Log: Avalanche and Gambit Characters: Dominik and Remy NPCs: n/a Location: Stark Campus Timeline: 11th August 2013. Late evening [backdated] Description: Dominik makes a call home, it doesn’t go well and this is what happens afterwards Rating:PG-13
What possessed Dominik to call home was beyond him, especially as he had done it enough in the past to know the end result, but he must be some sort of sucker for punishment because on a late evening on one Sunday he’d picked up the phone and dialled home. Now his mother, she was a proud woman, so proud that it would take the end of the world before she admitted she was wrong about anything. But Dominik was certain that about this one thing she wasn’t wrong, she was right to have pushed him away, especially as he had been the one responsible for keeping the help at bay and he’d also taken her livelihood at the same time.
It didn’t mean it stopped hurting and it didn’t mean he stopped... craving her affection, even with the hurtful words and the sharp slap which had left an imprint of her hand, stark red on an otherwise light skin tone. All his life he’d seen a side of her that was motherly and warm, but in that instant she had turned... cold, spiteful and had thrown words at him in their mother tongue that would forever haunt him.
And yet he’d dialled her number, just to hear her voice, especially as he’d woken from another restless nightmare. His father’s dying breath, his blood on his hands and the crush of what felt like a weight on his chest.
“Mo-” he spoke as she finally picked up.
“Dominikos,” she began, voice cool. “I told you not to call me, did I not make myself clear?”
“I know,” he began. “I just needed-”
“No,” she stated plainly. “I don’t wish to speak to you. Not after what you did, not with what you are. You’re an abomination, not my son. My son died when he killed my husband. Stop calling me.”
Then the line went dead and Dominik could only regard the phone, throat working and hand curling to the point where the plastic whined at him. Soon enough he tossed the phone aside and buried hands in his hair, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to calm his fervent emotions eventhough he knew it was too late, the ground was already shaking.
Fuck.
Dominik pressed his lips together and scrubbed at his eyes with the ball of his hand, pulling on his boots not even bothering with the laces before tugging on a hooded sweatshirt, the frayed edges of sleeves being twisted as a set of emotions played on the Avalanche’s already ragged nerves. The lack of sleep obvious by the dark circles and the disorder of the mind all too present in the mussed strands of hair that weren’t really behaving or playing nice.
He just needed to walk, stretch his legs, try and shake off the emotional fallout that felt as fresh and raw today as it had all those weeks ago. When would he stopped hoping that she’d come around and remember that she was his mother? Would she ever come round? Was he just alone now for the rest of his life? These were the questions swirling around his head as he took to the hallways and passed through the doors, paying little to no attention to his surroundings as he just focused on the movement.
Sometimes for Dominik it was the only thing that helped.
Then he knocked into somebody and he mumbled an apology, but he didn’t stop, he just kept moving.
A rolling stone gathers no moss.
---
Remy was out and about at that hour, as well. He was returning from a job, in high spirits and a good mood after a successful evening of thieving that had filled a contract he’d managed to pick up and gotten him a little cash as payment. And by a little, it was a decent sum. Gambit wasn’t saving for anything in particular. Money itself wasn’t really all that hard to come by for a thief. And he picked up these random jobs for strangers to pass the time between bigger jobs for Shaw. He just had to stay active, stay in shape, stay sharp. A bored thief was a dead thief. People who hired thieves, though, thought that thieves did it for the money. So Remy took payment and sometimes even demanded more. He was setting a base, feeling out the city, and getting a client list. It looked like he was going to be in New York for a while, and he needed to do his thing.
So after depositing the cash, Remy returned to the school and made his way back to his room to shower and change out of his guild armor that was on beneath his darker clothes, when he ran into that tall and hard figure he’d come to care about over the past few months.
A quick step and a dance to the side ensured neither of them took a tumble, but Remy’s hands came up to catch Dom’s arm to keep the collision a light one, and he was surprised when his friend not only didn’t stop to say anything, but looked so stricken that Remy’s teasing sarcastic comment about what it felt like to have a mountain hit you died on his lips.
