The Gambit's Kin
Note from Jinxeh: Hey, people! You may have noticed the lack of updating going on for this story, and both Toxic-Beetle and I apologize profusely for it. The thing is, this chapter was supposed to be written by Toxic-Beetle, but she has been having some severe computer issues lately, and so we figured that I'd just write it, as long as my writer's block is leaving me alone. Let's all wish Toxic some luck with her computer issues! Enjoy the chapter, guys!
Chapter 11: Lessons in Life
"I don't get it," said Tammi, a grim frown pasted on her face as she allowed for her fingers to drift slowly across the rigid plastic sheets that were on front of her, on the kitchen table. "Dey just little bumps…how Tammi supposed tah tell what dey mean?"
Jean Grey, who was sitting next to her at the table, looked about as confused as she did. In her hand she held a flat piece of plastic and was looking at all of the patterns on it with an unsure expression upon her young face. The patterns were all made of small dots, and underneath them were what they meant—but Tammi was having more than just a little trouble understanding them when all she could do was feel the actual raised bumps with her fingers.
"Ah…well…actually, I'm not really sure," said Jean after a moment, looking at Tammi. "Maybe we should start with numbers first, and then work our way up to words and letters…"
"Brail sucks," Tammi mumbled, letting her hand drop to her lap and allowing for her head to fall with a thump atop the plastic sheets on the table. "I want my eyesight back…"
Jean had nothing to say to this, instead settling for a sympathetic smile in Tammi's direction, which the girl could not even see anyways.
It was the night after the rather disastrous family reunion that had taken place between Julianne, Remy, and Tammi LeBeau at the Xavier Institute. Currently, Remy was in a training session with some of the other, older trainees excluding Jean Grey, and so she had decided to start working with Tammi on the brail that Professor Xavier had suggested. But, despite what Jean might have been hoping, it was much more difficult for the young Cajun girl to grasp than could have been expected.
"Well…we'll try more tomorrow, okay?" asked Jean with a slight sigh as Tammi raised her head and shook it sadly. Jean gathered up the sheets and put them back into the tan-colored packet that they had come in. "It'll be all right, Tammi—we'll figure it out."
"Tammi filled wit' joy at the prospect," the younger girl muttered under her breath, getting out of the chair and walking over towards the counter, one hand stretched out as she counted under her breath. "One…two…t'ree…four…five…"
Jean had noticed that whenever the girl walked anywhere, she had been counting under her breath. Of course, Kurt had, at first, suggested that it was some sort of obsessive-compulsive tendency but Jean had been able to realize that she was counting her steps so she could better memorize the layout of the Xavier Institute. She could walk around the school with a hand on her brother's shoulder for only so long, after all.
"Hey, Tammi…" said Jean as she set the packet on the kitchen table and stood up. "If you don't mind me asking this…have you been blind since birth?"
It was a mystery to most at the Institute, about what exactly had happened to Remy LeBeau's kid sister to cause her blindness. It was well known that Professor Xavier knew the reasoning behind this, as well as the other teachers, Remy, and even Rogue (as well as Tammi, of course), but the other students didn't know. Those who did were hesitant to talk about it, aware that it wasn't their story to tell. No one dared to ask Remy anymore; his face had always taken on a rather dark expression when it was brought up. No one had yet to go up to Tammi and ask either.
Jean was not asking this rather personal question simple for the sake of being nosy. No, she really wanted to know what had happened to the girl because she wanted to know what the past of Tammi LeBeau might have been like, so she could get a better understanding of the girl was really like. She had just spent the last hour or so trying to help introduce the girl to brail; she figured she might as well ask the question that everyone had been wanting to.
"Non," answered Tammi, her counting immediately ceased when she had reached the counter. She then raised her hand and trailed it across the cupboards there, counting three doors until she found the one that had the food in it. When she opened it, it took her a moment to get her hand upon a small jar of unopened jelly. "Dis' peanut butter?"
"No, that's the jelly," said Jean, though she stayed by the table. "The peanut butter is right next to where you found the jelly."
The girl promptly made the switch and then closed the door. Jean watched in slight interest as she counted two steps to the microwave, and then pulled the bread bag from atop the microwave. The drawer that held the silverware was right in front of her, so by opening it and feeling around carefully (in case there were sharp kitchen knives inside as well) she managed to find a blunt butter knife and extract it before she shut the drawer again.
