A Night on the Town
by
Ascian



This story contains strong language, a wee bit o' violence, and wee pinch o' sexual implication. Feedback and constructive comments of any kind are more than welcome and desired. I also have to apologize for my rather lack luster description of New York City. I haven't been there since I was a baby, and understandably, I don't really remember too much of the trip (and my imagination isn't so good, either). Also, you'll find that the Penance in this story line is considerably different from the one that Marvel presented in issue #40. So sue me.

Disclaimer: The X-Men, Generation X, and all related characters are the property of Marvel Comics. No copyright infringement is intended. Anne and others are characters of my own invention.




"And now for an update on the earthquake that struck the Canadian border three days ago. Trish?"

"Thank you, Roger. Three days ago, an earthquake that reached a magnitude of 8.6 on the richter scale hit the remote stretch of wilderness and mountain that you see behind me. Though the damage does not look extensive from this vantage point, interior photographs shot from the air have shown wide devastation over a radius of one hundred miles. The epicenter of the quake, located some seventy miles in the interior, has suffered the greatest damage. Here with me now is Dr. Fieldman of MIT's geology department, one of the many preeminent scientists who have come to the region to view firsthand the damage caused by the quake. Dr. Fieldman, what in your opinion caused this earthquake?"

"Well, Trish, I've discussed that very question with my colleagues, both here and around the country, and none of us have been able to come up with an answer we all feel comfortable with. What we can agree on, however, is that previous geologic research in this area never revealed a fault line that could cause an earthquake of this magnitude. Of course earthquakes, as with most natural disasters, are impossible to predict."

"Thank you, Dr. Fieldman. There were several towns, both in the United States and Canada, that suffered damage due to the quake. Gas, electricity, and phone lines have been disrupted, but work crews are hurrying to repair the damage. Luckily there were no fatalities, although there have been many reports of minor injuries. This is Trish Trilby, coming to you live from the location of a recent earthqu--"

"Hey, I was watching that!" Everett protested, as the news report was abruptly cut off. He glared at Angelo, who had his fingers wrapped securely around the remote control. The two boys were sprawled on opposite ends of the couch. Empty bags of fritos and cheetos lay scattered on the floor before them, along with an impressive array of soda cans. Angelo tore his eyes away from the television.

"Trilby gives me a headache," he explained, shrugging carelessly.

::Besides:: Jono added, running his fingers softly against the strings of his guitar. ::We already know what--or rather, who-- caused the quake.:: Melodic strumming filled the room and Jono shifted his weight, burrowing deeper into the large green bean sack that was his seat on the floor.

"Huh," Everett grunted, stretching out his legs. His foot brushed an empty can and it toppled over. "You think that Emma is ever going to forgive Anne for that headache?"

Jono immediately shook his head. ::Not hardly.::

"I'd buy a ticket to that cat fight," Angelo told them, lighting a cigarette. Pointing the remote at the television, he flipped through the channels until he found MTV. The latest VJ, Veronica, was perched on a stool with a field of television monitors behind her. Each of them carried a shot of her face, and thirty pairs of large, velvet brown eyes smiled at the three boys.

"You just saw the latest from Smashing Pumpkins. . . "

"Look at her," Angelo sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

::She's cute.:: Jono said, glancing up from his guitar.

"Cute?" Angelo replied. "She's a babe!"

He looked at the television again, and narrowed his eyes. "One day, Veronica, you will be mine. Oh yes, you will be mine."

"In your dreams," Everett laughed, reaching for an unopened can of soda from the cooler beside the couch.

"Like you should talk," Angelo retorted. "Let's face it, mes amigos. We are in a currently unacceptable state of being. We are chica-less."

"And how, Oh Great Stud, are we supposed to remedy that?" Everett asked, leaning back with a challenging smile.

Angelo shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. "The same way every other guy solves the problem. We go out and get us some girls."

Jono stared at him, one eyebrow raised. ::You make it sound like shopping.::

Angelo grinned wickedly. "But a lot more fun."

"It's not that easy," Everett began to argue. Angelo put up his hands, forestalling any more arguments.

"You two are currently looking at Captain Conquest himself. If I say we can get us some girls, we are going to get us some girls. Let's face it, we might as well kiss our love lives goodbye if depend on what the campus has to offer."

"Do you know how shallow you sound?" Everett told him disapprovingly.

Angelo paused for a moment, clearly deep in thought. "Uh, yeah?"

Everett rolled his eyes, and Jono shook his head.

"Oh, come on!" Angelo pleaded. "For one night, let's act like guys!"

::Next you'll be wanting us to bond.:: Jono drawled sarcastically, although a hint of interest had already crept into his eyes.

Angelo snorted, and stood up from the couch. An empty bag of chips crunched beneath his foot, and he tossed the remote on the worn cushions. "Well, I'm going. With or without you two." A moment later, Angelo dramatically lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "And when I come back with tales of beautiful girls, strung out across my body--"

::Oh, bloody 'ell.:: Jono growled, setting aside his guitar and jumping to his feet. ::You're not going to shut your yap, are you?::

Angelo smiled sweetly, cigarette drooping from the corner of his mouth. Jono sighed, and looked at Everett.

::Come on, Ev. I'm not doing this by myself.::

"I didn't think so," Everett grumbled, pushing himself off the couch. The three boys looked at each other.

"So where are we going tonight, mes amigos?" Angelo asked.

Veronica answered that question for them.

"And tonight marks the grand opening of a new teen club, called Blush! Located in upper Manhattan at the corner of 12th and Wilson, Blush is rumored to be the next hot spot of choice amongst the younger crowd. The doors will swing wide open at eight p.m. sharp, so get there on time, and plan for a night of wicked fun!"

Everett, Angelo, and Jono stared at the television for a long moment.

::New York it is, then.:: Jono spoke softly into their minds.

***


Dis is what dey call a Tiger summer, ain't it? Gambit thought to himself, staring out the window of Xavier's office. Outside, the trees still held tightly to their summer green, and although the sun had begun to set, the remaining golden rays sent a soothing warmth straight through to Gambit's bones. The early days of October had come around, and still, summer did not want to let go. Of course, he thought, Storm could have her hand in the weather. Yet this had been the pattern of late for the entire Northeastern seaboard. No, these last remnants of summer were just bits of good luck.

Luck that he hoped would come his way. Quickly.

Gambit turned away from the window as Scott finished speaking. "Wonderin' when you'd stop t'breathe, mon ami," he said lightly. Storm, who had been standing next to Gambit during the lecture, sighed and rolled her eyes.

"This is no time for jokes," Scott told him tightly. He threw a glance over his shoulder towards the Professor, who had been seated quietly at his desk for the past twenty minutes. "Do you know what she did to the Professor and to Jean? Not to mention every other telepath on the continent. She practically psi-blasted them, Gambit. Anne was completely out of control."

"She was fighting for her life, mon ami," Gambit replied, his playful facade slipping.

"We are aware of that," Storm moved close to her friend, laying a hand on his shoulder. "But her powers are dangerously out of control. Even you can see that."

Gambit shook his head. "Non, I don'. She may not have had de formal trainin' dat some o' us got, but dat don' mean Anne can' control her powers. De situation--"

"--is something else that requires discussing." The Professor spoke finally. His eyes found Gambit's face, and the Cajun discovered that he could not look away. "The psi-blast I suffered from is the least of my concerns, Gambit. What troubles me is that when Anne had knowledge of a potential threat to the X-Men, she did not warn us of it. Instead, she incapacitated Logan, effectively cobbled you, " Gambit opened his mouth to protest, but shut it when the Professor continued, "and then left. Yes, I know her intentions were noble, but that does not excuse the danger she put us or herself in."

Gambit found his voice. "Anne was only trying to protect us. To protect Penance. She knew dat Jareth only wanted her, an' she t'ought dat by goin' she'd draw him away. She woulda died t'protect us."

"She nearly did die," Storm murmured quietly. Gambit glanced in her direction, but she was looking at the floor. Storm was one of his best friends, but he still had not found the time to ask her what she thought of Anne. He wondered now what her feelings were. Both women were connected to the earth in ways that he, and no one else, could probably fathom. For one brief instant, he wondered what sort of trouble Storm and Anne could stir up if the two of them ever decided to work together. The power of the elements and of the earth. Now that would be something to see.

"The point is," Scott took up where the Professor had stopped, "that Anne's actions up to now have made her a liability to the team. First, it was that forest over the compound. I can't begin to imagine how many people died there--"

"--or how many deserved to die," Gambit said hotly. Storm placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"And now we learn that as a result of the compound's destruction, an untold number of potentially dangerous mutants have been released to roam free. How many more deaths will be on Anne's head if they decide to kill?"

Gambit threw off Storm's restraining hand. His eyes burned coal red.

"Don' you dare put de blame on Anne for anyt'ing dey do, Cyclops," he hissed. "She din' create dose monsters, an' she din' do nothin'dat wouldn' have been done eventually by de scientists who created dem."

"I agree with Gambit," Professor Xavier said quietly, eyes lost in thought. "Those mutants--Anne included--were created to be weapons. I suspect, however, that they were intended to be controlled tools of destruction."

Xavier sighed, and shook his head. "No matter. What's done is done, and there is very little that can change that. What we must deal with now is Anne, and her position on the team. There was discussion of asking her to leave," Gambit threw a murderous glance at Scott. "But that idea was dismissed fairly quickly."