Instead, he watched Dominik’s back as the boy continued down the hall, then took strides after him, his concern growing, “Rarity? You don’t look so good. Sometin happen while I was out?” He had reached Dominik’s side and glanced up at him, frowning slightly as he got a closer look at him.
---
Dominik had barely registered that it was Remy he had nearly sent flying, too wrapped up and emotionally exposed to be able to think all that straight. He was quite literally like a rolling stone, stopping for nothing and no-one.
Then Remy fell in step and Dominik shook his head. "I'm alright." Which was a lie, a bad one at that, especially as his voice shook. "Just can't sleep, that's all."
His mother's voice ringing in his ears causing a hand to seek refuge on his hair, grip tight and bordering on painful. It helped to distract him, kept him rooted even though it felt like this most recent emotional tsunami was trying to sweep him away and under.
"I just need some air," he persisted.
---
Remy frowned. Dominik was always saying that, claiming to be okay. Always taking care of others and not himself. These night time late walks he took, the multiple times Remy had found him out or that Dominik had mentioned he couldn't sleep, they were indicators of a deeper problem and while Dom had even admitted to that much, the Greek had never come clean to what theses things were. Well now, with seeing the normally rock solid and steady teen so close, teetering, even, on the edge of the breaking point, Remy took matters into his own gloved hands.
He'd not force Dominik to talk about whatever it was, but he'd help him get through it without shattering where he stood and crumbling into a million pieces, like an avalanche that took out a city. The thief, not owning any claim to being a great ear to talk to or shoulder to lean on, was there in that hallway at the moment when it seemed Dominik needed someone to be there. Much like Gambit, himself, had been in need without realizing it after the death of Jetstream.
Setting his jaw in a hard line, Remy looked ahead and spotted an open door to a classroom he knew would be empty and dark. The perfect shelter to take for the upcoming storm. When Dominik's steps neared the entry, Remy used his shoulder to push into in, turning him, herding him into the room and even put a hand on his back so that he couldn't back out at the last minute. "Come on, cher. Let's get you de hell outta dis hallway and somewhere quiet before you walk yourself to de moon."
---
Dominik frowned as he was herded into the darkened classroom and suddenly the four walls felt constricting, causing Dominik to struggle for breath. For only a moment as he soon latched his fingers around a nearby table and just breathed.
Breathe, Dominik, breathe.
He'd put distance between himself and Remy just so he could try piecing himself back together because he hadn't intended for anyone to see him like this. Tension lined his every muscle and it was clear he was working through some sort of internal issue which was breaking through his normally composed exterior.
Hell, the desk creaked under his vice like grip.
---
Remy shut the door behind him and leaned against it a moment, letting Dominik move away and grip the desk so hard it looked like it was about to break. Maybe it was better if it did. Sometimes it was better to let it out in a physical way. “Just breathe, Rarity,” Remy’s voice sounded darker in the darkness. Dark and rich, like it belonged in the shadows. He didn’t turn on a light, using the glow coming in from the windows that the city gave off to guide his sure steps as he moved off the door and came cautiously towards Dominik.
The boy looked like he might fall apart or explode if he were touched, but Gambit dared to do it anyway. He’d survived punching Dominik in the ribs before and walked away without a scratch. He’d survive this, too. Two gloved and two ungloved fingers curled around the back of Dominik’s tight hand on the edge of the desk, his thumb locking on the other mutant’s wrist, “Let it go, cher. Gonna break if you don’t.” His eyes, dark shadows in the darkened classroom, their red centers unlit, scanned Dom’s expression and waited to meet his gaze. He wasn’t talking about the desk.
---
Let it go? Easier said than done, especially as Dominik had been carrying this since the first day he’d set foot on school grounds, buried and stamped down. It only ever came to life whenever he was alone, late at night or straight after he’d tried to call his mother. He shouldn’t have called, it was a dumb idea, but it never seemed to stop him.
