Part IV

The Guilt of The Moth

Author's Note: see below =)

The door to Cerebro opened half an hour later. Charles moved out of it and the door closed. They almost sensed his disappointment and braced for the news. Rogue immediately walked to Charles' side. "Have you found him?" she asked, wanting to hear it from Charles himself.

"I still can't find him," Charles said, his head shaking slowly. "It seems like he's in some sort of a warped field - a dodge-field in telepathic sense - much similar to the one I sensed when Melinda was kidnapped and that stranger got killed."

"Have you figured out how does du Boudreault's power work?" Rogue asked.

"Projecting images into one's head is rather usual for a telepathic, but this goes further than that. It almost clouds the mind of the person, sort of a mind control that cannot be breached from outside. Even I cannot breach into it. For that cause I still cannot locate Remy."

"You mean he even snuffed out Remy's brainwaves?"

Charles watched Jean's eyes go round with wonder and fear. "Yes. It's like Remy's a puppet. It's possible he may talk or walk or act like he's conscious, but in reality he isn't. It's Louis du Boudreault that's controlling him, and Remy doesn't even realise he's being controlled."

Jean's left hand went up to her mouth. "He's leading Remy towards a deathtrap. My goodness, he's like a moth to a flame."

Rogue bit her lower lip. After a minute's silence she said impatiently: "Well, it'll get dang worse if we don't do anything 'bout it! Why can't we go look for him?!"

"We still have no information to what extent du Boudreault's power is. That will be like charging into a maddened bull."

"Maddened bull isn't what exactly I'd describe du Boudreault," Ororo, who had been standing in silence behind Jean and Rogue, suddenly remarked. "He's more like a calm, collected psycho. I bet he's enjoying every minute of this insanity."

Rogue watched her indifferently. "Ever slept with one before?" she asked pointedly.

Ororo gave her a neutral look. "None that I would tell any of you." She then turned to Charles. "Professor, Ray Quinton and Hank have traced the stranger's identity. They think you might want to see this."

Charles nodded. "Lead the way."

Remy woke up, his eyes disclosing a path of bright light that seemed to dance before his eyes in a small arc, and for a moment he smiled. "Une, ma petite..." he whispered to himself.

A deep voice, polite if not a little cold, set his mind back to level ground. "Sir, I have to use force if you are not willing to comply to my directions..."

The image blurred out and gradually focused. A pair of massive shoulder and a head decked with a police hat came into view. As if waking from a drugged slumber, Remy immediately realised where he was - and he had no idea where he was. He quickly rolled down the mirror - after realising that he was inside a car and the person outside was a policeman - and asked him, "Monsieur, where am I?"

The policeman gave him a strange look as he turned off his flashlight, confident Remy held no threat. "New York, sir." Then noticing his funny accent he quickly added, "Lost, sir?"

Remy scratched his head and nodded. "In fact I don't quite know where I am. I was driving and suddenly felt very sleepy and voila! I'm here."

More weird looks from the policeman. "You're not under the alcohol, are you?" Remy shook his head vigorously. "I take your word for it. Now, sir, move out of this spot. You're blocking the traffic."

Remy made an effort to look behind him through the open window. "I see no cars here, monsieur." It was true; all the cars were flowing smoothly on the main road, a rarity in New York at this time of year.

"I don't mean the road; you're blocking these people who wanted to hail cabs from the hotel. You've been here since two hours ago and it got the manager kinda worried. So pull over to some other spot now." He gave Remy a look that said, 'Darn foreigners.'

Remy nodded and started the car. Then remembering something, he called out to the policeman again. "Monsieur, where's dis De Rapier hotel? I need to get dere pretty quick."

The policeman gave him a tired look and pointed to the building in front of them.

Warren scratched his blond head for the umpteenth time. "Then why did du - du-whatever - kill this man? It makes no sense at all!"

Hank and Ray stumbled upon the stranger's identity a while ago, thanks to Ray's sophisticated hacking knowledge.

His name was Carter Clemence, aged 63. He was a native of France but moved into America somewhere after World War 2 and started a small business in New York which went bankrupt in a matter of months. From there he had started another business that took him to instant riches and made him a nation-hopper. He became a conman for the last 45 years and recently he seemed to have run out of luck. There was no further information except that he's wanted for con crimes across America and UK and France. Marriage status was also unavailable.

"You think du Boudreault's some kind of an agent?" Bobby asked Charles. "After all, Clemence is - was - a wanted man. Maybe the French sent him after he swindled some high names."

"That doesn't quite tie with what you two saw the other day. Melinda talking to him." Hank thought aloud.

"Could it be he was looking for a place to hide from the authorities? The police won't check places like this, right?" Jean asked them.

Charles shook his head. "For a powerful mind, Jean, the logics seemed to have escape you. A criminal usually hides where the least chance of police came upon him, that's right. But the police psychology these days, they play it reversed. The least likely places would be their highest priority."

