Disclaimer: Any characters previously mentioned in a Marvel Comic, I do not own. Marvel does. I'm not making money off of this.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Part One

"Uh, Remy? Could we talk to you for a minute?" Jean asked hesitantly.

"What I do now?" Gambit asked dryly, not bothering to look up from his early morning repair work on his Harley. The night before he'd noticed an oil leak and wanted to get a jump on it.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

This did cause Remy to look up, eyebrow raised in question. Jean and her husband Scott Summers were standing in the entrance to the garage, looking extremely uncomfortable. He remained in his kneeling position, one hand on the seat of the bike.

"Talk den."

"…Well, we've been wrestling with how to approach you with this since we got home last night. You know we spent the day at my parents' house."

Remy nodded, but had no clue where this was going.

"Well… um…" Jean looked to Scott for help.

"Well, you see… Jean's niece was working on a project for school. It was on the rate of missing children in the tri-state for around the past thirty years. She was using Internet police reports."

"Uh-huh." Still no clue.

"Generally," Jean continued. "She just had to study the numbers. But whenever there was a case that seemed… unusual, ----- would pull it up for more detail."

Jean sighed and looked at Cyclops again. "On one of these inquiries, she pulled up this…"

She stepped forward unfolding a piece of paper she had been holding. Jean handed it to Remy.

He stood up as he let his eyes run over the piece of paper. Most of it was a standard missing child report; however, it only took him a moment to find what was making Scott and Jean so uncomfortable.

The file was for a baby reported missing just over twenty-five years earlier. Disappeared from the hospital when he was two days old. Seven pounds three ounces… red on black eyes. It was reported he had been kidnapped from a New Jersey hospital nursery in the middle of the night. The parents were at first suspect, but that inquiry was quickly dropped.

Remy quietly looked down at the form for several minutes. Scott and Jean were beginning to think that he had forgotten them, when he finally spoke.

"Uh, 'preciate you bringin' me dis… but it ain't me."

"How can you be so sure? Twenty-five years ago… the eyes…"

"An' in Jersey."

"Still…"

"An' dere's other tings. Jus' trus' me. It ain't me. …But t'anks jus' the same."

Scott nodded and he and Jean left.

Remy looked back down at the paper in his hand.

'It ain't me.'

* * * * *

"Thank you, Scott." Ororo took the phone from him.

"Hello?"

"…"

"Yes, of-of course. Tomorrow?"

"…"

"Eight thirty will be fine."

"…"

"Thank you. Good-bye."

"Problem darlin'?"

"…No, nothing of consequence, Logan. A personal matter."

"Mmm. You know ya got yer backup if ya need it."

"Always my friend."

Dr. Henry McCoy entered the morning scene. "Morning salutations to you all."

"Hank—Buddy—It's too early for the dictionary." Bobby hung his head wearily over his plate, a cup of coffee glued to his hand.

"Well, serves you right for staying out all night with Gambit. Now pass me a stack of them flap jacks."

"Stack?"

"Stack."

"Here, Hank. You may have mine."

"You haven't touched it."

"I am not hungry." Ororo slid her plate over to the doctor.

"Well, if you are certain…"

"Like he wasn't gonna take them."

"I am not so food obsessed that I would take a meal out of the mouth of a teammate. And I strongly suggest you lay off the late night partying for a while. You become quite the little bitch the morning after."

Bobby stuck out his tongue.

"Ya know Hank, I don't think I've ever heard you swear before."

"Rogue, I am a vast ocean of unexpected surprises."

"Well, the vast part…"

"That's three Drake. You've reached your limit. One more and I cannot be held responsible for my actions."

'Promises, promises.' Bobby sipped his coffee.

* * * * *

It was a fitful sleep. He tossed and turned fighting an invisible enemy. It was very uncharacteristic for him, who was known to be able to curl up almost anywhere for a quick catnap.

"Remy. Remy wake up." Ororo shook his shoulder.