He was a coiled spring, the stillness in his fame seemingly magnified by the harsh breaths escaping the Greek’s chest, the same chest which felt as though somebody was pushing down on it. His eyes slid to the placement of Remy’s hand and the exact way the Cajun’s thumb sought his wrist, tension rippling the length of his arm as Dominik released the desk as abruptly as he’d sought it in the first place, boot catching on a nearby chair and sure enough he sent it flying across the room. It was a burst of aggression like none the Cajun would have seen from Dominik, mostly because he prided himself on being in control, but everything about this was out of his control.
He hadn’t even been able to attend his own father’s funeral.
It wasn’t that he was angry or maybe he was, he didn’t know. He was hurt, that much he knew. And the guilt which had sat in his chest like a festering wound was infecting his thoughts, stripping away his composure and causing the Avalanche to bury his fingers in his hair before he just bit out a soft bitter laugh.
“I can’t just let it go,” he muttered. “It’s not that easy.” Dominik shook his head, turning it in time for Remy to catch a distinctly wounded look to the grey of his eyes and a thread of emotion which wasn’t often seen in the teen. “God, I wish I could. I really do, Remy. I just want everything to be-” Okay? Normal? Like it was? All those things and more? He was pacing now, unable to be still, restless movements echoing in the rumbling beneath their feet.
A fist connected with a wall before his fingers splayed outwards, palm pressing against the wall as Dominik just breathed, blood littering his knuckles. “You should’ve let me walk,” he muttered quietly.
---
Gambit watched the chair fly and crash without flinching, witnessed Avalanche show uncharacteristic violence in the outburst and the following pacing, the harsh breaths and in his words. The handling of his hair, as always, was an indication of his emotional state but Remy didn't need that to see there was no easy settling of this emotion. No burying beneath the calm facade. The thief wasn't going to be placated, because his friend wasn't going to be placated. He needed to vent or something was literally going to blow.
"Ain't saying to forget it, Dominik." He spoke softly, calmly, his voice low like the pulse of an engine while it idled. "Let it go. Out from you. Quit holding it back like it's sometin you ken control forever." His eyes tracked Dom to the wall and winced when he punched it. The rumble under his feet was unmistakable, too. "Cause you can't. Maybe you could go a little longer, homme. Maybe. But whatever dis is, it ain't going away, looks like. Walking away and pretending it's all fine when you wander back is only a bandaid. Trust me on dis one."
Remy moved closer to Dominik again. He hadn't been afraid of him before and he wasn't still, but he watched him as he approached, steps light and making a slow circling track on his way to his friend's side. He reached up and carefully closed his fingers again on him, this time on his forearm, warm fingers that tugged his hand off the wall and turned it over. Remy inspected the damage, his touch light, and his gaze flickering red with a demonic hue briefly as they lifted to meet Dominik's.
"So, non. Don't tink I shoulda let you walk."
---
Dominik’s jaw was visibly working against itself and his eyes were quite literally a storm of emotion, the same eyes that tracked over to Remy as he closed those long fingers of his on his forearm before turning their attention to the abuse Dominik had subjected his knuckles to. There was a distinct swell and littering of cuts which were seeping blood, but the pain somehow rooted him to the present.
He wet his lower lip and breathed out between his teeth. “The last person I spoke to about this-” Dominik caught himself then slumped against the wall, tipping his head to watch the Cajun’s profile. “I just-” He rubbed the hand not in Remy’s possession over his face and threaded it through his hair, closing those long steady fingers around the back of his neck where he squeezed.
“I called home,” he began with a shrug. “My mom- She- There’s a reason I’m here, at this school and not with her.” He swallowed, willing the sudden lump in the back of his throat to be anywhere than stuck there, making his voice sound rough and unsteady. “I’m pretty much alone, Remy. I lost my dad and my mom, she can barely... look at me or even bring herself to talk to me.”
He snorted derisively. “Not that I can blame her after what happened.”
