TITLE: Rough Trade and the Thief

AUTHOR: Scorpio

ARCHIVE: Want. Take. Have. (it's what Gambit would do)

FANDOM: X-Men [AU]

PAIRING: Robert "Ice" Drake/Remy "Gambit" LeBeau

RATING: NC-17 (overall)

DISCLAIMER: Stan Lee is God of the Marvel Universe and I am just a lowly worshipper.

NOTE: The expression "Rough Trade" referrers to a male prostitute who is willing to indulge a trick's fetishes and kinks, specifically BDSM...

~WARNING~: In this story, Remy is 18 and Bobby is 16 years old. They are both street kids and they have sex. Together. If that bothers you, use your delete key.

SUMMARY: We all know that 12 year old Bobby was arrested by the police after being chased by a lynch mob and then Professor X sent Scott Summers to break him out of jail. But what would have happened if Bobby never even made it to the jail, what if he had escaped into the night?


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Rough Trade and the Thief
by Scorpio
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- prologue -

Bobby huddled down behind the large metal dumpster in the darkness, shivering with fear, tears of hopelessness dripping down his face. The past few hours had taken it's toll on him, bruising his soul and breaking his heart. Now, he was left with a clawing emptiness and a desperate sense of loss.

For almost a year now, Bobby had been working hard to suppress his burgeoning mutant powers, to control the surges of COLD that radiated from his body. Bobby pushed himself to fit into the strict and limiting model of "normalcy" that his father William Drake advocated. It hadn't been an easy battle, and he had often felt isolated and alone while struggling with an overwhelming problem, but by the time his twelfth birthday rolled around, he was doing a lot better.

His life had seemed to get back onto the course his parents had set for him. He was accepted into the advanced math program at school like his father wanted and he was going out to social events with the daughter of one of his mother's friends. Most importantly, his mutation was firmly suppressed.

Then, while escorting Judy home from a date their mothers had set up, disaster struck. Some older neighborhood bullies had caught them and began to harass and insult them. Bobby had been frightened and embarrassed, but it wasn't until one of them had caused Judy to cry out in pain that his anger flared up. And just that quick, his shaky control over the COLD within him dissolved away. He reacted instinctively and coated the bullies in a thick layer of solid ice.

In an instant, *he*, not the bullies, became the bad guy. Judy's shrieks and cries of "Mutant! Oh God, he's a mutant!" brought people running from their homes. No one cared that Bobby had merely been defending himself and Judy. No one wanted to hear his side of the story. Not even Judy.

The crowd of people only understood their own fear and anger, their own ignorance and prejudice. Within a matter of moments, Bobby watched as that crowd of people transformed into a lynch mob that wanted to punish him, hurt him, hang him from the neck until dead.

Bobby ran.

Directly into the waiting arms of the cops that had been called in to "deal with and take down" the "dangerous" mutant running loose around town. Inadvertently and unknowingly saving Bobby from the lynch mob, they roughly shoved him into the back of their squad car and drove away, heading for the town's jail.

Sitting in the back of the police car, his emotions bouncing from fear to anger to confusion to despair and back again, Bobby did not find a respite from unthinking hatred and fear. Instead, trapped behind a mesh wire partition, Bobby was forced to listen as the cops calmly discussed one of the more recent rumors that was circulating around the criminal underground. Apparently, there were people willing to pay a lot of money to get their hands on mutant children. Enough money for two overworked and underpaid cops to retire early on.

They didn't know what these shadowy criminals wanted the mutant children for. Medical and scientific experiments, paramilitary testing and application or even slave labor for foreign powers were only a few of the guesses made by the two cops. What's more, they didn't really care. In fact, they made it perfectly clear that they only saw Bobby as a sudden and unexpected financial opportunity. One that the community at large wouldn't worry about if he mysteriously disappeared.

Bobby spent the ride in a mix of mindless terror and righteous anger. As soon as the car stopped, the two cops got out and walked to the back so that they could open the door and escort Bobby inside the jail. Not really thinking, but merely reacting, Bobby blasted them with an intense wave of COLD. Instantly, both cops froze solid, glittering under the bright flood lights. Surprised by this, but not willing to let his only chance at escape slip away, Bobby tried to squeeze between the two frozen cops.

To his absolute horror, he accidentally tipped them over and watched in stunned silence as they shattered into a thousand bits and pieces across the asphalt. For one long and painful moment Bobby stared at the slowly melting remains of the two cops that he had just killed. Then a loud ringing shout pulled him from his own mind.

"Hey! You there! Freeze!"

The horrible ugly irony of their words brought a bark of hysterical laughter to his lips as he did just what they told him to. He froze. Literally. Coated in a thin sheath of ice, Bobby turned and ran as fast as he could. Ignoring the shouts of "Stop! Police!" and "Hurry up and catch the mutie cop-killer!" while dodging bullets, he soon found himself lost and alone.

Hiding behind a rusty metal dumpster in a dark and dirty alleyway.

At the moment, Bobby only had one vague thought in his head, and that was to escape the police search parties that were still looking for him. He knew that he was close to a commuter train station that would led him directly into New York City. If he could just get there, then he knew that he could easily hide among the masses of humanity.

And besides, it wasn't as if he could ever go home again. Right?


Chapter One

- 4 years later -

Remy LeBeau parked his Harley Davidson in the dim shadows nearest the alley and made sure that his sunglasses were on tight. He ran his fingers through his wind tangled hair in an effort to tame it and then swung his right leg up and around so that he could get off of the motorcycle. Pulling his trenchcoat back into it's smooth lines and adjusting his too loose jeans over his rail thin frame, he stepped up to the front door of the dive.

The lighting was dim and the air was smokey, the sounds of muted conversation and clinking glass nearly drowned out by the harsh rock and roll pouring out of the cheap sound system. Keeping his expression blank from long practice, Remy sauntered over to the bar, careful not to touch the burn scarred and sticky surface. Sitting down on a stool and pulling a cigarette out, Remy smiled a charming smile at the bartender.

