Chapter Text
Remy’s head pulsed with the spinning of the fan blades. His jaw hurt. His teeth must have been chattering all night long. Judging by his sore muscles, he might have been shivering, too.
He turned his face and there she was. Rogue lay on her back on top of the covers beside him. His movement caught her attention.
“Mornin’, sugar,” she crooned.
Rogue was already dressed and wearing makeup. She looked so cute, he wanted take her in his arms. He could not believe how lucky he was that she had slept beside him like this for three nights now.
“You slept a little restless,” she said. “Looked like you were hurtin’ pretty bad a couple times. You were also talkin’ a bit.”
“Oh? What was Remy sayin’?” He smiled, studying her perfect face.
“Some real nice things ‘bout your girl.” Rogue smirked. “It don’t come off ‘xactly as sexy when you’re shiverin’ and bleedin’. Speakin’ of, let’s take a look at those sores.”
“Oui, chère.” Remy pulled his pants off and moved on top of the covers. He missed when they would do this for more fun reasons.
Rogue inhaled sharply through her teeth. “Aw, sugar. Sit still, I’ll be right back.”
Remy wondered what she saw, what she was fetching. The pain and discomfort had actually subsided a great deal since the night before.
When she returned from the bathroom, Rogue was carrying a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a bag of cotton balls, and the small plastic trash can.
“Looks like a couple of these spots broke open, darlin’. Does it hurt?”
Remy shook his head. “Non, mon coeur. Actually it feel a li’l better. The pressure gone.”
“Sure looks a mess, but I’m glad it hurts a little less, sweetie.” She glanced at his underwear on the floor. It was stained with multiple spots of blood and pus, each about the size of a nickel. “We’ll get these wounds all cleaned up and do your medicine.”
Remy was surprised that the alcohol did not sting his open sores. Maybe he was just desensitized to the pain at this point. He wondered how Rogue’s stomach did not turn to see his groin and backside all eaten up with disease— how she stayed so sweet and so loving. As she applied the gel medication to his lesions, he felt almost dizzy with gratitude for Anna Marie.
“You so good to me, chère,” he said, as she handed him a new pair of shorts.
“Nothin’ I’d rather do, sugar.” She kissed her gloved fingers and touched them to his lips. He swore he could taste berries and nectar.
For the first time in days, he felt really hungry. He ate dinner last night with the team because he was lonely, and before that, he had only picked at the light meals Rogue brought to him in bed. It was hard to eat when he was in such pain. Now that he was on his feet and getting dressed, he felt the demands of his empty stomach.
He pulled on his crop top and sweatpants and caught a whiff of the most comforting smell. He knew Rogue had washed his clothes for him. He did not realize till now that she had used her laundry detergent, the kind that smelled faintly of orange blossoms. It felt incredible to be clothed in something that shared her scent. Now he understood why she stole his hoodies so often. It was the next best thing to being able to touch skin to skin.
They headed to the kitchen, hand in gloved hand. He still felt the rub and the throbbing pain when he took each step, but it was more than worth it to have whatever wonderful thing was being cooked up for breakfast.
Everyone was in the kitchen, except Cyclops, who was nowhere to be seen. Beast and Jubilee were preparing French toast together. She dipped the bread in the egg mixture while he fried them up in the pan. Remy smiled to see it, and to smell it.
“Remy!” Jubilee cried out. “I would hug you but I have eggy hands.”
“T’anks for sparin’ me dat experience, petite.” He laughed.
Then he spotted a bowl of sliced strawberries next to the covered dishes of scrambled eggs and bacon. He grabbed a handful of fruit, just to have something in his belly.
“How ya feelin’, Gumbo?” asked Logan, setting his coffee cup on the countertop.
“Less like a drowned swamp rat. Maybe more like a reg’lar swamp rat,” Gambit said, leaning back against the counter.
“As long as you’re feeling better than last night,” Jubilee said.
“Aw, dat was just Gambit dead tired. Didn’t mean to give petite nothin’ to worry ‘bout.”
“You do look a great deal better, mein Freund,” said Nightcrawler. “Would you like any Kaffee?”
“Danke schön, mon ami.”
Kurt brought him a mug and a tiny pitcher of heated milk. Usually, this team only bothered steaming milk if it was Remy’s birthday and he needed café au lait. Kurt filled his cup halfway with coffee, leaving the perfect amount of room for the milk.
Remy took a sip of his coffee and felt more at home than he had ever felt in his life.
“Breakfast will be ready in moments, if you all would be so good as to head to the table,” Beast announced.
“Do you want to sit somewhere other than these chairs, Gambit?” Jean asked. “We can easily come up with something more comfortable.”
“Non, thank you, chère. It not as bad as all dat, zis morning.”
He took a seat, just to prove it. Rogue sat beside him and squeezed his thigh under the table.
“It’s such a relief to see you feeling at least a little better,” Jean said, then took a sip of her black coffee. “The mansion seems quiet even with one X-Man missing.”
“Merci. Speakin’ of, where dat husband of yours?”
