"Remy LeBeau, please."
 "One moment," the professor replied. He put the woman on hold. "Gambit," he
said into the intercom, "you have a phone call on the main line."
 Gambit rolled over and rubbed his eyes. He peered at the clock and was
surprised to see that it was nearly dinner time. He grabbed his extension. "Got
it," he told the professor. "Hello?"
 "Remy?"
 "Belle?" He sat straight up. "Belle, chere, what's wrong?"
 "Not'in', husband," she smirked into the phone. He sounded as if he'd just
woken up. "Just wonderin' why I'm getting flowers from a married woman."
 Remy's brain stalled. "Hehn?"
 Belle laughed. She put her feet up on her desk and grinned at the floral
arrangement. "I have flowers sittin' here from Jean Summers."
 "Merde. Dat woman! She goin' t' drive m' crazy."
 "Too late. I already did that," she teased lightly. "So y've finally dumped
Mississippi? She weren't no good f' y' anyway."
 "So everyone keeps tellin' m'. Y' okay wit' m' getting new lovers?"
 Belladonna Boudreaux had her pride. "I'm jealous as Hell, cher, but y' deserve
t' smile. I like de way y' eyes look when y' happy. Y' learned t' touch again?"
 "M' powers got damped down awhile back."
 "I remember. After y' got outta de hospital. Y' didn' sound too happy 'bout dat
den."
 "Weren't all dat happy. Dings happened dat I wish I could undo. I wish wit' all
m' might, chere. But lessenin' m' powers be f' de best. Ain't gonna charge de
bedroom when I'm makin' love, oui?"
 "I wouldn't know. I'm neglected down here."
 "All y' need t' do is call," he chided her, finally waking up.
 "So, y're doin' Jean? Ain't her husband got somet'in' t' say about dat?"
 "Why? I'm doin' him too. An' deir pup Wolverine."
 "What!"
 Remy laughed at her. "De Summers trio has decided dat dey want a Cajun in de
mix. An' po' Remy's de one dey decided t' choose. Don' dink it be fair, chere,
what wit Remy just wakin' up from his coma two weeks back."
 "Oh, my po' abused T'ief. Y' just bring y'self right back here and Bella will
kiss an' make it all better. Den, I'll beat de shit out of y' f' not bein' de
one t' let m' in on dis when it happened."
 "Belle, I. . ."
 "Y' didn' dink it was gonna last."
 "Oui."
 "Remy, cher, y' be de biggest fool on de planet. Y' know dat right? A trio goes
out of de way t' pull y' in and y' question it. Cher, even if it ain't f' keeps,
y' know damn well dat y' been in love wit' half of dat team of y'rs since y' got
dere. Y' can't lie t' me. I know y' too well, boy."
 "Oui, Belle. Whatever y' say, Belle."
 "Y' just be a good boy and send m' *interestin'* letters and I won't have t'
come up dere and hurt y'."
 "Oui, chere." Remy snickered. He sobered. "Y' sure y' okay wit' dis?"
 "Remy, how long have I had a lover?"
 "Since one year after de weddin'."
 "Oui. Now, am I really gonna get mad at y'?"
 "Y' used t'."
 "Oui, but I've grown up. I've gotten over bein' jealous of y'. Well, mostly. I
won't say it don't hurt, but, mon couer, I've always loved y'. Y' always gonna
be m' best friend. I never t'ought I'd get y' back after y' fought Julien. I'm
willin' t' take what I can get from y'."
 "Ah, chere. Je t' aime, Bella."
 "Je t' aime, Remy. Y' be safe, T'ief? Y' need m' t' watch over y'?"
 "Non, chere. Not right now. Got t'ree overprotective lovers already. Don' need
m'self a fourth."
 "Call m' if'n dere's trouble. Y' know I love a good fight."
 "Oui, chere. Remy'll call." They hung up without saying goodbye. They never
did.

