The bus station was mostly empty. Rain fell steadily on the roof. Thunder crashed violently and lightening streaked across the grey storm sky. Seated on one of the plastic chairs in the long row, was a young man in jeans and a flannel shirt. His hair was touseled from the fingers he occasionally ran through it. A white cane sat propped between his legs, his duffle next to him. His hand was wrapped around the strap.
"This seat taken?" asked the Southerner who approached him, two backpacks slung over one shoulder.
"No."
The man sat down and shifted the packs to his knees. They listened to the rain as they waited for the next bus. After almost ten minutes the second man spoke. "By the by, m' name's Remy. Remy LeBeau. Seems we be headin' in the same direction."
"Scott Summers," the blind man replied, a smirk creeping onto his face. "I was betting on Logan."
"He t'inks y' went t' the train station. I told him t' call Jubes."
"So they sent *you* after me?"
"Not 'sent' exactly. I'm runnin' away from home. Just figure it's gonna be more excitin' wherever you be headin'."
"And what are you running away from? Responsibility? Comitment?"
"Very pissed off team members?" Scott snorted. "Had a screamin' fight wit' Stormy. Rogue damn near knocked m' t'rough the wall. Logan done clawed m' f' insultin' Jeannie. Henri wants m' in de lab 'til the rest of m' burns heal up. And Bish says he won't be stoppin' dem if'n they attack. An' let's not even *start* wit' m' and Charles."
Scott's brows rose above his shades. "What did you do?"
"Charles wants a Summers clone. Ole Remy, he told him t' shove it up his bald ass. I'm blamin' painkillers."
Scott's jaw closed with an audible snap. "I don't know weather to be pissed off at Xavier or proud of you."
"Let's try de proud route f' once?" Remy's voice was soft. "Hope y' don' mind m' followin'."
"Not really. I just couldn't handle another pretentious 'it could be worse' speech. I threatened Hank with poisoning if I wasn't released. Is Bobby still in a coma?"
"Oui. It don' look good, but Henri ain't gonna give up on him."
"What are friends for?"
"Breakin' y'r heart. This is our bus. Y' okay wit' stairs?"
Scott snorted. "Just spot me."
"Sure, homme."
Once they were settled, Scott spoke again. "Remy?"
"Oui?"
"Why are you fighting with Ororo?"
"She wants m' t' be team leader. Told her that was her position. She tol'm' that I just didn' want t' grow up."
"And?" Scott prompted after a long pause.
"Last time Remy led somet'in' folks got hurt."
"I'm guessing you were a lot younger."
"Non, just a couple years."
"I wasn't thinking physically. How old are you now anyway?"
"Hmm. Twenty-two, near as I can reckon."
"Were you even legal when Logan took you out drinking?"
"non, but dat's never stopped m'."
Scott grinned. "How's your hand?"
'Healing. I get rid of the dead skin better'n Hank. Shouldn't scar too bad. M' face aussui. Ain't worn m' hair this short since I was a pup."
"Hank says you're the one that pulled me out. Thanks."
"Bien," Remy muttered. "Brought somethin' f' y'." The thief fished out a walkman and popped in a tape. He put it in Scott's lap. "It's Sun Tzu. T'ought mebbe y'd want somet'in' t' do."
"Thanks. When?"
"When I was laid up. I convinced Stormy t' let me have m' laptop. Got _The_Art_of_War, Rise_and_Fall_of_the_Third_Reich_, and _Truman_ and a couple f' m'self."
Scott didn't know what to say, so he changed the topic. "So what are you planning to do?"
"Follow y' around like y'r pup."
"Does that mean I need to get a leash?"
"Connard."
"And a collar? Maybe one of those rhinestone ones."
"Non, merci."
"A harness then?" Scott snickered. "I know, a little apron that says 'working do not disturb'."
"Careful, I'll steer y' into a lake."
Scott shook his head. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you really follow me?"
Remy was quiet for a long moment. "Don' know f' sure. I t'ink I just want t' make sure y're okay before I let y' live y'r life."
"I've been in this situation before."
"Me aussi. So what? Dis is permanent, Scotty."
"So you do know my name."
"'Bout as well as y' know mine."
Scott winced. "Since I never talk to you, refuse to party with you, and hoped you'd leave Rogue alone and date Storm or Logan, why the Hell do you care enough to follow me?"
"Y' don' like Rogue?"
"Not for you." Scott sighed. "That woman has the nastiest temper of the group, and I'm including Logan on that list. And she's been under the professor's psychiatric care since she arrived and still has as many issues as when she started. She's *never* had a relationship that turned out well. At the very least, you have a wife. Besides, she treats you like shit and you crawl back for more. I think you've finished your penence, Remy. There's no reason for you to crawl to an ex-terrorist for punishment. I know you love her. Any idiot can see that. But it will never do you any good because she doesn't know how to love. I'm sick and tired of watching people get hurt. You're great partners, but as lovers, you suck."
"Not often," Remy muttered. "Well, y' be happy t' hear she broke it off. She don't t'ink love and leadership mix."
"Dear God, tell me she's not. . ."
"In charge of the team? Oui. An' that, mon ami, is the other reason Remy ain't takin' the job. Woman t'inks strength is the only way t' solve a problem. Ain't gonna take a bruisin' every time she decides sneaky and underhanded be unethical."
"It isn't unethical. Merely under used."
"Oui."
"Jean and I made it work."
"But Ro's y'r second."
"And the two of you would balance out."
"Non, homme, I ain't leader material."
"Only because you refuse to believe it."
"I don' compromise well. Le professeur an' I had a long discussion. I figue better t' leave b'fore it turns out Bishop's right."
"Don't talk like that. You would never willingly hurt the team."
"But unwillingly? Jus' by fuckin' up? Oui, that's possible."
Scott's hand settled on Gambit's arm. He squeezed gently. "You aren't a fuck up. I don't know who or what convinced you of that, but you aren't. Irresponsible. Yes."
Remy laughed. "T'ought it was too good t' be true. Mind if I sleep on y're shoulder?"
"No."
"Merci. This is play, stop, rewind, fast forward. Claims it's all on the one CD. We see, non?"
"Yeah. Thanks, Remy. Get some sleep."
Remy nodded and took one half of the pain pill Hank had prescribed. Almost immediately, the interior of the bus blurred. He closed his eyes and settled his head on Scott's shoulder. He was asleep a breath later.
Scott wasn't listening to anything, but the headphones would keep people from bothering him. The headaches were worse than ever. Hank thought it was because the beams were impaired by the damage. Scott fingered the bandages that his behind his shades - ruby quartz still. Even if his blasts were still functional, Hank said he'd be blind for the rest of his life. That meant he couldn't aim. Hell, he'd never get to see the Cajun with short hair, or Beast go grey, or Jubilee in a wedding dress. He didn't even notice when the tears dripped from his eyes, soaking the cotton.
The bus driver looked back at the brothers. They were asleep now. It must have been one hell of an accident.
