Title: Somet'in's You Shoul' Know

Author: Zingo (Email)

Website: none

Rating: G

Pairing/main characters: Jean-Luc LeBeau, the X-Men

Series/Sequel: complete

Summary: After the trial Jean-Luc decides to come to Westchester and talk to the X-Men about his son.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to Marvel. No money is being made.

Notes: Timeline: Bastion hasn't happened.

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Somet'in's You Shoul' Know

By Zingo

 

The X-men were gathered in the War Room in response to Xavier's mental request. They were waiting for Xavier to arrive.
"Ah wonder what this is about." Rouge shifted nervously in her seat next to Joseph.
"Probably wants to meet the new team," Wolverine growled sarcastically, as he chomped on an unlit cigar. It had only been 2 days since Xavier's return from wherever he had been - he hadn't told the X-men anything yet - and this was their first meeting.
The "new team" included Cecilia Reyes, Marrow, and Maggot who were ranged on one side of the room; Reyes was openly curious about meeting the great Professor X, while Marrow was striving to look bored and uninterested, but Wolverine could tell she was nervous, while Maggot was leaning against a wall, taking it all in.
The "old" X-men were all present, with one glaring exception: it had been a month since Rogue had summarily been judge, jury and executioner at Gambit's trial. On Wolverine's left was Storm, who while always regal in bearing, was now coldly imperious. When she had learned what Rogue had done she had been furious, and had immediately launched a rescue mission for Gambit, but although she searched Antarctica for the better part of a week, no trace was to be found. She had been back for a week, and refused to talk to Rogue at all.
Rogue, for her part, was happy to avoid the weather witch. In fact relations had cooled between Storm and Angel and Iceman as well, the former because he still blamed Gambit for the loss of his original wings - Warren seemed to be nursing his hatred; the latter had never liked Gambit, and was making no secret of the fact that he was glad the Cajun was gone.
Bobby, Warren and Betsy were standing across from the newest X-men. Beside them, between Wolverine and Storm, was Beast, who with his usual aplomb, was perched on the edge of a console behind him, and Jubilee who was furiously indignant on her friend Gambit's behalf, and who was currently silently smoldering with barely restrained ire.
Scott and Jean were at the opposite end of the room. Cyclops was looking forward to having the Professor back at the helm, to deal with the tensions that were still running high. Scott wasn't sure what to think about Rogue's leaving Remy to die: on the one hand, he had never liked Gambit, Gambit was too... cavalier for his liking, and part of him felt relieved that the unpredictable Cajun was no longer his responsibility; on the other hand, almost all the X-men had less than exemplary pasts, and if the dream was to mean anything, then as much as he would be happy never to hear any of Gambit's nonchalant smart-ass remarks ever again, he shouldn't have been abandoned. He was torn on this issue, which was made worse by the fact that his wife was quite decided, and didn't entirely understand how he could even entertain any doubts. Things had not been easy in the Summer household of late... Scott's musing was interrupted by the arrival of the Professor in his hoverchair.
The Professor still looked haggard, and he had lost weight, but he seemed as unruffled and imperturbable as ever. He had an air of suppressed power and he looked like he was holding himself in check.
He moved his chair to the head of the conference table and looked around him at the assembled X-men, some of whom he had never seen before. He waited until he had their attention and then started to speak.
Or would have started, if someone had not chosen that exact moment to open the War Room door, silently, and cut him off before he could utter a word.
"I gues' you're wond'rin' why I called dis meetin'."
The X-men turned as one towards the sound of that voice, Storm with hope, Rogue with fear, and Bobby and Warren with disgust etched on their handsome faces. All of it was replaced by astonishment and surprise, for it was not Gambit who stood in front of them. Rather it was a stranger who had somehow bypassed all their security and had made it into the mansion without triggering any of the alarms.
The man was dressed all in black and was in his late fifties, with only a sprinkling of gray in his dark hair. His face was weathered and still, his gray eyes cold and unforgiving.
Wolverine knew who he was almost immediately - his scent would have given it away, even if the accent hadn't. It was Rogue, however, who spoke.