 Gambit stared at the phone for a long time. His chin rested on his folded
hands, which were folded on the desk. His bangs fell haphazardly into his eyes.
He reached out for the receiver, then pulled back. "You're a fool boy," he
whispered. "It ain't like Crow's gonna hurt you." He sighed, then picked up the
phone and dialed before he lost his nerve.
 "What?" the voice snapped.
 "Crow?"
 "Shit. Hang on. This is private. Leave me alone for a few," he informed the
anonymous person or persons in the room with him. "Hey, punk. I'm back. How the
fuck are you?"
 "I'm doin'."
 "Heard that woman of yours stole your eyes."
 Remy winced. "She ain't my woman no more."
 "What do you mean?"
 "She dumped me, Crow. Found out I had a past and dumped me."
 "Damn. Bad news."
 Remy laughed sharply. "Non, could be worse. How's t'ings with you?"
 "Boss is in a mood, which I'm blaming you for. The captives disappeared while
we were on a mission. Flip's driving me crazy. I think the boss fucked her up
last time she got cloned."
 "Well, y' know that every copy's a lil' different. She still into
body-buildin'?"
 "Yeah. Still has nightmares too. My ribs ain't going to survive it."
 Remy felt a smile creeping onto his face. "Anythin' special I should know
about?"
 "Nope. Just wanted to make sure you were still kicking."
 "I'm still here. I'm even alive."
 "Good, punk. Makes life a little more interesting. See ya around."
 "Bye, Crow." Remy hung up. Then dialed a second number from memory.
 "Yeah, whadda want?"
 "Vic?"
 "LeBeau," the voice spat. "Why the Hell are ya callin' me, Punk?"
 Remy swallowed hard. "Need t' tell y' somet'in' b'fore I see y' next an' y'
decide y' want t' rip m' lungs out."
 "I can't help myself. Can't get used to ya without yer healin'."
 "I know." Remy spun the little top and let the light play over his hand. "Seems
that I'm screwin' Logan now."
 "What!" Victor Creed roared. "Talk fast, kid, before I come do ya just fer the
fun of it. God damned whore."
 "Vic, just hear m' out fer a second, d'accord."
 "That's all the time ya got, Brat."
 "Rogue dumped m'."
 "Good."
 "Stop that. An' left m' in a coma f' t'ree weeks."
 "Cunt."
 "Watch y'r mout', asshole. Anyway, after I woke up, Logan an' de Summerses
decided Remy should join them in bed." Remy shrugged. He tucked the phone
between his shoulder and ear and opened his drawer to find the little sketchpad
he kept there for doodling on. "So, now this boy's got himself three lovers t'
balance."
 "Yer shittin' me. It ain't even April."
 "I ain't jokin', Chat. Dat's de way it stand now."
 "So yer doin' the runt. That mean I ain't gettin' any?"
 "Mebbe. Gonna have t' see, non?"
 "Fine. Slut," Creed muttered. "I ain't surprised though."
 Remy blinked and held the phone to his ear. "Je suis, I t'ought y' just said it
ain't surprisin'. I sure as Hell was surprised."
 Creed couldn't help it, he laughed. "Yer not that bright, are ya, kid? Logan's
lusted after ya fer years. It's yer scent."
 "M' scent."
 "Yep."
 "I don't t'ink I want t' know."
 "No, ya don't. Summers and Grey, that's more surprisin', but they're doin' the
runt. I didn't think Xavier's golden child had it in him."
 Remy snorted. "That man's got more of a fucked up home life than m'."
 "That's sayin' a lot. Considerin' the old man wants ya to scurry on home to his
lab."
 "Sh. Don't say t'ings like that. Y' give m' hives or somet'in'. Any good words
out?"
 "Fer yer style? Nope. Ain't heard about anyone needin' a thief. At least not
one that ain't ready to go in guns blazin' and drop a coupla charges here and
there."
 "Too bad. Gettin' bored, me."
 "What too much sex?"
 "Not enough action."
 "I'm near enough to drop by."
 "Merde. Non, that's the last t'ing I need right now. Essex already been by.
Crow talked t' Logan." Remy gave into the call of his bed and dragged the phone
over to it. "I'm just in the right mood t' call Raven, y' know?"
 "Yeah, kid. Careful though, yer girl's her daughter. She's gonna blame ya fer
the break-up."
 "Mais. Probably m' own fault anyway, non?"
 "Probably. Ya never told her 'bout the doc did ya?"
 "Non. Didn' never trust her dat much. She's Raven's daughter, even though she
try not t' be."
 "Yep. I'll talk to ya soon, punk. Watch fer my claws, boy."
 "Right, Chatton. Remy's too fast fer y'."
 Creed hung up the phone. Remy debated for a long moment, then dialed one last
number.
 "Hello?"
 "Raven?"
 "LeBeau?"
 "Oui."

