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The city of New Orleans always held an eerie sense, even to its most familiar of residents. There were always those who stalked you in the night, those who watched, whether alive or dead. Only those who were fools disbelieved in the supernatural elements that haunted the streets, and often times those fools had a change of heart at some point in their lives.
Remy Lebeau found himself in the heart of the city most nights. He was familiar with the twisting streets, the French architecture, and the bustle even at the least popular of hours, despite his younger age. However a silence seemed to strike nearby. It was strange, unfamiliar and he knew that oftentimes silence never came with anything good.
Earlier in the night, when the sky had just darkened he had been doing exactly what he was known for, patrolling the streets contrary to the guilds' liking. It was a few hours in when he first felt it, the unknown presence following him.
A shiver played over his figure as he stood in an alley. It was involuntary, a visceral warning of what might be nearby. "I ain't scared of you." He spoke into the dead air, a strong facade displayed against the dark.
One thing was for sure, his time in the guild, his time as a thief certainly came with perks. Easily he caught the wind that ran against his neck and the slightest sound of a step. He turned, facing the intruder, only met with the shroud of darkness.
"I know you're there." He spoke gruffly, his eyes still scanning the area. Despite their adaptiveness to the black and barely lit streets of the Paris of the South they failed to see any details that had changed in the grimey alley. "I don't know what you are, but it would be in your best intent' to leave."
He lazily flicked a card in his hand, not yet ready to fight nor run. While it seemed like just a normal card, most people knew of its intention, and most people knew exactly what someone of his kind could do.
"I've been watching you." A voice drawled from the shadows, immediately he could tell that whoever it was, knew these streets just as well as him. He scrunched his eyes, trying his best to pick anything out from the darkness, but he was still met with nothing besides the voice. "You're the Gambit aren't you?"
"You can come out poupée ." He spoke, having a slight idea of what exactly he was dealing with. "I don't hurt people like myself."
"How'd you know?" The voice asked with interest. Remy watched as a girl, who seemed only a teenager like himself, stepped out from the shadows. His eyebrow quirked as he looked down, seeing that the shadows appeared to completely blend into her legs.
"I've heard about ya'." Remy knew of the countless whispers on the streets and from the guild that there was someone much like himself, something that the city had never quite seen before. "And I've been lookin' for ya' too ombre."
She smiled, her eyes running up and down his figure, "Sounds about right."
He smirked, not missing the way her eyes seemed to glint in some form of appreciation, "You got a name?"
She stalked towards him, getting far closer than what he had any mind to expect, "You guessed it right, Ombré."
Remy shook his head, his signature smirk still displayed. "What I want is your real name, chere."
She leaned close to him, the faintest of her breaths tickling his ear, "Y/N."
"Nice to meet you, Y/N." Remy repeated aloud, knowing deep inside that this? This was the beginning of something new.
—
It was a mission that changed his perspective. The usual Sentinel attack on the team itself. Except this one was different, stronger.
It was becoming glaringly obvious to himself, and the team, that risks were beginning to increase. Sentiments towards mutants seemed to be getting worse with every week.
The brotherhood was partially to thank for that, the few remaining loyal members towards Magneto's cause had lately begun increasing in boldness. Proudly displaying their power, it was no shock that governments and civilians were growing more weary by the day.
The push towards stronger weapons against mutants meant more risk towards those alone. The school was different, well guarded thanks to the efforts of the Professor and the team. But the worries lay with the new mutants, the children who risked being found before the Professor could reach them, or the older ones smart enough to remain in hiding.
One small slip up in the case of an old or new mutant and they risked a permanent capture and placement in one of the government's many facilities. There were rumors of what went on in those, and none of it sounded good or humane.
The last meeting with the Professor was more of a warning, gather your friends and family, anyone you cared about who showed the mutant gene. The mansion was the only place safe enough to placate any worry.
—
It was often that he came to the city, but he no longer ran the streets like he did before. Most times it was a simple days trip, dealing with Henri and guild business after Jean Luc had unwillingly retired from running operations.
The occasional recon as well, when Henri warned him of more mutant-like activities in the streets. Remy had a special place in his heart for the mutant youngsters of the city. He had been there once, before the guild and its values, and it was his duty to try and provide them the safety he never quite had.
This time, though, he found himself in the Crescent City's outer parts. He wasn't as familiar with it as the quarter or any of the territory the thieves guild held, but no matter what any part of the city was still home.
He had parked carelessly on the street, anyone in the city knowing not to mess with a certain important member of its inner ring. It was the brick house that stood in front of him off a paved path that was his target.
He knocked firmly on the door, it opened almost immediately. An older woman stood behind it, almost as if she expected the mutant's presence, "She's not here boy."
Remy startled, but still keeping his poker face, he had half expected that answer. Still he couldn't help but find himself disappointed. "Henri told you I was coming, eh?"
She nodded, "Might as well come in LeBeau."