"Then…if you don't mind me asking and everything…how did it happen?" she asked, biting her lip slightly in case she was delving into a subject that Tammi didn't want to get into. Jean could, if she wanted to, simply go around those who knew about how the girl had lost her eyesight and use her psychic powers to find out that way—but she wasn't that sort of person. She was actually more willing to ask and not receive an answer than she was willing to go sneaking around in other people's minds in order to find out.
Jean still remembered the expression on Tammi's face when her sunglasses had first been knocked off, allowing for everyone to see her blank, white eyes. The girl had been absolutely horrified about it, which was easily seen. Enough to run away from everyone, anyways. It was obvious that she hadn't wanted anyone to know, at least not then, that she was blind…so perhaps it was a rather sore subject for her, or at least a personal one.
Surprisingly, Tammi simply shrugged as she opened the jar of peanut butter and dipped the knife into it before she spread the substance onto the bread slices she had laid out on the countertop.
"Tammi was twelve, new wit' de mutant power t'ing…and made a mistake," she said nonchalantly as she dipped the knife into the jar once more. "Assassins attacked de house, an' I had to use my powers—held onto somet'ing too long, an' so it go boom in Tammi's hand."
"Assassins?" Jean echoed, unsure if she had heard this correctly. "Someone sent…assassins after you?"
"Assassins Guild," Tammi corrected her as she put peanut butter on the other slice. She couldn't stand peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches, preferring just the peanut butter in the bread instead. She would have preferred a cheese-and-mustard sandwich, but she really didn't feel like moving her hands around the cold interior of the refrigerator in order to find the ingredients. "Enemies of the T'ieves Guild."
This made everything suddenly click in Jean's mind. She had always known that Remy LeBeau had been a thieving sort of person (and for all she knew, he probably still was) and so the words 'Thieves Guild' made sense to her. However, now she had to wonder how bad the supposed rift between the Guilds was…especially if these assassins had been willing to attack a twelve-year-old child.
"'Ello, ladies," said Remy LeBeau, that familiar grin on his face as he sauntered into the kitchen at that time, his hands in the pocket of his long trench coat.
"Hello Remy," said Jean as he neared the table, before she suddenly shoved the tan packet of brail into his hands. "I have to help the new recruits with the next training session—why don't you try some of this?"
By the time she had finished asking this she was already out of the kitchen door and out of sight, only her voice ringing back towards the kitchen. Remy simply blinked in amusement and then shrugged, tossing the packet onto the table from over his shoulder haphazardly.
"You get any a' dat brail stuff?" he asked interestedly, suddenly running forward and then hopping up so that he landed in a sitting position on the counter, his legs dangling over the side.
"Non," answered Tammi tiredly. "Not really, anyways. But dat Jean girl say dat it can't be dat hard and dat she gonna help me in any way she can. 'Er enthusiasm is actually kinda frightening…"
Remy made no comment to this. He wasn't sure what he could have said to it, all in all. He knew that Tammi had never really gotten the enthusiasm and support that she had needed at a young age when it came to her studies and education. Briefly stated, their drive for education had been extremely…lax, if anything. Remy had learned how to read of his own accord, sneaking into his father's study when he had been young and trying to read all of the rather boring books he had on the shelves.
Some of the books had been interesting, however. He had immersed himself in the workings of Dickens and had gotten through many Mark Twain books by the time he was eleven. When he had found the Tolkien books he had read them all in a matter of only a couple of weeks, whenever he could sneak in the study. When Tammi had expressed interest in reading as well, he had taught her. Unfortunately, she had not been able to pick it up as easily as he, though she did eventually learn, and so her interest in reading had never really been very great.
Either way, their education had never been something that their father had been concerned about, and Remy couldn't remember their mother ever being too concerned about it either when she had been around. He supposed that after so many years of such leniency, they had become used to not having to work at such things.
"So…" said Tammi after a moment of silence, turning around with a peanut butter sandwich and looking in the direction she assumed that her brother was. "You hear anyt'ing else from mother-dearest?"