"Bourbon neat, mon ami."

The bartender raised an eyebrow at him, but if it was due to his obvious underage status or his thick Cajun accent, Remy didn't know. However, the man didn't say anything, he just poured the drink and wandered away to talk to another customer.

Turning around on his stool so that he could watch the patrons of the bar, and incidentally the front and back doors, Remy sipped at his drink. Slowly, he let his eyes roam over the room, studying, learning, observing.

There, in the back of the room by the pool tables, was a vision in tight black leather pants and an unbuttoned blue satin shirt. The boy was even younger then Remy, but his eyes held just as many shadows. His dark blonde hair was a riot of gelled spikes and silver glitter was sprinkled into it liberally. It was difficult to tell from across the room, but it appeared as if the boy's nipples were pierced. He was thin, but toned and just a little on the bruised side. Everything about him, from his well worn, yet sexy clothing to his outwardly cautious and inwardly broken eyes fairly screamed "Rough Trade" to Remy. And he had spent enough years living on the streets to recognize another gutter rat when he saw one.

The boy's head turned slightly until he was facing Remy, slowly his eyes lifted and swept over the Cajun. He could almost feel the weight of that calculating stare as a slow predator's grin crept over that beautiful and painfully young face. Pushing away from the post he'd been leaning against, the boy began to walk over, his stride filled with sensual promises.

Remy smiled as the boy sidled up to him, a seductive grin on his own face. The boy ran the fingertips of one hand down his own bare chest, and gasped in a tiny flutter of breath when he inadvertently tugged his own nipple ring. Licking his lips, the boy peered up at Remy through thick eyelashes and he leaned in close. However, before the boy could say anything, the bartender stomped his way over and scowled at them.

"Damn it Ice! If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred fucking times. No hustling in my bar. Go turn tricks on the corner if you want, but keep it out of here."

The boy, Ice, growled back at the bartender, ignoring the few laughs and chuckles from the patrons. They were obviously regulars who had heard this exchange before. Ice, however, wasn't impressed and he let it be known.

"Don't fuck with me Tank. You know damn well that you do good business selling that watered down crap to the johns that come here looking for me, so don't act like I ain't doing you a favor by hanging out in here. One of these days you're gonna piss me off and you're gonna regret it, man."

The bartender glowered right back.

"You threatening me, Ice? How about I call the cops?"

Ice snorted as if amused, but Remy detected the slight flinch at the threat.

"You go do that Tank. I won't be the only one in here that the pigs'd like to get their hands on. You included. So tell it to someone that threat will actually scare."

Tank took in a breath as if to start yelling some more, but Remy didn't want to hear it. Instead, he reached out and ran a single fingertip along the line of one of Ice's ribs. As if flicking a switch, Ice's demeanor once again became soft and fluid as he leaned into the gentle touch and a smile slid across his face. It was seductive on one level, but on another it bothered Remy. The boy was a well trained professional and it showed.

"Ice, folle. Why don' choo come wit' Gambit. He want t' go somewhere alone wit' choo fo' a while."

Ice smiled up at him and Remy couldn't help but return it.

"No problem... uh, Gambit is it?"

Remy brushed his fingertips along Ice's chest until he came to the silver nipple ring, then he tugged it gently. Ice gasped and leaned into the sensation. Remy could feel the boy's budding arousal with his empathy.

"Oui, folle. Gambit is de name."

Bobby nodded, a suddenly serious look crossing his face as his eyes narrowed.

"So... Gambit. What you want tonight, huh?"

Remy tilted his head slightly and pretended to think about it for a quick moment.

"Gambit wan' choo mout' fo' sure. Mebbe dat sweet ass as well, non?"

Ice nodded, his expression still serious, doing business.

"Fine. Twenty bucks for a blowjob. Forty for my ass. You want it rough, the price goes up to seventy-five. You want me to bleed for you, it's an even hundred. Got it?"

Remy's heart squeezed at the list of prices that the boy was willing to sell himself for and the cool nonchalant way in which he rattled them off. He had been spared this fate by Jean-Luc LeBeau taking him in and giving him a home and a way of life that didn't involve him sleeping with strangers for money, but he *had* done it. A few times... before, when he wasn't able to steal enough. And for some reason it tore him up inside to see this boy living the life he almost had.

"Oui, mon folle. Gambit un'erstands."

The bartender, however, was less than amused by this exchange.

"Out! Get out of here Ice. I warned you and now you've done it. Just take your trick and get the fuck out of my place."

Remy turned to face the bartender and reached up to slide his sunglasses down slightly on his nose. He let the man get a good look at his burning red on black eyes, smirking when he hissed and stepped back.

"Ta gueule, encule'! Que tu es emmerdant!"

Pushing his sunglasses back into place, Remy turned away from the bartender, downed the rest of his bourbon and then wrapped an arm around Ice. Smirking, he led the way out of the smokey bar and into the night.


Chapter Two


Ice followed the taller man out of Tank's bar and into the shadowy parking lot. The man, Gambit, led him in the direction of the alley and a smirk flitted across Ice's face. He liked the look of this trick. Tall, beautiful as an angel or the devil might be, street tough and that voice was so exotic... *erotic* that Ice wondered if he wouldn't have wanted him even if it wasn't for the money.

Ice let out a quiet snort and shook his head to clear it of any of those stupid "Julia Roberts, Pretty Woman" fantasies. It was a nice thought, but shit like that didn't happen in real life. Tricks didn't fall in love with hustlers and they most certainly didn't take them off of the streets and give 'em a better life. Best to leave that thinking behind and just get on with it.

As soon as they reached the mouth of the alley, Gambit reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of stuff. Ice didn't even bother wondering about the keys or the deck of cards, instead, he snagged the $20 on top and kept walking into the alley. Gambit seemed to stumble for a brief second and flashed him a confused looked.

"Ice, homme?"

