Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Bonjour, mes amis…”

Their friend’s sweet honeyed voice rasped as he leaned in the door frame. Logan had a suspicion that he was not leaning, so much as falling. Remy seemed to have his full weight against his shoulder. His eyes seemed a tad darker even than usual.

“Gambit!” Jubilee screamed, making a tiny pink-and-purple explosion with her fingers before running to hug him.

“‘S good to see you, petite,” Gambit said, trying not to wince. The color of his face slowly drained. Logan knew they needed to get him inside.

He was about to step forward and offer Remy his shoulder to lean on, when Nightcrawler appeared by Gambit’s side. He went to hug their friend, then snaked his tail around his waist for support. They began to walk forward. Remy made no effort to hide quite a dramatic limp.

Jubilee clasped her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with Remy, petite. Ol’ Gambit jus’ need a nap and a strong coffee…”

As he said the word, he blanched completely. His eyes rolled back, revealing their pure black, and his knees buckled. Logan dashed over to catch him. He doubted Nightcrawler could have held Remy up on his own.

His teammate felt cold in his arms. Remy’s eyelids fluttered as he regained consciousness. He only remained upright because of Logan and Nightcrawler.

“Jubes, how about ya run down and give Beast a heads up about Cajun here? I think our Gambit could use a look-over from the doctor.”

Jubilee took off, letting off a small array of sparklers as she went. Logan let out a tense laugh. The kid always set off some fireworks when she was nervous.

“‘D you jes’ say Our Gambit, mon ami?” Remy’s mouth turned up, but he was too weak to really smile.

“Ya turn up all pitiful on our doorstep like a stray cat, how d’you expect us to feel?”

“Merci, Logan. Gambit be lyin’ if he say he fit as a fiddle. Maybe got a broken string or two.”

“Not to worry, mein Freund.” Kurt’s voice was soft and soothing. “I’m certain it is nothing Beast cannot mend.”

For once, Remy did not get the last word in. The silence was so uneasy, Logan’s stomach turned. Remy just hung his head as his comrades helped him walk toward the elevator and down to the lab.

Logan thought for a moment how this would be much quicker if he just carried Gambit. Or if Kurt teleported him, for that matter. But Remy was still conscious, and was clearly trying to preserve his dignity as much as possible. He probably felt terrible that Jubilee had seen him in this state.

Downstairs in the lab, Scott and Jean waited alongside Hank and Jubilee. Logan wished for Remy’s sake that Rogue were here. There was nothing like the woman you love for comfort. Likewise, there was nothing like Scott Summers to rip that comfort away.

Logan and Nightcrawler eased Remy onto the examination bed.

“Gambit didn’t know he gettin’ a audience,” he murmured, his eyes barely open.

Of course, Scott spoke up. “We’re just relieved you’re back in one piece. Jean and I aren’t going to stay, we only…”

Jean picked up for him. Logan hated how they operated in sync. “We wanted to tell you how glad we are that you’re home. We know you’re not feeling well, so we’re going to step out, but let us know if you need anything at all.”

“Merci, chère. You know where Rogue at?”

“She’s still at the U.N. with Storm, sweetheart.” Jean carefully removed his facial armor. Remy sighed and closed his eyes, relaxing at her touch.

Logan had to hold back a pang of jealousy. Whatever was going on with Gambit was nothing to be jealous of.

“Tell her to stop by, pay Gambit a call, whenever she get de chance.” His voice was weak. He sounded half-asleep.

“I don’t think we’ll need to tell her, Remy,” Jean replied. She stroked his long hair away from his face, then returned to hold Scott’s hand.

“Now, you just take it easy and listen to whatever Beast says, alright?” Scott said, giving Jean’s hand a squeeze. Seeing Remy like this was unsettling for everyone.

“Jubilee, why don’t you go with them?” Logan added. He knew the kid was anxious, and normally, he would have prioritized her, but right now, it was Remy’s comfort that took precedence.

“Feel better soon, Gambit,” she said, forcing a smile. She created a small cascade of purple and red sparkles, trying to cheer him just a little.

“Merci, petite,” he replied. He smiled, even though he did not even open his eyes to see the fireworks.

With everyone cleared out but Logan, Nightcrawler, and his patient, Hank began to talk.

“Now, tell me what has gotten you in such an unfortunate state, my Acadian friend.” His smile and tone were friendly and soothing.

“Gambit got hit with somethin’, out at dat Trask warehouse. Can’t say jes’ what, but damned if it don’t pack a punch.”

“Indeed,” Beast replied. “We will soon get to the bottom of what is ailing you. Nightcrawler, if you would be so kind as to remove M. LeBeau’s armor?”

Kurt teleported around a few times and in a couple seconds, had all of Gambit’s armor neatly arranged on a table. Remy sighed to have the weight removed.

Hank’s brow furrowed as he scanned Gambit with all those devices Logan never got around to understanding.

“Whatcha see, Blue?” Logan asked. He did not even try to conceal his impatience. Nightcrawler stood quietly on Remy’s opposite side.

“I’m not quite sure yet. Now, Remy, I’m going to need to take a few blood samples.”

It was rare for Hank to address someone simply by their first name. He must have picked up on something bad.

Logan wished he had a cigar to distract himself with. He wondered how Kurt remained so calm. Logan watched Remy’s rapid breathing, the pain and stress on his face.

“Do I have your consent to perform a physical examination, Gambit?”

“Oui, have at it,” Remy said through his teeth.

“Thank you for your help, Logan, Nightcrawler. I will report any findings to Cyclops, and he will communicate them with the team.”

“Not so fast, Doc,” Remy said. He continued hesitantly, “I don’t mind the company, if mes amis don’t mind it theyselves.”

Now everything was completely fucked. Beast was using first names, and Gambit was using the first person.

“Not at all, mein Freund,” Nightcrawler said, petting Remy’s hair the same way everyone else did his own. “We are teammates. That is why we are here.”

“Merci, Kurt.”

“They messed you up pretty bad, eh, Gumbo?”

Suddenly, Gambit looked away. “Logan go on usin’ dat name, he gon’ make Remy start heavin’.”

His face really did have a greenish cast to it. His lips were closed tight.

“Ah, sorry, Rems. The pain that bad?”

“Feel like my organs been turned inside out an’ back again.”

“Which organs in particular, Gambit?” Beast asked.

“Somethin’ in my belly feel wrong.” He drew his hand to his abdomen, guarding what was probably a tender spot.

“I don’t see any blood, Remy— correct me if I’m wrong. Did anything wound you?”

“Maybe didn’t wound me ‘zactly. But they is somethin’ bleedin’. Under my clothes.”

“Might I ask you to undress, please? Down to your underwear, and then put this gown on.”

“‘S a tall ask, ‘m afraid.”

“Would you like a hand, lieber Freund?”

Logan could never get over how gentle Nightcrawler was. No wonder that fuzzy little elf was able to break through even his own adamantium defenses and become his friend.

“Most appreciated, homme. Zis suit give me ‘nough trouble on an ordinary day.”

Logan kept his distance while Kurt helped Remy out of his complicated outfit and into the yellow hospital gown. Sometimes he wished he were better at caring for people. It seemed so effortless when Nightcrawler or Jean did it. Maybe when it came down to it, he really was as stiff and useless as Cyclops. Good in a fight, pointless for anything else.