 Scott shook his head at his lovers where they were arguing over wallpaper
samples. "And here I thought you were smart enough to wait until *after* the
dining room and kitchen were done to move down to the boathouse."
 "I am. That don't mean I ain't gonna help make some choices. Leave it to Red
here and we're gonna hate all of it. Plannin' to make Gumbo take the kitchen
questions."
 "Have fun. I'll be in my office."

 Gambit looked up from the computer screen where Kitty's mock-ups were
displayed. "Bonjour, Scotty."
 "Hey, Gumbo. So what do you think?"
 "I think we've got a good start. We need pros though."
 Scott nodded. "I spoke with Warren the other day, and he gave me a list of some
of the agencies that he thought would be willing to take this account. He also
gave me the name of a research company."
 Remy nodded. Scott leaned against the side of the chair.
 "And Bobby read your personnel file."
 "Hope it ain't all that interestin'."
 "No, it isn't, but my journal is. I had Kitty up my encryption, but there's no
knowing how much he knows about you know."
 "Merde. Guess I'll have t' talk wit' the boy."
 "That would be a good idea."
 "Y' have any objections t' Bobby learnin' a few t'ings the ole man might not
like?"
 "Will it keep him from getting killed?"
 "Non, but it'll make it easier t' hide assets from the bloodsucking vampires
callin' themselves de IRS."
 Scott laughed. "Sure, why not. It could come in handy."
 "Sooner dan y' t'ink, cher." Remy tipped his head back and looked up at Scott.
Cyclops frowned at him.
 "What have you heard?"
 "All sorts of t'ings. I talked t' Raven t'day."
 "Mystique? She e-mailed you?"
 "Non, I called her."
 Scott's jaw dropped. "You called her? On the phone? Why didn't I ever think of
that? And can I have her number?" His smile was downright evil.
 "Non. Y' prank her, she gonna t'ink it's moi. I ain't gonna be y'r cover."
 "Damn." Scott sighed deeply. "Guess I'll just have to go through your address
book and get it myself."

 //Jean, I want to talk to you about Gambit.//
 //No, Professor, I won't tell you anything about our training.//
 //Jean, this is important. I have a responsibility to protect all of the
students within these walls.//
 //He doesn't trust you. He has his reasons. That will have to suffice.//
 //Have you considered what will happen when Rogue returns?//
 //Yes, I will tell her to go fuck herself, if she can find something strong
enough to do it.//
 //Jean!//
 //You have *no* idea, Professor. You have no idea what she did to him.//
 //Then tell me what she did.//
 //She tore out his heart, shredded his self-worth, and started a series of
fractures in his shielding that could have sent him into a coma or insanity if
he hadn't become aware of them.//
 Xavier went cold. He hadn't even noticed that the thief had been losing his
grip on his shields. //Tell me more about that.//
 //I can't tell you more without breaking his confidence. And I won't do that.//
 //Is Gambit's metal stability still threatened?// Xavier asked after a pause.
 //No, he's stable for the moment and we'll deal with the problem.//
 //Does he have *any* training at all?//
 //Yes, he has more than a basic amount of training. He could keep out any of
the telepaths I know and it isn't merely a matter of his internal biokinetics.//
 //Jean, I know his shields are formidable. I understand your sudden urge to
protect him, however, I want to make sure that your judgement isn't being
impaired by your emotional attachments.//
 //No more than my assessment of Scott or Logan's mental state it. No more than
my "attachments" to Hank, Warren, and Bobby affect my performance,// Jean
responded sharply. //You just want to get into his head because you can't. You
two are far too alike. You want to get into his head. He wants to get into Fort
Knox.//
 //Jean!//
 //Night, Professor.// She ended sweetly.

