Disclaimer: I don't own any o the characters I am about to use in this
story. So don't sue me O.K? PLEASE!!!!!!!!
Thanks to my reviewers once again. I have to agree with you Jubes I don't like bad things happening to ol' Canucklehead either, but when the muses call..! Well that or I'm just incredibly sadistic. I favour the latter! Hope you enjoy!
Chapter.6.
Jean Grey-Summers, A.K.A Phoenix stretched out idly in the co-pilots seat of one of the many Blackbirds the X-Men owned these days. She glanced over at her husband in the pilot seat as he set about the task of bringing the sub-supersonic plane in for the final descent.
"You need a hand?" She asked absentmindedly, she already knew what the answer would be.
"No I've got it." His voice was as stern and stiff as his features. "Why don't you radio the other team up in Toronto, check on how their mission is proceeding?" Scott reached up and flipped several switches, turning their indicator lights from green to red.
"Alright honey." Jean replied as she plucked her radio-receiver headset from its housing to her right. Fitting it over her tied back flame-red locks she put her slim index finger to a small switch on the side and said, "X-Men team two this is Phoenix, do you copy. Over."
The headset crackled into life as a well-spoken female voice flowed through the receiver. "This is Psylocke. I'm reading you Phoenix. Over."
"Can you give me a status report? Over." Jean was sounding more and more like her overtly authoritative husband with each sentence.
"We're approaching our destination now love." The transmission cut briefly, then returned. "And for gods sake Jean could you please take that stick from up your arse and kindly pass it back to Cyclops. Over!"
Jean gave a small amused laugh whilst Scott simply grunted, unimpressed as usual.
"Will do Betsy. See you later." With that she removed the headset and started to replace it when her hand froze mid action. Her eyes widened as she saw a bolt of lightening tear through the roof of the mansion from what appeared to be a localised storm.
"Oh my god Scott, did you see that?!" Jean exclaimed in shock.
"Yes. Quickly, deactivate the hanger bay defences, I'm nearly ready to bring her down." Scott emitted no real signs of concern, only that expertly honed sense of steady control and authority.
"Storm must be in trouble. I'll try a mind scan, god I wish the Professor were here." She said mournfully, he was currently at the Paris X- Corporation headquarters.
Jean was extremely worried about her best friend but she forced herself to concentrate her mind on reaching out into the astral plain to contact her. All she received back was a hazy white static, but that didn't really surprise her as that was all she ever found in Storm's mind when she had summoned her powers.
"Damn it!" She shouted in frustration as she broke off the connection. She tried to think of who else might still be at the mansion as Scott began to lower the large stealth jet into the gleaming, reinforced-steel underground hanger.
For a moment she considered contacting Gambit but then thought better of it. Even the Professor had difficulty entering that man's mind due to the constant psychic static his powers caused. That plus his own mysteriously formidable cerebral defences, then she remembered.
"Wolverine!" She said aloud as she resumed her search. The two X-Men were by now waiting for the hydraulically activated plane door to open when suddenly Jean let out an astonished yelp.
"Jean!" Scott yelled, rushing forwards to catch his wife as she stumbled backwards. It was as if she had been physically pushed.
"I'm---I'm fine Scott, really." She insisted as she struggled out of his supportive hold, determined to stand on her own. "It's just---" She broke off as she thought over what she had just witnessed in Logan's mind. The normal broken disorder, yes but it was more fractured that usual. The rage she felt was overwhelming.
"What is it Jean?" Cyclops demanded.
"There's something very, very bad going on. Come on Scott, we've got to hurry!" With that they quickly made their way down the steps of the open Blackbird door.
* * *
"STOP IT!" Ororo screamed so loud that her throat felt raw, as Remy rammed his Bo staff that he'd snatched up from the sideboard, into Logan's chest. There was an almighty clang as metal connected with metal. Blood fountained from Wolverines wound as he fell backwards, hitting the floor with a resounding thud.
