Warning: This story is a product of me not being able to sleep at 3:30 in the morning. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't think very coherently when I'm tired, and right now I'm too tired to climb the two flights of stairs to my bedroom, to go to sleep... Oh, no, wait... I'm confusing tired with lazy again... At any rate I'm not to be held accountable for anything I write here.
Real warning: So I curse. Sue me. Honestly, I write how I think, so this is more then likely to end up with curse words in it. You don' like it? Fuck ya!
General Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel. I think... unless I decide to get creative, WHICH I highly doubt!
Notes: This takes place just after 350, (As if you're still reading this. It's pointless to write these things. After all that jabbering I just did you could have been done the friggin' story. Very few people actually read this far. Now I'm just rambling on psychotically, if I were having a conversation, someone would have told me to shut up and get along with the story long ago. Just ask Sarah. She tells me to 'Shut up and get on with the story' a lot!) This also has nothing to do with anything after that in the Marvel version. I'm also ignoring the continuity problems that exist in 350.
I have never read a story with the Marauders in it, so bare with me! I'm bringing M. Tooth back for Essex. I love getting him to mess with people's heads.
On with the piece of sh-- I mean story...
He walked through the barren waist land, not sure what to do next. Her voice rung in his ears, her words tainted his thoughts, the betrayed look on her face burned his eyes. Of all the X- Men, she was the one closest to his heart. Everything would have been fine, if only she would have accepted, not forgiven, he would never have asked for that, but if only she could have understood. Everything, all the pain, torment and regret he felt every day, and even worse, every night, of his life; his thoughts, his memories-- his dreams-- every moment since it happened; none of it was as damaging as looking into her eyes when she had left him.
He had looked into her eyes so many times before, and seen into her soul. The vision he had seen then was one of tortured love. She loved him with all her heart. She, he believed, would have married him if it weren't for her powers. That was the only barrier in the way of their love. Last night they had gotten past that barrier, but then she had looked back at him, into his eyes, and for the first time, into his soul. She saw not what was there, not his feelings for her, and for the rest of the X-Men, but the thing that had tortured him for most of his life. His past with one of the most evil men who had ever lived, rivalled only by Apocalypse and Onslaught.
Onslaught. Now there was a name. Professor Xavier. His... the X- Men's leader, their founder, then man who became as much of a father to him as Jean Luc had ever been.
Jean Luc, his father. He had exiled him for something he had done. Thrown him out because he had taken a life. Ironic how much alike his old family and his new family were. Deep inside, he wished Bishop had been right about him after all. It would have made things a lot easier, for him and the others. If only...
Merde c'est froid.' (shit it's cold) He thought to himself. The Antarctic tends to be that way. He was wondering around dressed in but a pair of gloves, pants and boots. He had been wondering blindly in the cold since Rogue had left him. What was that? Two, three hours ago? No. He'd be dead by then. It felt like that though. He dropped to his knees. "I'd sell my soul for a fur coat right now."
Out of no where, a heavy parka fell in front of him. "Is that so?" He looked up to see a pale man with red eyes, black lips, metallic armour and a shredded cape, looking down on him with a predatory look on his face.
Any other man would have cringed back at the sight of this man; at the pure fear his image inspired, but then again, Gambit wasn't any man. The fear was there, but he would die before he let Essex know that.
He picked up the coat and put it on as Sinister bent down to help him up. "I said fur," he toyed, leaning fully on Sinister. Oddly enough, Essex was the first man that Remy had ever trusted, that was before what happened with the Morlocks. Now that he had seen the true power that that man possessed, he feared him more than he had ever feared anything in his life. That was the point of the joke. Whenever he was truly afraid or uncomfortable he would reflexively tell a joke or make a sarcastic comment, in attempt to get more comfortable with the situation.
Sinister was familiar with his tactics, and ignored him without so much as a shrug. "The X- Men have decided. They don't want you. Rogue, doesn't want you. Your family doesn't want you. You have no one else to turn to. It is time for you to return to your master."
Gambit was too cold to respond. The reality of what Sinister had just said didn't even sink in. All that he knew was that the man who had given him a home when no one else wanted him, had come back for him. It wasn't the same man that other people knew him to be. When his mother walked out on him, Essex was there. When his adopted family exiled him, Essex was there. And now? Now that his surrogate family had abandoned him to die in a frozen waist land, who was there for him? Essex of course.
A sudden pang of regret flooded over him as a portal appeared in front of the two of them. How could he ever betray this man? He was the only man on earth who always came back for him, who always protected him no matter what he did. He leaned his head on Sinister's shoulder and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry... Father."
To Be Continued...
Well, it's just about 4, and that's when I turn into.. I don't know... Something that sleeps a lot... What's something that sleeps a lot? Goodnight! ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ Actually I'm not asleep yet. I still have to go ALL the way upstairs first!! Sigh...
Luv: Crimson.