#gambit comic

"is he awake?" she tried after beast remained silent. "ah yes, he woke this morning no more need for- he hasn't said a word."

beast's eyes trailed off towards remy's form. he was slumped on his side facing the wall. his 'hands' tucked under the blanket.

-

"gambit go left, spark go right, wolverine take the flank." those were scott's orders. out here in the middle of the field no one dared disobeyed. all their problems at home, might be one thing, but here it was implicit trust.

-

she approached remy with quiet footsteps. like trying not to scare an already freighted cat. "rem-?' ugh she never called him that. "you uh?" alright? of course not. "you awake?"

he didn't answer, he didn't even move. but she could see his eyes blink closed from the foot of the bed. she didn't try again after that. she slid her weight to her hip and kicked her foot against the med lab floor.

that's when the door opened and in walked scott. "he's awake?"

-

bang

she looked over from her position. ready to run in remy's direction when scott gave the order in her comm. 'stay'

it was a mess of things she could barely see. she was too busy covering scott's left and flurries of fire coming her way to really keep her eyes over there. scott's got it, she repeated to herself, trust him.

-

her eyes immediately met beasts. remy wouldn't want this right now. she nodded her head towards the door and beast led scott outside to talk.

she walked closer to him and reached out to tuck his loose hair behind his ear. that always bothered remy. but he instantly flinched away from her touch. and she had pulled back, hard. startling herself.

fuck what was she supposed to do?

when beast returned a few moments later. scott was nowhere in sight. he walked over to remy's bed and pulled out a chart, reading monitors. probably re-checking his vitals again. when he pulled his glasses down over his nose and looked up at her, he nodded and said. "shall we?"

remy did not like what they were doing to him. she thought they were gonna have to sedate him again. but eventually he relented and let them get him upright. he looked at no one. and kept his 'hands' hidden behind his back. he fumbled the first few steps.

"remy, let us grab you a wheelchair-" remy didn't pay him any attention and simply walked off towards the elevators. she followed behind him exchanging a look with beast. she knew better than to try and touch him again.

once they were both in the elevator. she paused inside it dumbly just waiting. shit i gotta press it. she fumbled for the button, risking an embarrassed glance towards him as the doors closed. he didn't look at her.

-

she doesn't know what ended up happening on that mission after that. just that scott made the wrong call. shit... if logan woulda went right and-

whoever had been on remy's right. fucked him up bad. she remembers the sound of something whirring. it had been so loud, despite the fact she couldn't see. and him screaming. the sound still rings in her ears even now.

his hands... when she finally got to his side... she almost threw up at the sight. she did. so much was going on. he was being triaged and slid onto a gurney. there was so much blood. she looked over to the floor and there sat some of his cards and is that a finger? she threw up instantly, after that.

they didn't let anyone near him when they took remy away. and she paced the hall outside the med lab, all night, until beast finally let her in.

-

once they made it up to his level. she opened his door and shut it after herself. remy went to his bed and threw himself over it. his arm covering his face. his bandages were already bleeding again. she should probably go back down and have a little debrief on the care remy needed.

for now she went and closed his blinds for him and was about to grab him a water opening his mini fridge... and a straw yeah he need that.

"non" it was the first time he said anything since. she slowly looked over at it him. he was shaking his head. his arm still over his eyes. fuck his bandages were really red. she grabbed the water anyways and shuffled through a few drawers and found an old unopened fast food straw.

he didn't say anything more. so she brought it closer to him. standing right at the edge of his bed on his side. "here remy, i think you should-"

thwack

it startled the shit out of her. he lifted his arm, the one covering his eyes and smacked the bottle clean over his bed. "ssss" he winced out in pain.

remy never had raised a hand to her before. the bottle was now soaking his whole bed and him, she immediately fumbled for it. her first instinct after she recovered the bottle was to hit him back. her hand already raised, but she lowered it. remy's not feeling like himself.

instead she, quite sharply, having trouble measuring her tone. said through gritted teeth. "what would you like then?" he didn't answer and she realized she wasn't even angry. she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. she was probably using anger to sublimate what she was really feeling.

god, she had the worse bedside manner. why her? and fuck one little strike had all the times her father had ever raised his hand to her-

"m'sorry" remy said after a few moments and she realized she been blankly staring at the floor for who knows how long. "bulleit please." remy followed up with shortly after.

should she really be supplying him with liquor? don't think the doctor ordered that.

when remy moved like he was about to stand. her heart sank for some reason, and she subconsciously pushed his chest back down. oops, don't touch him, she repeated to herself.

