A/N: This is the first fix I've actually published. Its basically just one huge character study with action and adventure thrown in. Feel free to review, no matter what you thought of it. Striker came to the mansion, but it didn't work. I'm going on from there. Thanks!

CHAPTER ONE:

"That had better not be what I think it is, Felix." Illyria jogged down the stairs towards the garage at Xavier's mansion a little faster and Felix upped his pace to match hers. He could smell the engine grease too. They burst through the door and into a scene he just knew was going to cause trouble.

The mutant who had been introduced to them as "Rogue, just Rogue" was cross-legged on the ground looking at a disassembled version of Illyria's Ducati. Her favourite Ducati. Felix swore. Gathered around Rogue was a crowd of teen students, watching avidly. Remy LeBeau entered behind Felix too, sucking in a breath at the sight.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Illyria's voice was remarkably calm, Felix noted, but her eyes were blazing blue enough to match the cobalt, azure, cerulean and Brandeis in her hair. Rogue looked up innocently. Oh Mary, mother of God, help us. Felix prayed.

"Someone in the mansion got a new motorcycle. Cool, huh?" Remy uttered a desperate 'merde' before Illyria spoke again, her voice still eerily calm.

"No, they didn't." Rogue was looking worried now, finally picking up on the badness of this situation. "That's my motorcycle. My Du-fucking-cati!" Then, the shit hit the fan.

Illyria darted forward and wrapped one gloved hand around Rogue's throat, hauling her to her feet and slamming her into the garage wall. It wasn't the gasps and screams from the students that got Felix moving, it was the crackling royal blue dagger that was forming in his partner's left hand. If the psychic weapon got stuck into Rogue's head, she'd be completely scrambled, if not dead.

"Snowflake, put her down." He prayed the telepath would do what he asked, for once. He was facing Illyria full on, so it was out of the corner of his eye that he saw tears stream down Rogue's face. He'd already smelled them though. Illyria's hold on her throat tightened, her toes no longer even brushing the floor. "Blue, just put the kid down, I'll buy you another one, just put her down." Dammit, he wasn't going to beg. "Please, Illyria." Or maybe he was. Rich blue eyes, glowing with power, met his black, Native American ones.

Then it was over. Illyria dropped Rogue so fast, the young mutant collapsed to her knees. The 'brain scrambler' was reabsorbed and Rogue was dragged to 'safety' by her friends.

"How long did it take you to do this?" Illyria asked.

"A-all the time y-you were in the meeting, I guess a-about four hours?" She stuttered. "Oh, Gawd, Ahm so sorry, ah didn't-" Illyria just cut her off with a wave, the shut the fuck up or I'll kill you all over again went unsaid.

Felix could smell the fear pouring off the kids. It was rich, all engulfing, and sweet, like treacle. For a minute he just let himself enjoy it. It was one of those smells he could taste. He was used to fear, but usually it was gross, dirty, drug addicted fools who sweated terror near him. This, this was different. He was glad London wasn't there: that was escalation in and of itself – oh, wait, Illyria was talking.

"Get Caroline to cancel my appointment." He nodded and pulled out a communicator. When it snapped open, a computerised voice greeted him as warmly as it could.

"Good evening, Mr. Graison, what can I do for you?" Caroline was the Artificial Intelligence software that kept their lives organised. She was a program that was built into The Pit years ago and the resident technopath genius, Sherrylin-Bliss, had been building up on it ever since.

"Caroline, sweetheart, I need you to cancel Illyria's ten o'clock, we ran into some… road issues." He looked at the bike. "Reschedule for tomorrow, please?" The damn computer didn't even hesitate.

"I'll do that now, Mr. Graison." Small pause. "Will yourself and Ms. Payne be back for an evening meal, sir?" He sighed. Fuck, he just wanted to get home.

"Make it a late one, tell the others not to wait up." He closed the comm. And caught sight of its clock by accident. It was already half past nine. In the PM. He'd been up for thirty two hours. Dammit. He pulled a band of his wrist and gathered up his, thick, straight, black hair. Tying it easily at the nape of his neck, he looked back at the kids. "You wanna see some mechanic skills? Check this." He and Illyria put their shapeshifter speed into putting her baby back together. They were done two hours later.