Ororo instantly fell into battle mode, her eyes became an opaque, milky soup as she lifted gracefully off the floor on a light wind current.
"Get away from him Gambit." She sounded unnaturally loud and imposing as Remy turned his head to look up at her. Taking his attention away from the task of charging the adamantium staff protruding from Logan's body.
"Why de fuck should I !" He roared, the staff was crackling now as if on fire as Logan slashed wildly at it with his claws but to no avail. Adamantium could not cut through adamantium. He snarled viciously in pain and frustration.
"Fine. Have it your way!" Ororo exclaimed. Remy was violently swept, literally, away from Logan, his hands still gripped the staff causing him to wrench it painfully out of his opponent. Logan howled as it was torn from his burning flesh, the sensation was excruciating. Remy collided with the far wall, his head connecting audibly with it in a sickening thump.
"This has gone far enough!" Storm's voice emitted the tone she used as leader, she'd truly had enough of this macho nonsense. If they were going to try and settle this like two scraping schoolchildren in a playground then she'd just have to play teacher.
"It ain't gone nearly far enough, darlin'!" Logan slurred as he rolled himself over onto his front. He struggled to push himself up onto all fours before a coughing fit made him collapse back down, blood splattering the floor beneath him. He growled angrily as tried again.
"Fine wit me homme!" The now recovered Remy strode over to Logan's form once more. As he neared him he brought his right leg back at the knee, then swung it forwards with a forceful movement. Logan roared as the steel capped boot slammed into his side, the momentum lifting him slightly off the floor. Remy repeated the action again and again all the time raging, "YO' BAST'ARD! YO' FUCKIN' MERDE! GO NEAR MAH WIFE, I'M GOIN' KILL YO'! BAST'ARD!" Spittle flew from his mouth and his eyes were positively aflame.
Ororo flung herself at Remy, she couldn't think of any other way of getting him away from Logan and keeping him away. They both landed heavily, Ororo splayed out on top of her husband, gripping the sides of his T-shirt desperately.
"Remy you must listen to me!" She pleaded.
"Non!" He shouted as he tried to push her off him, in vain.
"Please, this will solve nothing. We need to go somewhere and talk properly." She spoke with the measured tones of a professional councillor but her body language was in contradiction to it as her grip on his tattered clothing tightened.
"I t'ink we said all dat need to be said chere." His piercing gaze locked with her weary eyes. " An' Remy's seen all he need to see."
"No! You have got it wrong! I ---" Ororo didn't get to finish her sentence as she felt herself being yanked away from Remy's body. Logan had grabbed a handful of her dress and literally picked her whole body up by it, flinging her to the side like a dustbin bag being thrown out for collection.
Remy was caught off guard and had no time to adopt a defensive position as Logan loomed over him, practically gnashing his teeth. He brought his arm back, extending his claws with their distinctive #SNIKT!# as he did so. His arm swung back down, slicing into Remy's bare bicep. Crimson liquid seeped through three long incisions as Remy bit back a scream of pain. He managed a brief glance down at the injuries and to his internal relief noticed that they were only flesh wounds, fairly deep but flesh wounds non-the-less. Logan must have been holding back for some reason, he thought quickly, or he'd have taken his whole arm off with that strike. But he had no time to ponder this as Logan repeated a similar blow to his chest, shredding what was left of his T-shirt.
Remy managed somehow to bring his heavily strapped hand up and although it hurt like a bitch he wrapped his long fingers around Logan's throat and gripped it. He brought his left hand up too and repeated the action, squeezing Logan's thick neck for all his worth.
Logan started to cough and splutter in the Cajun's chokehold, spraying bloody saliva over Remy's grimly concentrating features. But this didn't stop Logan in his fury as he brought his own hands down to Remy's throat and began to throttle him. Both men started to shake with the tension as their grips tightened.
Ororo crawled over to the pair, not noticing as the pieces of shattered mirror cut her knees and shins to ribbons, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. She reached up to grip Logan's shoulders and pulled back with all her might. The stocky man didn't move one jot but she continued trying regardless.
