Fallen Apart

[kurt]

Prologue

Remy, a man who typically pushed aside his emotions, was losing his grip. The events leading up to this moment were none too typical and probably would have broken any other man, but Remy was strong. He had the self confidence that was needed in the rough world, but he was losing his hope. His confidence was masked as a result of growing anxiety and those emotions. He was frustrated, beaten and turned into the little guy instead of the hot shot he was used to being. First it was the prison, taming him. He tasted success by breaking the captured mutants out, but even as a free man he was bounded and shackled. He quit the X-Men in hopes that he could regain his sense of freedom and abandon his sense of responsibility. He was paid to be a thief again. It wasn't enough.

Now, a mere few months after the break out, Remy was uncertain of his choices. He was beginning to regret leaving his friends. He hadn't even realized that he had made such close acquaintances with many of them. Emotions would ruin him, destroy him, remove his identity. Plus, street word of sentinels were beginning to make him uneasy. Giant robots that possessed the means to take any mutant on. Remy had already gone to Xavier to warn him about those monsters and had been certain to remain insistent that he would not come back. Another decision Remy was beginning to regret. He was sure that Xavier would welcome Gambit back if he did decide to come back, but Remy had become insecure in thinking that his teammates would not. Again. It had taken a substantial amount of time to gain their trust in the first place.

The situation was getting out of hand. Remy was losing control, both over himself and the situation around him. He was no longer the child he was before the prison, but an actual man. On or off the team, he held responsibility. Choices he made now would effect the fate of the mutant community. Before it would have been a game, a gambit. Now he wasn't in the mood. Despite how much he didn't want to, he was needed, whether his help was wanted or not. No matter how much he fought it, life caught up to him. He knew of consequences before, but not to this scale. If he didn't act now, a whole race would be wiped out. Remy's race--mutants. Though the government might not have realized it, but their attack on mutants would have a disastrous consequence, beginning the form of the X-Men. So Remy would fight; he knew he couldn't ignore this. All he had to do was ask himself, who would he fight for? Mutants wasn't answer enough.

[kurt]

Chapter One

The mansion that housed the X-Men was supposed to have the best security from all around. Remy would know, as he was the creator of most of it. Granted, he had managed to bypass it at one point, but he reasoned that the situation was dire and that he had created it, thereby allowing him to know all of the faults. Plus, he was a mutant as well as the best professional thief around, so he figured that he didn't have anything to worry about. In fact, everyone that housed themselves in the mansion thought that they were safe. Combined with Gambit's security system, they could feel safe in knowing that every single one of the residents was a mutant as well, each with their own special powers. No one would ever have to worry about anyone unwanted gaining access.

Every single one of the students and teachers in that building was wrong. For all they knew, they were dead wrong.

Remy wasn't around when it happened, since he was off on one of his self-given missions. He had an old friend call in, told the Cajun to meet him at some place a couple hundred miles away, and he'd explain the situation there. Since Remy knew the nature of this man, he knew exactly why he didn't describe what was expected of him over the phone, where their conversation could easily be tapped in to by the government. Even though Remy was a part of the X-Men, and because of that he was told he was supposed to be on the right side of the law, he was still a thief at heart. While a lot of the senior X-Men frowned upon him for returning to that life every now and again, he did it anyway, though he typically kept quiet about what he had to do. Almost everyone had their suspicions that he was off to do no good, but none of them turned around to stop him, and they all stayed just as silent as he.

It was nighttime in Pennsylvania, but that didn't mean that all was well and good. In fact, Remy had just finished the deed that he was sent out to do by his friend, and he was trotting home like a good old boy. A small package was tucked away in his coat so that no one else could see it, and the coat wasn't so out of place thanks to the chilly air of the summer night. Although his friend was slightly irritated at Remy's leisurely pace, he continued to simply walk to his destination as if to not raise any suspicions. Thankfully for him not a lot of people were out and about at such an hour. Every now and again a pair of headlights coasted down the road, temporarily blinding the tall thief, but it was only light traffic in the suburbs; nothing to be worried about.

