Summary:
“Akk-kak!”
“Hold on, kid, we’ll have ya back at the mansion in five minutes, tops.”
Logan reassured Remy from the driver’s seat of the black convertible.
Remy was thrashing about in the back of the car, whilst Scott tried to keep his head still on his lap.
“Lay still, Gambit!” He commanded, “Try to calm down.”
Gambit spat a glob of blood onto the floor of the car,
“Calm down! How da fuck do I do dat? I’m fuckin’ dyin’ here!” then he starting coughing up even more blood.
“Yer not gonna die, Gumbo, yer gonna be fine.” Logan shot past the third set of red lights in a row.
“Shit, Logan! At this rate you’re going to kill us all!” Scott appreciated Logan’s sense of urgency, but his reckless driving was an unnecessary risk.
Remy held his stomach as if he was trying to keep his guts from falling out - which he might well have been doing, the gash had been pretty damn deep.
Only forty-five minutes ago they’d been happily drinking at a bar called ‘Sweet and Syrupy’; Remy’s suggestion. There had been many cocktails before the fight broke out.
Remy was flirting as usual.
“Hey there, chere.” Remy had sauntered over to the stunning brunette, and then cranked the charm power up as high as it would go. “Can I get y’ a drink?”
“Sure, but my name ain’t ‘Chere’.” She flicked her hair over one shoulder, working a pretty effective charm power of her own.
“What is it den?” he grinned, backing the girl up against the bar, resting his hands on her waist.
“Lucky.” She said, licking her lips.
“Well, y’r gonn’ live up t’ dat name tonight, ‘Lucky’.” He leaned forward and his lips so nearly met their intended target…
“Yeah, maybe.” Came a gruff voice from behind him, “But not with you.”
Big hands grabbed him by the neck, spinning him round to come face to face with the biggest, hairiest most bear-like man he’d ever seen.
“Shit!” He managed to squeak, before he was thrown over the bar.
Scott and Logan looked up at the commotion, and immediately abandoned their drinks to come to their friend’s aid.
The huge man vaulted the bar landing on Remy’s back.
Remy screamed in pain.
Big’n’hairy picked him up again, grabbed a bottle and smashed it against the edge of the bar, then buried the jagged glass into Remy’s stomach.
At that point all hell broke loose.
Somewhere in the chaos, Scott managed to convince Logan to quit the fight to get Remy to the car.
So here they were, hurtling through Salem Centre at around 85mph, Remy curled up on Scott’s legs, muttering inaudibly.
“It’s so fuckin’ thick.” He mumbled, raising one hand to eye-level, rubbing the sticky liquid between his fingers, “Y’ guys, I t’ink I’m bleedin’ syrup.”
Scott grimaced, he’d been in a fuck-load of fights before, but he didn’t remember ever seeing this much blood. His expression intensified when Remy licked at his bloody fingers.
“Tastes like it too. Oh, I t’ink I’m gonn’ puke…”
“Pass me the radio, Logan, I want to phone ahead, make sure Hank’s going to be ready for us.” Scott didn’t take his eyes off Remy, but put his hand out for the radio.
Logan complied.
“Hank? Someone! We’ve got an emergency, Gambit’s been seriously injured, he’s losing a lot of blood-”
“Scott?” A crackly voice replied, Scott didn’t recognise it at first, but soon enough he realised it was Cecilia Reyes.
“Yes, Dr Reyes, can you warn Hank, we’ll be there in about five minutes.”
“Hello? I can’t hear you…” Then static broke the line. He just hoped they’d got the message.
Suddenly Remy started thrashing about more than ever, complaining about the pain. Scott hung up the radio and focussed on trying to calm down the young man dying in his arms.
“Gambit, the more you move, the quicker you’re losing blood.” He grabbed Remy’s face, tilting it up so he was looking into his eyes, “Please, hold on, we’re nearly there.” Remy nodded, he understood, but it was easier said than done. Blood streamed from his mouth and every breath seemed to gurgle in his throat. He was so cold too, it seemed ironic when he was covered in so much warm blood, but Scott had removed his shirt to hold against the wound and now he was going into shock.
Logan didn’t wait for the mansion gates to open, he simply smashed through them.
“Thought you warned them we were on our way?” He growled.