"Get off him!" A wild wind began swirling around the room, gradually picking up force and speed.
"What the hell is going on in here!" Scott shouted over the howling winds as he and Jean burst into the room. They'd stopped abruptly, shocked at what they were witnessing. They'd seen X-Men going at it against each other many times before but nothing like this. Their teammates were clearly trying to kill each other.
Scott gained his composure swiftly, barking a leaderesque order at Jean. "Get Ororo off Logan now!"
Jean ran over to the fray, her now loose red hair billowing about her haphazardly in the winds.
"Ororo move! Come on!" She shouted, struggling to make herself heard. But that didn't matter as she pulled Ororo away from the brawling pair with her hands and the aid of her telekinesis.
"Wolverine! Gambit! I'm giving you one chance to break this up now." Scott warned as his leather-clad hand went up to the control dial set on the right hand side of his battle visor. Neither man responded, it was as if they hadn't registered that anyone else was in the vicinity.
"Break it up now!" Still no response, so Cyclops did the only thing he could do without causing any lasting damage. He turned his visor dial with a light touch forwards, emitting a low-level energy blast. Just enough to split the sparring pair apart.
The winds slowly died down as Logan and Remy lay on their backs desperately gasping for air, their hands instinctively checking their own throats. Everybody in the room remained silent for a while, each one trying to process what had just happened.
"So?" Scott, typically, spoke first. "Anybody care to tell me what the hell was going on here? Can't we leave you two alone for five minutes without you finding some kind of trouble to get yourselves into?" He looked at Logan then shifted his covered gaze over to Remy. Both men were still panting albeit less vigorously, their faces bright red as sweat beads trickled down them, dripping to the floor.
"'Ro?" Jean asked softly as she cradled her best friend in her arms, rocking her from side to side gently.
"It is all such a mess! It is all my fault! It is all my fault!" Ororo sobbed as she turned her face into Jean's chest, her shoulders convulsing in silent anguish. She could take no more.
"Shush, Shush." Jean crooned, gently stroking Ororo's tangled locks whilst resting her cheek comfortingly on top of Ororo's head.
Scott watched the interaction between the women then turned his attention back to the men, whose breathing had resumed an ordinary rhythm.
Logan sat up first, casting a vicious look at Remy then Scott. "It's non o' yer god damn business One-Eye." His hand rubbed uncertainly across his still reddened neck.
"Oh really Wolverine! Well I think as overall leader of this team it is, when two members start trying to kill each other. Haven't we got enough trouble from outside already?" Scott folded his long arms across his chest in the most condescending manner, the leather of his uniform creaking under the movement. "We don't need more strife on top!"
"Up yers!" Logan retorted plainly as he struggled to his feet and looked over to Ororo. "You O. K?"
She didn't take on board his question, she seemed to be lost in a world of her own as She stared at nothing over Jean's shoulder, still locked in her steadying embrace.
"Well? Scott directed his inquiry at Remy this time, who was still laid flat on the floor surrounded by pools of blood and debris from the fighting.
"Like de man said homme, non o' your business." Remy wiped his strapped hand down his face, removing most of Logan's blood and then tried to push himself up. He grunted in pain as the cuts Logan had administered opened up again. Small streams of fresh blood flowed from them, running down his arm and chest.
"Jean," Scott turned to his wife. "Will you take Storm out of here. I'm going to get to the bottom of this," He returned his gaze to the two men. "If it takes all night."
Remy just grunted petulantly at his leader, Logan ignored him completely as he asked again, "Ororo, are you O. K?"
"Leave Logan. Now." She whispered, never taking her head from Jean's shoulder.
"'Ro---" He began but he was cut off by the redhead.
"Logan! Do as she says! She obviously doesn't want you here!" Annoyance coloured Jean's tone.
Logan looked at the back of Ororo's head for a moment, "Fine." He said, then he looked at Remy who was now sat, with his knees hitched up, his forearms resting casually on them. "But don't think this is over." Logan meant every ounce of that threat.