You know Logan would leave wit' her, Gambit thought. An' you know dat liability o' not, Anne's powers let her kick ass wit' de best o' dem.

"So, what 'ave you decided?" Gambit asked. The Professor smiled slightly, and the Cajun wondered if he had read his mind.

"She can stay, of course," Xavier said mildly.

"But she'll be on probation," Scott added, his eyes challenging Gambit to disagree.

Gambit clenched his jaw, and he felt his fingers twitch. Storm gently touched his hand.

Let it go, she told him with her eyes.

Let it go. There didn't seem to be much else he could do. He wondered briefly how Wolverine would react if he were here, instead of keeping Anne company at her bedside while she recovered from the mental injuries of her battle. Let it go? Not hardly. But Logan was not here now.

Gambit met Storm's compassionate gaze, and he nodded slightly.

"I'll go tell her," he said stiffly, looking up from Storm to match gazes with the Professor, and then Scott. Squeezing Storm's hand, he turned away and quickly left Xavier's office. Only when the oak door closed behind him with a soft click, did he shake his head.

Probation, he thought, clenching his fists. Anne don' need dis, not now.

::It's all right, Remy. I heard.::

"Anne!" Gambit exclaimed out loud. He looked back at the office doors, and quickly strode down the hall towards the library where he could find some privacy.

::You not suppos' to use your powers, chere.: he mentally continued as he walked, disapproval coloring his thoughts. It had been only three days since her fight with Jareth, and Hank had ordered her confined to her bed. Her healing factor had repaired all of her physical injuries, but the psychic blast she had initiated in battle had stripped her mind raw, making her prone to dizzy spells and fierce headaches. Anne hated the bed rest, but even she could not deny that she needed it.

::Yeah, yeah. Don't beat me over the head with it.:: Despite her flippancy, Gambit could feel the weariness in her voice.

::You tol' Logan yet?::

::Right here, Cajun.:: Wolverine immediately growled in his mind. ::Annie let me hitch a ride with her when she went eaves droppin'.::

The three of them were silent for a long moment, and Gambit pushed open the door to the library. Navigating past the coffee table and expensive lamps, he took a seat before the cold, darkened fireplace.

::I guess this means I have to leave the X-Men, doesn't it?:: Anne spoke quietly.

::Dey just said it was probation, chere.:: Gambit argued immediately. He had been put 'on probation' enough to know that as long as you kept a low profile, things would be back to normal in less than a week.

::Probation.:: Wolverine muttered the word darkly. ::Nearly got yourself killed defendin' the world from a bloodthirsty pain in the ass, and they have the nerve ta put ya on probation.::

Gambit felt Anne's mental sigh. ::Where I'm from, probation is the same thing as putting up an 'unwelcome' sign, and telling a person to not come back.::

::Ya ain't in Eversted anymore, Annie.:: Wolverine reminded her.

::I know that, Logan.:: Anne replied. ::But I lived there for a long time, and old habits die hard.::

::Din' t'ink you ever cared what dose people t'ought o' you, chere.::

::No, but I've made the mistake of caring what the X-Men think. Especially the two of you.::

Gambit closed his eyes, and smiled. ::We t'ink de world o' you, chere.::

::Yeah, Annie.:: Logan added, his voice rough with emotion.

::My guardian angels.:: she sent back gently, though Gambit could detect pain and exhaustion in her voice where there had been none only minutes before.

::Better shut down, Annie.:: Wolverine told her immediately, sensing the onslaught of the symptoms that were the current result of overusing her powers.

::G'night, Remy.:: Anne murmured, and then both she and Logan faded from Gambit's mind.

He smiled sadly to himself, and ran his fingers through his hair. Anne was on probation for what she had done. Yet if the X-Men ever discovered his crimes. . . Gambit shuddered, and closed his eyes. A slap on the wrist would be the least of his punishments. Lord knew, he deserved the worse they could throw at him. . .

A slight scratching sound alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone, and he buried his memories.

"Hello, petite." Gambit said, well aware of who was there before he opened his eyes. As expected, Penance stood before him, her blue eyes deep and penetrating as they guilelessly studied his face.

She reached out a slender arm and pointed towards his heart, and then his face. It was her way of asking if he was all right, and for a moment, Gambit considered lying to her. He took one look at her face, and found that he could not.

"Just lookin' over old mem'ries, petite. Ain't none o' dem dat are good, but dat's not'ing you need t'worry about."

The walls of the Mansion suddenly seemed too confining to him, and Gambit had the urge to get out, to feel the wind in his face and bury the images in his mind with loud music and alcohol. Or perhaps, he thought suddenly as Penance stirred before him, with some company.

"You feel like stretchin' your legs a little, petite?"

She gestured with her chin towards the hall.

"Nah, not de Danger Room. Gambit thinkin' 'bout a night on the town. You could use some time away from dis place even more den me."

Her eyes grew wide, and she shook her head vehemently. But Gambit suddenly was not in the mood to take no for an answer. As he stood up and walked from the library, Penance darted past him. She stood solidly in his path, her expression a mixture of panic and desperation. She pointed to herself.

"Yeah." Gambit drawled slowly. "What's de problem?"

A trace of fire appeared in her eyes, and Penance gestured at herself again, this time more forcefully. Gambit sighed.

"You can't hide fo'ever, petite," he told her gently. "Dere's a whole world beyond dese walls, an' it's 'bout time dat you saw it. 'Sides, if you're worried 'bout how you look, Gambit t'ink he knows just de trick."

***


"So, how do I look?" Angelo asked, plucking at the hem of his skin tight silver metallic shirt.

"Like you'll chafe," Everett told him bluntly. They were standing in Everett's room, elbowing each other for space in front of the full length mirror propped up against the wall.

"Yeah, well at least I don't look like a yuppie wannabe."

"I look good in this suit, Angelo. All of the girls say so."

"We're going to a dance club! Not some uptown, classy joint."

"Just you wait and see."

"Ahem."

Angelo and Everett turned on their heels, and found themselves matching gazes with Sean, who stood at the doorway of their room. His eyes twinkled as he took in the respective outfits of his two students.

"I just gave Jono the keys to the car with the strictest of warnings that ye all be home by one. I hope that's clear?" he told them, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

"As crystal," Angelo replied, snapping up his arm in a mock salute. Sean chuckled.

"Lad, I'm not Emma. No need t'salute."

"Speaking of which, what did she say when you told her where we were going tonight?" Everett asked.

Sean grimaced, and ran his hand through his hair. "T'be honest, I haven't told her yet. Didnae think it was anything she had t'be concerned about."

Angelo and Everett both shared identical looks of alarm.

"You said Jono has the keys?" Angelo asked, stuffing his wallet into his back pocket and grabbing his jacket.

"Aye, lad."

Everett was already moving towards the door, and Sean stepped out of his way. Angelo followed close on his friend's heels, and threw Sean a faintly nervous grin.

"How long do you think we have to get out of here before she finds out?" Everett asked Angelo, as soon as they were out of hearing distance.

"Not long enough," Angelo replied. "And when she does, you can bet that we won't be going anywhere tonight."

Jono was already sitting in the jeep, waiting for them. Everett and Angelo left the house at a run, and made a wild dash towards the car.

::Wot's the rush?:: he asked, as his friends clambered breathlessly into the jeep.

"Just shut up and go!" Angelo told him, furtively looking out the window towards the house.

"Sean didn't tell Emma we were going clubbing in New York," Everett explained quickly, "and when she finds out he let us go behind her back. . . " his voice trailed off ominously.

::Right.:: Jono said, starting the engine. ::Let's get the 'ell out of here.::

***


Gambit watched as Penance slowly pirouetted in front of the mirror. He had to admit, Hank had done a fine job with his latest retooling of the image inducer. The illusion that now enwrapped Penance was a fair imitation of what she probably would have looked like had her appearance not been altered permanently by her mutation. Of course, Gambit thought he could take a little credit. Having once been inside her mind to see how she remembered herself, he had been able to give Hank some first hand input as the scientist developed more images to download into the device.

Fine chestnut hair hung loosely to her shoulders, and her large blue eyes were nicely offset by a peaches and cream complexion. Her clothing consisted of blue jeans and an ivory flower print blouse. Nothing too exciting, but it was appropriate for a jaunt into town.

"You like, petite?" Gambit asked, curious to know if she approved.

Penance turned around to face him, and he was pleasantly surprised to see her eyes shining with gratitude. She moved forward with her arms outstretched, as though meaning to hug him. She stopped herself at the last moment, her smile slipping.

Without missing a beat, Gambit continued what Penance was afraid to do, and swept the slender girl up into a hug. Hank had fashioned adamantium-laced gloves to keep her from inadvertently injuring anyone or anything, and her remaining skin was covered by leather clothing disguised by the illusion. Gambit knew he was not going to hurt himself by holding her, and even if there was the chance, he was not sure that it mattered to him. Penance needed someone to show her that she was cared for. She needed to be shown that she was safe.

"Just 'member, petite," Gambit told her as he set her back down on her feet, "Dis illusion is all fine an' good when you want t'go out, but de real you is even prettier."

She smiled shyly, and lightly placed her hand over his heart. Gambit nodded in understanding, a smile spreading across his own face.

"Well den. Gambit t'ink it's time we hit de road, eh?"