 //Scott, honey, come to bed. Bring Remy.//
 //We're in the middle of something here, sweetheart. We'll be out in a few.//
 //What are you doing?// she asked suspiciously.
 //None of your business.//
 //You're plotting again aren't you?//
 //Would I do that?//
 //In a heartbeat. I'll see you soon.//
 Scott's eyes focused on the screen again. "Ready?"
 "Yes."
 "Pause is off. Do y'r worst, cher."

 "Logan, where have you been hiding?"
 "Just been walkin' the perimeter. Had a funny feeling."
 "And?"
 "I could swear I smelled Mystique."
 "But you didn't see her and the sensors didn't pick her up."
 "Nope. But that don't mean anythin'." Scott kicked at the door. Logan opened it
for him. "Thanks, Cyke. Fergot to bring this along."
 "Don't thank me. Thank the pushy brat."
 "Thanks, kiddo."
"Bien." Remy dropped the bags he was carrying just inside the door. "What the
Hell y' put in dese t'ings, Logan?"
 "My things."
 Remy rolled his eyes. "Duh."
 "My books."
 "What are you worrying about, Jean?"
 "Logan thinks he smelled Mystique."
 "Where?" Remy snapped.
 "By sensor 45."
 "Merde. Logan, get t' dat box, now. An' don' let no one near it. Jeannie, scan
de area. Scott, where's m' cell?"
 "Left pocket of your coat."
 "How'd it get there?"
 "That's where I put it after looking at the addresses you have stored in it."
 "That ain't her number."
 "I know. But that *was* Creed's number wasn't it. And I'm betting at least one
of those other numbers will let me hack Sinister."
 "Don' please, cher. He's such a bitch when y' touch his systems from dose
numbers."
 Jean's brows rose.
 "Rav, y' bitch. Y' were here an' y' didn' come t' see m'? I'm hurt. How's po'
Remy t' share wit' y' when y' don' show up?" He hung up. "I'm goin' t' security.
Talk t' le professeur, cher?"
 "Sure, Sweets. I want an explanation."
 "As soon as we sure she ain't on de campus."

 Logan sat on the sturdy wooden chest and stretched his back. There was a knock
on the door. "Logan?" He didn't answer. It sounded like Bobby and wore his
hideous after-shave, but you never could tell. "Logan?" It was a little louder
now.
 "Come in, icicle." Logan settled into a lotus position.
 "Hey, Wolvie. Can I talk to you?"
 "Sure, kid. What's up?"
 "I was thinking about well, everything and I just. . ."
 "Spit it out, Drake," Logan growled.
 "Well, I was wondering if you'd start teaching me stuff."
 "Like?"
 "Oh, Japanese. Fighting. That sort of thing."
 Logan's frown softened. "Sure, kid. Tomorrow, if yer game."
 "Cool. Thanks, Logan."
 "Go on. Drag Hank outta the lab. Ain't it time fer his junk food break?"
 "Yeah. Sorry to disturb your meditation."
 "It's okay. I can always get back to it. Night, kid."
 "Night. Oh, when you see Gambit, can you tell him I want to talk to him?"
 "Why?"
 "That's personal."
 "Sure, I'll tell him." Logan shook his head as Iceman left.

 "What's so damned important about a chest that Mystique would be coming after
it?"
 "I don't know. Gambit hasn't said." Scott shrugged. He was leaning against the
window, watching the lawn. "And for all I know you're Mystique, so, we're just
going to stay here until the situation resolves itself."
 The professor frowned. //I am not Mystique, Scott.//
 //I know, sir. But she's outside the window. She's looking surprisingly like
Rogue. I think she missed a news flash or two.//
 //It could be Rogue.//
 //Bullshit, sir. Rogue would bust in, and throw her weight around. It's Raven.
She's sneaking in because she doesn't want to tip Gambit off. But she's assuming
he's at the boathouse right now.//
 //And you would know this how?//
 //Remy called her today. She's on the move. Can you tag her?//
 //No, she's got a psi-shield on.//
 //Damn. Okay. The old fashioned way then. Contact Logan and give him a warning
that we've got incoming. Tell Jean to contact Remy and tell him she's pulling
Rogue's face out.//