Remy returned Logan's dark look in kind as he uttered, "Not by a long shot mon ami, not by a long shot." The words 'mon ami' were spoken with the utmost sarcasm.
Logan sneered at Gambit before taking one last glance at Ororo. Then he turned and strode out of the attic room, stomping like a child in a tantrum down the staircase, his heavy footsteps echoing back at the remaining X- Men.
* * *
As Logan reached the bottom of the stairwell he leaned on the curving, oak banister for a moment. Bringing his thumb and forefinger of his right hand to rest on the far side of each eye he slowly drew them across each closed lid. He brought them to a stop in a pinching motion at the bridge of his nose. He drew in a large breath and sighed loudly, shaking his head minutely from side to side. His healing body ached unbelievably.
His darkened eyes flipped open, shimmering in the dimmed light of the hallway as he pushed away from the banister. He slowly traipsed down the dull corridor with a heavy heart.
* * *
Scott walked over to Remy in his usual confident stride and without a word he extended his hand down to him. Remy looked at the gloved hand then flicked his eyes up to Scott's ruby quartz visor. With half a grin he accepted the help that had been offered and wrenched himself up off the ground. As soon as he'd righted himself he stumbled past Scott to one of the reading chairs and slumped into it.
"So, you ready to talk yet?" Scott had repositioned himself to stand in front of Remy, his arms folded once more. The Cajun didn't reply he simply rammed his left hand into his pocket and fished out an extremely battered packet. Drawing out a cigarette very tentatively with his damaged hand he nonchalantly threw it into his waiting lips, catching it perfectly. Earning a rare amused smirks from the ever-solemn Summers. Remy couldn't help but chuckle lightly at the expression as he took out his Zippo and again with that expert flick of his thumb flipped back the lid, lighting his cigarette quickly.
"So?" Scott prompted again. He was growing impatient.
Remy twiddled his lighter around idly in his good hand as he took a deep drag from his cigarette, releasing the smoke in a slow steady stream. "So what?" He raised a quizzical auburn eyebrow at Scott before adding, "Ask her mon ami." Tossing his head in the direction of his wife and Jean.
Scott sighed in exasperation before turning just his upper body in the direction of the women, his arms still folded over his lean chest. "Well?"
"Don't Scott. Not now." Jean warned. "Come on sweetie, let's take you downstairs. You wanna get some fresh air?" She looked down at Ororo with worry etched across her face. Ororo nodded weakly in reply, so Jean started to get up from her kneeling position.
"Come on sweetie, give me a hand." She encouraged, Ororo didn't seem capable of standing up under her own strength at this point. Eventually Jean managed to get her upright. With whispered words of comfort in her ear Jean escorted the Windrider, with shuffling steps from the room.
Scott walked over to an ornate mahogany drinks cabinet set in the far corner of the attic space. Pulling down the lid he reached inside and retrieved a bottle of bourbon and two thick, stubby glasses. Grasping all three items firmly in his hands he made his way back over to Remy. He was slouched in the large chair, his eyes closed and one gloved hand raised, fingertips touching his forehead, rubbing back and forth slowly.
Setting the two glasses down on the floor Scott kneeled in front of Remy's chair. He uncapped the bottle and poured two rather large measures.
"What' dis mon ami? De great stiff of de team be drinkin'?!" Remy quipped half-heartedly with a wry smile as he opened his eyes to observe Cyclops sat before him.
Scott sniffed indifferently in reply as he held out one of the glasses to Remy. Gambit grasped the glass awkwardly in his left hand, putting the rim to his lips he threw his head back, downing the dark liquor in one go. Scott quirked an eyebrow in mild surprise as Remy held out the glass for a refill. Shrugging shortly Scott obliged, this time filling the glass well over halfway.
Setting the bottle down again he said, "Are you going to tell me what went on here or am I going to have to beat it out of you."
-TBC-
What do you think? Might be a couple of weeks before I can update. So I hope this chapter tides you over for a while. Ciao for now! (Cheers for the spell check Jubes!)