The two of them headed down to the garage. Gambit did not bother to tell anyone they were leaving, and they met no one in the halls. He was fairly certain that someone would be displeased when they found he had taken Penance out, but he honestly did not care. Penance needed to leave the Institute's grounds. There was more to life than fighting or being scared. Maybe she had known that a long time ago. Either way, it was time that someone reminded her.

The smell of oil and metal filled Gambit's nose the minute he entered the garage. He inhaled the scent cheerfully, and beckoned for Penance to follow him to where his bike was parked. He handed her his helmet, which she took hesitantly. Penance motioned towards his own head, and Gambit shrugged.

"Dis old skull is as hard as rock, petite. Gambit don' need nothin'."

She frowned disapprovingly, and just stood there staring at him. He tried unsuccessfully to remain strong.

"Fine, den," he muttered, weaving his body between the other parked vehicles to retrieve an extra helmet sitting on a high shelf. He plunked it on his head, and looked at her through narrowed eyes. "Happy?"

He could have sworn Penance smirked, but she turned away from him before he could catch the expression on her face. By the time he neared her, she appeared as inscrutable as ever. Gambit straddled his motorcycle, and patted the small space behind him. Tentatively, Penance threw her leg over the bike, and slid onto the seat behind her friend. A small backrest hugged her spine, and she rested her feet on two spurs that jutted out just in front of the back wheel.

"Comfortable, petite?" Gambit asked her. She patted his shoulder, and he grinned. "Well den, hold on tight!" He felt Penance's arms snake around his waist, and the hard plastic of her helmet pressed into his back through the material of his trench coat. With a tight grin, Gambit revved the engine of his motorcycle, and roared from the garage.

Penance's first reaction was to clutch blindly at Gambit, her arms wrapping around his waist in a vise-like grip. Gambit grunted as the wind was knocked out of him, and he reached down with one hand to lightly pat Penance's arm. Her hold slackened only slightly, but it was enough to let him breath again.

"Don' worry, petite! Gambit'll take good care o' you!" The wind tore the words from his throat as he called to her.

The road sped beneath them in a blur, wind buffeting their bodies and clothing. Despite the season, the night was not unpleasantly cool, and the few stars that had appeared in the darkening sky glittered wildly. Someone had mowed their lawn earlier that day--Gambit smelled the grass clippings as they sped down the road. The clean, fresh scent filled his nose and he inhaled deeply.

Of course, now he had to decide where to go. He had not thought of it before leaving the mansion--he was so desperate to just get out, and Penance had joined him at the last minute. The turn-off for Salem Center would be coming up soon.

D'ere's Harry's. . . but petite is just a minor. Course, wit' dat image inducer. . .

Gambit quickly discarded the idea. The last thing he wanted was to be caught with Penance, looking like the twenty-something sex kitten that Beast had programmed into the device. That would not go over well with the other X-Men.

So where could the two of them go for a night of fun?

Petite's never been out, so dis needs t'be special. . .

A germ of an idea began to form in his mind.

Gambit passed the turn-off to Salem Center. A few minutes later, they were on the freeway heading towards New York City.

***


He's taking me to New York City.

The words began to run ruthlessly through Penance's head the moment the motorcycle entered the freeway.

I'm going to New York City.

In her mind's eye, she could see people--hordes of them. Pushing, shoving, staring. Even with the image inducer, how could she ever hope to fool anyone? She was a mutant. Disfigured both on the inside and out.

There would be too many people, too many unfamiliar eyes and faces.

She had to convince Gambit to turn around.

Of course, that was easier said than done. Penance looked down, and swallowed heavily. The hard pavement passed beneath them in a mind numbing blur, less than a foot away from their unprotected bodies. Gambit's posture was relaxed, back slightly rounded as he hunched over the handlebars of his motorcycle. No, he would not be worried about something as trivial as, say, the bike turning over and their bodies hitting the concrete at--she looked over his shoulder at the speedometer--more than eighty-five miles per hour.

Then again, Penance remembered a time when a motorcycle ride had been a little piece of heaven. When traveling to New York, or any American city, had been part of a dream.

Dead, dead, dead.

Long forgotten memories began to move sluggishly through her mind, images that she had pushed away appearing with renewed clarity. Events, places--friends. Friends.

Alexi's face surfaced, Dimitri's grinning features not far behind. No, that made sense, she told herself numbly. Alexi and Dimitri had been inseparable. Both orphans, like herself. They had called each other brother, and she. . . she had started out as their little sister. Alexi had owned a motorcycle. Well, he had stolen it from an army base, but no one had ever caught him so Penance figured that it was as good as his.

She could still see him in her mind, hunched over the dull, scratched contraption, hands buried in the engine. He only worked on it at night, and Dimitri would hold a lamp over his head so that he could see what he was doing. Penance was their look-out as they worked. It was their secret. The motorcycle was their way out.

The two boys were both fifteen, and their parents had been dead for so long they could barely even remember their faces. The matrons in the local orphanage had raised them since before they could walk. Penance remembered asking them to tell her about their life in the rural Home, but they refused to talk of it. Alexi's face had darkened, and Dimitri's eyes filled with a distant pain that was all the more poignant because it took the smile from his face. Dimitri always smiled. Even when he crossed paths with a drunken soldier and had a gun rammed up along his cheek, he still smiled and laughed it off.

"Life is a joke, Yvette," he told her one night. The three of them were sitting in the window of an abandoned apartment building, high on the thirteenth floor. The moon was full, casting silver light upon the ruined city. Despite the devastation, the city looked beautiful. The moon always did that. One of Dimitri's legs hung out of the window, and he held a cigarette he had filched in his right hand.

"Never forget that. The moment you think of life as more than a joke, the moment you take all the shit seriously, you might as well be dead."

"Dead?" she raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

Alexi snorted, his blue eyes catching the moonlight. "You should be an actor, Dimitri. You love melodrama."

"Sure, that's true," he admitted gamely. "but this is something I'm serious about, really. I mean, let's face it. When you care about the world--about life-- you've lost. Your heart isn't your own anymore. It belongs to something else, and when you've lost your heart. . . "

"Lost your heart? To what?" Yvette asked, frowning. Dimitri was still smiling, but she had never heard such serious words come out of his mouth.

"He's being a jackass, that's what." Alexi threw him a warning look. "Yvette's just eleven. She doesn't need to hear your philosophies."

"You can't protect her forever, Alexi. She's suffered, too. It's not like my talk will destroy her innocence."

Alexi said nothing, and only looked at her. His eyes were thoughtful. Yvette felt her face begin to redden under his scrutiny, and she was suddenly glad to be sitting in the shadows.

"She's still more innocent than either one of us, Dimitri," he finally spoke, his voice soft. Alexi tore his eyes from her face to give his smoking friend a meaningful look. "I'll protect that for as long as I can."

Dimitri remained silent for a long moment, the two boys staring at each other. He finally nodded, and took a long drag from his cigarette.

Penance felt relieved when he began to talk about Alexi's motorcycle, and their plans for it. She was uncomfortable being the cause of disagreement between the two of them. They never spoke of the incident again, although she often replayed the conversation in her mind.

I understand now, Dimitri. I understand.

"Petite?" Gambit's voice broke through her reverie, and Penance found herself once again in the present. She adjusted her grip around his waist, feeling his hand on top of her arm.

"Your hands were slippin', petite," he yelled over the wind. "Gambit 'fraid you might let go."

Penance squeezed his waist in response. He patted her hand, and then went back to concentrating on the road.

Penance fondly looked at the back of Gambit's head. Maybe the reason why she felt so close to him was that he reminded her of Alexi and Dimitri, all rolled into one. Or maybe it was a desperate longing on her part to find a friend who felt the burden of real pain and self-loathing, like she did. Or maybe, as Dimitri might have said, the 'why' didn't matter. Only that it had happened, and she was happier because of it.

They rode on the freeway for another twenty minutes before the lights of the city's skyline appeared ahead of them. Penance swallowed heavily, feeling dread tighten her stomach into a knot. All those people. . .

She sighed. Alexi had loved those glossy magazines with pictures of foreign places, and he especially enjoyed reading about America.

"We'll take the bike, and once we're over the border we'll claim status as refugees. I hear they give you a little something for that. We'll have to get jobs, find a place to live--but just think! No more fighting or hiding. And we'll get to America eventually, Yvette. You, me, and Dimitri. We'll be happy there."

His words echoed through her head, and she focused her gaze on the lights of the city. Penance knew even then that they would be happy anywhere, as long as they were together.

But they aren't here, are they? They won't ever see this city. You'll never be together again.

Penance looked away from the approaching skyline, and stared at the blur of the road passing beneath her.

***


Gambit inhaled deeply, savoring the scents of New York. Exhaust, rotting garbage, and hot dogs. He smiled, and parked his bike in a lock-up that Logan had shown him the last time they had come to the city together. He was only going to be here for a few hours, but he did not want to take the risk of having his bike stolen.

Penance climbed off while Gambit paid the owner of the lot. He took a careful glance at her appearance, just to make sure the inducer was still working. He didn't give a damn how she really looked, but most people were not so tolerant, and they were here to have a good time. Gambit wanted Penance to experience a little of life without worrying what people thought of her. Though from the way she stood with her head hanging down and her shoulders hunched, that might be a little more difficult than he had previously thought.

Finishing his transaction, Gambit waited for the owner to leave before moving close to Penance. He placed his finger beneath her chin, and lifted her face until he was staring into her eyes.

