The Pair
This starts at the end of Ultimate X-Men #14. It will bring in Gambit a lot earlier and keep him there. We might not follow the comics if we can get an original enemy or situation. It will also introduce two new mutants and the little girl Remy took care of.
"Remy?" the little girl said and looked around.
"He's gone sweetie," Bill said. "Come on, let's go."
After they had gone a few blocks, he looked at her and asked, "What's your name?"
"Angel," she told him, "or Sherry. That's what Remy called me."
"Cheriè?" Ted asked, putting in the proper accent, then added, "Those are nicknames, like when Bill called you sweetie, what's your real name?"
"Please, will you just use one of those?"
She sounded so sad and lost that Bill interrupted before Ted could try to press her.
"Sure, until you're ready to tell us, we'll just call you angel, and you can give everyone at the shelter the same choice, O.K.?"
Angel nodded and whispered, "Thank you."
Bill could hear in her voice the tears she was fighting so hard to keep from falling.
Psyc was board. It was first day of her second week at the shelter and even though she was allowed to leave she had had no luck in finding her friend Jazz. The door opened and Bill and Ted walked in, and they had a little girl with them.
Great, Psyc thought. She can't be more then eight years old. What's she doing here?
Bill cleared his throat and the room fell silent.
"We have a new ward," he said. "You can call her angel, or Sherry. We're not really sure how long she will be here so we hope you will be kind and make her stay pleasant. Now who currently has a room to themselves?"
Psyc looked around, no one had raised their hands. Perfect, I'm the only one with a room to myself and now I get to share it with a baby!
Reluctantly, she raised her hand.
"Good, Psyc, she can stay with you for now, and we'll make more permanent arrangements in a few days."
A couple nights later, just as she was drifting off to sleep, Psyc heard Sherry crying.
"What's wrong?" she said as she walked across the room to the younger child's bed.
"He hates me," Sherry sobbed.
"What do you mean? Who hates you?" Psyc sat on the end of the bed and listened as the little girl told her story. Starting with how her parents had been killed, and how she had found Remy (from the description Psyc thought she had been to a couple of his shows and he was pretty good), moving on to tell how she had been stolen from him as she slept, and he had come and saved her, and how he had turned her over to the shelter.
"So now he hates me," she finished. "What did I do Psyc? Why did Remy decide he didn't want me around any more?"
Psyc opened her mouth to reply when suddenly there was a sound like a small boom going off and the sky lit up. Sherry looked up and gasped. A fiery heart like from the middle of a card was floating down just out side the window. Psyc didn't know what it meant, but after seeing it, the little girl quit crying and went to sleep.
"Psyc!" Sherry ran into the room her eyes shining. "There's someone here to see you!"
Psyc couldn't help but smile. It was hard to believe that just two weeks ago she had called Sherry a baby. The truth was, though she was only seven, Sherry could have easily passed, at least mentally (on most aspects, they still needed to work on the difference between fiction and non-fiction), as 12 or 13. There had never been a recurrence of the night Sherry had cried her self to sleep, but she had acquired a strange obsession with playing cards. No one knew where she got them since she would flat-out refuse to take any from the other wards, but her collection kept growing.
"Alright. You stay here; just look at your cards or something. If it's who I think it is, you don't need to hear this conversation."
When she saw the look in Sherry's eyes she sighed, "Tell you what if I'm not back in 45 minutes, then run through the shelter yelling 'Psyc' at the top of your lungs and I guarantee you someone will tell you where I am," and she walked out and closed the door.
"How'd you know it was me?"
Psyc turned and leaning against the wall was Jazz. Jazz was easily the most attractive person Psyc knew. She kept her copper-top hair cut to just below shoulder length, had eyes the color of the blue hope diamond, the body of a supper model and she wasn't afraid to use it to get what she wanted. Psyc smiled at her.
"I am a psychic you know."
"Very funny. Lets go somewhere and talk."
"Fine."
Psyc led the way down the hall. She stopped once, stuck her head in the door and Jazz heard her ask, "Bill can I have the key to visit room 69?"
They kept walking until the finally came to the room. As soon as the door was shut, Psyc rounded on Jazz, "Where the hell have you been!" she demanded.
"Sit down," Jazz said. "This could take a while."
3 ½ weeks earlier
Jazz turned her back, walked away from the shelter and walked the few miles to the closest park. She needed to find some dogs to try to calm down after practically loosing the best friend that she had known since her parents died and the guy she saw as her big brother disappeared. It had been pretty much just the two of them for the past seven years.
Suddenly, she heard what she had been waiting for: the voices of the happiest animals in the world, dogs. Help me calm down! I might hurt someone! The four or five dogs in the park that day, that the kids usually met there because they didn't have anywhere to go, came running. Jazz got buried in a pile of fur and, a few hours later, fell asleep that way.
As it was getting dark, a twig snapped waking one of the dogs. It smells like adult people and gross! Like burnt tires!
