****************** Title: Catching Fire Author: TM (sblank@mailcity.com) Disclaimer: Okay, again with the disclaimer thing: I don't own them, Marvel owns them, I'm not making any money off of this and suing me would cost you more than my yearly income in lawyer's fees, so why bother? Oh, and it gets a little steamy in here, so if you can't handle that or you're underage, feel free to just wander off now. ;-) ****************** ****************** Ororo Monroe - better known as the X-man Storm - roused from a drugged sleep to find herself in a small room with bars on the window and a heavy steel door. There were two cots in the room, which would have been too small for her comfort even if she didn't have to share it. Remy Lebeau - Gambit to all save those he considered friends - slept the sleep of the stoned on the other cot, directly across the room from her. He was snoring lightly, something that she knew he didn't normally do. They had often slept together, like brother and sister or father and daughter, in those early days after she had been regressed by the villainess Nanny into an amnesiac child. Sometimes they still slept together, after talking deep into the night, falling asleep wherever they happened to be. Usually either on the roof of the mansion or in her loft, his room being much too small for one with her claustrophobia. Even her loft, spacious as it was, sometimes seemed far too cramped and confining. Thinking about it brought the memories a little closer to the surface. Memories of being buried beneath the rubble of an Egyptian hotel, memories of being encased in metal, of being trapped underground, of... She took a deep breath, forcing herself not to whimper in fear, and sat up. She was dizzy for a moment, almost lost control of her stomach, but recovered and stood. She walked over to the cot where Gambit slept, and nestled against him, using his warmth and familiar presence to remind herself that she was not trapped alone, that there was a chance to escape. There was always a chance, so long as they had life and wit. Not a very good chance, in this case, however. She had to admit that. They had been stripped naked while they slept off the effects of whatever had sedated them, and no one had bothered to give them their clothes back. All that either of them were wearing were Genoshan-style collars, designed to negate their powers. Actually, it was a clever idea on someone's part, to leave them naked. Not only would it have a demoralizing effect on most people, but it would inhibit them from trying to escape. The two of them, however, were not the typical, repressed Westerners. Ororo was African, from a tribe which saw nothing sinful in nudity, while Remy was... well, Remy. Hedonistic, uninhibited, and utterly shameless about anything to do with his body. "If you've got it, flaunt it" was his motto, and he most definitely had it. A long, lean figure, not an ounce of wasted flesh on those elegant bones, soft thick auburn hair, eyes like onyx with ruby irises - usually laughing, those eyes, but always with at least a hint of sadness as well, although few saw deeply enough to perceive it. He had done so many things in his short life that he regretted, caused and suffered so much pain, that he rarely was able to just let go completely. He did so with her, sometimes. It was a rare and precious gift, that trust he gave her. There were so few that he allowed himself to be vulnerable with. Rogue, once, before she had left him to die in Antarctica. Logan occasionally caught glimpses of the inner Remy. Jean-Luc Lebeau, Remy's adopted father, she assumed. She didn't know the elder Lebeau well enough to be certain of that, but she knew that Remy's love and gratitude toward the former master of the Thieves' Guild ran deep and strong. Jean-Luc had taken him in off the streets, taught him his trade, treated him as he would a son of his own blood. He'd believed in Remy, and there were all too few who had ever done that. He shifted and moaned, coming out of unconsciousness, and his hands started roaming in instinctive response to their mutually unclothed proximity. "Gambit," she said mildly, a part of her almost wanting to stay silent and let his instincts take them where they would. "Wake up. We have been kidnapped." "What, again?" he grumbled. "Why de hell can't we just have a nice normal lunch out toget'er like normal people, just once, wit'out all dis mutant crap coming up?" "Because we are X-men, my friend, and normal and the X-men have only the most passing of acquaintances," she answered dryly. She felt his chest rumble with his chuckle. "Ain't that the trut'. Um... you got any idea where our clothes are?" "Unfortunately, no. They were gone before I regained consciousness. And I do hope you don't mind the crowding," and with the cot as narrow as it was, there was indeed absolutely no room to do much of anything without bringing certain body parts into contact with certain others that