“You fucking asshole!” Cyke screamed from the back, he’d lurched forward when the car hit the gates, and his glasses had broken against the back of the front seat, he had to keep his eyes squeezed shut whilst he tried to find his visor in his jacket pocket. “I tried to fucking warn them!” He clicked the visor into place and looked down at Remy.
The kid was convulsing, bubbles of blood foaming from his mouth, his eyes wide open, rolling. “Shit, Logan he’s dying!”
Logan pulled off a handbrake turn that Remy would have appreciated had he been conscious. As he swerved, the rear of the car smacked up against the mansions steps. He tore the front door off the car, and hauled Scott and Remy out of the back.
Hank appeared at the front door, looking really worried, when he saw the amount of blood Remy and Scott were soaked in, his worry doubled.
Gambit’s body was limp in Logan’s arms, his arms dangled lifelessly as Logan pushed past Hank and raced through the hall towards the med-lab, Hank and Scott in close pursuit.
Ten minutes later Hank and Cecilia had Remy in surgery. The outlook was bleak, Hank had made that very clear before starting work.
Logan sat outside the lab, rubbing his forehead. After so many battles, it seemed inconceivable that one of the team would end up dying from wounds obtained during a bar-brawl. He liked the kid. Maybe if it had been Summers on that operating table instead of Gumbo, he might not have felt so sick. He looked down at his blood-stained shirt; that was Remy’s blood.
Just then, Scott came charging down the corridor, Logan had just enough time to get up before Scott lunged at him, shoving him back against the wall,
“You fucking idiot!” he cried, “What’s wrong with you?!”
Logan took a moment to gather his senses, then pushed Scott with such force that he flew back and hit the opposite wall.
“What’s wrong with me?!” Logan roared back, “I’m not the one who wanted us to do 10mph! If it had been you driving we’d still be on the fucking road!”
“You smashed my god-damned glasses, if I’d opened my eyes by mistake I could have killed you!”
“Then it’s a good job you have such fucking good control!”
Scott lunged again, tackling Logan to the floor and pounding on his chest.
Logan extended his claws, he had no desire to see any more blood, but he was so hyped up and on edge, he needed to do something to take his mind off Remy, he couldn’t resist a fight.
Unfortunately they had only a few minutes before Jean, Storm and Rogue appeared.
Rogue forcibly removed them from each other.
“What do ya’ll think yah doing?” she asked as Jean pulled her husband into a tight embrace,
“Oh Scott, what happened, you’re bleeding!” she cried,
“Don’t worry, it’s not mine. It’s Gambit’s.”
This caught Rogue’s attention. Her head snapped round and she glared at Scott.
“What happened ta Remy?” she whispered.
Logan stood,
“He got into a fight, Hank’s operating on him now, he lost a lot of blood though…”
“Is he going to be okay?” Storm asked in a quiet voice.
Neither answered though.
It was a further two hours before Hank appeared in the hall.
Scott had fainted, it seemed he’d hit his head rather hard more than once during the erratic drive home and concussion had just taken a while to override the adrenalin surge he’d been suffering from. His wife held him, rocking him gently.
Logan had taken off his shirt and thrown it across the floor, he hated having someone else’s blood on him, especially when it was a friend’s.
But now Hank stood there, surgical scrubs as bloody as Logan’s shirt, an unreadable expression on his face.
Rogue was on her feet and in his face before he’d said a word,
“How is he?!” she demanded.
“He’ll survive.” Hank said, “Barely.”
Logan let out the breath he’d been holding since he’d seen Hank emerge from the theatre.
Later that night, when the commotion had died down, Logan went to the infirmary to see how the kid was doing.
“Remy?” he whispered, the infirmary was bright, the lights seemed to stay on all day and all night down here.
Remy lay on the bed, covered in wires, the steady beep of the heart-rate monitor unnerved Logan, he hated the chemical smell of the place.
Remy turned his head to look at him.
His eyelids drooped low over his beautiful black and red eyes.
He croaked some sort of greeting.
“Shh, don’t try ta talk.” Logan smoothed out the kid’s silky soft hair. “You’re gonna be okay.”
Remy mumbled something that sounded like ‘thanks’ but could just as easily been a parting groan as he fell asleep again.
End
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