Thanks to my reviewers once again. I have to agree with you Jubes I don't like bad things happening to ol' Canucklehead either, but when the muses call..! Well that or I'm just incredibly sadistic. I favour the latter! Hope you enjoy!
Chapter.6.
Jean Grey-Summers, A.K.A Phoenix stretched out idly in the co-pilots seat of one of the many Blackbirds the X-Men owned these days. She glanced over at her husband in the pilot seat as he set about the task of bringing the sub-supersonic plane in for the final descent.
"You need a hand?" She asked absentmindedly, she already knew what the answer would be.
"No I've got it." His voice was as stern and stiff as his features. "Why don't you radio the other team up in Toronto, check on how their mission is proceeding?" Scott reached up and flipped several switches, turning their indicator lights from green to red.
"Alright honey." Jean replied as she plucked her radio-receiver headset from its housing to her right. Fitting it over her tied back flame-red locks she put her slim index finger to a small switch on the side and said, "X-Men team two this is Phoenix, do you copy. Over."
The headset crackled into life as a well-spoken female voice flowed through the receiver. "This is Psylocke. I'm reading you Phoenix. Over."
"Can you give me a status report? Over." Jean was sounding more and more like her overtly authoritative husband with each sentence.
"We're approaching our destination now love." The transmission cut briefly, then returned. "And for gods sake Jean could you please take that stick from up your arse and kindly pass it back to Cyclops. Over!"
Jean gave a small amused laugh whilst Scott simply grunted, unimpressed as usual.
"Will do Betsy. See you later." With that she removed the headset and started to replace it when her hand froze mid action. Her eyes widened as she saw a bolt of lightening tear through the roof of the mansion from what appeared to be a localised storm.
"Oh my god Scott, did you see that?!" Jean exclaimed in shock.
"Yes. Quickly, deactivate the hanger bay defences, I'm nearly ready to bring her down." Scott emitted no real signs of concern, only that expertly honed sense of steady control and authority.
"Storm must be in trouble. I'll try a mind scan, god I wish the Professor were here." She said mournfully, he was currently at the Paris X- Corporation headquarters.
Jean was extremely worried about her best friend but she forced herself to concentrate her mind on reaching out into the astral plain to contact her. All she received back was a hazy white static, but that didn't really surprise her as that was all she ever found in Storm's mind when she had summoned her powers.
"Damn it!" She shouted in frustration as she broke off the connection. She tried to think of who else might still be at the mansion as Scott began to lower the large stealth jet into the gleaming, reinforced-steel underground hanger.
For a moment she considered contacting Gambit but then thought better of it. Even the Professor had difficulty entering that man's mind due to the constant psychic static his powers caused. That plus his own mysteriously formidable cerebral defences, then she remembered.
"Wolverine!" She said aloud as she resumed her search. The two X-Men were by now waiting for the hydraulically activated plane door to open when suddenly Jean let out an astonished yelp.
"Jean!" Scott yelled, rushing forwards to catch his wife as she stumbled backwards. It was as if she had been physically pushed.
"I'm---I'm fine Scott, really." She insisted as she struggled out of his supportive hold, determined to stand on her own. "It's just---" She broke off as she thought over what she had just witnessed in Logan's mind. The normal broken disorder, yes but it was more fractured that usual. The rage she felt was overwhelming.
"What is it Jean?" Cyclops demanded.
"There's something very, very bad going on. Come on Scott, we've got to hurry!" With that they quickly made their way down the steps of the open Blackbird door.
* * *
"STOP IT!" Ororo screamed so loud that her throat felt raw, as Remy rammed his Bo staff that he'd snatched up from the sideboard, into Logan's chest. There was an almighty clang as metal connected with metal. Blood fountained from Wolverines wound as he fell backwards, hitting the floor with a resounding thud.
Ororo instantly fell into battle mode, her eyes became an opaque, milky soup as she lifted gracefully off the floor on a light wind current.