"You're Remy's father." The older man inclined his head in acknowledgment.
"Is Remy alright? Have you heard from him?" Storm asked in desperate hope.
Jean-Luc LeBeau's steel gray eyes, softened slightly as he shook his head, Yes.
"Oui, I've heard from Remy. In fact, dere were somet'in's he wanted you t' know. And somet'in's I'm pretty sure he never wanted you t' know. I brough' a friend who's gonna help me explain some t'in's t' you." Unnoticed in the general clamour of Jean-Luc's more dramatic entrance, a slim young woman, also all in black, with dusty blonde features and hair, was standing in the doorway. "Giselle, s'il vous plaît.."
"Hey, waita minit, we don't gotta si.." Iceman was cut off in mid-protest, as all of the people present, including the two foremost telepaths in the world, found themselves inextricably bound mentally, forcibly pulled onto the astral plain. But it was not the vast empty space they were familiar with, instead it was filled with images of a cold and dingy cityscape; back alleys with trash overflowing from dumpsters and the bleary eyes of the dispossessed homeless souls, lingering in loading docks, and other nooks.
"I wan' t' show you somet'in', and I t'ink dat it's importan' dat even dose of you who did not know Remy, see dis, so you know what kind o' people you're gettin' in wit'. Dis is where I first met Remy. Dis is from my mem'ry."
And suddenly the assembled X-men could see two men talking at the end of the alley way. One was a much younger Jean-Luc LeBeau, and the other had to be a cop, just from his bearing.
"Oui, dat be me an a frien' o' mine. Now watch." As they watched a small figure edged into Jean-Luc's peripheral vision. It was evening, and the scene was only lit by a single street lamp, so they didn't get a good look at the figure, but it was enough to ascertain that it was a small boy of six or seven, who looked skinny and malnourished and eerie, in light of his red-on-black eyes. When Jean-Luc turned to look at the boy more closely, the boy had somehow faded back into the shadow. Jean-Luc, was about to dismiss it, when he felt a light touch at his back pocket, that he knew someone who wasn't a thief wouldn't have felt, and he whirled around to catch his would-be-burglar in the act. He clamped his hand down on the slender arm that was already retreating, and pulled the youngster into the lamplight.
The collected mutants sharing Jean-Luc's memories were variously shocked and appalled when they saw who had been drawn into the lamplight. It was Remy, of course, but they had not expected him to look so cold and feral at the tender age of six. He was scruffy, his clothes looked like they had never been washed, his face was pale and dirt smeared, and he was frightenly thin. But the worst part was seeing his cold, hard red-on-black eyes as they looked bleakly up at the man who had just caught him, red-handed, a look which was quickly replaced by a front of bravado and that cocky, knowing grin, which was calculated to infuriate.
"Y' be wantin' t' let me go M'sieur. De las' bunch o' hommes who didn' are dead, neh?" Remy had gone still under Jean-Luc's scrutiny, but he was tense as a coiled spring, ready to flee at the first opportunity. "If y' don' believe me, jus' ask your cop frien', oui?" Remy baited, nodding at Jean-Luc's companion. Jean-Luc glanced quizzically at his silent companion, who only looked at the young mutant for a disgruntled moment, and then nodded. Jean-Luc then carefully let go of Remy, but before he could run, said, in his best command voice, "Wait!" The boy in the memory paused on the edge of the lamplight, silently waiting for whatever Jean-Luc had to say. "If you ever need anyt'in', you ask for Jean-Luc, at the coffee shop on Main Street and I'll come t' help you. Always." The boy just snorted in disbelief and was gone into the night.
Jean-Luc allowed the memory to fade and signaled Giselle to release the X-men from the shared-memory trance. Iceman went to Ice mode in a heart beat, and would have advanced on the Head of the New Orleans Thieves Guild, had not Wolverine interposed himself between them and got Bobby's attention with a "snikt" of his claws.
"What, so Remy's got a rotten past? So it turns out he always was a cold-hearted killer and that he just started young? This just proves that he..."
"Enough!" Roared Storm, "I don't think Mr. LeBeau is finished yet, and I think the point he was trying to illustrate is that Remy has never had reason to trust people, starting from a very young age."
"Did he really kill someone, so young?" asked Rogue in a subdued voice.