“We are ready, Hank,” Nightcrawler announced.

Beast abandoned his desk and Logan walked back toward Remy’s bedside, now that he was decent again. He was not prepared for how fragile the Ragin’ Cajun looked in that gown. It seemed wrong to see so much of Remy exposed, his arms and legs sticking out, all bare. Remy still guarded his stomach, his body tense all over.

Beast adjusted his glasses and rolled his stool closer to Gambit.

“Do you mind telling me where you are hurt, Remy?”

“Remy hurt evr’where, homme. Bleedin’s in a bad spot. It up between my legs and on my backside.”

“I see,” Hank said, with soft compassion. “Might I have a look?”

“S’il te plaît.” Gambit groaned and winced as he pulled off his shorts from under the gown and dropped them on the floor.

Nightcrawler disappeared and left the shorts folded with his other clothes on the table. When he reappeared, he was standing next to Logan, closer to Remy’s head and shoulders.

Logan’s skin crawled as Hank examined those oh-so-sensitive areas with his flashlight. Remy was taking it all so calm and so brave. If Logan were the one on the examination bed instead of Remy, he knew his claws would have come out. He would be threatening poor Beast’s life. Logan decided then that Gambit was the very toughest of the X-Men.

“I am so sorry, Remy,” said Hank, gently patting his patient’s shoulder when he was done. “How bad is the pain?”

“From dere or from the rest of it?”

Logan could tell that Gambit was forcing the evenness in his tone. He had to be suffering very badly.

“Let’s begin with just those lesions.”

“I don’ know, homme. Can’t say which’s got me ready to heave, dose dere wounds or whatever goin’ on in my belly.”

“Are you feeling terribly nauseated?” Through it all, Hank maintained a gentle and soothing tone. His demeanor was so disarming, it had to play a part in why Remy remained so calm.

“Gambit let you know if he gon’ lose it.”

Beast nodded sympathetically.

“Tell me about the pain in your abdomen.”

“It hurt all up inside. Feel like Logan stuck me in de guts.”

Logan cringed. He hated the image that flashed in his mind, the loss of control, the unintended damage. He could not stand even the idea of his claws harming his teammate.

“I’m going to run a full scan of your abdomen, Gambit, and perform some blood tests. Now, you say you were hit by something in the warehouse. Could you elaborate on that?”

Remy exhaled through his nose. A thick sheen of sweat covered his forehead and face. The red in his eyes was mostly gone, only the faint smolder like the last embers of a partially extinguished fire.

Nightcrawler found a small washcloth to dab at Remy’s face, as their wounded friend tried to explain what happened.

“Was some typa gas. Set me coughin’ somethin’ bad. T’ought I was alright after dat. Fought my way outta dere. Wasn’t till I was on the way here I felt de rest. Sorry I didn’t learn nothin’ from Trask.”

“You got nothing to apologize for, Cajun,” Logan said, not succeeding in keeping back a growl. It was not fair that Gambit felt like a failure for this.

“Indeed, Logan is correct,” Beast replied. “You made your way home as safely as possible. And perhaps you did learn something from Trask. This weapon you describe does not sound like anything we have encountered before.”

“Gambit happy to help,” he said. His lips looked even paler than before.

Nightcrawler disappeared in a puff. The next second, he stood by Remy’s side with a glass of water. He helped their friend to sit up, while Remy held the glass in both his shaking hands. He drank a few sips, then cleared his throat.

“Merci, bon ami.”

Logan sighed in relief to see a slightly healthier color return to Remy’s face. It was just wrong for him to be all pale.

“Indeed,” Hank said. “It’s time for me to draw these blood samples. All the better that you are hydrated.”

He tied off Gambit’s arm, stuck the needle, and filled five vials. Remy did not move or react at all at the stab.

Once he finished the job and bandaged the puncture wound, Hank swiveled around to look at the computer screen.

“Remy, your temperature and blood pressure are quite low. Do you feel faint?”

Gambit laughed weakly. “If Gambit weren’t lyin’ down, he be on the floor.”

“Cajun fainted just a few minutes ago, right when he got through the door.”

Hank hummed in thought. “Your pulse is very fast as well. Please try to breathe deeply and slowly. I promise you, I will find out what has been done to your body.”

“You gon’ find a way to fix it, oui?” Remy asked. His eyes were closed.

It was not like Gambit to look for those kinds of reassurances. He must have been feeling even lower than Logan realized.

“I will stop at nothing, mon frère,” Beast replied.

Gambit’s face twisted up in pain. “Anyt’ing to help zese wounds meantime?”

Kurt held onto Remy’s hand. Remy grabbed on tighter.

Hank turned around and readjusted his glasses. He inhaled deeply before speaking.

“Gambit, I am afraid those lesions resemble those of a disease called hidradenitis suppurativa.”

“Non, promise ya, Doc, I ain’t been wit’ a lady dat way since Bella Donna. Miss Rogue and me can’t quite do it like dat.”

Remy really was brave. Logan could not imagine being so open about his romances at any point in time. Remy was not ashamed of any messes from his past, and he was not ashamed for his friends to know the status of his current relationship. He was not ashamed that he was scared right now, or that wanted the comfort of his friends. Logan thought that was the bravest part of all.

“Not to worry, M. LeBeau. It is not that type of disease. If only it were, it would make more sense, and be more easily treated. No, hidradenitis suppurativa, or HS, is a disease of autoimmunity. And it’s never before been seen in mutants, to my knowledge.”

“Tell us what it does,” Wolverine cut in. He wished he could have been gentle and calm like Kurt. He only knew how to get information, and he only knew how to get it through aggression. Now watching Gambit suffer only put him further on edge. “What will it do?”

“Nothing particularly dangerous,” Hank said.

Remy sighed, a note of pain in his voice. “Grace à dieu.”

Kurt crossed himself.

“But I would be remiss if I did not tell you that it causes a great deal of suffering. And your case, Remy, appears to be of the late stage.”

“Wha’s dat mean, Doc?” Remy asked.

Logan looked away as tears of stress and pain appeared in Remy’s eyes. He wondered why Gambit wanted him, of all people, to stay, and asked Jean to leave. He was no good at comforting people. His friends’ emotions did nothing but shut him down.

“HS is a progressive disease, Remy. It will heal and scar, then erupt and heal and scar. The lesions will continue to appear, and to form deeper underneath your skin. It will be very painful. There is always the risk of the lesions becoming infected, as well, which is what I suspect may be causing this more widespread inflammation.”

“Gambit don’t got no infection,” he countered, while tears dropped down. “Don’t got no fever. Freezin’ to my bones.”

Hank’s eyes looked a little sad and very kind. “Temperatures can drop when a person is very ill. And right now, Remy, you are very ill.”

Gambit blinked quickly to clear away his tears. He steadied his voice and asked, “Right den, what we gon’ do ‘bout it?”

“First, we are going to get you as comfortable as you can be. There are some topical treatments that might relieve some of the worst inflammation. You would need to apply those to your lesions. Ideally, I would like for you to begin a course of antibiotics, but depending on what was in that weapon, I don’t know what that might do to your system. That is why I needed your blood sample. Now, as I said, HS is a progressive disease. Right now, the skin you showed me looks like that of a human who has suffered from HS for over a decade. But fear not, M. LeBeau. I am certain I can decode the agent that has weaponized your immune system.”