His soft-soled shoes didn't make a whisper against the pavement as he strolled along. Every now and again he paused at a house as if to study it, but he eventually was on his way again. He walked for countless blocks and many minutes, probably for a couple of miles, before he turned down another, shabbier street. Although the dead trees and slightly broken down houses would have scared some people witless, none of it bothered Remy in the least bit. He continued his slow and steady pace until he took another turn into a weed smothered walkway. Picking his way around the grass so as to not leave a trace, he climbed the few steps to the porch before he rapped his knuckles lightly against the thick wood. "'Ello, monsieur, I believe you can let me in now." He waited patiently for a couple of seconds, turning around to stare off to the neighboring houses, but no one came to answer the door. Clucking his tongue, he shuffled around again to knock harder against the door. "'Ey mon ami! T'ought dis was urgent matter or somet'in'! You ain't gonna jus' leave me on dis here porch, are ya? I feel like a—"

Remy stopped his raised voice at the same moment that he heard clinking on the other side of the door. A scowl set on his lips, he tapped his foot against the wood floor of the porch as he waited to be let in. With a whispered whoosh, the door swung open on its hinges, revealing a short man with scraggly hair, barely outlined by the running television behind him.

"What took you so long, hein? Told ya I would be back 'bout dis time, di'n't I?"

"No, ya said you'd be back two hours ago," the short man snapped, as if he had been angry with Remy the whole time. "Thought you got yerself caught or somethin', even though you keep sayin' that you're the best thief from all around." He stepped aside to let the taller man through. With a nod of his head, Remy cast another discreet glance over his shoulder before following his friend's unspoken invitation. "What were ya doin', man?"

Remy shrugged, looking around the nearly bare living room for a place to sit. He figured that the plush chair set right across from the TV would be where his friend would get comfortable, so he took the only other piece of furniture in the room: a fluffy foot stool. "I was gettin' what you asked for, Freddie. Can' rush a good heist, homme."

"My ass!" Freddie replied, shuffling forward to fall straight into the chair. Remy imagined the chair being pulled backwards just as Freddie let himself fall, leaving him to fall hard on his hind end with a string of curses to follow. He smirked at the thought, but quickly hid it away.

"What 'bout your cul? You want somet'in' done right, it take time. Be happy you came t' me, d'accord?" He found himself leaning back a little on the stool, but caught himself before he lost his balance and toppled backwards. Even though he had envisioned Freddie falling backwards to break his tailbone, Remy had no plans to do the exact same thing himself.

A sentence grumbled out of Freddie's mouth, and Remy let the sour man say his part, no matter how intelligible it had been, as he knew that soon after they'd get down to business. "So, ya act'ly get it?"

"Bien sûr!" Remy exclaimed gleefully, but he didn't reach inside his coat to grab the little package. "You still doubtin' me, vieux copain?" He mimicked a hurt expression, though he doubted that Freddie would take it seriously.

"Stop it with the French! Hones'ly, man, you're going to rot my brain more'n I've ever done it."

"I'll see what I can do 'bout it," Remy smugly replied.

"So I take it you did get it?"

"Right on dat."

"Well?"

"Well what?" Remy smirked at Freddie, well aware that he was being a thorn in his side, but that wouldn't stop him from having his fun.

"Do I get to see it?" Freddie roared, his impatience getting the better of him.

"Maybe if ya say please."

"Damn you, Remy! I'm not payin' you to crack jokes at me. Give me what I asked for!" Although the only light present in the room was from the colorful TV screen, Remy could tell that Freddie's face was brightening to a red. He knew he could take Freddie on if he decided to strike, but nudging his friend too far would ruin what business he had.

"No need t' shout, homme," Remy commented lightly, reaching in to his inside pocket. He fished around for a moment, sticking his tongue out in a theatrical way, before his face brightened as he pulled out the package he had been carrying around for Freddie. "Look'ee here! I found it!" He looked up to see Freddie's deepening scowl, and then handed the box over. Once it was out of his hands he almost leaned backwards again, remembering that the stool didn't have a back again just in time.

