CHAPTER 4

"Oh, I see a man at the back
As a matter of fact his eyes are red as the sun
And the girl in the corner let no one ignore her
'Cause she thinks she's the passionate one"

-Ballroom Blitz by the Sweet

Part 1

Even though the bullet took fractions of a second to find its target, to Remy, it was an eternity as time slowed. If you were to ask him years later what crossed his mind in that blink of an eye, he would tell you "Not a damn t'ing. No life flashing 'fore my eyes, no last words. Not'ing." What he wouldn't tell you is that in that slight second, he was too baffled to realize that it truly could've been the end.

Behind Remy, Talbot the armed guard lay sprawled on the floor.

Ororo ran to Remy, jumping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist, him still too stunned to react. "Let's get out of here." She whispered.

Every fiber in Remy's being told him to take the opportunity to escape on his own; she was more than capable of fending for herself. He did not need the trouble she could bring. Excited voices carried down the corridor and a hail of bullets hit the wall opposite the door. Remy tackled Ororo to the ground waiting for the barrage to subside as plaster dust filled the air.

"Remy…" she said sternly as his hand was on her breast.

"My apologies, ma cherie." He grinned, jumping off of her, pulling her to her feet. "Go get de window in dat room open, I'll hold 'em off!" He grabbed a handful of playing cards and charged them. Tossing the projectiles into the hallway created a satisfying explosion. As smoke filtered in, he ran over to the body of the host and opened the wooden case still clutched in the dead man's hands. "Pardon moi, Monsieur…" Inside lay his prize- the Emperess Josephine Tiara (1). The gunmen were already recovering from his assault, giving him scant seconds to grab the trophy and escape with Ororo.

She was poised over the window sill pulling her shoes off and stuffing them in to her bag. "Y' gonna get tetanus goin' barefoot." He jabbed, eyes still staring steadily at the shadows casting on the door.

"Better to risk that than a sprained ankle in these heels." She disappeared out the window and he followed just as a bullet sailed into the wall before him.

They raced down the fire escape, sparks flying from the gunfire, Ororo opting to leap over the edge from the three story plunge and landing less than graceful from the weak wind she summoned. She ignored her twisted ankle and raced for the driver's side of the white BMW 760i.

Remy cleared his throat behind her. "What are y' doin'?"

"I'm driving." She demanded, as if it were obvious. If he couldn't aim a gun, there was no way he was going to be able to drive effectively.

"Not wit'out de keys y' ain't."

She went to reach in her cleavage to grab the procured keys and Remy dangled them. "I'm on t' you. Felt y' get em after jumped on me. If y' were payin' any attention y' woulda realized I wasn't just coppin' a feel afterwards. Get in de car. Y' ridin' shotgun." He ordered.

Fire flashed in her eyes but she complied. No sooner had Ororo fastened her seat belt, Remy shifted into reverse and tore through the parking lot backwards and out into the street. He clicked the car into first gear with the techtronic shifter and they took off, 3 black sedans in pursuit.

Casually, he took his eyes off the road and reached over to turn on the CD player, swerving hard to avoid a car in an intersection as a steady drum beat poured through the speakers. "Are you ready Steve? Uh Huh. Andy? Yeah. Mick? Ok. Alrigh,t fellas Let's goooooooo!"

"Shouldn't you concentrate?" She asked, incredulous. It would almost be comical if it weren't for the death squad pursuing them.

"I can't unless I got a rhythm to go by." He grinned and turned up the radio. "Well, it's been getting so hard… Livin' with the things you do to me, ah ha." He sang, grinning at Ororo, again dodging a car out from nowhere as he tapped the steering wheel to the beat of the song. "My dreams are getting so strange, I'd like to tell you everything I see."

Ororo watched as the tachometer climbed, 30… 50… until they were going 70 miles an hour through the city. Remy wove through cars deftly, giving and easing on the accelerator as necessary and avoiding oncoming traffic, although causing several wrecks in his wake as he used his car as his private karaoke studio.