Remy just listened and nodded.

“Now, before I release you,” Beast continued, “please allow me to conduct that scan of your abdomen. Does the pain continue?”

“Oh, it continues, mon ami. Gambit tryin’ not to hurl all over your nice clean floor.”

Again, Remy cleared his throat and sighed. Logan was surprised as he found himself patting, then squeezing Remy lightly on the shoulder. Maybe the good influences of Kurt and Jubilee were gradually rubbing off on him, after all.

“This won’t take but a moment,” Hank reassured, and began to slowly slide a large device hanging on a beam above the exam bed. A ray of yellow light emitted from it, and crossed over Remy’s midsection a few times.

“All done with that,” Hank said.

“Couldn’t hardly feel it,” Remy said, attempting to joke. His voice was too sad to pull it off.

“We’re nearly done here, mon ami. Just a brief manual examination, which ought not cause much discomfort. I need to place my hands on you.”

“Do what you gotta do, Doc. Gambit can take it.”

“I know you can, brave friend. You will feel just a small amount of pressure, but hopefully, no pain.”

Beast laid his furry hand on Remy’s stomach. Remy flinched just a little, and reached up, probably involuntarily, for something to grab onto.

That thing happened to be Logan’s thick wrist. Logan would normally jerk back, pull away. He battled his instinct, fighting to remain there for his friend. He took a deep breath and held onto Remy’s forearm, strong and steady.

Remy winced as Beast pressed his palm into his abdomen.

“Does it hurt there?” Hank asked, although he clearly knew the answer.

“Oui,” Remy whispered. He gritted his teeth for the next one.

Again, Hank pushed against Remy’s belly, which was at this point a rigid board.

“Uh, stop, s’il te plaît,” he said, as the last vestiges of color left his face.

Nightcrawler quickly transported away and back again, reappearing with a small trashcan.

Logan helped Remy sit up in time to get sick into the wastebasket. He held back Remy’s long hair, while Kurt held the trashcan steady. Together, they aimed to give their friend nothing to worry or think about.

“Merde,” he panted once he was done. Kurt handed him the glass of water again, and offered the wastebasket for him to spit in.

Logan eased him back into a supine position. “How ya feelin’?” he asked quietly.

“Bit shaky. Dat finish the exam, Doc?” The blood had not returned to his face.

“I am very sorry, but not quite yet. I must check each quadrant. Just hold steady, Remy.”

Gambit clutched Logan’s wrist again. This time Logan did not even have the urge to flinch. He gripped Remy’s forearm, hoping his steadiness would calm his friend’s shaking.

Remy did exactly as he was told. He did not move or make a sound, besides answering “oui” every time Beast asked if it hurt.

“It appears you have some generalized inflammation, my Cajun friend. That is not unexpected if you do have an infection, as I suspect is the case. You can take an antiemetic to help with your nausea, along with some anti inflammatories. These may relieve some symptoms, but they are not a cure. Until we know what is the true cause of this trouble, the only thing I can say for certain is that you must rest and try to relax.”

“Oui, I’ll do my best,” Gambit said.

“Here is that topical medicine,” Beast said, setting a small tube on the table next to Remy’s clothes and armor. “You may redress now. I shall be back in a moment with the antiemetic.”

“What Remy want right now is to sleep for a year,” Gambit murmured to his friends.

“I know, Cajun. We’ll get ya there.”

Kurt discreetly placed Remy’s folded shorts right beside him, as Logan helped him to stand up. Remy grunted as he tugged them back on underneath his hospital gown.

“You two prob’ly seen a lot more of Gambit now than you like,” he said.

Nightcrawler spoke for the both of them. “We are just glad we could be there for you, lieber Freund.”

“Merci, Kurt. Y’all know how to make a guy feel loved.”

Again, Logan was humbled by Remy’s candor. Maybe if Kurt and Jubilee could teach him how not to fear comforting a person, perhaps Remy could teach him how not to fear saying his feelings out loud.

“C’mon, Rems. Let’s get the rest of your medicine and get you outta here.”

They took the elevator up and helped Remy limp to his bedroom. He wanted to shower, so Logan waited outside the bathroom door. Someone needed to listen, to hear if he fainted or got sick again.

About twenty minutes later, Remy emerged with wet hair and a flush in his face, dressed in that obnoxious pink crop top and sweats. It was reassuring to see him looking a bit more like his usual tacky self.

“Did you do the medicine?” Logan asked.

“Oui,” Remy replied. “Harder den it seem. Some places, the mirror don’t really reach.”

Logan tried not to shudder. He did not want to think about that type of pain and discomfort.

Remy pulled back the sheets and slowly lowered himself onto the bed. Instinctively, Logan pulled up the blanket to cover him.

“Merci,” Remy murmured, eyelids closing.

“I’m sorry all this happened to you, Rems,” Logan said.

“‘S alright, Logan,” he hummed. “Gambit get t’rough it. He always does.”

Chapter Text

“Where is he?” Rogue demanded, rushing into the living room.

Logan and Jubilee were sitting on the sofa. He drank a beer while she watched a concert on TV. Kurt sat cross-legged on the floor, using the coffee table to work on a jigsaw puzzle.

“Woah, slow down, darlin’.”

Logan turned around as Jubilee lowered the TV volume. Storm stood by Rogue’s side, a strong arm wrapped around her friend’s shoulders.

He still heard the quiet jangle of pop music as he addressed them.

“Gambit is okay. He’s in his room, sleeping when I left.”

“What happened to him?”

“Don’t worry, Rogue,” Jubilee said. “Beast is totally working on something to fix him up.”

Logan wanted to tell her that she was not helping. Instead, he continued on his own.

“He had a run-in with some new Trask weapon. He’s not hurt too bad, and he’s still got his mutation.” He made sure to add that last part to calm the fear in Storm’s piercing eyes.

“It was my fault, Rogue,” said Cyclops.

Logan rolled his eyes. Of course, Scott needed to butt in and try to be the center of attention. He entered from the kitchen with a cup of coffee. Logan wondered if Laser Eye’s habit of evening caffeine had anything to do with why he always acted like such a dick.

“How is it your fault, Scott?” asked Jean.

It was inevitable that she was right behind. She placed her hands on her lower back. Eight months pregnant, she was always achy this time of day. Scott needed to put down the damn coffee cup and help his wife.

“I should never have sent Gambit out alone, no matter how simple the mission seemed.”

Jean held her husband’s face. “Darling, there’s no way you could have known they would test out a new weapon at a warehouse.”

“What new weapon?” Rogue demanded. Tears of anger and stress stood in her eyes.

“Stop makin’ this all about you, Slim. You wanna be the leader? Tell Rogue what’s going on with Cajun.”

Scott sighed and relaxed his shoulders. “You’re right, Logan. I’m sorry, Rogue. Gambit was at a Trask warehouse when he got spotted and they tried out what looks like a new bioweapon on him. There’s no great explanation for this yet, but Beast thinks it somehow weaponized his immune system against him.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” she asked. Storm squeezed her on the shoulder.