What! and she was immediately on her feet, something she learned from her big brother and ground in by years on the street.
"Who's there?"
"Her reflexes are incredible."
"Thanks for the eval. but you will be dead in a few seconds if you don't state you name, rank and business."
"Okay, that sounds like someone we know."
"We're here to make you an offer," the first voice said.
"So who was it?" Psyc asked.
"This dude named Xavier. He took me to this mansion, gave me food, cloths, a bed and chores."
"So why'd you come back?"
"Why'd I… let me finish."
"So this is your place?"
"Yes, you can stay as long as you want and are free to leave as soon as you like, since you are almost eighteen and I have no real control over your actions. So, make yourself at home."
"I stayed for a few weeks to make sure it was okay and I found out that it was kinda cool. The people were, well, you know my opinion of people in general and they were probably the best I've met besides you and my bro. The place is really rich. I think this guy is like a millionaire and the house really shows it. The bikes outside. Lets go!"
"You've got a cycle license?"
"No…but since when has that stopped me? Let's go!"
"I can't."
"You…can't," she said skeptically.
"Exactly. I can't. At least, not without Sherry."
"Sherry?"
"PSYC!"
"Oh crap. How long have we been in here?"
"Little over an hour, why?"
Suddenly, Sherry burst into the room and glared at Psyc.
"You said 45 minutes" she accused "I thought maybe…"
"I also," Psyc said, "Said that if I was late you would be able to find me, right?"
"Right," Sherry said hanging her head.
"Hey, I promised I wouldn't leave you and I won't. Jazz, this is Sherry."
"So how'd you get the pipsqueak?"
Psyc launched into the story, with help from Sherry, and explained everything, on the way out the door. "And that's how it happened," Psyc said when she was done.
Jazz sighed. "Get on the bike now."
"You, too," she added, when Sherry got a look of horror on her face.
"So she can come?"
"Since when was it my choice?"
"It's you're bike…"
"What do you mean it's my bike?"
"Jazz, you didn't…"
"Of course I didn't. Buy a bike that is. Let's go."
"You're bad!" Psyc said laughing and climbed on the bike, pulling Sherry up between her and Jazz.
They got to the mansion at about ten the next morning. As soon as the bike stopped, Jazz climbed off and helped Sherry down. As they went in through the garage, Jazz muttered something about taking care of the bike, after she got a shower.
As they walked in, a semi-cute guy with brown hair and dark red glasses called, "About time you got back, Jazz! Did you get your friend?"
"No, I just decided to take a road trip, in the middle of winter, for the fun of it. Of course I got her dumb-ass, and a seven year old almost genius, too."
"What!" Jazz quickly explained what had happened when she got to the shelter, leaving out the girl's story, and then opened her mouth to introduce everyone, when the door burst in.
"Who the hell has been riding my bike!"
The speaker was about 5'9, with dark hair and eyes, and, obviously, a bad temper.
"Don't be dense, Logan," Scott said, and Jazz suddenly sat up straighter, "Everyone knows not to ride your bike."
"Well, Scott, obviously one of you forgot!" Logan yelled.
"Actually," Jazz said, before Scott could reply, "it was me."
Logan rounded on her. "You took it?"
"Yeah. Wanna make something of it?" Logan lunged for her, but the reflexes she had picked up from her brother held true and she was able to deflect the blow.
"God, you got slow!"
Suddenly, a scream from the corner caught all their attention and they turned. There was no one there.
Suddenly Psyc called, "Sherry, where are you?"
"I'm right here," Sherry answered. Everyone looked around, "Over here!" she called.
Suddenly Logan said, "She's invisible."
"I am not!" Sherry denied, and she wasn't. She was now quite visible standing in the corner.
Logan suddenly turned to Jazz. "What do you mean I got slow. How would you know?"
"Gee, you left me, then forgot me. I can just feel the love, so, I guess, I love you, too."
"Jazz, what are you talking about?"
"Remember the guy I told you about who became my surrogate big brother, you know, right after my parents died?"
"Ya…"
"Well…"
"Oh. You mean…"
"Ya…"
"He's shorter than you lead me to believe."
"Hey, I was ten. I was short. He seemed tall."
"Wait," Logan interrupted, "you can't be…she was killed in an explosion. And what's with the creepy twin thing?"
"What explosion? You left and never came back, so for the last seven years I've had to live on the streets, thanx, I really appreciate it," Jazz said furious.
"I suggest," said a new voice, "that if you wish to continue this conversation, you do it at a different time."
Both Jazz and Logan did a classic Japanese bow and said, "Sorry, Professor."
Jazz looked at Logan sideways and smirked.
"Not a problem. Now, Scott, show them to their rooms."
"This is great, isn't it?" Jazz asked.
"Ya, it's great but Sherry might be in here a lot during the day," and, as if on cue, Sherry walked in.
"Is it okay if I stay here, with you?"
