I'm back.  IMPORTANT.  FF-Net is on the rampage and I had to delete my little A.N. thing.  The story still goes 1-10 okay, but 11, 12, and 13 are seriously messed up.  #13 is the newest chapter.  #11 (the hated A.N. strike note) is now the chapter after ch 10...duh.  Why I'm mentioning that is because SOME people (aka over 100) forgot to read that chapter and skipped over to the lovely Remy chappie.  If you didn't read a chapter about Katherine, tattoos, and target practice; scoot over to "A New Side of De Filles" before you read this.  Don't argue, go.   

***

Thief of Spirits

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De Poor T'ief

***

            Katherine Pryde smiled up at Gambit.  A moment later, Kurt Wagner appeared and smiled as well.  "Fooled you," their grins seemed to say.  "We're alive and well.  Fooled you."

            The Cajun tossed the two photographs onto the dashboard.  The boy's image flipped around, but the girl's remained upright.  Her bright hazel eyes stared at him still, a reflection off the windshield.  Innocent, joyous eyes.  Remy suddenly had a craving for a cigarette, and he didn't even smoke.

            He opened the glove department and pulled one from the waiting carton.  Gambit stuck it in his lips and peeled off the thin lambskin gloves he had worn since marrying Rogue and placed them in a pocket.  Out of a different pocket by his left thigh, he withdrew his trademark "knuckle-gloves."  Remy never went barehanded on principle.  There were too many locks that his palm print was the key for and it was too easy to copy prints.  Still, complete, finger-covering gloves kept him helpless.

            Gambit pulled on the gloves, tapped the end of the tiny white stick with a bare finger, and sighed contentedly at that familiar little explosion.  He plucked it from his mouth and watched the embers burn.  As was his habit, he lent the tiny fire energy and then sucked it up again.  'Glow go up, glow go down,' he thought in a childish voice, remembering some cartoon.  If the thief could get his hands on the fuel of a fire, he could play with it.  Most times, it was impossible without receiving 2nd degree burns afterwards, but cigarettes were one exception. 

            'Glow go up, glow go down.'  The stream of smoke from the rapidly burning butt built up on the roof of the car and Mell cracked the passenger window.  LeBeau had forgotten the girl was there.  Remy called all the energy from the little piece of death, putting out the fire.  The little information thief was his responsibility, after all.  It wouldn't do shorten her life as a hacker under his employ.  Gambit shook his head.  Not at all.

            As the smoke cleared, LeBeau studied the half burnt down cigarette.  Funny thing about cigarettes and girls: they didn't last very long.  You lit one, took a few long drags, and suddenly it was spent.  Then you moved onto the next, drew another from the waiting carton and smoked that one down to nothing too.  That fact of life had seemed clear as day only a week before.

            Rogue -and now this Katherine, they seemed...Remy flipped the stick into the air and caught it in his fist.  Those two seemed worth keeping around for a while, or at least Rogue did.  Gambit hardly cared about a dead girl he had never met.  Filles died, they did it all the time.  Allan's wife, his own Mama and Grandmama, those girls...the Bella Donnas, they just burnt out.  Oh, some had been given some heavy drags and gone out sooner, but they all went out. 

            With a controlled toss, LeBeau got the cig between his index finger and his Finger again.  Darien had been a heavy smoker; he had smoked women gone.  He had stripped them until they had no name, no memory, nothing.  Was that what Remy was doing to his Petite?  She already had lost her name, her past.  How long until there was only a lovely white shell filled only by poisons, a damn cigarette?                    

            Remy looked sadly at the pure white paper of the butt.  What would happen when only the shell remained?

            "Gambit, why you kill dose kids?"

            The pretty white cigarette exploded.  The flying pieces burnt to dead ashes. 

The thief removed his shades and slowly cleaned off the cinders.  He placed them in yet another pocket and leaned back in the seat.  "For a genius, Mell," he mused aloud, "you are one stupid fille." 

            His eyes grew accustomed to the change in light and opened his eyes slightly.  LeBeau pulled out the gun from an inner pocket.  Trench coats were so useful that way.  He studied it like he had the cigarette, sliding off the safety after a moment.  "Dis was your sister's pistol.  Her name was...Moira, no?"  Gambit snapped his fingers.  "Name, Mell."

             "Marie."

            The Prince laughed, "Marie, yes!  Yo' sister Marie.  Stupid name for a pretty fille: Marie.  Gambit t'ink Bella Donna suited her better."

            Mell clutched the steering wheel.  "Bastard, you didn't..."