Ice just grinned over his shoulder and gestured for the man to follow. Gambit gave him a good hard look, shrugged, then grinned and followed. As soon as they were in the deeper shadows, Ice turned and stopped.

A gentle shove was all it took to get the taller man to lean against the dirty brick wall and then Ice was sliding to his knees in front of him. He ran his hands down Gambit's chest, over his narrow hips and along the lean lines of his thighs. The taller man shivered slightly.

"Ice, folle. Non, choo don' havta do dis fo' Gambit."

For a brief second, Ice paused and looked up through his eyelashes at the other man. Slowly and deliberately, he slid the $20 into his pants pocket. The other man didn't complain or demand it back, so Ice grinned. Then he leaned forward slightly and nuzzled his face against Gambit's crotch, feeling him grow hard under the rough denim.

"Merde!"

Reaching up with one hand, Ice slowly unzipped the trick's jeans, a sizzle of delight going through him as soon as he realized that the taller man wasn't wearing anything under them. From a practical point of view, it made his job easier. It was also just a tad on the naughty side and Ice liked naughty. Peeling the front flaps of the denim wider, he carefully exposed Gambit's cock and balls. The trick moaned in that smokey smooth voice that Ice liked.

Carefully and gently fondling the ginger furred balls in his hand, Ice leaned forward and ran his tongue up the length of the hard cock in front of his face. Musk, spice and just a hint of sweat, a strong male flavor to be sure, but not pungent and unclean. Ice was beyond grateful. Not that he would have stopped or complained, but he really appreciated good hygiene in a trick.

Ice ran his tongue up and down the shaft several times to the accompaniment of moans and softly whispered words that were half in English and half in some other language that Ice suspected might be French. He wasn't too sure what the man was saying, but it sounded pretty. Then, he reached the crown and sucked the tip into his mouth, running his tongue under the man's foreskin in a smooth quick circle as if he was rimming it. Gambit gasped and shuddered under him.

"Mon Dieu, il est bein. C'est canon, folle. Vraiment!"

Ice wasn't too sure what Gambit was babbling, but when he looked up at his face through his eyelashes, the older man seemed to have an expression of enjoyment on his face, so he didn't stop. Instead, he gently used his lips to push the trick's foreskin back, exposing the darkly flushed crown. He licked at it and sucked down on it, mindful of his teeth. Then, taking a deep breath and consciously relaxing his throat, Ice leaned forward, letting the long thin cock slide down passed his suppressed gag reflex until his nose was buried in curly red pubic hair.

"Merde!"

Gambit shuddered and his hips gave an involuntary jerk forward, but Ice was ready for that. Letting go of the taller man's balls, Ice reached out with both hands until he found Gambit's. Then he drew them to his head and gently tangled them in his blonde hair. He pulled back his head, letting the hard cock slide back out of his throat and breathed in through his nose, then he slid back down on it again, taking it in all of the way. And paused.

It didn't take very long for the trick to pick up his intentions and the fingers in his hair clamped down only a little tighter as those narrow hips began to pump. Slowly at first, but than faster and faster as the man began to fuck his face. Ice licked with his tongue and sucked in with his cheeks even as he concentrated on timing his breathing with the cock sliding out of his throat. Wouldn't do to choke on a customer, now would it? You never knew how they would react to that.

Using his hands, Ice gently fondled Gambit's balls, rolling the furry sack in his hands and tugging on it slightly. This caused another babbling flood of broken English and French to pour from the other man's lips and Ice liked the reaction. Feeling a tad bold, Ice reached with one finger and rubbed against Gambit's perineum, pressing against the outside of his prostate.

"Foutre!"

Ice felt the trick's entire body clench and then Gambit slammed his cock deep into his throat one last time and shuddered hard. Ice swallowed, the contractions of his throat milking the cock and practically pulling the cum right out of the taller man. A long low mewling sound echoed throughout the alley as Gambit pumped his seed down Ice's throat, and his fingers clenched tightly in his blonde hair.

Finally, after a long moment, those fingers loosened enough for Ice to pull back some. He licked and sucked on Gambit's softening cock to clean it up, then he let it slide back out of his mouth passed his bruised and swollen lips. Gently, he tucked the trick's cock and balls back into his jeans and zipped them back up.

Ice stood up, quickly brushing his hands across his knees and felt a long fingered and gentle hand brush against his cheek softly. He glanced up, a bit startled and confused only to meet a slow grin peeking out from under dark sunglasses.

"Come on, mon cher pute. Gambit not done wit' choo yet."

Ice raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

"Let's get some food 'cause Gambit is hun'ry. Den, mebbe we go some place a little... more inside, oui? Dis alley be too much ambiance fo' Gambit."

An amused smirk flashed across Ice's face and he nodded his head in agreement.

"Sure, man. I can eat."

Turning, Ice began to walk back towards the parking lot they had just left. Calling over his shoulder to the taller man, Ice grinned.

"And I'll have you know that this is one of the finer alley's in this fair city."

Gambit snorted.

"Dat so, mon folle?"

Ice nodded, a flash of real humor sparkling in his eyes.

"Yup."

Gambit sauntered passed Ice with his long legged stride. He stopped in front of a sweet cherry Harley Davidson Low Rider and swung a leg over. Inserting the keys that he had pulled from his pocket, he swung out the kick-start and fired her up. It sounded like a lion's roar that soon melted down into a sweet low purr. Ice grinned.

"Sweet ride."

Gambit flashed him a toothy smile and ran one hand down the gas tank lovingly.

"Oui. Dat she is, one sweet ride fo' Gambit."

The taller man's grin turned seductive and charming.

"But den, so are choo, eh Ice?"

Ice flashed his own seductive smile and nodded his head slightly as he walked over and straddled the bike behind Gambit. He wrapped his arms around the taller man tightly and pulled himself up close so that his chest lay flush to Gambit's back, his by now straining erection pushed tightly aginst the other man's ass.

"Yeah, babe. I'm one sweet ride. You got the cash, and I'll treat you good. Don't worry about that. Ice is the best you'll ever have."