“Hank doesn’t have a cure yet. Hell, he hardly knows a cause. Right now, the theory is that the weapon might activate any latent genetic disease and causes our mutant immune systems to overreact to them. Basically, it’s a sped-up version of a human autoimmune disease.”

Rogue made a sharp sound, like a sob. She clasped her hands to her mouth. “Remy...”

Logan spoke up again. “Rogue, darlin’, I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t know. Your man is takin’ this wildcat tough. He’s real tired, and he’s hurtin’, but he’s strong as hell.”

“It is true,” Nightcrawler said. “I was there with Logan while Gambit was being examined. He showed incredible strength.”

“Of course he did,” Rogue said, the frustration and fear in her voice rising, “he’s Remy!” She sniffed and wiped her eyes and nose. “I can see him, right?”

“He’s been asking when you’d be back,” Jean said. “I know it will raise his spirits to see you.”

She sniffled one more time and then her tears stopped. She let go of Storm’s hand.

“Before I go on down there, y’all mind tellin’ me what all this disease done to him?”

Nightcrawler hopped to his feet and began to explain. “Beast described it as a condition called hidradenitis suppurativa.”

Storm winced. “An inflammation of the sweat glands?”

“Ja, so it seems. Remy’s lesions are in some most intimate areas. They are quite painful, and quite numerous.”

Logan watched the color drain from Rogue’s face, much like it did from her boyfriend’s earlier.

“What’s more,” Logan said, “is at least one of those wounds under his skin is infected and got him pretty sick. He spent a minute upchucking in Hank’s lab ‘cause of the pain.”

“Beast gave him a couple medications to tide him over until he finds a cure,” Scott explained. “But Gambit is essentially on bedrest until this all clears up.”

“We’re so sorry, Rogue,” Jean said, heading over to hug her. Between Jean and Storm, Rogue was completely enveloped.

“Thanks, y’all.” The sudden outpouring of affection started her tears again. “I reckon I’ll go disturb my little darlin’s rest.”

“I figure that just might heal him more ‘n anything Hank cooks up in the lab,” Logan said.

Rogue rushed up the stairs toward Gambit’s room.

Gradually, the rest of the team sat down in the living room. Logan took his place a little nearer to Jubilee than before, close enough that he could hug her if she needed it. Storm sat next to him on the far right cushion, and the Summers family held each other on the loveseat. Nightcrawler stayed crouched on the floor, where he seemed the most comfortable.

Scott set his coffee cup down and spoke.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry. More than anything, I want to be a good leader, and to do a good job filling the Professor’s shoes. But something like this happens and shows just how poorly I handle things. Thank you, Nightcrawler, Logan. For your help today. I guess Beast and I aren’t the best at these personal kinds of problems, but you two kept the whole situation calm.”

He took a sip of his caffeine and continued.

“I’m not looking for reassurance. I know I was pretty much useless. I just wanted to thank you guys, and to let you all know that I’m trying to be better.”

Logan was genuinely shocked. That preppy boy scout had never been more sincere in his life. Hearing his confession felt as intimate as seeing Remy in that hospital gown. Some deep changes were happening to all of them today.

“Never thought I’d say this,” Logan replied, “but thanks, Slim.”

Scott laughed quietly and shook his head. “I was just was about start rambling about Beast’s research. No point in that. I’m sick of hearing my own voice.”

“That makes six of us,” Logan said.

Storm and Jubilee laughed. Jean tried to look disapproving, but Logan caught a flicker of a smile on her face.

“Ah, what a shitshow,” Scott said into his coffee cup.

Logan liked him better when he swore.

“I’m going to go talk to Beast. Good night, everyone.”

Scott finished up the last of his drink, kissed Jean, and waved to the rest of his team as he left the living room.

“Over thirty years old and still doesn’t remember to wash his dishes,” Jean said. She used her telekinesis to move the empty mug to the kitchen sink.

Jubilee finally spoke up. Logan realized then that her concert was still playing softly in the background.

“What’ll happen if Beast can’t find a cure?”

She leaned her head against Logan’s chest.

“We have never had reason to doubt Beast before,” Storm said, in a tone that made it clear she was mostly trying to convince herself.

“Hank said the disease usually isn’t dangerous,” Jean added. “It is painful, and it will make him sick, but right now is probably the most severe it will get. Really, the worst case is that Gambit has to take some time off, recuperate, and figure out what his body can handle now.”

“Gambit doesn’t do well with time off,” Jubilee said. “Does HS ever get better on its own?”

“Hank says it doesn’t, Jubes.” Logan pulled her in a little closer. “Either Beast discovers the cure, or Cajun’s just gonna have to take stock of what he’s got.”

“It’s not fair,” Jubilee said. She sounded on the verge of tears. “Being an X-Man means everything to Gambit. He was an orphan like me. I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t be part of this team anymore.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Jean’s voice was tender with concern. “Remy will always have a home here, no matter what. Do you think we would turn him out because he’s sick?”

Jubilee shook her head, failing to contain her fast-welling tears.

Jean continued, “We would never, never. The Academy is our home. All of our home. The Professor has a physical disability, and it was his dream that built this place. Even if Remy doesn’t get better, he’s still an X-Man.”

Jubilee sniffed and composed herself. “I knew that was true, but sometimes it’s good to hear it.”

“I know what you mean,” Storm said with a soft smile.

“Do you guys want to watch the rest of this concert?” Jubilee wiped her eyes with her wrists. “It’s a really good band, and they’re all mutants.”

“I could think of nothing better,” Nightcrawler said, before popping off to fix hot chocolate for everyone.

~

Rogue opened the door as quietly as she could. Remy did not stir at the sound or the movement. She watched his face while he slept. Even while he was out, he looked stressed, a faint line appearing across his forehead.

“Aw, sweetie,” she whispered, as she crawled on top of the covers beside him.

She longed to kiss his worried forehead. Instead, she did the best she could with gloves on, tracing the line of his brow with her forefinger, stroking down the angle of his jaw.

Remy mumbled something and turned over, his face toward her. A deep inhale filled his chest.

“Hey, sugar,” she said, now that she knew he was waking up.

“Sweet Anna Marie,” Remy said, opening his heavy eyelids. The anxious lines disappeared.

“I heard you weren’t feelin’ so good, darlin’.”

“Aw, ‘s not dat bad. Only a couple li’l wounds. I’m just tired out.”

Rogue shook her head. Sometimes her boyfriend’s modesty was a challenging barrier.

“Remy, the team told me what happened. How bad does it hurt?”

He squinted hard. “It hurt my brain, chère.”

“Poor darlin’.” She stroked downward across his eyelids. Remy let out a shaky exhale. “Let me see?”

Suddenly, Remy seemed to be fully awake. He sat up in bed, then laid his head on her fully covered shoulder.

“Non, chérie, you don’ wanna see none of dat ugly mess.”

“Remy LeBeau, nothing about you could be ugly.” She smoothed his damp hair with her gloved hand.

“You might change your mind after zis.” His face looked so sad, she wished she could kiss the pain away.

“Remy, please let me see. I know it’s bad. I know it’s hurtin’ you somethin’ awful. I love you and I want to understand what’s makin’ you sick.”