"Dat's no way for a petite belle to be standing," he told her, indicating her slumped shoulders. "Hold up your head; you got nothin' t'be ashamed of."

Her eyes spoke volumes, and she waved a hand over her face.

"Petite," he spoke in low, serious tones, hoping to make her understand what he saw when he looked at her. What others would see, if she would only give them a chance. "You're t'inkin' dat people will see right through dat inducer, oui? Let Gambit tell you somethin'. You are a beautiful person, wit' or wit'out dat fancy gadget. You got more courage, more heart, den most folks you'll meet tonight, an' I want you t'remember dat. I want you t'hold up your head wit' all de dignity an' strength I know you got. Don' let de world steal your heart, petite."

Penance stiffened at his last statement, her eyes flickering. Gambit tried to grasp hold of what it was he saw, but he could not find the words to describe the emotion in her eyes. All he knew was that he had struck a nerve.

Gambit took a step away from Penance, watching her. She no longer seemed to be aware that he was there, and she brought her hand up to her face to rub the bridge of her nose. It was an unconscious gesture, one that seemed very old and at the same time new, as though she had not used her hands in such a way for a long time.

She finally met his gaze. Her eyes were still filled with uncertainty, but there was a commitment there that he had not seen earlier.

Gambit reached out and took her hand, feeling the adamantium-laced leather beneath his palm.

"Come on, petite," he gestured towards the city street with his chin. "We got a city t'conquer."

***


Blush was nothing like what they imagined it would be.

First of all, the entire building appeared to have been made out of glass. Floors, walls--everything but the steel girders were transparent. There was one exception, however. The ceiling of each floor was a reinforced one-way mirror, so that girls wearing skirts would not have to worry about people on lower floors looking up their clothing. They could still look down, however. And down. And down.

"This place is great!" Angelo shouted, as the three boys entered the club. The doors had opened only ten minutes before, and already the dance floors on the second and third levels were full. The fourth floor, from what could be seen from the street, looked like a café of sorts, an eclectic blend of Seattle yuppie and New York grit. The first floor had no dance space, only a long, transparent bar which served drinks; nothing stronger than soda and eco-juices graced the moderately expensive menu.

Angelo's grin widened as a curvaceous blond winked at him, the young woman joining a group entering one of the few glass elevators built around the main entrance.

"Hey man," Angelo called to the guy standing closest to the elevator doors. "Wait for us."

Angelo nodded his thanks as the three boys squeezed themselves on board, his eyes searching the faces of the other passengers for the girl that had winked at him. He finally caught her eye, and they grinned at each other.

She is so hot, he thought. An image arose unbidden in his mind of the two of them, limbs tangled. . .

The girl immediately gasped in shock, drawing every single eye. "You pervert!" she exclaimed heatedly, staring at Angelo.

Luckily for him, the elevator doors opened at that moment, and Angelo stumbled out, followed closely by his friends. The last he saw of the girl was her angry, red, face.

He turned around to find Jono and Everett staring at him.

"What?" he asked innocently.

***


So this is New York City, Penance thought, wrapping her fingers more firmly around Gambit's hand. Her heart thudded dully in her chest, and she swallowed heavily. Penance forced herself to keep her head up--the temptation to hide behind the illusion of blond hair was almost overwhelming. How long ago had it been when she had clung to the shadows of the biosphere, hiding at the first breath of a stranger? When the act of stepping outside in the sunlight without bolting was a cause for celebration? Panic rose unbidden in her throat, and Penance fought to swallow the overwhelming urge to run. How could she have ever imagined that she could leave the Mansion and be just another face in the crowd? In New York City of all places, too!

A large woman, bulky overcoat wrapped around her corpulent frame, accidentally brushed shoulders with Penance as they passed each other on the sidewalk. Penance jumped at the unexpected contact, and she whirled to face the woman. She found herself facing a retreating back. The passerby had not paid Penance any attention at all.

She slowly exhaled.

Jumping like a rabbit at nothing, her mind mocked. People touch each other like that all the time, and they don't expect a fight or a beating. Where's your head?

It hadn't been so long ago, had it? When she had been like them, when she could have slipped into any crowd and fit in. That, and her age, was why she had been a message courier for the resistance army. Alexi and Dimitri had always been so worried for her when she left to deliver a message--it was too dangerous for them to run around in the streets. Older boys were often targeted as potential soldiers, and the army could detain them--or use them as target practice. No one noticed a slip of a girl like herself. At least, they weren't supposed to. . .

"Petite?" Gambit tugged at her hand. Penance calmed her racing heart, and looked up at her friend. She smiled tremulously, and with a great deal of effort, forced herself to continue walking down the street.

Gambit eyed her worriedly, but remained silent. If she needed help, she would ask for it. In the meantime, he would act as her safety blanket, a reminder that she was not alone. And damned if he wasn't going to make sure she had some fun tonight.

Unhurriedly, they walked along the city streets, just two anonymous people amidst the New York crowds. It took almost fifteen minutes before Penance began to relax. Gambit felt her grip around his hand steadily loosen, and he watched as curiosity overcame her timidity. By no means did she fit into the flow of the crowd like he did, but that would come with time and a little more confidence. Lord knew, he had enough of that to spare.

A brisk breeze ruffled his trench coat, the cool air rushing over his face. He sensed, rather than saw, Penance's shiver, and Gambit suddenly realized that she did not have any clothes except for her one suit of leather scraps and bandages. If he wasn't mistaken, it was the same outfit that she had been found in--that she had been tortured in while with Emplate.

Dat's one more reminder petite doesn't need. Getting rid o' dose t'ings might make her feel a little better. He smiled to himself. An' I ain't never seen a woman dat din' like t'shop.

"Feel like some new clothes, petite?" He asked her with a loose grin. He looked down, expecting to see her answering gaze. Instead, Gambit found Penance staring intently into the shadows of an alley they were passing. Gambit followed her gaze. At first glance, all he saw were bags of garbage, a dumpster, and several cardboard boxes surrounded by bottles and crates.

There--in a crate half hidden by the dumpster. Movement. The glint of human eyes, set in faces too small and delicate to belong to adults.

Memories immediately filled his head: a cold, damp room devoid of light; hunger and loneliness; fear. . . .

Gambit sighed. It never mattered how old he was. Some things he could never forget. Nor, it seemed, could Penance. The girl who had been so shy and terrified of the city, let go of his hand and moved towards the alley. Momentarily stunned, Gambit watched as Penance wove her way through the crowds towards the darkness beyond.

Wake up, homme. It's not like she's your shadow. Gambit told himself sternly. He quickly caught up with her, and the two of them approached the entrance of the alley, and the small forms that huddled just beyond the light of the street. Broken glass crunched loudly beneath their feet, and the scent of refuse grew more pungent. Gambit's hand slipped into his pocket to finger his deck of cards as his night vision snapped into a full effect. Carefully examining the location where he had last seen the children, he felt a touch of amazement that Penance had spotted them from the street. Then again, he supposed, hurt souls sometimes sought out their own.

Dat's why she runs wit you, homme. She sees right tr'ough you.

They were less than five feet away from the children when one of them stirred. A small boy, no more than twelve years old, rose on unsteady feet. His jeans hung from his hips and the torn neck of his sweater revealed a sharply protruding collarbone. He watched Gambit and Penance warily, his hands clenched into fists. Gambit tore his eyes from the boy to glance down at the other children huddled behind him. Two little girls, tucked away inside of the large cardboard box. He could not make out much of them except for their eyes, but that was all he needed to see. There was no fear in their gazes. Just weary acceptance.

"What do you want?" the boy spoke suddenly, eyes darting from Gambit to Penance. He took a deep breath that Gambit heard rattle in his chest. "Just leave us alone."

Gambit frowned. "We're just here to help you."

The kid laughed, a sharp, piercing sound that held absolutely no humor. "I've heard that one before. I already told you--fuck off."

Gambit narrowed his eyes, and spared a glance for Penance. Her eyes were glued on the two little girls, her expression inscrutable. He sighed.

"You hungry?" Gambit asked, taking a step forward. The boy immediately scrambled backwards, his sneakers scraping across the pavement. A familiar click filled Gambit's ears, and a second later his eyes caught a flash of metal. The boy had pulled out a switchblade.

"Leave us alone," he hissed. Gambit shook his head.

"You an' your sisters be needin' help. None' o' you look so good."

"Yeah, and you're supposed our mother-fucking guardian angel, right?"

Gambit glanced down at the two girls before answering. Their eyes were large, swallowing the light of the alley. The dull acceptance that filled their gazes had been swept away by fear. Pain struck Gambit in the heart. Nothing he did ever turned out right, it seemed. He couldn't even help a couple of kids without scaring them half to death. Looking the boy straight in the eye, Gambit slowly reached into his pocket for his wallet. He pulled out forty dollars, and slowly crouched to lay the money on the ground. He straightened, and took a step backwards.

"Come on, petite," Gambit murmured to Penance. "Dese kids don' wan' our help," He placed a hand on her shoulder, and when he began to back away, he expected her to follow him. She did not.

Penance moved towards the children before he could stop her. One moment she was by his side, and in the next, she had crossed the distance between herself and the boy. Or rather, the two little girls. Their brother saw where she was headed, and gasped.