"Tell me why y' chose San Fransisco again, homme."
"Because it's the last place anyone is going to look for me. Hopefully, the four transfers and two lay-overs will throw people off track. First, we need someplace to stay. Then, I need to find a job."
"Y' could just live off of me for awhile. Just pretend it comes from le professeur."
Scott noted that Remy's accent had lightened along the way. He was beginning to sound like everyone else. Scott thought that was a shame.
"Scott?"
"For a little while, I guess. On the condition that you don't lose the accent all together."
"D'accord, Fearless."
"How's your hand?"
"Healin'. Take m' arm. We'll find a cab."
From the corner in the shadows, mouth open in shock, Mystique watched them leave. "Very interesting," she murmured.
Remy located a ground floor apartment within the week. "Now we just got t' decorate. Y' come wit' Remy? Please?"
"I don't like shopping."
"Sil vous plait, Scotty?"
Scott gritted his teeth as the image popped up of Gambit in a pout. Damn it. It wasn't fair. Being blind should save him from having to fight puppy-dog eyes. Something tickled his mental shields. Something that didn't feel like Jean or Xavier. "Cut it out, Gumbo. Whatever it is you're doing."
"Merde. Never figured y'd feel it."
That gave Scott pause. "My wife's a telepath, Gambit."
"Oui. That's why Remy figured it was safe."
"What were you doing?"
"Tryin' t' charm y'."
Scott cocked his head to the side.
"Mais, Tante calls it devil's tongue. Bella, well, that's different." Remy sighed. "Been told it's like telepathy, but f' emotions."
"Empathy?"
"Hehn?"
"It's called 'empathy'. You can read and project emotions. Oh, shit. That's how you found me."
"O-oui." Remy scuffed at the pristine hardwood floors. "Y' called out."
"Jean didn't hear me."
"Jeannie had troubles."
"Our link's been shut off since Israel."
"Dat don' mean not'in'," Remy said vehemently. "Dat girl loves y'."
"So?"
Remy stopped mid-thought. "But y' love her back. Remy's seen it."
"She loves Logan too. I *know* that. I've been in her mind and she's been in mine. I love her, but I don't know if I can hold onto her anymore."
"Y' know what, Scotty? First, we get some stuff. Then, we get some beer. Then, we talk about dis. Y' need de sun."
"It makes my head ache."
Remy put his hand on Scott's wrist. He winced when Scott flinched away. "Je suis desole, cher. F'got."
"It's alright." Scott sighed. "Let's go shopping. It's getting close in here."
"Here. Have y' keys. Y' get t' lock-up."
"What?"
"Y' ain't an idiot, or a chile. Use de keys in de door when we leave."
Scott smiled. "So my coddling period is done, huh?"
Gambit laughed. "Never meant t' coddle, Cyke. Just weren't sure what y' could do. We get back t' trainin' too?"
"I'd like that. I can feel my muscles atrophying as we speak."
"And how can I help you today?" the salesman said with a smile. His nametag read "Chris."
"We just got a new place and we're looking for things to fill it," Scott said. He tugged on Remy's sleeve. He knew, just knew, that something had caught the thief's quicksilver attention.
"Is there any particular period or style you're. . ."
"LeBeau!" a booming voice cut Chris off. The salesman frowned as his spiel was interrupted.
"Merde," Remy muttered. He plastered a smile on his face. "Carlton, it's been so long. They finally let y' out on parole?"
The owner of the voice faltered in his advance. He fixed his smile more firmly in place. "I beat that charge. False allegations." Chris' brows rose.
"False like a Bible y' mean. Y' raped her y' bastard. Just 'cause y' got a good lawyer don' mean y're clean."
"Watch your mouth or I'll have you up on slander charges."
"Don' t'reaten me," Remy snapped. "And just keep y're pants zipped around m' friends and we get along just fine."
Scott had never heard Remy express so much venom.
"This your new toy?" the man sneered.
Scott tsked softly. "Bad move," he muttered.
"He ain't worth killin', Slim."
"No, but he could use a lesson or two in manners and tact. We have things to shop for remember? Beds, mattresses, home security?"
"Oui," Remy snickered. "Beds and all the trimmin's. Chris here'll help us, non?"
"Of course. If you'll follow me." Chris was surprised when the elder put his arm though the younger's. Then again, it could have been just something to throw in the asshole's face. The man was glaring at the redhead's back. The Southerner ignored him.
"Somethin' sort of simple, oui, Scotty?"
"Maybe a slatted headboard. Squared like that at least."
"Okay, we have a couple of options."
Scott fell back across the hotel bed. "You're worse than Jean. And do you have to flirt with every salesperson we meet?"
"How else is Remy supposed t' get a deal? 'Specially on antiques. Beer? Pizza?"
"And wings."
"Why'd y' want t' eat Ange?"
"That's sick. He's not my type."
"Y' don' like rich playboys?" Remy asked dialing.
"I don't like arrogant bastards that frown at the fact that I don't have a penny to my name except for the trust fund Charles set up when I was a teen."
"Po' cher. Yes, pepperoni, mushroom and onion. Pan. And an order of wings. An order of breadsticks. For delivery. Shearton Room 2750. Thanks."
"It freaks me out when you sound like me."
"It's and artform. Speakin' of which, y' mind if I draw y/"
"Draw me?"
"Oui. I was t'inkin' of goin' into art. Need t' get m' hand workin' right."
"Sure." Scott was quiet for a moment. "I never considered that you'd go legit."
Remy looked at him sharply. He forced back his immediate protest. "Mais, Scotty. Remy won' be givin' up t'ievin'. He can't."
"Gambit, do me one big favor?"
"Oui?"
"Drop the third person shit."
"Je suis, Scotty."
"Remy?"
"Oui?"
"What's wrong?"
"Not'in'."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm t'inkin' I should write Stormy."
"You're homesick."
"Non." Remy settled next to Scott. "Only missin' Stormy. Nice not t' have t' save the world every few days. T'inkin' I was off base when I was fightin' wit' her. Don' want t' have her mad at me."
Scott put a hand out and touched Remy's leg. "I don't think she's mad."
"I can't lose her."
"Remy, trust me on this, Storm is a stubborn woman. You won't lose her over a fight. Hell, you could probably work for Sinister and she'd follow. You're her family, Gambit, more than any of us."
"What if I did?"
"Did what?"
"Worked f' Sinister? Or Magneto? Or Mystique? Merde. De Hellfire Club? What den?"
"Then we deal with it. Gambit, what makes you think you're going to lose her."
"Tol' her de thrut'."
Scott cocked his head to the side. "Tell me," he ordered.
"Non."
"Remy, this is the single best time to tell me. I *can't* run away. I'm tapped out."
"Y're a freak, homme."
"What did Sinister off you?" Remy jerked back like he'd been stung. The pizza arrived giving him a momentary reprieve. Scott repeated the question.
"A way t' control m' powers."
"In exchange for what?"
"Hirin' the Marauders. Stealin' info. Blueprints. Monitorin' de medical journals. Hidin' his investments."