"Get away from him Gambit." She sounded unnaturally loud and imposing as Remy turned his head to look up at her. Taking his attention away from the task of charging the adamantium staff protruding from Logan's body.
"Why de fuck should I !" He roared, the staff was crackling now as if on fire as Logan slashed wildly at it with his claws but to no avail. Adamantium could not cut through adamantium. He snarled viciously in pain and frustration.
"Fine. Have it your way!" Ororo exclaimed. Remy was violently swept, literally, away from Logan, his hands still gripped the staff causing him to wrench it painfully out of his opponent. Logan howled as it was torn from his burning flesh, the sensation was excruciating. Remy collided with the far wall, his head connecting audibly with it in a sickening thump.
"This has gone far enough!" Storm's voice emitted the tone she used as leader, she'd truly had enough of this macho nonsense. If they were going to try and settle this like two scraping schoolchildren in a playground then she'd just have to play teacher.
"It ain't gone nearly far enough, darlin'!" Logan slurred as he rolled himself over onto his front. He struggled to push himself up onto all fours before a coughing fit made him collapse back down, blood splattering the floor beneath him. He growled angrily as tried again.
"Fine wit me homme!" The now recovered Remy strode over to Logan's form once more. As he neared him he brought his right leg back at the knee, then swung it forwards with a forceful movement. Logan roared as the steel capped boot slammed into his side, the momentum lifting him slightly off the floor. Remy repeated the action again and again all the time raging, "YO' BAST'ARD! YO' FUCKIN' MERDE! GO NEAR MAH WIFE, I'M GOIN' KILL YO'! BAST'ARD!" Spittle flew from his mouth and his eyes were positively aflame.
Ororo flung herself at Remy, she couldn't think of any other way of getting him away from Logan and keeping him away. They both landed heavily, Ororo splayed out on top of her husband, gripping the sides of his T-shirt desperately.
"Remy you must listen to me!" She pleaded.
"Non!" He shouted as he tried to push her off him, in vain.
"Please, this will solve nothing. We need to go somewhere and talk properly." She spoke with the measured tones of a professional councillor but her body language was in contradiction to it as her grip on his tattered clothing tightened.
"I t'ink we said all dat need to be said chere." His piercing gaze locked with her weary eyes. " An' Remy's seen all he need to see."
"No! You have got it wrong! I ---" Ororo didn't get to finish her sentence as she felt herself being yanked away from Remy's body. Logan had grabbed a handful of her dress and literally picked her whole body up by it, flinging her to the side like a dustbin bag being thrown out for collection.
Remy was caught off guard and had no time to adopt a defensive position as Logan loomed over him, practically gnashing his teeth. He brought his arm back, extending his claws with their distinctive #SNIKT!# as he did so. His arm swung back down, slicing into Remy's bare bicep. Crimson liquid seeped through three long incisions as Remy bit back a scream of pain. He managed a brief glance down at the injuries and to his internal relief noticed that they were only flesh wounds, fairly deep but flesh wounds non-the-less. Logan must have been holding back for some reason, he thought quickly, or he'd have taken his whole arm off with that strike. But he had no time to ponder this as Logan repeated a similar blow to his chest, shredding what was left of his T-shirt.
Remy managed somehow to bring his heavily strapped hand up and although it hurt like a bitch he wrapped his long fingers around Logan's throat and gripped it. He brought his left hand up too and repeated the action, squeezing Logan's thick neck for all his worth.
Logan started to cough and splutter in the Cajun's chokehold, spraying bloody saliva over Remy's grimly concentrating features. But this didn't stop Logan in his fury as he brought his own hands down to Remy's throat and began to throttle him. Both men started to shake with the tension as their grips tightened.
Ororo crawled over to the pair, not noticing as the pieces of shattered mirror cut her knees and shins to ribbons, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. She reached up to grip Logan's shoulders and pulled back with all her might. The stocky man didn't move one jot but she continued trying regardless.
"Get off him!" A wild wind began swirling around the room, gradually picking up force and speed.
