Chapter Text
“Bonjour, mes amis…”
Their friend’s sweet honeyed voice rasped as he leaned in the door frame. Logan had a suspicion that he was not leaning, so much as falling. Remy seemed to have his full weight against his shoulder. His eyes seemed a tad darker even than usual.
“Gambit!” Jubilee screamed, making a tiny pink-and-purple explosion with her fingers before running to hug him.
“‘S good to see you, petite,” Gambit said, trying not to wince. The color of his face slowly drained. Logan knew they needed to get him inside.
He was about to step forward and offer Remy his shoulder to lean on, when Nightcrawler appeared by Gambit’s side. He went to hug their friend, then snaked his tail around his waist for support. They began to walk forward. Remy made no effort to hide quite a dramatic limp.
Jubilee clasped her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God, are you okay?”
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with Remy, petite. Ol’ Gambit jus’ need a nap and a strong coffee…”
As he said the word, he blanched completely. His eyes rolled back, revealing their pure black, and his knees buckled. Logan dashed over to catch him. He doubted Nightcrawler could have held Remy up on his own.
His teammate felt cold in his arms. Remy’s eyelids fluttered as he regained consciousness. He only remained upright because of Logan and Nightcrawler.
“Jubes, how about ya run down and give Beast a heads up about Cajun here? I think our Gambit could use a look-over from the doctor.”
Jubilee took off, letting off a small array of sparklers as she went. Logan let out a tense laugh. The kid always set off some fireworks when she was nervous.
“‘D you jes’ say Our Gambit, mon ami?” Remy’s mouth turned up, but he was too weak to really smile.
“Ya turn up all pitiful on our doorstep like a stray cat, how d’you expect us to feel?”
“Merci, Logan. Gambit be lyin’ if he say he fit as a fiddle. Maybe got a broken string or two.”
“Not to worry, mein Freund.” Kurt’s voice was soft and soothing. “I’m certain it is nothing Beast cannot mend.”
For once, Remy did not get the last word in. The silence was so uneasy, Logan’s stomach turned. Remy just hung his head as his comrades helped him walk toward the elevator and down to the lab.
Logan thought for a moment how this would be much quicker if he just carried Gambit. Or if Kurt teleported him, for that matter. But Remy was still conscious, and was clearly trying to preserve his dignity as much as possible. He probably felt terrible that Jubilee had seen him in this state.
Downstairs in the lab, Scott and Jean waited alongside Hank and Jubilee. Logan wished for Remy’s sake that Rogue were here. There was nothing like the woman you love for comfort. Likewise, there was nothing like Scott Summers to rip that comfort away.
Logan and Nightcrawler eased Remy onto the examination bed.
“Gambit didn’t know he gettin’ a audience,” he murmured, his eyes barely open.
Of course, Scott spoke up. “We’re just relieved you’re back in one piece. Jean and I aren’t going to stay, we only…”
Jean picked up for him. Logan hated how they operated in sync. “We wanted to tell you how glad we are that you’re home. We know you’re not feeling well, so we’re going to step out, but let us know if you need anything at all.”
“Merci, chère. You know where Rogue at?”
“She’s still at the U.N. with Storm, sweetheart.” Jean carefully removed his facial armor. Remy sighed and closed his eyes, relaxing at her touch.
Logan had to hold back a pang of jealousy. Whatever was going on with Gambit was nothing to be jealous of.
“Tell her to stop by, pay Gambit a call, whenever she get de chance.” His voice was weak. He sounded half-asleep.
“I don’t think we’ll need to tell her, Remy,” Jean replied. She stroked his long hair away from his face, then returned to hold Scott’s hand.
“Now, you just take it easy and listen to whatever Beast says, alright?” Scott said, giving Jean’s hand a squeeze. Seeing Remy like this was unsettling for everyone.
“Jubilee, why don’t you go with them?” Logan added. He knew the kid was anxious, and normally, he would have prioritized her, but right now, it was Remy’s comfort that took precedence.