"After my young frien' left, I had a 'talk' with my "cop frien'" an discover'd dat dere was an unsolved homicide dat happen'd about six mont's before, dat had left three gang members dead, and two more unconscious. When de two gang members woke up, dey swore dat it was a "devil chil'" with red eyes, and dat dey were jus' havin' a "lit'le fun" wit' him and he flipped out an' all o' a sudden dere was dis blindin' pain in dere heads. Den not'in'. Now, I have my own sources on de streets, an so I ask aroun' an it seems dat the gang members were bein' a lit'le less dan trut'ful with de cops. It seems dey were tryin' to rape de chil', an as near as anyone could tell the chil' hit dem wit' some sorta mental blast. Den no one had seen the chil' aft'r dat, an dat seemed to be dat. It shoulda been pretty easy to track a young boy wit' red-on-black eyes, but I didn' see or hear about him again til almost a year later, when he fin'ly asked for some help." Jean-Luc was silent, then, thinking of the scared and lonely child who had finally broken down and come in search of him.
Charles spoke into the silence, "I always thought our young friend had more abilities than he was showing us. So he is telepathic, and capable of using that ability aggressively."
Pyslocke, who understood telepathic abilities only too well, whispered in an awed tone: "You mean, he could kill with just his mind," and understanding from her own powers the strength Remy had to have, shivered at the thought.
"Well, it explains why his psychic shields are so strong, and why he can't be traced telepathically," Jean murmured.
Beast's ever-present curiosity was peaked. "I wonder what other marvels our covert companion was concealing from us?"
Angel's wings unfurled dangerously, his wingtips quivering with the need to launch his projectiles at someone. "I can't believe you are taking this so rationally! Gambit was a traitor, who cost me my wings, and very nearly Kurt and Kitty's life, and HE LIED TO US about it, and when he tells us that Gambit also failed to mention that he can kill with a thought, for Christ's sake, you find that INTERESTING?!"
Wolverine had had enough. "You seem ta be conveniently overlooki' the fact that you KNOWINGLY worked for Apocalypse, whereas, the Cajun at least, had no idea what Sinister had planned, an when he did find out, he did everthin' he could to make it right!"
"But that still doesn't excuse his lying to us, and not telling us in the first place," fumed Iceman. "He should have told us.."
"Why? So we could kick him out? It looks like his fears were certainly justified," Jubilee noted acerbically.
"Arrête! Giselle!" And just as easily, all were once again locked into the memory-trance.
"I need t' show you why de chil' fin'lly came t' me for help."
This time the scene was just past dusk at the end of summer, at a small café on the main street of New Orleans. Jean-Luc was sitting at a table on the patio, nursing his fourth coffee of the day, as he waited, in response to the summons he had received the previous night. He had been there for five hours, doing some business, and enjoying the day, but now all his business was done and he had instructed his fellow guild members to be sure that he was not disturbed this evening, as he had an important contact to meet. Which was true in a sense. Yesterday, the young thief from a year ago, with the red-on-black eyes, had turned up, asking Henri who took the occasional shift, for M'sieur Jean-Luc. Jean-Luc recalled his conversation with Henri.
"Pere, de young petit, dat you tol' us all t' be on de lookout for has fin'lly made an appearance. He came into de store, jus' before we closed las' night, when dere was no one dere but me, and said dat he was lookin' for you, and you'd said t' come here, an how, as he didn' really t'ink you'd be dere, but he'd come back tomorrow t' see. Dieu, Pere, I never seen a chil' so wary as dat one, but you could tell he in a bad way. He was t'in as a ghost, and tryin' t' act tough, but you could see somet'in' had him scared. I jus' hope he shows t'night, as he looked like he's on his las' legs. But den he was gone before I could offer any food." Henri had shaken his head silently and gone back to his duties, and Jean-Luc was left to wonder what could have prompted this unexpected visit.
Shortly after 10:00 that evening he found out. Once again the young thief just appeared out of the shadows, his eyes giving away his position, before the boy himself was visible. Even though Henri had warned him, Jean-Luc was shocked to see how much worse the boy looked. A grimy, oversized sweatshirt, and faded blue jeans hung off his bony frame, and his skin under his long reddy-brown hair was so pale, he looked like he would waste away before his eyes. The eyes were as cold as he remembered, and the boy's first words confirmed Henri's assertion that the boy was desperate.