Gambit laughed. It was a sound of amusement with just a touch of bitterness underneath. But before Ice could question it, Gambit pulled the bike out of the parking lot in a roar of finely tuned engine and a squeal of tires.

Chapter Three


Remy had only just arrived in the city of New York recently, so he wasn't as familiar with the streets, neighborhoods and the various territories as he would have liked. It had only been a month since his exile from N'Awlins and the Thieves Guild. Traveling aimlessly and living off of his savings from previous jobs, he had made his way up the coast, only stopping to eat, sleep and drink himself into oblivion. He had a vague idea of staying here in New York for a short time to enjoy the sights before turning west and heading for the far coast.

And now that he was here in the Big Apple what did he do? Go out trawling for hustlers. Not the brightest move he could have made, but by that point Gambit didn't really care. He just wanted a bit of fun and excitement to drown out the pain and loneliness that had been his sole companion since his duel with Julian. Not wanting to get lost, he had taken pains to follow direct routes and limit the number of turns he'd taken so that he could find his way back to his hotel easily.

With Ice on the back of his Low Rider holding on tight he was a little less worried about getting lost. Gambit would be willing to bet that the kid knew the entire city inside and out and if Gambit needed to get directions then he could get them from Ice. If not out of the goodness of his heart, then for a few bucks. When he himself had been younger and living on the streets of N'Awlins he had offered directions to lost tourists for a few dollars to buy himself a filling meal and Remy didn't think that this cynical hustler man-child would be any different.

However, he didn't head straight to his hotel. He had promised Ice a hot meal and he was hungry himself, so he headed towards an outdoor cafe' that he had passed earlier in the evening. Turning onto the main thoroughfare, Gambit let his thoughts drift. He idly wondered if he should try and get close to Ice so that he could show him that there was other ways to live and survive besides selling your body to the highest bidder. Jean-Luc had given Remy a chance to pull himself out of the gutter and he had been grateful for it. Maybe Ice would feel the same way. But then again, maybe he wouldn't appreciate someone poking around in his life and messing with his sense of self. It was hard to tell. It would certainly be simpler to just take what Ice was selling and enjoy it while it lasted and then head off on his own again.

Driving several blocks down the street, Gambit was pulled out of his own wandering thoughts by his empathy. Frowning slightly, he concentrated on that odd sensation of alien emotion that tickled over his brain and down his spine. Worry. Mild fear. Concern.. Anticipation. Starting small, these feelings were growing more intense by the minute. Gambit knew that they were coming from Ice, but he couldn't understand *why*. He himself had done nothing by word or deed that would indicate that he had violent plans for the boy and Ice had radiated confidence and mild lust in his presence earlier. So what had changed? Gambit wasn't sure, so he just sped up a little so that they would get to the cafe' faster. Once they were off the bike, they could talk and he could find out what was bothering the young street hustler.

It didn't take very long for the cafe' to come into view and Remy slowed down and swung over into the side lane. Grinning slightly, he pulled his motorcycle to a stop in a small space that no car could have fit in. Granted, the front wheel was aimed up at the sidewalk, but the back end of the bike didn't stick out into traffic, so Gambit wasn't worried. It wasn't the most legal parking job, but what did he care about following the law?

Turning off the Harley, Gambit nudged Ice to get off and then he slid off of it himself. Running his long fingers through his hair to settle it and reaching up to make certain his sunglasses were firmly in place, Gambit turned to face Ice. The boy's face was drawn up in a tight mask of indifference even though his eyes continuously scanned back and forth over the area. He was putting out even more intense pulses of caution and fear. Gambit frowned.

"Homme? Wha's wrong?"

Ice's blue eyes snapped to Gambit's and his expression was deadly serious.

"This isn't the best part of town to be caught in. We're right in the middle of Bull Dog territory. This is not a good thing."

Gambit's frown deepened as he glanced from the sidewalk cafe' to the hustler still standing by the Harley. A waitress in a stripped shirt that matched the awning overhead sauntered up with a pad in her hand. Remy smiled at her with his most charming smile even as his mind tried to figure out what Ice was hinting at.

"Can I get you something?"

"Oui, p'tite. Un turkey club, large fries an' a beer."

Gambit glanced over at Ice and noticed that the boy had slowly drifted closer, but that he was glaring at the waitress with suspicious eyes. Sighing internally, Gambit offered her a slight shrug and a soft grin.

"Bettah make dat two, eh chere?"

The waitress giggled and blushed before she turned away, an extra swish to her hips as she made her way inside the cafe' to place their order. His own grin falling away as he turned from the woman to face Ice again, he figured he'd try once again to make sense of his ramblings.

"Bull Dog territory, huh? And dis is not a good t'ing?"

Ice nodded, but didn't say anything. His eyes just went back to scanning the area. It was an amazing display of paranoia and Gambit didn't need his empathy to see that Ice felt exposed and out of place here. Sighing, he nodded his head. He had suffered enough run-ins with the street gangs back home in N'Awlins when he had made his home in an abandoned building to respect Ice's fear of being in the wrong place.

"Fine. We get our food and take it on de road."

Ice glanced up at Remy for a long moment and he felt as if those blue eyes were looking deep inside him. For a brief second, Gambit was tempted to put up an extra set of mental shields, but as far as he could tell, Ice wasn't probing him with any form of telepathy or empathy. He was just a street kid who had learned early and hard how to read people. He must have found what he was looking for, because Ice suddenly offered up a small grin and nodded his head in acceptance.

Leaning up against a light pole, Gambit alternately watched the people streaming by, the customers at the cafe' and Ice. The boy seemed to be high-strung and nervous, but not so obvious that you would notice if you didn't know to look for it. Reaching into his pocket to pull out his cigarettes, Gambit's quiet contemplation of the mystery that was Ice was shattered by a hoarse voice shouting out over the din of the diners.

"Look guys! That fucking mutie whore is *back* in our territory!"

