Disclaimer: Gambit and the X-Men are copyright and property of Marvel Comics. I am making no money from this. Besides getting money out of me would be like getting blood out of turnip, it isn't gonna happen so don't even try to sue me. Any other characters you don't recognize and the plot in this story are owned by Tammy Zuleger. Anyone wishing to use them must get permission from me first.


Recovery
Part Twelve
Tammy

"Now jus' relax," Montana said as he adjusted sound levels in the engineer's room.

"Tell me again why I'm doin' dis," Remy said from the recording booth.

"For the glory," Montana replied.

"For the fun," Tammy added.

"An' fer the money," Austin finished.

"But mostly the money," Montana smiled.

"Right," Remy nodded.

"Ready?" Montana asked?

"Ready as I'll ever be," Remy sighed picking up his violin.


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"Okay, now here's yer copy," Montana said handing Remy a cassette tape. "I've got the master so I can make copies to peddle aroun' Nashville. Now all I need ya ta do is read an' sign these papers."

"What for?" Remy asked starting on the first.

"Copyright stuff so no one steals yer music. An' I got another question fer ya. Do ya wanna go through the same agent Austin uses or not?"

"What's his name?"

"Montana."

"Why not, dat way if you screw me over I already know what you look like," the Cajun replied with an evil looking smile.

"Ooookay, I'll give ya a couple hours ta look these over an' then ya can get back ta me," he said standing up. "Dang, I'm hungry."

"Hey Austin," Remy called after Montana had left the room in search of food. "Is it me or is he always hungry?"

"He's always hungry," Austin sighed sitting down. "An' he never gains any weight."


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"Hey Chere," Remy called walking up behind Tammy as she worked at her computer.

"What's up?" she asked taking off her headphones.

"I overheard Austin an' Chris talkin' an' Austin said somet'ing 'bout never gettin' on a bull 'gain. You know what dat about?" he asked sitting down in a chair.

"Oh that," Tammy nodded turning away from her computer.

"That what?" he said arching his eyebrows.

"Austin used to be a bull rider, a damn good one too. From what I've heard there wasn't a bull he couldn't go a full 8 on," she said leaning back in her chair.

"Uh-huh," he nodded taking a quarter out of his pocket.

"But no matter how good you are, there's always someone better."

"So he met up wit' Super Bull?" he queried rolling the quarter over his knuckles.

"Yeah," she sighed.

"And he got hurt pretty bad?"

"Yeah, the bull stomped on him and broke his left thigh. His cheek was broken from another stomp and his right eye was swollen shut for almost 2 weeks. He was tossed and broke his left arm and wrist when he came back down. Most of his ribs were cracked, broken, or bruised badly. The bull gored him in the stomach and just barely missed his heart. Austin had a concussion and was in a coma for 3 days," she explained.

"Sound like he lucky t' be alive," Remy whispered.

"Yes, he is. From what Montana tells me, they almost lost him. Once on the way to the hospital and once in the operating room," she continued. "Took him over six months to fully recover."

"So dat's why he almos' bit Chris's head off," he said leaning back.

"Yeah, he's pretty sensitive about it," she sighed. "Sometimes he even has nightmares about it."

"How you know? . . . Never min'," he cut himself off and rolled his eyes.

"But how are you doing?" she asked.

Remy shrugged his shoulders.

"That's not an answer," she frowned.

"Don' know how I'm doin'," he shrugged again. "Okay, I guess. Rode de Harley 'round de house t'day."

"Yeah, I heard," she smiled.

"Gettin' dat song published is kinda a shock t'ough," he sighed leaning back in the chair. "An' dis singin' and playin' music bit."

"You don't have to perform if you don't want to, Austin'll understand," Tammy said scooting her chair closer to him.

"Non, I wanna play," he said shaking his head.

"You don't have because I talked you into it."

"Non Chere, I be doin' dis f'r myself. I gotta get up dere an' face de crowd."

"As long as you're sure you can handle it," she said getting up and going to the love seat. "Ahh, this is better," Tammy sighed as she sank down into the soft cushions.

"Min' if I join you?" he asked standing up.

"Not at all," she smiled and patted the sofa next to her. "You still haven't answered my question."

"Which one?" he asked making himself comfortable.

"How're you doing?" she repeated.

"Okay, gettin' my strengt' back. I c'n use my powers 'gain, sort of," he explained and charged a piece of paper so it just disintegrated instead of exploding. "Dis 'bout as much juice as I got right now."

"Better, before you could barely manage a spark," she smiled putting her feet out.

"I guess," he sighed.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I don' know. T'ings jus' seem differen', dat's all."

"How?"

"My dreams have turned t' nightmares," he said with a shiver.

"I see," she replied waiting for him to continue on his own.

"I . . . I discovered dat . . . I'm not a nice person. Heck, don' know if I even a person anymore," he said with a sad note in his voice. "I did some bad t'ings, t'ings happened dat I couldn' control. I hurt a lot of people . . . probably killed a few," he said in a whisper.

She didn't say anything. Tammy knew that if she started to talk, he'd clam up again and keep everything inside until he couldn't take it any more and had an emotional breakdown or worse. So she just listened, reserving judgment, if there was any to be made, until he finished what he had to say.

"I . . . I don' know what happened. I started feelin' funny, couldn' stay awake durin' de day, didn' eat. All I could stomach was liquor. Too scared t' go t' a doctor cause I'm a mutant, I let it go. Got worse an' worse. . . ."

"Wandered de streets at night, never knew where I was goin', couldn' remember where I went. Den one night I woke up covered in blood. . . . an' it wasn' mine," he said as tears started to run down his cheeks, he wiped them away with his sleeve.

"I got scared. I ran an' ran an' ran an' ran till I couldn't run no more. Dat's when I saw him followin' me. . . . "

"Who Remy?" she asked putting her hand on his shoulder.

"Sabretoot'," he said with a shudder.

"The mutant mass murderer?" she asked shocked.

"Oui," he answered wiping at the tears flowing freely from his eyes. "An' . . . an' . . . an' he said I'm jus' like him . . . jus' like 'im."

"Den dis ot'er man come 'long. He say he help me . . . he lied," Remy said, now crying openly.

Tammy put her arms around him and let him cry on her shoulder.

"He . . . he . . . he," he choked, "he do t'ings t' me . . . t'ings dat hurt so bad I pass out . . ."

"When he not exper'men'in' on me, he let Sabretoot' an' de ot'ers hurt me . . . torture me."

Tammy's pity turned to righteous anger as her friend went on. Her mind whirled in a red rage at the horrors that Remy described to her.

"I . . . I . . . I fin'lly got 'way from 'im," he said between wrenching sobs.

"Shhh, it's okay Remy. You got away, he's a long ways away," she whispered holding him and rubbing his back.

"Non . . . non . . . non . . . he say he come back f'r me . . . he promised," he whispered and shivered in fear.

"No, I won't let him," she soothed.

"Non Chere . . . he . . . he say not'in' stan' in his way o' gettin' me . . . not'in' . . ." he sobbed holding tight to her. "I don' wan' him hurtin' you."

"Nothing's gonna hurt me or you right now," she whispered. "We're safe in my office."

Remy didn't answer, he just cried on her shoulder.