“Feel better soon, Gambit,” she said, forcing a smile. She created a small cascade of purple and red sparkles, trying to cheer him just a little.
“Merci, petite,” he replied. He smiled, even though he did not even open his eyes to see the fireworks.
With everyone cleared out but Logan, Nightcrawler, and his patient, Hank began to talk.
“Now, tell me what has gotten you in such an unfortunate state, my Acadian friend.” His smile and tone were friendly and soothing.
“Gambit got hit with somethin’, out at dat Trask warehouse. Can’t say jes’ what, but damned if it don’t pack a punch.”
“Indeed,” Beast replied. “We will soon get to the bottom of what is ailing you. Nightcrawler, if you would be so kind as to remove M. LeBeau’s armor?”
Kurt teleported around a few times and in a couple seconds, had all of Gambit’s armor neatly arranged on a table. Remy sighed to have the weight removed.
Hank’s brow furrowed as he scanned Gambit with all those devices Logan never got around to understanding.
“Whatcha see, Blue?” Logan asked. He did not even try to conceal his impatience. Nightcrawler stood quietly on Remy’s opposite side.
“I’m not quite sure yet. Now, Remy, I’m going to need to take a few blood samples.”
It was rare for Hank to address someone simply by their first name. He must have picked up on something bad.
Logan wished he had a cigar to distract himself with. He wondered how Kurt remained so calm. Logan watched Remy’s rapid breathing, the pain and stress on his face.
“Do I have your consent to perform a physical examination, Gambit?”
“Oui, have at it,” Remy said through his teeth.
“Thank you for your help, Logan, Nightcrawler. I will report any findings to Cyclops, and he will communicate them with the team.”
“Not so fast, Doc,” Remy said. He continued hesitantly, “I don’t mind the company, if mes amis don’t mind it theyselves.”
Now everything was completely fucked. Beast was using first names, and Gambit was using the first person.
“Not at all, mein Freund,” Nightcrawler said, petting Remy’s hair the same way everyone else did his own. “We are teammates. That is why we are here.”
“Merci, Kurt.”
“They messed you up pretty bad, eh, Gumbo?”
Suddenly, Gambit looked away. “Logan go on usin’ dat name, he gon’ make Remy start heavin’.”
His face really did have a greenish cast to it. His lips were closed tight.
“Ah, sorry, Rems. The pain that bad?”
“Feel like my organs been turned inside out an’ back again.”
“Which organs in particular, Gambit?” Beast asked.
“Somethin’ in my belly feel wrong.” He drew his hand to his abdomen, guarding what was probably a tender spot.
“I don’t see any blood, Remy— correct me if I’m wrong. Did anything wound you?”
“Maybe didn’t wound me ‘zactly. But they is somethin’ bleedin’. Under my clothes.”
“Might I ask you to undress, please? Down to your underwear, and then put this gown on.”
“‘S a tall ask, ‘m afraid.”
“Would you like a hand, lieber Freund?”
Logan could never get over how gentle Nightcrawler was. No wonder that fuzzy little elf was able to break through even his own adamantium defenses and become his friend.
“Most appreciated, homme. Zis suit give me ‘nough trouble on an ordinary day.”
Logan kept his distance while Kurt helped Remy out of his complicated outfit and into the yellow hospital gown. Sometimes he wished he were better at caring for people. It seemed so effortless when Nightcrawler or Jean did it. Maybe when it came down to it, he really was as stiff and useless as Cyclops. Good in a fight, pointless for anything else.
“We are ready, Hank,” Nightcrawler announced.
Beast abandoned his desk and Logan walked back toward Remy’s bedside, now that he was decent again. He was not prepared for how fragile the Ragin’ Cajun looked in that gown. It seemed wrong to see so much of Remy exposed, his arms and legs sticking out, all bare. Remy still guarded his stomach, his body tense all over.
Beast adjusted his glasses and rolled his stool closer to Gambit.
“Do you mind telling me where you are hurt, Remy?”