“Scott will be up soon. He had a bad migraine last night, and slept in a little bit.”
“I ain’t know he have a rough time, too.”
“I think it’s the stress,” Jean admitted. “You know how he worries about everyone.”
Remy felt a twinge of satisfaction that Cyclops was fretting over him. It felt like a bright side to his suffering. He made the stuck-up, pompous leader of the X-Men show that he cared.
“Hank, cher, you got any news for me?” Remy asked, after another drink of coffee.
A piece of toast sizzled as Beast pressed his spatula against it.
“I do, but perhaps you would prefer to discuss it with me in private.”
Remy shook his head. “Gambit wait till Cyke get here. If it good news, I wanna hear it wit’ my family. If it bad news, I really wanna hear it wit’ my family.”
Just then, he felt two squeezes— Rogue’s gloved fingers laced in between his, and Logan’s broad hand on his shoulder. For a second, he thought he could be happy like this forever. Even if he never got better, it might be alright with these people beside him.
Storm smiled and looked at him with the kindest eyes. “I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to have you joining us again, brother. Even something as small as breakfast feels cold and unfamiliar when missing a friend.”
“Really,” Jean added. “We’re so glad you have a little more energy today. Is the pain still bad?”
“Some of ze wounds bust open while I was asleep. Miss Rogue got me all cleaned up, but Gambit still bleedin’. It hurt a li’l less wit’ dem open, but it look a hell of a lot uglier.”
Jean winced in sympathy. “God, Remy, I can’t imagine. Please, let us know if you need anything at all today. I know you don’t like to ask for help, but you can’t overexert yourself.”
Rogue smiled a bit and leaned her head carefully against his shoulder. “You ain’t gonna lift a finger today, sugar.”
Then, they all turned as they heard Scott’s heavy footsteps.
“It’s good to see you, Gambit.”
Scott did not look quite like himself. Remy didn’t think he had ever seen Cyclops leave his room before getting dressed all preppy in some polo or sweater. This morning, he was in flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt, his hair still a mess. It made him seem a bit more like a regular guy.
“That café au lait looks good. I think I’ll spare myself the acid and have what you’re having.”
He headed over to the kitchen and poured himself a coffee with steamed milk. To Remy’s knowledge, Cyclops had never taken his coffee any way but black.
“And how are you feeling this morning, mein Freund?” asked Nightcrawler.
“Hungry,” Scott replied. “Tired. Didn’t get to sleep until pretty late.”
“Well, you’ll be eating good in just a minute,” Jubilee chirped. “French toast is almost done, and we’ve got plenty for everyone.”
“Gambit hear you have a bad time last night,” Remy said to Scott.
“It’s nothing,” Scott replied. “Especially compared with what you’ve been fighting. I heard what you just said about your wounds.”
“Hey, nothin’ like café au lait to take de pain away, oui?” He clinked his mug against Scott’s and they both drank.
Jean assisted Hank and Jubilee telekinetically, bringing the eggs and bacon and fruit and coffee and the mountain of French toast to the center of the table.
“Truly an X-Men sized breakfast,” Beast said with a smile, admiring the spread.
“It looks super delicious,” Jubilee said, “and I’m not just saying that ‘cause I made it.”
Nightcrawler raised his voice to bless their shared meal. Even though Remy was more of the sinning than the praying type, he liked when Kurt prayed out loud. It reminded him of the rare safe moments of his youth, of full tables and warm beds.
“So, I think it’s fair to say we’ve all been through a lot these past few days,” Cyclops said, “Gambit most of all. But Hank has pulled multiple all-nighters now, and Rogue’s been on nursing duty. I know the rest of you have had your stresses and your ways to help since we learned of this Trask weapon.”
“What is this, a business meeting?” Wolverine said.
“Logan, be patient. What I’m getting at is, we’re all exhausted and could use a break.”
He put an entire strip of bacon into his mouth and continued.
“I’m canceling all training for today. Gambit isn’t well enough. I’m still shaky on my feet from being sick last night. And Beast and Rogue haven’t had enough sleep to use the Danger Room without it being an actual hazard. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I want to enjoy a slow and boring weekend.”
He grabbed the bottle of maple syrup and thoroughly soaked his four slices of French toast.
“Thanks, Cyclops,” Jubilee said in surprise.
“A rest day could do us some good,” Scott said. “I’m still new at being the main leader here. I know I’m not perfect. I’ve made some mistakes. But I want you all to know how important you are to me. If one of us hurts, we all hurt. It doesn’t take any high-level telepathy for that to be true.”
Jean held his hand on top of the table. Rogue mirrored them, taking Gambit’s hand as well.
A shiver went up his spine, and it wasn’t from Rogue’s gloved touch. Remy wasn’t used to feeling anxiety. He did not expect it to strike right then. Right now, it was a more uncomfortable sensation than the chafing of his shorts against the open edges of his wounds.
“Right den,” he said, “now’s a’ good a time as any. Hank, cher, tell me ‘bout your research.”