Scott took his time eating a slice of pizza. "To be me essentially, plus the stealing."
"Non, ain't a Summers." Scott heard the bitterness in the statement.
"What do you mean?"
"Summers is the best hope for the next generation. His bloodlines are the strongest and so on and so forth until de name Summers made m' want t' scream. Den I met y' and Hell de brainwashin' was too strong t' ignore."
"Which is why you're here with me and not in New York."
"Some of it, oui. I like y'. Don't want t' be 'round Xavier wit'out y'."
"Why not?"
"Cuz he dinks I'm a Summers."
"And you aren't. I'm not as stubbornly self-sabotaging. Of course, my girl doesn't throw me into walls and engage me in violent hand to hand combat when we have a fight."
"Told y', homme. She ended it. F' real this time."
"As soon as you're gone, she'll want you back you know."
"Then maybe it's time she crawls t' me. Why'd y' leave Jeannie behind?"
"Because there's something wrong and as long as we're together, we won't know what it is."
"Mebbe y' just been t'inkin' so long that y' stopped talkin'."
Scott blinked. "What do you mean?" he asked reaching for another slice.
"Y' been a set f years, Scotty. Before the whole future life even. Y' have a link that let's y' wander around in each other's mind. Y' don' have t' talk t' one another no more and there's the problem. Y' bot' assume that the other already knows and mebbe that ain't true."
"So what broke between you and Rogue?"
"She wants all of m' past wit'out givin' anyt'in' back. She wants t' hold all the power, all the knowledge. I know her mama better'n I know her. She ain't never even told me her name. She don’ trust m' t' keep business and personal separate. An' she don' understand that I ain't what she wants m' t' be."
"What's that?"
"Pure."
"Remy, how do you know?"
"Because she hates m' shadows. She told m' that after Israel. There ain't enough light t' make the dark disappear."
Scott held his hand out, palm up. "Give me your hand." Remy complied. "Now, if empathy works anything like telepathy, this should allow you a firmer contact. Listen carefully. I trust you, Gambit. You're a competent thief, a good sparring partner, a good man to have at your back in a fight. I trust you not to screw me over or turn on me. I trust you to tell me the truth when I need it. I trust you to protect me when I’m hurt. I trust you not to steal my girl, no matter how much you flirt. And I need you to trust me."
"Wouldn't be here if I didn'." Remy gripped Scott's hand.
*****
A few weeks later Gambit looked up form the want ads. "Scotty?"
"Yes?"
"What about teachin'?"
"I don't have a college degree."
"That ain't a problem."
"What would I teach anyway? Math?"
"How 'bout military history?"
Scott considered. "I could do that. You'd have to grade papers."
"Make them turn them in on tape."
"What?"
"When they write the papers, they have to turn them in on tape."
"But I still don’t' have a degree, Remy."
"Y' will, homme. Y' interested?"
"Anything is better than sitting around bored.'
"Y' don't like bein' kept? I'm hurt."
"Gambit?"
"Oui?"
"Bite me."
Remy laughed.
*****
"I still don't see how you arranged this," Scott stated.
"Negotiated wit' the University for lifetime credits. Got a copy of y're transcripts from Xavier's via Kitty and an anonymous server. Made y' take those evil CLEP tests. All y' need t' do is write up a thesis."
"You frighten me."
"Good."
Scott smacked the back of the Cajun's head.
"Ouch!"
"Hey, my aim's improving too."
"Y' up f' a spar then?"
"Sure."
*****
"Professor Scott!" Randy called out. The older man stopped and turned towards the voice. Randy jogged over to him. "Can I talk to you?"
"Sure. Walk with me."
"Um."
"It's very simple, Randy. Alternate feet in the same direction I'm heading." Scott grinned.
"Okay." They continued towards Scott's office. "Professor?"
"Yes?" Scott was still having trouble answering to that title.
"I was just wondering about the readings for this week. I mean Malcom X? I thought this was about tactics."
"And what makes you think that tactics didn't play a part in his actions? Outright wars aren't the only place where military tactics occur. That's what the selections are about." Scott stopped. He cocked his head to the side. "Down, now!" he commanded, shoving Randy out of the way of the bullets. The metal chipped into the building.
"What the fuck?" Randy gasped.
"Someone's trying to kill me. God damn it. And not doing a very good job. Get to cover and stay there. Wait. What color is your hair?"
"Sort of red-brown."
"Long or short."
"Long."
"Okay. Just stay close then."
"Why?"
"Ever seen my ride?" Scott asked maneuvering them closer tot he building.
"Yes. Remy right?"
"Yeah. What color's his hair?"
"Same as. . . oh."
"He used to wear it half-way down his back."
"Hey, cher, talkin' 'bout m' behind m' back?"
"Gumbo, this is Randy. Get him out of the way. Is it?"
"Looks t' be the FOH."
"You're shittin' me."
"Language," Remy chided.
"Merde." Gambit grinned. "Why the fuck would they be after. . . Randy?"
"Yes?"
"What's your power?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Liar," Remy stated. "Looks sort of like Chatton."
"Yours or mine?"
"Mine. Fangs. Retractable claws. Great hair."
"You like Creed's hair?" Scott asked as they found their way towards the office.
"Y' know that man don' got t' wash it but once a week? An' he don't need conditioner or not'in'."
"TMI. Inside. Rem . . ."
"On it. We got t'ree comin'. All armed. One's campus security."
"I'm fucked," Randy sighed.
"Mebbe, if y're good." Remy winked.
"He's too young for you. Don't worry. Three against three. Sort of uneven odds wouldn't you say, Gumbo?"
"That mean I can take 'em all?"
"Just don't kill them or do any property damage."
"Y're no fun." Remy extended his bo settled his balance. Randy's jaw dropped. The thief bounded off.
"We're just going to sit here?" Scott's hand closed like iron over Randy's arm.
"Just watch. Three FOH bastards are nothing. Rule number one, know the enemy. If you know his weaknesses you can win."
Randy watched the Cajun saunter out to meet the three men. He pinned the security guard as the ring leader. "Want t' play, mes braves?" Within a minute they were on the ground. Remy retracted his bo and sauntered back.
"Rems, what's the second Summers' rule of combat?" Scott asked as they thief rejoined them.
"Know the individual strengths and weaknesses of y'r team. Remy LeBeau, pleased t' meet y', petite."
"Randy Owens."
"Y're office?"
"That's where we were heading. Randy needs to talk to me."
"Combat Basics 102 right?"
"Yes."
Remy nodded. "I'll be a good lil chien an' stay by the door in case they try t' get in."
Scott nodded.
*****
"Cyke?"
"Yeah?" Scott asked, shutting off the tape and pulling the headphones off.
"Y' up f' dinner out?"
"I suppose. Where are you taking me?"
Remy rolled his eyes. "There's a place downtown that swears up an' down it's Cajun."
"Okay. Dress?'
"Causal."
