My Heart in Your Hands
by Princess of Monkeys
Chapter 7
Take the disclaimer bowling, take it bowling, take it bowling...
A/N: This chapter has a little bit from Remy's past in it, and this note goes for any chapters that have his past in them. I've read lots of fics lately, and sometimes I don't know what's canon, my own ideas, or something I'm remembering from someone else's work. So, if I borrowed something about Remy's past from someone else's fics, I'm really sorry. Let me know, and I will give full credit where it is due.
After Remy's little errand at the mall, he'd gone back to the base to pick up Pietro, and dropped him off at the Brotherhood house. He'd had to laugh at the boys' reaction to Pietro's return- he was sure the speed demon would have a great time living with the people he'd double crossed. _Sometimes I think Magneto doesn't even like his son._
As he rode back to the base, he tried to just let go and enjoy the feeling of the wind in his hair, and the freedom of the open road. He'd never much enjoyed being in cars- too enclosed. _And those metal sphere things Magneto has us flying around in are even worse!_ While Remy wasn't exactly claustrophobic, he didn't much care for closed-in spaces. The distaste stemmed from his childhood.
He'd been a few years younger than Rogue when his power had manifested. He'd botched an operation when he'd accidentally charged a doorknob, setting off countless alarms and nearly getting himself and his partner, his cousin Etienne, caught by the police. Understandably upset, the Guild Father had locked him in a small, dark room while trying to decide what to do with him. Remy, being young, bored, and lacking in common sense, had decided to try and bust out, using his newly discovered powers. Unfortunately, since ha also lacked control, he'd nearly blown himself up in the process.
Pushing aside the memories of his past, he sighed and rode into the darkened garage at the back of the converted warehouse that served as their headquarters. He parked his bike and went to go report to Magneto, knowing that their leader didn't like to be kept waiting.
He knocked on the steel door to Magneto's office, and waited for it to fully swing open before stepping inside. As he settled himself into one of the metal chairs and heard the door close behind him, he wondered _I understand the obsession with metal, but would a cushion really be too much to ask for?_ He kept the thought to himself, though- his boss was singularly lacking in the sense-of-humor department.
Remy gave his report to Magneto, who sat behind his desk in an Armani suit, hands steepled before him, studying the young thief intently. When Remy finished describing the Brotherhood's reactions to their new leader, Magneto, looking thoughtful, dismissed him.
After Gambit had gone, Magneto contemplated his next move. Even if the Brotherhood had been successful in their rescue attempt, he would have still sent Pietro back to them. He had no intention of integrating them with his Acolytes- their loyalties were still too questionable, especially Avalanche's little display of defiance. No, it was still too dangerous to include them in his larger plans. Right now, the Brotherhood was useful for only one thing- distracting the X-Men and keeping Xavier from guessing his real plans. All of which would come to naught if he couldn't catch that meddlesome daughter of his!
As Remy left Magneto's office, he reflected _It's a good thing I'm not working for a telepath._ If Magneto had any idea of his plans for tomorrow night... well, he would not be pleased, to say the least.
As he passed the common room, he looked in on the mayhem and rolled his eyes. Piotr was in his metal form, sitting on the couch, drawing in a slightly singed sketchbook. Apparently St. John had gotten ahold of a lighter from somewhere, which explained the scorch marks on the walls. Currently Victor had him backed into a corner, holding his lighter like a talisman, looking frightened. A chunk of Victor's hair had been burned off, and he looked less than pleased.
Remy called "Now, now, boys, play nice." Victor turned and roared at him, which allowed St. John a chance to make his escape. Shooting Remy a slightly crazed but thankful grin, the Australian disappeared down the hallway. Victor turned to follow, but Piotr's voice stopped him.
"Let him go, Viktor. Zhere is nothingk for him to burn in zhat direction. Magneto will take care of it."
With an incoherent snarl, Victor stalked up the hall to his own room and slammed the door. Piotr went back to sketching, allowing the metal to recede, and Remy wandered on towards his won room, shaking his head. Sometimes he felt like he was trapped in the middle of the stupid MTV reality show Pietro had liked to watch. _What happens when you put a megalomaniac, an animalistic psychopath, a criminally insane pyromaniac, a blackmailed Russian strongman, and a thief all together in one house? I'll tell you what happens- sheer hell, that's what._
He walked into his room and flopped down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Morning couldn't come soon enough to suit him.
by Princess of Monkeys
Chapter 7
Take the disclaimer bowling, take it bowling, take it bowling...
