Remy was subjected to a battery of tests in the infirmary, which he agreed to under the condition that there be no pointy objects involved. He found himself subjected to an uncomfortably personal physical examination (Doctor McCoy advised a biopsy on a freckle on Remy's posterior), then he was scanned, x-rayed, and stuffed into an MRI machine. Doctor McCoy pronounced him in fighting form. In spite of the medical exam, Remy actually did feel pretty good. The glowy-explody problem seemed to be miraculously contained. The exam was a new experience for Remy, and one he was not willing to endure again. The worst was yet to come however, when he found himself the salami/love in a Jean Grey and Elisabeth Braddock sandwich. Normally, he'd be happy to have a pair of beautiful ladies doubling up on him, but the three-way that they had in mind involved performing a mental probe on him. He was not in love with the idea of that kind of probing.
Apparently, Betsy was bringing Jean along with, as the redhead was now telepathy-free. Remy wondered how that had happened. Whatever Xavier did to her, did it have a permanent result? Also, he had a weird feeling that Elisabeth had a tinge of ruthlessness about her that Jean would temper.
"You'll need to lower your defenses. Try to focus," Betsy told him.
"Hold a vision of something in your mind," Jean said. "A focal point to concentrate on. It should allow Betsy to enter your...white water rapids."
Remy scowled at them. "Why are we doing this again?"
Jean said: "We want to ensure you've not been...compromised."
Betsy added: "You don't want that creature running amok in your head."
SIS-ters! All Hallow's Eve has become a night of frolic! Where children wear costumes and run amok! Remy thought. Amok amok amok amok amok!
"Stop that," Betsy said.
Remy whispered: "I...can't."
"How about you enter your meditative state?" Jean suggested.
"My what now?"
"Your 'happy place,'" she said.
"Oh, right. Okay," he said and closed his eyes.
A brush rasped on a hi-hat. Fingers on a double base, thrumming out a low beat. A tickle of piano keys. A trumpet, affixed with a mute, its meandering sound threading the other three instruments together. Remy sitting at a table in a club, dim blue light, anonymous amidst an audience of faceless people. He was alone, but didn't mind. Glass of amber-hued bourbon in front of him, splash of water, and a spiral of orange peel tossed in, just because. He smiled, let the music fill his head, and listened to the band's first set.
When the quartet paused to take five, he looked up from his drink. Both Jean and Betsy were now seated at the table with him. "Hey ladies, what'll you have?" he asked.
Jean and Betsy regarded one another, then decided to humor him. "A glass of wine would be nice," Jean said. Betsy requested the same.
"White or red?" he smiled at his dates.
"How about white?" Jean smiled back. "It's a little warm in here."
"Wait'll you hear de next set," Remy said and magicked a pair of wine glasses before the two women. "Things will get really hot then. So what's de verdict? Am I possessed?"
Jean shook her head. "We looked for any anomalies," she began. "Did you know...you have some suppressed memories in a vault at the bank. Gringotts?"
The trumpet let out an alarmed blurt. "I am aware," he began, feeling nervous. "You didn't -."
Betsy stopped him: "Jean wanted to check with you that it was intentional and not something that had been imposed on you."
"No, that's on me," he said, filing away a reminder to invest what happened in the Alley in his bank vault. "Did you see de dragon? Pretty cool, n'est-ce pas?"
"Your imagination does include quite the attention to detail," Jean conceded, sipping her wine. "This is very good. Maybe we should come here more often?"
"Sorry, private club," he told her. "But that Chardonnay from dis prosciutteria just outside of Rome. Fantastico."
The trio sat, watched the quartet return from their break, listened to the next set begin. "I think I know this one," Betsy said.
"Weh. Take Five, pretty standard stuff."
Jean slid her empty glass across the table towards him. "I think after this we should probably go," Jean said. "Before anyone starts to think we've been eaten by dragons."
"But you haven't seen my red light district yet," he grinned.
"Oh, I have. And you are surprisingly more mundane than I would have thought," Betsy said and stood to depart. The trumpet made a "wah-wah-waaaah" sound. "And on that note." The violet-haired woman departed.
"I'll see you in the real world," Jean told him.
"Maybe in a bit," Remy said. "Bit of a night-owl, me."
She nodded and like Betsy, faded away into the scenery. Remy resumed his "meditation" and stayed until he'd closed down the club.