I am going to die in here. Ororo thought to herself angrily as she checked the clip in her gun, pulled her seatbelt off and slid back the moon roof.

"Ballroom blitz! Ballroom Blitz! Ballroom Bli- What ya doin' now?"

"Getting fresh air." She climbed through the moon roof, white hair whipping around her in the cool night wind. A bullet sailed past her head and she forced herself to remain calm, steadying her hand to aim for the car hot on their heels.

Sparks flew off the front bumper of the sedan from her first shots, shooting out the tire of car in a high speed chase proved to be more difficult than she imagined. The 5th bullet found its mark, causing the pursuing car to skid sideways, temporarily hampering the pursuit of the other two and causing her to grin with satisfaction.

The satisfaction was short lived as Remy jerked to the side again to avoid a taxi and she stumbled, falling back into the car and into his lap.

"Now is not de time, Stormy…" he nearly shoved her away and she pulled herself up to her previous position, quite indifferent, "As if there would ever BE a time. Give me your gun, I'm empty."

Remy glanced around trying to locate where the gun disappeared. "I t'ink it slid under de seat!" He kinetically charged the empty gun and handed it back to Ororo who went to fire with it before she realized it was glowing. "Goddess!" she instinctively hurled it behind them. Just as the black sedan ran over it, the gun exploded under the gas tank, the car erupting in flames and flipping on to the third pursuing vehicle.

Stunned, Ororo calmly slid down to her seat and refastened her seat belt, "Are you still singing!" she asked as Remy's voice matched the shrillness of the man's on the stereo.

"Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah," he head-banged with the song as the shrill wail of police sirens cut through the air. He glanced in his rearview mirror, "Merde, dere's de cops. Do ya t'ink I can convince 'em I didn't know I couldn't go 70 in de city?"

"Remy!"

"Hold on t' something." He said calmly as he slammed the brakes before gunning through the turn, swinging wide and sliding sideways through the intersection and onto another one way street, forcing the police cars to come to full stop, some fully missing the intersection, as the thieves sped out of the city, free and clear.

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10 Minutes later

"That was too easy…" Ororo repeated for the third time, staring out the rear window.

"I agree, but my poppa used t' always say 'don't question what de good lord gives ya.'"

Ororo clicked the music off and rubbed her temples, feeling sick again, "They are going to have Highway Patrol after us."

Remy just flashed a devilish grin, one she was getting accustomed to seeing. "Perhaps, but… dey'll be lookin' fo' a White BMW wit' an Ontario license plate." He reached under the steering column and pushed a button. Instantly, the car's exterior paint darkened to black and she heard a quiet whirring.

"Been waitin' fo cars around us t' disappear t' do dat. Dis car's naturally black, but de paint on it responds to an electrical pulse, makin' it white when I disengage it. And, license plate has been replaced t' say West Virgina. What ya t'ink about dat!"

"I think… I am going to throw up." She clamored to roll the window down.

"Mon dieu, woman! Watch de leather!" The car screeched to a stop and Ororo stumbled out to vomit on the side of the freeway. Remy held her hair back, trying not to look at the mess lest he make himself sick and wary that the police just might still be nearby. The wail of a siren cut through him like a knife as the headlights of a highway patrol car blinded him. At least he still had his contacts in but God was seriously humoring himself this week at Remy's expense.

Remy straightened up to allow the officer full view of what was going on as he exited his vehicle. A black man, towering above Remy's 6'1", hair shaved short hidden under the brim of the uniform hat, broad shouldered and a hard glint in his brown eyes. His voice was a deep, rich baritone. "Excuse me, sir, ma'am What seems to be the problem? It is illegal to stop on the freeway and you have a tail light out."

Remy cleared his throat, answering with a bit more of a southern twang, hiding traces of his New Orleans accent, "Sorry, I didn't know…"

The officer stepped forward to get a good look at Ororo, no doubt checking for signs of abuse and narcotic or alcohol use. She looked a wreck, her white hair disheveled and dark rings of smudged makeup under her eyes and clearly wearing a party dress. "Sir, has you wife been drinking?"

