Notes:  Finally, after four years, I finally started the sequel to Cold Hearted Truth.  This story arc is extremely AU and so far off the canon path you will need a map to find your way back. 

Disclaimer: Marvel owns the characters I do not.  I do not follow continuity, neither does Marvel. Gambit is a great character; unfortunately, the writers in the X books don’t understand this.  Ok, end of mini rant.

Warning:    This story will be a strong PG 13, with a possibility R rating, mostly violence related.  Hey, what else did you expect? It’s me.  I couldn’t write fluff even if my life depended on it.

Continuity:  Takes place directly after The Cold Hearted Truth ended.

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A Family Divided

Kaleidopy

Chapter two

Following procedure of handling intruders and trespassers, the team took their positions waiting for Scott to give the word to confront the intruder.  Cyclops raised his hand ready to alert the team when his wife’s voice came through the communicator.

 

“Scott, wait.  Cerebro has located the intruder.  He’s…”  Jean’s voice ended abruptly. 

 

Scott touched his communicator, calling his wife.  “Jean what’s wrong?” 

 

“Nothing, but the intruder is in the parlor room, sitting on the sofa reading a magazine,” Jean explained.  Laughter hinted in her voice.  “He’s eating a sandwich.”

 

“What?  Nobody is that stupid.”

 

“Cerebro detects no weapons.  The intruder apparently wanted to get our attention.”

 

“Arrogant isn’t he.”  Scott angrily tapped his com-badge.  “Wolverine, our guest is….”

 

“I know where he is.” Wolverine snarled, listening to the conversation between man and wife.  “I’m already on ‘em.”

 

“Don’t engage….”  Cyclops sighed, letting his voice trail off.  Why waste his breath?  Wolverine always did what he wanted.  He hurried upstairs, rushed into the parlor and found Wolverine’s fingers wrapped around a young man’s throat, lifting him in the air.  “Wolverine put him down.” 

 

Wolverine turned and glared at Scott.  The large hand opened and the stranger dropped to the sofa clutching his throat.   

 

Cyclops advanced, carefully watching the intruder who continued to rub his throat.  “You’re trespassing on private property.  Don’t claim you didn’t know.  There are several signs posted throughout the premises.  Now tell us, who you are, who employed you and why you are here?”  When his questions weren’t answered, Scott nodded in Wolverine’s direction.  “My friend doesn’t like trespassers, especially those who break into his home.  Either answer my questions or Wolverine will get them from you.”

 

“You must be Scott Summers.”  The young man said, analyzing Cyclops with an insulting laugh.  “Mon Dieu.  Remy’s right.  You are a jerk!”

 

“You know Gambit?  How long?”  Scott asked, ignoring Bobby’s laughter at the insult.  He detected a Cajun accent.  Perhaps getting a little information from an unlikely source might give him some insight on his brother’s past.  “What business do you have with Gambit?”

 

“Is your code name Nosy?  What’s your mutant power?  Talking until the enemy surrenders?” 

 

“Another smart ass.”  Wolverine growled at the trespasser.  “Well I ain’t in the mood.  You wanna tell us your name or do I have some fun and beat the answer outta you?” 

 

“His name is Emil Lapin.”  Storm entered the room, answering the question most wanted answered.  “He is also a practical joker and Remy’s cousin.”  Giving Emil a stern look, she added, “Though Emil tends to create excitement wherever he goes, he meant no harm.” 

 

“You coulda told us who you were, bub.  Next time you visit your cousin, use the front door like everyone else,” Wolverine snarled.  With the warning issued, the Canadian stormed out of the room grumbling inaudible words under his breath.

 

“You must forgive Logan.  He tends to react first and think later,” Storm greeted the visitor with a warm smile.  “It is good to see you again.  However Remy did not tell me you were arriving.” 

 

“He doesn’t know.” 

 

Concerned over the surprised visit, Storm could only come to only one conclusion why the visit was unplanned.  “Is Jean-Luc…”

 

“Uncle is fine.  He sends you his blessings.  My visit is only that, a visit, nothing more.  The family is well.  There is no need to concern yourself over my cousin.”

 

“I shall tell Remy of your arrival.  Remain here.  My friends will see to your comfort.”  She turned to leave but an explosion rocked the mansion, knocking everyone to the floor.

 

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McCoy hurried out of the lab, down several corridors and up two flights of stairs before he and Wolverine almost collided into one another in the atrium.

 

“It came from the garage area,” Wolverine shouted, leading the others outside to the large courtyard.  In the darkness, his eyes easily detected smoke rising from the building.

