Notes in first part.
Hearts of Fire: Part Two
by Ascian
We dream--it is good we are dreaming--
It would hurt us--were we awake--
But since it is playing--kill us,
And we are playing--shriek--
~Emily Dickinson
//Underground--the stench of blood and shit is overpowering--he fights not to gag and fails--his stomach turns inside out within his throat. Ugly--the only light comes from fire--fueled by bodies--burning. Creed--reaches into the flames and pulls out a small charred limb--takes a bite--tastes like chicken he says. He laughs--the others are still laughing--and he brought them here--led them--and the blood is soaking through his boots--through his flesh into his soul--there are children crying--crying--he is crying--he cannot stop the others--bleeding--dying--he picks up a little girl and runs--he runs--and she is screaming--//
Gambit's eyes snapped open. He could still hear the screams--the shrill, tortured cries--and he held himself very still, trying to calm the frantic racing of his heart. Blood roared in his ears, and he forced himself to unclench his fingers from their death grip around the bunched up sheets.
'Dreams,' he told himself, taking a deep breath. 'Jus' dreams.'
Dreams of the past--memories to be relived.
One of his memories was curled up on a corner of his bed, a blanket thrown over her thin body. Marrow was sleeping, and Gambit tried to remember how she had gotten there. He finally gave up, guessing that she had come in to check on him and had fallen asleep. He did not mind. It was better that they remain close together, at least for now. The safehouse was no longer safe, but under the circumstances, Gambit could not think of a better place to go to that was close by. There was the Guild, but he did not want to draw an enemy there, especially one that seemed to have no trouble at all breaching his very best defenses. The X-Men might be able to help, but he was loathe to call them in for something that he felt very responsible for fixing. 'Too much pride,' he thought, and tasted something bitter in his mouth.
He checked the clock beside the bed, and discovered that it was nearly eight in the evening. He had slept for most of the day.
'Tol' Marrow not t'let me sleep dat long.'
But she had fallen asleep too, and he could not blame her for that. She needed the rest, and it was he who should have been caring for her, and not the other way around. It was hard, he realized, working with only one another person as a partner. It was different than in a team, where there were usually at least four or five other people to share the burden of a difficult task. And it was far different from working solo, which as a thief he had often been forced to do. No, being partnered with only one person for a prolonged period of time was a very different experience all together. The responsibilities, the losses--they were greater. But then, so were the rewards.
He began to untangle himself from the snarled mess he had made of the sheets, and Marrow stirred.
"Time to leave?" she asked, her voice startlingly clear despite the bleary look on her face.
Gambit nodded. "We've stayed here too long already."
Marrow rolled gracefully off her corner of the bed, showing no sign that she still suffered from any discomfort. "I'll be ready in ten."
Sooner, if he knew her at all. He quickly put on some clean clothes from the stash he kept in the closet, and padded down the hall towards the kitchen. The door to the bathroom was closed, and he could hear the sound of running water. He smiled. Marrow did not fool anyone with her belligerence. Not anymore. 'Upworlder scum, my ass', he thought. 'You're one o' dem now, petite, an' you love it.'
As he chewed on an apple (a little stolen Shi'ar technology hardwired into his refrigerator did wonders for keeping food fresh for inordinate amounts of time), he replayed the events of the past twenty-four hours in his head.
Obviously, someone knew that he and Marrow had kidnapped the woman, and the vendetta against them was a personal one. Marrow's assailant, whether or not it was the same person who had delivered the boxed heart to the hotel, had been a mutant. Fairly powerful, too. A relative of the woman? Her file, when his father had first presented the job to him, had not mentioned siblings or cousins.
Marrow entered the kitchen five minutes later, hair still damp. The delicate bones of her forehead spiraled upwards and beads of water still hung from them. She was dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a tight pink tank top that barely hid the tangled web of cuts and bruises on her chest. Gambit clenched his jaw.
Marrow strapped the image inducer to her waist. "I'm ready to go."
Gambit tossed her an apple. "Eat dis on de way out. We'll try t'find some more, later."
She nodded, taking a deep bite of the red fruit as she followed Gambit out of the kitchen. She turned on the image inducer just before they reached the front door. The metal hatch slid open as they approached, the lights clicked off behind them, the little wooden door swung open, and then they were back into the world, surrounded by heat and darkness. Marrow instantly missed Gambit's opulent little hidey-hole, well-lit and filled with color. 'Soft,' she threatened herself. 'You're getting too soft.'
Or maybe, she thought, she was finally beginning to appreciate life as something more than just survival.