Almost greedy-like, Freddie ripped open the box and stared at the lifted good inside. Remy allowed him some alone time with his newly acquired possession, but eventually he had to cut in to the silence. "Y'know, I hate t' jus' up'n leave ya, but I got t'ings t' do back home. T'ink I'll be on my way now."

Freddie looked up from the box, replacing the top so that he could stuff it in his pants pocket. He had to shift in his chair to reach the opening of the jeans, emitting a grunt with the physical exertion, but once it was over he plopped back into the plush chair. Remy had risen to his feet in the meantime, and was dusting off the part of his coat he had been sitting on, but before he could make it to the door, Freddie had placed his hand in the crook of Remy's arm.

"S'up, Freddie?" Remy asked, looking first down at the hand, and then up at his friend's face. "Enjoy my comp'ny too much 'r somet'in'?"

"Ya still livin' with them super team people?"

Remy bunched his eyebrows together out of confusion, trying to figure out why this would concern Freddie now. He hadn't even talked about the X-Men around him, but he guessed that thanks to the media his alliance wasn't that hard to figure out. "Oui … but why da sudden interest?"

"'Cause you don't wanna go back there, Remy."

"What?" Remy exclaimed, taking a step back and ripping his arm from Freddie's grip. "Why you say dat?"

"Listen to me, Remy, you don't want to go back to that place." He made sure to pronounce each and every word with strong emphasis and without any of his northern accent.

"You crazy, mon ami." He thought through all of the possibilities as to why his distant friend would be saying such a thing. "I ain't got not'in' t' worry 'bout der. Been runnin' wit' dem folk f'r long 'nough now t' know dey don' mean me no harm."

"That's not my point," Freddie said, shaking his head. "It's not your so-called friends you have to worry about."

"'So-called' ya say? Hey, dat show how much you know." The words came out a little sharper than Remy had intended, but only because that simple phrasing had struck a nerve. Remy had had enough hardships concerning friends in his time, and he didn't need some man that thought himself wiser beyond his years to spread even more doubt on Remy's decisions; he did that enough for himself.

"Jus' … don't go back."

"I'll do what I damn well please." Remy skirted Freddie's reach to get to the door. He set his hand on the door knob, but before he turned it, he cast a glance over his shoulder to look at Freddie. "You can jus' go back t' mindin' yer own business, homme, an' t' leavin' me alone. Ya ain't called on a favor from me in a long time, an' le's leave it at dat 'gain, got it?"

"You're making a mistake, Remy," Freddie insisted, but his words were left unheard as Remy whisked out of the house. The door shut silently behind him, leaving Freddie alone with his plush chair and muted television.

"He t'ink I gonna listen when he ain't gonna give no reasons?" Remy asked out loud as he strode purposefully down the same sidewalk he had walked to get to the house. "Man used t' sprout nonsense while back, what make 'im t'ink dat he sane now?" He shook his head angrily as he turned the corner to the nicer street, heading in the opposite direction he had arrived from upon gathering Freddie's selected gem. "Dunno how I even tied myself up wit' 'im in da first place! Ain't like he helped me out much back den."

Remy continued on in silence as he made his way to an abandoned house where the neighborhood thinned out. A chipped for sale sign was stuck in the overgrown lawn, and a black box was hanging from the main entrance's door handle. Walking confidently up the driveway, he looked over at the closest neighbor before lifting up the door to the garage. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darker area inside before he made his way over to the small vehicle parked in the middle. Smiling a little, he led the motorcycle out on to the driveway, and then quietly dropped the door back to the way he found it. Once everything was perfect, he started up his bike and was on his way.

Although it was late at night, and in most cases he would go to sleep, Remy drove as far away from the neighborhood he had stolen from as he possibly could. For a while he had the fight playing over and over in his mind to keep him awake, but eventually his brain began to protest and he lost track of the miles he travelled. Since he had money at hand, he pulled his route from the highway he was riding along to a motel, where he crashed for the night.