"I beg your pardon, but I can answer for myself." Ororo became indignant, despite the weakness in her voice. "It is just morning sickness… however, it seems to be arriving early. I am exhausted, we have a long drive ahead of us and sometimes the little one doesn't do so well in the car, Mr…" she asked with slight mirth in her voice and placing a hand on her stomach.

"Sergeant, ma'am. Sergeant Bishop. Sir, I need to see your license and registration."

She just pulls those lies out one after another… Remy thought as he rummaged through the glove compartment to pull out the West Virginia registration. Not that he was one for revealing the truth.

"Where are you two headed tonight, Mr. Lord?" Officer Bishop asked as he scanned over the documents Remy provided with his flashlight.

"Back home, to West Virginia, sir." Remy gestured to the license plate with a nod of his head as he offered an arm to Ororo for support and praying her powers would not go out of control at this moment. Mon Dieu, please, if dere is any ounce of mercy in y', let dis Cajun boy walk away from dis…

"What happened to your face, son?" he asked, noticing the cut on Remy's face and lip.

Remy brought his hand up to his face, suddenly remembering the pistol whipping from Tessa. "Oh, at dinner, I have this uncle that doesn't know enough is enough, if you know what I mean… he and my brother got into it and I pulled 'em apart, but not before takin' some damage."

"Were the police called?"

"No, sir. Didn't see the need to with it bein' family and all. Harold's a pain, but no one would want to press charges against him."

Sgt. Bishop pulled a note pad from his front pocket and began scribbling on it, remaining humorless. "I am writing you a work order, to make sure you get that tail light fixed. It is not a ticket, but if that light is not fixed within 2 weeks, it becomes one." He ripped it off and handed it to Remy, along with his registration and ID, still eyeing him suspiciously. "I understand this stop was unavoidable but you would do well to wait until a rest area to pull over, for you and your wife's safety. Good night." He tipped the brim of his hat to Ororo and returned to his car.

Both thieves watched as the Sergeant merged back onto the freeway and Remy nearly collapsed. "I certainly could've done wit'out dat. Y' a cop magnet." He began removing his contacts, his appreciation for them fading fast.

"I just love vomiting on the side of the Colorado freeway. It's how I pick up those handsome men in uniform." She said as she climbed into the car and fastened her belt, egging on his irritation. "Watch the leather, huh?"

"Dames in distress..." He muttered shutting her door and rounding the car to the driver's side of the BMW but not before grimacing at the shattered tail light. His second favorite baby… who happened to be the most expensive one for repairs too. C'est la Vie.

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Part 2

After several more minutes of silence on the freeway, Ororo decided to address the 'elephant in the room' so to speak. "So, Le Diable Blanc… when were you going to tell me?"

"Look, Ororo, Wild Iris, whatever de hell you want to go by, I am not in de mood to get lectured on secrets here considerin' everyt'ing y' kept from me. Y' de one dat led me on. I had no obligation t' tell y' who I was or what I do. Y' fell into my lap. Not de other way around. Hell, have y' told me de truth at all dis whole time?" He paused pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and searching for his lighter, his hands shaking in anger.

He was annoyed with his anger which translated to resentment towards her, the source of his annoyance. No one had frustrated him this much in a long time. Not Creed. Not even Raven and her goddamned gum, he thought with venom. Why did she have to be Wild Iris? Besides being a death sentence, she had a contract on her head as well. And since Remy was harboring her, the contract most likely stretched to include him now.

He heard the flick of a lighter and the darkness in the car was replaced with an orange glow as Ororo held the flame of his gold zippo lighter below the cigarette for him. He lit up and she closed it and returned it to his breast pocket. "You left it on the card table," she stated nonchalantly, staring out the window. One would guess she never even heard his accusations.

"Merci." He said gruffly after several seconds, smoke exhaling, his anger not easing one bit. It was taking great effort to not pull over the car and order her out. There was something she had managed to do to him that made him uncomfortable… get under his skin like no one ever had, yet it would be easier if she had tried to fight him. Instead, she insisted on helping.