She tried to make his eyes meet hers. He kept looking anywhere but her face— across the room, up at the ceiling, directly at her breasts.

“You not gon’ like it,” he said.

“Of course I’m not gonna like it,” Rogue said, as gently as she could. “It’s something wrong with my beautiful Remy.”

“Ah, non, don’t use words like dat, chère.”

“You are beautiful, Remy. Even when you’re sick. Even when you’re hurting.”

He looked away once more, as his eyes filled then flowed with tears.

She lifted his chin up to her.

“You are perfect, Remy LeBeau.”

He tilted his head forward, letting it fall against her chest. Rogue cradled him in her arms, fighting her urge to push her face into his hair.

After resting there a few moments, Remy looked up.

“Right. Chérie can see. Jes’ don’t be too scared.”

Rogue smiled. “I promise, sweet pea.”

Remy let out a deep sigh and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He pulled off his sweatpants and shorts, then awkwardly tried to stand.

“Please don’t, baby.” Rogue stood up and eased him back onto the bed. “I can look without you getting up.”

Remy leaned back on his elbows, steadied himself, then opened his legs wide enough for Rogue to assess the damage.

She took it in with a sharp inhale of pain. “Oh, sugar…”

None of Scott’s or Kurt’s words could have helped soften the blunt reality of seeing his wounds— angry, swollen, red and purple, seeping blood and pus and water. She tried to count them, but the borders were difficult. One merged with another under the surface. All in all, she counted five bleeding wounds in the skin of his groin and under his pubic hair. The number of swollen but unopened lesions were far greater.

“My poor darlin’.”

She rested her hand on his bare thigh. He was trembling a little, could not stay still.

“Is that all of them there?” she asked.

“Non,” he replied with a shaky voice. “De rest on ze other side.”

“Show me,” she said.

His breath came shaky as he lay down and rolled onto his stomach. Rogue touched his back as she surveyed the rest of the lesions. Almost as many of these ones were open and weeping. The redness was the worst where his buttock muscle lifted from his thigh, at the place where the friction would be unbearable.

“Sugar… What can I do? D’you want a bath? Some ice? I don’t know what would help…”

“Your love and attention, mon coeur,” Remy replied, turning back over.

“Do you got medicine for it?” she asked, knowing the answer, but hoping he would ask for her help.

“Oui, somethin’ supposed to calm the swelling.”

“Would it make you feel any better right now?”

“Oui, I can put it on.”

Rogue shot him a look, which he had learned during their relationship meant “Don’t be stupid.” Remy smiled a bit at her stern expression. That relieved a bit of the tension in her chest.

“De medicine in ze bathroom,” he said, knowing not to fight her kindness.

Rogue squeezed the medicine onto a cotton swab, then carefully rubbed it into each lesion. Some felt like hardened knots, while some gave way to the slight pressure. With those ones, Remy winced and Rogue apologized. When she encountered the bleeding wounds, she made one application of ointment, then threw away the swab to start fresh. Rogue could not ignore how labored his breathing became as he bore the pain.

“There you go, sugar, all done.”

Remy’s teeth chattered. He turned over onto his side, pressing his cheek into a pillow.

“Merci, chérie,” he managed to eke out.

Again, she longed to kiss his worried face. Instead, she continued with the line of aid that was actually possible.

“You don’t put any dressings on those?”

“I t’ink you’d have to shave me for dat, Anna Marie.”

His answer made sense. She could not begin to imagine how to cover up all those lesions in all those difficult places.

“It is better or worse with clothes on?”

“Mmm, shorts is loose enough, it don’t make no difference. T’ink I’d rather bleed on dose zen my sheets.”

“And it might warm you up, love. You’re shiverin’ somethin’ bad.”

“Oui. Beast said dat gon’ keep happen, while I’m sick.”

“I can’t feel you for a fever… Do you think you mighta got one?”

“Non, chérie. I just been shakin’ like zis.”

“Darlin’…” Rogue nearly sang, as she helped him pull his shorts and sweatpants back on. She coaxed him back under the covers, and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Then, she opened up a trunk at the foot of the bed, took out the spare blanket inside, and laid it on top of him. With the added weight, he stopped fidgeting as much.

“Go to sleep, my love,” she whispered.

“Non…” Remy murmured in reply.

“What do you need, sugar?”

Remy cleared his throat. A single tear raced from his eye. “Don’t leave, oui? I sleep better with you beside me.”

Rogue took his cue. She lay down on top of the bed, hoping the warmth of her body would transfer to him through the blankets. “I love you, Remy. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

Chapter Text

They were all gathered around the table for dinner. It brought a welcome sense of normalcy. Jubilee would admit without hesitation that this was her favorite thing about being an X-Man. Before coming to the X Mansion, she had never had a family meal like this. It felt warm. It felt happy. It felt safe.

Everything would have been perfect, were it not for the conspicuous absence of Remy. She always liked it when he cooked. She liked the jambalaya, the shrimp and grits, the étouffée. The house always smelled good on nights when he fixed dinner.

Tonight, Scott made chili. It had been in the slow cooker all day and filled the mansion with a comforting aroma.

Jubilee crumbled some corn chips over her hot bowl of chili. She liked to use all the toppings, filling it up with cheese and sour cream. It was actually pretty rare that they had corn chips in the house. Scott was kind of a health nut and did not allow much junk food around, besides beers for him and the other adults. He must have known everyone could use some cheering up. She noticed him crushing a handful of chips to go on his chili, too.

“Bon soir, mes amis.”

Remy’s voice sounded from the hallway. He sounded weak, and a little out of breath.

Everyone turned around. There he stood, pale, with tired eyes and messy hair, dressed in the crop top and sweats he used as pajamas. Even so, he had a smile for his friends.

“Sugar, I thought you were takin’ a nap,” Rogue’s eyes showed her concern.

“Gambit get bored too easy. Been cooped up too long.”

None of the X-Men besides Rogue and Beast had seen him in two days. He had been too ill to come downstairs, and, according to Rogue, had spent his days alternating between his bed and the bath.

He pulled out the chair next to Rogue and sat, wincing as he did so.

“You know,” Scott said, “let’s eat in the living room. It’s more comfortable that way.”

“Wait, for real?” Jubilee asked. First, corn chips, then a meal in the living room? She began to wonder if Cyclops had fallen ill, too.

The she felt Logan’s eyes on her. He looked at her seriously and shook his head. She knew he meant that she ought not have said that. Suddenly, she realized how painful it must be for Gambit even to sit down, based on the horrible bits of information she had heard so far.

Everyone moved to the living room, as Scott suggested. Remy scooped out a very small serving of chili and headed to the loveseat with Rogue.

“How are you feeling, Gambit?” Storm asked.

“Tired of bein’ tired,” he admitted, then took a bite. He pointed to Scott with his spoon. “You need to season your chili, mon frère.”

“Everyone’s going to be happier once you feel up to cooking again,” Scott replied. “Jubilee’s been talking about gumbo for the past two days.”

“Some crawfish might help me heal faster,” Remy replied.

“Slim was sayin’ you took sick just to get out of KP,” Wolverine said.

“Good one, homme,” Gambit laughed. Everyone felt Scott’s laser eyes on Logan and smiled.