"Y' said y'd help, oui? R'memb'r dat? Y' said anyt'in', an always. Y' mean it? Or was it jus' talk to get me t' 'work' for y'?" From the way the boy sneered when he said work it was clear he wasn't referring to thieving, but to the pimps that were always on the lookout for young flesh to peddle. The boy was standing in the street on the other side of the fence that enclosed the patio, ready to bolt, if he had just walked into a trap of some kind.
Something in Jean-Luc heart broke for this child who had obviously known no love or security in his young life. He carefully replied, making no overt moves towards the boy: "I meant what I said, petit. You wan' my help, you got it, d'accord? If you ask aroun' you'll find dat I'm a man of my word."
The boy nodded. "Oui, I've heard dat M'sieur LeBeau is as good as his word an dat y' don' say anyt'in' y' don' mean."
Jean-Luc was silent as the child weighed his options.
"Ok," he said quietly. And he proceeded to outline what kind of help he needed, and what it was surprised and touched the often world-weary Guild Master.
For the boy hadn't wanted food, or shelter or a home, or any of the other things a homeless child might be expected to ask for. No, he wanted Jean-Luc's help to stop a gang of teenagers who were grabbing 'muties' off the street, and apparently they had grabbed several members of this boy's unofficial 'family'. And the boy knew where the missing mutant children where being held, prior to being shipped wherever they were sent to, but the gangs had guns, and more sheer numbers than the boy could cope with on his own. In short, he wanted Jean-Luc to assemble an army to mount a rescue operation. Jean-Luc had been stunned.
But not for long. Just as the silence had stretched long enough for boy to believe that he had made a mistake after all, Jean-Luc shook himself and said, "Non, stay a moment, petit" and got up to call Henri and a few other friends he could trust. When he got back to the table, he thought that the child had gone, but realized as one of the shadows seemed to move away from the wall, that his young friend was waiting for him after all.
"Chil', can you lead Jean-Luc and a few friends to dis place, t'night?" Jean-Luc asked regarding the pale shadow in front of him.
"Oui, M'sieur" and those demon red eyes, seemed to glow a little brighter.
"Ok," Jean-Luc replied "but it will take some time for mes amis to show up, neh? In the meantime, how 'bout some food?" The boy simply shrugged, although it was clear his pretended indifference was just that. Jean-Luc got two sandwiches from the store and set them in front of the boy, who ate half of one silently and efficiently, and stored the remaining sandwiches in an inside pocket of the ragged sweat-shirt he wore, all the while watching Jean-Luc for any sign of a move against him.
Jean-Luc sighed internally to see the mistrust with which the boy viewed the world. "So what's your name boy?" Jean-Luc asked casually. Just as casually, the boy shrugged. "Don' know" came the reply. Before Jean-Luc could comment further, the boy offered, "I got a friend, she call me Remy." The boy, no, Remy, said this with a small puff of pride, and suddenly Jean-Luc was reminded that he was dealing with a seven or eight year-old boy, who should be at home, watching T.V. and wondering if Atari was better than Nintendo. He should be wrestling with his brother for the remote control not wrestling with gangs and guns. He felt a wave of pity for this youngster, but all he said was, "I t'ink it suits you, petit."
Jean-Luc was about to suggest they get some more food when his fellow guild members arrived. He got up to brief the fifteen men and three women who had showed up on their "mission". Then he turned to Remy. "Alright, Remy, can you show us where the other children are bein' held?" Remy wordlessly nodded and led the assembled teams out into the night.
Jean-Luc deliberately allowed his memory to fade, but did not have Giselle release them from the astral plane.
"Den we wen' on our "mission", but since it was unofficial guil' business, I'm not gonna show it t' you. Let's jus' say it was a success, an' we rescued six chil'ren, t'ree of whom had parents anxious t' have 'em back, an' de ot'er t'ree... were Remy's." Jean-Luc paused, and the others could feel the wave of awe that the Master Thief had experienced when he realized that these homeless children all looked up to Remy. And his pride as he watched Remy divide up the remainder of the sandwiches that Jean-Luc had given him earlier between the three scared young ones, who were being calmed and comforted by Remy, in spite of the fact that Remy looked close to dropping in exhausted relief at having them back safely.