"You really should break that habit. Did you learn anything from John Wayne and Clark Gable? Handsome men turned into saggy leather bags before their time." She said lightheartedly, returning to the conversation of the first night they met.

"I don' exactly smoke f' my health, chère." He chuckled darkly. "Sides, we all gonna go sometime. How ain't so big a deal, it's only a matter of when."

"You are a fatalist." She mused.

He shrugged.

"Fatalism is the idea that no matter what we have done in our lives, that our paths would cross at the same point in time, no matter where or what circumstances, and nothing could prevent it or alter those events. Destiny."

"Dat's determinalism. If it were Fatalism, everyt'ing is pre-determined. From de color o' socks on my feet t' dis conversation. No matter what choice we make, it was already decided dat choice would be made."

She arched a white eyebrow, "He knows philosophy."

"I know a great deal more dan dat." In actuality, his habit was founded on the firm belief that sometimes men who had done the things he had, seen the things he'd seen and lived like him felt gratification from self destruction. Every burn in his chest from that clove cigarette was a personal penance for his sins, committed and yet to transgress. And there she went again, distracting him from the issue at hand….

"What do you know about Wild Iris?" she asked, blue eyes narrowed, smile cocked oddly as she pulled her white hair behind her ears.

Remy gave her an incredulous look.

"You cannot tell me you lack curiosity of the ridiculous things people invent about you. Humor me."

He narrowed his eyes, glancing from the road to her, red fire flashing briefly. What will she try and lie out of now? "First, I want to know how much you've lied to me so far."

"I told you. I have not lied."

"Y' didn't tell me y' were de effin' Wild Iris!"

"And it is not lying if you did not ask or it was never brought up. Besides, I have no idea what stigma is attached with that name. Why else would I be asking you?"

"Y' got t' be kiddin' me…"

"I despise lies."

"Y' seem content to lie t' de officer an' everyone else on our little adventure." Remy was beginning to wonder why he hadn't left her on the side of the freeway or had her restrained in some way for his safety. Wild Iris was poison. Something he was not doubting in the least, finding himself unable to rid himself of her.

"I despise lies, but sometimes they are a necessary evil. I have not lied to you. I have not set a good example for you to trust thus far but if you will notice, any lie I have told has benefited you mostly. I have not sold you out, I have made no attempt on your life or jobs, and have placed myself at great risk repeatedly for your sake, including remaining with you. I would like to receive a little credit for that."

He tossed the used cigarette out of the window and lit up another one, this time using his mutant power to light the tip. He exhaled smoke through his nose. "So y' really from Africa, y' really killed a man, y' got some jerk implanting a microchip in you, an' some man named Shaw is after you fo' reasons unknown?"

"Yes... although the microchip theory is yours."

"Tell me what kind o' thievin' y' done. Cause a "t'ief out o' necessity" does not line up wit' half o' y' track record."

She nodded. "There was the Faberge for Shaw which was the only hired job I ever had… unless you count the 8 months I stole cars…"

"Y' stole cars?"

"It gave me an in on the American theft circuit and operations. Ferrari's, Lambo's, Aston's, BMWs like this one…"

"Ain't none like dis one."

"Of course, despite the visual modification, I can tell you do not have the standard V-12 under this hood. The car's been significantly lightened as well, judging by how you've handled it."

She ignored the look of shock he displayed and continued, "After that, I was able to afford living on my own and performing my own jobs. I traveled around a bit, stealing high profile items for thrills and money. I kept enough to live on and donated the rest to various charities."

"Robin Hood. Uh huh." He said skeptically.

"You have no idea how many underprivileged children I've put through college." She laughed. "I didn't need all that money, and neither did the original owners. I feel that those who have should give. They had the means, I had the ability and motivation, so I did my share. Besides, most things were insured so they received some retribution."

"What about de murders?"

"Murders!"

"Several o' your heists, de owners ended up dead. Most o' dem in suicides, and I use dat term loosely."

"Oh. Those."

"Oui. Those."

The hum of the freeway filled the car for several seconds.

"I can not explain things I had no part of. I know of one man over dosed and a woman jumped from a twenty-second story balcony."

