Title: The Ring
Rating: G
Continuance: This was when my personal fave X-Men lineup existed, the one that existed just before the AoA timeline, so quite a few of the X-Men make appearances in this one, including a rather disgruntled Psylocke. *g*
Notes: This turned out to be a bit longer than I'd expected, so I divided it into two different parts for easier reading. :)
Disclaimer: I'm not making any money off this, though I wish I was, so Marvel...guys, don't sue me. I'm broke anyway.
******
Scott Summers looked over at his wife, smiling to himself. She lay sprawled out on the bed, her body askew in a way completely contrasting her normally graceful presence. Fiery red hair fell into her face, causing her eyelids to flutter. Scott sighed quietly, wondering how he had gotten so lucky.
He loved her so very much, had since the first time he had seen her. That had been the point of no return for him, when he had realized that there was no turning back, for he was inexorably bound to her. Though he could try to tell her in words, he could never fully express how deep his feelings ran for her.
That was why he was stealing her wedding ring.
He felt a bit guilty, stealing from his unconscious paramour, but seeing that their anniversary was upcoming and he felt the need to do something special, he had decided to take her ring and have it engraved and redone with more features. And besides, all he would have to do would be to take the ring to the jewelry store, wait around an hour or two and pray Jean didn't discover it was missing, then retrieve it and give it back to her. That gave him about three hours. Three very long hours with a very skilled telepath.
Scott suddenly grew worried.
Had she been the White Queen or Psylocke, upon finding her ring was nowhere in sight and knowing her husband was behind it, she would have simply pried the information directly from his mind without a second thought. But this was Jean! She wasn't like most other telepaths, relying on her formidable talent to gain knowledge. She could be rational. She could talk.
Scott was hoping.
Walking from the boathouse, he bounced the white gold and diamond ring in his palm, frowning down at it as he did so. It was simple enough, with only a thin band and a small diamond encased on the top. Jean had insisted that it should be simple, citing her reason as being the ring wasn't important. Scott had other things in mind, and so had went against her wishes by making the ring a bit fancier, more up to the standards of a woman like Jean Grey-Summers.
Scott walked into the mansion's kitchen, not at all surprised to find Betsy and Gambit arguing over what would be made for breakfast. Every morning was like that. If it wasn't them, Bobby and Jean were fighting. Scott's brow creased slightly as he remembered the time Jubilee had thrown an egg right at Bobby's head when she had been trying to get his attention. That had started a full-blown war between the two, three when Beast had attempted to play peacekeeper and eventually joined himself. It had always caused quite a mess.
"Gambit, as ... interesting as your idea of breakfast may be, I'm sure they'd rather have pancakes."
"But dey have pancakes every day! Dese people need t'live a little," Remy protested with all the might of a pouting child. Betsy stared at him.
"You don't think battling intergalactic beings and psychotic, power-hungry mutants and mutant-hating humans is enough living?"
"I didn't mean dat, I just meant-"
"Don't you think these people would like something more stable?"
"Well, yeah, but-"
"Good. Pancakes it is."
"You can't cook!" Remy threw out his last comment, wincing as Betsy whirled on her heel, an as-yet unused spoon in her right hand, which Remy noticed with a bit of aprehension was glowing with a faint pink aura.
"I can cook just as well as anyone else, Gambit. And I can certainly cook better than you!"
Remy fell back a step, hand over his heart. "You wound me, chere."
"I will, if you don't leave me alone!" Betsy threatened, waving the spoon in the air. Remy nodded slowly and backed away, slumping down into a chair and gesturing for Scott to join him. The X-Men leader did so and stared at the disheartened Cajun.
"What exactly were you wanting to cook?"
"Somethin' besides pancakes for once, but Ms. Braddock didn't see fit for dat," Remy replied sullenly, arms folded stubbornly across his chest. "It's not my fault if my artistic views are different from hers. She didn't have to get snippy wit' me."
Betsy turned, the aura around her hand glowing a bit brighter. Remy smiled innocently at her, then looked back to Scott.
"So. What've ya got dere?" He asked with a pointed look to Scott's loosely closed palm. Scott followed the younger man's gaze, then shrugged, opening his hand to reveal the small ring.
"Jean's wedding ring. I'm taking it to the jeweler to have it detailed."
Remy nodded to himself, then scratched at his eyebrow. "All in secret, eh?" Scott nodded. "An' you're hopin' t'hide from a telepath how…?"
