Remy was in the formal library trying his hardest not to think about Rogue. The variety of genetics books he'd pulled from the shelves should have given him plenty to think about, but his thoughts kept straying back to her. Never had he felt such an instantaneous attraction to someone, like a lightning bolt hitting him directly in the top of the skull, blasting all coherent thought from his head. For all the sexual gymnastics he'd gotten himself into over the years, never had he done so little physically and felt so intensely aroused. She had forced him to slow down, wait for her to take the lead. It was a new kind of torture, one he was willing to submit to. Rather than be forced. Candra never gave him a choice in the matter, whereas he could stop Rogue anytime.
Not that he wanted her to stop.
She was gorgeous, of course. She was kind-hearted; he watched her put others' needs before her own. She was quick with a retort; she wasn't going to let Remy get away with anything. She spoke her mind; he never doubted a word out of her mouth. Did he mention she was the most beautiful woman in the world? Also that. A tiny worm of guilt twisted in his heart. He should not be falling for some girl, not with the woman he loved back home, the one he'd given up. He made excuses to himself for the other women he'd been with, he didn't care a whit about them. Rogue was different though, he cared what she thought...about him.
With a distracted sound, Remy flicked through the endnotes of another book. The Black Womb Project was nowhere to be found. He sighed in frustration. He would have to talk to Doc McCoy. He hoped he'd get an answer that made sense.
He was sitting on the floor in front of the shelves and realized he must have been hidden from view as he was behind a leather chair. He heard noises from the foyer; there were several repairmen fixing the nearby office, patching the ceiling. The house inhabitants had made themselves scarce with the construction crew being there, so it was a surprise when he heard voices he recognized. The quartet entered the library and closed the doors, muffling the sounds of hammering and drilling from outside.
"Warren wants to go," Scott told them. "To be transferred to a private hospital in the City."
"He can't get better care than what he'd get here," Bobby responded.
Hank explained: "He's having a hard time coming to terms...with the fact that the person who caused the explosion..is still in residence."
Remy purposely dropped a book, alerting them to his presence. He was feeling a rising swell of hot shame and didn't want to hear anymore.
The four members of X-Factor fell silent. Remy unfolded himself from his spot on the floor. "My ears are burnin'," he told them. "I'll be off."
Jean shook her head, seemingly frustrated with herself. "I'm sorry if we made you feel uncomfortable."
"I can't blame Angel for his reaction," Remy said, walking towards the quartet, a book still in his hand. "I'll make myself scarce."
Hank noticed the book in Remy's hand. "Ah, a fan?" he smiled slightly.
Remy proffered the book in his direction. "Dis is certainly better than de article...what was it called? 'Real World Applications of Mutant Classifications: A Quartet of Case Studies?'"
Hank looked somewhat embarrassed. "Not my best work," he said. "It was my first article. I was just a whippersnapper back then."
Remy grinned at him. "You're only twenty-seven now. Can't say I could've written anything coherent at de age of eighteen."
"How old are you now?" Bobby asked, almost a challenge.
"Twenty-one," Remy replied, looking Bobby over. 'Cute Boy' indeed.
"So, a visit to Harry's is in order," Hank said and put a hand on Remy's shoulder. "For a cold beer, on me."
"I may take you up on dat. I know you got to talk about your friend's care, if there's somethin' I can do. I know a spiritual healer..."
"That's kind of you," Jean said, held up her hand. "I just wonder if he'd be willing to accept the help."
Remy nodded. "I'll let you get back to your talk. But, I got a question if you got a sec, Doc," Remy reached into his back pocket. "Your article mentions dis study...I found it, but I can't find any mention of it anywhere else."
Hank took the proffered paper, the title page from the study, it had been folded into quarters. Unfolding it, Hank looked at the title. "Ah, yes. Project: Black Womb. Quite hard to come by. Professor Charles Xavier introduced me to it."
"Does de prof know who dese others are?" Remy pointed to the author's names. "Aside from his dad? Is Brian Xavier still alive?"
Hank shook his head. "No...and I'm not sure about the others. Amanda Mueller, Nathan Millbury…"
"Millbury?" Scott paused. "We have a neighbor in Anchorage with the same name, Nate Millbury."
"It must be a common name," McCoy said. "Which will only make it harder for you to find your author, Remy."
"How about dis one," Remy said and pointed to the footnote below the study's abstract. "Irene Adler?"
"Well, that is an uncommon name," Hank began. "It's the same-."
Remy felt a sudden pain in his right eye. He clapped a hand over it with a short exclamation of pain.
"Are you all right?" Scott asked.
"A headache-came on alla sudden," Remy said, blinking his eyes. His vision was blurred.
"Maybe a migraine?" Scott continued. "You should probably go lay down. It will only get worse."
Remy shook his head, then regretted it. He felt as if he would be sick. There was something pushing up against his...aura?...the flow of energy surrounding him. The doors to the library were pulled open. Magnus was on the other side.
"Oh, well dat explains dat," Remy said, his headache suddenly lessening.
"I thought I...sensed you in here," Magnus said.