It was easier to escape the inner tangle of old town paths and alleys than it had been to enter, and before long Marrow and Gambit found themselves on a crowded street that had been shut off to traffic. The smell of alcohol was everywhere, and the lights from bars, restaurants, and music joints blazed brighter than fire. The air and the throngs of people were both smothering, and Marrow took a deep breath.
"Now what?" she asked, trying to ignore the sweat running down her back.
Gambit never answered her. He stood, frozen, staring ahead of him with an expression of shock on his face. Marrow followed the direction of his gaze. "Fuck," she swore, when her eyes found what had caught her friend's attention.
It was the blonde woman. There, on the corner of the street, not more than fifteen feet away. Staring at them.
She seemed different, somehow. The edges of her body were harder, sharp like a blade, and her cheek bones stood out in intense, pale relief against the shadows of her face. The woman's eyes were almost lost in those shadows, but Marrow saw them glint once, like fine obsidian slivers caught in the light. The dress, flimsy and clinging, was the same one the woman had been wearing the night before, but it too, seemed different. Like some of the color had been bleached away, stolen from the fabric. There was not a trace of sweat on her body.
The woman sneered, her lips twisting and pulling into a hateful, mocking rictus.
"Remy--" Marrow started, and then choked as the woman's hand shot upwards. Pain stabbed through Marrow's chest, and she stumbled. Gambit caught her with one hand, while the other deftly reached through the illusion of her arm and plucked a bone dart from her wrist sheath. It glowed between his fingers, and then it was gone, flying through the air towards the blonde woman--
--and harmlessly passing through her body, exploding with a loud bang behind her. Several people screamed, and Marrow, gasping for breath, felt the pulse of the street change. Fear--terror--from the men and women around them filled the air like a scent, and Marrow dimly realized that some of that fear was her own.
"No," she growled, forcing herself to straighten. No.
She met the woman's eyes. The sneer widened, and the pain in Marrow's chest suddenly disappeared. Blood roared in her ears--she could feel her heart pounding, thundering.
"You caught her," the woman said triumphantly, her voice somehow carrying over the frightened murmurs of the crowd. "But not us. Not us, ever."
She stepped backwards and melted into the throng of people. Gambit started forward, and then stopped.
"Go!" Marrow told him, shoving his shoulder with one hand. "I'll be fine."
He stared at her for one brief second, and then ducked into a run that sent him hurtling through the crowd. Marrow took a deep, halting breath, imagining for a moment that she felt her heart skip a beat. Ignoring the deep ache inside her chest, she took off after him.
Faces, light, sound--they all passed her in a blur. Her feet pounded into the sidewalk, twisting and jumping as she dodged and skimmied through drunk party-goers and tourists. She could see Gambit's head, bobbing up and down far ahead of her, and she pushed herself to catch him, to not let him face the woman by himself. 'He needs me,' she told herself, not caring if it was a lie.
Marrow caught a glimpse of Gambit just as he disappeared through the thrown open doors of a golden-lit casino. She pushed and shoved--the crowds were thick here, the heat stifling despite a breath of air conditioning--and burst through the entrance. She saw Gambit immediately, and jogged over to his side. Sweat poured down his face and his T-shirt was soaked. Several people stared, but Marrow ignored them. She scanned the room, the crowd. There was no sign of the blonde woman.
"Where is she?"
"Don' know," he said. "She ran fast--hard t'tell if her feet even touched de ground."
Marrow remembered how the charged dart had flown right through the woman's body. "The Guild really fucked up, Remy. I thought she was only supposed to burn things, not cause heart attacks and pull a Kitty Pryde on people."
"Surprised me, too," he muttered. "But I'm t'inking dis ain't de same woman."
Marrow stared at him. "She's a got a twin?"
Gambit narrowed his eyes, and grabbed Marrow's arm. "Dere," he said, pointing. There was a break in the crowd, and Marrow caught a glimpse of blonde hair and a mocking smile.
This time, Marrow did not wait. She leapt forward, her fingers sharpening and elongating as she charged through the gamblers stuffed inside the casino. 'I'm going to kill her', she thought. She was not exactly sure how, but she was determined to do it. One way or another.
Marrow knocked over several people in her haste to get to the woman, her gaze locked on the blonde shock of hair framing the bleached, yet shadowed face. It was strange--even in this brightly lit place, there seemed to be a lack of *life* to the young woman. The night before she had been dancing, singing along with the live band at the street concert. Vibrant. Alive. This version looked like she had been sleeping for most of her life in a shallow grave. And enjoying it, too. 'And why,' Marrow suddenly wondered. 'Hasn't she tried to burn my heart up to a crisp?' Maybe this woman really was a twin.