"And a man cut his own throat and one man carved y' name, "Wild Iris" in his own belly before diving into a hotel pool from an 8 story window and breakin' his neck."

"And you think I murdered them! Goddess!" her eyes narrowed in disgust.

"Seems more dan coincidence, don't ya t'ink?"

"I didn't even murder that security guard back there! He was wearing body armor."

"And dat car exploding?"

She wagged a finger at him. "Don't you pin that on me. That was your handy work, Remy Lebeau. If you hadn't handed me that BOMB…"

Remy rather liked the fire in her eyes and tone but with thunder rumbling outside, he backed off. "Ok, I forgive you."

"I do not want nor need your forgiveness."

"Don't need a lot o' t'ings from me do ya? I'm sure y' could do just fine on yo' own now."

Ororo remained quiet and stared out the passenger window. "I do not want to be on my own." It wasn't that she couldn't survive on her own but in the recent days, she had realized how tired she was, worn out from carrying burdens on her own. Not that Remy was a good friend, but he was the closest she'd had to one since Africa and it wasn't often you found a fellow thief. Not big time at least. It was a relief to have someone else in the driver's seat for once, figuratively. But still…

"And what about you? It's no secret you've left quite a few dead in your wake and that you're a... a man whore."

"Man whore!" the words came out in a strangled cough.

"So the murder accusation doesn't concern you so much?"

"Neh. Never killed anyone that wasn't askin' for it- sometimes its kill dem before dey kill you… run into lots o' riff raff on the circuit. I admit, I went through a dark spell after my wife died, didn't do much work during den, so I cannot deny having a few wild nights…"

"A few? White Snake ring a bell!"

He paused in thought and he pursed his lips in a tight lipped smile. "Really? Dey call me dat still?" He erupted in full laughter as she fumed. "Stormy—"

She placed her hands on her ears. "Goddess, I don't want to know what's in your trousers…"

He grabbed her arm away, catching his breath, "No, de metal band…y' know, 'Here I go again on my own…'" he sang. "I have an affinity for 'em dat obviously, few let me live down. You thought dat was?" he glanced down. " Whoo… chère, that is classic."

"Quite."

Somewhat mortified, Ororo busied herself by retrieving the wooden box that contained the Josephine Tiara and opened it, marveling at the structure of the metal and jewels. Even in the darkness, it sparkled. For her, it was amazing to fathom someone could create something so beautiful with their own hands.

"Why Wild Iris?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"De name. Why Wild Iris?"

She inhaled deeply, resigning herself. "There is a yellow flower in Southern Africa called the Dietes Bi-color, aka Wild Iris. My father was given temporary assignment in South Africa before we headed to Egypt. There was a large patch of these outside our hotel and whenever my mother and I went out, I would pick as many as I could fit in my hands to give to her… I thought them the most beautiful flower I had seen. And when your mother is the most beautiful woman in your world, who else would you give the flowers to?

"She and my father started calling me "Wild Iris" from my affection for the flowers. She told me whenever she saw a Wild Iris on the way to the market, she thought of me." Ororo turned somber, "The nickname only lasted 2 weeks... But, as you can see, I could not let it go."

"I got my nickname cause my eyes." Remy offered.

"White Devil?"

"How much French you speak girl?"

"I bluffed my way through calling you handsome devil back there…"

"Beautiful devil." He corrected.

"Same difference. I concede, I was toying with you this morning- you didn't beg me 'Fais-moi l'amour, s'il vous plaît' - but I bloody well know it doesn't mean pass the salt."

"Crazy femme." He grumbled, not put out in the least.

"Please continue, you were telling me about your underground handle?"

"Oui. As a pup, my parents abandoned me cause my eyes, calling me a white devil. My papa, my adoptive father, was a member of a t'ieves guild. Dey gave me my moniker, turnin' it from somet'ing bad t' somet'ing good."

"Does it bother you, the reaction of people from being a mutant?" she pulled the tiara out of the case and placed it upon her head, slouching down to protect it from the ceiling and pulling the sun visor down to view herself in the mirror.

