I do not own the x-men

If I did Gambit would be with someone way better than Rouge

You Have Reached

Scott scowled darkly at the telephone. He couldn't believe they were doing this, contacting a professional criminal for help. It was degrading. "Are you sure this is a good idea professor?" he asked.

Xavier nodded. "My contacts all agree. This Diablo Blanc has an excellent reputation." He had been unable to get as much information as he wanted about the man himself, but that could be remedied in the future. For now, the only thing that mattered was the job itself. The X-Men needed those plans.

"We've never needed to consort with thieves before," Cyclops pointed out mulishly.

Logan snorted at that, lighting up a cigar, uncaring of the professor's look of disapproval. "Before we had Gambit." Even months after the fact, it didn't sit well with him what the others had done. The kid had deserved better. He hadn't even been able to find the Cajun's body for a proper burial.

Scott looked scandalized, turning to stare at Xavier. "Professor? You didn't really?" He couldn't have.

The older man merely crossed his fingers together in front of him. It was answer enough.

At this, Cyclops sagged, backing off as the number was dialed. He couldn't believe the professor had let Gambit steal for them.

Elsewhere, another person scowled as he noted the source of his most recent call. It was a place he knew well. For a moment, the mutant known as Gambit was tempted not to answer. Then, he had a better idea.

"Bon soir," a cheerful and incredibly familiar voice came through the speakers. "You have reached the rovin' offices of Dead Man Walking Incorporated. If you know the extension of the party you wish to reach, please enter it now."

The small group stared at the phone as though it had suddenly acquired two heads. Though Logan couldn't stop the craggy grin that made its way up onto his face. Remy was alive.

The message continued. "If you are callin' to confirm a delivery, please press one now. If you wish to set up an appointment, press two. If you want to go to hell, press three."

"Oops," Gambit drawled, abandoning his telephone operator persona. "I done seemed to have hit dat key myself, all accidental like. Je suis tres desolee." In truth, he didn't sound sorry at all.

"Remy," Xavier murmured. "You," his voice trailed off. He wasn't quite sure what to say. "Why didn't you come home?"

The Cajun snorted. "You behind the times homme. Gambit ain't got no home."

"That isn't true," the professor stated to say, only to be interrupted.

"Ah oui," Remy sharp voice cut the others to the quick. "Jus' come on back and all be forgiven. What be a bit of attempted murder 'tween friends." There was a brief pause. "I ain't buying, so you can just stop staring at the phone like it be a pup that done peed on your favorite pair of shoes."

Xavier cleared his throat. They could speak more about this later. He changed the subject. "So about the job?" he inquired.

"Sorry mon professor, but dis poor boy can only please one person a day. Today ain't your day." There was a ghost of a laugh. "Tomorrow don't look all dat great neither." Then Remy hung up, leaving the X-Men listening to nothing but the dial tone.

Never really have understood why Gambit went back

I wouldn't have

And to those wondering when I am going to stop playing around and write a multi-chapter Remy centered story. It is coming, I swear. It just needs to make the transition from my mind to paper. For now, hope you enjoyed this and please review.