"Huh? Wha--? Oh, s'you Stormy." Remy ran a hand through his hair and sat up on his elbows. He looked down at himself all tangled up in his sheets, sighed and dropped back down into his pillow.

"What time is it?"

She sat down on the bed next to him. "Still early. It is five thirty. I was going downstairs when I heard you. You usually sleep so quietly that I had to see what was wrong."

He patted Ororo's hand, which was resting on his arm.

"I'm okay Stormy. Don' worry 'bout me."

"No you most certainly are not okay. You cannot fool me Remy Le Beau." She said with a smile. "I know your demeanor too well. This has something to do with that information Scott and Jean brought you, does it not?"

Remy exhaled heavily, staring up at the ceiling.

"I, uh... Don' know what t't'ink."

"You seemed pretty sure it was not you when you told me about it last night. Has something changed your—your m—mind?"

"Stormy?"

"N-nothing. A headache. What made you so certain in the first place?"

"My own mind." Remy placed an arm over his eyes. "I made up my mind a long time ago 'bout my parents. Dey didn' want me. If dey wanted me, dey would'a kept me. Dey wouldn't a'… abandoned me."

"What? Remy what are you talking about?"

"…"

"Remy?"

He pulled himself into a seated position.

"…Never told you dis, Stormy. Never told no one but m'pere." [Pere: Fr: father]

He looked at her.

"You know how I tol' you dat Jean Luc took me in and adopt me when I was jus' a pup. Dat I was jus' a street rag runnin' around."

Ororo nodded.

"Well… I weren't completely on my own out dere. I hung out wit dis crew… a man named Fagan was in charge. Sorta like your Achmed in a way, I suppose. 'Cept, in Fagan' mob, dere weren't no support. Every kid for 'imself. He who took d'most got d'most."

He sighed.

"My first memories—ever, were bein' wit Fagan's mob. He told me dat he found me when I was a baby. Out in a back ally somewhere, mixed up wit de garbage."

"Goddess, Remy…"

"So ya see, I didn' 'xactly grow up wit d'idea dat my real folks would gone to de trouble to make out a police report on me."

"But…"

"…But, dere was another t'ing in dat print up Jean give me. Somethin' dey wouldn't have known about."

"What?"

Remy reached over and opened the drawer of his night table. He pulled out the printout Jean had given him earlier and handed it to Ororo. She adjusted her position so that the light from the lamp she had turned on when she came in would shine on it. She let her eyes run over the paper for a moment and slowly began shaking her head.

"I do not see… Oh… Your birthmark."

Among the usual descriptions of eye and hair colour, there was also a mention of a small birthmark behind the child's left ear. Something Scott and Jean would not have known about. Ororo however had given Remy several haircuts and trims over the years, as he trusted few people enough to hold a pair of sharp scissors near his head. She did know about it.

"The eyes. The mark. …That is some coincidence."

"Dat's what I was t'inkin'.

"What are you going to do?"

"Don't know. Wish I did."

* * * * *

8:35am

"Of course I do have my own doctor. It is just that he is also a close friend of mine. I did not wish to worry him unnecessarily—if this turns—turned out to be nothing."

"Yes. Dr. Henry McCoy. I am a great admirer of his research… Which may or may not benefit what I am about to say."

Ororo folded her hands in her lap, crossing her legs. Her face devoid of emotion, looked across the large desk towards Dr. Martin.

"Go on."

The doctor nodded and opened the file on his desk.

"The last battery of test we ran, came back positive."

"…I see."

"I'm afraid there's more. Your mutant DNA has, well, mutated your condition. It is proceeding at an extremely higher rate than expected."

"My constant fatigue, loss of appetite, loss of coordination and concentration…"

"Are all results of this rapid progression."

Ororo took a deep breath.

"…How long?"

"If we start you on treatments right away…"

"You would only be delaying the inevitable. I prefer to live by quality of life, not quantity."

"Well, as I was suggesting earlier, perhaps Dr. McCoy…"

"Has been doing absolutely no research on this topic. The majority of his time is spent studying the Legacy Virus. Besides, I checked his databank when I first suspected. There is nothing."