It wasn't a very early time to which Remy woke up. A little groan escaped his lips as he lifted his head from the pillow and propped himself on to his elbows. Blinking the sleep from his uniquely colored eyes, he turned his head to catch a glimpse of the time. Still groggy, he tried to recall the time that he had to be out of the motel, a scowl making it to his lips when he realized he didn't have much time to be out and about. Even so, after turning around to sit up on the bed and under the covers, he fished for the remote beside the alarm clock and flicked on the television. He flipped through the channels almost without seeing them until he paused on the news channel. Remy's hope was that Freddie had been watching the news channel last night as well, and had saw a pack of alien monsters trying to take over New York City, which would explain why he wouldn't want Remy going back there, despite the fact that Remy had already been beamed up into space to fight the creatures there more than his fair share of times. If such a thing had actually happened, it would most likely be across all news stations for days, but Remy didn't see a thing. All was quiet on the … Eastern front.

The television switched off with the sound of a static click. The remote was replaced to its regular place by the alarm clock, and Remy was up on his feet. Making his way around the bed, he grabbed his keys and his coat, and he was on his way to check out.

Remy didn't have a pair of glasses to cover up his strange eyes when he had checked in because of the time, but the person behind the desk was so tired that it hadn't mattered then. In fact, Remy was surprised that he was let in to a motel at such an ungodly hour. Now, however, the aging woman behind the desk had wide eyes and an alert face. Remy slowed his pace in the doorway for a moment before waiting in the one-person line to return his key to his room.

The woman's eyes caught on Remy's own, and he saw the faint o of her mouth. "I di'n't do not'in' bad, if you were wonderin', chere," Remy assured her with a charming smile. He rested his elbows on the desk and leaned over a little. "Jus' 'cause I got funny eyes don' make me a bad guy."

"Uh, of course," she stuttered, tearing her gaze away from his face. "Um, you're all checked out, sir."

Free to go, Remy added nonverbally, flashing another smile before turning around. He passed a young couple on his way out, but these two were too wrapped up in themselves to even notice Remy was there, so the rest of his very brief stay at the motel was smooth riding. Finding his motorcycle exactly where he parked it, he kicked it to life and found his way back to the expressway.

The whole ride back to New York was uneventful. He had to stop at a gas station to fill up his bike so that he wouldn't end up walking the way back, but the few minutes spent there were quiet and peaceful. He tried to keep an ear out for some news, Freddie's advice still on his mind, but no one said anything about the Big Apple. Remy was beginning to think that Freddie was going slightly insane, which would help him disregard his warnings, but even so he was a little more anxious as he ate up the miles between him and his home with the X-Men.

By late afternoon, Remy had skirted the actual city so that he was standing at the gates of the mansion. Looking up to the building, he rested his hand on the iron bar of the gate door, not immediately entering. None of the children were playing outside, as they typically would be doing on a sunny, summer day, which instantly raised Remy's suspicions again, Freddie's words quickly jumping to the front of his mind again. Reaching in to his pocket to make sure that a pack of cards were handy, as well as his bo staff if he needed them, he opened up the moving fence and putted his motorcycle in to the grounds. Parking it in its designated spot, he climbed the steps to the grand entrance hall and called out. "Hello! Anyone here?" He added a mental call toward Charles Xavier, but no one answered back.

Swallowing and licking his lips nervously, he took the stairs to the second floor three at a time, quickly running down the hall to make it to Rogue's room. First he knocked, but when he didn't receive an immediate answer, he flung it open. Scanning the room quickly, he discovered it was empty, her sheets thrown in a heap on the floor. "Not t'inkin' dat dis good …" Remy breathed, turning around to run to Scott's room. If the things Remy expected that happened didn't actually happen, Scott would be the anchor here. Except when Remy shoved Scott's door open without even knocking, it was in the same state of upheaval as Rogue's. "Oh, now I know somet'in's wrong."

"Right you are, Cajun," a voice snickered from behind him. Instantly grabbing for some cards from inside his coat, Remy spun around to meet the voice head-on.

"Aren't li'l soldiers like you not s'posed t' talk?" Remy inquired, his brave face already in place. "'Cause you jus' gave away your element o' surprise. I tell ya now dat it wa'n't a very good idea."