            The gun was in the hollow of her neck, pressed against her carotid artery.  Gambit imagined for a moment that the gun was checking the girl's pulse.  "Six chambers, five shots left," he stated plainly.  "De first go through Marie's pretty head.  If you want, Gambit can make it a family tradition to die by dis gun."

            Mell glared at him from the corner of her eyes.  "De rats would eat you alive, LeBeau.  Assumin' you didn't die in de car crash."

            "It impossible for Gambit to die in one of his papa's cars, fille.  An' Gambit can afford rat poison."  The thief smiled at Mell and drew the gun away.  "Now, unless you want to become one of dose dead Bella Donnas...Don'.  Be.  A.  Stupid.  Fille."  

            After a moment, the teenager slumped into her seat.  She turned at an intersection dully, without any of her usual debonair flair. 

            The thief returned the gun to a harmless setup and it disappeared back into his coat.  "Dat's Gambit's fille."  He picked up the two thick folders on the dead teenagers and threw them on the dashboard with the pictures.

            "Never give him dis kinda useless shit again.  Get talkin', you wastin' time."

            Mell turned another corner and took a breath.  "Katherine Anna Pryde, young teenager from de Chicago area," she recited.  "Went under Xavier's wing a few weeks ago.  Normal girl, Jewish.  Used to have a huntin' license, but she let it expire last winter.  Nothin'strange 'bout her background. 

            "Dis Wagner, he's de mystery.  Dere's nothin' on him until he got on a plane to de U.S. a few weeks ago.  No record.  From what I could gather, he was enrolled at Bayville High.  Alla Xavier's kids go dere.  De town –Bayville- is a couple of hours from de Big Apple."

            Gambit cut in, "Why were dey in Fairfield, Mississippi?"

            "My guess: dey were lookin' for someone.  Your Rogue or dat Mystique, I don't know.  I don't know what happened in de cemetery, but I do know dat Lilly's mausoleum crashed in on Katherine.  She survived just peachy, got taken home, and then disappeared two days ago.  De Professor can't find de Girl or Kurt.  De boy went missin' in de graveyard.  Dat's de problem, right dere.  If a telepath like Xavier canna find a person, den dey dead.  He finds out you were in Fairfield cemetery 'bout de same time and now he's here.  So now you in shit."

            She stopped the care at the side of the road.  "Dis is yo' stop, sir."  Gambit got out and looked up at the building in front of him.  Going into a hotel at three o'clock on a weekday.  Shit, was he in trouble.

            Gambit walked in and the hotel concierge perked up.  "Monsieur LeBeau, ze Professor expects you in ze Napoleon Suite in five minutes."  The young woman smiled at him.  "Any delay on your part will result in torture," she said brightly in her phony French accent.  Remy stared at her for a moment and then waved a hand in front of her face.  As he thought, there was no reaction.  The woman was just a marionette. 

            The puppet snatched his hand suddenly.  She reached into his breast pocket and withdrew his sunglasses.  "Monsieur, I must insist you wear zis during your stay.  Do not go out of zis hotel without zem.  Zere is no need to draw unwanted attention, no?"  She grinned so wide, it made her face disturbing and terrifying.  Remy began to see why some people were afraid of clowns.  There was something horrible and fake about an overextended smile.  It made the eyes grow bright and maniacal.

            "Have a nice day, Monsieur LeBeau," she beamed.  "If you survive your meeting that is." 

            The woman shook her head dazedly and released Remy.  He hastily covered his eyes with the shades.  After a moment, she regained composure and smiled warmly at Remy.  "Good afternoon, Monsieur.  Can I help you?"

            "Oui...yes.  I must meet a business associate of mine in the Napoleon Suite in approximately four minutes and twenty-two seconds.  If I could have directions and quickly?  It would be best if I weren't late."

            Four minutes and twenty seconds later, Remy was on the seventh floor, rapping on the suite's door.  The door opened and he was dragged inside.  Pinned up against the wall, his feet an easy eighteen inches above the floor, the thief looked down at the feral man he had only seen in old photographs.  The wild mutant had a deadly air about him that no brown and white picture could capture.

            "Put Mr. LeBeau down, Logan," a voice called from deep inside the suite.

            Rather put out, the Wolverine threw Remy clear into the sitting room.  The thief prince took his time getting up.  Why had it had to be in a hotel?  Hundreds of feet off the ground on a deserted floor was the worst place to be in a situation.  Every door was locked and even he needed some time to break a hotel lock.  At least he had a key card was in his inside pocket...