Driving a motorcycle didn't offer much opportunity for conversation, but plenty of time for thought. Felix rode on the back, contemplating the day's meeting with Professor Xavier and his wonderful, righteous, hard working X-men. He told himself for the thousandth time not to mock them.

….

Felix and Illyria had arrived at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters a good two hours early. From outside the wall, they checked on security cams, exits, windows, entrances, fire escapes etc, etc. All S.O.P. They came up with as good an exit plan as they could without the blue prints, and placed bets on what the X-men wanted.

At exactly 4:00 pm they knocked on the huge front door. A woman with red hair, green eyes and a friendly smile opened up for them. She directed Illyria to the garage and then welcomed them both to the Xavier Institute (was it a 'school', or an 'institute', he asked himself). Drinks were offered and declined, for the moment.

The accepting and un-judging façade she had going was ruined a little when he felt her probing at the walls around his mind. Not so lily white then, he thought. He saw the moment she realised he knew what she was doing. Her cheeks flushed red and she looked away. It was kinda cute actually, so he gave her a winning smile. Illyria did not such thing. That was why he was the one who did the PR, and she did the clean up.

"Professor Xavier will see you in his office, right this way." She led them through the ground floor of a mansion that was nearly as grand as The Pit. The Professor's office was nice: windows, bright, airy – still not as nice as Victor's. Maybe mercenaries just made more money than Professors.

The man who put "X" in "X-men" was actually kinda impressive. As the face (not the leader) of an international anything-for-cash company, Felix wasn't easily impressed, but Xavier's quiet dignity couldn't be ignored. Felix appreciated impressive. The middle-aged man wheeled himself around the desk and shook both their hands.

"I'm The Reverend," Felix stated, "and this is Vicious." Illyria just waved a little - not much of a people person. They were both introduced to Strom, Cyclops, Wolverine, Jean, and a bunch of younger mutants (who were then dismissed). Xavier wheeled behind his desk and Felix took the opportunity to greet his old friend. He shook Remy's hand and they embraced.

"How you been, mon ami?"

"Good, my man, good. Business is good."

"Aisling?"

"Aisling's getting so big now, you should see her, she's beautiful."

"She sixteen now?"

"Seventeen, just." The Cajun turned to Illyria.

"Smurfette, blue as ever!"

"Don't make me break that pretty face o' yours, Cajun. I'd be indicted for crimes against humanity!" She hugged Remy tight.

"Non, ma petite fluer, they would try to indict you." She cracked a smile.

"I was under the impression," The Professor began, "that I would be meeting with Cardinal and the… ahem… Undertaker?" He seemed unsure of the names, Felix tried not to snicker.

"Victor and Cardinal are on their way back from Europe as we speak. You've caught us all at a pretty bad time. Holiday rush, ya know." He winked. Remy hid a laugh. "I hope you don't mind doing business with little old me." He didn't think it necessary to mention that he ran a good chunk of the world's black market. The professor just gave him a blank, professional smile and nudged at his metal shields. Felix pretty much saw Illyria's hackles rise. She fucking hated telepaths screwing around when she herself was being good. The professor apologised. Maybe not so impressive… "What can Larmes du Soleil do for you, Professor Xavier?"

"As you may be aware, this mansion as recently infiltrated by a group of rogue paramilitary operatives working for Colonel William Striker." Felix didn't see fit to mention not only had he heard about it, but he had also known it was going to happen. "It was unsuccessful, as Logan was able to fight them off, with the help of the other X-men. No one was harmed at all. However we wanted to make sure nothing like this ever happened again." He paused. "I was going to get a security firm to help me, but Remy suggested perhaps it would be best to have the mansion secured by people with the very expertise used to get in. He said he himself did not have the skills necessary to cover every angle, but he had friends who did." He gestured at them. Felix's eyes met his partners and she opened the psychic link. I won the bet, she whispered.

Felix was surprised when Illyria spoke up before he did. She was usually content to sit back and look scary, which she did very well.

"Should Larmes du Soleil take this job, and I'm not promising we will, you need to understand that there is no security system in the world that is completely flawless." The professor nodded, but the other X-men started to look a little nervous. Evidently they hadn't considered that possibility. Idiots.