"What the hell is going on in here!" Scott shouted over the howling winds as he and Jean burst into the room. They'd stopped abruptly, shocked at what they were witnessing. They'd seen X-Men going at it against each other many times before but nothing like this. Their teammates were clearly trying to kill each other.
Scott gained his composure swiftly, barking a leaderesque order at Jean. "Get Ororo off Logan now!"
Jean ran over to the fray, her now loose red hair billowing about her haphazardly in the winds.
"Ororo move! Come on!" She shouted, struggling to make herself heard. But that didn't matter as she pulled Ororo away from the brawling pair with her hands and the aid of her telekinesis.
"Wolverine! Gambit! I'm giving you one chance to break this up now." Scott warned as his leather-clad hand went up to the control dial set on the right hand side of his battle visor. Neither man responded, it was as if they hadn't registered that anyone else was in the vicinity.
"Break it up now!" Still no response, so Cyclops did the only thing he could do without causing any lasting damage. He turned his visor dial with a light touch forwards, emitting a low-level energy blast. Just enough to split the sparring pair apart.
The winds slowly died down as Logan and Remy lay on their backs desperately gasping for air, their hands instinctively checking their own throats. Everybody in the room remained silent for a while, each one trying to process what had just happened.
"So?" Scott, typically, spoke first. "Anybody care to tell me what the hell was going on here? Can't we leave you two alone for five minutes without you finding some kind of trouble to get yourselves into?" He looked at Logan then shifted his covered gaze over to Remy. Both men were still panting albeit less vigorously, their faces bright red as sweat beads trickled down them, dripping to the floor.
"'Ro?" Jean asked softly as she cradled her best friend in her arms, rocking her from side to side gently.
"It is all such a mess! It is all my fault! It is all my fault!" Ororo sobbed as she turned her face into Jean's chest, her shoulders convulsing in silent anguish. She could take no more.
"Shush, Shush." Jean crooned, gently stroking Ororo's tangled locks whilst resting her cheek comfortingly on top of Ororo's head.
Scott watched the interaction between the women then turned his attention back to the men, whose breathing had resumed an ordinary rhythm.
Logan sat up first, casting a vicious look at Remy then Scott. "It's non o' yer god damn business One-Eye." His hand rubbed uncertainly across his still reddened neck.
"Oh really Wolverine! Well I think as overall leader of this team it is, when two members start trying to kill each other. Haven't we got enough trouble from outside already?" Scott folded his long arms across his chest in the most condescending manner, the leather of his uniform creaking under the movement. "We don't need more strife on top!"
"Up yers!" Logan retorted plainly as he struggled to his feet and looked over to Ororo. "You O. K?"
She didn't take on board his question, she seemed to be lost in a world of her own as She stared at nothing over Jean's shoulder, still locked in her steadying embrace.
"Well? Scott directed his inquiry at Remy this time, who was still laid flat on the floor surrounded by pools of blood and debris from the fighting.
"Like de man said homme, non o' your business." Remy wiped his strapped hand down his face, removing most of Logan's blood and then tried to push himself up. He grunted in pain as the cuts Logan had administered opened up again. Small streams of fresh blood flowed from them, running down his arm and chest.
"Jean," Scott turned to his wife. "Will you take Storm out of here. I'm going to get to the bottom of this," He returned his gaze to the two men. "If it takes all night."
Remy just grunted petulantly at his leader, Logan ignored him completely as he asked again, "Ororo, are you O. K?"
"Leave Logan. Now." She whispered, never taking her head from Jean's shoulder.
"'Ro---" He began but he was cut off by the redhead.
"Logan! Do as she says! She obviously doesn't want you here!" Annoyance coloured Jean's tone.
Logan looked at the back of Ororo's head for a moment, "Fine." He said, then he looked at Remy who was now sat, with his knees hitched up, his forearms resting casually on them. "But don't think this is over." Logan meant every ounce of that threat.