could cause...reactions, "but this room is... so small." Remy shifted slightly, sliding one arm beneath her in an embrace and brushing her hair with his lips in a brotherly gesture of reassurance. "It all right, Stormy. We get out o' dis." His voice was soft, a thief's whisper, comforting and private. She curled a little closer to him, and simply listened to the steady rhythm of the heart beating beneath her ear. He held her for a long time, letting his warmth and the reassuring beat of his heart calm her claustrophobia. Then he shifted and stood up, walking around the room, and she sat up to watch him as he examined their confinement. "Hmmph. Somebody know what they doing," he acknowledged. "Might just be that we have t' wait for the others to find us." His eyes gave her a different message, however. I have a plan. Play along. She let herself curl up in apparent defeat. He sighed and walked over to her, putting his arm around her as she wrapped her arms around her drawn-up knees, huddling like a frightened child. "Ah, now don't be that way, Stormy. I'm here wit' you. We be all right." His eyes said, yes, that's right, you're on the right track. He pulled her into a tight embrace. "I'm right here." He began to rock her slightly, stroking her hair. It felt good, and she did need the comfort. Her claustrophobia had eased somewhat over the years, but she still suffered panic attacks if confined for too long in a cramped space. He crooned lightly, in a mixture of French and English, soft songs and gentle phrases, and she relaxed in his arms. His hands began roaming again, never quite entering forbidden territory, then he stood and pulled her to her feet. "C'mon, petite, give me a hand wit' dis mattress. Don't particularly want to give these boys a show, but you driving me crazy here, all bare an' beautiful. They won't be able to watch if we over there," and he jerked his head toward the corner where there was a tiny hole. She knew if she looked in there closely, she would see the glint of a camera lens. Obviously Remy had seen the same thing, because that corner would be the one place that anyone watching the monitors wouldn't be able to see them. Now what exactly is he up to with this? Ororo asked herself. They had never been lovers, simply the best of friends. But his eyes urged her to trust him, filled with mischief but not lust. He did have a plan. Something more than just getting her to have sex with him. Which is almost a pity, she thought, watching the muscles ripple under his sleek skin. He was a handsome man when clothed. Unselfconsciously naked, he was a feast for the senses, waiting to be devoured. I think if he had ever asked, ever treated me as anything but a sister, I would have accepted him, and gladly. Even knowing what happened in the Morlock Tunnels. The Goddess did not create man - or woman - to live alone. And I have been alone for years now since Forge decided that his scientific studies were more important to him than I. She helped him pull the mattress off the metal frame of the cot and into the corner amid many teasing brushes of hands and hips and lips. They took the blankets with them too. "T'ink maybe we need to make sure that anyt'ing they do see, ain't gonna be t'ings we don't want them seeing." His tone was lascivious, but his eyes gave the double meaning. They lay down together with much low laughter, drawing the sheet over themselves. It made what they were doing much easier, and hid the fact that they weren't actually having sex, just squirming around with each other on the mattress and making explicitly suggestive noises. It was rather fun, actually. They were just approaching the "climax" of their performance when the door swooshed open, sliding back into the wall. Two men entered, one holding a gun, the other fumbling with the belt of his pants. They didn't stand a chance. The two prisoners had heard them coming, and were ready. They exploded up off the mattress, Remy throwing the blanket over the head of the armed guard, and Storm attacking the unarmed one. The two men went down without a shout or a shot fired. They stripped the men and took their uniforms, then dumped them both on the mattress, bound together with their own handcuffs and belts, gagged with socks, and covered by the blanket. Remy grinned at Ororo. "Can I plan `em, or can I plan `em?" She giggled and shook her finger at him. "We have not yet escaped, my friend. Pat yourself on the back when we have returned safely home." He stuck his tongue out at her like a little boy, then sobered, looking at the patch on the shoulder of the uniforms. "FOH. I hate these bastards." The Friends of Humanity were the biggest and most visible of the mutant hate groups, and the X-men had numerous run-ins with them before. "I am not overly fond of them myself. But chastising them shall have to wait. Did you see any keys with which to remove these inhibitor collars? Mine did not have one." "None here eit'er. Guess