“Are you doing any better?” Jubilee asked. She could not shake the image of him fainting in the doorway, being all but carried away by Wolverine and Nightcrawler.

“Petit à petit… eh, petite?” When he smiled, his eyes looked weary.

She noticed then that he had not put any of the toppings on his chili, despite ribbing Scott for the lack of flavor. He sure was acting strange.

Remy shifted uneasily on the couch, as though he could not find a position that would not hurt. Rogue rubbed his shoulders as he continued to talk.

“So what Gambit miss? No Sentinels, no Magneto or nothin’?”

“It has been peace and quiet, mein Freund,” Nightcrawler said.

“The fun stops without you,” said Jean.

“Maybe I should take sick more often, if dat mean de X-Men get a break.” He tried to smile again, but the pain showed on his face. He set his bowl down on the coffee table. It was still mostly full. With a sigh, he leaned his head against Rogue’s shoulder.

Jean used her telekinesis to pull a blanket from off the sofa and to wrap it around him.

Jubilee looked at Gambit’s abandoned food with suspicion. There was no way he was getting the nutrition he needed to heal. She had heard that he had been a bit sick to his stomach, but he still needed something to keep his strength up.

“I’m getting seconds,” Jubilee announced. “Does anybody else want more?”

Everybody declined the offer. Jean reassured her husband that it was not because the food wasn’t good, and Beast said something about the wonders of the adolescent metabolism.

When she returned to the living room, she also brought a glass of orange juice for Remy.

“Ah, t’ank you, petite,” he said, and took a long drink. When he was done, he curled up against Rogue’s arm. He looked tired and sweaty, but at least there was a little more color in his cheeks.

“Are the sores healing up any?” Jubilee asked. She made a wish for some good news.

“‘Fraid not yet, petite. My nethers look like they been all ate up. Feel like it too.”

Hank frowned and chuckled at the same time. His eyes looked sad. “You have quite the way with words, my Acadian friend.”

Storm and Nightcrawler struck up a conversation about the puzzle on the table. Apparently the subject was some famous painting Jubilee had never heard of.

Hank got up and asked everyone if they wanted beer or coffee. Most of them wanted beer, and Scott wanted alcohol and caffeine. Jubilee wondered if that could possibly be good for his health.

Gambit groaned quietly as he moved to sit upright. “Sorry, mes amis, but I t’ink I gotta call it a night. My stomach still kinda…” He shrugged instead of finishing his sentence.

“It’s what you get for eatin’ Cyclops’ cooking while you’re still sick,” Wolverine said.

“You too hard on ‘im, Logan. Y’all behave ya’selves, yes? T’anks for ze good company.”

He stood up with a sharp inhale of pain. It was clear to see how trying it was for him to walk. Rogue followed with her hand on his back.

Beast soon returned, carrying his teammates their drinks in his giant hands. Scott alternated between sips of coffee and beer, and Jubilee cringed.

“Well, my friends, I had best return to my research,” Hank said, “lest we have an angry Mississippian on our side.”

They wished him good luck as he headed off, taking the entire coffee pot with him. Jubilee looked around. Logan, Storm, and Nightcrawler drank their beers in silence. Jean pivoted on the sofa and laid her swollen ankles across Cyclops’ lap. Scott massaged her legs with one hand, while pinching his nose bridge with the other.

The room felt colder without Remy in it. Jubilee wondered how everyone else could drink their beverages and enjoy their conversations while knowing their friend was sick and hurting.

Scott huffed out a sigh. He pressed both his hands against his eyes, behind his glasses.

“Ugh, Gambit might not be the only one who’s sick.”

“D’you poison us all, Slim?” Wolverine teased.

“No, I’ve got a migraine coming on pretty hard. I might be out tomorrow morning, depending on how long it takes to clear.”

Jean touched his arm as he stood up. Jubilee could tell his pain spilled out onto her. She squinted her eyes a bit and furrowed her brow.

“I’m alright, Jean. I’m just going to try and sleep it off.”

Scott stood up and went down the hall, keeping his head down.

Jubilee felt even more anxious. It was too weird having two adults sick, especially such tough guys as Gambit and Cyclops. Neither of them were exactly the vulnerable type.

With Scott gone, Ororo pulled an ottoman over for Jean to put her feet on. Jean sighed as she stretched her legs out, and flexed her ankles in circles.

Jubilee felt a little alone. She moved down to the floor to work on the jigsaw puzzle with Nightcrawler. She wondered how Kurt was always such a calm and peaceful person. Had he ever been scared and lonely like her?

She longed for a conversation, but the only thing she knew to say was that she was sad. She was scared that Remy would be sick forever, and that Scott would give himself a hypertensive stroke from his caffeine addiction, and that Beast would work himself into an early grave. All around her, the people who had once seemed like heroes now felt so fragile.

She looked over to Logan, Jean, and Ororo. They were all talking about basketball and how to balance the teams more fairly. Logan set down his beer to gulp down the glass of orange juice that Remy left behind.

Finally, Jubilee gathered the courage to speak. She wasn’t ready to talk about her feelings, but she was going to go crazy if she stayed locked in her own head.

“There’s a movie on tonight that I wanna see. It Came From Below. Looks really good, but I’m too scared to watch it on my own. Does anybody wanna stay up?”

“You know I would, Jubes, but my old bones are achin’.” Wolverine slurped down the last of his beer and crushed the can down in his hand.

“I am also tired, little one,” said Ororo. “Perhaps tomorrow night? I’ll make us popcorn and hot chocolate.”

“Thanks, Storm,” Jubilee said, drawing her knees up to her chin. “I can always tape it tonight and watch it tomorrow.”

Out of nowhere, Jean gagged silently behind her hand.

“A little late for morning sickness,” Logan said, with concern in his voice. “Or did Cyke really poison us after all?”

Jean squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “No, it’s Scott’s migraine. He’s really sick. I need to go be with him.”

Ororo helped Jean to her feet. Then Jean wished everyone a good night, before leaving to tend to her ailing husband.

“Poor Cyclops,” Jubilee said softly, once Jean was gone. “Everyone is broken.”

Logan laughed out loud.

“What? What’s so funny?” She felt a hot tear race down her cheek. Nightcrawler wiped it away as quickly as it fell. Logan pulled her back against his legs, holding her shoulders in his comforting embrace.

“That you think any of that is new,” Storm said with a warm smile. “Brokenness is not unknown to each of the X-Men. It is part of our strength.”

Jubilee felt the ache in her chest, how it stung for Remy and Scott and Jean’s physical pain, for Rogue and Hank’s sleepless nights, for Ororo and Logan and Kurt’s endless toughness. It wasn’t just limited to telepaths— X-Men shared their pain with each other. As she paid attention to the pulling in her heart, she thought she might understand what Storm meant. Maybe this was what it was to be a family.

Chapter Text

Remy’s head pulsed with the spinning of the fan blades. His jaw hurt. His teeth must have been chattering all night long. Judging by his sore muscles, he might have been shivering, too.

He turned his face and there she was. Rogue lay on her back on top of the covers beside him. His movement caught her attention.

“Mornin’, sugar,” she crooned.

Rogue was already dressed and wearing makeup. She looked so cute, he wanted take her in his arms. He could not believe how lucky he was that she had slept beside him like this for three nights now.