"Non," Remy answered darkly. "An' Remy hope he never does. Dat woman bad news, Tammi. You'd better hope dat she don't bother wit' us anymore."
Truthfully, he knew this would never happen. He knew that their mother was never going to leave them be, since she had gone through all of the trouble of tracking them down at the Xavier Institute.
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"Here's what's going to happen, Miss. LeBeau," said Mr. Kirsch tiredly, barely even sparing a glance at the distressed woman that was sitting across from him as they sat at a table in the lobby of a hotel. Staying in Bayville was utterly disgusting for Kirsch and he knew it—but he needed to be close to the school in order to ensure the death of the girl that had killed his son. The hotel had to do for such a short notice. "I've gotten the fake papers drawn up, and you are going to use them to get that girl of yours back from your son."
"Now, legally there is nothing that your son can do to stop you now that it appears you have the proper documentation," Kirsch continued. Across from him, Mrs. LeBeau was shaking slightly; her hands shook erratically as she sipped from the mug of tea he had ordered to be brought to her. Her hair was in disarray; her eyes were sunken into her skull, and she seemed more pale than usual. Obviously the nature of what she knew she was about to do was taking a toll on her.
It wasn't that Julianne LeBeau was a cruel woman. It wasn't as though she felt nothing for her daughter, and was willing to give her up just because she didn't care. Now, she thought that she was worse than Medea from the Greek story, who killed her children because she hated their father more than she loved her children. It was similar in a way—she valued her own life above that of her children.
When each of her two children had been born, she had known without a doubt that she loved them. But still, when she had finally had enough of her life with the Thieve's Guild, she had not taken them with her. She had become sick of her life—and her children had been a part of her life, so therefore they could not come with her. Besides that, it would have been too risky to take them, as they would have slowed her down and made her chances of actual escape decrease. They had their life, and she had just wanted to live her own.
But that did not mean that she did not have her problems with what she was about to do. She still loved Tammi—perhaps not as much as she loved herself, but the love was still there somewhere—and didn't want to hurt her…but what choice did she have when given the current situation?
"We still have to worry about what might happen if things take a turn for the worse—or if your son decides to use force to stop us from taking your daughter," said Kirsch, leaning back in his seat and sighing slightly. "He's a powerful mutant, we know, and if he really wants his sister to stay with him then he'll fight for her. He obviously cares deeply for her, since he risked rescuing her from the burning building that was her home. He won't be willing to let her go easily. That is why we're going to give you some help," he added with a wicked grin, looking over his shoulder to the man that stood at his right.
He was a mammoth of a man, dressed in a dark suit and with his almost black hair swept back and tied in a ponytail. He fiercely resembled a Neanderthal, with the way his eyebrows jutted out and the way his lips were pursed, in accordance with the defined square shape of his jaw. Just looking at him caused Mrs. LeBeau to shudder; he glowered down at her and cracked his knuckles.
"It's amazing what a police uniform can do to a man," said Kirsch, raising an eyebrow as his grin grew. "He'll simply be your police escort, there to make sure that the law is enforced."
Mrs. LeBeau simply gulped and nodded in response, not daring to take her eyes away from the colossal man that was soon going to be her 'police escort'.
"If your son makes trouble, Tommy here will stop him," said Kirsch cheekily.
"But…but de man dat runs de school…" Mrs. LeBeau tried feebly. "He can read minds, can't he? Isn't he dat psychic professor that everyone was always talkin' about? He'll be able to tell what's going on…"
"Which is exactly why we're waiting until he won't be at the school," said Kirsch, this time sounding a little tired. "Our sources tell us that he and the redheaded young woman that also has those psychic powers attend the monthly Bayville school board meetings—since so many of the young ones at this Institute attend the school, they like to know what's going on. Apparently the next one is tomorrow night—impeccable timing, really…"
"S-so…tomorrow night…a-all right…" Mrs. LeBeau whispered, her eyes brimming with tears, which she tried to hide by finally looking away from Tommy and looking down at her lap instead.
"I'm glad we understand each other, Mrs. LeBeau," said Kirsch, smiling as he got up from his seat and brushed some imaginary dust off of his spotless suit. "Tommy will meet you here tomorrow night—and he will have the papers."