they want to make sure that the rank an' file don' do anyt'ing stupid...er." He winked at her. She loved his expressiveness. They slipped out of the cell, and down the corridor. "I t'ink maybe getting out of here be more important dan looking for our clothes, oui? The X-men gonna be looking f' us, and I be pretty sure dis place be shielded `gainst telepathy and mutant scanning equipment. We get out o' dis place, we can try t' reach Phoenix or Cable. They the ones most likely to be scanning f' us." It wasn't easy to evade detection as they snuck out of the building. And when they reached the exit, it became impossible. There were four guards at the exit, chatting. "Shift change," Remy groaned. "Even dis t'ief ain't good enough t' get past them all wit'out being spotted." "Shall we seek an alternate exit?" "T'ink maybe we don't have the choice," he hissed, hearing someone coming up behind them. "Just walk straight up to them." This uniform is not even close to my size, and he knows that there are very few women in combat positions in the FOH. This is madness... but it is also our only chance. She walked up, keeping behind him as much as possible. His uniform was closer to his size than hers was, and she knew that odd "charm power" of his wasn't affected by the collars they wore. No one had been able to determine why it was so, but it was known that he could still use it even with his kinetic abilities shorted out. She was absurdly glad that the uniform that the FOH was wearing included a baseball cap. Her long white hair was braided and bundled up beneath hers, reducing slightly the chance of being recognized with a casual glance. "Hey there," he said with a perfect imitation of a Midwestern accent. "I'm new here, wondering if you could tell me where... what's that?!?" The four guards turned for a moment, and Storm knew that Gambit had used his charm power to make them think there was something behind them, something dangerous. But there wasn't. The danger was in front of them, leveling his automatic rifle at them as they snapped their heads back toward him. "Drop the weapons," Gambit growled in a voice that Storm had rarely heard from him. It was the voice she heard sometimes in nightmares of the Morlock massacre, a voice that commanded attention and fear. Of all the X-men, only Logan was better at sheer intimidation, and much of that was because of Wolverine's greater age and less-perfect features. Gambit was just a little too pretty for his own good sometimes. In this case, however - perhaps he had thrown a little charm into the command - the four guards hastily obeyed. Their rifles hit the floor almost as soon as he'd spoken. Storm moved to collect them, and met the group of FOHers that had come around the corner with a gun in each hand. Six of them. Four guards. Ten against two, and she and Gambit had no powers. "Over there," she ordered, gesturing with one gun while keeping the other trained firmly on the group she was covering. They were murmuring in fear as they obeyed, scurrying to the corner that she'd indicated. Gambit sent his to join hers. "`Gainst the wall, all o' you. Spread `em. Storm, search these losers, see if they got anyt'ing useful." They muttered as he used her code name and he growled. "Quiet, or I blow the lot of y' to Hell." They went silent, save for their rasping breaths. She could feel the fear rising off them, smell it as she moved close and searched them one-handed, her second gun slung over her shoulder. No keys for their collars, but she pocketed keys, and anything that might conceivably be used to pick locks or as a weapon. "You won't get away with this, muties," the FOHer with the most patches and gold trim on his uniform snarled. "Sooner or later, we shall cleanse the gene pool of your kind." "Yah, yah, yah, I heard that one before. Buy a new record, neh?" He backed off a couple steps. "Hold `em, Storm." He turned and opened a door set into the wall. "T'ought so. In here." The lanky thief gestured toward the changing room whose door he had just opened. It was filled with long thin lockers, all securely fastened. "Get in there. Move." The two mutants chivvied their hostages into the changing room and Remy tossed in a gas grenade that he'd apparently lifted from one of the guards. Then they closed the door and jammed it shut with the barrel of one of the guns. "I cannot believe that we pulled that one off," Storm said with a sigh. "Dat makes two of us," Gambit returned with his usual roguish grin. They walked out the door, and found a Corvette sitting out front. Storm pulled out a set of car keys with a remote control for the locks. The sweet sound of the doors unlocking came to their ears and the dome light went on automatically. They grinned at each other. "Looks like the two of us escape in style," Gambit laughed. Then they heard the alarms go off in the base. Somebody had noticed what was going on. They ran for the car and dove in, Storm tossing