 "Gotcha!" Remy muttered at the screen. He scowled. "You're a bitch, Raven.
Always were."
 "Talking to yourself is a bad habit, Gambit."
 "Ange."
 "What's up?"
 "Mystique's here."
 "Really? Looks like Rogue to me."
 "Then why ain't she flyin'? Or walkin' in the front door?"
 "Maybe she doesn't want anyone to know she's here."
 "Bullshit. Even at that she know better'n t' set off the security on that
window."
 Angel raised a brow. "Oh?"
 "Oui. She helped install it. Needed a couple mo' feet t' get t' it. And where
y' t'ink y' goin', chere?" he purred at the picture. "Naughty, naughty. Gonna
get y'self hurt, 'tite." Angel's eyes narrowed.
 "Gambit," he said in a low tone. "Gambit, what are you thinking?"
 "T'inkin' she needs a lesson in scarin'. She been t'reatenin' m' since I met
her. Time t' repay the favor."
 Warren grabbed Gambit's arm before he could leave. The Cajun glared at him with
gleaming red eyes. "X-men don't kill. And don't think I've forgiven you yet,
Marauder. You fuck up just once and I'll come down on you no matter *what* Scott
says."
 "I be waitin', homme. Remove your hand immediately." Surprised, Angel did as he
was told. Gambit left. Angel looked at the screen. Mystique was climbing up the
side of the building. It was Mystique, no question. Rogue would have just flown
up to the second floor window, or the roof. Why was the terrorist here?