Ice instantly stiffened up and flashed Gambit a look of real regret and fear before turning to face the boys that had just walked around the corner and slowly backing away. Suddenly Remy understood what had unnerved the boy so much about being here as the final pieces fell into place. It hadn't made sense that Ice would face down that bartender Tank to his face but then turn so timid about being at an outdoor cafe'. It wasn't his *profession* that was making him fearful, it was the fact that he was a mutant. Apparently, that was not accepted in this neighborhood.

Turning his head to look over at the boys that were striding towards them, Gambit saw that they ranged in age from what he assumed was Ice's age to his own. They were a typical street gang. Thugs in leather and with little to no concept of the real world, merely clinging to their own limited ideals with the tenacity of a dog with a bone. Dangerous, maybe even deadly in the right circumstance, but also easily left behind to fester in their own filth.

Gambit found himself facing a choice that he hadn't planned on making. He could step back and let Ice deal with this on his own. It was possible that the kid would get the shit kicked out of him, but it was also possible that he'd be able to get away. A person doesn't spend *that* much time on the streets before they learn how to get away from trouble when it comes looking for you. That would also end any chance of getting to know Ice and possibly making his first friend since he left N'Awlins. On the other hand, he could make a stand as a mutant himself and help Ice beat off these gang-members, risking his own life and limbs. It would tie Ice to him tighter than any quick bouncing between the sheets ever would.

"Look man. I'm not bothering anyone here. Just getting something to eat and then I'm leaving. So, just... you know. Back off."

The boy who seemed to be the leader of the gang laughed at Ice's quick explanation. It was loud and rough and it lacked any real mirth. A quick flick of his hands sent the other leather clad boys with him to fan out in a semi circle, blocking Ice back against a parked car.

"I don't care if you end up starving to *death*, you mutie freak. I told you before that you ain't supposed to step *one foot* in my territory. And yet, here you are."

The gang leader spread his arms wide, gesturing around him as if he was making an excellent point. The patrons of the outside cafe' were quickly gathering their things and abandoning their tables as they scattered. People were muttering and expressions were turning ugly, the word "mutant" ringing out often.

Looking on at the quickly deteriorating situation, Gambit sighed to himself and pulled out the cigarette that he had been reaching for. Two long legged strides brought him right over beside Ice. Reaching up with one hand, he pushed his sunglasses up off of his face and onto the top of his head, exposing his burning red on black eyes for all to see. Then, casually as can be, he put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it with a small kinetic charge.

"Choo got problems wit' mutants, homme? 'Cause Gambit, he gonna have t' take dat a little personal, eh?"

Ice startled slightly, but then flashed him a quick grin even as the gang members looked on in shock. It was obvious that they weren't used to anyone standing up to them.

"Told you this wasn't a good neighborhood. It's full of trash."

Ice gestured slightly to the gang members and Gambit grinned.

"Dat choo did, mon folle. Dat choo did."

The members of the Bull Dogs, however, didn't appreciate Ice's comments any more than they liked the fact that two mutants had invaded the area that they had claimed as their own. The leader balled up one hand into a fist and then punched it into the flat of his other hand. As if that was an unspoken signal, violence erupted around them.

Two of the gang members dove at Ice and he went down in a tumble with them. Three of the other's charged towards Remy. Not even thinking, he charged his cigarette and spit it out at one of them. It was a low charge, not enough to kill, but it exploded against the kid's leather jacket and sent him flying backwards out of the fight. That left two for Gambit to fight. Much better odds.

Ducking under a punch, Remy kicked out with his right foot. He felt his boot connect to something solid and he heard the whoosh of air out of a set of lungs. Twisting around in a spin, Gambit caught a quick look over at Ice. He immediately understood where the hustler's nickname came from. The blonde was literally coated in a sheen of sparkling crackling ice and one of his opponent's had both of his booted feet encased in a huge block of ice. That boy was currently trying to break the ice and free himself even as the other gang member punched Ice right on the jaw.

Then Remy's attention was pulled back to his own opponents as he jumped up and over a chair that came flying towards him from the center of the outside cafe'. He landed several feet away from his attacker. Reaching into one of his many pockets, he pulled out several playing cards and charged them with a low dose of kinetic energy. He tossed them in front of him in a wide arc and leaped backwards out of the range of the explosion. One of the Bull Dogs went flying through the air to land on the hood of a parked car.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a throwing knife came whistling through the air. Gambit could hear it, but he couldn't sense it because there was far too much commotion happening around him and it was messing with his spatial awareness. He tried to drop and let it pass over him, but he wasn't fast enough. With the sickening sound of wet meat being split, white-hot pain blossomed across his back. Agony sizzling along his entire body, Remy felt his knees buckle from the pain and for a second he thought that he was going to throw up. Then a heartrending cry filled the air. Ice.

"NOOOOO!!!"

Gambit had just enough strength to open his eyes and watch as Ice literally turned into his namesake. Then, in a wave of crackling ice and unspeakable cold, the gang members were encased in large jagged blocks of ice one by one. His mind absently noted that their leather clad attackers would die of suffocation trapped in their icy prisons if the intense cold hadn't already killed them, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about that very much. He was too busy bleeding his life out onto the cold wet cement sidewalk.

Then Ice was there, back to healthy pink flesh, his blue eyes wild with panic as the boy leaned over him.

"Oh man! Fuck! You're *not* going to die. You *hear* me Gambit! Not from stepping in to try and save *my* ass from a beating, you're not."

Before he could gasp in enough air to say anything, Ice was quickly yanking the knife out of his lower back and peeling his trenchcoat off of him. Turning him over carefully, Gambit heard Ice suck in a quick gasp of air.

"Is it bad, mon ami?"

His own voice was hissed between teeth clenched tight against the pain. When he answered, Ice's voice was shaky, but with an underlying tone of hope.

"Uh... yeah. It's bad. But don't worry too much. Healer can fix this. I just have to keep you alive long enough to get you to Healer. Then you'll be fine. Honest."