"Let's go. I can't believe some of the shit people turn in. I mean, honestly, where did they get the idea that a full out frontal attack was the best?"
"Half pincer movement."
Scott snorted.
"Didn' y' never watch A-team?"
Scott shook his head. "I was actually leading a team at the time. Fearless Leader is bad enough."
"Mebbe we change it t' imperious leader?"
"Don't make me hurt you, Gumbo."
*****
Dinner was better than Scott had expected. It was even better than Remy had expected. "T'ink we might have a winner here, cher. Now, if they'll just deliver, life'll be perfect."
"I'm sure that if you pay them enough they'll deliver. Speaking of paying. . ."
"What?"
"About the rent."
"Told y' don' t'ink about it."
"Remy, I. . ."
"Make shit all, but y' workin' and y' ain't drivin' me crazy. Y' make up f' it in groceries. Don' worry."
"I always worry. Have you found a gallery yet?"
"I ain't sure. There's a couple places that been interested in m' stuff. But they be the out there ones. Y' know what I mean. They don' exactly carry y' everyday type of t'ing."
"Yeah. And they don't get much traffic."
"Most of the galleries are worried about security I t'ink."
"Oh?"
"Oui. I been usin' mutants as subjects, non?"
"That could make life interesting. I meant to ask, how are the scars?"
"Fadin'." Remy toyed with his food for a moment. "Y' okay with this, Scotty? I mean, I could leave if'n y' want m' to?"
"No." Scott shook his head. "I spent too much time on my own, Remy. I'm not planning on spending any more of it that way. I don't want *them* involved in my life anymore. They'll drive me insane, but I don't want to have to start all over. You know what I mean? It's comfortable."
"Yeah, cher. I do." Scott could hear the smile. "Bobby ain't come out of the coma yet."
"Shit." Scott took a ragged breath. "I should email Hank. He can't be taking this well."
"Stormy's been seein' him a bit. Makin' sure he gets out of the house. Moira's offerin' t' take Bobby t' Scotland."
"That might be the best thing for Hank's sake if nothing else. I know how McCoy handles frustration."
"By knockin' down the chandelier and eatin' too much junk food?"
"Obsession. He needs to make it right, Remy. He'll burn himself out. How's Rogue?"
"Don' know. I ain't asked and Jubilee ain't tellin'. She's lookin' f' colleges. I'm the only one she trusts f' advice."
"That frightens me."
"I'm the only one who didn't get in because Xavier or Frost sent them. She knows I been through the weedin' process. She's feelin' controlled. Logan's been tellin' her t' do what she wants and damn the costs. She was thinkin' of goin' into accounting through the local college. I asked her why she ain't doin' fashion. She ain't been able t' give me a reason yet. I seen that girl's work. She's good. Even if she do dress like a retro freak."
"I happen to like retro freak on her. At least she's not a carbon copy idiot like some of the new ones. She even has her own taste in music."
"Alternative." Remy shook his head. "Y' a bad influence on this po' boy. Y' got him listenin' t' all sorts of t'ings that'd get him a walloppin' from his tante."
"I could do it in her stead," Scott said with a sweet smile.
"Y' evil, cher. I'm tellin' y'. Evil. What say we blow dis place an' find a nice lil blues club?"
"I suppose." Scott sighed with mock-resistance.
"I'm poutin' at y', cher, just so y' know."
"Oh, don't even."
"I will."
"Oh?"
"Oui, wanna make me?"
"Not really. I'm feeling a little too mellow to properly irritate you."
Remy laughed.
*****
"Come on, Wolvie, I want to see this place. San Fran isn't bad and ya know I miss Cal."
"I know, kiddo. I know. Fine. I'll come with ya. Can't believe I'm doin' this."
"Your own fault fer pickin' up kids, ya know," she winked at him.
*****
"You can't be serious, Remy. Me? A model? No way."
"Come on, cher, y're perfect. Let me use y'."
Scott snorted. "Fine. Whatever you want. There's a freshman tour coming in today. Try not to be too outrageous."
"No jumpin' off the roof of the buildin'?"
"Exactly. There's someone who wants to meet with me about the history program. They want to specialize in military."
"Oui? That's good."
"Maybe. It's a girl. That's all I know about her." Scott shrugged. He reached out and caught Remy's ponytail. He tugged it. "Heal."
"Fuck y', cher."
"Not tonight, I've got a headache."
"Y' always got a headache. 'Nough t' make a boy feel unwanted."
"Ah, but you're paying my keep so I can't throw you out."
Scott's classes were used to the banter. There was a running bet as to whether or not they were actually a couple. "Y' mind if I sit in? The War of Northern Aggression t'day, oui?"
"The Civil War, yes."
"Like I said. Y' need m' perspective obviously. Y'all invaded m' town f' more'n fifteen years after the war."
"Rems?'
"Oui?"
"I’m an Indian."
"Bullshit."
"At least an eighth, if not a full quarter. On my dad's side. Don't give me any shit about not understanding."
"Y' ain't from the South, cher. That's all that matters. Hell, y'r state didn' even exist yet." Scott swiped at the Cajun who ducked. Scott settled in his usual position on the desk with his cane next to him so he could use it as a pointer. Or a weapon if worst came to worst.
His class settled down. "Okay, today is the American Civil War. And don't say it, Remy. Opposition viewpoints come later."
"Oui, Scotty."
"Don't call me Scotty." Scott started his lecture and the class scribbled furiously. Scott Summers didn't provide overheads unless he needed a map. He gave his students a full set of notes in the beginning of the class, but the real meat of it wasn't written anywhere. Not even the textbooks at times.
*****
"Remy, next time I say you can sit in for a class? I'm lying."
"Come on, cher, y' loved it."
"I'm going to make you a guest lecturer soon."
"Y' wouldn't dare."
"The university already considers us a two for one deal. You do all the work that they'd have to pay a grad student for."
"What about Randy? He be a good kid."
"Yeah, but he's still a kid. The self-defense classes are going well?"
"Very well. He's takin' to it like a gator to flesh."
"Oh, that's disgusting."
"One of Belle's. T'ink she made it up."
"I'm sure she did. Okay. Time for this meeting. Do I look presentable?"
"T'ink y'll do. Bonjour, petite."
****
Jubilee looked up in shock. "Remy! Scott!" She tackled Scott in a bear hug then threw herself at the Cajun. "Where the fuck have you been, Gumbo?"
"Right here wit', Scotty. Hey, Logan," Remy said more softly when she released him to go back to Scott. He tipped his head to the side self-consciously to minimize the impact of the scaring. Logan reached out and tipped the face upright studying it.
"Lookin' better. Not great, but better. San Fran must work fer ya."
"Yeah. I leave y'all t' talk 'bout t'ings. Gotta go meet up wit' Louise."
"Bullshit, Cajun. Get into the office. If I've gotta deal, so do you."
"Bitch."
"Takes one," Scott snapped back. Jubilee's jaw dropped.
"Sun's been good to you," she stated with a whistle. "Now, about the history department."
