Summary: Born with a visible mutation, Remy's biological parents disowned him. My version of the events that made Remy become Gambit.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Marvel universe, characters, ideas or any recognizable plot lines. This story was written for the non-profit pleasure of fans, myself included.

6,868 words

Chapter One

It had been a long night. Full of cranky would-be fathers, over stressed, pregnant women, and squalling newborns. The sharp smell of ammonia clashed in her nostrils with the warm, sticky smell of sweat and blood. She knew working the night shifts were necessary; it was the only way to move up in the nursing staff. But it was tiring. Even though she had been doing it for three months, her body still did was not used to the nocturnal schedule. The pounding headache behind her eyes protested the cries of the maternity ward. But there was no time to seek out the needed Advil from the med cabinet; she was needed in room 318.

She hurried down the hallway, her nurse scrubs swishing slightly. The other nurses on duty brushed passed her in a blur, too intent on their own work to smile in passing. Not that she bothered to smile either. Kathy had been looking forward to going home to her apartment and taking a much need shower. Now, she had been called in to assist in another delivery. The woman in 318 went into labor earlier that night, and now, hours later, it appeared she was ready to give birth. Kathy had been called to assist Dr. Hunst and the presiding nurse due to staff shortages. That meant at least another two hours of work. Sure, she'd get overtime, but at the moment, she just wanted that shower.

The door swung open, revealing the pain lined face of patient. What was her name again? Mrs. Ferrie? Not that it really mattered. She was the same as the others, some middle class woman insistent on having a natural birth. Her husband was right next to her, holding her hand. He looked up at Kathy expectantly, his face pale and tense from the long hours of labor. She hoped he wouldn't pass out during the birth. It was hard enough dealing with one hysterical woman without having to worry about a squeamish husband.

"Kathy, could you take over here?" Fran, the presiding nurse asked.

Perfect. Just what she needed. The older woman seemed was quite possibly the most ill-tempered nurse Kathy had ever encountered. A nurse for the money and job security, the woman had no wish to help anyone. The squat, sever featured woman was currently on the other side of Mrs. Ferrie, wiping the woman's sweating brow with a cool cloth, acting as mental support. It was the New Orleans hospital policy to have a nurse acting as coach for mothers in labor. Kathy tightened her jaw.

"Of course." She hurried over, taking Fran's place. Great. Not only did she have to come preside over a birthing so close to the end of her shift, but instead of doing any real work, she was to be 'mental support'. Stupid fat middle class cows. Why on earth did they insist on 'natural' births? It was the damn mutant scare. All the conservative middle class felt that too much medical technology was the cause of mutated children. So they avoided the help, lest they be plagued. Stupid. There was no proof for the theory at all, but when had they ever needed proof for their beliefs? The number of natural births in Louisiana had drastically increased, as had the number of Kathy's headaches.

Grudgingly, Kathy took up her post, her own hand grasping the woman's sweaty palm. Mrs. Ferrie had delicate hands, she could feel the fine bones beneath the slick sweat and skin. Her nails were perfectly manicured. And painful. The woman's vice-like grip was pushing her nails into Kathy's hand. With a grimace, Kathy turned her attention to the Mrs. Ferrie's face.

"Shh…shhh…deep breaths, Mrs. Ferrie. Calm, deep breaths. Shh…" Kathy wasn't sure the woman actually understood what she was saying, but the soft murmurs did seem to calm her some. She turned her light brown eyes to Kathy, glistening with tears. She seemed to seek strength from Kathy. It was intense. Those eyes refused to look away.

"I'm going to have a beautiful baby. Beautiful," she said fervently.

Kathy just smiled. Newborns were hideous. Ugly, wrinkled things, wet and covered in blood and gore from the birth. She just smiled.

"You're doing just fine, Mrs. Ferrie. Just fine." She reached out, brushing her sweat soaked hair out of her face. Didn't want those brown strands getting into her eyes.

"How much longer, Doctor?"

Kathy turned to face Mr. Ferrie. He looked pale, his auburn hair carefully combed and parted. It seemed funnily out of place. His hair so well cared for, his wife screaming and sweating in the bed, her own hair a mess of tangles. So stiff too. His hands clamped behind his back. Stiff, and obviously uncomfortable. She really hoped he wouldn't pass out.