Then Ice was pealing off his own satin shirt and balling it up against the knife wound on Gambit's back, pressing it tightly to stop the bleeding. Gambit could feel himself getting dizzy from the pain and the blood loss.

"Who, cher?"

Ice ignored him and glanced around.

"Fuck!"

Then Ice shifted. Moving his hand away from the pressure bandage, he replaced it with his knee. Grabbing up the knife that had been sunk in Remy's back, Ice used it to cut away Gambit's t-shirt and then to quickly rip it into strips. Pulling his knee off of the satin pressure bandage, Ice used the torn t-shirt to hold his own shirt in place by wrapping the strips tightly around Remy's waist. Then, leaning back, he helped Gambit get his trenchcoat back on again.

"Come on, man. I gotta get you to Healer. *Now*. Gimme your keys."

Gambit paused for a brief second, measuring and considering the man-child before him. He could only sense sincerity and worry for him as well as the need to hurry. Nodding his head, Remy reached into his jean's pocket and pulled out the keys to his Harley.. He handed them and his life over to Ice.

Chapter Four


The motorcycle ride through the city streets of New York was hellish. A simple trick had suddenly turned into a living nightmare of desperate fear, smoldering anger and unfair oppression. Ice could only imagine how much worse it must be for Gambit. The tall thin mutant had already lost a lot of blood from the stab wound in his back and the makeshift bandage that Ice made from both of their shirts had only managed to slow down the blood loss, not stop it. On top of all that, Ice was willing to bet his last dollar that the rough vibrations from the rumbling motorcycle engine was sending shooting sparks of intense agony through Gambit's injury.

To make matters worse, the last remnants of the once innocent boy Ice used to be was suffering a moral crisis. His inner Bobby, that quiet soft spoken voice of compassion and hope that lived deep inside his mind was patently horrified over what he had done. He had killed people. Murdered them in cold blood.

Yes, the Bull Dogs were stupid, ignorant thugs who were most likely affiliated with the FOH somehow. They were dangerous, arrogant and rude, but did that give Ice the right to murder them? And they were dead, of that he was positive. Over the years, he had learned enough control over his powers that he could immobilize someone in a sheath of ice without killing them. Yet he had deliberately frozen the gang-members. Solid.

His only excuse was that he had panicked when he watched Gambit go down with a Bull Dog knife stuck in his back. Freaking out like that was something that Ice felt he was too experienced to do, but he *had* freaked. Over Gambit. Ice wasn't sure if it was because he was drawn to the taller man's good looks, whiskey smooth voice and easy laid back style or if it was simply because the other man had revealed himself as a fellow mutant. On the streets and in the gutter of the Big Apple, mutants had to stick together. They didn't *have* anyone else to lean on. Perhaps it was something more personal. After all, when was the last time someone, anyone, had risked their own necks for him? Ice couldn't remember. Gambit could have left him to face the Bull Dogs alone, but he didn't. Unasked, the tall sexy man had stood up to be counted at Ice's side.

And now, because of that, he was slowly bleeding his life away. He wouldn't die though, not if Ice had anything to say about it. Ice refused to let the handsome mutant die for him, nor did he want those Bull Dog gang-members' deaths to be for nothing. And if Gambit died from his stab wound, then those murders were in vain. Ice had too much blood on his hands as it was, he didn't need more deaths on his conscious.

As the landscape around them began to change, Ice pulled himself out of his circular and morbid thoughts. He needed to focus on the next part of their journey and he didn't think that Gambit would be up to helping too much. As it was, the only thing keeping Gambit on the bike was the fact that the man's arms were around Ice's waist where his wrists were tied tightly together.

Pulling into an old abandoned warehouse, Ice drove around some tumbled and broken crates and into the warren of rusty stacks and shelving units towards the back. Screeching to a stop in a far corner, Bobby turned off the motorcycle and began to frantically untie Gambit's hands. Time was of the essence and before he had even managed to get the taller mutant off of the bike, he was yelling for assistance.

"Shadow! Trance! I need help here!"

Carefully manhandling the unconscious mutant off of the motorcycle, Ice didn't see the two small bundles of dirty rags and large eyes peering out at him from the gloom.

"Shadow! Trance! Are you two here at all? I need you!"

The deep gloom around the two small figures rolled back a bit to reveal two dirty street children standing there. The shorter one stepped forward in front of the darker one.

"Hey Ice. What's...um, what's with your friend? He hurt?"

Ice glanced over at the two children and sighed with relief. Street orphans, they had been taken in by the very woman that he had brought Gambit to see. All three of them were obvious mutants and were therefore very leery of venturing out into the streets, so they depended on being able to trade services to those mutants that could pass for human for the necessities of life. The woman that Ice was looking for was known simply as Healer and that's just what she did. She healed.

"Yeah. He's hurt bad and I need to take him to see Healer. She in?"

The smaller child nodded his head and pointed behind him towards the hidden entrance to Healer's lair. The darker child just blinked. He never spoke and Ice didn't even know if he *could* talk.

"Good. Look, could you two hide the bike for me? Make sure no one steels it while I go see if Healer can help my friend?"

The smaller child looked back to the darker one and there was a silent exchange before the smaller child turned back and smiled.

"Shadow will hide it, but he wants a pizza as payment. Deal?"

Ice nodded and began to carry Gambit back towards the entrance to Healer's hideout. He called back over his shoulder to the two children.

"Deal. I'll even get a topping for it. Decide what you want. I'll get it while I go out to get Healer's payment. I'll be back."

Ice didn't bother to watch as a deep dark shadow crept out from the walls and across the floor. He didn't notice when those shadows washed over the Harley Davidson that was Gambit's pride and joy, hiding it from curious eyes that might be looking for anything out of place. Instead, he was dividing his attention between carrying Gambit and navigating his way down dimly lit concrete stairs that descended deep beneath the building and led to a series of underground tunnels which ran under the city.