“You slept a little restless,” she said. “Looked like you were hurtin’ pretty bad a couple times. You were also talkin’ a bit.”

“Oh? What was Remy sayin’?” He smiled, studying her perfect face.

“Some real nice things ‘bout your girl.” Rogue smirked. “It don’t come off ‘xactly as sexy when you’re shiverin’ and bleedin’. Speakin’ of, let’s take a look at those sores.”

“Oui, chère.” Remy pulled his pants off and moved on top of the covers. He missed when they would do this for more fun reasons.

Rogue inhaled sharply through her teeth. “Aw, sugar. Sit still, I’ll be right back.”

Remy wondered what she saw, what she was fetching. The pain and discomfort had actually subsided a great deal since the night before.

When she returned from the bathroom, Rogue was carrying a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a bag of cotton balls, and the small plastic trash can.

“Looks like a couple of these spots broke open, darlin’. Does it hurt?”

Remy shook his head. “Non, mon coeur. Actually it feel a li’l better. The pressure gone.”

“Sure looks a mess, but I’m glad it hurts a little less, sweetie.” She glanced at his underwear on the floor. It was stained with multiple spots of blood and pus, each about the size of a nickel. “We’ll get these wounds all cleaned up and do your medicine.”

Remy was surprised that the alcohol did not sting his open sores. Maybe he was just desensitized to the pain at this point. He wondered how Rogue’s stomach did not turn to see his groin and backside all eaten up with disease— how she stayed so sweet and so loving. As she applied the gel medication to his lesions, he felt almost dizzy with gratitude for Anna Marie.

“You so good to me, chère,” he said, as she handed him a new pair of shorts.

“Nothin’ I’d rather do, sugar.” She kissed her gloved fingers and touched them to his lips. He swore he could taste berries and nectar.

For the first time in days, he felt really hungry. He ate dinner last night with the team because he was lonely, and before that, he had only picked at the light meals Rogue brought to him in bed. It was hard to eat when he was in such pain. Now that he was on his feet and getting dressed, he felt the demands of his empty stomach.

He pulled on his crop top and sweatpants and caught a whiff of the most comforting smell. He knew Rogue had washed his clothes for him. He did not realize till now that she had used her laundry detergent, the kind that smelled faintly of orange blossoms. It felt incredible to be clothed in something that shared her scent. Now he understood why she stole his hoodies so often. It was the next best thing to being able to touch skin to skin.

They headed to the kitchen, hand in gloved hand. He still felt the rub and the throbbing pain when he took each step, but it was more than worth it to have whatever wonderful thing was being cooked up for breakfast.

Everyone was in the kitchen, except Cyclops, who was nowhere to be seen. Beast and Jubilee were preparing French toast together. She dipped the bread in the egg mixture while he fried them up in the pan. Remy smiled to see it, and to smell it.

“Remy!” Jubilee cried out. “I would hug you but I have eggy hands.”

“T’anks for sparin’ me dat experience, petite.” He laughed.

Then he spotted a bowl of sliced strawberries next to the covered dishes of scrambled eggs and bacon. He grabbed a handful of fruit, just to have something in his belly.

“How ya feelin’, Gumbo?” asked Logan, setting his coffee cup on the countertop.

“Less like a drowned swamp rat. Maybe more like a reg’lar swamp rat,” Gambit said, leaning back against the counter.

“As long as you’re feeling better than last night,” Jubilee said.

“Aw, dat was just Gambit dead tired. Didn’t mean to give petite nothin’ to worry ‘bout.”

“You do look a great deal better, mein Freund,” said Nightcrawler. “Would you like any Kaffee?”

“Danke schön, mon ami.”

Kurt brought him a mug and a tiny pitcher of heated milk. Usually, this team only bothered steaming milk if it was Remy’s birthday and he needed café au lait. Kurt filled his cup halfway with coffee, leaving the perfect amount of room for the milk.

Remy took a sip of his coffee and felt more at home than he had ever felt in his life.

“Breakfast will be ready in moments, if you all would be so good as to head to the table,” Beast announced.

“Do you want to sit somewhere other than these chairs, Gambit?” Jean asked. “We can easily come up with something more comfortable.”

“Non, thank you, chère. It not as bad as all dat, zis morning.”

He took a seat, just to prove it. Rogue sat beside him and squeezed his thigh under the table.

“It’s such a relief to see you feeling at least a little better,” Jean said, then took a sip of her black coffee. “The mansion seems quiet even with one X-Man missing.”

“Merci. Speakin’ of, where dat husband of yours?”

“Scott will be up soon. He had a bad migraine last night, and slept in a little bit.”

“I ain’t know he have a rough time, too.”

“I think it’s the stress,” Jean admitted. “You know how he worries about everyone.”

Remy felt a twinge of satisfaction that Cyclops was fretting over him. It felt like a bright side to his suffering. He made the stuck-up, pompous leader of the X-Men show that he cared.

“Hank, cher, you got any news for me?” Remy asked, after another drink of coffee.

A piece of toast sizzled as Beast pressed his spatula against it.

“I do, but perhaps you would prefer to discuss it with me in private.”

Remy shook his head. “Gambit wait till Cyke get here. If it good news, I wanna hear it wit’ my family. If it bad news, I really wanna hear it wit’ my family.”

Just then, he felt two squeezes— Rogue’s gloved fingers laced in between his, and Logan’s broad hand on his shoulder. For a second, he thought he could be happy like this forever. Even if he never got better, it might be alright with these people beside him.

Storm smiled and looked at him with the kindest eyes. “I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to have you joining us again, brother. Even something as small as breakfast feels cold and unfamiliar when missing a friend.”

“Really,” Jean added. “We’re so glad you have a little more energy today. Is the pain still bad?”

“Some of ze wounds bust open while I was asleep. Miss Rogue got me all cleaned up, but Gambit still bleedin’. It hurt a li’l less wit’ dem open, but it look a hell of a lot uglier.”

Jean winced in sympathy. “God, Remy, I can’t imagine. Please, let us know if you need anything at all today. I know you don’t like to ask for help, but you can’t overexert yourself.”

Rogue smiled a bit and leaned her head carefully against his shoulder. “You ain’t gonna lift a finger today, sugar.”

Then, they all turned as they heard Scott’s heavy footsteps.

“It’s good to see you, Gambit.”

Scott did not look quite like himself. Remy didn’t think he had ever seen Cyclops leave his room before getting dressed all preppy in some polo or sweater. This morning, he was in flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt, his hair still a mess. It made him seem a bit more like a regular guy.

“That café au lait looks good. I think I’ll spare myself the acid and have what you’re having.”

He headed over to the kitchen and poured himself a coffee with steamed milk. To Remy’s knowledge, Cyclops had never taken his coffee any way but black.

“And how are you feeling this morning, mein Freund?” asked Nightcrawler.

“Hungry,” Scott replied. “Tired. Didn’t get to sleep until pretty late.”

“Well, you’ll be eating good in just a minute,” Jubilee chirped. “French toast is almost done, and we’ve got plenty for everyone.”

“Gambit hear you have a bad time last night,” Remy said to Scott.

“It’s nothing,” Scott replied. “Especially compared with what you’ve been fighting. I heard what you just said about your wounds.”