"Okay, whatever," Jazz said throwing her arms up and then plopped on her bed, hitting the CD player.
When Psyc heard what song it was, she yelled, "Alright!" and slammed the door.
Psyc started dancing around the room with Sherry. When they passed Jazzes bed she grabbed her arm and pulled her into the dance.
"You don't have a choice," Psyc sent at her telepathically.
Soon all of them where having a good time. Just as the CD player sang out 'and beer for my horses', the door exploded inward.
Remy sat perched on a limb of the tree. He had been there for five or ten minutes when she walked in to the room. When the girl, Jazz, turned on the music and watched as the other two started to dance, his eyes where automatically drawn to Psyc. He had seen her before, of course, but he couldn't help it. It was more then she was beautiful, (which she was with waist-length hair that was black as obsidian, except for what would be her bangs, if they weren't the same length as the rest of her hair; those where blood red and as far as he knew it was natural, eyes that where the most vivid shade of emerald green he had ever seen, and the body of a goddess), it was also how she acted with his little angel. Still now that someone else was involved, a someone who didn't seem to like his angel very much, it was time for him to take her back. By the time the fifth song had come on he had made up his mind, he was getting her back. Now.
He jumped from the tree to the balcony when all their backs where turned. Then he slipped a charged card between the French doors. They blew open and the curtains billowed in the wind.
Jazz turned at the noise. When she saw a man standing there, dressed in black, red hair, red on black eyes, a tall, lean, muscular figure, with his trench coat billowing in the wind she immediately dropped into a fighting stance like she was taught. Psyc just glared and Sherry squealed and ran to him, hugging him around the leg like little kids tend to do when faced with someone twice their height.
"Who the hell are you?" Psyc yelled.
"It's Remy!" Sherry shrieked.
"Is that your real name?" Psyc asked and Jazz went up and poked him twice in the shoulder.
"Well, he's real," she said.
"I know he's real, I want to know if the name's real," she said exasperated.
Just then Logan walked into the room, without knocking. He paused, looked at the doors, then counted the people in the room, cocked his head, walked right back out again, closing the door behind him. There was silence in the room for a second, until the door burst open again.
Even Jazz jumped, and she was the only one who had any clue as to what he might do. Then he popped his claws and stormed up to 'Remy'.
"Who the hell are you?" he yelled.
"That's what I wanted to know!" Psyc yelled back, and then like it explained everything in the world, and to her it did, "It's Remy. Now is that a real name?"
"And how old are you?" Jazz added, looking him up and down.
"Se'enteen," he said in a heavy Cajun accent.
"Perfect. And a great accent, too."
"Now, get out of here before I turn you into a shishkabob," Logan growled.
"Oh sure, after seven years of not knowing I'm alive, you're just now turning into the protective big brother. How do you know I haven't been whoring myself on the streets?"
Logan's head snapped around to stare at her, Psyc stifled a laugh and Remy did a double take then said, "You haven't."
"How would you know?"
"Remy lived on de stree's w'ere you roamed 'mem'er, plus, peeple dat look like you two wulda bee' claim'd by de secon' day," he said.
Jazz stilled. "So, what is your real name?"
"Real subtle, Jazz," said Psyc openly grinning.
"I grew up with him, am I know for my subtlety? I mean, look at his entrance."
"Good point."
Remy looked around and said, suddenly worried, " Where's Cheriè."
"I don't know. She has a habit of disappearing into thin air. Especially when small, scary guys appear!" Jazz said pointedly towards one occupant of the room.
"Never mind that! We have more important things on our plate! Come on out honey, just concentrate," said Psyc. "Remember, you're not invisible."
"Nope," she said and reappeared but not before running up to Logan and kicking him in the shin. "Just hiding from him."
"Are you alright, mon cheriè?" Remy said.
"I'm fine."
Suddenly Psyc burst out, "So that's where she got it! It's not a name name its him calling her 'darling' in French!"
"You're not Sherry!" Jazz said faking astonishment and turned to Logan. "And what are you? A pansy assed cat? The things people say these days," she said shaking her head.
He turned and growled, causing Sherry to cower behind Gambit.
"Who. Are. You." he ground out, looking ready to pounce.
She didn't answer. In fact, she couldn't do anything but shake.
Gambit started to advance, ready to protect his young charge.
"Remy don like you. An when Remy don like s'mone, dey got prob'ms."
"Hot guy, bad habits. Well, you can't have it all."
"Unfortunately," Psyc agreed.
Logan was still growling and it looked like they were going to start a fight. Sherry hid behind Psyc, while Jazz jumped between the two and did the boxing countdown.
"Three, two, one, GO!" she yelled and jumped back, straight into the arm of a wheelchair, fell to the floor, looked up and asked, "Can I get you anything, sir. Hot towel, mint, massage? Massage—for that, you'd have to get someone else."
Please reveiw. Any comments welcome.