 

“Smoke.”  Storm voiced Wolverine’s discovery and pointed towards the garage before taking to the air.

 

Using her telekinetic abilities Jean opened two of the three garage doors just as glass shattered from a side window caused by an exploding motorcycle tire.  Everyone ducked, dodging the sharp pieces of glass that flew in different directions.

 

Storm created a gust of wind sending the fading plumes of lingering smoke into the air.

 

“I cannot detect anyone inside,” Jean revealed, continuing to scan the garage for casualties.  Seconds later, she announced with a relieved sigh.  “It’s empty.”

 

Wolverine and Scott rushed inside the garage searching for the cause of the explosion while Jean and Storm searched outside.

 

“My car!”  Scott shouted, discovering the smoke came from his vehicle.  He waved his hand in front of his face and nearly tripped over something spinning on the floor.  Water quenched some of the smoke and the steady wind gust Storm created to cleanse the air blew the remaining smoke out the windows and doors.

 

The spinning stopped and Scott stood dumbfounded, staring at what was once the passenger door of his beloved car.  It now resembled a twisted piece of metal found in a junkyard.  He vaguely heard Wolverine’s angry snarl as he left the garage.

 

Wolverine followed, holding a charred mirror loosely in his hand before angrily tossing it over his shoulder.  “Somebody’s gonna pay for this.”

 

“Well, you said it needed a tune-up,” Jean replied, smiling forcefully.  Her attempt at light humor earned her two angry stares.  

 

“If the sprinkler system hadn’t been installed the garage would have gone up in flames.”  Scott looked at his friends for an explanation.  “Does anyone have a clue at what might have happened?  It appears the explosion started from Remy’s bike.”

 

“A puncture in the gas tank?”  Jean guessed.

 

“Somebody better tell the Cajun the bad news.”  Wolverine glanced at Storm who lowered her eyes and turned away.  “Ro?”

 

“Logan, whether I tell Remy or not, learning his bike has been destroyed will not lessen the blow.”  When Scott and Jean turned pleading eyes towards her, Storm countered.  “He is your brother, Scott.  Perhaps this would be the perfect opportunity for you and he to….”

 

“He likes you!” Scott argued.  “If I tell him, he’s going to find some excuse to blame me, and don’t you dare laugh.  You know I’m right.”

 

“Very well,” Ororo relented, raising a brow at Cyclops’ unusual childish response.  “However, I shall remind you of this favor very soon.  Prepare yourself for an expensive meal.”  She headed back inside the mansion listening to Jean’s soft laughter.

 

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"Ten minutes,” the husky voice angrily stated, clearly aggravated at the person whom he was speaking.  “Not good enough for you, LeBeau, then forget it.”

 

“Non, ten’s fine.  I’ll be there.”  Remy ended the brief conversation, stuffed the cellular phone in his jacket and moved across the empty courtyard.  The thunderstorm earlier had given way to a full moon night sky and the smell of burning rubber only reminded him of the damage he had done to the garage. 

 

It had started out so innocently.  With the X-Men occupied with an intruder, he saw the perfect opportunity to sneak away on his bike to gather his thoughts.  Anything that would grant him a few hours of escape from Scott Summers and his never-ending pursuit of wanting to know where his baby brother was at all times. 

 

A bike ride down an isolated road seemed like a good idea at the time.

 

He had hurried to the garage ready to hop on his bike but everything went downhill when he noticed the back tire was going flat.  He stooped down to investigate, grabbing the seat for support.  The terrifying familiar sound of kinetic energy charging alerted him to the seat glowing. 

 

He didn’t have time to react or prepare himself for the impending explosion.  The seat exploded, knocking him against the wall sending him into brief unconsciousness.  He awoke to a painful headache and a sore arm. 

 

He tucked his injured arm against his chest, easing some of the pain while pulling himself up into a sitting position.  The scene in the garage was frightening.  Thick smoke filled the building, choking what little oxygen remained out of the garage.  The explosion created a ripple effect, charging object after object until he had no choice but to retreat.

 

It was happening again, just as Sinister had warned him.  He could no longer deny the truth.  Unless he took control over his own destiny, he would repeat the same mistakes that had created the incident in Seattle.  He couldn’t live through that pain again and the destruction he had caused. 

 

His answer resided with one person who could get him whatever he needed, but it also opened the door into hell.

 

With the phone call completed, Remy darted across the mansion grounds, using the garden lattice to climb up to the balcony into Storm’s loft.  He made his way down a flight of stairs to his room to find a pair of leather gloves.  Unable to find them, he hurried back upstairs and started to descend the balcony.

