THE COST OF THINGS
Head bowed, Remy Lebeau absently stared into a near empty glass of amber liquid, inattentive to his whereabouts and those in its vicinity. This was out of character for the man commonly referred to as Gambit, master thief and sworn enemy of the Assassins' Guild. Since early youth he had been taught to always be aware of his surroundings, for not doing so could cost him dearly. His current behavior begged the question: Did he want to be taken unawares?

"You're gettin' careless, Gumbo."

His eyes shut when a familiar voice sounded from the rear. An unsuccessful effort to will the spokesman away brought a wry smile to his lips. What a great mutation that would make - Wolverine repellant. He chuckled at his own cleverness.

Remy's only verbal acknowledgment to the presence was a clipped, "Get lost."

Logan pressed on, "She almost caught you in her room a few nights back."

She meaning his soulmate and the mother-to-be of his child. Rogue.

"Get lost."

The order was disregarded again. "It's time to come home. Her due date is approachin' and, with that skin of hers, the outcome is goin' to be unpredictable..."

"In case you didn't get de memo," Remy interrupted, "ain't got no home. As for de guilt, got enough to last a lifetime... so keep it."

"Self-pity doesn't look good on you," Logan advised.

"Pshaw. Everything looks good on Gambit." To prove his point, he grabbed the woman situated closest to him and started fondling her with intent. His chosen partner, as drunk as he was, did not seem to mind the manhandling. "Ain't dat right, petite? Gambit's a handsome devil."

"Oh yeah," she eagerly crooned as he peeled up her shirt and flattened a palm against bare flesh. The playful mood came to an abrupt end. As soon as contact was made, an expression of distaste washed over Remy and he gave her a shove. She stumbled, lost her footing and, then, began spouting a number of colorful curses. Ignoring her, he beckoned the bartender for a refill.

"I've known you to be a lot of things, but I never thought you were a coward. Not until now." Logan's comment lacked inflection.

No response was forthcoming.

"You're terrified. Which scares you more, that Rogue won't want you back or that maybe... just maybe... she will?"

Remy remained hunched at the bar, but the tensing of muscles was a tell-tale sign that the words had hit a sore spot.

"Heads up, Cajun, we've all done things we're ashamed of. Sittin' in bars with no-account whores ain't the way to make amends."

"Rogue deserves somebody better."

The statement was not refuted. "You're right, she does. Problem is, she doesn't want better. I've given you months to grow some balls... I'm not coverin' for you anymore. The next time you visit, she'll be told. So, either return for good or don't come back at all. Those are the only options you get."

"Gambit wouldn't goin' to go back no way. He's said his goodbyes."

Logan's disbelief was apparent. "Lie to yourself all you want, you can't lie to me. You won't stay away. You can't stay away. Not unless you're forced to. And guess what? If necessary, I'm goin' to be the enforcer."

"What's dis about, runt? So you can have her for yourself? Rogue and Gambit are none of your affair." The use of Sabertooth's baiting nickname did not go unnoticed.

"Wrong answer, bub," was the reply. "Rogue's an amazin' lady. She's not goin' to wait around forever. She's too strong for the likes of that. I'm offerin' some friendly advice in tellin' you to go to her." A contemplative quiet elapsed before Logan continued, "Fact is, that kid of your all's is goin' to need a daddy and, if you don't want the job... I just might. Rogue'd be a nice additive too."

His fears being confirmed, an enraged Gambit blindly swung, missed and, in his stupor, toppled from his stool.

"You can't steal forgiveness. It takes work... toil. It's hard. And, if you don't find forgiveness, you sure as heck'll never find happiness."

Gambit's leg kicked out to trip and bring Wolverine eye level. It was his second failed attempt. His former teammate, extremely agile for his husky stature, avoided the strike and, devoid of compassion, roughly battered the card-thrower's ribs with a kick of his own.

"You can't afford it, can you? The price of happiness is too steep."

Reaching into his pocket, Gambit extracted and hurled his weapon of choice, not considering the repercussions. The jack of hearts was easily dodged, collided with a back wall and, subsequently, detonated, which caused the establishment to suffer a tremor. The explosion led the patrons who had been edging forward to witness the scuffle to alter their course. Terror-filled cries regarding "mutants" overtook the joviality of moments before.

The contestants paid no heed to the evacuation, solely focused on one another.

"You ought to get back to the mansion. If not for Rogue and the kid, then for Cyclops' trainin' sessions. Jubilee's given me more of an exercise than this."

Gambit, having reclaimed his balance, emitted a roar and charged. The Wolverine gave a feral grin and met him half way. Several blows followed, pent up anger and aggression behind each.

"She's best off without me. They both are." The third person speech disappeared to a combination of sincerity and exhaustion.

Wolverine spit blood from an already healing wound to his mouth. With a powerful deck, Gambit crashed onto a tabletop. The wood splintered under his weight, gave way and the short-lived battle was finished.

The victor stalked across the room and grasped his downed rival by the collar of his trench coat. He permitted two claws, the left and right, to fully extend while the middle scarcely escaped. To intimidate, the middle dug itself against Gambit's throat while the others sandwiched his face.

Acting pensive, Wolverine conversationally remarked, "I could make you not so pretty."

Gambit was unfazed by the threat. His unblinking red orbs plead for an end that would not come. Not by these claws at least. When the adamantium-laced bones of destruction finally retracted, he tiredly repeated, "She's best off without me. They both are."

His defeatist attitude earned a disgusted shake of the head. "Everything you've ever had has been tainted with wrongdoin'. Then, you get something right and good for a change - her and the kid - and you won't even try. They're your first step toward redemption. If you don't make a move, all I can say is... enjoy hell."

Sensing the fight had concluded, the cowering bartender dared to speak, "W-w-who is g-g-going to pay for t-t-this mess?"

Releasing his hold, Wolverine withdrew a wad of cash and threw it on Remy's now sprawled form. "I'll pay. I'll pay whatever it takes."

There was no further exchange between the trio of men and everyone else had gone. Silence reigned.

Mission accomplished, a tame Logan departed. It was time to go home.

THE END
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