"I really can't say for sure, but it should be soon now, Mr. Ferrie." Dr. Hunst replied, his graying head situated at the other end of the bed.

---

Two hours passed. Two hours of sweat, gouging nails, and the inescapable smell of all of it. The blood, the sweat, and other bodily fluids. The mother was farther from birth than originally thought when Kathy had been called in. The shrill screams shot pain through Kathy's head. However, it finally looked like it was nearly over.

"Just a little more, Mrs. Ferrie, one more push!" Dr. Hunst called.

With one more grunt of pain, the woman's entire body tensed, her eyes squeezed shut. Kathy thought she would lose all circulation to her fingers; the woman grasped her hand so hard. But if it meant this would be over with, she wouldn't complain. With the effort, the infant slid free. Fran and Dr. Hunst methodically cut the umbilical cord, and proceeded with cleaning up the infant will making preliminary checks on its health. The usual bustle surrounding the birth, completely professional and routine. Just one more life entered into a world of billions.

"You did great, Julie," Mr. Ferrie soothed as he pushed back his wife's sweaty bangs, steadfastly keeping his gaze away from her still spread legs and the bloody sheets. Most of the tension from earlier seemed to have drained away, leaving a caring husband leaning over his precious wife.

On the other side, Kathy also soothed words of success into Julie Ferrie's ear. She was exhausted, but she couldn't help but smile slightly. This is why she wanted to be a nurse. Why she wanted to work in the maternity ward. Moments like this. It didn't seem to matter that she did this many times in a day, that babies being born was really quite common. She still loved moments like these. This moment.

A moment that seemed to last longer than usual. Much longer. Kathy tried not to look worried. Instead, she continued to congratulate the couple. Time ticked past, and still Dr. Hunst made no move to approach the couple. Normally, he tried to show the tired couples their new child as soon as possible. Kathy bit her lower lip.

"Why's it taking so long?" Mrs. Ferrie asked, worry coloring her voice. Her cooling face was turned to Kathy, questioning, fine lines beginning to etch into her brow again.

"I'm sure our baby's fine. The doctor just wants to make sure of it," Mr. Ferrie soothed, not quite keeping his own worry from his voice. Julie turned and smiled back up at her husband, completely trusting and sure he was right.

Kathy wasn't so sure. Why was the infant so quiet? After taking great gulps of air, the infants generally screamed horribly. Not that she was complaining. Her pounding head certainly appreciated the reprieve. But why hadn't Dr. Hunst brought the child over to the parents yet? He normally tried to stave off new parents' anxiety by showing them their newborn as soon as possible.

"Congratulations, you have a baby boy," the doctor said, his voice stiff, back still turned away from the new parents. Apparently he had heard some of the conversation, though his tone could hardly be said to be reassuring. Still, he did not bring the child over, leaving the couple to their own quiet conversation.

"Did you hear that? A boy, we have a baby boy," Mr. Ferrie said, his face beaming, his auburn hair still stubbornly ordered. Conventional. This couple seemed to radiate the sense of being the perfect middle-class family.

Kathy, patted the woman's shoulder, and walked over to join Fran and Dr. Hunst. The couple was very much involved in themselves. They wouldn't miss her presence. She had been unnerved by the doctor's tone. Something was wrong. The birth must not have gone perfectly. She approached the two other staff members, both the tall doctor and the squat Fran seemed tense.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she whispered, leaning over to peer at the infant in the temporary crib.

"Well, the child seems healthy enough," the doctor said coolly, his face still studiously avoiding the parents. His own voice was hushed, keeping the conversation private. Kathy looked over at him. She had assisted him in many births before and had never seen his face so pale. Not even when he'd had to report a stillbirth to a couple.

"Healthy? I hardly think that's important at this point," Fran hissed. Her older, rather sour face wrinkled in disgust. "What does it matter? It's a mutant. Better if it were weak and dying." Kathy whipped her head to peer back at the newborn, her face bearing an expression of shock. A mutant? No, surely not…

"It's not for us to make such judgments," Dr. Hunst replied sharply. "Go prepare a space for him in the nursery." His own demeanor straightened and he glared at the older woman. His very stance seemed to radiate his suppressed anger. Kathy sharply drew a breath. That was new as well. Dr. Hunst never got angry.