---
If Remy had learned anything in his scant 18 years of life, it was that you were never alone as long as you had good friends. An orphan, stolen from the hospital at birth and later adopted by a thief, Gambit had learned about family, in a sense. The Guild was his family and Dominik's words struck a chord in the Cajun. He, too, was disallowed from seeing his family. Banished by his own father, in fact. Friends had replaced that disconnect, or started to. His ex-lover as well. Dominik was one of the main reasons why he was still holding out faith in mankind.
Avalanche and his haunts were closer to the surface. Much less resolved, never buried, and by the raw sound of Dominik's voice, had never been given the opportunity to heal. They were festering in plain sight now, and Remy's fingers tightened on Dominik's wrist where he had turned his hand over.
Making a soft tisk sounds with just the tip of his tongue, Gambit reached into the pocket of his duster and pulled out a rolled bandana, something he used in his thieving work for various things, but it would do as a temporary bandage for Dominik's bleeding knuckles. Carefully, with gentle fingers, Remy opened the Greek's hand and wrapped the wound.
Eyes on his work, Remy spoke again, "Sounds like she de one missing out, homme, not letting you around. Who wouldn't want more of you in dere lives?" A small smile touched his lips and Gambit glanced up at Dominik with a warm regard. Warm and trusting. "Whatever you done, it can't be bad enough to deserve dat kind of treatment."
Gaze returning to his wrapping, Remy let Dominik continue if he wanted. He was starting to see, though. What else could it be? And he'd already figured out, based on their last journal conversation, that it was Haroun who he had talked to about this before. Well, Remy's standing on Dominik losing the only other person who knew why he couldn't sleep at night was still firm. He had it in good authority that his time wasn't up yet. Very similar authority, in fact. Coincidence? Gambit didn't believe in coincidences.
---
“You’d be surprised,” Dominik replied with a shake of his head before his gaze left Remy’s profile and instead focused on something else, like a spot on the ceiling, which allowed him to drop his head back and just breathe. The struggle was clear in how his Adam’s apple bobbed and the muscles flickered with every movement of his jaw, fingers feeling heavy and thick with the blood that had at one time coated them.
He felt a surge of... something inexplicable when Remy said with such certainty that he couldn’t imagine Dominik had done something to deserve the way his mother was treating him, but he pushed it aside, the grief and guilt all too present and heavy.
“My father was murdered,” he finally spoke after a long moment, eyes tracking from the ceiling to the bandanna being wound around his bloody knuckles. “Because of me.” The pain in his voice was clear and there was no way he could hide the haunted look in his eyes as he replayed the scene over in his head, being swept away in an ocean of memory and emotion. “I should’ve waited, should’ve let him handle the situation, but I just saw this guy with my father at gunpoint and I reacted impulsively.”
It was one of the many reasons he’d tried to curb that, tried to think first and act later, and it explained why he wasn’t as likely to take the same risks as everybody else for fear of losing what he had and letting it all slip away from him, the same way his father had.
“The gun went off,” Dominik remarked around a choked breath. “My father- He- I held him and I just-” He swallowed and dropped his head, his free hand flexing restlessly as Dominik felt as though his legs wanted to give out. “I just couldn’t think,” he muttered with a shake of his head. “And this anger overcame me, it was so raw and so fucking intense, but I couldn’t stop it and the next thing I know? The entire place’s coming down around me.” Dominik’s gaze flicked over to his friend, grey depths ever so slightly blurred. “I destroyed everything, Remy. If I’d just stopped myself then maybe he’d still be alive, but I didn’t and I just ruined everything.”
He pushed a breath out and forced the heel of his palm into his eye as if trying to scrub away the tears, especially as he fucking hated this. Hated falling apart because whilst his power might be to take the landscape apart Dominik prided himself on being solid.