"Step into my parlor, little fly."
*****
"Professor Scott!"
"Great Scott," Remy muttered into Jubilee's ear. She cracked up as Randy jogged over to them.
"Professor, I've got a question on that book you suggested."
"The Art of War was not a suggestion, it's a required text."
"No, the other one."
"Oliver Twist?"
"Nope."
"The Bourne Papers."
"No, that wasn't it either."
"He's talkin' on Gone with the Wind, I t'ink."
"There's a book?"
"Oui, cher. An' there's a second one written from the slave perspective too. Remy'll find it f' y'."
Scott smacked the back of the Cajun's head.
"I know! I know! No, third person. Y' gettin' so bossy."
"He's always been bossy, kid," Logan snorted.
Jubilee took Remy's arm. "Aren't you gonna introduce me?"
"Not unless you're planning to stay," Scott informed her. "I'll give the class a full suggested reading list, okay?"
"Yeah, that'll be cool. Hey, Remy, what time's the next class?"
"Two."
"Right. See you then."
Scott nodded and Remy waved as Randy moved off. "We were headin' fer food?" Logan stated.
"Yes. Remy, that little place is walking distance right?"
"Which one?"
"Jamacian."
"Oui. I'll lead."
"So how ya like San Fransico, Cyke?"
Scott shrugged. "Until the two of you showed up is was the perfect place to start over."
"Why'd ya run away, Slim?"
"Fuck off, Logan," Scott said cheerfully. "We got students coming?"
"Yeah, three on the left. No one I recognize."
Scott caught hold of Remy's ponytail. "Heel."
"Asshole."
"Let them pass." Remy rolled his eyes. Logan's brows shot up.
"Ya let him get away with that?"
"Why not?" Remy asked in surprise.
Logan blinked. "He's orderin' ya around. You never listen to orders, Gumbo."
"Logan, y' don't know shit about me."
"Then maybe it's time I start learnin'. About both of ya."
****
"So, you two come here often?" Logan grinned as they settled into a booth. Remy waved cheerfully at the cook.
"Oui. Y' eat what she brings y' and be happy 'bout it."
"Damn. It's like eating at the mansion."
"Non. She's a better cook than Jean." Logan growled low in his throat and reached across the table to force the Cajun's head straight. "Fuck off, Logan."
"Stop hidin'."
"I hate the pity, Logan. I don't need it. So I minimize it."
Jubilee stared. "Where's yer accent?"
"It's there when I need it."
Scott stroked Remy's ponytail in absent comfort. "How is Bobby?"
"In Scotland. Moira's not hopeful."
"Damn. So he's going to be in a coma until he dies?"
"Or he'll wake up tomorrow. We don't know."
"Too bad. He's a good kid. Stupid, but a good kid."
Remy rolled his eyes. "Y' emailed Henri, oui?"
"Yes, brat."
"Good. Told y' y'd get the hang of the machine."
"Ha, ha. I touch typed it. He'll have to decipher it. Don't sigh at me like that."
Remy sniffed theatrically and Scott smacked him across the shoulder. The waiter brought four orders of the special of the day. "Merci, Benny."
"Your welcome, Remy. Oh, sis wants to know if your still looking for models?"
"Yep. Tell her to give me a call. The openin' is in a week. On Friday. Did she get the invite?"
"Yeah. I'm coming to. To protect her honor."
"Right. As if she has honor. That girl cheats at poker."
"Warned you not to play strip poker with her." Benny winked. "You need anything you call."
"Will do."
"Is his sister the one that cursed you out last Friday?" Scott asked.
"Non, that was JoAnne. She's Bethany's sister from 307. I wouldn't let her get a copy of the test."
"Good guide dog."
"I'm hirin' Randy next semester. See if I don'."
Scott pouted. "You don't love me anymore. I guess I have to find my own place now."
"Don't even t'ink 'bout dat. I'd just have t' crash on y'r couch. Y'd never get any work done." Logan's nose twitched as he picked up on the faintest whiff of fear. Seemed that some things never changed. The Cajun was still thinking that he'd get thrown away. Scott's hand settled on the Cajun's thigh as Remy carefully arranged Scott's place for him. He made sure the glass was at 1 o'clock and on around the plate. "Curry chicken. Chicken's on the bottom left third."
"Merci."
Jubilee stared. "You two make a cute couple."
"Gag," Remy stated.
Scott grinned. "Welcome to sunny San Fran. You can spend the rest of the next four years wondering if the Cajun's actually tumbled me. And maybe remember that both of us are actually married."
"The Cajun's married?"
"Yep. Didn't you ever hear about Belladonna?"
"The blonde? I didn't know you were married to her. I just thought she was a friend from home."
"You met her?"
"The two of them took me shopping."
"Belle likes to meet the femmes in my life. All of them." Scott's brows rose.
"Is that why she came to the mansion?"
"She wanted t' meet Roguie." Remy shrugged and dug into his meal.
"The mansion's nothing like it used to be. Things are really strange with Stormy and Rogue in charge." Jubilee shook her head. "And Hankster's all depressed. I don't know what to do about it."
"It's not for you to do anything but remind him that you still love him. And remind him that he's not God."
"Non, he's kinder," Remy muttered.
"What have you two been gettin' up to?" Logan asked.
"Scotty's bein' a professor. Remy's gettin' back int' art. And gradin' papers." Remy shrugged.
"What did I warn you about that?" Scott snapped. Remy winced.
"De sole, cher. Anyway, Scotty's got hisself a degree and *I* have an openin' at an art gallery. Photography mostly. Some paintin'. M' hand ain't up t' fine details yet."
Scott frowned. "You didn't tell me you were having trouble with your hands."
"It's bein, Scotty. I'm gettin' it all back. It's just gonna take longer'n a year. That ain't surprisin'."
"I didn't know there was anything wrong with your hands."
Remy's eyes dropped and he poked at his veggies. "Burnt 'em." He shrugged. "Ain't a big deal."
"Yes, it is a big deal, but we'll talk about it at home. Is the place presentable enough for guests?"
"It's clean enough f' a drill sargent t' visit," Remy drawled. "Y're rubbin' off on me."
"You wish."
Logan's jaw dropped. Remy winked at him. "You're gettin' us confused again, Scotty."
Scott snorted. "Brat."
"Don' y' like me?"
"Stop pouting."
"That's just freaky," Jubilee stated, looking between them. "Shit, what did you do to the man?"
"Not'in'. That's pure Scotty, petite."
"As soon as we finish eatin', we're goin' to yer place and talk fer a bit."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Runt, sir," Scott sneered. "Christ. I go away for a year and a half and suddenly he thinks he can order me around."
"T'ought you liked that sort of t'ing," Remy said idly. Scott snorted.
"Not my scene."
"Too bad. Plenty of boys t' fix you up with 'round here. Ah well."
Jubilee giggled.
*****
"Damn, Cajun, ya keep a clean place."
"Talk t' the drill sargeant."
"Hey, you're the one who refused to get a harness."