            The key card flew out of his pocket towards the next room.  A moment later, a kindly looking, bald man wheeled into the lounge, examining the bit of technology in his hands.  After a bit of deliberation, the man snapped the card in two.  Remy felt a hand grip his shoulder brutally, just a little too close to the neck.  In seconds, the prince found himself shoved into a chair facing the handicapped person he assumed was Professor Charles Xavier.  The Wolverine -Logan- took a spot standing behind Remy. 

            Remy admitted defeat.  The two had blown his chances out of the water.  He slumped into the uncomfortable armchair.  His shades had gone askew in the rough handling and he reached to put them back in place. 

            Again, the shades flew away.  They were shattered in midair by some unseen force.  "Shit."

            The Professor smiled coldly.  "Yes, that does sum up your situation quite well."

He waved a hand and two photographs found their way in front of Remy.  The first was of Miss Pryde, but the second shocked him a little.  A blue demon looked at the thief mournfully.

            "My students," Xavier said unnecessarily.  "Katherine "Kitty" Pryde and Kurt Wagner.  Both very intelligent and compassionate children with unrivaled potential.  Now that latent talent may never be awakened.  Quite likely, neither will you, come morning."

            Remy didn't bother to hide the fear that the horribly veiled threat gave him.

            "Come now, dis don't have to come to blood."  The thief hesitated a moment and then added, "Sir."

            Charles shrugged his shoulders.  "Yes, I suppose you are right, Mr. LeBeau."  The animal behind Remy's chair made a disappointed sound.

            "I could just reach out and stop your heart," the Professor continued nonchalantly.  Remy winced. 

            Logan laughed.  "I know a few ways ta skin swamp rats without spillin' blood, Prof."  A set of adamantine blades burst through the chair, a bare inch from Remy's face.  "It'll be tough, but I love a challenge."

            "Now Logan, there is no need..."  LeBeau blocked out Charle's next words.  It was pointless, he had recognized the pattern.  The Wolverine was being made up as the man-eating beast and the Professor as the one holding the fiend's collar.  Xavier could either drag the animal away from Remy or sick it on him, depending on his mood.  The thief knew exactly which mood the professor was in.

            Remy stood up abruptly to walk out the door.  Logan was on him immediately.  A second later, his shredded trench coat was thrown across the room and he was flat on his back.  A black boot pinned his chest to the floor.

            Charles shook his head.  "Why did you do that, my boy?"

            Remy replied, "Figured we'd...skip de fancy maneuverin' an'...get down to de action."            

            Logan hauled the Cajun to his feet.  "Fine by me, bub."  Blades shot from his knuckles and Remy backed away.  "Upgrades," he said shakily, then dove to avoid decapitation.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

            Something troubled Cara.  "Rogue?"

            The girl looked at her new friend, startled at the sound of her name.  Rogue had zoned out yet again.  "Yeah?" she replied belatedly.

            They walked through the street, that boy Jimmie watchdogging them from several feet behind.  Or watching Rogue, rather.  Cara got the distinct impression that the strange little boy disliked her.  Jimmie watched  Rogue and death glared her.

            Cara ignored the holes those disconcerting blue eyes were boring into her skull and smiled at the teenager.  For some reason, the whole group of Remy's people believed his lie that Rogue was eighteen.  It should have been obvious, but they all overlooked it.  They overlooked several things regarding the smooth talking Cajun, in fact.  "This Remy, he's very interesting," she said cautiously. 

            "Yes, well that's one way ta put it," Rogue answered, still a little dazed.  Cara was a little annoyed, but then she thought of how she would have reacted if those blood red eyes had stared at her.  She would have become a shivering mass on the floor. 

            The woman tried another tactic.  "How did you two meet?"

            Rogue glanced back at Jimmie, who kicked at a pebble rhythmically, seemingly lost in thought.  Lowly, she said, "I was in a spot of trouble up north.  Remy dragged me outta it."

            Cara laughed, hiding her uneasiness at that comment.  Sarcastically, she asked, "What, he came in riding atop a gallant white horse?"

            "More like on a bat outta Hell," the girl muttered back.

            Behind them, the sound of pebble on concrete grated at Cara's nerves.  It was a scraping that just wouldn't stop.  "Doesn't he seem a little...intense?"

            "More than you think, Cara."

            "Don't mind my asking, but what do you see in him anyway?"

            Rogue looked away, apparently at a loss for words.  "Remy he..."  Another glance back towards the little boy.  "He's...honorable, in his own way.  Committed."

