Disclaimer It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.

The bar's private alleyway had become a scorched war-zone, the trashcans over turned and the bricks baring long gouges where Wolverine's claws had come within inches of taking a piece out of the thief's hide. Now the two combatants circled each other in the tight confines of the area. Too up close and personal for Gambit to charge his cards without risk to himself and so confined that either's agility was severely hampered. Instead they had been toe-to-toe, adamantium claws against what Logan had swiftly realised to be an adamantium bo staff, whirled in almost non-stop offence or defence with an almost casual mastery.

But Logan was built to endure and outlast, and his opponent was almost imperceptivity slowing after the ten minutes he estimated they had spent trading blows. It would have been over quicker if he'd had the intention to actually hurt the guy, but pulling his claws at the last moment away from lethality was making his work difficult.

"The cops are gonna be here soon bub, I'm guessin' you'd prefer to come with me rather than them. Make this easy on yourself."

Beneath the smudges from the first tumble into the dirt he'd taken, Remy gave a wide smile, trying to ignore his protesting and abused muscles, internally berating himself for being so stupid as to let himself be trapped in a space with only one real way out. Not a mistake he intended to make again if he could help it.

"I t'ought dis was th' easy way, mon ami, you not..."

He fell silent as Logan's com badge flashed red, the other man tapping it on slowly without taking his eyes from the prey he'd finally managed to corner. The others gaze was roaming constantly looking for an opening, just waiting for a lapse in alertness.

"This better be good."

Ororo's voice was slightly tinny, but audible. "We have arrived in New York Logan, have you found the thief?"

Remy eased himself into a position to leap, waiting until Logan tilted his head just slightly to reply, then making a fast break to the side. As a pair of arms caught him at chest height and pinned his arms, he knew he wasn't fast enough. He was thrown roughly back into the wall, unable to cushion his head before it struck the brick. Suddenly his body had no interest at all in obeying him, he heard rather than felt his staff leave his fingers and clatter to the concrete. Wolverine's weight pinned him effectively, and the man's voice came from far away as his world contracted to oblivion.

"Yeah, I found him 'ro."


He hadn't thought his head could feel any worse than it did when it was so intimately introduced to the wall, but rapidly discovered waking up to be a more painful place as what appeared to be most of the muscles in his body ganged up with an intense headache to make themselves known. There was something damp at his lips, he tightened them against it reflexively. Never eat or drink anything you haven't seen prepared was less a rule than a survival tactic when your family rivalled the Assassin's Guild in a city.

A soft, southern accented, voice speaking above him dragged him further into consciousness, a land he was feeling less and less like visiting. Especially as he began to piece together the last moments before the world went black.

"Ah think he's wakin' up. But he isn't drinkin'. I reckon yuh hit him too hard Logan."

Without opening his eyes, he slowed his breathing, trying to affect sleep. Despite the pain of his head spatial senses began to function once more. There was a figure moving at his left side, carrying something that flowed gently in her hand. The femme with the drink. Beyond her was another, and one more just entering his field of awareness.

The gruff tones of Wolverine intruded on his attempt to discover, without moving, if anything held him against the soft surface he was lying on.

"You're good enough at playin' possum Cajun, but you ain't foolin' me. Your heart rate's up, and there's nuthin' you can do about that."

With a slightly aggrieved sigh, he gingerly opened his eyes a crack. The room was low lit enough to open them further and he turned what he hoped was a sardonic gaze to the figure sat in a chair a few feet from the bed an attempt to move his hands told him he was strapped to at the shoulders, waist and feet.

"Handy dat hearin' you got dere ... it make up fo' bein' so slow?"

Even in his current predicament, he gave a smile at the flash of anger in Wolverine's eyes in response to the arrogant flippancy in his tone, then turned his head quickly at a lightly reproving tap to his pinned wrist on the right of the bed. Too quickly for his head, through the bright flashes of light the sudden movement created in his vision he finally made out the figure of the woman he'd knocked out of the sky. She was smiling almost regretfully; an expression he felt didn't suit her.

"Remy, do not anger us. It will serve you no purpose."

Storm watched apprehensively as their guest's features blanked completely at the use of his given name, then took on an almost cagey cast even as he replied with the smooth charm in his tone she had half expected.

"You have my name, you be givin' me th' pleasure of yours, hein?"

That did surprise her, he had seemed to have anticipated them enough he had been given information on their abilities, but apparently there had been no names. That she filed away for further thought as she took a seat on the bed by his side, leaning over a touch so he had no need to crane his doubtless aching neck to see her.

"I am Ororo Monroe, the gentleman on the chair is Logan, the young lady who attempted to give you the water is named Rogue. She has been monitoring your condition, it seems Wolverine may have hit you a little harder than he intended."