“Remy hurt evr’where, homme. Bleedin’s in a bad spot. It up between my legs and on my backside.”
“I see,” Hank said, with soft compassion. “Might I have a look?”
“S’il te plaît.” Gambit groaned and winced as he pulled off his shorts from under the gown and dropped them on the floor.
Nightcrawler disappeared and left the shorts folded with his other clothes on the table. When he reappeared, he was standing next to Logan, closer to Remy’s head and shoulders.
Logan’s skin crawled as Hank examined those oh-so-sensitive areas with his flashlight. Remy was taking it all so calm and so brave. If Logan were the one on the examination bed instead of Remy, he knew his claws would have come out. He would be threatening poor Beast’s life. Logan decided then that Gambit was the very toughest of the X-Men.
“I am so sorry, Remy,” said Hank, gently patting his patient’s shoulder when he was done. “How bad is the pain?”
“From dere or from the rest of it?”
Logan could tell that Gambit was forcing the evenness in his tone. He had to be suffering very badly.
“Let’s begin with just those lesions.”
“I don’ know, homme. Can’t say which’s got me ready to heave, dose dere wounds or whatever goin’ on in my belly.”
“Are you feeling terribly nauseated?” Through it all, Hank maintained a gentle and soothing tone. His demeanor was so disarming, it had to play a part in why Remy remained so calm.
“Gambit let you know if he gon’ lose it.”
Beast nodded sympathetically.
“Tell me about the pain in your abdomen.”
“It hurt all up inside. Feel like Logan stuck me in de guts.”
Logan cringed. He hated the image that flashed in his mind, the loss of control, the unintended damage. He could not stand even the idea of his claws harming his teammate.
“I’m going to run a full scan of your abdomen, Gambit, and perform some blood tests. Now, you say you were hit by something in the warehouse. Could you elaborate on that?”
Remy exhaled through his nose. A thick sheen of sweat covered his forehead and face. The red in his eyes was mostly gone, only the faint smolder like the last embers of a partially extinguished fire.
Nightcrawler found a small washcloth to dab at Remy’s face, as their wounded friend tried to explain what happened.
“Was some typa gas. Set me coughin’ somethin’ bad. T’ought I was alright after dat. Fought my way outta dere. Wasn’t till I was on the way here I felt de rest. Sorry I didn’t learn nothin’ from Trask.”
“You got nothing to apologize for, Cajun,” Logan said, not succeeding in keeping back a growl. It was not fair that Gambit felt like a failure for this.
“Indeed, Logan is correct,” Beast replied. “You made your way home as safely as possible. And perhaps you did learn something from Trask. This weapon you describe does not sound like anything we have encountered before.”
“Gambit happy to help,” he said. His lips looked even paler than before.
Nightcrawler disappeared in a puff. The next second, he stood by Remy’s side with a glass of water. He helped their friend to sit up, while Remy held the glass in both his shaking hands. He drank a few sips, then cleared his throat.
“Merci, bon ami.”
Logan sighed in relief to see a slightly healthier color return to Remy’s face. It was just wrong for him to be all pale.
“Indeed,” Hank said. “It’s time for me to draw these blood samples. All the better that you are hydrated.”
He tied off Gambit’s arm, stuck the needle, and filled five vials. Remy did not move or react at all at the stab.
Once he finished the job and bandaged the puncture wound, Hank swiveled around to look at the computer screen.
“Remy, your temperature and blood pressure are quite low. Do you feel faint?”
Gambit laughed weakly. “If Gambit weren’t lyin’ down, he be on the floor.”
“Cajun fainted just a few minutes ago, right when he got through the door.”
Hank hummed in thought. “Your pulse is very fast as well. Please try to breathe deeply and slowly. I promise you, I will find out what has been done to your body.”
“You gon’ find a way to fix it, oui?” Remy asked. His eyes were closed.
It was not like Gambit to look for those kinds of reassurances. He must have been feeling even lower than Logan realized.