 

Bishop rounded the corner and Remy quickly ducked into the shadows to avoid detection.

 

“Bishop,” Scott’s voice came through the ex-cop’s wrist communicator.  “The fire in the garage is out.”

 

“Any connection with the intruder?  The alert has been cancelled.”

 

“The intruder has been identified.  Storm’s knows him.  He’s Remy’s cousin, Emil Lapin.”

 

“I know the name.”  Bishop said.

 

“Cyclops out.”

 

Hearing Lapin was the intruder startled Remy.  He hadn’t spoken to Lapin in months.  Why was he here?  Lapin never visited him in New York before.  Why now?  If the tone in Scott’s voice hadn’t been calm, Remy would have believed Lapin’s arrival was an omen. 

 

He would deal with Lapin later.  At the moment, he had a rendezvous to keep.

 

Bishop moved away, giving Remy the opportunity to leave the premises undetected.

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With calm restored, Storm returned to the war room to find the large room empty and the chair Remy occupied earlier overturned, almost as if he had been in a hurry to leave.  But where could he have gone? 

 

Perhaps he was upstairs?

 

She hurried to his room, knocked twice and waited for approval to enter.  When silence answered her, she slowly opened the door calling his name.  What greeted her shocked her into stunned silence.

 

The room, normally opulent in appearance was in shambles.  Clothes were scattered everywhere.  Dresser drawers partially opened, contents tossed about as if someone was desperately searching for something. 

 

“Ro, you found the Cajun?”  Wolverine shouted, walking into the room.  His unlit cigar almost fell from his mouth when he noticed the room for the first time.  “Looks like a tornado came through here.”  He looked at the weather goddess with a gleam in his eye.  “Cajun piss you off?”

 

“I find no humor in this, Logan.”  Storm picked up several articles of clothing from the floor and placed them on the bed.  “Something is wrong with Remy,” she stated, straightening the drawers before closing them.  “I do not know what to do or how to help him.  When I tried last night, he made up a pathetic excuse and disappeared.  I fear he and Scott will come to blows if something is not done.”

 

“You want me to talk to him?”

 

“That would not be a good idea,” Storm answered somberly.  “Remy would know, therefore violating the trust he has in me.  I would however appreciate your company in helping me locate him.  Shall we begin upstairs?  Remy tends to occupy my loft whenever something bothers him.”

 

“Whatever,” Wolverine muttered, reluctantly following her up to the loft apartment.  He had no clue what had gotten into LeBeau lately, but Gambit’s odd behavior was beginning to worry him.  Logan prided himself on keeping an irregular routine.  It kept his enemies off balance and gave him the luxury to watch others undetected. 

 

He had noticed LeBeau’s sleeping and eating habits had become erratic, and the uncharacteristic mood swings raised more than just a few red flags.  If what he suspected had happened, Ororo had good reason to worry.  As a man harboring a few dark secrets himself, Logan had no intention of revealing what he had overheard between Sinister and Gambit.  However, if Gambit’s health deteriorated any further he would have no choice but to confront the Cajun with what he knew.

 

While Storm searched the loft for the missing Cajun, Logan moved to the balcony to enjoy his cigar.  He sniffed the night air wanting to breathe in the freshly cleansed air from the thunderstorm.  However another scent, recently created stopped him cold.    

 

“Ro, he was here.”  He sniffed the air again reaffirming the scent was the Cajun’s.  “Gambit came out here, climbed down and headed west.”  Logan looked across the grounds and spotted Bishop in the distance.  “Judgin’ from LeBeau’s fading scent, Bishop would have been out of position to see him leave from this direction.”

 

“Where could he have gone?”  Storm stared towards the tree line.  “Nothing is there but woods.  Perhaps Remy wanted some time to himself?”

 

Wolverine believed their missing teammate had another motive behind his sudden disappearance.  Before he could voice his opinion, a metallic object discarded in the grass caught his attention.  Curious, he jumped over the railing and retrieved the mysterious object. 

 

“Logan?”  Storm called, pointing at the object in his hand.  “What have you found?” 

 

“Looks like a cylinder,” he answered, shaking it against his ear.  “Sounds empty,” he commented before uncorking it.  He sniffed inside it several times but the scent was unfamiliar to him.

 

“Well?”

 

“Step back, darlin’,” he warned, waiting until she retreated a few steps before leaping back onto the balcony.  He showed her the silver cylinder.  “Can’t pinpoint it, Ro.  Perhaps Blue might have an idea what’s in this stuff.”

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Chapter Three