Meeting the Garrons

XXX

"How are you feeling, Warren?" his eyes flicked toward hers, then back to his hands.

"Are you asking out of common courtesy or do you really want to know?"

"I really want to know," she scooted closer to him. "You know you can tell me the truth."

"Then if I tell you, I can expect a truthful reply to my questions?"

"Of course. Especially if it's 'What the hell were you doing in the Japanese Gardens with Wolverine?'"

"It isn't right to go into my mind like that whenever you like, Chase." He muttered.

"I didn't. You're just about as easy to read as a book, War." She took his hand in hers, turned it palm-upward, and stroked her cool, pale fingers across it soothingly.

"I just. . .I know nothing was HAPPENING, but I just. . .why couldn't you have come to me?"

"Because Logan wanted to know what was going on, and instead of indulging myself, I was indulging the Phoenix for once."

"I see." He lowered his eyes. "What did you talk about?"

"About Nathan, mostly."

"And?"

"And that's all. I was worried about him, I felt guilty for rampaging across his mindscape like that. He let me bleed out some of my frustrations, that's all."

"Oh?"

"You said yourself that you know that nothing's HAPPENING between Logan and I. Nothing ever will. He's just. . .not my type."

"If he came on to you, would you. . .ah . . ."

"Of course not! Warren, where do you get off?!" she demanded, sitting up and pushing him away. "You asshole! What's your problem? What, so insecure that. . .look. Never mind."

"What?"

"I. . .I understand you may feel a certain way toward me. . ."

"Look, it's nothing, Chase. Just infatuation. It'll go away. I'm just. . .on edge. Like I said, I need to get away."

"I know. God, first Wisdom, then you, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I'll miss you," she returned to her customary position, cradled in his arms. "So much. You're. . .you're very important to me, Warren."

"All right." He shrugged. "I suppose I can get through a couple weeks without you." He laughed. "What the hell! Tell you what, Chase, I'll find a pretty English girl to fall in love with, okay?"

"Sounds healthy. But don't force yourself, and don't just hook up because she reminds you of Betsy, all right?"

"Spoken like a true therapist." He nodded solemnly.

"I'll miss you,"

"You just said that."

"I'm saying it again, because I mean it."

"You're cheapening your own words through repetition." He shrugged, leaned in to smell her hair. "But I'll miss you, too."

"Hrm. What exactly are you going to do in England, anyhow?"

"I'm a financial mogul, Chase. I have business."

"Yeah. This sucks. What am I going to do without you?"

"How flattering. Once I've found a purpose in life, you've lost yours. It's almost as though you need me to get on with yourself."

"In a manner of speaking," she shrugged. "Look, Warren. . .I don't want things to seal up between us. It's a good thing that you're detaching yourself from me because I'm an emotional crutch. But on the other hand, I don't want. . .God, this is going to sound so bourgeois. I don't want to lose you."

He grinned and took her hand in his, their palms flat against each other. "You won't. I promise." Detaching himself from her, he stood up and grabbed a towel, heading for the bathroom. "Look, my flight's this evening. I guess I'll see you in two weeks or so."

"Yeah. Two weeks or so." She stood up, and grabbed him by the collar.

"What?"

"I. . .I love you, Warren." She pressed her lips fiercely to his, and buried her face in his shoulder before he could react. "Just be careful."

"I will." He grinned lopsidedly, and she fell away from him. They didn't see one another again before he left.

XXX

"Smells like Boston in summer," quipped Wisdom dubiously, squinting at his companion.

"It IS Boston in summer, y' stupid Brit." Gambit hissed, taking a long drag off his cigarette.

"Hand me that fag, will yer?" Wisdom reached for the cancer-stick, but the Cajun batted him away.

"Y' touch me un mo' time, I'll tear yo' face off, mon ami. Can' b'lieve Scooter sent me on dis mission wit' y'."

"Neither can I. Now look, stand still, I've gorra send a letter fer Chase."

"Why can' de pétite fille sen' 'er own mail? Dis is 'umiliatin'. Look at dose hommes, dey be tryin' t' pick Remy up, jes' cause 'e's wit' some chainsmokin' bastard Brit."

"Look, the postman's comin', I'd better get the package inter th' box before 'e clears it out." Wisdom hurried toward the box, and slipped the bulky letter into the mail-slot before the truck made it down the street. "C'mon, this is ridiculous. We'd better get on our way." He narrowed his eyes at LeBeau. "I need a drink."

"No, we're goin' t' meet dis homme whedder y' like it or not."

"They say he's only eighteen. He won't 'ave a decanter of scotch in 'is office, an' I need scotch ter stay lucid, LeBeau."

"Shut up an' let's get movin'." The two men hopped into Gambit's sleek red Porsche and zoomed off toward the centre of town, to an ominous skyscraper with the words "Garron International/Ward Law Firm" engraved on a plaque. "Dis homme be on'y eighteen an' 'e's already passed de bar? An' owns 'is own firm?"

"Yeh, 'e's somethin' of a miracle-genius or somesuch nonsense. Come on, let's just get this over with." Wisdom pushed past his partner and into the building, where they took the elevator up to the 23rd floor. The young man in the lounge was talking simultaneously on two phones, but as they entered, he glanced up and raised a brow.

"Are you lost?" he inquired curtly, in a posh northeastern accent.

"We're 'ere ter see Ward Garron. I'm Pete Wisdom, an' this is Remy LeBeau." The Brit muttered, yanking the cigarette from between Remy's lips and taking a drag before he stubbed it out and placed it in an ashtray.

"I'm sorry, your appointment was pushed back to three-thirty. Weren't you notified?"