"Stay away!" he cried out, and lunged towards Penance. Gambit caught the downward flash of metal. Stricken, he lunged towards the boy, knowing that he was too far, and too late. The knife sliced downwards through the illusion and into Penance's shoulder. As the blade connected with her flesh, Penance flinched. Gambit heard a metallic twang, and a moment later, the boy looked at his switchblade, mouth gaping. The blade had snapped in two. He looked up at Penance, and then looked back at the jagged remains of his knife.

Penance straightened slowly, and gingerly fingered her shoulder. With his sharp eyes, Gambit could see her hand trembling. Clenching his jaw, the tall Cajun stalked over to the young boy, and wrenched the remains of the switchblade from his unresisting fingers. He threw it towards the back of the alley, and a moment later he heard the sound of metal skidding across pavement.

"What in de hell d'you t'ink you were doin'?" Gambit growled, swinging the boy around to face him. Despite the fact that he could see Penance was all right, he had been scared out of his wits by the sight of that knife slashing towards her arm. And they had just been trying to help. . .

"She--she's a mutant," the boy gasped, seeming to forget his fear and distrust as he stared up at Gambit.

"Yeah, dat's right," Gambit growled, his eyes glowing red. "So you take a long, hard look at my face, boy. 'Cause you're lookin' at anot'er mutie freak."

The boy struggled helplessly in Gambit's steel grip, eyes filling with horror. Movement from his left distracted him, and Gambit looked up to see Penance watching. Concern filled her eyes, and something else, too.

Sorrow. Sympathy. Regret.

His breath caught in his throat, and he instantly released the boy. The child fell to his knees and shoved himself backwards, chest heaving.

Gambit took a step backwards, clenching his fists in helpless despair. What 'ave I done? his mind whispered raggedly.

Then, Penance was there in front of him, taking his balled-up hands and holding them together in her warm, leathery grip. He looked down at her face, his gaze moving past the illusion to find her eyes. Those bright, blue eyes that were always filled with so much sadness. Now was no different, and Gambit felt his heart ache. He had wanted so much for her to have a good time tonight. To forget her troubles, and to remember what it felt like to be a young woman. He wanted to see laughter in her eyes.

"Gambit sorry, petite," he whispered hoarsely.

She smiled at him--a tremulous tug at the corner of her mouth.

A scrap of pavement, a hoarse whisper, and a child's whimper.

Gambit looked up and Penance pulled away from him to turn around. The children were gone. His eyes fell to the ground. So was his forty dollars.

He sighed. At least they would have something to eat tonight, although they would be terrified out of their wits, thanks to him. Penance's shoulders sagged as her eyes scanned the area where they had just been. He was not sure why, but it had been important for her to help those kids. He wrapped his fingers around her hand, and tugged her towards him for a short hug.

"It's all right, petite. Dere's still lots o' o'der kids out dere dat need help. We'll make sure dat some o' dem get it." He felt her nod against his chest, and he released her. He looked down into her sad eyes, and took a shaky breath. He didn't bother hiding from Penance the way he was feeling. This run-in had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. For now though, he just wanted to get out of the alley.

"Come on, petite. Let's get out o' here."

***


"I'm telling you, Jono. She wants you."

::You have got to be kidding.::

"No way. Look at how she's checking you out, and tell me you don't think she's interested."

The three boys were standing at the edge of the dance floor, taking a break from the rest of the gyrating bodies in the center of the room. They weren't the only ones. In fact, there were more people standing around than dancing, which probably had more to do with the transparency of the floor than anything else. No one, except for the strong of heart, really felt that comfortable jumping and twisting on something that looked so breakable.

Still though, the three boys agreed that this was one of the coolest places they had ever been in. Not to mention, they had seen more attractive girls in just two hours, than they had ever seen in their entire lives. Of course, none of those same girls had yet to leave the dance floor with one of them and just talk. Until now.

"Oh, here she comes," Angelo grinned, subtly eyeing the girl out of the corner of his eye. He turned to Jono, whose eyebrows were making deep tracks into his forehead. "Stop that!" he muttered. "She isn't going to want you if you've got that scowl on your face!"

::Then you can have her!:: Jono hissed.

"Madras de Dios, Jono. Don't you have any hormones? She's got breasts the size of--"

"Hello!" Everett said a little too brightly, interrupting Angelo. Angelo whirled around, and came face to face with the girl that had been watching Jono for the past ten minutes. He grinned sheepishly.

"Hi!" she returned just as brightly, training her eyes on Jono. She idly fingered a strand of auburn hair that dipped down into her ample cleavage, and Angelo sighed. Yeah, maybe he would try to get this girl if Jono screwed up. If she wasn't a telepath, that is.

"My name's Jennifer. I've been, um, watching you for the past few minutes," she said coyly, a smile tugging at her full lips. "I was wondering if you'd like to talk. . . or something."

That 'something' was loaded with innuendo, and Angelo and Everett both threw each other significant looks. Jono's eyes widened a fraction, and he glanced helplessly at his friends.

"Uh, he can't talk, chica." Angelo covered, having the urge to smack himself on the forehead for forgetting Jono's 'disability'. "Bad accident when he was a kid."

"Oh, how terrible!" Jennifer exclaimed, her blue eyes widening exponentially as she looked at Jono. "How did. . . how did it happen?" she asked, sidling closer to Jono.

"Mad dog," Everett said, straight faced. "Real ugly scene."

Jono raised an eyebrow at his friend as Jennifer gasped. Lucky for Everett, Jennifer took that moment to throw her arms around Jono's waist, distracting the young man from making a scathing mental response.

"Oh, you poor thing!" she exclaimed in a heartfelt voice.

Angelo and Everett grinned, and began to walk away.

::Where do you blokes think you're going?::

::We got you a girl, amigo.::

::Yeah, now we're off to find our own.::

::But--hey!:: He yelped mentally as Jennifer squeezed his backside.

"Think he can handle her?" Everett asked Angelo as they turned to watch Jono unsuccessfully attempt to peel Jennifer from his body.

"Nah. He can't even take it when Paige makes a pass at him."

"I wish we could take a picture of this," Everett mused.

Angelo grinned wickedly, rubbing the side of his nose. Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew a tiny, disposable camera.

"Wait until the girls see this," he snickered, taking a picture as Jono found himself pinned against a wall.

"You are just so bad," Everett told him.

"Like, really," Angelo quipped back.

***


Penance found herself floating through a sea of people, and all she could see were the faces of three little children. From the moment she had spotted them huddled against the dumpster in the alley, memory had run rampant in her head. She could see herself, Alexi and Dimitri in those children. Cold and hungry. Frightened. Maybe they were a little younger than Penance and her friends had been, but the feelings and sensations were the same. Those never changed, no matter how old or experienced you became.

She glanced up at Gambit, feeling reassured by the feel of his fingers around her hand. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were distant and pain-filled. He was blaming himself for whatever had happened back in the alley. Blaming himself when it was her fault that things had turned out the way they had. She had been the one to rush towards the girls--her feet taking her towards them before her mind could take control of her body. It was just that she had such poignant memories of herself at that age--a time not so distant--and the idea that they might suffer what she had. . .

Then the boy had struck her. She remembered the knife breaking against her skin, her heart hammering in her throat as she reached up to touch the skin of her shoulder. She had almost smiled when she realized that she was unhurt, but then she had looked up to see the expression on the boy's face, and all of her relief had died. That boy. . . the way he stared at her. . . she might as well not have been wearing the image inducer at all.

"Gambit sorry, petite," Gambit suddenly whispered for her ears only. His eyes and voice were filled with real remorse. "Shoulda known better den to insist dat you come to de city,"

Penance regarded him silently, her own worries suddenly forgotten as she once again digested the guilt in his eyes and voice. Idiot. You think you're the only one who has ever suffered? You think you're the only who has problems or regrets?

Not for the first time, she wished that she could still speak. She wanted to tell him not to worry, that his reaction to the boy had been understandable considering the situation. She wanted to see that charming Cajun who was her friend, and not the guilt-ridden, haunted man who walked at her side.

Two sides of the same coin, she told herself. They are the same man.

Penance impulsively squeezed Gambit's hand. He turned startled eyes down on her, and she met his gaze with a smile.

Gambit blinked in surprise, and a little of the pain drained from his face. He studied her eyes for a long moment, and then suddenly grinned.

"You hungry, petite?"

His question took her by surprise, but even as she began to shake her head no, she heard her stomach growl. She tried to recall the last time she had eaten, and the subsequent memory of a shiny, red apple was faint and distant. Penance shrugged, and nodded. Gambit threw her a lopsided grin and glanced up the street. His face brightened, and Penance craned her neck to see what had caught his attention.

"Come on, petite," Gambit tugged on her hand. "Gambit jus' t'ink he found dinner."

***


"Dinner" consisted of a hot dog, bought on the street from a vendor. Penance had never had one before, and Gambit insisted that she try it with all of the fixings.

"'Dis is a regular piece o' New York," he told her as they approached the steaming, steel cart. "You got t'try a ho' dog, petite. Gambit won' let you leave de city until you do."

Gingerly holding a paper wrapped hot dog in her hand, Penance eyed it doubtfully. Diced onions, peppers, ketchup, mustard--and there were a few other toppings that she could not identify--all smothering that narrow link of meat.

"You gonna eat that or dissect it, kid?"

Penance started, and lifted her eyes. The man Gambit had bought their food from was leaning on his hot dog stand, watching her with a bemused look on his tanned, weather-beaten face. Gambit chuckled, lifting a paper napkin to wipe his mouth.