"I weren't gonna let y' get me up in the middle of the night 'cuz y' wanted t' pee. That's why y' got a cane."
"Which is useless against piles of clothing."
"Dat was *one* night and y' never let dis po' boy f'get it!"
"And one of these days I'll use my cane the way I said I would."
"Promise?"
"Not if you'll enjoy it."
"Connard."
"Asshole." Scott waved to the side. "Kitchen's in there. Jubilee, get us something wet and cold and alcoholic. It's going to be a long night. Do we have any appointments tonight?"
"Non, cher. Not'in' f' t'night. 'Course y' didn't tell m' 'bout havin' a visitor after class t'day neither."
"I told you. You've just been caught up in opening type t'ings."
"Y' gone and picked up my accent finally? Good. About time. Now I can mock you."
"You do that anyway."
"True. But it'll be mo' fun this way."
"Both of you shut up!" Jubilee snapped. "What the fuck happened? Why did you leave the fucking mansion? Why does nobody ever tell me anything?" She stood there four bottles of beer in her hand.
"Hand over the beer and I'll make the Cajun tell you a story." She gave one to Scott and then passed out the other two, keeping one for herself. "Just make sure you don't drink enough to fall asleep before the end."
"I can hold my liquor unlike some people."
"I resemble that remark. Rems, you have any of those little pills around?" Remy dug into the pocket of his jeans for the pillbox he kept filled with Excedrin. He handed one over. "Only one?"
"If y're drinkin' y' only get one. Y' know how quick y' go through them."
Scott took the pill with a mouthful of beer. "Now, tell the girl what happened."
"Non. Y' get the tellin' duty."
"Gambit."
"Cyclops," Remy imitated Scott's tone perfectly.
"Fine. We were on a mission. The professor had picked up a disturbance in the force. It was, let's just say it was a mistake to go in the way we did. We scared the shit out of a group of mutant teenagers who couldn't control their powers." Jubilee winced at that. "And all Hell broke loose. Phoenix tried to calm them down, but it didn't work that easily. Then, things started exploding. There were some bottles of kerosene or something there for their lights and they went up. The whole place was on fire. The skylight exploded and half of the roof came with it. My visor, of all things, broke. The thief pulled me out. And he'll have to tell you the rest because I got one fucker of a concussion. I don't remember much about it except threatening to pluck Hank clean. And that Bobby was caught by a roofing beam and hasn't woken up since."
"So?" Jubilee prompted the Cajun.
"Bobby was in a bad way. Blood was everywhere. The chilen had finally responded to Jeannie, but she had her hands full wit' him. I heard Scotty and went t' pull him out. 'Nough said."
"What happened, Cajun?" Jubilee snarled. "Don't make me force Wolvie to hurt ya, bub."
Remy rolled his eyes. "I got burnt pullin' him out. Got caught in a flame-over sort of t'ing. M' face and hands. Didn't even notice it 'til Stormy got freaked."
"Which don't tell us why y'all left without a word," Logan snapped.
Scott flicked the Canadian off. "I told Charles I was leaving. He didn't believe me. I told Jean I was leaving. She didn't believe me. This one found me at the bus stop and came with me."
"Gumbo? Heard ya had a fight or two before ya left."
"Told Charles I weren't a Summers. Wanted me t' work wit' Roguie f' leadin'. Rogue an' me broke up. Stormy and me had a fight about whether I was duckin' my responsibilities."
"Ain't ya?"
"Non. Scott's m' responsibility."
"Why?" Logan pressed.
"Cuz."
"Why?"
"Leave him alone," Scott ordered.
"No. I want to know why the fuck the boy walked out on me."
Everyone in the room froze for a moment. "I didn't walk out on you, Logan. You ain't never been interested in me. You're thinkin' like Charles. I ain't y'r boy. He's over there." Remy went to the kitchen to get another round of beer. Logan stalked after the Cajun. He grabbed his arm and turned him. The thief looked at him evenly. There was no coy cock to his head, no smirk on his lips. "I ain't never been anythin' but a substitute t' y'," he said in a low voice. "Y' t'ink I don' notice t'ings? Y' t'ink I'm some back-alley whore that don' notice when y' scream someone else's name? We bot' know who y' really want, so let me go." Scott frowned in their direction. Remy's voice was barely below his range. He caught a few words, but he knew the tone of voice. Remy was rarely poisonous to friends. "Y' angry at m' f' not bein' Scott or f' callin' y' on it? Y' wanna hit m'. So why don't y' just do it?"
"Ya know I ain't gonna hurt ya Cajun." Logan's grip eased, but there was a growl still underlying his voice. Remy pulled away gently.
"We ain't finishin' this conversation. It was not'in' but sex. Y' know that. Now, get over t' that couch, pup-pup." Logan looked at the thief for a long time.
"Yer wrong," was all he said.
"And y' been in love, deep, painful, bone-deep love wit' Cyke f' as long as I known y'. I know the difference, Logan. Always have. Maybe y' should look at y'r heart a little closer." Remy pushed gently and Logan went back to the couch. Scott cocked his head in Remy's direction.
"Better have one for me."
"'Course, cher." Remy handed over the bottle. Jubilee rolled her eyes.
"You two are so sweet together. Now, I want some straight answers not this pussyfoot shit you've been feeding me."
"I should wash your mouth out with soap."
Jubilee snorted. "Just tell me the full truth."
"You can't handle the truth," Scott deadpanned. She threw her bottlecap at him and he dodged it. She stared.
"They told me you were blind."
"I am. I've just got a good sparring partner. Let's see. I left because I just couldn't take it. Everyone was walking around me on eggshells. I had to threaten Hank to get out of the med-lab. And I got sick of the whispered conversations. It's not my fault that no one listened to me when I told them I was leaving. What good was I doing there? None."
"What about Jeannie. You know, your wife?"
Scott gave Jubilee a sad smile. "We were waiting on the divorce papers. After the explosion she decided that she wasn't going to divorce me. She couldn't leave me to face the world alone, were her exact words I think." The mall-rat winced.
"Man that's harsh."
"So, I made the decision go away." Scott shrugged. "That also meant I didn't have to listen to Charles babbling on about how I had train a replacement. I gave him a list of people who'd make good team leaders. He was surprised that I'd thought of it." Scott scowled. "He forgot that I wasn't seventeen."
"Charles f'gets that a lot," Remy commented. He savored his beer. "Shit," he said suddenly and lunged for the phone. He dialed quickly. "Missy, hey, chere. Oui. Y' got those forms f' me? Mind leavin' them in Scotty's mailbox? I'll pick 'em up later t'day. Got caught up wit' some business from home. Merci, ma petite. Slave driver. Oui, I'll make sure they get filled out. Merci, Missy." Remy hung up. "Je suis desole."
"The class req forms?"
"Oui."
"Better you than me."
Remy rolled his eyes. "I'm teachin' y' t' use that machine. See if I don't. I got a readin' program for a reason."
