Ange tombé (Fallen angel)

Author  Morgana

PAIRING  Gambit/Iceman

DISCLAIMERS  Gambit and X-Men is ©copyright of Marvel Comics. No 
copyright infringement is intended.

	Ange tombé


	Prologue.


	Cold... ice... frozen... Would the torment ever end? When 
would it kill him? How many hours? How many more days before he 
would succumb to the cold? Time meant nothing now, as he laid 
here wrapped up in this white blanket of ice crystals. He'd 
tried to get to his feet, had tried to find a landmark that 
would tell him where he was, but surrounded by blinding ice, 
captured by its tendrils, he realized deep down in his heart 
that it wouldn't let him go. Finally something had caught this 
thief and it would never release him again. 
	Cold... His body was frozen, paralyzed and all he could do 
was to stare at the sky as the moon and stars appeared, driving 
away the little comfort the sun had offered him. 
	Remy knew he couldn't survive another night. His fingers 
refused to move, to feel the structure of the ice beneath them 
as they were frozen themselves. Frostbite. Which parts of his 
body hadn't yet surrendered to death? And still he was hanging 
in there by the skin of his teeth, fighting to stay alive. 
	Cold... His mind was going numb along with the descending 
darkness, but his body was still struggling to remain alive. 
Tongue frozen to lips, he couldn't close his eyes. He'd faced 
death many times, but it had never scared him this much. To die 
here, alone... all alone... Loneliness frightened him, actually 
hurt on a physical level. 
	He'd never told the others about his charm power, and that 
he was sometimes capable of picking up emotions, reading them, 
sending them back to help, comfort, or release the anger people 
bottled up inside. All he heard now was the pounding of his own 
heart, his panic and rage... his helplessness. 
	Cold... Her heart had to be colder than the ice of the 
Antarctica. She'd said she loved him and yet she'd left him here 
to die and the others hadn't come back for him either. Why would 
they? After all, he'd betrayed them, betrayed the Morlocks. He 
was no longer one of them, no longer an X-Man and he wondered... 
had he ever been one of them? He'd always felt the outsider. 
	Cold... had been their jokes, the remarks he had overheard 
when he had gotten home late. They'd always assumed he'd been 
intimate with someone, man or woman. One night he'd 
eavesdropped, standing in the corridor, and had heard Warren 
call him a whore... It had hurt.


	Strange, the things you remember when you are dying.


	He'd always hidden behind his walls, afraid for them to 
learn the truth he felt so ashamed of and thus they had drawn 
their own conclusions. But, he rather had them call him a whore 
than a traitor...  Seemed he was both, now... If only he could 
grin at fate which had played him so cruelly. 
	Cold... he shivered as the chill climbed up his body. He no 
longer sensed his feet, legs, or hands. How much longer before 
it reached his heart? When would it end? 
	Why did he have to die alone? A muffled scream left his 
lips as he tried to find something alive in this horrid cold.  
Never before had he used his mental abilities in this manner, 
had never stretched them this far. And still there was 
nothing... nothing. 
	"Mon fils, y're safe." Jean-Luc... his voice was warm. It 
always had been. Remy wished he'd had a chance to tell his 
father good-bye and the rest of the family. While living with 
the LeBeau clan he'd experienced love and acceptance for the 
first time in his short life. It hadn't mattered to them that 
Jean-Luc had adopted him, that he wasn't his flesh and blood... 
that he was a mutant. His eyes had instantly given him away. 
	Desperately he reached for the memories, for the feelings, 
the affection, his father's pride as he'd earned his membership 
to the Thieves Guild.


	Hours drifted by and the cold was still increasing. It had 
now firmly slithered inside his bones. If he could only charge 
something with his energy! Its warmth might keep him alive a 
little longer. 
	Mon Dieu, he'd never craved being alive as badly as now and 
vowed to fight to the end... which would come soon. The starlit 
sky had darkened and he realized he was slowly losing conscious. 
This was the end. 
	"What are you doing here?" 
	A voice? Hovering at the edge of consciousness he picked up 
strong feelings, emotions... something alive... 
	"Well, you can answer that one later." 
	Struggling to hold on to this spark of warmth Remy refused 
to give in to the inhumane cold. He had to fight it! Not yet, he 
couldn't give up yet... had to stay awake... not yet... but 
oblivion came anyway.

 
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