A/N: This chapter has a little bit from Remy's past in it, and this note goes for any chapters that have his past in them. I've read lots of fics lately, and sometimes I don't know what's canon, my own ideas, or something I'm remembering from someone else's work. So, if I borrowed something about Remy's past from someone else's fics, I'm really sorry. Let me know, and I will give full credit where it is due.
After Remy's little errand at the mall, he'd gone back to the base to pick up Pietro, and dropped him off at the Brotherhood house. He'd had to laugh at the boys' reaction to Pietro's return- he was sure the speed demon would have a great time living with the people he'd double crossed. _Sometimes I think Magneto doesn't even like his son._
As he rode back to the base, he tried to just let go and enjoy the feeling of the wind in his hair, and the freedom of the open road. He'd never much enjoyed being in cars- too enclosed. _And those metal sphere things Magneto has us flying around in are even worse!_ While Remy wasn't exactly claustrophobic, he didn't much care for closed-in spaces. The distaste stemmed from his childhood.
He'd been a few years younger than Rogue when his power had manifested. He'd botched an operation when he'd accidentally charged a doorknob, setting off countless alarms and nearly getting himself and his partner, his cousin Etienne, caught by the police. Understandably upset, the Guild Father had locked him in a small, dark room while trying to decide what to do with him. Remy, being young, bored, and lacking in common sense, had decided to try and bust out, using his newly discovered powers. Unfortunately, since ha also lacked control, he'd nearly blown himself up in the process.
Pushing aside the memories of his past, he sighed and rode into the darkened garage at the back of the converted warehouse that served as their headquarters. He parked his bike and went to go report to Magneto, knowing that their leader didn't like to be kept waiting.
He knocked on the steel door to Magneto's office, and waited for it to fully swing open before stepping inside. As he settled himself into one of the metal chairs and heard the door close behind him, he wondered _I understand the obsession with metal, but would a cushion really be too much to ask for?_ He kept the thought to himself, though- his boss was singularly lacking in the sense-of-humor department.
Remy gave his report to Magneto, who sat behind his desk in an Armani suit, hands steepled before him, studying the young thief intently. When Remy finished describing the Brotherhood's reactions to their new leader, Magneto, looking thoughtful, dismissed him.
After Gambit had gone, Magneto contemplated his next move. Even if the Brotherhood had been successful in their rescue attempt, he would have still sent Pietro back to them. He had no intention of integrating them with his Acolytes- their loyalties were still too questionable, especially Avalanche's little display of defiance. No, it was still too dangerous to include them in his larger plans. Right now, the Brotherhood was useful for only one thing- distracting the X-Men and keeping Xavier from guessing his real plans. All of which would come to naught if he couldn't catch that meddlesome daughter of his!
As Remy left Magneto's office, he reflected _It's a good thing I'm not working for a telepath._ If Magneto had any idea of his plans for tomorrow night... well, he would not be pleased, to say the least.
As he passed the common room, he looked in on the mayhem and rolled his eyes. Piotr was in his metal form, sitting on the couch, drawing in a slightly singed sketchbook. Apparently St. John had gotten ahold of a lighter from somewhere, which explained the scorch marks on the walls. Currently Victor had him backed into a corner, holding his lighter like a talisman, looking frightened. A chunk of Victor's hair had been burned off, and he looked less than pleased.
Remy called "Now, now, boys, play nice." Victor turned and roared at him, which allowed St. John a chance to make his escape. Shooting Remy a slightly crazed but thankful grin, the Australian disappeared down the hallway. Victor turned to follow, but Piotr's voice stopped him.
"Let him go, Viktor. Zhere is nothingk for him to burn in zhat direction. Magneto will take care of it."
With an incoherent snarl, Victor stalked up the hall to his own room and slammed the door. Piotr went back to sketching, allowing the metal to recede, and Remy wandered on towards his won room, shaking his head. Sometimes he felt like he was trapped in the middle of the stupid MTV reality show Pietro had liked to watch. _What happens when you put a megalomaniac, an animalistic psychopath, a criminally insane pyromaniac, a blackmailed Russian strongman, and a thief all together in one house? I'll tell you what happens- sheer hell, that's what._
He walked into his room and flopped down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Morning couldn't come soon enough to suit him.