"She don' mean t'be rude, mon ami. Petite's just never had a ho' dog 'fore. At least, I don' t'ink she has." Gambit looked questioningly at Penance, and she shook her head in response. Sausages maybe, but she was not entirely certain that they were the same thing. She had certainly never eaten them between soft bread and covered with a rainbow assortment of dressings.

The vendor shook his head in disbelief. He crossed his burly arms across his wide chest and turned his sharp gaze back on Penance. "Well, kid?" he asked gruffly, jutting out his chin towards the hot dog in her hands. "Take a bite."

Penance glanced up at Gambit, but the tall Cajun was no help at all. He was watching just as expectantly, except his eyes were filled with laughter. Penance sighed. Well, she was hungry. She just was not used to eating her meals under the intent stares of two grown men. She lifted the hot dog to her mouth, opened wide, and took a large bite.

Unfamiliar flavors filled her mouth, and she slowly chewed, trying to sort through each one. Surprisingly, she liked what she tasted. She quickly took another bite, and then another, until there was nothing left but crumbs.

"I t'ink she liked it," Gambit said.

The vendor snorted. "She led an even more deprived childhood than mine, if this is the first time she's had a hot dog."

Gambit wisely choose not to comment. Penance looked away, and stared down the street.

Deprived? She looked up at the city, the bright lights and store fronts glowing and winking in the shadows of night. The people walking by her--talking on their cell phones--wearing clothing whose cost would have fed her for a week back in Yugoslavia. Even New York City was clean and sleek, compared to what she had been used to. Deprived? she asked herself again. Maybe in material goods, Penance decided. But she had had a childhood, however brief, with parents who loved her. And when they were taken from her--Penance felt a shiver run up her spine, and she turned her mind away from those thoughts. Anne and the trees had helped her to accept those memories, but that could not stop the pain. She could still hear her mother's cries. . .

And then there had been the streets--no food, no real shelter--and no one to turn to. Clothing stained with the blood of her parents, hair matted, body scraped and bruised--Penance remembered laying down in the remains of a bombed apartment building, one week after her parents were killed, wishing that she would just die. Willing a soldier to stumble upon her and end her misery, since she could not bring herself to seek them out.

Alexi and Dimitri found her that night. The memory of them comforted Penance. Deprived, no. She had had love, and friends--friends that would risk their lives for her--had risked their lives. And lost them.

"Petite?"

Penance blinked, and lifted her head. Gambit stood before her, staring intently into her face. He didn't need to say a word for her to realize that he was concerned. Penance forced herself to smile. Her memories were nothing that he needed to be worried about. Only she could muck through the images of her past, and deal with them.

Even as she felt the false smile touch her lips, her ears caught the faintest hint of music over the cacophony of the surrounding city. Thankful for the distraction, Penance tore her eyes from Gambit's face and looked down the street, straining her ears. The rolling, steady beat of drums immediately impressed itself into her mind, and--was that a fiddle?

A long-forgotten memory surfaced in her mind. Her father, a huge bear of a man, perched on a small milking stool that groaned beneath his weight. She could remember looking up at him from her seat on the floor, enraptured as his hands--thick fingers and all--created music from a battered fiddle. . . and her mother would dance--amber eyes glowing--she would twirl around her seated husband and swing her daughter up into her arms. . .

Penance felt her legs moving before her mind fully registered her intent. She wanted to see those musicians--to get close enough so that she could feel the music and not just hear it. Throwing a shy smile over her shoulder at the vendor--who blinked in surprise--Penance grabbed Gambit's hand and began to pull him down the street after her. He quickly matched her pace.

"Where we goin', petite?" Gambit asked, looking from her face to the windows of brightly lit shops and restaurants, as though his answer might lay there.

Penance smiled, her eyes bright, and put a hand to her ear.

Gambit frowned, but a moment later his eyes cleared with understanding. He could hear the music just as well as Penance. At the intersection, Penance waited impatiently for the light to change. She could hear the fiddle clearly now, carried to her ears on the beat of the drum. Across the street lay a cluster of department stores, and before them was an open square with iron wrought benches and a fountain. A crowd had gathered beside the fountain, and as soon as the light changed, Penance walked towards the small gathering, pulling Gambit alongside her. Her heart beat a little faster as she approached the crowd of people, but she swallowed her nervousness.

Gambit followed her unresistingly, discretely watching her changing body language and the expression on her face as they neared the crowd. He wished he knew what she was thinking--what drove her to do the things that she did. This sudden fascination for music was just another surprise, but a pleasant one. Especially since he could clearly see her desire to hear the street band overcome her timidity. Gambit let his gaze drift down to Penance's eyes, soaking in the mix of nervous fear and excitement he saw there.

In some ways, he suddenly realized, she was still just a child. Sort of like him.

Homme, she is just fifteen, he told himself sardonically.

Yeah, another voice replied, but petite's seen more den some will in an entire lifetime. She got de experience so early d'ough, she din get no childhood. Not much more'n me.

People like them, Gambit thought, the ones that had to grow up fast--they took what little enjoyment they could, and savored it--kept the good times safe with a giddy sort of excitement. Because they might not come again.

Penance stopped at the far rim of the crowd, peering around the men and women in front of her for a better view of the musicians. Gambit could tell that her confidence was already fraying at the edges from coming this far. Squeezing her hand to reassure her, Gambit stepped in front of Penance, and tapped one woman on the shoulder. The blond, wearing tight jeans and a sports jacket, turned to look at him.

"'Cuse me, chere," he said, with what he knew was his most heart-stopping smile, "Mind if my niece and I step in fron' o' you?"

"Be my guest," the woman purred immediately. Several other women standing next to her--friends, he thought--snickered, but looked at him and Penance with friendly faces. Gambit directed his smile of thanks to them as well, and guided Penance past the women and to the front of the crowd. He chuckled as he caught the look in her eyes.

"Gambit de master at dis, petite," he bent down to whisper in her ear. Penance shook her head, her lips twitching suspiciously.

Gambit laughed outright at the expression on her face. It was the most normal display of emotion that he had seen in all the time he had known her. Progress, his mind whispered happily.

The street band that Penance had wanted to see consisted of only three people, playing what sounded like some jaunty Irish tune. A young man with dark, curly hair played the fiddle, while a skinny black man held a tin whistle to his lips. A woman with long blond hair sat cross legged on the ground, Bodhran perched in her lap, her hands working furiously to create the beat for her fellow performers. Her fingers flashed silver, and Gambit realized that thick, brightly polished rings covered her fingers.

She lifted her eyes to seemingly examine the crowd, hands still keeping the tumbling beat of the song, and Gambit felt a thrill of cold shock run down his spine. Her eyes were milky white, and they slid uncomprehendingly against the field of faces before her, his own included. Her skin was almost as pale as her eyes, though Gambit could make out a faint, pink flush that spread against her high cheekbones.

He tore his gaze from her face, and looked down at Penance. She was watching the musicians with rapt attention, swaying in time to the music. The music. Gambit shook his head slightly, bemused. He had been so intent on examining the woman, he had forgotten to listen to the music they were playing.

It was good, he realized. Hank had several CD's of this type of Irish music, which he played loudly in his lab whenever he needed "a little kick", as he described it. This small band sounded just the same or better than the ones that he listened to.

Perfect for dancing, he mused absently. Gambit paused, and looked down at Penance, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. He glanced at the band, and the amount of space separating them from the leading edge of the crowd. There was enough room, he decided.

Penance had no warning as Gambit suddenly stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the musicians. She opened her mouth in a silent gasp as both her hands were taken into his own, and he pulled her out of the safe anonymity of crowd. She stared at his face with wild eyes, and to her absolute dismay, he grinned.

Right there, in the middle of sidewalk, he began to dance with her. She felt her mouth open in soundless protest as he playfully twirled her around, his left arm loosely holding her waist. Penance had absolutely no idea what to do. She had danced only once before, to a song on a beat-up radio with a weak transmission. It had been a soft song, some romantic American tune, and it had been Alexi who had danced with her that night.

But this was different. This was fast, and the music was strong. And the people watching them. . . watching them. . . she could still see the eyes of the little boy, staring at her in shock and horror. . .

Don't let the world steal your heart, she unexpectedly heard Dimitri's voice, the words he had spoken long ago filling her mind. The moment you care, Yvette. . . the moment you let others dictate your life. . . that's when you've lost your heart. . .

But I don't want to lose my heart, she thought desperately.

So let go, Alexi's voice whispered inside of her head. Just let go of the pain. . . let go of the fear. . .

Penance looked up into Gambit's face. Light danced in his eyes as he whirled her around in a large circle. An unfamiliar sensation of content filled her chest, and suddenly, she didn't care what others thought of her. She didn't care if they saw a mutant or a silly young girl. She felt safe, and she was with a friend who was trying to make her happy. What more did she need?

A smile touched her lips, and it quickly spread into a wide grin that lit up her eyes.

***


By the time the street band finished playing, Gambit and Penance were both breathless. Penance's grin had faded into a more solemn expression, but Gambit could still see the sparkle in her eyes, and every second of their jaunt up until that moment became worth its weight in gold. The two of them approached the band, who were setting up for another song. Penance smiled shyly at the fiddler, who grinned back in return.

"Thanks for actin' like ye enjoyed our music," he said warmly with a distinct brogue.