"Which means Clemence should have known that. Years of fugitive should have made him realise that." Hank started to walk on the ceiling, a sign of him doing a deep thinking in his head. "And yet he came here. To talk to Melinda. Why? What's so important that he denied his knowledge and came here?"

"They were lovers."

All eyes went to Ray who was still sitting in front of the computer. Slowly Ray felt the weight of their stares and went on. "Hey, that's the best explanation, right? I mean, if you took a plane across the Atlantic and landed down here only to meet a woman, what else could there be?"

Hank dropped down from the ceiling. "Where did you get this?"

"I made a check on flights from Paris to New York that was made in the last 24 hours, and I came up with two names you might be interested in." He paused for effect, and smiling, went on. "Carter Clemence and Louis du Boudreault. Same plane, same seat row, side-by-side." He gave them a big grin.

Remy was inside of the suite in The Rapier hotel. Locating the suite where Louis was staying was rather easy. Just pretend to leave a message in the receptionist's table and look carefully in which box will they place the paper.

Going in wasn't that easy. He had to wait for a while before he was sure everything was clear. Using his ability he charged the door handle and touched it. It exploded without much noise and the door opened.

Louis wasn't in the suite, and so was Melinda. Which was rather daring of him. It was already past 24 hours since Melinda had disappeared, and now the police must have classified her as kidnapped.

Remy could see nothing out of place in the suite. It was immaculate and clean, unlike a room that had a mad mutant who had taken a human for prisoner. Yet a certain sinister air hung about like a cloud covering the moon. Then he saw it.

There was a chair in the middle of the room. On it was pinned a note. Remy took it off and began reading it.

Touché, my dear Deux. But I'm sorry to say you missed you by two hours too late. Not a good trait, unpunctuality is. It's very different from the old you. By the way, you must be wondering why the hell am I taking this Melinda Farstein. Does the name Penelope Roquefort ring a bell? Oui, n'est-ce pas? Go to Rockefeller Center Skating Rink if you wanted to see Melinda again. I know you'd want to if you know what's best for you.

He stared at the note a little longer, a deep crease started to show between his brows. Cursing, he crumpled the note and charged it before throwing it out of the open window.

Jubilee looked up from the diary. There was a brief commotion downstairs. When it passed she leapt from her bed to the door. No one outside. Great.

Minutes later she was almost to the lift going underground when a blinding flash made her close her eyes . When she opened them, Ray was standing before her, grinning widely if not a bit stupidly.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Jubilee gave him a tired look. "How long have you been following me?"

"I've just walked out of this elevator and saw you snooping. You're supposed to sit tight in your room." He closed their distance; Jubilee backed a bit. "You know how easy it is for me to activate wave-shield that's not in the normal human eyesight range."

Jubilee rolled her eyes. "Yada yada yada. Now what are you gonna do, spank me and make me sit in my room like a good girl?"

Ray shook his head cheerfully. "Nope. The question is, what are you gonna do now?"

"Did they find Remy?" she asked, suddenly recalling the reason she ventured out of her room.

Ray gave her a sly look. "If I told you what will you give me in return?"

"Look Ray, I got no time to fool around. This is partly my fault, too. I hate sitting around while he's out there with a crazy man hot on his heels!"

Ray suddenly dropped his gleeful expression and he became serious. "No, Jubilee. Well, that's not entirely true. But we managed to contact Piotr who's having a small charity concert in one of those hotels - forgot which one."

Jubilee listened with increasing wonder. "But why the hell do you guys contact Piotr?! He's got nothing to do with this whole thing!!"

Ray slowly told her about the reasons Remy could not be traced. "I don't know what their plans are, but the Professor has sent Warren, Rogue and Ororo in advance to meet Piotr in New York. Logan, Hank and Scott followed them on Blackbird."

Jubilee fell into a deep thought. She slowly ran her fingertip across her lips and Ray caught himself thinking what would it feel to have his fingers on her lips instead. Quickly he shook off the thought, a notion he guessed had died along with Mona years ago.

"Ray," he heard Jubilee's voice almost pleading. "I need you to take me to where Piotr is meeting them"

Ray almost nodded if not for what Jubilee had just said. "Hell, no! No way! Logan gave me strict warnings, and he'll skin me alive if I don't follow them!"

"Ray, please! I need to know whether Remy's OK or not! I won't forgive myself if anything happens to him and I wasn't there to ..."

Ray saw the first drops of tears. His defenses went down as more of them fell upon the floor. Inside he fought not to touch her, go near her or anything that needed close contact.

Jubilee held her hands together tightly. If she had told them everything about Remy in the first place, he wouldn't have been lured to what could possibly his doom. Slowly she felt warm human skin snaking around her neck and shoulders. It was Ray's arms. He pulled her close to his chest.

Jubilee continued to cry while Ray's brain calculated how fast would it take to avoid Logan's adamantium claws.

Author's Note: I don't own these guys, and you know it. But this universe is entirely new and it exists in my head only. Ray Quinton, Louis du Boudreault @ Pierre de Trois and some other names you've never heard before are my creations. Oh, and please review =)