"But I like your voice much better. The computer sounds like Magneto on ludes."
"I keep tellin' y' that poutin' ain't gonna work on me."
"Bullshit." Scott smirked in the direction of his guests. "Got him wrapped around my little finger. Waits on me hand and foot. Why else would I want to. . . put that pillow down, Remy."
"Watch y' mouth then, boy," Remy drawled. Scott's smile widened.
"I like it when you drawl."
"Then, I'll just have to quit won't I?" Remy taunted in the snottiest British accent he had in his repitior.
"You do and I'll tell Missy that you want to run out on her."
"That's cheatin', cher. I don't t'reaten y' with Missy."
"Missy likes me. It's just that when paperwork doesn't get done, it isn't my fault anymore. If I'd known you were so good at it, I'd have had you as my assistant at the mansion."
"Y'd've tried."
"But I’m your responsibility, remember?" Remy scowled in Scott's direction. "So, how much are we going to tell them?"
Remy sat back with a sigh. "Depends on what they want t' know."
"Why's Cyke your responsibility, Cajun?" Jubilee asked. She stared at the thief with steady blue eyes.
"Because that's the job I was meant t' do wit' the X-men. Protect him."
"Not Storm?" Logan tilted his head to the side. "What're we missin'?"
"That he's Sinister's best boy?"
"De word y' lookin' f' is experiment, y' miserable encule du mere."
"Watch the mouth, pretty boy, and I won't have to call Creed."
"Fuck y'self, Scotty," Remy said. It was surprisingly without rancor. Jubilee coughed up a trickle of beer as she stared. Logan's jaw had dropped and Remy savored the expression. It wasn't one the man wore very often. "T'ink we shocked them, cher."
"I'm sure we did." Scott patted Remy's arm. "Now, be a good boy and give them the long version."
"Non. T'ink it's more interestin' this way, me."
Logan snorted. "Yer runnin' a scam on us?"
"Nope." Scott settled back and sipped at his beer. "Tell them."
Remy glowered in Scott's direction. "When Remy was a pup, he couldn't control his powers. He went t' a docteur who said he could. Turned out this doc wanted more'n just money. He hired ole Gambit t' t'ieve f' him. Asked him t' get a team t'gether f' him. Then, t' lead them int' some tunnels and get the hell out of de place. I was free t' go after I got dem in, debt paid. Well, turns out they weren't doin' what Remy was told dey was. People was dyin' an' Remy could feel it. He barged in and got hisself cut up. The doc fixed him up again wit' not'in' more'n a long-sufferin' and disappointed look. Remy went on and picked up Stormy. Once he got t' the X-men, he started t' understand some of what le docteur had been tellin' him f' two years." Remy shrugged. "So when Scotty left, Gambit, he followed."
Scott nodded. "Have a sip." He offered his beer.
"Merci." Remy took a gulp from Scott's beer and handed it back. His own sat abandoned on the end table. He folded his hands in his lap and waited for the questions to come.
"Merci." Remy took a gulp from Scott's beer and handed it back. His own sat abandoned on the end table. He folded his hands in his lap and waited for the questions to come.
Logan's eyes narrowed. There was a palpable tension in his muscles. Jubilee rested a hand on his arm, feeling the muscles tremble. "Ya were part of the Massacre," Logan growled.
Remy inclined his head, waiting for the explosion.
"That ain't you, kiddo. How the fuck did you manage to get that fucked in the head?"
Remy shrugged. "Were just a security job. Done plenty of them, f' assassins and f' not. Mon pere, he did the same f' you an' yer team in Germany."
"I don't remember that."
"I know."
Jubilee's eyes narrowed. "Don't threaten, Gumbo. You'll just get hurt when I take your skinny Cajun ass down."
"Any time, petite." Remy smirked at her. She sent a small paf in his direction. He countered it with a bottlecap. They exploded in the middle of the room. Scott frowned.
"Both of you stop it. Remy isn't a threat, Logan."
"He's prickin' at me. Boy knows just where to hit to score on me."
"It's an artform, cher."
Logan lunged for the young man's throat. He felt Scott's cane impact his chest and gasped in surprise. "Surprise, Old Man. Adamantium. A birthday present from the thief. Sit down and listen to me for once you old motherfucker."
Logan snorted, but returned to his seat. "Why shouldn't I smack the brat around some?"
"It's not in your nature to hurt a friend," Scott snapped. "Don't pretend otherwise. You're mad at him, but not for doing his gods-be-damned job, so what are you pissed about?"
"Nothin'."
"Fucking liar." Scott shook his head and collapsed his cane. "You're going to drive me crazy. Both of you. Why don't you two take the rest of the day to finish visiting the campus, investigate the environs. Then, after we've all had a chance to think, we can talk again. And if I find out that either of you called the mansion and told them where to find us, I'll make sure you never find us again. Got it?"
Logan nodded. "Sure, Slim. Good idea. Come on, Jubes. Let's get out of here before I do something I'll regret."
Jubilee looked thoughtfully at the two men. Impulsively, she leaned down and kissed Scott full on the lips. Scott jerked back, stopped only by the back of the chair. "Bye-bye, boys." She batted her lashes at Remy.
Remy pouted. She rolled her eyes, then kissed him too. Logan growled. Jubilee grinned at him. "See you later." They left. The door closed with a sharp "click." Scott sighed.
"She's turning into you."
"I don't go kissin' folks for no reason."
"You screwed Logan?"
"Oui."
"Why?"
"Because. . . I don' know. He was there and I needed a warm body next t' me. Suppose anyone would've done. Merde, even M. Chat, I t'ink. But I needed t' feel. But it go too intense after, mais, after the fire. I couldn't take it. He was treatin' me like a piece of china that couldn't be taken down from the shelf. He wouldn't get rough. Merde, I've had women treat me rougher then Logan. It was drivin' me crazy. I didn't tell him I was goin'. He's the only one there I didn't have a screamin' fight wit'."
"Instead you had it here. God, I don't know what I’m going to do with you."
"I got some ideas."
"Cram it, Cajun."
"Damn, dat was one of the ideas. You went an' peeked."
"What did you say to him that pissed him off, Remy? I need the truth. I have to know what you said."
"I told him I weren't his whore. And if he thought he loved me maybe he shouldn't have screamed your name when he came."
Scott went white. He looked like he was going to throw up. "Fuck. He didn't."
"Oui, most of the time he did. Only time he ever called m' name was before and after. Weren't never me there in his head. I can only take so much of that. Ain't the first homme t' pretend I was someone else. Usually end up bein' his wife or son or somet'in', but I can't do it all de time. Sometimes I need t' be the one there, y' know?"
"I know." Scott reached out to stroke the Cajun's bangs. Remy leaned into the touch.
"I need a real drink, cher. And I need t' go get that paperwork done f' Missy so we ain't in dutch with her." Remy's voice was dull.
"Rems, don't think too much about it. You'll just make yourself sick. I know that for a fact."