 Mystique smirked as she let herself into Gambit's bedroom. She grinned at the
characteristically neat room. She looked at the picture that was face down on
the dresser. It would seem he was fighting with Rogue again. Considering that he
was bedding the Summers trio now, that wasn't as unexpected as one might think.
She shook her head. She stopped short when she saw him in the doorway. "Sugah,
Ah. . ."
 "Cut the bullshit, Rav."
 "Fine," Mystique snorted. "You always were a brat. I think you've gotten worse
with age. Shouldn't you be snuggled under the covers with your new toys?"
 "Chere, y' wound me. Would I be that stupid?" He slid towards her with the
feline grace that she'd always liked in him. "I shoulda known that y'd show up
t'night. I did call y' after all." He traced the line of her jaw. "Never t'ought
y'd stoop this low though. Y' never taken her face b'fore, chere. Y' a cruel
one, Rav."
 Mystique blinked innocently as Gambit's fingers worked their way back into her
hair. She didn't even realize he was getting closer before his lips brushed
against hers.
 "Y' look like shit, Rav. I like y' better in y'r own skin. I don' want t' see
Rogue here. Ever," he purred at her. She morphed back into her own form.
 "Better?"
 "Oui, chere. Much better." His hand traced down her side, resting on the belt
of her dress. "Much better." He kissed her, drawing her close to press a leg
between her thighs. She licked her lips as he released her.
 "You are a bad boy, LeBeau. I should have you up on charges."
 "Y' don't dare, chere. I've got evidence on y' too. Not t' mention breakin' and
enterin'." He wrapped his arms around her waist. She settled her arms around his
neck and toyed with his ponytail. "Now, y' just go on an' leave an' we pretend I
ain't seen y' in a long time. Y' go find y'r daughter and ask her why she's a
hypocritical bitch."
 "She dumped you?" Mystique's eyes widened. "Well, well, I didn't think she had
it in her."
 "We been on and off so many times that I need a referee t' tell m' when I can
touch her hand or not."
 "Why did she break up with you this time?"
 "Because she knows."
 "Knows what?"
 "M' past, chere. About *him.*"
 Mystique clucked. "Foolish little girl. I'll go talk some sense into her."
 "Don' bother, chere. Y' just add fuel t' the fire," he said. Acid dripped from
his words. "She don' like the dark in m'. She don' like the dark in herself
neither. She don' understand. She left m' in a coma Raven. I don' t'ink gettin'
back wit' her be de best idea."
 "She walked away?"
 "Oui."
 "I taught her better than that. She should have at least finished you off."
 He laughed softly into her ear.
 "Goodbye, Cajun. Watch your tail. And get a better lock for your window." She
pulled back a bit, then leaned forward to kiss him deeply. She winked. "Someone
had to teach Victor how to kiss after all." He laughed and let her leave. He
felt Jean's presence against his shields.
 //She's leavin', chere. Someone best follow her out.//
 //Logan's following her. Scott's guarding Logan's room. You owe us an
explanation.//
 //Tomorrow, chere?// A bit of the rawness of his emotions crept into his
thoughts and Jean softened.
 //Tomorrow. Get your things and come back to the boathouse.//
 Gambit turned Rogue's picture down once more and looked around the room. He
sighed and rubbed his temples. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Sorry."
 "Didn' hear y'. Ain't y' supposed t' be in Logan's room?"
 "Jean sent me the all clear. You okay?"
 "Non."
 "Didn't think so." Scott closed the door. "Need to talk?"
 "Non."
 "Need some help packing?"
 "Y' ain't gonna keep m', cher. Y' gonna figure it out soon enough. I ain't
exactly the kind y' want in y'r house."
 "I haven't kicked you out of the mansion. I'm not going to kick you out of the
boathouse. I'm not going to let you run away either."
 "Scott, leave m' be."
 "No."
 "Why not?"
 "Because I care about you. Is that allowed?" Remy folded his arms over his
chest and leaned against the dresser.
 "Why? Why now? I don' understand. Y' ain't given a damn since I got here. An'
now I'm jus' supposed t' accept that y' want m'."
 "I always cared, Gambit. Always. Damn it, LeBeau, I kept a thief in my house
and on my team against everyone else's first impressions. I did that because I
saw what they *can't* see."
 "Y' don' understand m', homme."
 "Not for lack of trying," Scott snapped back. "Gambit, I'm probably the only
other person besides Storm here who could understand you."
 "Summers the fuckin' perfect." Remy's hands fisted.
 "I'm far from perfect. This isn't a competition, Remy."
 "Ain't it always?"
 "No, it isn't." Scott stepped closer. "Do you want to hit me?"
 "Non. Just got too much goin' on inside m' head. I need t' breath, cher. I need
t' t'ink."
 "If I let you think are you going to go brood on the roof?"
 "Probably."
 Scott nodded. Then, he stepped even closer. It was a challenge. Gambit
straightened. Cyclops hemmed him in with his arms. "Don't do this to yourself,
Cajun."
 "What, t'ink? Hate t' break it t' y', cher, but that's what I tend t' do."
 "And what does it usually get you?"
 Remy brought his hands up to Scott's shoulders. He shook his head.
 "What does it get you?"
 "Don' know. Jus' leave m' alone."
 "No."
 "Scott."
 "No, Remy. I'm not leaving you alone."
 Gambit glared at the older man for a long moment. Then, he seemed to wilt. He
laid his forehead on Scott's shoulder. His arms slid around Scott's throat.
Cyclops arms came up around the younger man.
 "I'm not leaving." He rocked gently, almost unconsciously.
 "I loved her."
 "I know."
 "It hurts so bad. Even wit'. . ."
 "I know. Let go, Sweets. It's okay to cry."
 "Non."
 "Someday I'll figure out why beauty and brains don't seem to fit together."
 "Was dat a slam, cher?"
 "Yep."
 "Connard."
 "Don't talk about my family like that." Remy snickered. "Better?"
 "Oui."
 "Then, I'll help you with your things."
 "I jus' don' want t'. . ." Remy sighed. "I don' want t' give up m' space."
 "You don't have to. I've still got a room here. Granted, it's with Jean, but
it's still here. I'm not Logan. I don't expect things to change overnight."
 Remy snorted.
 "Okay, I don't expect everything to happen overnight."