Marrow remembered what had happened to the dart Gambit had thrown, but she still took a long swipe at the blonde's face when she got close enough. Her fingers passed harmlessly through the white flesh, causing several bystanders to gasp (and, she thought, to faint--although she was not about to turn her head to check for sure) and the woman's face twisted into a scathing grin.
"Oh," she mocked. "I think I felt that."
Marrow felt a solid presence at her shoulder. It was Gambit, and she could feel the heat and tense energy of his body against her own. "Who are you?" he asked. "You're not *her*, dat's for sure."
This time, the smile was somewhat bitter. The shadows of her face, looking increasingly unnatural considering the bright lights of the casino, seemed to lengthen. "I'm Samantha," she answered, in a tone that implied that they should somehow recognize the name.
"That doesn't mean shit to me," Marrow snarled. She felt a restraining hand on her arm, and tried to calm herself. It was very, very difficult.
"You de other girl's sister?" Gambit asked, keeping his voice low, almost conversational. Marrow quivered beneath his grip, and his fingers tightened. //Calm down//, he seemed to be saying to her. //Breathe and let me talk.//
Samantha laughed, and the sound seemed to chill the air around them. "Dana? A sister? More like our captor." She tilted her head, and regarded them thoughtfully with her black, glinting eyes. "Still, it wasn't very nice of you, kidnapping Dana like that. Then again, the deep sedatives your friends have been giving her allowed us to free ourselves, and that hasn't happened in a very long time."
"Merde," Gambit breathed.
"Exactly," Samantha said, her voice hardening. "And you are in a lot of it. Margaret's more lenient than Diane and I--carving out that heart was a good enough threat by her standards. But not by ours. We may hate Dana, but we're stuck with her--and you and your little bitch-friend hurt her, kidnapped her body."
Gambit yanked hard on Marrow's arm and pulled her behind him. She struggled, but his fingers were like steel and she could not loosen his grip. "Why Sarah?" he asked, his voice low and angry. "Why not kill me? I planned your--Dana's--kidnapping."
Samantha made a clicking noise with her tongue and shook her head. "Oh, but you're…delicious. Just our type. Your friend is not."
They were fighting a losing battle, Marrow realized. This Samantha--whatever else she turned out to be--was a killer. More importantly, she *liked* to kill. Marrow had felt the lust for blood often enough to be able to recognize it in someone else. All Gambit could do now was buy them time until they figured out what to do. 'I hope he's got some ideas', she thought. Samantha's last statement had seemed a little irrational.
But apparently not all that irrational to Gambit. His body relaxed--although his grip around Marrow's arm did not--and when he spoke, his voice was soft as honey. "Delicious, chere? I'm more'n dat. Leave de girl alone, and I'll show you. And your…friends."
"Hmmm…tempting." She lifted one finger, and Marrow gasped as her chest suddenly tightened. "But no go."
"'Fraid you would say dat," Gambit muttered. He shoved Marrow away from him, away from Samantha. They were standing in the middle of the casino's lobby, and there was a large, ornate fountain near them--a deep, bronze dish with cherubs and dolphins leaping about in frozen glory. Gambit placed his hands on its rim, and an instant later the entire structure began to glow.
"Run!" he shouted at Marrow. She was having trouble breathing, her heart feeling as though it was being punched and clawed at. She stumbled backwards, and then forced herself to stop. 'Not without Gambit', she thought. She was not going to leave him. She could hear Samantha laughing, but Marrow did not take her eyes off of Gambit. She wondered if he recognized the resolve in her eyes, because a moment later his jaw tightened and he tore his gaze from her face. The glow from the fountain was hot, bright, burning. Even the water flowed red, like electrically charged blood.
Gambit flung himself away from the charged brass fountain. In almost the same movement, he took two great bounds towards Marrow, and threw himself at her. He knocked the breath out of her already strained lungs as he tackled her to the ground, but she forgave him, when a moment later the room exploded around them.
She did not know what was worse--the shaking, the thunderous noise, or the falling debris. Gambit spread himself over her body, his nose pressed into her temple as she curled into a ball beneath him. She felt hot liquid mist her face, and an orange, dusty plume spread over their heads. Parts of the ceiling narrowly missed them, along with one particularly heavy looking bronze statue that tipped over right by her face. Gambit never budged, not for the entire time, and for one brief, terrifying moment, Marrow imagined that he was dead.
Then she felt his nose stir her hair, and she began to breathe again.
"I'm goin' t'have a headache," he muttered, and rolled off of her.