"Shut up and come with us!" the soldier shouted back, though his voice was calm enough that it didn't sound like he was losing control.

Remy blinked with mock surprise. "Come wit' you? But I only jus' met you. Tell ya what, I take a rain check on dat, 'kay?" And with that being said, he gave his cards a quick charge, tossed them towards the soldier and gave him a good kick in the chest for good measure. Once he was down, he grinned and sprinted down the hallway, figuring that life was good. As soon as he made it to the main entrance hall again and he took one step on to the staircase, his grin instantly disappeared. When the soldier meant 'us,' he wasn't kidding. "Must'a took da wrong way!" Remy shouted down to the them, as they already had their guns lifted to mark him as a target. "Don' worry, I be outta y'r hair in no time!"

Almost diving to the floor, Remy scrambled forward so that he was out of the guns' ranges, and then continued down a completely new hallway. Although he had been sprinting nearly the whole time, he wasn't out of breath as he launched himself through and window and into open space. Hitting the ground with a controlled roll, he cast a quick look up at the window he had just exited through, as well as all the other windows on the backside of the building, before taking off to grab his bike again so that he could get out of there.

A couple of soldiers were camped around his bike, but with the smiles on their faces, they were hardly intimidating. "Salut garcons," Remy called pleasantly, his staff already in hand. As they turned around to face him, their smiles already transformed into fear, they got to experience the feel of Remy's staff. They fell to the ground in a haphazard jumble of limbs, leaving Remy to make a dramatic exit on his bike. It quickly roared in to life as he pulled it around, speeding down the driveway. He heard a couple of shots over the sound of the motor, and dust kicked up from the pavement as the bullets missed him, but once he turned on to the road, he figured himself safe.

Paying no attention to speed limits, Remy zoomed down a few roads, trying and succeeding in keeping his route unplanned, until he felt like he lost the unmarked soldiers from the mansion. Looking around to make sure, he slowed his pace so that he wouldn't stick out to any local or state police, and headed on to another expressway to distance himself from the mansion.

Freddie had been right in telling Remy not to go back to the X-Men, but that didn't explain how he knew. Remy had a few choices that he could have taken, but the only one that he was going to take was going back to Freddie and demanding answers. With a goal in mind, Remy took the seven hour drive back to Freddie's rather weak safe house. Upon arrival, the sun had disappeared under the horizon, which meant bedtime for most people, but he knew that Freddie would still be awake.

Parking his bike in Freddie's driveway, he expected the motor to give himself away, but no one moved the curtains from around the windows or peeked through the door. Stomping up the steps and across the porch, Remy rapped his knuckles angrily against the wooden door, gave a slight pause before doing it again. "Freddie, open dis door now!" he roared and was awarded when his request was actually done.

"Remy?" was Freddie's only word.

Pushing Freddie into the house and onto his chair, Remy stood in front of him, blocking the television from his view. "How? How'd ya know 'bout dat ambush?"

"Ambush?" Freddie questioned, confusion obviously on his face. "That's not what I was talkin' 'bout, Remy."

"'S not?" Remy snorted. He moved to push Freddie back into the chair when he struggled to sit up straight. "Den why sprout all da crazy talk 'bout not goin' back, but givin' me no reasons, hein? Should'a known I wouldn't listen! What did ya know?"

Freddie cowered at Remy's furious face, as he'd never seen the Cajun so mad before in his life. If he knew anything at all, Remy didn't often show his true feelings, and he didn't get all bent out of shape over something so trivial. "I-I have connections," he stuttered, but when Remy didn't reply, only giving him a hard stare, he continued. "One of the guys … he … he talked to me last night when you were getting the gem. He said that a whole bunch'a soldiers were linin' up around a big mansion. I thought that … it was that place that you're livin' in."

"An' you know where I livin' 'cause o' dose connections?" Remy asked almost calmly.

"Yuh-yes." The change in tone, combined with his still furious face, was scarier than when his accented voice was angry as well. Much to Freddie's relief, Remy turned his back on him then, but he could still see those eyes of his burning in his mind's eye.

"You know what dose soldiers wanted?" Remy inquired, his voice still the essence of calm.