---
Remy’s hands stilled when they finished their work, fingertips still touching the knot he’d created to keep the injury wrapped. And he paused there, unmoving, as Dom told him what happened. The details were vague, but the meaning was clear and obvious that Dominik blamed himself. Probably blamed his powers, too. But Gambit didn’t hear any sense of blame on the gunmen who had shot his father in the first place.
Lifting his eyes in time to see and hear and feel the rest of the story, Remy didn’t look away from the exposed rough depths of Dominik’s grief. He didn’t shy back or immediately start in with sympathy or commiseration. The old line ‘I’m sorry’ had always been an empty one to the thief. It would mean very little to the boy who’d held his father in his arms as he died, probably bled to death from the gunshot wound, and had an emotional breakdown that affected his mutant powers in ways he couldn’t control. Sorry didn’t heal wounds.
Standing on the outside, Remy could clearly see that Dominik wasn’t to blame for his father’s death. But he knew from the other mutant’s perspective, it all came to rest squarely on his shoulders. And it was tearing him up from the inside out. The destruction, it must have been the bakery where his father worked. The gunmen must have been petty thieves or robbers. His mother probably was terrified and distraught and handling it in all the wrong ways by lashing out at the one person who could understand and help her come through it. For a long moment, Remy just let Dominik mourn in silence, the dark depths of the Cajun’s eyes tracking over his face as he held the boy by the wrist.
Finally, when Avalanche lowered his hand from his tear streaked eyes, Gambit reached up with both of his and cupped his face, fingers gliding over his jaw with the thief’s thumbs wiping away the wetness they encountered on his skin. “You wanna know sometin?” He met Dominik’s eyes directly, holding his face still between his hands, “You de strongest person I ever met, cher. Ain't no accident dat Remy calls you Rarity. No one else is like you.”
It wasn’t going to bring his father back from the dead or make his mother talk to him, maybe that would never happen, but Remy wanted him to know that he had value and worth outside of that darkness. He meant something to at least one person on this side, though Remy was positive at least a dozen other people would stand up and say the same thing about Avalanche. He’d made an impact at the school and in Remy’s life and he wouldn’t let him feel insignificant or unloved. He wouldn’t let that happen.
---
Dominik rested his weight against the wall as if that would somehow stop him from feeling as though the guilt and grief might crush him like a rockslide did an innocent village. And he froze for a moment when Remy placed his hands on either side of his face, brow knitting together and gaze remaining dark and heavy even as the Cajun's fingers skirted skin and wiped away the mess that crying had left behind. The very same mess that Dominik had up until this point been dealing with on his own, away from prying eyes. He felt open and overly exposed. This right here was nothing short of a trust exercise, letting Remy see the cracks and the fissures beneath the otherwise composed boy known as Dominikos Petrakis.
Then Remy caught his eyes, his gaze boring through him as if the other teen could see into Dominik's soul then past it. It was unnerving and frightening. Especially as there he was, cradled between Remy's hands and grasping helplessly at the jagged edges of his composure, trying to in some way recover and paint a happy go lucky face over it all. It was surprising how small somebody so big could look, but Dominik managed it all the same.
Remy's words caused him to take a slow breath and swallow hard, trying to find a dialogue that wasn't broken. "That's probably a good thing," he muttered with a slight twist to the corner of his lips, a smirk playing with the idea of coming out to flicker across the normally expressive mouth that had up until now been pressed into a thin line.
He sniffed, tongued at his teeth and then just reached up to squeeze Remy's wrists. Silent communication, a showing of thanks and gratitude, something he didn't trust himself to put into words right now. His eyes were now a lighter shade of grey as a direct result of the tears, but the closer you got to his pupils the darker the shade became. That said it would take somebody with remarkable eyesight to be able to see the difference.
"I never should have called home," he said in a puff of air.
---
Remy saw the starting signs of a smirk and he gave a low chuckle, patting Dominik’s cheek with one hand before one last caress had him lowering his hands, “Nah, petit,” kind of a joke since Dominik was easily taller than the Cajun. But he looked so small, just then. “De day you give up on someone, even her, is de day I don’t know you anymore.” There was a great deal of affection in Remy’s tone, and he nudged the other boy in the ribs, not far from where he’d been punched by the same hand on a different occasion.