Jean-Luc allowed the memory to shift. They were looking at a shabby two-story house, whose paint was flaking off the siding, with boarded-up windows. It was on a street with many other houses in similar states of disrepair, some with porches with shopping carts, and beat-up bicycles on them, some with cars that would never run again parked on the small lawns. Of all the guild members there were only Jean-Luc and his son Henri left. Beside them on the sidewalk were Remy and his 'family'. His 'family' consisted of a tall boy of about ten years old, who looked scruffy, but ordinary, a girl, approximately twelve, who glowed a faint red colour all over - it had been blue until Remy had calmed her down - and a pale girl with dusty washed out features who could not have been more than four, and who had not let go of Remy's hand since they had been reunited.
Jean-Luc saw faces peering at them from a second-story window. Apparently Remy saw them as well, for he gave a tired, deliberate wave, and the faces disappeared from view. Remy seemed to struggle to say something.
"M'sieur,.. No one has... I wan' t'... say? merci beaucoup? I didn' t'ink dat anyone woul'..." For a moment a brilliant flash of relief lit Remy's face before it was once more hidden behind the cocky facade. The boy seemed to collect himself. "Merci, M'sieur, an if y' ever need anyt'in', jus' let Remy know." The child turned to go into the house when Jean-Luc stopped him.
"Remy, attend. Can we get you some food, an maybe some clothes for the lit'le ones, oui?" As Remy stiffened with injured pride, Jean-Luc hastened to add, "so that when I need your help nex' time you'll be in better shape to help, non?"
Remy seemed about to refuse, when the four-year old tugged on this hand and whispered something in his ear. He looked down at her for a long moment, while Jean-Luc held his breath, and finally turned to Jean-Luc and Henri and said wearily, "D'accord."
Jean-Luc, greatly pushing his luck, asked, "Can we come in an' meet de res', so we know what sizes t' sen'?" Red-on-black eyes stared into his, perhaps judging his soul, and finally acquiesced, with a shake of his head, Oui.
The other two children had already gone into the house, and Remy turned with the child at his side and led the two thieves into his 'home'. Even though the Guild Master had known what to expect, the sight that children that greeted them left him feeling cold inside. There were seven other children inside, and each of them seemed to have their own 'rooms' in the house, as the various areas were cordoned off by curtains or beads. The youngest was a two-year old who was a light silver color with beautiful blue eyes who was in her fourteen-year old mother's arms; the mother did not look like a mutant in any way, and if Remy was definitely the leader in this house, she was the den mother.
There were five other children, including the two they had rescued who seemed to range in age from six to twelve. All of them were watching the two adults with distrust in their eyes, waiting to take their cue from Remy.
Remy told them, "It's alright, dis be M'sieur Jean-Luc and M'sieur Henri, an' dey helped me get Celeste, Liam et Giselle back. Dey gonna brin' us some food demain, an' somet'in' new t' wear. Y' can trus' 'em." With that Remy gently pushed the four-year old Giselle towards the fourteen-year old, and saying, "Here Giselle, let Maddie take care o' y' for a bit, neh?" left the room to disappear up the stairs.
Jean-Luc was mentally cataloguing the different children, when Maddie interrupted him.
<"Remy says you're not going to break us up, and I believe him, but that doesn't mean I trust you"> she said in French which Giselle translated for the watching X-men. Jean-Luc replied, <"I gave Remy my promise not t' turn any of you in, an' I keep my word."> Maddie regarded him silently for a moment, before conceding, <"Yes, Remy had Liam and Celeste out trying to get information on you, and everything they could overhear, said that you do not make promises lightly"> With that Maddie, switched back to English and had the children present themselves to the two thieves.
While they were being introduced to the other children, Jean-Luc asked Maddie how they had all come together in the house. The answer did not surprise him, somehow.
"Remy found us an' brought us all here."
And Jean-Luc finally allowed Giselle to drop the memory trance.
"That's what he thought he was doing when he was gathering the Marauders!" It was Marrow, who said it as one who has just had a world-tilting revelation. And perhaps she had, because her previous attitude towards the man who had saved her from the Morlock Massacre had not been one of gratitude.
"And when he realized, what he had done, he tried to fix it. He kept saying over and over again, how sorry he was as he carried me down the corridor. And if he hadn't been so injured, he would have gone back in." She stopped to contemplate her thoughts.