Fran left, scowling. Kathy watched the woman leave, watched the door snap closed. Dazed, she turned to look at the sleeping infant. Like so many others she'd seen. A wisp of hair, red hair like his father's, though his was unruly. His skin was still reddened from the birth. How? How was it possible? She thought mutants didn't manifest until near puberty.

"How do you know?" Kathy whispered, leaning over the infant in his temporary crib. He was wrapped in a white blanket, his eyes and mouth closed, still eerily silent.

With out a reply, Dr. Hunst reached over, prying the infant's left eye open. Kathy managed not to gasp aloud, but couldn't prevent the sharp intake of breath. The child had the eyes of a devil. Pitch blackness interrupted only by a glowing red pupil. There could be no mistake. He was definitely a mutant.

"What will you tell the parents?" Her temple throbbed, her pulse echoing her concern.

"What can I tell them? We'll just have to hope for the best." Jaw clenched, he gathered the child in his arms, and slowly carried him over to the blissfully unaware parents. Each step on the white tiles, to the white bed, surrounded by white walls. Only interrupted by red. The red of the blood, the red of the father's and infant's hair, the red of the child's closed eyes. Glowing eyes. Kathy couldn't get them out of her head. And she thought the mother's look was intense.

"We haven't decided on a name yet. We didn't know if it was a boy or girl. Wanted to be surprised, you know? See what name fits him after awhile," the mother rambled, exhaustion still etched on her tired face. She was smiling, a happy, giddy, blissfully unaware smile.

"Congratulations," was all Dr. Hunst managed to mumble as he handed the infant over to the father. The new dad cradle the baby boy, holding him out to present him to his wife. He leaned over Julie, his auburn so rigid.

"Look at our beautiful new son," he said, his face beaming. Julie straightened on the bed, eagerly holding out her arms for the child. Taking him carefully, she gazed down adoringly on his tiny face. It didn't matter that the child was as ugly as any other newborn. She thought he was perfect.

"I think we'll call him…"

Kathy bit her lip, waiting for Julie's reaction. The infant had opened his eyes, and was gazing right back up at his mother. Had opened his red, glowing, mutated eyes. The seconds seemed endless. The child giggled softly, a smile on his face, eyes still fixed on his mother.

"FREAK!" Julie recoiled, holding the infant as far from her breasts as possible. The child stilled instantly. Kathy trembled.

"Now, Mrs. Ferrie, there's no need. Your child is healthy. That is what should matter. And mutants can - ," but Dr. Hunst's words were cut off by Julie's screams.

"Get it away from me! That is not my child!" She cried as she dropped the infant on the bed. Not so much as dropped as violently tossed. Kathy was horrified. All she could see was the fragile newborn colliding roughly with the bed.

Kathy hurried over to pick him up, fearing the hysterical mother would do her child serious injury. She was flailing in the bed, sitting up, despite her husband trying to keep her down. Her face was pale, drained of all color, as was her husband's. She seemed to jerk in horror. Kathy briskly picked the infant, cradling him to her and checking for injuries.

"What did you do? Why is it, how is it here? How did this happen?" Mr. Ferrie demanded, glaring at the doctor as if it was his fault. He was still holding his wife down on the bed as she continued to shriek profanities.

"Now, see here. Mutations are a natural part of adaptation and survival of species." Dr. Hunst's gray eyes looked a bit harder, a bit colder.

"Natural?! There's nothing natural about that!" Mrs. Ferrie screamed, her face once again becoming flushed, her hair wildly matted about her face, and her eyes flashing. She was not a caring mother, a refined middle-class woman with manicured nails. She was an animal, rabid with rage. Mr. Ferrie seemed equally upset, however in a drastically different way from his wife. His jaw set firmly, fists clenched at his side, completely still, taunt with repressed rage. Like a well groomed executioner.

"Kathy, would you please take the child to the nursery?" Dr. Hunst requested, his gazing never leaving the Ferries. Kathy nodded, and hurried out of the room, anxious to leave. She couldn't get out the image of an enraged mother throwing her own child. It unnerved her how quickly things had disintegrated. As she walked down the hall, she could still here the yells of the upset couple. The red eyed child was still silent. Quiet, calm. The perfect baby.

---

She finished cleaning the babe, dressing him in a white gown, and put him in a crib in the nursery, away from the other children and the window. She didn't want other parents and families gazing at their newborn to catch a glimpse of his red on black eyes. Uncertain, Kathy went about the nursery, doing odd jobs, even though her shift technically ended hours ago. Doing normal things, the routine had calmed her greatly, but she couldn't leave.