“I will stop at nothing, mon frère,” Beast replied.
Gambit’s face twisted up in pain. “Anyt’ing to help zese wounds meantime?”
Kurt held onto Remy’s hand. Remy grabbed on tighter.
Hank turned around and readjusted his glasses. He inhaled deeply before speaking.
“Gambit, I am afraid those lesions resemble those of a disease called hidradenitis suppurativa.”
“Non, promise ya, Doc, I ain’t been wit’ a lady dat way since Bella Donna. Miss Rogue and me can’t quite do it like dat.”
Remy really was brave. Logan could not imagine being so open about his romances at any point in time. Remy was not ashamed of any messes from his past, and he was not ashamed for his friends to know the status of his current relationship. He was not ashamed that he was scared right now, or that wanted the comfort of his friends. Logan thought that was the bravest part of all.
“Not to worry, M. LeBeau. It is not that type of disease. If only it were, it would make more sense, and be more easily treated. No, hidradenitis suppurativa, or HS, is a disease of autoimmunity. And it’s never before been seen in mutants, to my knowledge.”
“Tell us what it does,” Wolverine cut in. He wished he could have been gentle and calm like Kurt. He only knew how to get information, and he only knew how to get it through aggression. Now watching Gambit suffer only put him further on edge. “What will it do?”
“Nothing particularly dangerous,” Hank said.
Remy sighed, a note of pain in his voice. “Grace à dieu.”
Kurt crossed himself.
“But I would be remiss if I did not tell you that it causes a great deal of suffering. And your case, Remy, appears to be of the late stage.”
“Wha’s dat mean, Doc?” Remy asked.
Logan looked away as tears of stress and pain appeared in Remy’s eyes. He wondered why Gambit wanted him, of all people, to stay, and asked Jean to leave. He was no good at comforting people. His friends’ emotions did nothing but shut him down.
“HS is a progressive disease, Remy. It will heal and scar, then erupt and heal and scar. The lesions will continue to appear, and to form deeper underneath your skin. It will be very painful. There is always the risk of the lesions becoming infected, as well, which is what I suspect may be causing this more widespread inflammation.”
“Gambit don’t got no infection,” he countered, while tears dropped down. “Don’t got no fever. Freezin’ to my bones.”
Hank’s eyes looked a little sad and very kind. “Temperatures can drop when a person is very ill. And right now, Remy, you are very ill.”
Gambit blinked quickly to clear away his tears. He steadied his voice and asked, “Right den, what we gon’ do ‘bout it?”
“First, we are going to get you as comfortable as you can be. There are some topical treatments that might relieve some of the worst inflammation. You would need to apply those to your lesions. Ideally, I would like for you to begin a course of antibiotics, but depending on what was in that weapon, I don’t know what that might do to your system. That is why I needed your blood sample. Now, as I said, HS is a progressive disease. Right now, the skin you showed me looks like that of a human who has suffered from HS for over a decade. But fear not, M. LeBeau. I am certain I can decode the agent that has weaponized your immune system.”
Remy just listened and nodded.
“Now, before I release you,” Beast continued, “please allow me to conduct that scan of your abdomen. Does the pain continue?”
“Oh, it continues, mon ami. Gambit tryin’ not to hurl all over your nice clean floor.”
Again, Remy cleared his throat and sighed. Logan was surprised as he found himself patting, then squeezing Remy lightly on the shoulder. Maybe the good influences of Kurt and Jubilee were gradually rubbing off on him, after all.
“This won’t take but a moment,” Hank reassured, and began to slowly slide a large device hanging on a beam above the exam bed. A ray of yellow light emitted from it, and crossed over Remy’s midsection a few times.
“All done with that,” Hank said.
“Couldn’t hardly feel it,” Remy said, attempting to joke. His voice was too sad to pull it off.
“We’re nearly done here, mon ami. Just a brief manual examination, which ought not cause much discomfort. I need to place my hands on you.”
“Do what you gotta do, Doc. Gambit can take it.”