Remy grabbed the tongs and piled some scrambled eggs on his plate. If he started eating, he would have to force himself to listen to what Beast had to say and not interrupt.
“Ah,” Hank replied. Remy could not discern the emotion on his face. “Well, mon ami, I am not certain whether you will consider this to be good news or the reverse. All the same, the final step in the scientific process is to disseminate one’s findings. So, here they are.”
Everyone fixed their eyes on Beast, except for Remy, who began to tear into his scrambled eggs.
“It seems you really do have hidradenitis suppurativa, in the same way as any human with the disease might. And, as such, there is currently no cure. However—”
His voice brightened as he said this word.
“My research indicates a promising treatment option for you. There have been some studies testing the suppression of tumor necrosis factor, or TNF, in the treatment of autoimmune diseases, including yours. And the results are promising. As such, based on the latest medical research, with help from some of my colleagues on Muir Island, I propose that we begin treatment with a TNF inhibitor as soon as possible.”
Remy swallowed another bite before replying. “‘S they any chance dat treatment gon’ affect my abilities?”
“Your mutant abilities? Not in the slightest. However, it will affect the abilities of your immune system. This treatment does carry some risks, mon frère. Namely, your ability to fight off infections. You may find yourself more susceptible to colds, bronchitis, influenza, and perhaps even the occasional more severe infection.”
Rogue clutched Remy’s hand again. He felt his heart beating fast.
“And what’s the risk, if I don’t do ze treatment?”
Beast put on a grave expression, “You will not get better, Remy. Your disease would worsen. We could attempt surgery to excise the affected areas over time, but they will always come back, and your range of motion will become more limited with each infection and each surgery.”
He caught direct eye contact with Gambit and held it.
“It pains me to imagine this future, my friend. I fear it would be nothing but the pain and suffering you experienced in the lab three days ago, over and over again. And if I may be so self-centered as to insert my own emotions, I do not think I could bear it.”
“Neither could I, sugar.” Rogue held the side of his face in her hand. “You sick and in pain like you’ve been…”
“Hell, it breaks even my heart to see it, Cajun,” Wolverine said.
Scott spoke up again. “None of us have any right to tell you what to do, Remy. We know you’re facing some difficult decisions—”
“Non, ain’t nothin’ difficult about it, cher. How the treatment work, Doc?”
He wanted to put his friends at ease, but he really meant it. Even catching pneumonia every now and then would be preferable to continuing to go on in his current condition.
“I would need to administer it to you via infusion in the lab, once every two weeks. The whole process takes less than an hour. You likely will experience no side affects, aside from the aforementioned susceptibility to infection.”
Hank sipped on his coffee before continuing. “Now, as I have stated before, this is not a cure. You might still experience the occasional flare-up, much like our dear Cyclops still battles the occasional migraine.”
Remy turned his head toward Scott, whose shoulders were being rubbed by Jean.
“And much like his migraines, your dermatological flare-ups might be triggered or worsened by stress. Unfortunately, I don’t feel there is much chance in avoiding that, among the X-Men,” Beast chuckled.
“You will be knocked down sometimes. Other times, you will feel wonderful for weeks or even months on end. I have belief that one day, we will discover a cure for your disease. For now, this treatment and outcome are the best for which we can hope.”
Remy felt everyone’s eyes fall on him. They were waiting for him to respond. He focused on Rogue’s hand as she rubbed his back, and noticed tears stinging at his eyes.
He took a deep breath and spoke. “‘S a lot to take in, non? Merci, Beast. Hank. You lost a whole lotta sleep learnin’ all dis. And t’ank you to all de X-Men. Y’all been real good to Gambit t’rough everyt’ing.”
He finished up his now room temperature coffee.
“Gambit do the treatment, oui. Long as y’all don’t got no problem wit’ me takin’ sick sometimes.”
“Of course not, Remy,” Jean said. Her voice was thick with emotion.
“These past few days have been no fluke, lieber Freund,” Nightcrawler said. “We will always tend to you in your need.”
“Yeah,” said Jubilee, “what else are friends for?”
“What else are family for?” added Storm.
Remy blinked hard as his tears dropped onto the table.
“Merde, y’all done make a old thief cry.”
“We love ya, Rems,” said Logan, with Jubilee wrapped around him.
“And X-Men are family,” Scott said. “We’re glad you’re part of ours, Remy.”
Gambit could not help but let a small laugh slip out as he noticed a tear fall from behind Scott’s glasses. It felt good to be this loved.
“Hoo, all dis talk and all dis cryin’ make Gambit hungry. Let’s not us let dis French toast get cold, yes? We got us a lazy day to get started on.”
He took his fork and knife and began to cut up his syrup-drenched toast. Rogue poured him some more coffee, and Hank reminded everyone to eat plenty of eggs and bacon. Plates were passed, and chatter and laughter began. Remy felt the pain of his wounds lessen. The hurt was still there, but it felt lighter.
He took in the joy and care in the faces around him. Yes, he had been a card player all his life, but never before now had he ever been dealt a hand so lucky as at this table.