the keys to Gambit, who launched himself over the low roof of the car and over to the driver's side, sliding in almost simultaneously with her arrival in the passenger seat. He didn't even bother to shut the door, just jammed the key in the ignition and floored it. The door slammed shut with the sudden application of g-forces and they were off. They were in the middle of nowhere, apparently. They drove at a breakneck speed down what appeared to be a rural highway, through thick woods, racing toward the sunset for lack of any better directions. Behind them came a cavalcade of vehicles as the FOHers poured out of their base and into their cars. And from above came the ominous sound of helicopter blades. As one of them passed the fugitives, it opened fired with the machine guns attached to its cockpit. "Merde!" Remy cursed, and turned off the main highway onto a local road. "Those t'ings are armed!" They were fleeing deeper into the woods now, making it harder for the choppers to pursue them, but the road was getting rougher, and Remy had to slow down, giving the slower cars and trucks a chance to catch up. "We got anyt'ing to brace the gas pedal wit'?" Remy shouted, and Ororo looked frantically around. They had just whipped past a sign warning them of a dirt road ahead. "Toolbox!" she exclaimed, and pulled it forward. She jammed it in as he pulled his foot back. He continued to steer as they hit the dirt, and they tensed in their seats, as a massive plume of dust erupted behind their spinning wheels. "Thank the Goddess it hasn't rained for days!" she said prayerfully. One mile passed, then two, three.... They were waiting for a good spot, somewhere like... here. They darted one last look at one another, and then dove out in opposite directions. The car continued to race down the straightaway until it hit a pothole and spun out, flipping in midair and crashing into the trees almost half a mile down the road. The speed of the car had shut the doors behind them, and the clouds of choking dust should have concealed their exit, but they both knew that the FOHers would look for their bodies. And then, a blessed bit of luck went their way as flames began to show through the mangled trees. As soon as the cavalcade of FOHers had passed, Ororo stumbled across the road, trusting to the cloud of choking dust to conceal her passage. She almost fell over Remy, still not up after a rougher landing than hers. He'd apparently found a rock or something with his head, because while they had both bailed out into the relative softness of the bushes surrounding a small stream, he'd been knocked out cold while she was merely cut and bruised. She hauled him up, thankful that Remy was one of the lightest of the male X-men, and began to drag him down to the water. He roused as they waded into the stream, trying to walk. A long half-mile down the stream, she found a small embankment to sit him on while she ripped part of her torn uniform off and wiped his face with the cool water. They were both panting with exhaustion and shock, and by the color of what little light made it through the sheltering leaves overhanging the stream, it was getting late. "We need to find somewhere to pass the night," Ororo said. "And we are far too close to where we escaped. Can you go on?" Remy nodded. "Oui. Not gonna let y' down, Stormy." She sighed in exasperation. "How many times must I tell you not to call me that?" He gave her a tired smile. Not one of his famous grins, but a real smile, that warmed those exotic red-and-black eyes. "Can't help it. It just fit you so good." "You always say that." "I say it `cause it's true." He gave a groan and stood up. "Much as I like to just sit here and let you fuss over me, we got to get moving again." He was much steadier now, some of his usual catlike grace returning. "We shall have to keep moving well into the night. And find a place where we can leave this stream.... any dogs they might have would be unable to track us this far through the water, and we need to get dry before night falls, and the temperature with it." They splashed through the stream a while longer before finding a spot where a deer trail came down to the water. They stumbled up onto the trail, wet to their hips. Ororo had long since disposed of her ill-fitting boots, preferring to go barefoot rather than contend with the sloshing of the wet boots on her narrow feet. She often went barefoot back at the mansion, and her soles were toughened enough that she could walk through the woods in relative comfort. They continued to walk until long after dark, not finding a secure spot to rest until they could be tracked down by their teammates. Fortunately, both of their physical mutations included excellent night vision, Remy with his unique eyes and her with her catlike slit pupils. They had no difficulty seeing their way, and knew that any pursuers would probably lack that advantage. Finally, they gave up. They were both battered