"An' DAT is what I wanted to tell you. An' one or two ot'er t'in's, an' I t'ink maybe I don' need Giselle for dis." Jean-Luc paused, and mentally bracing himself, said calmly: "I'm de one who introduc'd Remy t' Essex in de first place."
"How Could you...!" "What!!" "What were you thinkin'" and a distinctive, "Oh my stars..." were all shouted simultaneously from around the room. The clamor was becoming quite heated, when a mental shout from the Professor caught all of their attention at once.
*STOP! I think, if we let him Mr. LeBeau will explain.*
"Oui, merci Professeur. It was a coupl' of mont's aft'r shuttin' down the children-snatc'in' rin', an' aft'r I had foun' some homes for all o' Remy's 'family' dat I had fin'lly persuaded de petit t' live wit' me. I had t' promise Remy t' keep de house he was livin' in open for ot'er street kids, if dey needed it, before he woul' agree t' stay wit' me, an' dat home is still dere today. In fac' Remy has started many o' dose houses. He call dem 'Real Place'." At this many of the mutants around the room gasped, as many of them orphans themselves, had heard about the sanctuaries known as Real Place. Jean-Luc paused to let that sink in, before continuing. "Well, I had an eigh'-year old, who had killed t'ree men wit' his mind, had somehow convinced eigh' ot'er kids t' live t'get'er an take orders from him, an' he seemed t' quick t' be believed. I wanted t' see what I had, and Remy had already admitted dat he could "charm" people an' get dem t' do wha' he wanted, and dat he coul' sense where people an t'in's were in relation t' him at all times. So when I heard of dis guy who coul' tes' for mutan' powers, I asked Remy if he'd go an' he agreed. So I took him t' Essex. I hadn't heard anyt'in' bad about him den, so we wen'. An' Essex was fascinat'd wit' Remy, an' said while he migh' have had telepathic powers, dey were now hidden behin' some o' the stronges' psychic shiel's he'd ever seen, and dat the boy was definitely an empath which he coul' projec', which is how he got people t' do wha' he wanted. An' Remy also had a kinetic sense of everyt'in' aroun' him, excellen' nigh' vision 'cause o' his eyes bein' de way dey were, an' also heighten'd reflexes. In fac' Essex, though' dat Remy's full potent'l hadn't develop'd yet, an' he wanted to study Remy, but I wouldn't let him, and got Remy outta dere, cause by den dis guy was startin' t' give me de creeps."
"No shit, Sherlock! Like, what was your first clue?" snarled Jubilee, whose skin was sparking with barely controlled electric current.
"Jubilee! Calm DOWN!" barked Scott, "He didn't know who Sinsister was!"
"And HE didn't know what Sinister was doing" said Angel quietly, finally accepting a truth he'd been deliberately ignoring, as it was easier to lay the blame at someone else's feet.
And across the room, someone else was coming to the same conclusion.
"Ohmigahwd, whaht have ah done!" whispered Rogue in a silent and dreadful anguish. "At the trial, it ahll seemed so cleah.."
"Well, dat's de las' t'in' I gotta tell you. Remy said he forgives you, 'cause he know how bad it looked." But Jean-Luc's eyes looked anything but forgiving.
"Mr. LeBeau, how... is Remy alright?" asked Storm pleadingly.
Jean-Luc looked at Storm for a long time before speaking to the rest of the room.
"His kinetic charge, de power, you prob'ly know de most about, had one serious drawback. Any time he charg'd somet'in' it left him colder dan de objec' he charg'd 'cause heat mov'd out o' him wit' de charge. It was why he always wore gloves, an' de trenchcoat - it wasn't jus' t' hide de cards. So when you dropped him off in de Antarctic, an' he tried t' use his powers t' stay warm, it jus' ended up makin' him colder. When I heard where he was, I wen' down dere immediately an' brough' him back here." He paused and looked directly at Storm.
"I'm sorry, chere, but Remy is dead. It was t' late for him. And dat is de las' t'ing I gotta tell you." He paused and said with deadly stillness and deliberation, "I came down here t' tell you dat an' I was gonna kill you all for takin' my ot'er son away from me, but I t'ink it be better t' let you live wit' what you've done. Je suis desolé, Storm, but alt'ough Remy was not one for tellin' about himself, I t'ink he'd want you to know dis. Maybe it means somet'in' t' you. Knowin' it had not helped me much." He looked somberly around the room at the X-men, some of whom were crying, some of whom were in shock, and some of whom had never met Remy, and said, "C'mon ma fille, let's leave dem wit' what dey've done."
And he and Giselle left the shattered X-men as silently as they had come.

 

END