The home was just as inviting as he once remembered. His childhood self spent countless hours of every season inside or on its porch.
He stood in the entryway, "Sorry, not much time for talkin'. Where is she?"
"Straight to the point like always." She responded fondly. "At least take a seat while I find the map, boy."
—
Remy sniffed the air, he could smell the strong emissions of the bayou. The strong stench of mud and murky water overpowered all else.
The truck tires crackled against the gravel and dirt road, much different from the normal grassy and clear roads of upstate New York, but to him this was even more familiar. Mud caked the sides of the truck, standing out against the red wrap that Scott had chosen.
Houses were scattered out here, either on the water itself or built on stilts to protect from the flooding that happened often. Docks were just as scattered, ramps to most people's livelihood around here, the water.
Remy didn't miss the changes since the half a decade he'd been gone, fences torn down, the few houses not rebuilt with visible damage, and the signs of less and less people.
He idled the truck to a stop as he saw a metal gate on the side of the road, leading to a smaller trail. Cattails covered the sides of the road, his boots breaking them down as he stepped from the vehicle. He opened the gate, looking back on more time at the main road before starting down the path.
The trail was short, a few hundred feet at most. It cut through the long weeds and plants native to the bayou's wetlands, stopping at a small slightly overgrown yard with a house at its back.
The wooden house looked exactly the same from the last time he visited. The porch worn with time, hurricane shutters on the sides of the windows, and two rocking chairs in the corner. He saw the truck parked to the side, a few decades old and one he had rode in plenty of times.
The porch creaked as he stepped onto it, raising a hand to the door he knocked softly. He smiled as he heard the footsteps on the other side, the door opening to reveal her. It was just like old times.
She sighed as she saw him, "Grandma gave me up, didn't she?"
He laughed at her guess, a weight lifting off of him, "I woulda found you here eventually, mon ombre."
She frowned, moving to the side in an inviting manner, "It's Y/N now Remy."
He shook his head as he walked inside, the house scarcely decorated except for some pieces of furniture. She shut the door behind him, moving towards the small kitchen, pulling a bottle out as Remy sat on the couch.
She offered him a glass before sitting next to him, "I don't go by that name anymore, not since they hurt them."
"Of course, chere." The Cajun nodded sympathetically before taking a sip of the strong local whiskey. Despite the only few years that had passed since he'd last seen her, time had taken its toll on them both.
She spoke softly, an underlying fondness present that Remy had missed with every bit of his heart, because he knew damn well it was only reserved for him, "Remy, what do you want?"
Now what he said wasn't a lie. It was the cold hard truth, even if there were a few extra details that went with it, "To see ya' and to convince ya' to just give my life a try."
"We both know that ain't the truth." She looked him in the eyes, knowing that he was leaving some of the most important details out. "I'm fine here."
He could see it in her eyes, the words she just spoke, all a lie. But he knew why, it was the same fear he felt, "Chere, don't tell me this is what you wanted."
She went off again, speaking anything but the truth, "I'm making a living and I'm safe. That sounds like happiness to me."
There was a set of unspoken words in the air. Despite contentment and new relationships along the way, nothing was ever the same as before, happiness would never quite be the same.
A spark charged in his heart, not the familiar kinetic energy he always felt coursing through him, but something more. For once in his life, Remy wasn't willing to smooth talk or flirt his way out of a situation, he was almost at a loss of words, "Come with me, amour."
"I missed you, Remy." She placed her hand on top of his own, resting them against the space between them. "But I can't run anymore, I'm tired."
Remy was no fool, he could see the years. See the aging that wracked them both, the stress of being hunted in a world that refused to change. For him the worse had always come with running, but nobody ever said that fighting was easy, nothing was ever easy with who they were in this world, "You won't be runnin', I promise you that."
It was a promise he meant, and Remy Lebeau wasn't known for making or very well keeping promises. He was a gambler, but this? This was something he knew, something he would never bet on.
His hand turned to grip her own, "It's safe, chere, as safe as it can be. You won't have to hide anymore, and it won't just be Gambit protectin' you."
"Remy-" He could see the wheels turning in that bright mind of hers. She was always the more hesitant one, the one that planned ahead without jumping head first into the action like he was known for.
"If you don' like it you can always come back here, mon ange." He knew that he couldn't leave, not until he was promised her safety in one way or another. "Just take a gamble one last time. I need you safe, please amour."
She turned slightly, leaning towards him before hugging him tightly, catching him off guard. "I'll do it as one last gamble, but only for you Cajun."
"Every second I'm without ya', I feel my head spinnin' just wanting to know that you're safe." He parted slightly to cup her head in his worn hand. "You mean the entire world to me, and I would burn everythin' to the ground to protect you."
She smiled at the sentiment, the familiar light in her eyes that he loved making an appearance, "Where are you takin' me, Remy?"
"Somewhere where I can keep ya' by my side forever, chere."