Remy ignored his instinct to tell her to be careful. She was not a child. "Not anymore. Over time, I learned dat bein' different ain't bad. People dat care bout somet'ing like dat ain't worth my time, unless they got somethin' worth stealin'."

"Agreed. How do I look? Like Miss America?" she poised her hands under her chin to frame her face and cast a seductive look.

He looked over and smiled at her, receiving one in return. She would certainly drag any Miss America contestant through the mud. "Y' look like royalty."

"I certainly feel like royalty. To think, just because of different cultural standards, I was revered as a Goddess and you a Demon. Almost poetic."

"So, dis Goddess t'ing… would dey have made me a God over dere?"

"No... But you could have been my pet."

"I ain't no one's pet." He grumbled sarcastically.

"You would wear nothing except a strategically placed fur cloth… follow me around fanning me with a palm branch and feeding me grapes. The seedless kinds though because I like my teeth how they are. Massages would be a requirement. Remy, let's do it. Let's go back to Africa…" She began to imagine the scenario in her head, actually giving the idea of a half naked Remy consideration.

"I' t'ink I'd rather stay a Demon."

"You know, Goddess and Demon still contains its own poetic connotation." She pulled the crown off her head. "Did you want to try it on before I put it away?"

"Now dat you mention it… no, not really."

"Just checking. I didn't want you spreading word on the thief circuit that Ororo Munroe did not share."

"I wouldn't say you don't share so much as you're expensive as hell. Your taste in clothes and your taste in drinks."

She placed the tiara in its case and sealed the lid, resting it on the back seat and giving Remy a full view of her rear end in the rearview mirror. "You know you like it."

He shook his head because in fact, no matter which she was referring to, she was not wrong.

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Part 3

While Remy chatted on the payphone outside the car, Ororo stretched her legs, regretting having to put on the high heels once more, and although having spent half her life barefoot, she had no desire to brave a public restroom without shoes.

She and Remy had been on the road 4 hours and she was beginning to regret that 32 oz soda she had purchased at the gas station an hour ago. She caught his attention and whispered, "I am heading for the bathroom."

"Wait a second…" he said into the phone, before covering it with his hand. "What?"

"I have to pee." She hissed through clenched teeth.

"Hold on."

Hold on? No matter what bonding they had gone through the past few hours, she did not need his supervision to use the restroom. Any more holding on and she would be dancing around the parking lot screaming. My eyeballs must be floating in my head. He was not getting off the phone.

Her reserve broke and she began to speed walk to the building. She heard the click of the phone and Remy jogged up to her side.

"Sorry bout dat. I was talkin' wit…"

"Your contact… I know… I know… Why must I wait for you! I am in agony!" Her brow furrowed in frustration, pain, and annoyance.

He followed her into the Ladies Room, locking the door behind them. "Is there something I should know about you?" Ororo berated, gesturing to the "women" sign on door.

"Just don't want you wanderin' off. And it's none too comforting t' know Shaw and Farouk are sending all dere goons our way cause ya can't fight fo' shit."

"And I almost thought you were being chivalrous." Her high heels tapped on the floor as she entered a stall and locked the door. Remy examined his cheek in the mirror. The cut wasn't too deep, but it was starting to bruise around the edges. Tessa struck him pretty good.

He leaned back on the sink basin, staring at the fading blue paint of the stalls. The women's bathroom was certainly much nicer than the men's. Definitely worth considering for future use.

His mind wandered to Traigo. He'd managed to pay the bill for Creed and Raven's destruction of the room, and retrieve their items but he'd also received disconcerting phone calls concerning the chip, Ororo, and details that only Remy had known, such as Tessa being at the poker game. He was beginning to suspect Farouk and Shaw may be one and the same, if he was capable of invading minds as Ororo claimed.

Remy glanced at his watch and placed his hands in his pockets. "Any second now would be nice, Stormy."

"Can you turn the faucet on?" Ororo asked impatiently. "I can't go with you listening."