"I see."

"How long…?"

* * * * *

"Storm! Move it!"

With a running start, Wolverine pulled Ororo out of the air, an instant before a missile crossed the very spot she had been floating in. The both went crashing to the floor of the Danger Room. The simulation ended.

"Jeez, lady! Where's yer head today? With them winds ya had goin' ya should known it was comin' at ya!"

Wolverine, who had landed on Ororo's back, rolled off her and stood up. She didn't. She wasn't moving.

"Ro?" He knelt back down and slowly rolled her over, as the others present gathered around.

"Is she breathin'?" Rogue said, also kneeling down.

A moment later, Storm began violently coughing. Logan helped pull her up. "I think I just knocked the wind outta her."

Storm brought her hand up to her face. "I am sorry. I allowed myself to become distracted. Thank you, Logan."

"Maybe we should take her to the med lab, just in case."

"No! No, that will not be necessary. I think perhaps I should just return to my loft and rest. Get my head together."

"I'll take her."

She stood up. "That will not be necessary Jean, I can still find my own way." She left.

"Am Ah the only one round here who thinks she's been actin' weird lately?"

"If somethin's up, she'll let us know when she's ready."

* * * * *

"So dat's it." Remy finished. Jean Luc Le Beau walked slowly about the room eyes trained on the paper in his hand. His other hand stroked his moustache thoughtfully.

The two men were talking in Jean Luc's office in the Big Easy. Remy had taken a mini-jet down to Louisiana when he finally managed to role himself out of bed after his talk with Storm.

"So, I figure I find out where Fagan be hidin' himself these days and ask him what's up."

The senior Le Beau dropped his head.

"…Dere's… dere's no need for dat Remy."

"…Wha—? What you talkin' 'bout Pere?"

"Fagan… Fagan didn' find you in no ally Remy."

Gambit stood up from his chair. "What you talkin' 'bout Pere? How you know dat?"

Jean Luc turned around to face Remy.

"I gave you to Fagan."

"Wha—"

"You were a—gift. To the Antiquary. He wanted you for his own, believing you were special among children. An angel's smile with the devil's eyes. But I couldn' stand d'idea of a child… you growin' up in the Velvet Ministry wit dat vile creature."

Remy unknowingingly flopped back down into his chair.

The Velvet Ministry. The Thieves and Assassins weren't the only guilds running around the New Orleans. The Velvet Ministry was one neither of the aforementioned groups would mess with. It's leader, The Antiquary was a man of incredible power. All other Guilds and Clans paid homage and tribute to him to try to win his favor and kindness.

"…So… let me get dis straight. You kidnap me from d'Antiquary, cause you don' want me to be near dat man. So why you didn' just take me in right den?"

"When d'Antiquary found out you were missing, I would'a been d'first one he suspected. Fagan owed me one. Actually, he owe me a lot, so I get him to look after you. Didn't know a few years later, dat dis little street rat would try t'steal my wallet, and end up wormin' his way inta my heart."

Remy shook his head. "Why would he'a suspect you? Dere's lot's o clans who follow him. Why you?"

Jean Luc swallowed with difficulty.

"'Cause I'm d'one dat gave you to him."

Remy sat in stunned silence for several minutes.

When he finally spoke, it was as if he were more talking to himself than his father.

"You give me to D'Antiquary as a gift. Den you decide you don' like d'idea of d'man raising me, so you kidnap me from him and give me to Fagan. Den you take me outta Fagan's mob and adopt me." He looked up. "I missin' anythin' so far?"

"Didn' want to give you to d'Antiquary in d'first place, but he wanted a baby boy. An' you know, what he wants, he gets. Every guild looked for a child, cause no one wanted t'give up dere own. Whoever found the right one hoped t'be favored if their foundling was chos—."

He stopped himself short seeing Remy's face. Remy narrowed his eyes.

"Where I come from, Pere. Where'd you really get me?"

"…Out of a hospital room in New Jersey."