            "Hmm, sounds like a business partnership," Cara breezed.  "Try again."

            The teenager grew a little flustered.  "I...feel comfortable around him."

            "One: that's a blatant lie.  Two: that's the best friend rep.  You're comfortable with me, not this Remy chap."

            Rogue clenched her gloved hand.  "I can be mahself with Remy.  No secrets."

            "Why won't you just answer the question?"

            "Because I don't know!," she snarled.  "I'm with Remy an' that's all there is to it.  Why do yah even care?"

            Cara stared back at Rogue's glare, shocked.  "Because you look lonely in his arms," she said softly after a minute.  "Dazed, enchanted by those eyes, but lonely.  You don't fit there, with Remy, among these people.  Please leave, for your own sake."

            Rogue glared at her.  "I am an adult an' I choose how to spend mah life, Cara."

            The woman laughed darkly, "You expect me to believe that lie, kid?"

            The scrape of the stone stopped abruptly and they both looked back at an incredulous Jimmie.  "Rogue is eighteen," he said forcefully, as if saying it would make it true.  He caught Cara's eyes with his own shocking pair and repeated the lie. 

            She felt the faint twinge that signaled a headache and glared back at him.  "What is it with you people?  Furtive glances and secrets and the childish idea that I should believe everything you tell me.  You are children!"  She picked up a rock and hurled it into the wall of the deserted alley.  It made an impressive crack against the old brick and an even more impressive dent.  She looked back at Rogue, completely ignoring the boy.  "Come with me Rogue.  I'll take you to my hotel, call your parents, and get you home."  She held out her hand.

            Rogue hesitated.  "You don't understand," she whispered.

            "No, you don't.  Come with me, get away from this Remy before he hollows you out completely.  You still have a life to go back to."

            "I don't have a life ta go back to," the girl argued.  Nevertheless, her leather clad hand crept towards Cara's outstretched one.  The woman felt compassion for the poor girl.  "Are you afraid, of him?  Believe me, I can protect you, get you back home.  Will you come with me?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

            Rogue stood, watched expectantly by so many eyes.  Blue Boy nodded at her.  He sat on a couch in some living room.  People, three kids and three adults, appeared around him.  All different in every way possible, the group became one family as they talked and laughed silently.  Then they disappeared.  *Go, Rogue.  Family, even one as demented as mine, is priceless.  Don't run from it.*  He sighed and clicked the remote.  The same people from before appeared on the TV screen, but Kurt wasn't with them.  He watched them sadly.

            Matt whispered, *I really liked you, Rogue, if that's what you wanna be called now.  I still do.  So does tha real me, I know it.  Go.* 

            Martin didn't "say" anything, but a heartrending picture of a little boy and his mother appeared briefly.

            The strange wolf-dog just licked her hand, and tried to nudge her real body towards Cara with its mental one.

            *Don't even think about it Rogue.  Gambit would kill me if I let you go.*  She started at Jimmie's voice in her head.  She had thought there was something more to the boy after what Remy had said, but not...

            Rogue shook her head, dazed.  She looked at Jimmie and smiled.  "Hey, how 'bout a movie, Jimboy?" she said, using Remy's affectionate term.  She took the boy's hand, not noticing the woman shouting at him as they walked away.  Unfortunately, Jimmie didn't notice Cara either until she bashed his head with a rock, the same one she had thrown at the wall.

            The girl looked from the fallen child to the woman in shock.  "Why tha Hell didya do that!"  Cara looked back with a different sort of shock on her face. 

            Far away, Rogue heard a voice in her head.  Kurt shouted, but it was faint, as if he had been shoved down some deep dark hole.  Slowly, he grew close enough for her to hear him even if she couldn't understand a word.  *...Verdammt ihm, den kleinen Teufel!  Scheiße...*  It went on and on in lightning fast German, or at least she thought it was German.

            Matt appeared as well, apparently breathless.  *I am goin' ta kill that little Bastard.  He tried ta drown me!*  He did seemed a little soaked.  He knelt and tried to work a vicious muzzle off the dog.  The silvery animal hobbled, holding aloft a snapped paw. 

            Martin was nowhere to be found in her mindscape.  She went in on herself and looked for the monster who was just remembering how to be a man.  She found him huddled in a replica of the hallway where they had first met.  He curled up against the wall like that poor boy had.  Rogue put a hand on the brute's knee and he looked up.  Martin's eyes were mournful and absolutely terrified.  He turned abruptly into the small child he had been before Knave destroyed him.  She took the boy in her arms and comforted him.  The landscape shifted and they were back in that green abyss Rogue thought of as her mind's home base.