Remy's face scrunched into a silent laugh. Women. He kicked open the stall door next to Ororo's, undid his belt and began to whistle as he peed. "How's dat, my goddess?"

She was silent except for the accompanying sound of a stream of water. He heard the toilet flush and she peeked over the edge of the stall, blue eyes fixed on him. "Remy…"

"Hey! WHOA! This is… VERY private in here!" He blocked her view with a free hand "Sapristi, woman!"

"I need a quarter, pet!" She demanded, amused she had startled him and discreetly trying to peer through his hand.

"I'm busy." He said irritated. There was no way he was going to stop now to buy her 'womany things'. She'd have to wait. Now where was he?

"Oh for goodness sake…" She ripped open her stall door with exaggerated annoyance and plunged her hand into his pocket, ignoring his protestations, found what she needed and got a pad out of the dispenser on the wall.

He turned his head slightly as he finally was able finish his business, "I didn't know it was dat important. Unless y' were jus' tryin' t' sneak a peek."

Hiking her skirt up, she grabbed a paper towel and wiped the blood off of the slash mark on her hip from Raven earlier. "I cannot believe you." She scolded heatedly, staring at his back in the mirror.

"What's not t' believe? It's easier t' pee wit' a femme behind a partition dan it is t' pee in front o' a bunch o' guys?" The flush of the toilet echoed in the room and he washed his hands, watching her work

"Neither- The fact that that had to be the longest pee I have ever witnessed."

"I could be mistaken n' all, but I don' t'ink dat's normal." Remy nodded to her preparing to place the pad on the inside of her dress to rest over her hip.

"Seeing as how we are lacking a first aid kit, a girl's got to be resourceful…" she paused and stared at the now clean wound. There appeared to be a metal shaving in it. "Hand me your knife."

He dried his hands and complied. "I should just give dis damn t'ing t' you by now."

"When 'room service' arrived, Raven got a good slice in when I made my escape. I think… the tip of the knife broke off…" she hissed inwards as she pried it out and held the blood covered metal up to the light to examine it but her eyes were having trouble focusing as the room began to spin.

He grabbed her wrist rather roughly and brought her hand to his eye level. Rather than having a triangular point, it was a perfect square, half a centimeter wide. "Stormy… dat ain't no knife tip."

She caught herself on the edge of the sink as her mind and body felt the force of nature return to her. Her vision of the restroom faded and was replaced with the patterns of air currents and she heard a roaring in her ears. Ororo's body tingled, like a limb that had fallen asleep and felt the first stings of blood circulating. Once again, she heard the full voice of her goddess, even in the lightest breeze blowing outside. She was whole again. It was not accompanied with illness, but rather, relief. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, before remembering she was in a restroom. "I have to get out of here…"

"Are you ok? Y' not gonna be sick again?"

"Not at all!" she hastily dressed her wound and washed her hands, elated at the change within her. "I have another favor to ask of you."

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In the darkness, Remy watched tourists scramble from their cars to the rest stop's main building, trying to escape the torrential rain that seemed to appear out of nowhere. As he sat perched upon a hard wooden table, he sipped his vending machine coffee under the safety of the picnic shelter all the while waiting for infrequent flashes of lightning to give him glimpses of the silver haired goddess orchestrating the storm.

When Ororo first requested 20 minutes to test out just how fine she was feeling, he bargained her down to 10. They had a schedule to keep and mercenaries after them, staying on the move was in their best interest. More than satisfied with that, she began to remove her heels and pull her dress over her head which he insisted she keep on. What was she thinking stripping down in a public area?

"Nudity is only a western abberation, where I come from it is nothing. I do not wish to travel in soaked clothing."

"Den don't do dis." He smirked.

A strong breeze entered the shelter and she began to fly. Seconds later, the dress came drifting down to the earth, an obvious statement that he could not and would not dictate what she did. As well as the fact that 20 minutes was passing and she was showing no signs of coming back to earth. As he watched her flit around in the sky, he half expected her to do an 80 mile an hour face plant into the grass but she was not fatiguing.