Those tunnels were the home of those mutants that could never safely venture above ground and into the light of day. Ice had often spent time down there, especially when the weather turned bitter or when he needed to remove himself from the streets for various reasons for a while. They were the closest thing he had to friends in this ugly and ruthless city and he was far from the only mutant street hustler that associated themselves with the Morlocks.

Eventually, the smooth manmade corridors gave way to the rough raw stone of the tunnels. In some places the tunnels were natural and in others there were signs of them being worked and widened by a variety of tools. A single string of electrical wire with the occasional hanging lightbulb ran along the ceiling and the floor was damp. Turning the last corner, Ice called out ahead of him.

"Healer! You home? Got a patient for you. Healer?"

A shuffling sound from up ahead echoed back down the tunnel before a thin stooped woman in ragged second hand clothing appeared around the corner. At one time she might have been considered a rare beauty, but time and events had weathered and aged her harshly. Her blue skin was pale from lack of sunlight and she was stooped from years of living underground. She was thin and withered looking and it was painfully obvious that she didn't eat regularly. Her lips were twisted into a bitter smile and her dark eyes were haunted, but she was always gentle with other mutants. It was humans that held her scorn.

"Ice? Is that you, child?"

Moving as fast as he could without dropping Gambit or bashing him off of the uneven tunnel walls, Ice slid around Healer and moved into her personal lair without even blinking an eye at the lack of invitation.

"Yeah, Healer, it's me. My friend here's been stabbed. Bull Dogs got 'em in the back for the crime of being a mutant. Can you fix him?"

Healer's breath hissed out from between clenched teeth as soon as Ice's words registered in her mind, but she shoved her anger aside quickly and gestured to one of the army issue cots set up against the wall of the small hovel.

"Set him down on Shadow's bed and show me where the wound is. If it's shallow enough and fresh enough, I should be able to help him. If not...I may be able to at least do enough for you to get him to a human healer."

Ice snorted. He didn't think a human doctor would be bothered with Gambit. The man's eyes would identify him as a mutant too easily, besides you could never tell how a mutant would react to human medicine. Healer was Gambit's only hope and they both knew it.

Together they were able to peel off the leather trench coat that Gambit was wearing and then position him on his stomach on the small cot. Once he was settled, Healer gently unwrapped the makeshift bloody bandage and peered at the wound, first with her dark eyes and then she shut her eyes and held one wrinkled hand an inch or two over the wound. Ice wasn't sure how she did what she did, but he knew that it worked. Finally, Healer lowered her hand and looked over at him.

"I can heal him, but he's going to be weak from blood loss for a few days. There's nothing I can do about that."

Ice nodded his head and smiled. That was the best news that he'd heard in a long time.

"Go. Bring me back food, clean water and something to read to the boys. Your friend will most likely still be asleep by the time you return."

Ice nodded his head once more. Reaching out with one hand, he let his fingers run through the dark red silk of Gambit's hair before he stood and turned to go. He allowed himself one single glance back over his shoulder and was rewarded with the sight of Healer holding both of her hands an inch over Gambit's back as she slowly slid down into the trancelike state that meant she was channeling her healing powers. Her hands began to glow a soft pulsing blue.

Satisfied that all would be well, Ice began the trek back up to the surface where Healer's two adopted children were guarding Gambit's motorcycle.

Chapter Five


Slowly he began to drift up out of the darkness that had swallowed him up. Awareness came slowly to him and in bits and pieces. He could hear shuffling feet and the occasional solid thump mixed in with soft muttering voices. The scent of pizza and mildew battled for supremacy and he was thirsty. Very thirsty. Foggily, he tried to place where he was, but he was too confused. There had been too many cheap motels and low back street dives during his journey north from the Big Easy to recall...suddenly, a sharp memory of white hot pain rose up clear in his mind.

A blue-eyed boy with a sweet mouth.

A gang of thugs. Danger.

Pain.

With a gasp and a low cry, Gambit rolled off of the cot and flipped himself to his feet in a battle stance, feeling uncomfortably naked without his long trench coat and his playing cards. Instead of the sidewalk cafe' where he'd been fighting for his life, he found himself to be inside of what appeared to be a cave. There were a few more cots like the one he'd been laying on over to the side and some cheap shelving units along the far wall that held lots of boxes and things. On the other side of the room was a small card table where a blue skinned woman and two scruffy looking kids sat eating a pizza. They were staring at him in a mixture of curiosity and fear. Farther along the room was Ice. The young hustler was pulling out bottle after bottle of spring water from a battered duffle bag and was setting them up along one of the shelves even as he flashed his oh-so sexy smile.

"Hey! You're awake. Cool. I didn't think you'd wake up for a while yet. How do you feel?"

It took a brief moment for the words to seep down into Remy's confused mind, but when they did he realized that he felt good. Tired, but good. The burning pain that he had been expecting wasn't there. Pulling up out of his crouch, Remy reached behind himself to feel his back. No bandages. No stitches. No knife wound...well, there was what felt like a scar, but it seemed to be months old, not hours.

"Wha' de hell?"

Ice chuckled softly, drawing Remy's attention once more. With a shrug and a grin, Ice nodded his head towards the blue woman eating a slice of pizza.

"Healer does good work, huh? She's the one that patched you back together again after those Bull Dogs tried to kill you."

Remy ran his fingers over the scar once more and turned his gaze to the old woman sitting with the two children. He could feel his eyebrows raise up in amazement and was sure he looked totally gobsmacked.

"Choo did dis fo' Gambit?"

The blue woman nodded.

"How?"

Healer shrugged and frowned.

"I don't know how I do it, only that I can. How does Ice freeze things? How does Trance soothe ruffed feathers and calm heated tempers? How does Shadow hide the light? Why do your eyes burn with crimson fire?"

Remy considered all that and then answered the last question.

"Don' know why m' eyes are like dis. Jus' are."

Healer gave him a pointed look.

"Exactly."