Now that it was out, this incredible heaviness that Remy had been looking for, that chink in Dominik’s armor that he knew must be there, because really who was that steady and steadfast all the time, he didn’t know if Dom felt better, but he sure did. And there was probably more. There was always more. But the thief would stand by his decision that, while Dominik looked out for everyone else, he’d look out for Dominik. Every hero needed someone watching their back.
“I ain’t goin nowhere,” he felt the need to remind his friend. “You know exactly who’d kick my ass if I did prematurely.”
---
Dominik snorted and rolled his eyes as Remy took to nudging him in the ribs. “What is it with you and my ribs?” He pushed a hand into his hair and combed the dark strand through the gaps in his fingers, the movements less... pained than they had been earlier. He felt pretty exhausted like he’d expelled a great deal of emotion into the world and now he was just bone tired. Funny how that happened.
It also helped that Remy had listened, taken everything he said seriously, but hadn’t made Dominik feel stupid for feeling the way that he was. If he had then the Avalanche would have locked down and there would have been no getting anywhere with him. And now the pain had ebbed and the grief wasn’t so prevalent his hand was starting to throb, but that was all his own fault so he wasn’t going to complain.
“Yeah,” he muttered roughly. “Your southern belle.” He blew out a breath then rubbed his fingers through a small amount of growth on his cheeks before he shot a look in Remy’s direction. “Thanks, I uh- For listening, I mean.”
And he wasn’t going to give up, even if his mother seemed determined to give up on him.
“Fuck,” he drawled as his head knocked back against the wall and his teeth caught his lower lip. “I think I need a cigarette.”
---
Giving a small shrug, Remy smirked, “I dunno. Dey’re nice.” he said of Dominik’s ribs. But when he attributed the ass-kicking to Rogue, the Cajun blinked and opened his mouth to correct him. He’d been speaking of Haroun, on the other side, who would no doubt be standing at the black pearly gates of hell ready to deliver a punch to his jaw should he cross that threshold again. The moment to clarify his statement slipped away, however, and Remy let it.
It got him thinking, though. His southern belle? Was that what she was? Rogue had barely started talking to him again, tolerating his presence, in the last month or so, and now they were good friends, linked in a similar way that he and Dominik were, through dark times. But his? Gambit studied Dominik’s expression as the other teen tipped his head against the wall and lamented to needing a cigarette.
Shelving his questions, Remy let out an easy laugh, “Got you covered. But let’s get outside. You shoulda heard de tirade Doctor MacTaggert used on me after finding I’d been smoking indoors.” Loyal to his promise, though, he’d not mentioned how he’d gotten the smokes down in the infirmary. Dominik was in the clear.
“Come on, Rarity,” he nudged him once more in the ribs, just for the sake of being consistent, and flashed a smile up at him, “We’ll get some ice on de way out for your hand.”
---
It was all about perspective, everything in life was and just because one person had one point of view didn’t mean it was shared by anybody else. It took clarity to fully understand and appreciate a situation, but sometimes that was the scariest thing to look or ask for. Answers weren’t always what you wanted them to be and sometimes only sometimes it was better not to know.
“Wish I could have been there to see that,” Dominik remarked as he pushed away from the wall, ruffling Remy’s hair with his good hand when the Cajun nudged him in the ribs again. Thank god for genetics for those long limbs that he could use to muss up his friend’s hair in retaliation for their rib nudging. Small blessings made the world go round.
He soon fell into step beside Remy. “Ice would be good.” Because yeah, ow. It had helped in the moment, but now the moment was gone his hand felt thoroughly abused. He’d have cuts for a few days and it would make his job interesting that was for certain.
It was... difficult, breaking open around somebody, but now that he had he felt... better, like he’d be okay provided he had somebody like Remy around in whatever capacity. Things could only get better, right?