“Hey, nothin’ like café au lait to take de pain away, oui?” He clinked his mug against Scott’s and they both drank.

Jean assisted Hank and Jubilee telekinetically, bringing the eggs and bacon and fruit and coffee and the mountain of French toast to the center of the table.

“Truly an X-Men sized breakfast,” Beast said with a smile, admiring the spread.

“It looks super delicious,” Jubilee said, “and I’m not just saying that ‘cause I made it.”

Nightcrawler raised his voice to bless their shared meal. Even though Remy was more of the sinning than the praying type, he liked when Kurt prayed out loud. It reminded him of the rare safe moments of his youth, of full tables and warm beds.

“So, I think it’s fair to say we’ve all been through a lot these past few days,” Cyclops said, “Gambit most of all. But Hank has pulled multiple all-nighters now, and Rogue’s been on nursing duty. I know the rest of you have had your stresses and your ways to help since we learned of this Trask weapon.”

“What is this, a business meeting?” Wolverine said.

“Logan, be patient. What I’m getting at is, we’re all exhausted and could use a break.”

He put an entire strip of bacon into his mouth and continued.

“I’m canceling all training for today. Gambit isn’t well enough. I’m still shaky on my feet from being sick last night. And Beast and Rogue haven’t had enough sleep to use the Danger Room without it being an actual hazard. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I want to enjoy a slow and boring weekend.”

He grabbed the bottle of maple syrup and thoroughly soaked his four slices of French toast.

“Thanks, Cyclops,” Jubilee said in surprise.

“A rest day could do us some good,” Scott said. “I’m still new at being the main leader here. I know I’m not perfect. I’ve made some mistakes. But I want you all to know how important you are to me. If one of us hurts, we all hurt. It doesn’t take any high-level telepathy for that to be true.”

Jean held his hand on top of the table. Rogue mirrored them, taking Gambit’s hand as well.

A shiver went up his spine, and it wasn’t from Rogue’s gloved touch. Remy wasn’t used to feeling anxiety. He did not expect it to strike right then. Right now, it was a more uncomfortable sensation than the chafing of his shorts against the open edges of his wounds.

“Right den,” he said, “now’s a’ good a time as any. Hank, cher, tell me ‘bout your research.”

Remy grabbed the tongs and piled some scrambled eggs on his plate. If he started eating, he would have to force himself to listen to what Beast had to say and not interrupt.

“Ah,” Hank replied. Remy could not discern the emotion on his face. “Well, mon ami, I am not certain whether you will consider this to be good news or the reverse. All the same, the final step in the scientific process is to disseminate one’s findings. So, here they are.”

Everyone fixed their eyes on Beast, except for Remy, who began to tear into his scrambled eggs.

“It seems you really do have hidradenitis suppurativa, in the same way as any human with the disease might. And, as such, there is currently no cure. However—”

His voice brightened as he said this word.

“My research indicates a promising treatment option for you. There have been some studies testing the suppression of tumor necrosis factor, or TNF, in the treatment of autoimmune diseases, including yours. And the results are promising. As such, based on the latest medical research, with help from some of my colleagues on Muir Island, I propose that we begin treatment with a TNF inhibitor as soon as possible.”

Remy swallowed another bite before replying. “‘S they any chance dat treatment gon’ affect my abilities?”

“Your mutant abilities? Not in the slightest. However, it will affect the abilities of your immune system. This treatment does carry some risks, mon frère. Namely, your ability to fight off infections. You may find yourself more susceptible to colds, bronchitis, influenza, and perhaps even the occasional more severe infection.”

Rogue clutched Remy’s hand again. He felt his heart beating fast.

“And what’s the risk, if I don’t do ze treatment?”

Beast put on a grave expression, “You will not get better, Remy. Your disease would worsen. We could attempt surgery to excise the affected areas over time, but they will always come back, and your range of motion will become more limited with each infection and each surgery.”

He caught direct eye contact with Gambit and held it.

“It pains me to imagine this future, my friend. I fear it would be nothing but the pain and suffering you experienced in the lab three days ago, over and over again. And if I may be so self-centered as to insert my own emotions, I do not think I could bear it.”

“Neither could I, sugar.” Rogue held the side of his face in her hand. “You sick and in pain like you’ve been…”

“Hell, it breaks even my heart to see it, Cajun,” Wolverine said.

Scott spoke up again. “None of us have any right to tell you what to do, Remy. We know you’re facing some difficult decisions—”

“Non, ain’t nothin’ difficult about it, cher. How the treatment work, Doc?”

He wanted to put his friends at ease, but he really meant it. Even catching pneumonia every now and then would be preferable to continuing to go on in his current condition.

“I would need to administer it to you via infusion in the lab, once every two weeks. The whole process takes less than an hour. You likely will experience no side affects, aside from the aforementioned susceptibility to infection.”

Hank sipped on his coffee before continuing. “Now, as I have stated before, this is not a cure. You might still experience the occasional flare-up, much like our dear Cyclops still battles the occasional migraine.”

Remy turned his head toward Scott, whose shoulders were being rubbed by Jean.

“And much like his migraines, your dermatological flare-ups might be triggered or worsened by stress. Unfortunately, I don’t feel there is much chance in avoiding that, among the X-Men,” Beast chuckled.

“You will be knocked down sometimes. Other times, you will feel wonderful for weeks or even months on end. I have belief that one day, we will discover a cure for your disease. For now, this treatment and outcome are the best for which we can hope.”

Remy felt everyone’s eyes fall on him. They were waiting for him to respond. He focused on Rogue’s hand as she rubbed his back, and noticed tears stinging at his eyes.

He took a deep breath and spoke. “‘S a lot to take in, non? Merci, Beast. Hank. You lost a whole lotta sleep learnin’ all dis. And t’ank you to all de X-Men. Y’all been real good to Gambit t’rough everyt’ing.”

He finished up his now room temperature coffee.

“Gambit do the treatment, oui. Long as y’all don’t got no problem wit’ me takin’ sick sometimes.”

“Of course not, Remy,” Jean said. Her voice was thick with emotion.

“These past few days have been no fluke, lieber Freund,” Nightcrawler said. “We will always tend to you in your need.”

“Yeah,” said Jubilee, “what else are friends for?”

“What else are family for?” added Storm.

Remy blinked hard as his tears dropped onto the table.

“Merde, y’all done make a old thief cry.”

“We love ya, Rems,” said Logan, with Jubilee wrapped around him.

“And X-Men are family,” Scott said. “We’re glad you’re part of ours, Remy.”

Gambit could not help but let a small laugh slip out as he noticed a tear fall from behind Scott’s glasses. It felt good to be this loved.

“Hoo, all dis talk and all dis cryin’ make Gambit hungry. Let’s not us let dis French toast get cold, yes? We got us a lazy day to get started on.”

He took his fork and knife and began to cut up his syrup-drenched toast. Rogue poured him some more coffee, and Hank reminded everyone to eat plenty of eggs and bacon. Plates were passed, and chatter and laughter began. Remy felt the pain of his wounds lessen. The hurt was still there, but it felt lighter.

He took in the joy and care in the faces around him. Yes, he had been a card player all his life, but never before now had he ever been dealt a hand so lucky as at this table.