Okay, so our repelling forces are a two-way street. Good to know. Remy carefully "urged" Magnus out of his personal space.
The man squinted at him, but held his ground. "Your uncle, so-called by you, has made an appearance," he said. "In the sitting room."
"He must've received his owl," Remy said.
The other five mutants stared at him blankly.
"Okay, you're right, ravens are probably his preferred mode of communique," Remy shrugged.
"Oh right!" Bobby said. "A Game of Thrones!"
"So someone reads around here!" Remy smiled at the Cute Boy.
"Enough," Magnus said. "The parlor. Now." He turned and led the way.
Remy met Scott's visored gaze for a moment. The other man shook his head and his mouth compressed into a line. The only visible sign of disapproval he would betray.
At the parlor doors, Magnus brought the others save for Hank and Remy up short. "I daresay we have no need for an audience," he told Bobby, Jean, and Scott.
"I might agree wit' de headmaster here," he said to them apologetically. "I don't really want to get a chewing out in front of y'all."
"Scream if you need anything," Scott said dryly. Remy chuckled at that.
Shepherding Remy and Hank into the parlor, Magnus used his powers to pull the pocket doors closed. It was as he'd said, Dr. Stephen Strange was standing before the picture window, silhouetted against the cool November daylight. A look of surprise crossed his otherwise austere features.
"Remy," he began. "What are you doing here?"
"Funny story, that," Remy said evasively.
Hank walked forward to take Dr. Strange's hand. "It's good to see you, my friend," the blue-furred mutant told the Sorcerer.
"What a...strange circumstance, to bring us together," Dr. Strange said.
"Strange," Remy remarked to Magnus. "Notice de use of 'strange' and 'circumstance.' Not to be confused with irony."
Magnus glared at him.
"Monsieur Gambit has been our guest...has it been a week yet?" Hank asked.
"Thereabouts," Remy concurred.
Dr. Strange shook his head. "You do not belong here," he said gravely. "It is not safe."
"'Safe,'" Magnus repeated. "For him, or for us? How do you know this...person?"
Dr. Strange considered Magnus for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest. "I've known Remy since he was...about five years old, if I remember correctly."
When he looked at Remy, Remy shrugged a shoulder. "Thereabouts."
"And what is your relationship?" Magnus asked.
"I consider him...something of a ward," Strange replied.
"Ha ha, I see what you did there," Remy smiled.
"His father and I are well-acquainted," Strange told the two other mutants. "They've frequently procured items for my Sanctum Sanctorum."
"Thieves are in your employ?" Magnus asked, disapproval apparent.
To Remy, Strange said: "Speaking of your father..."
Oh no, here comes, Remy thought.
"He is most concerned," Strange continued. "About your welfare. You should return home."
Remy shook his head obstinately. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Don't tell him where I'm at, either."
Dr. Strange briefly closed his eyes with impatience. "If you think your father is unaware of your location…"
"Enh! Well, he can come fetch me then, can't he!" Remy snapped.
"He regrets attempting to contact you earlier, when you were not in...the right frame of mind. He is waiting for you to make the first move, so to speak."
"So, the prodigal son refuses to return home to the father," Magnus mused, almost gloating about Remy's childish behavior.
Remy wished for a vengeful god to strike the man down on the spot. "Do you have your answers?" he asked Magnus waspishly. He gestured at Dr. Strange. "See, he knows me."
"Can you vouch for this man's character?" Magnus asked Strange.
Dr. Strange frowned a bit. "The man, no. The boy he was, yes. Not particularly well-behaved, but not bad. He...definitely has character."
"So half an endorsement," Magnus said. "Seems we can only obtain half of the truth about you."
"Curse-free this time, Remy?" Strange asked.
"It's not like it happens so often," Remy said, holding his arms out to his sides.
"Only five," Strange replied, a vague smile on his lips.
"Four!" Remy retorted.
Strange shook his head. "Five," he insisted.
"Well, what one am I forgetting then?" Remy asked, scratching his head.
"Possibly the Forgetfulness Curse," Strange said, smiling now.
Remy clapped his hand to his forehead. "D'oh! Ah-there goes my record!"
"You're tied with Emil," Strange added.
"No! Not dat joker! Maybe I'll send him a monkey's paw in de mail!"
Strange might have chuckled, shook his head. "Remy, go home."
"Meh," Remy said. "Make me."
A salt-and-pepper colored eyebrow raised in his direction. "Is that a challenge?"
Remy shrank back into his coat. "No, sir. Sorry, sir. Will take your request under advisement, sir."
"If that is all, gentlemen?" Strange asked of Magnus and Hank. "Doctor McCoy, please stay in touch."
"I will," McCoy smiled. "Thank you for stopping by."
"My pleasure."
Embarrassingly enough, Remy was given a warm pat on the shoulders (that might almost be misconstrued as a hug) before the Sorcerer vanished from the parlor.
To Magnus he said: "See? Tole ya so."
Next time: In this corner, our challenger, the Ragin' Cajun, Gambit!...And his opponent, the best he is at what he does, The Wolverine! Let's get ready to ruummbllllle!
Reference to Owl Post - another Harry Potter mention, y'all.