Remy blinked himself back to reality, having completely lost track of time. He was still in the infirmary, sitting half-propped up in a bed. The lights were very dim. He saw he was not alone in the room. The last bed in the infirmary was concealed with a curtain. The one nearest him held the elven man. Remy sat up, turned and put his feet to the infirmary floor. He'd been given a more comfortable pair of thermal pajama bottoms, a black tee-shirt with a worn school's logo printed on the breast. After a brief and deeply unsatisfying conversation with the patient at the far end of the room (if you could call it a conversation, things were thrown in his direction), Remy approached the elf. He recalled the man's name was Kurt; Rogue's "annoying kid brother." Kurt was on a ventilator, had tubes going into his arms (Remy avoided looking too closely at that). He saw on Kurt's side table a string of rosary beads. Remy picked them up, sat at the man's bedside. Made the Sign of the Cross, then began the Apostles' Creed. He'd made it through one Our Father, the virtues of Faith, Hope and Charity; and then Glory Be when he heard a small rustle of sound. The man's head had turned in Remy's direction, his golden eyes open.
"Am I bothering you?" Remy asked him.
Kurt shook his head slightly: No.
"Do you want me t'keep going?"
Slight nod. Yes.
"I'm sorry I blew you up," Remy whispered to him. Desperate to alleviate some of his guilt he added: "It was an accident."
Kurt patted Remy's hand lightly where it rested with the beads on his bedside. It's okay.
He finished two of the Mysteries when he was interrupted a second time. Kurt had fallen asleep. This time it was Kitty. She was carrying a tray of food in her hands and had a baby dragon on her shoulder. The creature emitted a low growl when he spied Remy.
"Shh, Lockheed," Kitty admonished him. To Remy she whispered: "Hey."
"Hey. My knight in shining armor," he whispered back. She smiled at him. "Is dat your dragon?"
Kitty shook her head. "He's no one's dragon. But he is my friend."
"Can I pet him?"
She laughed a little at this. She turned to Lockheed. "What do you think? Make peace?"
Lockheed made a noise that sounded like: Harumph!
"I'm sorry to report I lost my cloak you set fire to," he told the dragon. "I was going to save it for posterity. I'm very honored you lit my ass on fire."
Lockheed seemed to consider this, then hopped off Kitty's shoulder and onto the bed to clamber over Kurt's legs. He offered Remy his chin. Remy cautiously touched the creature's neck, silky smooth scales like a snake under his fingertips. Lockheed allowed him only a moment before giving another disgruntled chuff, then settled himself under Kurt's arm like a cat curling up.
Kitty moved to the back of the room where she deposited the tray on a table behind the privacy curtain. She returned and Remy stood from the chair, inviting her to sit. "Your friend woke up for a second there," he informed her.
Kitty looked delighted. "That's so great! I need to tell Hank! Thanks for sitting up with him."
He nodded, placed the rosary back onto the side table, made sure the crucifix was face up. "I'll see if I can find him."
"Uhm, okay...I mean. Do you know your way around?"
Remy grinned at her. "I have a general idea about de place. Where'd you think ole Bones McCoy is?"
Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor, not a...!
"Knowing him, probably the kitchen," Kitty said and sat down in the chair Remy had vacated.
"Oh good, my favorite place. Do you think anyone will mind if I raid de pantry?"
"Just don't touch Logan's jerky, and you'll be fine."
"Protective of his snacks, enh?"
"Yes, and...I'm just warning you...we don't know what kind of animal it came from."
Remy departed the infirmary, his bare feet padded silently down the corridor. He knew he'd have to find a stairwell, as he'd destroyed the elevator. The door to the stairs leading upwards was just past the elevator shaft. Remy saw there were additional steps going downward...so yet another sub-sub basement. He'd have to go explore that later. Maybe that's where they kept the jet (he'd been right about the dragon, anyway!). Remy climbed two flights of steps, pushed the door open to find himself in the back of the foyer once again. The front entry door had been covered with a plywood board. The debris from Xavier's destroyed office had been cleared. Remy wondered where Rogue was; his first inquiry when he'd found himself face-to-face with Magneto again was to ask how she was doing. Resting, was the answer he received. Wet Blanket was in a foul temper, which made Remy choose to walk in the opposite direction and away from Xavier's office. He passed through a large sitting room with lots of soft furnishings, a bookshelf of popular fiction and light reading, a table set up for games. Remy perused the shelf containing the games, and found two decks of playing cards. He pocketed them, but after a moment of consideration, replaced one deck and retained the other. No sense being greedy. He walked from the sitting room into a formal dining area. It overlooked the backyard where he and Rogue had stood saying goodbye to one another just a week ago. He recalled wanting to kiss her then, but feared he'd probably explode on the spot if he did. The dining room led to the kitchen. Remy paused at the doors to the double wide doorway. He heard voices in the kitchen. The voices were having a slightly-louder-than-civil conversation. Remy grimaced, thought to step backward and retreat. As he turned, he came face to chest with Hank McCoy. Remy stumbled backwards into the double doors. How was someone so big able to be so quiet?
"Ah, good evening, Monsieur Gambit," Hank told him. "Out for a little late-night promenade?" He sounded mildly dubious of Remy's intents and purposes.