and exhausted, and they were spending more time stopping to catch their breath than they were actually moving on. "We need t' hole up," Remy said. "Ain't gonna be able t' go on much longer, me." "Nor I," she admitted. "But we have to find...." "There," he said, pointing to a spot where a tree had fallen over. "Don't t'ink it be safe to have a fire, but if we can pile some of that brush there against the trunk, and a few of dose branches on the ground t' keep us out of the damp, I t'ink we be okay. `Specially if we pile the brush so that it look like it just a bush from trail-side. It be a rough camp, but ought t' be safe enough unless there's bears or some such in these woods." Ororo looked at the site with the eyes of an experienced wilderness dweller. She was not so familiar with this climate as with her beloved African plains, but she had learned enough from Wolverine to assess conditions properly, even without her powers. The weather was easy enough for her to read, even without her powers she was more aware of weather conditions around her than most people. This was far enough above any water sources that they didn't have to worry about flooding even if it did rain upstream. It was highly unlikely that it would rain here, and the temperature shouldn't drop too much further. If they could stay dry and huddled together, they should be fine. Discovery was the only real threat, and Remy's suggestion should reduce the chance of that happening. The two of them worked in silent accord, finding leafy branches and arranging bits of brush to create a cozy nest. It was Ororo's idea to seal themselves up inside, to discourage any wandering pests or predators from getting too close. Finally, it was done. They collapsed together on the green leaves, sighing as they finally got a chance to relax from their exertions. "Oh, m' aching head," Remy moaned. Ororo pulled his head over and kissed his forehead. "Poor boy. You have had a rough day." "That I have," he said, smiling faintly at her, "but no harder dan yours." He hugged her tightly, and returned the gesture affectionately. "I managed to avoid having my head nearly split open by a rock," she responded dryly. "True. But then, I always had a much harder head dan you," he grinned, and she giggled. "I think that I shall not argue with that assessment." "Hey now, y' not supposed to agree wit' me!" But his voice was light and teasing, and she just snuggled closer to his warmth. He sighed, and gave up fighting his weariness. Ororo woke some indeterminate time later to a voice in her mind. A very welcome voice. Jean Grey-Summers' voice came from nowhere. Jean? Can you hear me? Ororo thought back, as "loudly" as she could. Is that where we are? I had wondered. Remy and I were kidnapped by the Friends of Humanity. I am uncertain of their purpose, but we managed to escape. Unfortunately, we have not yet managed to remove the inhibitor collars with which they attempted to restrain us. Remy had always been difficult for telepaths to locate. He is fine, Jean. He has a bump on his head, but no signs of concussion, so he is sleeping off the headache he undoubtedly has. And we both have a rather remarkable assortment of cuts, bruises and scrapes, but I believe that our location is sufficiently well-hidden to allow us to remain here safely. How long will it take for you to retrieve us? Very well. Shall we simply stay where we are, or try to rendezvous with you in another location? Thank you, my sister.... Ororo dropped off to sleep again. She awakened this time to her own murmur of encouragement as warm male hands drifted lazily over her body, caressing intimately over her hips, her waist. Not really fully conscious of anything but the warm, lean body curled up beside her, of strong, graceful hands running over her, of a scent utterly familiar filling her nostrils. Of hard muscles under coarse cloth, and a rich baritone voice sighing in pleasure as she touched him, allowed him to touch her, hands growing bolder, breaths coming quicker, voices deepening in passion. "Stormy," the whisper came. "Oh, mon couer..." And then warm lips claiming hers, so soft, so knowing, so loving, that her breath stopped and her heart hammered as if she were in battle, but there was no battle here, no wish to resist something that felt so ultimately right. Her skin thrilled with electricity unmatched by even the most powerful lightning as his hands deftly slipped the rough materiel of the stolen uniform from her sensitized skin, as her hands, trembling slightly, returned the favor. His mouth left hers, to trail along her chin, up to her earlobe, where he nibbled and sucked with tantalizing delicacy. His hands went down to cup her breasts, teasing her nipples. His lips began to tickle their way down her throat, and she arched her slender brown neck, encouraging him to continue, her hands tangling in his auburn hair. The heat was incredible, blazing like the desert sun against her skin. Her