Disclaimer: Don't own Xmen. Don't own sanity, either, but that's another matter.

Oh, which reminds me, this version of Gambit isn't an acolyte. I haven't seen any ones with him in yet, and besides, I like him good.

-------o(O)o------

Wolverine was worried. Xavier had told him not to go after her, but Siannagh had been gone a good six hours now and still hadn't returned. Dispite himself, he was beginning to get concerned. He shook his head and carried on with what he was doing; walking to the shops for some baby food.

As could be expected, Logan wasn't all too fond of children younger than seven or eight. They bugged him with their snotty little noses and big puppy-dog eyes. However, this little girl Salla had grown on him in the short time she had been there. Already, he had agreed to buy the food for her without even a second thought, which was unusual.

//Urgh,// he thought, with a shake of his head. //I'll be getting all broody next.//

The automatic doors hissed as he walked through. He automatically moved towards the alcohol aisles but stopped, and turned into the baby care section. Ooh, lots of pretty baby clothes...

//Grrr//, he thought. //Damn that little kid.//

He ignored the temptation to stare at the baby toys, and moved to the food section. There was quite a selection. He glanced incomprehensively at the jars on the shelves, then followed a woman with a baby in a pushchair and picked up everything she did. Chicken and mushroom, cheesy parsnip and potatoes, creamed harvest vegetables and apricot custard. How could those babies stomach this mush?

Eventually, the woman noticed Logan trailing her and smiled. "First time father?"

"I ain't no father," he growled. This was far too embarrassing. The woman, extremely disturbed, scurried away. "Stupid junk."

As he passed the toys this time, though, he couldn't resist. There was a simply adorable little lime green teddy bear with large black beady eyes and a cute button nose. He smiled grimly at the fact he was even considering touching something so cute, but picked it up anyway. He also grabbed some very cute pink and yellow outfits for her, judging the size randomly. As an afterthought, he fetched some nappies and nappy cream. He pondered momentarily at the nappy bags, but left them untouched and went to pay at the till.

The cashier recognised Logan as the man who brought large amounts of beer and, for some strange reason, cheese flavoured crackers so she was more than a bit surprised when he appeared with a basket full of baby products. However, she knew better than to question anything a customer bought.

She packed it away wordlessly and he paid with some spare cash he kept in his wallet. Sure, that money was not exactly intended to buy baby clothes, but stranger things have happened.

//On second thoughts//, he reflected, //No they haven't.//

------o(O)o------

"...So den Remy is 'ere," finished Remy. To the best of Siannagh's knowledge, he had just told her his entire life story. "What abou' y'?"

"Born, raped, put in a basement, rescued," she summarised, not wanting to go into too much detail. "Oh, I missed out 'gave birth'."

"Remy is sorry, chere," he said. They both took the moment of silence to look where they had walked to. It was definitely not the best part of town. The sun was retreating from the middle of the sky and Siannagh estimated that it was probably about two o'clock. "I didn' brin' any transpor'."

"You brought your feet," she pointed out. "How far is it now?"

"Wit' de perfec' timin' I often show," he announced, "Remy has found it."

Siannagh looked up at the run down house he had led her to with a sigh. Somehow she doubted that a woman who could be anyone she wanted would choose to live like this, but she might as well give it a go. She let him lead her through the front door, which was locked but easily picked.

"MYSTIQUE, Y' BITCH," he yelled up the stairs after a careful investigation of the downstairs. There was nothing living, but clear signs of inhabitation, like empty crisp packets. "Come down here."

An old lady appeared at the top of the stairs, hobbling on a little stick. Her glasses were crooked and her hair was a mess.

"What are you doing here?" the little old lady croaked, looking disgruntled. "Get out of my house young man, or I will be forced to call the police."

"Mystique," Gambit growled, "no use playin' de innocent wit' Remy. I know dat's you, so come down. Aqua here wan's to talk t' y'."

"I'm sorry, son, but my name isn't Mystique," she insisted. "And I'm pretty sure I don't know anyone called 'Aqua'."

Siannagh tugged at Remy's trench coat, and he turned to face her with a flickering glare at the old lady.

"Remy, what if that's not her?" she suggested. "What if you have got the wrong place?"

"Remy don' make mistakes, chere."

"Everyone does at some point."

"Let Remy deal wi' this. He knows wha' he's doin'."

//Stubborn bastard,// she thought, but sighed and stood back to let him do his thing. //This is far too embarrassing.//

"Mystique, Remy t'ink y' know dis girl," he said. "Remy be t'inkin', perhaps you'd like to talk t' her."

There was a moment of silence and distinct recognition flickered over the woman's face. Remy looked satisfied and threw a smug grin in the direction of Siannagh. When he looked back, Mystique was descending the stairs.