Watching her manipulate the atmosphere to pour snow and then transform that into a raging thunderstorm with a roar that could be felt in his very core, he understood why she was revered as a goddess, even without seeing the full extent of her abilities. She couldn't be mistaken for anything else, even in modern America.

At almost the half hour mark, the rain slowed to a drizzle and a heavy fog filtered in, a thickness and style reminiscent of the Worthington job. No doubt purposefully, he thought. She emerged from the fog, drenched wet head to toe and an eerie calm about her.

"Thank you for that." She half whispered, cheeks flushed slightly darker from the wind.

He nodded and removed his suit jacket, placing it over her shoulders and she wrapped it around herself tightly. "Y' dress is on de table when y' ready t' take off." He stared at her intently as he brought his drink to his lips.

"Thank you, again."

He shrugged as he swallowed more coffee. "Couldn't let Ava Gardner's dress lie slop in de mud."

"A simple 'you're welcome' would do. You do not have to be a smart ass with me all the time." She suggested as she removed the jacket to redress.

He paused slightly, staring at the shadow of her nude body. "You are welcome, Ororo."

The absence of her forbidden nickname did not go unnoticed. "I still find it difficult to believe you called me Stormy without prior knowledge of my powers."

"If y' hadn't chosen dat God-awful Tempest name, I wouldn't have. You could've said y' name was Ramsay Ames and I'd a called y' poon-tang…" (1)

Ororo was not amused, or at least doing a good job of hiding it. "You are being a smart ass again. And who is Ramsay Ames?"

"What do we do wit' dis?" he waved the chip at her, deliberately ignoring her inquiry.

"You can return it to Farouk if you wish to collect your money for my 'expenses'." She struggled extending her arms back to close the zipper on the back of the dress.

It was almost painful to watch so he gently pushed her hands away and pulled the zipper up before answering. "Non. I got no interest in anyt'ing from him. Dis t'ing… seein' what it did t' you… it's too dangerous, I don' see a reason t' keep it around."

He charged it with his mutant power, watching as it glowed briefly before disintegrating to dust in his finger tips. "Dere goes a million dollars... and nothin' t' show for it." He said flatly, almost disbelieving he'd actually disposed of the microchip. He had to be getting old; it was his only excuse anymore for what she did to him.

"Not necessarily." Ororo placed a hand gently on the back of his head, extended on to her tip toes and kissed him softly on the lips. Soft, gentle, powerful in its simplicity... and if he were not mistaken, there was a slight tingle of electricity traveling through his body so that when she pulled away, with that sparkle in her blue eyes and mischievous smile, he had to remind himself to breathe. He licked his bottom lip.

She tasted like a peach.

He watched her push her arms into the sleeves of his suit jacket, the shoulders of it hanging off of hers as it swallowed her. "What was dat for?"

"It's a million dollar kiss."

He grinned, red eyes flashing briefly. "Y' got anyt'ing else fo' sale?"

"You can not afford me." She retorted, tossing her wet hair over her shoulder and strolling off to the car.

-----------------------

The Emperess Josephine Tiara actually exists, but belongs to the New York firm of Van Cleef. The Josephine in question was Napoleon's wife.

Ramsay Ames is considered the queen of classic silver screen B-movies, where it was said from the stunt lead of one of her films, the Cisco Kid, "more stuntmen were hurt rushing to get into position to watch Ramsay Ames walk across the lot than in all the stunts Republic ever did". I like to think this version of Remy spends his lonely, late nights watching old time movies, reminiscing of the good old days with a bourbon in one hand and a remote in the other, as he's not entirely social outside what he needs to be. But the films also subtley influence him through the characterization of men back then- Bad-ass men who could drink anyone under the table, beat the snot out of jerks that insulted them or their lady, remain a flirty rebel, but is still some lady's pet at the same time.

3) Although not marked, the 'tastes like a peach' is a reference from the

movie True Romance.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Thank you all to everyone who has reviewed for me so far- it is appreciated more than you could know to have you take the time to post your opinion, and for me to receive the feedback as to what you do and do not enjoy in the story- HOORAY FOR REVEIWERS!