The lobby was in ruins. Luckily, no one around them seemed seriously hurt, although Marrow was in no mood to play nurse and find out for sure. She could hear plenty of moans and crying, which meant that people were still alive. That was good enough for her. Especially since Samantha was gone and the crushing pressure had been lifted from her chest.
"Y'hurt?" Gambit asked, his voice rough. There were some scratches on his face and arms, but for the most part he seemed whole and healthy. Another miracle.
Marrow shook her head. "What did you do to Samantha?"
"Distracted her. I t'ink." He wearily rubbed at his face with one hand. "We need t'get to de Guild. Fast."
"Call them," Marrow said, as they climbed to their feet. She absently rubbed her breastbone. "Tell your papa to wake up that girl. I'm getting tired of having a heart attack every ten minutes."
Gambit nodded. "I just hope she--Dana--is more understanding dan de other personalities swimmin' around in her head."
"How's this happening, Remy?"
"Don' know," he replied grimly, quickly leading her out of the building. They could hear sirens, and they darted into the milling crowd of onlookers. "I t'ink," he said a little later, as they scrambled down the street, "dat dis girl we kidnapped has a split personality--or t'ree--dat she somehow kept buried 'til de Guild doctors put her under. But de manifestations of dese personalities can't do de t'ings Dana can. Dis Samantha--she can't burn hearts, but she can squeeze de life out o' dem. Same wit de one dat attacked you last night, 'cept she was invisible. And de heart dat was left for us? De other personality must be able to rip dem out."
"Isn't that nice," Marrow sniped, fighting to get a good breath. The heat was bothering her--that, and a tired ache in her chest that seemed to travel down her body into her legs. Gambit pulled a tiny cell phone out of his pocket, and as they continued to run down the sidewalk, he dialed up his father. He did not talk for long, and after a few brief exchanges, he tucked the phone away.
"Didn't know you had a cell phone," Marrow muttered, trying not to sound as out of breath as she felt.
"De cell phone's not secure, but it comes in handy sometimes."
"What'd he say?"
"Dat he'd pull de plug himself." There was a distinct note of worry in Gambit's voice.
'Sure,' Marrow thought. 'Think about who his dad is going to wake up.'
They ran for another minute before Gambit spotted a cab and hailed it down. Tumbling into the air-conditioned interior, Marrow allowed herself to fall back against the plastic seat covers and catch her breath. She had a feeling she would need every bit of her strength when they finally reached the Guild. Whatever--whoever--was inside the woman they had kidnapped would not take kindly to their efforts to wake her up, which at the moment seemed to be the key to controlling them.
The drive to the Guild mansion did not take long--Gambit tipped the driver one hundred dollars to get them there in under five minutes, and he did, breaking several laws (as well as speeding records) in the process. Marrow was suitably impressed.
Security was waiting outside the main gates, and they all raced through the mansion, nearly sliding down the stairs in their haste to reach the underground medical facility. It was chaos down below, and they passed several people stretched out on the ground, men and women crouched above their chests and open mouths, performing CPR. Marrow reached into her arm sheath and pulled out a long bone dagger that sucked at the air as it left her body. It felt good to hold a weapon, even if she might not be able to use it.
They found Jean-Luc near the entrance to the blonde woman's room, propped up against the wall. A young woman was holding an oxygen mask over his face, but he tore it away when he saw his son. "Don' go in dere," he gasped. "She nearly killed me, an' mebbe some others."
"You unplug de girl?"
His father nodded, but the action seemed to cost him. His head began to loll to one side, but he fought the hand that tried to put the mask back over his face. "She's not wakin' up," he told them. "We put her too far under."
Gambit closed his eyes, and took a long, deep breath. "Sarah--"
"I'm coming with you," she said, and to keep him from arguing, she dodged past him and threw herself at the closed door of the sleeping woman's room. It burst open beneath her shoulder, and she felt Gambit's presence immediately at her back.
The first thing she saw was Dana, eyes closed and asleep on her bed. And then she looked a little to the right and there was Samantha, her face unrecognizably twisted with rage.
"How dare you," she hissed. Samantha flicked her fingers, and Marrow braced herself. Only, there was no pressure, no constriction or pain.
Behind her, Gambit gasped. Marrow turned just in time to see him clutch his chest, his face turning a deathly shade of white. He fell to the floor, his knees hitting the tile with a loud crack. Marrow immediately scrambled over to Dana's beside and raised the bone dagger. She locked gazes with Samantha, and for one moment, a flicker of doubt appeared over the other woman's face. Gambit still lay on the ground, fighting for breath. Samantha narrowed her eyes, and Marrow wheezed in pain.
"Stop," Samantha said. "I'll kill you."