Then suddenly Ice was there, handing him his trench coat and waving him towards the sheet covered entrance along the far wall. He slid the coat on and automatically began to riffle through his pockets to make certain that everything was there. Cigarettes, lighter, several packs of playing cards, pack of gum, couple sets of lock picks, some loose change. Everything but his keys.

"Where's m' keys, homme?"

His only answer was a soft chuckle and then a jingling sound as his keys flew through the air in a graceful arc towards him. He snatched them out of the air even as Ice turned to face the blue woman again.

"Thanks for everything Healer. I'm gonna take Gambit back up to the surface now. Unless there's an emergency or something weird happens, I'll probably be back in a week or two to visit."

Healer merely nodded, but the smaller of the two dirty children spoke up around a mouthful of pizza.

"Bring back one with pepperoni next time."

Ice just nodded and grinned.

"You got it, Trance. S'deal."

Then Ice turned and walked passed him, gesturing for him to follow. To be honest, Remy had no idea where he was and wouldn't have been surprised to find himself stepping out into a wooded forest, but he hadn't been expecting more dank tunnels. Especially one that was dimly lit by flickering electric lights.

"Eh...homme? Where we at?"

Ice shrugged and kept on walking.

"We're under the city. These tunnels are home to a lot of mutants."

Ice glanced back over his shoulder at Remy and made a vague gesture between the two of them.

"Me and you? We can get away with pretending to be human and live above ground in the human's world. But people like Healer and the boys? They'd be beaten to death before the week ended. Ya know?"

Unbidden, memories rose up in Remy's mind to remind him of what it had been like for him living on the streets of N'Awlins. His whole world had been defined by trying to get enough food to eat, finding a safe place to sleep and avoiding the roving gangs of older boys. The cries of 'Mutie Freak' still rang in his ears if he listened hard enough.

With a sigh of regret, he tried to push those memories back down into the darker corners of his mind. He didn't have to live that way anymore. He had skills and talents that he could ply that would allow him to live a much better life. Jean-Luc had seen to that.

"De more t'ings change, de more dey stay de same, oui? Down in de Big Easy, dere be all des folk scrappin' a livin' off de streets and den dere's de ones dat can' do dat hidin' out in de swamp. Once, twice a week or so dey go meet up an' trade fresh fish an' crawdads fo' clothin' an' medicine. Both ways is a hard life, oui?"

Ice merely nodded his head, seemingly lost in his own thoughts as they walked on through the twisting tunnels. Finally, they reached an area that shifted from rough stone to smooth concrete. The middle of the floor was covered in dirty water and a small narrow walkway ran along one side. Remy would bet they were now in the lower level of the city's sewer system. As they reached the first intersection, Ice called back over his shoulder.

"So, is that why you left your home and came to New York? Looking for an easier life? 'Cause, I gotta tell you Gambit, New York isn't as tolerant of mutants as you might have thought."

For a second Gambit wasn't going to answer, but then he figured that he owed it to Ice to tell the truth, or at least, the short version of it. It would be an effective test of the younger boy's trust, and besides, he could always deny it later.

"Naw. Had t' leave. Killed a man, me. Banished."

Ice's shoulders stiffened up and for a moment Remy thought that his confession would push the hustler away from him in fear, but then the tension seemed to drain out of the broad shouldered back in front of him and a soft sad sigh echoed off of the damp walls.

"Yeah. Me too. They were gonna sell me to some sort of twisted collector of mutant children. I didn't want any part of that and I lost control of my ice. Froze them solid."

A brief shrug that spoke eloquently of lots of sleepless nights that hadn't eased the pain. Remy could easily understand. Both the guilt of killing as well as the horror of being a slave. His earliest days had been spent as a member of a "collection" of mutant children owned by the Antiquary. He still had nightmares from that time period in his life. Ice's voice then yanked him out of the swirling thoughts of his past and he felt a brief flare of gratitude for it.

"Since then I've gotten better about freezing people to death...but it still happens. Sometimes."

A flash of memory rose up in his mind then. It was blurry and unfocused from intense pain and blood loss, but he could recall seeing the remaining members of the Bull Dogs being stuck inside of frozen blocks of solid ice. Oh. Oh! Yeah, Ice knew far too well what it was to kill in order to save your own life...or even the lives of others.

Then suddenly, Ice turned and walked through a doorway that led to a set of steps that went up. Silently, he followed the younger mutant as they made their way back up to the surface. After what was probably the equivalent of three stories worth of steps, they reached the ground floor of what looked like an old run down warehouse. Ice led him around a few rickety stacks of wooden crates and in between a set of rusty shelving units.

There were a lot of shadows there. For some reason, they didn't seem quite right to Remy's eyes, but he couldn't say why. His own eyes were sensitive to the dark, so he could see that his bike was parked inside of the shadows, but it was...obscured slightly.

"Ah...your bike is in that gloom somewhere. I asked Shadow to hide it so no one would steal it, but..."

Remy looked over to see that Ice was squinting into the gloom, a look of confusion on his face and grinned.

"Don' worry, mon cher folle. Gambit sees it."

Walking into the gloom, Remy threw his leg over his Harley Davidson and inserted the key. Starting it up, he shifted it off of the kickstand and walked the bike out of the shadows and into the light. He glanced over his shoulder at the younger mutant.

"Comin' cher? Least Gambit can do is offer choo a shower an' a hot meal."

Like the sun coming out, Ice smiled. It wasn't the same predatory gaze that he had seen back at the bar, but a real smile. Sexy as hell, but real all the same.

"Sure."


TBC...Chapter Six

Chapter 1 Translations
folle - "queen" (effemate gay man)
ta gueule, encole' - shut up, bastard
que tu es emmerdant - you really piss me off

Chapter 2 Translations
homme - guy/dude
folle - "queen" (effemate gay man)
merde - shit
Mon Dieu, il est bein. - My God, he's good.
C'est canon, folle. Vraiment! - It's hot, folle. Truly!
foutre - fuck
..., mon cher pute - my dear bitch/whore (masculine)