"Well, see, I haven't quite figured that part out yet."
"'Course not," Remy mused with a smirk, ducking back down into his seat slightly when Betsy turned her piercing gaze back to him.
"Just like you to start butting in where you're not wanted."
"Aw, cool off, 'Lisabeth. You got what ya wanted. You wanted t'make boring ol' pancakes, now leave me alone."
Betsy gave a satisfactory smile then turned back to the stove. Remy made a distinctly rude gesture behind her back, instincts telling him to dodge the pepper shaker he knew the woman would throw at him. It connected with the wall behind him instead of his head, and he directed his attention to the X-Men leader across from him.
"I'd love t'stay an' chat, Cyke, but Betsy's apparently decided for me dat I ain' goin' to. Adieu." He rose to his feet and then bowed grandly for a still-angered Psylocke. The knife formed in her fist again, and Remy held his hands up in defense and backed out of the kitchen. Scott's brow narrowed. With any luck, those two would kill each other and present Jean with more pressing matters to deal with other than her missing wedding ring.
Scott stood outside the jewelry shop, nervously cracking his knuckles. He had a sudden, sinking feeling that Jean would be angry at him for stealing her ring and having it altered without her permission. Shaking his head, he took a firm step inside the building. He was not her lapdog. He could do what he wished.
Unfortunately for him, he was nowhere near as confident as his mind was telling him to be.
The store was small and quiet, polished cases showing off shining diamonds and gold. Two men stood in the back, one watching a small television and the other flipping through an old copy of News Week with a bored expression on his face.
Scott cleared his throat. "Um… Excuse me, but I was wondering if I could have a ring changed?"
Startled at the interruption and excited at the idea of having a customer, the man watching TV jumped up and walked around the counter to join Scott. "Hi! Thanks for stopping in. Changed how?"
"Detailed. It's for my wife."
"Sure, we can do that," the man nodded eagerly, pulling out a pair of thin glasses from his coat pocket. "Let's have a look at it."
Scott reached to his back pocket where he had placed the small band, then panicked when it wasn't there. Maybe the other pocket? No, not there either. Jacket? No. Nowhere in sight. Scott began to sweat.
"Er… Um…" He stumbled for an explanation, patting himself everywhere in desperate hopes of finding the ring, expecting it to magically appear from thin air. When it didn't, he looked up with anxious eyes to the man before him. "You know, I guess it'd help if I found the ring, wouldn't it?" The jeweler, suspecting a trick, nodded slowly. Scott sighed and apologized for the interruption, then walked back to the car to begin a new search.
When the cushions had been torn apart and the glove compartment nearly stripped, he began to grow angry. Who had he been talking to before he left? A thief. A thief that, more than likely, could pickpocket someone blind while carrying on a discussion about African politics.
Scott got back into the jeep and moved with barely legal speed back to the mansion. When he walked into the main doors, he could see the procession of hungry mutants going into the kitchen. Gambit was not among them. Scott took the stairs two at a time and walked with quick, long strides down the men's dorm, finding Remy's room at the end of the hallway. The door was closed, and the faint strains of an old blues CD played.
"Where's the ring?"
Scott rudely announced himself when he popped his head through the now-open door, trying to search out Remy. He found the younger man sitting on his bed, a magazine spread out before him.
"Um…Pardon?"
"The ring. Jean's ring! The one I was showing you earlier!" Scott was growing more frantic by the moment, partly because of the dumbfounded look on the Cajun's face. Remy stared at Scott, blinked, and looked back to the magazine.
"Dunno, Cyke. If you're implyin' somethin' about me…"
"I don't have time for these games, Gambit. Now where's the ring?"
"You tell me. You de one who had it last, y'know."
Scott was tempted to lift his visor and blast the infuriating man through the wall, but he kept a tight lock on his anger, letting it simmer into something hopefully a little less deadly. Sympathy was good. "Remy, I really need that ring. You don't understand. Jean's going to kill me if she doesn't get it back."
"As bad as I'd hate t'upset de femme, I can't help ya, Scotty. I don't got a clue where de ring is." Remy looked up, red and black eyes glittering mischievously. "Maybe dat's what you get for stealin' it in de first place, neh?"
Scott didn't reply, as the sympathy changed back into anger. He spun on his heel and stalked from the room, wracking his brain for any possible idea of where the ring could be. None would come. So he stood in the middle of the hallway, scratching his head helplessly, other hand resting on his hip.