"Like I care," Marrow threw back. Fighting for strength, she looked down at the sleeping woman. So peaceful. Her face was serene, quiet. There was no sign of the evil that lived within her. She was, Marrow felt, an innocent in all of this.
"You kill her, your friend is a dead man."
Darkness was creeping in at the edges of Marrow's vision, and her heart--she could feel it shuddering to a stop, each beat slower, more labored. "If I let you live," she replied hoarsely, lungs burning. "He might as well be dead."
Marrow plunged her bone dagger into the sleeping woman's heart, grinding the calcified shaft through flesh and bone. From behind, she heard a guttural scream that abruptly snapped off into silence. The pressure disappeared from her chest, but Marrow could feel it was too late. Too much damage done.
She slumped to the ground, unconscious.
***
Epilogue
What harm? Men die--externally--It is a truth--of Blood--But we--are dying in Drama--And Drama--is never dead--~Emily Dickinson
This time, she came to inside the Guild's infirmary. An IV was plugged into her arm, along with several monitors that beeped and whirred. The lights were glaringly fluorescent, and hurt her eyes. She would have much rather come back to consciousness with Remy's lips on her mouth, on the floor of his decadently furnished safehouse.
Her chest ached. Her throat was dry. She wanted to see a familiar face.
"Remy?" she wheezed, dreading that someone else might come--someone who would tell her that the last memory of her friend would have to be of a dying, curled up body, face wracked with pain.
There was a rustle, and then her fears dissolved away into a pleasant tingle of relief. Gambit appeared at the side of her bed. His eyes, red on black, were filled with worry, and she could swear there were lines at the corner of his mouth that had not been there earlier.
"Glad you're awake," he whispered.
"My heart--"
"Is fine. Doctors said de heart muscle showed incredible signs of stress, but dat you'd be up an' kickin' ass in no time at all. Heightened mutant metabolism, an' all dat. It's what prob'ly kept you alive through all de attacks."
"How are you?"
Gambit's smile was brief, tired. "Jus' fine. No one died. We were all lucky."
'One person died,' Marrow thought to herself, and saw the same thought echo through Gambit's eyes.
Before he could stop her, she tore out her IV and ripped off the sensors attached to her chest and back.
"Sarah--"
"Shut the fuck up, Cajun. I'm getting out of here."
He stared helplessly at her. "You can't run 'round dressed like dat."
"Just watch me," she muttered.
"Merde," he growled, and snatched a robe that was hanging over the back of a nearby chair. "Put dis on," he ordered. "I'll try t'find you some clothes."
He did--a pair of gray jogging pants and a T-shirt that were both too big. They slowly walked through the Guild mansion, only passing a few people who greeted them before politely looking away. Gambit led Marrow outside to the patio, to a padded chair placed in the shade created by a tangled nest of flowering vines. For once, Marrow did not mind the heat or the humidity. She let it sink into her skin, closing her eyes and feeling her pores open beneath the hot moisture of the air. Gambit pushed a frosty glass of water into her hands--she had no idea where he had gotten it from--and drank deeply.
They sat for a long time, saying nothing. Finally Marrow looked over at Gambit, who calmly met her gaze.
"I had to kill her," she said.
Gambit was silent for a long time, and then said, "What you did--it wasn't de X-Men way, you know."
"Fuck them," Marrow replied, staring at him with clear, honest eyes. "You were dying."
"I know," he said, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "You did what you had to do." //But not what you should have done//, she seemed to hear.
Marrow did not care. Gambit was alive, sitting in front of her. That was the only thing that mattered, and if he thought she was a hard-hearted killer, that was okay. Really, it was. She did not care. She didn't.
"Glad you see it my way," she muttered, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes.
"Sarah." Long, tanned fingers wrapped around her hand, and squeezed. She forced herself to look up at Gambit's face, and was startled by the kindness in her friend's eyes. The empathy and understanding. "T'ank you," he said, softly. "T'ank you so much for saving m'life. I know 'bout de kind o' choice you had t'make, an' I would have done de same t'ing t'save you. I understand what you had t'do, peite. I really do."
There was a burning sensation in her eyes--she did not know what it meant, so she rubbed at them. Her nose was beginning to run, and she rubbed at that, too. Gambit smiled, and she thought his eyes seemed unusually bright. "So," he said, clearing his throat. He put an arm over her shoulder and hugged her close. "Where do you want to go on your next vacation?"
Marrow sniffed back some snot that was threatening to slide down her upper lip. "Will they all suck like this one?"
"Hope not."
"You promise not to tell your father where we are?"
Gambit laughed. "Definitely."
Marrow smiled, bent close to his ear, and told him where she wanted to go next.