Remy returned Logan's dark look in kind as he uttered, "Not by a long shot mon ami, not by a long shot." The words 'mon ami' were spoken with the utmost sarcasm.
Logan sneered at Gambit before taking one last glance at Ororo. Then he turned and strode out of the attic room, stomping like a child in a tantrum down the staircase, his heavy footsteps echoing back at the remaining X- Men.
* * *
As Logan reached the bottom of the stairwell he leaned on the curving, oak banister for a moment. Bringing his thumb and forefinger of his right hand to rest on the far side of each eye he slowly drew them across each closed lid. He brought them to a stop in a pinching motion at the bridge of his nose. He drew in a large breath and sighed loudly, shaking his head minutely from side to side. His healing body ached unbelievably.
His darkened eyes flipped open, shimmering in the dimmed light of the hallway as he pushed away from the banister. He slowly traipsed down the dull corridor with a heavy heart.
* * *
Scott walked over to Remy in his usual confident stride and without a word he extended his hand down to him. Remy looked at the gloved hand then flicked his eyes up to Scott's ruby quartz visor. With half a grin he accepted the help that had been offered and wrenched himself up off the ground. As soon as he'd righted himself he stumbled past Scott to one of the reading chairs and slumped into it.
"So, you ready to talk yet?" Scott had repositioned himself to stand in front of Remy, his arms folded once more. The Cajun didn't reply he simply rammed his left hand into his pocket and fished out an extremely battered packet. Drawing out a cigarette very tentatively with his damaged hand he nonchalantly threw it into his waiting lips, catching it perfectly. Earning a rare amused smirks from the ever-solemn Summers. Remy couldn't help but chuckle lightly at the expression as he took out his Zippo and again with that expert flick of his thumb flipped back the lid, lighting his cigarette quickly.
"So?" Scott prompted again. He was growing impatient.
Remy twiddled his lighter around idly in his good hand as he took a deep drag from his cigarette, releasing the smoke in a slow steady stream. "So what?" He raised a quizzical auburn eyebrow at Scott before adding, "Ask her mon ami." Tossing his head in the direction of his wife and Jean.
Scott sighed in exasperation before turning just his upper body in the direction of the women, his arms still folded over his lean chest. "Well?"
"Don't Scott. Not now." Jean warned. "Come on sweetie, let's take you downstairs. You wanna get some fresh air?" She looked down at Ororo with worry etched across her face. Ororo nodded weakly in reply, so Jean started to get up from her kneeling position.
"Come on sweetie, give me a hand." She encouraged, Ororo didn't seem capable of standing up under her own strength at this point. Eventually Jean managed to get her upright. With whispered words of comfort in her ear Jean escorted the Windrider, with shuffling steps from the room.
Scott walked over to an ornate mahogany drinks cabinet set in the far corner of the attic space. Pulling down the lid he reached inside and retrieved a bottle of bourbon and two thick, stubby glasses. Grasping all three items firmly in his hands he made his way back over to Remy. He was slouched in the large chair, his eyes closed and one gloved hand raised, fingertips touching his forehead, rubbing back and forth slowly.
Setting the two glasses down on the floor Scott kneeled in front of Remy's chair. He uncapped the bottle and poured two rather large measures.
"What' dis mon ami? De great stiff of de team be drinkin'?!" Remy quipped half-heartedly with a wry smile as he opened his eyes to observe Cyclops sat before him.
Scott sniffed indifferently in reply as he held out one of the glasses to Remy. Gambit grasped the glass awkwardly in his left hand, putting the rim to his lips he threw his head back, downing the dark liquor in one go. Scott quirked an eyebrow in mild surprise as Remy held out the glass for a refill. Shrugging shortly Scott obliged, this time filling the glass well over halfway.
Setting the bottle down again he said, "Are you going to tell me what went on here or am I going to have to beat it out of you."
-TBC-
What do you think? Might be a couple of weeks before I can update. So I hope this chapter tides you over for a while. Ciao for now! (Cheers for the spell check Jubes!)