"Some people should just learn t' ask nice if they want a body t' cooperate. If I ask nice, y' let me up?"

Her hand was half way to the restraints as his wrists before Logan caught it in his paw, leaning over the bed and levelling a glare at Remy.

"I don't know what you're doing punk, but you stop it now unless you got a likin' for being knocked out."

Remy almost ground his teeth in frustration, the weather witch had been so responsive to the suggestion in his tone and expression, it appeared Logan very definitely was not. Barely moving his head, he gave a nod and acquiesced, releasing the strand of what he thought of as his 'charm' from it's hold on her.

"D' ccord"

Storm blinked once, slowly, as a lethargy she had not noticed creeping over her disappeared and she sat down once more, and then hardened her expression. This was not the boy-child she had met in her youth; there was a physical resemblance in the very appealing features, but nothing more. After a slight smile of thanks to her intervener, she returned her attention to the figure on the bed.

"Logan, would you please go with Rogue and fetch bottled water. He will not drink anything else, and I think he may be dehydrated. Also, the cut on his head should be properly seen to as well, bandages and antiseptic please."

Rogue had been lingering near the door, unsure whether she was needed or not, but curious enough to remain quiet and simply watch the proceedings. She had been out watching a townhouse with Kitty and Evan when they had all received the recall over their com badges. The thief had been bought in just after they had returned, half conscious and muttering disjointedly in a mixture of French and English. As she had been closest, she had been the one to help make him comfortable and somehow failed to leave his side since. It was almost with a physical pang she left him now, following an obviously unhappy Wolverine from the room. She shut the door behind her on Storms half whispered words.

"I have not contacted your father..."

As they were left alone, Ororo saw for the first time a spark of rage in the young man's eyes, he nearly hissed his words to her.

"You be leavin' mon pere out of dis, it none of his concern. You deal wit' Gambit, an' jus' Gambit"

She nodded slightly, indeed he was old enough to be making his own decisions, however poorly chosen, and taking his own repercussions. This seemed to abate his anger, he returned to hiding his thoughts behind a remarkably accomplished poker face for one who could not be older than seventeen, at most. There was time for considering how he became so practiced later, at this moment she required information.

"I have no intention of calling Jean-Luc, yet. But you must concede you have been caught and it is now in your best interests to tell us what you have been stealing, and for whom."

"I concede I been temporarily apprehended chere, but dat not goin' t' last." He gave her an almost smug grin. "Seein' as you know so much 'bout who I am an' where I come from, you got t' know you won' be able t' hold me fo' long. An' th' police not be able to keep me at all"

Now it was her turn to smile and give a careless shrug. "I believe we can hold you for as long as we need. There is a telepath in the next room more than able to extract what you must tell us from your mind should you decide not to cooperate." Of course, she, nor Jean, would ever consider such a thing. It was doubtful even that the young woman could do such a thing. But from the suddenly haunted shadow in Remy's eyes, he believed they most certainly would. And even with that knowledge, the brazenness quickly covered the fleeting emotion.

"Ain' a t'ing I can tell y' dat'd help y'. All th' files gone, and I don't know the name of the ones I workin' fo'. So if y' girl wan' t' try her luck wit' my mind, she welcome."

"We may indeed reach that point, but anything you tell me willingly will make this easier on you. Wolverine saw you putting the files in the bag, why is it empty now?"

He tried to shrug, but gave up in the face of restraints tight enough he had enough trouble taking a deep breath, a careless belligerence still heavy in his tone. "Who knows? Not you … an' you won' know from me"

The sense of loss filled her again as she looked down at this stranger whom she had considered a friend a decade before. Clearly he did not remember her, and she had been too busy to give much thought to the one she had been encouraged to look upon as a brother while she had been given shelter by the LeBeau clan. Hints of the wild but exuberant child fresh from the streets were within him still, and it was very nearly exasperating not to be able to connect with them.

From his suddenly uncertain expression, it seemed she may have reached him after all.

"Why y' so sad M'moiselle Monroe? Angry I get' ... but Remy jus' a t'ief, no reason t' feel bad fo' him"

Hearing Logan and Rogue's return to the hotel suit they had rented for the duration of their stay she stood, unable to help giving a feather light kiss to his forehead before turning towards the door speaking quietly.

"I am sad because once you called me Stormy."

He watched her leave, frowning as vague memories swam for a moment, but dissipated as soon as he was aware of them. They didn't matter, what mattered was the fact he had been left alone and conscious. What were they thinking?

Nightcrawler was the first to notice the traces of smoke in the air, teleporting into the room of their unwilling guest with a half cry of warning a moment before the door blew out in palm-sized pieces.

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Um ... let me know if I'm going a little heavy on Gambit's accent *g* Sorry for a bit of a filler chapter ...