legs, tangled with his, parted, welcoming the hard heat of his manhood against her stomach. His cock rubbed lightly, tantalizingly, across her entrance, hands and mouth and tongue all busy arousing her even further, more than she'd ever dreamed she could be. a dryly familiar masculine voice said in their minds. In a telepathic mutter they weren't entirely sure they were supposed to hear, Cable grumbled, "Oh, merde," Remy said, torn between laughter and frustrated anger. "I t'ink maybe we better do what our resident Summers says. Dis time." Ororo giggled, amused despite her thwarted arousal by the disgusted note in his voice. "It might be advisable, padnat." "Heh. T'ought you were gonna try to talk me into behaving, not convince me t' just say the hell wit' it." She punched him lightly in the ribs, and he yelped in mock-pain. "What that for, Stormy?" "For threatening to put me in a very compromising situation. And do not call me Stormy." For all her bluster, she was smiling. "Now get off me, we need to get dressed before the entire team shows up and finds us stark naked." He snickered. "Hey, not like eit'er one of us got anyt'ing t' be ashamed of," he said irrepressibly, but rolled off her nevertheless. He began rummaging through the leaves they lay upon, shaking them out of their stolen clothing as best he could. By the time the rest of the team arrived, Ororo and Remy were presentable. And if they were more than a little rumpled and dirty, no one was surprised. They had just escaped from a pack of homicidal bigots, after all. It was expected that they would be a little mussed. ***** Two days passed. The X-Men had destroyed the FOH base with relative ease. Remy's goose-egg was the worst of their injuries, but Ororo was worried. As soon as they had returned and Remy had made certain that everything was in order with the team, he had retreated to the roof. As far as anyone could tell, he'd been up there the whole time. This is too much. She used the winds that were her birthright to lift herself to the roof. He had been brooding long enough. More than long enough. I had thought that he was enjoying the experience quite as much as I, she thought worriedly. Surely he did not feel that I would attempt to pressure him into any kind of commitment? I know better. He has ever been cautious of such entanglements, and nothing will drive him away more quickly than attempting to hold him too close. I value his friendship far too much to risk it so. She landed lightly on the roof, crystal-blue eyes finding him almost instantly. She walked over to him with a hesitancy that belied her usual leonine grace. "Remy?" His knees were drawn up to his chest, crossed arms resting on them. His eyes gazed out over the mansion's grounds. Without turning, he answered her. "Ororo." "I... am sorry, my friend. I had not thought that you would react so to what we did." He turned his head to look at her, exotic red-on-black eyes boring in to her. "Why not? Y' t'ink that just because I got a rep f' sleeping around, I wouldn't care that I could have done y' wrong?" His voice was weary, but there was no anger in it. "Done me wrong?" "Gettin' somebody pregnant that's not looking t' get pregnant isn't generally considered a p'ticularly gentlemanly t'ing to do. And in dis house, even I wouldn't give much f' my odds of getting out of that situation wit' my balls intact." His voice was very dry, but there was a twinkle of humor in his eyes. "But that's not what kept me up here dis long. I settled that wit'in the first hour." She settled down beside him, her white dress forming a lovely pool around her trim brown ankles, contrasting with the golden anklets she wore above her bare feet. "If that was not what was bothering you, then why have you been on the roof for the past forty-one hours?" "T'inking. `Bout you. `Bout me. `Bout the t'ings I've done an' you've done. `Bout the day that you literally dropped into my life." He smiled at that thought. "Fishing you outta that pool the smartest t'ing I ever done, Stormy." "I certainly appreciated the gesture," she said warmly. "Even if you do deliberately provoke me by calling me Stormy." "T'ing is, I've been wondering why the hell I'm such a fool. Y' the best t'ing that ever happened to dis Cajun boy, and I haven't the slightest idea why I been running from that for all dese years." She looked at him, eyes wide and wondering. Does he mean... oh, Goddess, please, oh Bright Lady let him mean what I think he means! "You... really think so?" He smiled at her, tilted her head up slightly and kissed her, long and lingering and gentle. "Oui. I really t'ink so. I'm tired of hiding what I'm feeling from you. An' from myself. I love you, Ororo. Je t'aime." She smiled back up at him, and felt his gaze upon her like sunshine on her face. "I love you too, my friend." Then her eyes lit up with mischief. "And call me Stormy." He laughed and kissed her again. ****************** ******************