"It did us a world o' good. Dose were some good tunes you were playin'." Gambit replied easily, dropping a tightly folded bill into the fiddle case they had open before them. He glanced down at the blond woman, who had looked up as soon as he had spoken.

"Hmmm. A Cajun," she said, smiling slightly.

Gambit grinned, and knelt down beside her. "You got a good ear, chere."

She smiled her thanks, eyes staring sightlessly past his left ear. Then, she turned her head, directing her gaze over her shoulder. "Billy?" she asked the black man, who had begun to drink from an old water bottle. "You think we have enough to quit for tonight?"

"Don't see why not. I could use a break anyway."

"Ye just want tae see Kelly," the fiddler laughed, already putting away his instrument in a spare case separate from the one they used for the collection of earnings.

"It's late anyway." The woman beside Gambit said. "I promised my boss I would get to work early tomorrow."

She started to rise, and Gambit took her hand and wordlessly helped her to her feet.

"Thank you," she smiled.

The fiddler chuckled, glancing at Penance and then Gambit--who still held her hand. "Looks like ye caught another one, Mary."

Mary shook her head, a long-suffering smile tugging at her lips. "Please excuse Danny," she told Gambit, eyes sweeping past his face in an arc that encompassed Penance as well.

"Not'ing to excuse, chere," Gambit replied immediately, reluctantly releasing her hand. "You t'ree play here often?"

"A couple times a week when the weather's good," Billy answered. "It's just a little something extra we like to do, in addition to our day jobs."

"Keeps life from gettin' tae boring," Danny answered with a quick grin. He cocked his head, and held out his hand towards Penance. She hesitated, and then took it.

Danny looked at Penance strangely, his eyes drifting down to her hand. Gambit stiffened. The illusion was just that--Danny was not feeling warm flesh in his hand, but the hard, leathery grip of an adamantium laced glove. Penance too, stiffened, realizing her mistake in letting him touch her.

To Gambit's surprise though, Danny's features relaxed, and he shook Penance's hand.

"M'name is Danny Blair," he told her.

Penance took a deep breath and looked at him, and then Gambit, helplessly.

"Petite can' talk," he explained quickly. He felt Mary stir beside him. "Her name is Penny. She's my niece."

"And you are. . . ?" Mary asked.

"Remy LeBeau, chere."

"Well Remy, it's been nice meeting the two of you, but we should really get going."

Gambit surprised himself by feeling a stab of disappointment, which was immediately accompanied by guilt. He had already hurt Rogue--he had no business even looking at other women when the outcome would probably be the same.

Jus' can' help myself, he thought.

Gambit took Mary's hand, and lifted it to his lips where he placed a light kiss. Her pale cheeks reddened slightly, which brought a twinkle to his eyes. He freed her hand amidst badly stifled laughter from Billy and Danny, and turned to Penance.

"Come on, petite. We best be lettin' dese folks go."

"Yes," Mary agreed, though she did not sound so sure of herself.

"Good-bye, Penny," Danny said, his dark eyes bright with laughter.

Penance smiled, lifting her hand to give him a small wave with her fingers.

***


"Charmer," Mary muttered to herself when she was sure they were well out of hearing range.

"Face it," Billy told her, pulling a knapsack over his shoulder. "You loved the attention."

Mary snorted in response.

"There was something different about them, though," Danny mused, eyes serious. "Penny was not what she seemed."

"Nothing to be worried about, right?" Billy asked.

Danny shook his head. "Nah. They're mutants, though."

"Big deal," Mary said. She hesitated.

"So, was he as sexy as he sounded?"

***


"You havin' fun, petite?" Gambit asked, after looking over his shoulder for one more glimpse of Mary. Penance flashed him a smile, blue eyes lighting up. Gambit chuckled, and patted her on the shoulder.

In fact, Penance felt like she was walking on air. She could not remember the last time she had felt so free. The realization she had had while dancing with Gambit had changed the way she looked at herself, and although she could not completely rid herself of her lingering feelings of uncertainty and fear, they did not consume her thoughts as they had earlier.

And then there was Danny. He had known she was a mutant--she could see it in his eyes the moment he took her hand. For one moment, her heart had stopped. Then, he had smiled.

It didn't matter to him that she was a mutant. He couldn't care less, and she read that in his face and in his voice as he introduced himself. That little bit of kindness from a stranger was part of the reason why she was feeling so good at the moment. Penance glanced up at Gambit, who was looking into the display case of the department store they were walking past. Really, she decided, it was Gambit that she had to thank for all of this.

A little breeze swept the hair back from his ruggedly handsome features, and Penance could not help but notice how several passing women stared. One of the them, an attractive brunette, met Penance's gaze. The woman flashed her an open grin, and with a significant glance at Gambit, mouthed the words "you're lucky' to Penance.

Penance felt her cheeks warm, and an unexpected rush of pride swept through her body. Pride, and something else.

I am lucky, she realized. Despite every bad thing that had happened to her--her parents being murdered; living on the streets; torture at the hands of soldiers, and later, Emplate--the realization that she was fortunate persisted. Here she stood, thousands of miles away from the source of all the suffering she had been dealt in life, at the side of a new friend. Not only that, but around her the cement and steel of an American city rose up to the sky, the embodiment of an old dream.

I wish you were here, Alexi. You and Dimitri, both.

Images flashed through her mind--Alexi and Dimitri taking her aside before one of her message runs--hugging her tightly. Leaning against a cold, cracked cement wall, the only light seeping in from a hole above them--Alexi pressing his lips on her own for the first time--

"Be careful, Yvette. These messages aren't worth your life."

But they had been worth the lives of others. She remembered leaving them, walking into the sunlight--just another child on the streets of the ruined city. Then the soldiers had come, sweeping down like hawks with their guns and their rough hands that left bruises for days afterwards on her arms and body.

She had screamed--clawing and kicking at their hands and legs until one of the men hit her in the face with his fist. She remembered her head snapping back--

--and hearing Alexi and Dimitri howl her name.

They had followed her--caught up in time to hear her screams and see her hit. But they had no guns--only rocks and their fists--and Penance watched them gunned down by the soldiers surrounding her. Saw their faces as the bullets entered their bodies--their eyes locked on her own.

Alexi. . . please, please. . . I can't be alone again. . . Dimitri. . .

And the soldiers laughed, dragging her away to their jeep--and then a cell--where they came every night for answers. . . and their games...

"Petite?" Gambit's voice brought Penance from her memories, and she lifted her eyes. Gambit threw her an easy grin, and pushed an illusory strand of blond hair away from her face. His grin turned to a frown as he looked deeper into her eyes, and he pulled her out of the foot traffic into a nearby alley, affording them a little privacy.

"Petite," he said urgently. "Gambit's watched you all evening--watched you be happy, den sad, and back an' forth more times'n I can 'member. It's not just de city, is it? What's hurtin' you, petite?"

Penance opened and closed her mouth, staring at the pain in his face--pain he was feeling, she realized, because she was hurting. Penance pulled off one of her gloves, and walked up to the wall behind Gambit. He followed her, watching intently as she began to scratch a message into the cement.

--memories-- she wrote. --I have so many memories--

"Dey can't all be bad, can dey?" Gambit asked, leaning against the wall beside her message.

Penance shook her head.

--but remembering my friends, and thinking of how much they would have loved this city is sad for me--

Gambit lowered his eyes. "They aren't alive anymore, are dey," he stated. Penance did not even need to shake her head in response. One look into her eyes was enough. Gambit sighed, and pulled her into his arms. He held her tightly, and Penance snaked her arms around his waist. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and she buried her face into his chest.

"Nothin' wrong wit' grieving, petite. No one's gonna see it 'cept me, and dis Cajun won' ever tell anyone."

Penance pulled away, and rubbed at her eyes. She reached for the stone wall once again.

--thank you--

He smiled sadly. "Gambit had a hard childhood, too. D'ere was never anyt'ing for me but de streets. . . and de pain. . . "

Gambit sighed, and shook his head. "It takes time, petite."

--and friends-- she scratched out, looking at him hesitantly.

"An' friends," he agreed solemnly. "D'ere's nothin' more precious den dat." He placed a strong hand on her shoulder. "You won' ever have t'be alone again, petite."

Neither will you, she thought, hugging him one more time.

***


Angelo leaned back against the club's window, trying to fight the sensation that he would fall through and hit street level with a splat. It was unsettling being in a club where even the floors were transparent. But here he was, leaning against a single paned window that he could probably break without too much trouble. It would be better if there were chairs to sit on, but he hadn't been able to find any of those.

He shifted position, and winced as his shirt slid abrasively against his chest.

Can't believe Ev was right about the chafing. . . .

As if his thoughts had summoned him, Everett appeared out of the dance crowd, holding Cokes in both hands.

"Thirsty?" he offered one of the drinks to his friend.

"Thanks, amigo," Angelo said, taking a Coke and downing it in several long gulps. "You seen Jono anywhere?"

::Right here.:: Jono responded immediately. Everett and Angelo craned their necks looking for him, but they couldn't see him anywhere.

::Um, sorry. I just picked up your thoughts and answered without thinking. I'll be over there in a minute.::

"So, where's that redhead you were talking to a minute ago?" Everett asked Angelo as they waited.

Angelo shrugged. "She was a ditz, you know?"

"In other words, she found someone better?"