"Already am sick, cher. Sick and twisted. Don't know why I'm surprised though. Ain't never been more than a whore t' the X-men."
"Stop it!" Remy winced away. "I will not listen to one more put down out of your lips. I finally break you of the third person bullshit and you start on this trip. Don't fucking think about it."
"I was a whore."
"But you aren't one now. You did what you needed to do to survive. You did your job. You didn't do it for fun or pleasure. You were used. But that's over."
"Is it?"
"Am I using you? Should I find a place on my own?"
Remy shuddered. "Non. Non. I can't stand bein' alone."
"I'm here. When you're ready to really talk to me, I'll still be here. Partners?"
"Oui. Partners." Remy shook Scott's hand.
*****
Jubilee looked speculatively at her partner and father. "Well, that was interesting."
Logan snorted. They were walking around the campus to "explore the environs" as Scott had suggested.
"No, it was very interesting. I found out why you've been such a pain in the ass since Remy disappeared. I thought it was just the fact that Scott was gone so you didn't have anyone to snark at. No, turns out you weren't getting any."
"Shut it, kiddo."
"No way. I mean honestly, Wolvie, you should have *told* me you were doing the Cajun. God knows he never did. He did mention having a fling with a guy, but I figured it was someone he'd met out on the town. He didn't even tell me about the fire. Neither did you. You didn't tell me they were hurt. You told me Scott was blind, but Remy just sort of slipped your mind. Or was he stuck in the other head?"
"Damn it, girl, I ain't talkin' about this with you."
"Who else? Huh? Your best friends are sitting in an apartment, learning to deal with the world again. I never thought I'd see the Cajun lose his looks. Never thought I'd see grey in his hair, but it's there. And he's scarred. And he's hurting. And the only thing you can do is accuse him of walking out on you. I don't remember you telling me you were fucking him, let alone committing to him!"
"Quiet down, will ya?"
"Hey, man, it's okay," a passerby said. He smiled. "You new here?" He was tall and gangly, like a young man that hadn't gotten his muscles yet. His hair was short and brown. He had a ring in his eyebrow, a barbell in his tongue and five earrings in one ear.
"She's lookin' at the college. Any advice?" Logan asked to divert the conversation somewhere safer, at least that's what he'd thought.
"Get Scott Summers for a class, and hook up with Remy LeBeau for self-defense. It's a great college. And this place is cool with untraditional lifestyles." The young man winked. "Good luck. . ." He raised his brows looking for a name.
"Jubilee." She smiled at him. "So, what's the gossip on Summers?" She ignored Logan.
"Bad accident blinded him, but he's a top-notch military historian. No body knows if he's really sleeping with his guide dog, or if they're just yanking our chains. It could go either way. He's a tough grader and requires all tests to be put in on tape. He likes arguments. What are you planning to study?"
"Military history and fashion design."
"Not exactly the same department. Interesting double major though. I'm in Fashion Design myself actually. I could show you around if you join up. Let me give you my e-mail."
The two exchanged email addresses. "I'm Luke Parsons by the way. And, dude," he said to Logan, "she has a point. If you're going to commit to someone, you've got to tell him."
Logan growled. Jubilee winked at Luke. "Merci buckets."
"De nada." Luke hurried on to his next class.
"Are ya done embarrassing me?"
"You shouldn't be ashamed of who you are, Logan." Jubilee grinned at him. Then, she sobered. "You should have told me, Logan. If I'd known, I might have been able to crack the Cajun's code and gotten him to actually tell you what was wrong."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"That boy's an empath. He just doesn't use it. He needs people like he needs air to breath. Then, suddenly, people won't even look at him. Can you even imagine it? You've been defined by your pretty face for your whole life and then bang, flash, it's all gone and you're nothing but a rapidly aging, scarred, mutie thief who doesn't know who he is anymore. And Scotty? Mr. I can calculate an angle in my head and shoot pool without a losing a break suddenly can't see. His whole world has gone 'poof' and he's being treated with kid gloves by the one person he thought could trust, his wife. She treats him like the worst kind of retarded cripple. No wonder he had to leave."
"Ya got all that out of that conversation?" Logan's brows raised.
"Nope. I read between the lines of that conversation, pieced together e-mail from the whole crew and tacked on the pieces that Remy gossips about on the phone when we talk for five hours every second Sunday of the month."
"Five hours? That's a lot of hot air."
"Ha. Ha. Very funny. He's the only one of you that ever had to fight his way into college. He didn't even know how to read until he was ten. He's the only one of you freaks I'm willing to trust with my LD woes."
"LD? Ya never told me that."
"Yeah, well, you weren't around when it came up. Gumbo was. I don't want everyone knowing because then they'll start treating me like I'm an idiot, when it's just that I've got problems with mixing up numbers." She rolled her eyes. "Math is not a strong suit."
Logan shook his head. "Learn somethin' new every day."
"You over wanting to kill Remy for not being your fuck-toy?"
"Where did you get that mouth? I ought to wash it out with soap."
"Try it and I'll sue."
"I ain't got any money left after sendin' you, Kitty, and Yukio to college," he grumbled.
"But you love us more than money."
"Course I do." Logan sighed. "I better go apologize to the brat."
"Which one?"
"The red-head."
"Which one?"
"Don't make me tickle you."
Jubilee laughed.
*****
"Why look, cher, we got company," Remy said helping Scott off the motorcycle. "Wonder what they want."
Scott snorted. "Must be Jehovah's Witnesses trying to get us to see everything the right way. Wonder if we tell them about the sacrifices will they go away?"
"Non, looks like one right nasty guard dog and his girl. Too bad."
"Damn. How'd they find the place?"
Logan snorted. "Yer a regular comedy team, ain't ya?"
"Yup. Jubes, are you sure you don't want to dump the dog? We could let you crash on the couch."
"Stop it, bub," Logan said. "I came to apologize."
Scott tilted his head to the side. "I think I misheard you. Did you just say the word 'apologize?' I didn't think that was in your vocabulary."
"Can we do this inside?"
Scott put a hand on Remy's shoulder. He squeezed. "Sure, Logan. Why not?" Remy answered. "Y' can call it through the back door."
Logan glowered. "I'm sorry."
"F' what?" Remy asked. His voice was studied innocence.
"Fer treatin' ya bad. Fer tryin' to interfere in yer life here."
Remy nodded once. "Okay. Y' can come in. But if y' start yellin' I'm throwin' y'r sorry ass out. Jubilee can stay."
*****
Remy settled into his favorite chair. He pulled his feet up onto it. Scott sprawled on the end of the couch. Jubilee curled up next to him. Logan took the other end of the couch. "So? Talk."
"I'm sorry, kiddo."
"F' what?"
"Not tellin' ya that I cared."
Remy snorted. "Y' only think you care, cher."
Logan growled low in his throat. "Why do ya say that?"
"Well, cher, it's like this. I been y'r friend f' a long time. In all that time, you ain't never told me 'bout y'r daughter in Japan. Y' never said a word 'bout Mariko.
TBC
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