"I am aware of that," the Professor said, "but I would like to do what I can to ensure the safety of my staff and students." He looked determined, and Felix could respect that. He understood the 'protect your own' mindset, but he just wanted to reach over and pat his shiny, bald, little head and tell him not to be so naïve.

"Professor, as a mutant, I appreciate everything you do, not only for your own people, but for all mutants. The Reverend and I both agree with your views on mutant-human cooperation and so far Larmes du Soleil have turned down no less than twelve contracts on the lives of you and your X-men." Well, that made them gasp. Felix smirked, but Illyria just kept on going, she didn't give a flying fuck what they though. "Not to mention how many times we've been asked to steal the technology to replicate Cerebro. But regardless of my political views, this endeavour will cost. A lot. We're talking man hours, hardware, software, cutting edge technology."

"Money isn't an issue."

"We'll give you a discount because of Remy, maybe 10%."

"Thank you."

"Let me make a call?"

"Of course, you'll have privacy just outside the door." She stood and slipped out her cell phone. Felix held up a hand.

"Be sure you mention they'll need a Four Toys of their own." She rolled her eyes.

"London's gonna throw a fit." Felix shrugged, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Fuck him." Illyria just rolled her eyes. The boys liked to antagonise each other a little too much. All the macho shit was tedious, but healthy.

Felix hoped maybe they'd all just be quiet while she was gone. The righteous vigilante fighter thing made him nervous. In their eyes, he was a murderer, a killer, a mercenary. Well, he was a killer, a mercenary. Among other things. But whatever. It was his job. Some people were doctors, some were lawyers. He was a drug-pushing, arms-dealing, information-selling pimp. He occasionally went on jobs, but mostly he marketed.

"Tell us about these contracts, kid." Felix's brows flew all the way up. Kid? Who the fuck was this guy? Oh yeah, the Wolverine. Eh, he tried not to be offended – he was much, much older than he looked. Shapeshifter plus!

"Its bad business to share client information, Mr. Wolverine."

"I don't give a shit about your business, bub." Felix ran a hand over his eyes, and again managed to choke down on his smile. Ah, these people. All so naïve.

"Tell me, Me. Wolverine, do you believe the world is a good place?"

"What? What's that got to do with anything?"

"If I start telling everyone about everything my clients want, I'll be bleeding out in the gutter by dawn tomorrow. If you do business with us, Mr. Wolverine, you play by our rules. Secrets are power. Power is necessary for survival. I plan on surviving." The Wolverine bristled, growling, he walked towards Felix, intent on getting the information his way, but he hadn't heard Illyria come in. She just took his collar in her fist and held on. Hurray for shapeshifter strength!

The Professor must have talked Wolverine down telepathically, because he came off the warpath. Illyria let him go without a word and returned to her seat.

"We've got a green light." She announced. There were sighs of half relief half regret. These people didn't know what the fuck they wanted… The next four and a half hours were spent discussing how it would all play out.

Eventually it was decided the job would be done over the Winter Break, which would begin in a few days. All of the younger students would be returning to their families, and only the few older ones and the staff had nowhere else to go. Victor had offered to allow them to live at The Pit for the two weeks it would take to wire the mansion up. The offer had been accepted.

…

"You really think this is the right thing to do?" Logan raised a brow at the Professor. They had just heard Illyria's motorcycle leave the property. Xavier steepled his fingers on his desk and leaned forwards. He was hoping perhaps Larmes du Soleil would decide to change their ways. They would, after all, make very good X-men.

"I believe, Logan, that if risks are not taken, goals are not achieved." He saw Remy's head hip round, the thief's eyes sharpened.

"You can't fix 'em, professor." He warned. "They won't like it if you try. De two you jus' met? Dey de tame ones. You try to mess wit dem, dey scew us all up." He waved his hands to encompass all the X-men. "Victor's a great guy, da best, but he is who he is, and you can' change it. His family mean' de worl' to him. Just do y' business an' let it go." No one seemed to understand, so he just shook his head. "Remy's telling y'. Don't fuck wit' Larmes du Soleil. Dey're called dat fo' a reason." Then he walked out.