"Lissen, homme, we be 'ere on behalf of Xavier's Institute fo' Higher Learning. Why don' y' tell dat t' yo' employer an' send us some café au lait, hein?" Gambit cut in smoothly, his eyes narrowing behind his Ray-Bans.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Garron is in a meeting with his parents. I'm afraid you'll have to wait another half-hour." The clerk muttered crisply, pointedly ignoring the scathing looks Wisdom was none too subtly shooting him.

"We'll wait, den, but I'd be much obliged if y'd jest inform 'im of our presence." Gambit turned toward the waiting area, then stopped, and retraced his steps. "An' hurry up wit dat café au lait." Wisdom trailed him to the lounge and poked him as they sat.

"What the fuck wuzzat you inbred Cajun bastard?!"

"Dat was called intimidation, as if y'd never done any o' dat back in Black Air." The redheaded bio-kinetic bomb eased back into an easy chair and grinned slyly at Wisdom. "I'll give dis homme," he nodded toward the receptionist, "two minutes, tops."

"Before?"

"Befo'e 'e cracks an' goes t' get Garron."

"An' wot makes yer think 'e will?"

"Xavier's un of de forefront political activists on mutan' rights in de worl', Wisdom. Don' y' watch de news?"

"An' wot's this got ter do wif this lad, Garron?"

"Did y' not read de briefin' on dis mission?" Remy threw his hands up in frustration. "Bot' Ward an' Shields Garron be mutants. An' dey need representation, mon ami. Fast."

"In't this a law firm? They can represent themselves."

"Not in a political arena." LeBeau shrugged. "Look, 'e may be un of de most famous lawyers dis side o' Beantown, but dat ain' gonna be recognized in an International Court. An' since y' obviously 'ave no idea what dey be goin' t' court for, I'll tell y'." he took a breath, gearing up to supply Wisdom with all the information he neglected to read over before they went out into the field, when a woman strode up to them. She was in her late thirties, leggy, blonde, and had obviously gone in for more than her share of botox injections.

"Mr. Wisdom, Mr. LeBeau, Mr. Garron will see you now."

"Merci," Remy stood smoothly, shooting an I-told-you-so look at his partner. The two men followed the secretary into a plush office where a young man was embracing two women.

"I'll see you later, mum." He said to one, then turned and hugged the other warmly. "Love you, mum." Wisdom's jaw dropped, and LeBeau's eyes sparkled.

The two women turned, and smiled politely at their son's visitors before leaving silently. Wisdom and LeBeau turned toward the remaining man. "Ward Garron," he smiled, extending a hand to both of them. Instantly, and out of long habit, the two X-Men studied their subject momentarily.

Ward Garron was a couple inches shy of six feet, but he was built like a swimmer, with powerful shoulders and a narrow torso and legs, which made him seem taller at a distance. His skin was very pale and his hair very black, worn combed back in a manner that seemed inconstant with the boyish, prepossessing features the youth had. His eyes, oddly mismatched, the left blue and the other black, were wide, sitting beneath a wide, innocent brow. His nose was long and slim, irregular, but charming. His jaw seemed not to have lost the roundness of youth, but looked to soon turn toward sharpness. His lips, full and dark red, gave him the general appearance of beauty, but when he smiled, they thinned into an expression that was nearly savage.

As the three men sat, Ward offered them scotch, which Wisdom eagerly accepted. "I apologize," he began, "for the delay. That was my mother, Malice Garron, and her sister, Lel Garron. They both raised me, and have nearly synonymous roles in my upbringing."

"Dat's understandable," Gambit said quietly, suddenly subdued.

"For th' first order o' business," Wisdom picked the ball up quickly, "Why don't yer explain t' us why yer require Xavier's support in this venture o' yers?"

"Indeed." Garron looked at the both of them incisively. "I've no doubt that you've been informed that I am an adopted child. I've grown up knowing it, and it's never really meant anything to me. In fact, I was always the pampered one, as opposed to my elder brother, Shields, whom I've no doubt you'll meet some time today. The thing is, I've only recently discovered that members of my biological family are still living, and to get hold of my papers, that is, to know who my parents are, and to know my original name, I must register as a mutant, which would put myself as well as my firm in jeopardy."

"An' how can Xavier's help yer?" Wisdom leant back and steepled his fingers.

"Xavier is at the forefront of mutant rights activism. If I could somehow become involved in your organization, and if he were a part of my representation in an International Court, perhaps the blow to my reputation would be softened." Remy's quick glance at Pete was not gone undetected by Garron. "I'm willing to become an active supporter of Xavier's Institute. I already have a donation of 2.5 million dollars on its way to the Institute's accounts. I'm willing to give more, to parade in the streets, to volunteer at the school, anything! I NEED your support, and I'm willing to give mine, as well."

"We at Xavier's appreciates de fact dat y' be layin' y'r cards on de table, an' we're certain we c'n benefit one anoder in many ways."

"However, we'll 'ave ter continue t' be very frank with each other if we're to co-operate well."

"In fact, I'm delighted you've gotten to this subject so fast." Ward leaned forward and folded his hands. "Co-operation is precisely what this meeting is about. I was surprised when informed that you were the people Xavier was sending for this meeting, but I suppose this is precisely what is needed." Wisdom and Gambit both lifted a brow, and tensed their stomachs, preparing for whatever was coming next. "In fact, the proposition I'd like for you to carry back to Xavier is this." He pulled a sheaf of papers from his desk and turned it toward the two men. "I'd like it if you'd look over this proposition, and seriously consider it."

"Of course. I'm certain it'll be reasonable." Wisdom grinned.

XXX