"Uhm…" Remy began, amazingly at a loss for words. "No, just-I…"
Hank clapped him on the shoulders with his two large hands, turned Remy to face the doorway to the kitchen and marched him forward. Remy scrambled to open the sliding pocket doors before he could find himself smashed face-first into them. "I know!" Hank said loudly, interrupting the conversation occurring within the kitchen. "You must be here for a nighttime pantry raid. I myself am feeling a bit peckish. Let us survey our options, yes?"
There were four people at the far side of the room, seated at the kitchen table. They turned and regarded the newcomers, their faces all in an expression of irritation. Hank turned Remy once more to face a pair of pantry doors, hugging Remy close to his furry side to prevent any escape attempts. Hank opened the doors, flicking one then the second open with his free hand.
"Oh my stars, what on earth is this?" Hank said in a disappointed tone as he peered into the pantry. "Why, in my day, this pantry used to be brimming with Twinkies, HoHos and Little Debbie snack cakes. Look at this sorry state of affairs!" He picked up a plastic cylindrical bag of rice cakes. "This is most, most disappointing."
Remy also examined the pantry's store. While he would eat most anything, and the pantry was better stocked than the one back home, Remy had to admit the shelves were full of unappetizing "snack smarter" options.
"Magnus decided on a healthy food initiative," Ororo explained from her place at the table. She was seated beside Logan. To her left was Scott. Opposite to Ororo, Jean.
"Another poor decision on his part," Hank complained so only Remy could hear. Remy felt instantaneous camaraderie with the blue-furred man.
Remy spotted something at the back of the pantry. Two boxes of wheat crackers. They were both open, one box had a tattered appearance. Remy reached in and took up the battered box, shook it. It didn't sound like crackers. He opened the box to find an assortment of candy bars. He held the open box out to Hank.
"Splendid!" Hank remarked, rummaged in the box's contents, and selected a 3Musketeers bar.
"I mean, Halloween was just a day or so ago," Remy said, recovering for himself a Twix (he was sad the last one had exploded). "How could there not be candy?"
"Brilliant powers of deduction, my young friend," Hank said, and they toasted their good fortune with their respective candy bars. Hank steered Remy towards the kitchen table and pressed him into the seat separating Logan and Jean.
"Kitty said for me to tell you that Kurt woke up," Remy informed him.
"That is excellent news!" Hank announced. "I will follow up, post haste. Now, my fellow X-Folks, I will depart and leave you in the company of this fine young man. Please ensure he does not-get lost."
Remy was left with four pairs of eyes staring in his direction, all with various expressions of vague distrust or open curiosity. It was a familiar occurrence, except no one looked like they wanted to strangle him...yet.
Awkward… he thought. He shoved half of the candy bar into his mouth.
"So," Scott began. "Feeling...better?"
"Right as rain," Remy replied. "Thanks to your junior leaguers. Can't say I'd be alive without them."
"Right, about your attacker…" Scott said.
Remy got a sinking feeling in his gut.
"Just how do you know this - person?"
Remy slowly moved the candy bar towards his mouth a second time, stalling for time, when Logan pressed his wrist to the kitchen table.
"Answer the question," Logan said.
"Y'know what, I think I'd rather go back t'de infirmary and let St. Michael de archangel smother me in my sleep," Remy responded.
"You spoke with Warren?" Jean asked.
"Yeah, he's not too fond of me or my 'I'm sorry'," Remy informed her. "Threw a bedpan at me. Luckily, it was empty."
"A tragic accident," Ororo murmured. "I pray he will progress towards forgiveness."
"Not likely, is my thinking," Remy said. He was feeling pretty bad about the state Warren was in, more so since Remy had jumped to the conclusion that Warren was a spoiled rich pretty boy who was out to round up mutants. Remy hadn't realized that Warren Worthington III and Angel were one in the same. From what he'd seen in the social pages of the newspaper, Warren must have had his wings hidden under his well-tailored suits. Now Remy had come to find out that the team he was bankrolling and participating in was helping children, not hurting them. That'll learn me not to judge people, he thought.
"Going back to the man. Sinister…?" Scott was like a dog with a bone.
"Out t'get me," Remy said.
"Why?" Scott persisted.
"Don't know. Doesn't like takin' 'no' for an answer, I guess."
"And what was the question, bub?" Logan asked. Remy stared ahead at a place just over Ororo's shoulder, not meeting the man's icy gaze.
"He might've been my Plan A," Remy finally said. "Regarding de solution to my whole situa-ation." Here he made a loose gesture to indicate his chest.
The sun is a mass of incandescent gas... a gigantic nuclear furnace…
"What made you change your mind," Scott asked. "About Plan A?"