"i'll get it." as she walked passed him though she realized she wasn't the only one with tears in her eyes.

she grabbed his whiskey from where is sat warm on his dresser and made intense eye contact with him as she picked up his straw from the floor where he knocked it out her hand and placed it into his bottle.

"maybe try being nicer to the girl with thumbs next time, yeah?" she threw out before thinking better of it. but he just made a little sound, half a laugh and half him choking. she brought the bottle to his lips and he didn't drink until she looked away.

By day four, she decided to linger in the hall long enough for the smell of breakfast to make her stomach growl. After that she started showing up around the place, joining meals, sitting in meetings, and using the training room.

She tried to keep it consistent, the best she could even if she was screaming on the inside. She did not belong in a place like this.

Regardless, the team made space for her… and then there was Scott.

He wasn’t the kind of guy that tried too hard to get her to like him. He never once put pressure on her, never asked her for more than she gave. Their first training sesh, he just handed her a control band and said, “Let’s start out slow, okay?”

Something clicked for her after that. She liked his structure, his ease around her, and his straightforward instructions. 

They don’t talk much, though, but they do train often. She thanks him for being present, it helped her feel like part of the team. His natural way of just being a leader.

About a week later, she was already three missions in. It felt like she finally earned her place amongst them, even if she still moves like she doesn’t quite believe it.

Tonight, she comes home late, solo op! One she begged Erik for, it went smoothly, ended clean, she had it all under control.

But now she’s exhausted from pretending to be this version of herself, a team player, someone who fills out paperwork and listens to Scott and Erik argue over things she rarely gets a say in.

She needs a drink, she decides to make her way over to the kitchen. This late, she doubts anyone will still be up, perfect for her to grab a quick one.

She moves through the space quietly, trying not to draw attention to herself. She pushes through the kitchen door and leaves the light off, the moonlight spilling in across the counter’s more than enough for her to see and she doesn’t even need it… she’s done this a few times already.

She heads straight for the cabinet above the fridge as she stands on her tiptoes, her hand reaching back blindly searching for the bottle, it’s the only one stocked in there.

Then she pulls down a shot glass immediately pouring some for herself, god I need this, and as she’s just about to lift it to her lips—

“Y’old enough to drink that, chère?”

She nearly drops the glass in her hand as her head whips around. Someone else is in here with her…

He’s leaning against the far counter, with these dark eyes and some half-shadowed smirk. She does a double take because who is that?

She looks him over, she swears his eyes are red? He’s wearing a long coat that nearly touches the floor, his boots are caked with mud, that's definitely tracked all over the kitchen and he’s got a duffle bag slouched around his feet . 

He stands there with a drink in hand, something dark that catches the moonlight as he lifts it lazily to his lips. He must’ve been watching her this entire time…

-

She just downs the shot without saying a thing. She doesn't even flinch at it, drinking it like its water, but he doesn't miss the way her hand trembles as she sets the glass down. 

Then she leans back against the counter, all soft curves hidden in the shadows of the dark kitchen with one of her hips cocked. She tilts her head at him, her eyes staring right into his.

“Old enough, baby,” she finally replies smoothly, it feels rehearsed. Who’s child is this?

Quieter she adds, “Haven’t seen you around yet.”

The kid’s still in uniform, something standard, fitted… a little too fitted if you asked him. Were they X-Men or strippers now? 

They dressed her in some kind of thing that says look if you want, but you’ll regret thinking you could touch… Oh he’s thinking about it, she’s gotta be like what? Mid twenties… maybe? Hopefully. 

Still, she looks young… too young. Like barely drinking age. Should he stop her from drinkin’ that?

And there’s this flicker of uncertainty behind her eyes, like she’s trying so hard to be someone else right now. He ain’t sure ‘bout this…

"Ain’t nobody mentioned we had fresh blood.” He tips his glass toward her. “Name’s Gamb—Remy…”

She tries it out a few seconds later, “R-Remy?...” It rolls off her tongue a little stuttered like she’s testing the taste of it. Hmm, taste good, baby? 

She cute, damn he’s already intrigued.

-

She gives him her name in return. By now she’s already clocked his accent. God, every time he opens his mouth… it goes straight to in between her legs 

She realizes she’s been staring at him… a little too long. She blinks and pulls herself back with a small nod and pours herself another shot. 

Then she turns and walks out of the kitchen like it was never personal, like her heart wasn’t hammering in her chest. Who was that? Remy…

-

Remy watches her go as he grins to himself. He’s already wondering what the hell just happened. 

“By da way chérie dat be my liquor you been dranking…”