 "Ya been cryin', Darlin'." Logan frowned at Gambit. Scott shook his head in a
warning which Logan ignored.
 "Leave it, Logan," Remy said softly. Logan's eyes narrowed, but he let the
topic drop.
 "About that damned chest, boy."
 "What about it?"
 "Gonna tell me anythin'?"
 "It's got information on it. Very important information. Dat's all I'm sayin'
t'night."
 //Problems?// Jean asked her husband.
 //Averted the crisis for the moment.//
 She stepped forward and took Remy's hand. "Tomorrow you'll tell us everything
about it."
 "Most of it, chere. What Remy's allowed t'."
 "That will have to do for the moment," Scott stated calmly. He ran his hand up
the thief's spine until it rested gently on the back of his neck. He glared at
Logan. Gambit leaned his head back into the caress. Logan raised a brow. Cyke
was protecting the kid from him; that was a switch.

 Remy shrugged the bag off of his shoulder and onto the floor next to the
dresser. He carefully put his watch onto the top of it. He heard Jean in the
bathroom, doing whatever the fuck women did in there. Belle had tried to explain
it to him once, but it was still a mystery. He was struck suddenly by a thought.
"Cyke, what d' they do in there?"
 "No way, Cajun. I am *not* going there. I refuse to eavesdrop on that
particular set of activities. I'm certain it would scar my psyche."
 "Merde. Guess I'll never know."
 "Unless you're braver than I am."
 "Non, cher. I'd know by now, oui?"
 Logan snorted. "Yer lookin' rough, kid. Ya need t' talk?"
 "Non."
 "Yer sure?"
 "Oui. Just want t' sleep f' a long time. Gonna catch a smoke." He left the
room. Logan looked over at Scott.
 "What's up?"
 "He's getting stuck in his head. It's what happens to semi-normal people around
here." Scott sighed and pulled his shoes on. He followed the younger man out to
the dock. He sat down next to him. "Give."
 Remy rolled his eyes and lit a second cigarette for his field leader.
"Jeannie's gonna know."
 "She always knows, but as long as I try to hide it she doesn't care. Of course,
you're going to get the quitting lectures now. I've already been through it."
 "Merci, cher. Y' know just how t' cheer m' up."
 "Watch that, you're going to burn through the pier. Then, we'll both be cold
and wet and I'll be in the mood to schedule some more four a.m. sessions."
Remy pulled in a lung-full of smoke. "Here's a t'ought. If I'm screwin' y', don'
I get t' dictate some? Just 'cause I'm the new one at least?" Remy batted his
lashes and looked up through his bangs.
 Scott nearly choked on the cigarette. "Stop it. You aren't going to sway me
with the aren't-I-a-cute-little-thief look."
 Remy stuck out his lower lip in a mock pout, then winked. "Didn' t'ink so. Jean
ain't a mornin' person neither an' y' torture her."
 "So, what's going on in that skull of yours?"
 "Ask y'r wife."
 "I don't work that way."
 "Not a whole lot I'm willin' t' talk about, cher."
 "Then just give me a taste of it."
 "What happens when y'all get tired of m'?"
 "Somehow, I don't see that ever happening."
 "Got issues, me. Been tol' that by every femme I've ever called a friend. Even
Mystique."
 "You call her a friend?"
 "Not an enemy. She was nearly m' mot'er-in-law, cher." Remy grinned. "Best t'
stay on her good side, non?"
 Scott snickered. "Damn. I have *got* to find your address book."
 "Good luck, cher."
 "Can I convince you to come to bed?"
 "Ain't in the mood."
 "To sleep rather? There's an early practice tomorrow. Wouldn't look good if I
was late, now would it?"
 "Just t'ink of the gossip then."
 "Just think of the duty rosters."
 "Cyke, y' just one laugh after another."
 With a little more cajoling and a lot more nicotine, Scott finally got Remy to
bed, curled up with his head on Jean's stomach. "Jus' listenin' t' de bebe," he
muttered softly at Jean's question. "Y' take good care of dem." Then, he was
asleep.

FINIS