Dr. Hunst hadn't yet returned from room 318.

She was folding the freshly laundered blankets when she heard the door open. Thinking it was Dr. Hunst, she turned around quickly. But it was Fran. The cranky woman stopped, frozen by the door when she saw Kathy standing there, still holding a blanket.

"Why are you still here?" She narrowed her gaze, glaring at Kathy. Kathy scrunched the blanket in her hands and moved to hide it behind her back like a guilty child caught staying up late.

"I…I just thought I'd take care of a few little jobs. You know, I just keep meaning to do them, but keep putting it off. Just thought…"

"You're waiting for Dr. Hunst, aren't you? Don't see why you care. Mutant is none of your concern." The woman huffed, letting the door close behind her. Trapping Kathy in with her.

"Ah was just curious," Kathy mumbled, slipping out of her carefully controlled speech and into her accent. Raised in the French Quarter, Kathy had worked hard in college to rid herself of the accent which singled her out. Now it only emerged when she was nervous. The squat woman moved to join her near the infant's crib. She scowled down at the babe, her flat nose crinkling in disgust.

"Yes, well. Damn thing probably will become a State ward. Meaning my tax dollars will go to feed it. They're just a plague on hard workers like me," Fran mumbled. Shooting one last glare at the child, she moved away to make her usual check on the infants in the nursery. Kathy went back to her folding, watching Fran go about her task from the corner of her eye. She noticed Fran didn't bother checking the mutant boy's stats. When the last one was done, and the chart clunked heavily in place on the side of the crib, Fran left, leaving Kathy alone in the nursery once more, surrounded by the carefully lined cribs of infants. She sighed in relief.

Looking over her shoulder to make sure Fran was gone, Kathy walked over and checked the little boy's stats herself. He was sleeping, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath.

"It's okay, yah know. It's not like it's your fault," she whispered to the infant. "I think you're pretty cute mahself. Yah'll do jus' fine." She methodically checked his heart rate, the small I.V. pumping nourishment into his veins, marking his chart on the attached clipboard.

The door creaked behind her, making her jump and turn. The clipboard clunked heavily on the floor. Dr. Hunst came in, looking a bit paler than usual, rubbing a hand across the faint stubble shadowing his face. He worked the kinks out of his neck, rolling his head side to side, and glanced at Kathy. He sighed.

"Well?" Kathy asked, her hands clutched together, turning parts of her skin white with the pressure.

"I'm afraid…well, they just couldn't be made to see…" He sighed again. His entire body had lost his usual straightness, the air of confident authority. Now he simply looked like a tired old man. Kathy didn't like the change. He walked to stand next to her, placing his hand on the side of the glass crib, he gazed at the tiny infant. Kathy stooped, picking up the clipboard and placing it in the slot on the side of the crib. Biting her lip, she stood beside him, unsure of what to do next. What do you say when a family has chosen to disown their newborn child?

"They won't have him. A lawyer is coming tomorrow so they can sign off their rights as parents. He'll be a ward of the state." Dr. Hunst didn't look at Kathy, checking the infant's stats himself.

Kathy stilled, watching the measured calm of Dr. Hunst's hands. His large fingers pressing lightly on the infant's pale wrist as his eyes fixed on his watch, timing the pulse. A little old fashioned and unnecessary, but Kathy wouldn't say anything about it. It was easier to do something.

"What happens then?" Kathy whispered, never looking him in the face, just watching his hands still and then slowly retract.

"I don't know. I guess, a state worker will come to check on him, but until they find a place for him…I guess he'll stay here."

"What?" Kathy frowned, her gaze moving to her shoes. 'Surely, they'll put him in a foster home. Or at least an orphanage."

He looked over at her, and Kathy looked up to face him. His eyes were dull, dark circles shadowed the underside.

"It's not so simple. It's hard to even find orphanages that will take a mutant, let alone foster parents. They don't want them disrupting their lives or the lives of their charges."

His gaze flicked back to the infant. Kathy left it at that. They went back to simply watching the sleeping child, the nursery oddly quiet as all the infants slept. The baby boy rolled his head, the auburn tuft rubbing against the white sheet. He made a mewling sound in his sleep.

Kathy reached down to smooth the wisp of hair of the abandoned infant.

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