"N-no."

"Stop stutterin', you blatherin', good for not'in' weasel." Remy paced around the room a couple of times before stopping in front of Freddie again, grabbing on to the arms of the chair and leaning over Freddie's face. "My friends are gone, an' you di'n't say a word 'bout dat."

"I didn't know!" Freddie shrieked.

"But you t'ink dat I'm wort' savin' over dem?" He stood up again, his eyes still smoldering an angry red. "You got dat wrong, mon ami. Completely backwards. Not'in' you can do will keep me from livin' a good life while dey off sufferin' who knows what." Because most of them had done nothing wrong, while Remy had a life full of sins to back up his suffering, and he was well aware of it. Most of the time he didn't bring it up around others, keeping it to himself, but that was his nature. "'Less you got more info'mation dat I can use, I don' ever want t' hear from you again." He looked one more time at Freddie, whom shook his head violently. "Den au revoir."

Remy stepped toward the door, passing through it without a pause. A loud slam was heard a split second afterward, which allowed Freddie to release some of the tension that gathered in his limbs at Remy's angry display, but his breath still came more quickly and shallowly. Kicking his bike into action once again, Remy steered himself on the expressway again, a specific target in mind. Stopping once again at a shabby motel, although this time at a somewhat reasonable hour, he lay on top of the covers of the bed, his hands resting behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

If it hadn't been for Freddie, Remy would have been there with the X-Men and students to help prevent the attack that most obviously occurred on the grounds. He would have suffered their same fate, and while he might not have liked it, it would have felt more right than being free while everyone else was God knew where. Remy now had to concentrate on finding his mutant friends while staying on the outside so that he wasn't caught with them. Once they were found, he'd devise a way to get them out. He was an escape artist; he could do such a thing, even with a whole mass of scared children. He had to convince himself that everything would be alright.

The following morning Remy had his bike parked in a nondescript parking lot bordering the capital of the country. Another long stroll took him to the center of the city, and it was there that he started his work. Over the next week he took care to figure out who it was that was in charge of taking care of the so-called mutant problem, and after finding them, he tailed them. None of them appeared to be the reason behind the X-Men's disappearance, but he continued to dig, using his lifelong thieving skills to his advantage. Eventually his search was redirected to a completely different city, but that turned out to be slightly safer than the nation's capital.

A month passed of hard work, and while frustration was building up inside of Remy, he refused to acknowledge it. The case of the X-Men was an isolated one, as far as he could tell, and it was a small operation. Somehow the government had gotten smart in the way that they were hiding it, and no matter how often Remy was able to hack into their computers, he was discovering that it was harder and harder to find the people he cared for.

Eventually, Remy got a breakthrough. After heading off to another, even smaller city, he was able to discover where all of the X-Men had been taken to, right down to its exact location. Feeling lighter than he had been the past month, he made his way to the coordinates to take a look around. What he saw was a high security prison, without any other way to describe it. Ignoring all precautionary warnings his head was screaming at him, he approached the building as best as he could without actually getting inside. His hope was that he wouldn't raise alarm in the least bit, but that was soon thwarted when a small vehicle turned around the corner to meet up with him.

"You're too close to the—" The man at the wheel let his jaw hang slack as he got a good look at Gambit.

"Oh, so ya know who I am?" Remy inquired, throwing another happy face over top what he was feeling. "Den ya should know not t' bother me, ney?"

"Wrong, son," the man replied, getting out of the vehicle and pulling a gun from a holster on his hip. Remy stared at it for a moment before throwing a very unafraid look at the man. "We know that we shouldn't let you out of our grips this time."

"Dis time? Aw … you were at da mansion? Jus' had t' make complete fools outta—" Remy's taunting sentence was cut off at a strangled cry. Squeezing his eyes shut, he feel on to his knees as an electric shock coursed through his body. Surprisingly enough, he didn't actually fall to the ground and writhe like everyone always sees in the movies. Instead, to be finished off, the officer he had been chatting with stuck a needle into his neck, which brought quick darkness. Remy was unconscious before his head hit the dirt.