Angelo glared at Everett, but couldn't hold the expression for long. A chuckle escaped from his mouth and he shook his head ruefully. "Yeah. Some six foot muscle man walked by, and I didn't exist after she saw him."

"Happens, man. Don't let it get to you."

::Yeah.:: Jono added, joining them at that moment. ::If it's meant to be, you'll know it.::

Angelo snorted, eyes drifting down to the city street below them. "Look at the three of us. We came to New York to have a wild and crazy time, and what are we doing at the end of the night? We're being all introspective."

Everett shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that," he said. "Besides, you can't say that we didn't have a good time."

::It wasn't bad.:: Jono agreed quietly.

"I guess," Angelo said, eyes brightening. "But I still thi--"

He stopped in mid-sentence, staring intently down at the street. "Is that Gambit?" he asked suddenly, peering through the glass.

"Where?" Everett and Jono stepped up to the window, and followed the direction of their friend's gaze.

"It is Gambit," Everett said. He narrowed his eyes. "Who's that with him?"

Angelo did a double take. "Don't know, but she's kind of cute. A little young for him, though."

::Blimey.:: Jono whispered in their minds, and he began to push his way through the crowd towards the stairs.

Everett and Angelo looked at each other. "What the hell was that all about?" Angelo asked.

***


It was around eleven-thirty when Gambit and Penance began to walk back to the garage where he had parked his motorcycle. The streets still teemed with people, and there was light everywhere. Penance no longer felt the need to hold Gambit's hand, but she still walked close to him, their elbows brushing as they made their way down the sidewalk.

When they were several blocks from the garage, Penance began to notice a steady increase of people her age roaming the street. The low rumble of music drifted to her ears, growing steadily louder.

"Look at dat," Gambit said, pointing ahead of them towards a distant building. Penance narrowed her eyes, straining her vision for a better look. What she saw made her jaw drop in surprise. She was staring at a building made of glass. Four stories high, the only things that weren't transparent were the steel girders holding everything together. Looking up from the street, she could make out hundreds of people milling around on the inside, most of them dancing to the music that seeped out into the streets.

"You want to go in dere?" Gambit asked her.

Penance immediately shook her head. Even if her confidence had been restored to normal, she would never have enjoyed being in such a confined space with so many people. Much better out here on the street, with the wind in her face and the hint of stars in the sky above her head.

They walked around the crowds of passerby's staring at the club, stopping at the intersection to wait for the light to change. As they waited, Penance turned around for one last look at the glass building.

Gambit immediately felt her stiffen beside him. "Petite?" he asked, squeezing her hand. She glanced at him, and then beckoned with wide eyes back towards the club. Gambit followed the direction of her gaze, and quickly stifled a chuckle of surprise.

Who would 'ave t'ought. . .

Jono, eyes glued on Penance, was forcing his way through the crowds of young people flooding the street--none too gently, he noticed, paying close attention to the irritated expressions the young man left in his wake. Finally though, Jono managed to escape from the crowds surrounding the club, and he came to an abrupt halt before Gambit and Penance. He stared for so long at his former teammate, she began to stir uncomfortably.

::Penance?:: he asked finally, eyes searching the illusion of her face.

She nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. Jono's eyes widened in amazement, and he looked up at Gambit for the first time since approaching them. The Cajun inclined his head with a grin, which widened as Jono stepped close. Hesitantly, eyes flickering to Penance's face, he reached out and took her hand. He fingered the illusion of her palm, and Gambit knew that he was feeling the glove covering her skin.

::You've been in the city all evening?:: he asked them both, though Gambit sensed the question was an attempt to cover his surprise at seeing Penance, out and in the open. He still held her hand in a light grip, and showed no signs of releasing her.

"Petite needed a break from de Mansion," Gambit answered easily. "Same for you?" he asked.

Jono stirred. ::Basically. Angelo and Everett are here, too. Inside the club.::

"Boys night out?" Gambit asked.

He shrugged, his eyes falling back on Penance. Jono could not help but be amazed by the changes that had come over her in the short time she had been with the X-Men, and he knew that his feelings had nothing to do with the illusion cast around her. No image-inducer could ever generate the confidence and security that he could feel emanating from her. Oh, he could sense that her new found strength was shaky, but still, this was not the same girl who had hid in the shadows of the biosphere, afraid of the sun and strangers. Penance was becoming someone else entirely.

::Would you like to come into the club, Penny? Maybe dance a little?:: Jono asked impulsively, feeling foolish as soon as the words left his mind.

Penance stared up at Jono, her eyes widening. Jono was asking her to go dancing with him? Her? Penance glanced at Gambit, the Cajun throwing her a sly smile. He obviously thought she should go with him, but entering the club--all those strangers, confined. . .

The decision was taken away from her when she heard Everett and Angelo calling Jono's name. Penance started, and withdrew her hand from Jono's. He was unable to hide the disappointment in his eyes, and Penance lowered her gaze, for some reason feeling embarrassed.

"Hey, Jono!" Angelo said, running up. He nodded a greeting towards Gambit, his eyes lingering on Penance. There was no recognition there--only curiosity. Everett looked at her with the same expression, and Penance realized that she liked the fact that they didn't know who she was.

"Mr. LeBeau." Everett greeted Gambit, his eyes falling on Penance. "Who is your friend?"

Penance threw Gambit a quick warning glance, and he hesitated before answering.

"My niece," he told them finally. Jono looked at him in surprise, but his eyes crinkled with laughter as he noticed the smile tugging on Penance's lips.

"Oh," Angelo said, his eyes darting between Gambit's face and Penance's. "I think I can see the resemblance," he added lamely.

Gambit coughed, and Penance inclined her head towards Angelo, her eyes dancing.

"You seem familiar," Everett told her.

"Mus' be de family resemblance," Gambit replied, grinning.

Angelo frowned, eyes thoughtful. "Well, I think we better get going. We promised Sean we'd be back by one o'clock, and it's almost twelve. We'll barely make it as it is."

"Yeah," Everett agreed. He smiled at Penance and Gambit. "Nice seeing you two," he said.

::It was very nice.:: Jono added, sharing a silent laugh with Penance and Gambit. He shook hands with Gambit, and then took Penance's hand in his own, gently squeezing her fingers. She smiled at him, and Jono felt his eyes crinkling in response.

"Come on, Jono," Angelo called.

Jono sighed mentally. ::See you later, Penny. I'll come up and visit soon, I promise.::

Penance nodded, and let her hand slip out of his own. Throwing her a backwards glance, Jono walked after Everett and Angelo, the boys waiting for him a little distance away.

"Dat was a surprise," Gambit said, still smiling. He looked down at Penance, noting how she watched Jono walk away with a mixture of happiness and reflection in her eyes.

A good surprise, he thought cheerfully.

***


"That was not his niece," Angelo stated, as they climbed into the jeep.

::Oh?:: Jono exclaimed innocently.

"You're right, Ange," Everett agreed, claiming the front seat. "But why would he lie about something like that?"

Angelo frowned. "Well, what if he and she are. . . well. . . you know."

"He's twice her age!" Everett exclaimed.

Jono shook his head, a mixture of amusement and disgust on his face. ::You guys are too much.::

"Yeah? Well, who is she then? She didn't even tell us her name!"

::You already know it.:: he replied shortly, starting the car and pulling out into traffic.

"She did seem familiar," Everett mused thoughtfully.

"Not to me," Angelo replied, folding his arms across his chest.

Jono smiled inwardly. This was just too good.

***


Gambit cut the engine of his motorcycle, and patted Penance's arms, which were still wrapped tightly around his waist. He was sure she had fallen asleep more than once on the ride back, her grip growing alternately weak and strong over the forty minutes or so they had been on the road.

"We're home, peite," he told her softly. She stirred against his back, and sluggishly climbed off his bike. She stood there, looking at him for a long moment, and reached down to her waist. With a soft click, the illusion surrounding her dissolved and the real Penance appeared.

"Gambit din' disappoint you t'night, did he?" he asked softly, trying to interpret the expression on her face.

Penance shook her head vehemently, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Her eyes told him all he needed to know, and he smiled in relief. He hugged her back, amazed at the connection he felt to her. This girl was like kin to him--like family, pure and simple.

"You go on t'bed now, petite. Gambit knows you're tired."

Penance smiled at him, briefly placing her hand over his heart. Her eyes shone with gratitude.

Thank you.

And then she was gone, melting from one shadow into the next until Gambit heard the front door of the Mansion open and close.

He sat on his bike for a long time, listening to the sounds of the night, breathing in the cooling air. So much had happened tonight. Who would have thought a night on the town could do so much for healing her old wounds?

An maybe mine, Gambit thought. He and Penance were so much alike. If she could heal--overcome the memories and the pain--then maybe he could too.

"You and the kid have a good time?" A voice intruded on his thoughts, and Gambit jumped. He turned just in time to see Logan materialize out of the shadows.

"Not bad," Gambit replied, settling back down on his bike. "She's got a lot o' bad mem'ries t'deal wit', but tonight helped. She needed t'get out o' here for a little while."

"So did you," Logan observed.

"How's Anne?" Gambit asked, changing the subject.

Logan stirred, eyes thoughtful. "She's better. It'll take time fer her ta heal, though."

"Everyt'ing takes time," Gambit said, looking up at the sky. "But she'll get better."

"Kind o' like Penance?" Logan asked shrewdly.

Gambit smiled to himself.

"Just like dat," he whispered.



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