“I know you can, brave friend. You will feel just a small amount of pressure, but hopefully, no pain.”
Beast laid his furry hand on Remy’s stomach. Remy flinched just a little, and reached up, probably involuntarily, for something to grab onto.
That thing happened to be Logan’s thick wrist. Logan would normally jerk back, pull away. He battled his instinct, fighting to remain there for his friend. He took a deep breath and held onto Remy’s forearm, strong and steady.
Remy winced as Beast pressed his palm into his abdomen.
“Does it hurt there?” Hank asked, although he clearly knew the answer.
“Oui,” Remy whispered. He gritted his teeth for the next one.
Again, Hank pushed against Remy’s belly, which was at this point a rigid board.
“Uh, stop, s’il te plaît,” he said, as the last vestiges of color left his face.
Nightcrawler quickly transported away and back again, reappearing with a small trashcan.
Logan helped Remy sit up in time to get sick into the wastebasket. He held back Remy’s long hair, while Kurt held the trashcan steady. Together, they aimed to give their friend nothing to worry or think about.
“Merde,” he panted once he was done. Kurt handed him the glass of water again, and offered the wastebasket for him to spit in.
Logan eased him back into a supine position. “How ya feelin’?” he asked quietly.
“Bit shaky. Dat finish the exam, Doc?” The blood had not returned to his face.
“I am very sorry, but not quite yet. I must check each quadrant. Just hold steady, Remy.”
Gambit clutched Logan’s wrist again. This time Logan did not even have the urge to flinch. He gripped Remy’s forearm, hoping his steadiness would calm his friend’s shaking.
Remy did exactly as he was told. He did not move or make a sound, besides answering “oui” every time Beast asked if it hurt.
“It appears you have some generalized inflammation, my Cajun friend. That is not unexpected if you do have an infection, as I suspect is the case. You can take an antiemetic to help with your nausea, along with some anti inflammatories. These may relieve some symptoms, but they are not a cure. Until we know what is the true cause of this trouble, the only thing I can say for certain is that you must rest and try to relax.”
“Oui, I’ll do my best,” Gambit said.
“Here is that topical medicine,” Beast said, setting a small tube on the table next to Remy’s clothes and armor. “You may redress now. I shall be back in a moment with the antiemetic.”
“What Remy want right now is to sleep for a year,” Gambit murmured to his friends.
“I know, Cajun. We’ll get ya there.”
Kurt discreetly placed Remy’s folded shorts right beside him, as Logan helped him to stand up. Remy grunted as he tugged them back on underneath his hospital gown.
“You two prob’ly seen a lot more of Gambit now than you like,” he said.
Nightcrawler spoke for the both of them. “We are just glad we could be there for you, lieber Freund.”
“Merci, Kurt. Y’all know how to make a guy feel loved.”
Again, Logan was humbled by Remy’s candor. Maybe if Kurt and Jubilee could teach him how not to fear comforting a person, perhaps Remy could teach him how not to fear saying his feelings out loud.
“C’mon, Rems. Let’s get the rest of your medicine and get you outta here.”
They took the elevator up and helped Remy limp to his bedroom. He wanted to shower, so Logan waited outside the bathroom door. Someone needed to listen, to hear if he fainted or got sick again.
About twenty minutes later, Remy emerged with wet hair and a flush in his face, dressed in that obnoxious pink crop top and sweats. It was reassuring to see him looking a bit more like his usual tacky self.
“Did you do the medicine?” Logan asked.
“Oui,” Remy replied. “Harder den it seem. Some places, the mirror don’t really reach.”
Logan tried not to shudder. He did not want to think about that type of pain and discomfort.
Remy pulled back the sheets and slowly lowered himself onto the bed. Instinctively, Logan pulled up the blanket to cover him.
“Merci,” Remy murmured, eyelids closing.
“I’m sorry all this happened to you, Rems,” Logan said.
“‘S alright, Logan,” he hummed. “Gambit get t’rough it. He always does.”