"Guy seemed a bit off," Remy responded. Understatement. It wasn't lost on Remy that the request Lurch had made, for Remy to round up a bunch of ask-no-questions ne'er do wells, had somehow been fulfilled within a month rather than a year. That the research Lurch wanted destroyed was not a lab or documentation, but actual people. So the next questions were, who was doing the experimentation on those people? Why did Lurch want them destroyed? And why did he want Remy to do it, when it seemed he was capable of doing it himself? Remy's knee bounced nervously. He pressed a hand to it, willing himself into stillness.
"Anybody here smoke?" he asked. "Only I am jonesing for a cigarette."
"Certainly not," Ororo said. "Although Logan partakes of the occasional cigar."
"Occasional?" Jean asked, raising her pale eyebrows at Logan. "What happened to: like a chimney? What changed? No longer trying to dull your sense of taste and smell?"
"Another one of Magnus' health initiatives. No smoking or imbibing alcohol on campus," Ororo answered. "We are to set good examples for the New Mutants."
Logan grumbled irritably.
What a Wet Blanket! Remy thought uncharitably of Magneto. No gumbo, go-go, or do-do!
Without a cigarette, and having completed his consumption of the candy bar, Remy reached into his pajama pocket and retrieved the pack of playing cards. He opened the box, ran a thumbnail over the top of the deck, then removed the cards. Under the table, he nervously began shuffling them.
Jean turned to Remy. "Do you think Sinister followed you here?"
Remy at least knew that Sinister had always intended on sending someone after his "misplaced research," that was not Remy's fault...entirely (though his mental catalog of murdering miscreants had apparently been mined without his knowledge). Then there was the comment Sabretooth had offered about relying on Remy to open the back door to the School. The thought of which made him sweat.
"You have some kind of response there, Cajun?" Logan asked.
Apparently, he'd been silent too long. "I don't know how he knows what he knows," Remy admitted. "How he knew me, how he found me, or how he got inta my head when no one else could."
"It is very fortunate then, that he is...gone," Ororo said.
"Would not normally agree wit' killing folks, but him, I'd happily dispatch a second or third time. Even if it cost me my immortal soul."
"How are we going to know you, kid?" Logan asked, not unkindly. "Your name really 'Remy'?"
"Yup."
"'Remy' what?"
"That's it, unless you want my Confirmation name. Which is 'Etienne,' or Stephen, I guess you English-speakers would say."
"No family name?" Jean asked.
"No family."
"Rogue said you had an adoptive mother," Logan pressed.
"In which case, I will make a mental note not to tell her anything in confidence in de future."
"You can't blame her for giving us some background," Scott said. "Considering you're not being very forthcoming."
"I've talked plenty."
Ororo raised her hands. "I think that is enough for this evening," she said.
"I agree wit' de Warrior Princess," Remy was quick to say. "By de way, your handing me my ass was about de most fun I've had in a long time."
Ororo pressed her full lips into a questioning smile. "As I recall, it was you who tossed me down the hallway."
"Yeah, I cheated," Remy said. "Used my powers."
"I wondered how you were able to move so quickly."
"I wasn't moving quick, you were moving slow."
"I do not understand."
"I don't really either."
Scott lowered his head, made a small sigh, and rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger. Remy thought he might be breaking the man.
Remy placed the deck above the kitchen table, cut and shuffled the deck in one hand. It made a soft "frrrrippp" noise.
"You play much?" Logan asked, gestured to the cards.
"Does Trump crap in a golden toilet?" Remy asked.
Jean put her hands over her face. She might have giggled or groaned.
"All right, deal us in," Logan said. "What's the game?"
"How 'bout Dealer's Choice? Choose your poison," he looked at Jean. "You ever do 'Big O'? Exciting. Gets ya goin'. Very satisfyin' conclusion."
"What?" Jean said, flummoxed.
Remy laughed dryly, and started dealing cards. Logan and Scott stared daggers at him. "Variation of Pot Limit Omaha. Five cards, not four."
Jean shook her head, looked at Ororo for some kind of confirmation that Remy wasn't speaking nonsense. Ororo shook her head, not understanding either.
"What're we playin' for?" Logan said and gathered his hand. Jean stood and looked in the pantry. She returned with a package of round crackers and dumped them onto the table.
"Poker chips...or in this case, poker crackers," Jean said, retaking her seat.
By the end of the evening, Remy had eaten the whole pot.
Random References:
Amok amok amok - Disney's Hocus Pocus
Gringotts - there's a lot of Potter references folks
Bones McCoy - OG Star Trek
The Sun - They Might Be Giants
Warrior Princess - Xena: Warrior Princess
Next time: Library copy fees come with a cost too high to pay.
Merci beaucoup Ron and Kris and Guest and Jas for your review and support. I write primarily to entertain myself, so your kind words are so encouraging. Makes me almost think I'm not bonkers!
I've got this story under control, and there's two more novels after that with the working titles of "Dealing with a Devil" and "Dealing in Futures." Hope you're in for the long haul.