"…"

"My cousin Marcus and some of our brood were up by dat way when d'call went out. We figured d'wider d'search, d'better out chance of findin' dat special child… You. D'last name on d'crib was French. Dat's what caught his attention. Den you opened dem eyes an'…"

Gambit stared up at Jean Luc completely dumfounded.

After a few minutes he stood up, shaking his head. It felt as though he were walking in a haze.

Jean Luc placed a hand on his arm.

"Son…"

Remy violently shook it off.

"Don't!" He yelled without looking at him. "Don't you touch me."

Still in his haze, Remy marched out the room, out of the house and didn't look back.

* * * * *

"Anyone seen Remy? Ah've been lookin' for him everywhere? Where is he?"

"Where do ya think?" Bobby answered. "He's at his second home."

"At this hour? By himself?" Rogue asked.

"Well, Storm and Logan went to get him a little while ago."

Rogue looked out the window at the quietly falling snow.

"He ain't dealin' with this well."

"Why? Just cause he moved into the bottom of a liquor bottle—"

"This ain't funny Drake! What if you found out you're past wasn't really your past and your folks weren't really who you thought they were."

Bobby looked over the top of the sports page with a raised eyebrow.

"…Well, okay. Maybe your family ain't the best example."

"To say the least." He muttered. "Do you even know the whole story? I mean, has he actually talked to you? I've just been piecing it together since he came back from The Big E."

"N-no. He hasn't talked to me. I think Storm knows and maybe Wolverine."

"And Scott and Jean are the ones who started this ball rolling."

"And the Prof.'s gotta know by know."

"So how'd we get thrown out of the loop? Well, I know why I am, but—"

"Don't even think about going there, Bobby."

* * * * *

A half-hour later, Storm shoved Remy through the door of his bedroom. He flopped down on the edge of his bed.

"This is it, Remy. No more drinking. Not like that."

"Why shouldn't I? You think of a better time t'drink?"

"Remy…"

He started laughing. "Ironic ain't it. Me, master t'ief dat I am, was stolen right after I was born. Twice, actually. Three times if you count Jean Luc takin' me back from Fagan."

"Remy…"

"An' ya know what else is funny, t'ieves ain't supposed to put value on t'ings right. We pass t'ings around, only carin' 'bout d'value, what it can get us. An here d'guilds are, passin' me round like some goods from a heist!"

His pitiful laughter was muffled as he placed his face in his hands.

"Remy…"

"I can't take dis!" He yelled as he stood up suddenly and threw a nearby lamp at the wall. It shattered loudly.

"Remy," Ororo tried again calmly. "Why do you not do something about it instead of feeling sorry for yourself?"

After the smash, Gambit had gone over and was leaning forward against a wall, his forehead resting on his arm. He looked up and Ororo could see that if he were not already so emotionally drained by all of this, he would be crying. He was slightly shaking.

"Like what, Stormy." He asked wearily. His eyes looked almost pleading behind their tiredness.

"Well… Somewhere out there… is a mother who has been looking for her son… for a very long time. Perhaps a father? Maybe some siblings."

"…I… I can't do dat, Stormy."

"Why not?"

"What am I supposed to do? Knock on the door and say, "Hi, mom! You been lookin' for me?""

"Why not?"

"Dey probably t'ink I'm dead."

"And they may think you are still alive."

"Dey moved on wit dere lives."

"And this Christmas, there may be a twenty-five year old stocking still hanging over the fireplace."

"An' if dey don' want a mutant son?"

"They would not have been looking for you on in the first place. That was not a state written report. It was a family written one."

"…"

"Do not decide right now. Sleep on it for a day or so. But stop wallowing in self-pity. If not for your own sake, then for mine. I cannot bare seeing you like this." Her voice cracked slightly at the end of her sentence, causing Remy to wince.

He walked over and hugged Ororo.

"Sorry, Stormy."

"Do not apologize. Just do something about it." Still in the hug, she smacked him in the back of the head. "And do not call me 'Stormy'.

To Be Continued…