            Rogue looked up at the boys -and the dog- questioningly.  "What tha Hell happened?"

            Cara answered, switching Rogue's attention back to the real world.  "That little Bastard tried to control you.  Thank God his tricks didn't work on me.  Couldn't get through my skin, I suppose."  She took the teenager's arm, leaving Rogue wondering what Cara's skin had to do with anything.

            Realizing she was being dragged away, the girl broke out of the older mutant's grasp.  "Please don't tell me that mind-hold works when the little devil is unconscious!" Cara cried.

            Rogue went back to Jimmie.  "Of course not.  But we can't just leave 'im here!"  Cara groaned.  She hurried over to the boy, picked him up like a rag doll, and told Rogue to get going.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

            Remy dodged again.  Wolverine crashed into the door he had been standing in front of.  The door flew open and he fell inside.  Then he barreled back into the hall at the thief.  Remy dodged again, but not completely.  Wolverine gutted his shoulder.  It hurt worse than ten hells combined, but the Cajun could still use the arm so he didn't care. 

            He sprinted though the into the open hotel room and slammed the door.  Remy turned the deadbolt and put on the chain for good measure.  Then he ran.  It would only stop Logan for seconds.  He rushed towards the set of two doors that connected the room to its partner.  Opening the first door he, raised his foot and waited for the perfect moment.  Remy timed his kicking open the second flimsy door to coincide with the Wolverine's first crash at the front door.  Hastily, the thief closed both doors, fully knowing that it wouldn't hide his presence in the room one bit.  Again, any barrier between him and those claws helped.  That done, the prince rushed out of room 743 just as Logan disappeared into 745. 

            Remy ran down the hall as quietly as he could, hoping it wasn't a dead end.  He needed help.  'Jimmie!' he shouted out with his head as he reached a door to a staircase.  Some unseen force -Xavier- froze his hand mere inches from the doorknob.  He was thrown back into the wall and his head collided with the glass case of the hall's fire extinguisher.  Dizzy and stunned, Remy scrambled to his feet.  'Jimmie!' he called again, frantic. 

            *Jimmie, whoever that is, could not hear you if he tried, Mr. LeBeau.*  The enormous voice made Remy want to scream.  As it was, he clutched at his head.  The pain stopped and Remy looked up in time to see the Wolverine's de-clawed fist knock him clean into next Tuesday.  The weather forecast for that day had been right: 60 degrees, a light breeze, very sunny.  But for Remy it was all dark and very, very cold.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*                            

            Rogue sat in the cab, wondering at the chaos that had become her life.  Cara sat besides her, cradling the unconscious Jimmy like he was her own son who had just dozed off.  The teenager had just gotten used to being a mutant and being in New Orleans and being Remy's wife.  Now she was sucked up into the tornado again and who knew which Oz it would blow her to next?

            She gripped the seat and squeezed the tan leather.  She had just started to think she liked, maybe loved Remy.  Now she didn't know how much the mind controlling freak had made up.  If Jimmie had been under Remy's employ, how many of the others were too?  Were sweet Caleigh and motherly HL just actresses?  It hurt Rogue to think of it.  She just wanted to go home and forget. 

            They got out of the cab and Rogue looked up at the hotel.  They walked through the glass doors and a clerk turned towards them.  She smiled and said, "Excuse me, Mademoiselles, but is your room on ze seventh floor?"

            Cara frowned and nodded.

            "We are sorry, but that floor has been closed off momentarily.  If you would wait in ze lobby."  The clerk stared blankly into space for a moment and then smiled.  "Is there anything I can help you with?"  Rogue and Cara shared a look.  They now recognized what that moment of zoning out meant: mind control.  They smiled back and said no.  They then went straight towards the elevator. 

            In the fancy glass elevator cage, Rogue went to hit the 7, but Cara shook her head.  "Hit the 8," she said.

            One elevator ride and a flight of stairs later, they were in the hall.  They stared at the broken door of 735.  Rogue shrugged, "I guess we were just paranoid.  They closed it off 'cause a thief was in here."  Cara adjusted the boy in her arms to get at her room key.

            "Better safe than sorry," she mumbled, searching through an over large pocket on her pants leg.  After a moment, she triumphantly pulled the plastic card out and plunked it into the slot of 734.  Inside, she dumped Jimmie into a chair and gestured for Rogue to go to the phone.

            Rogue's hand hovered over the keypad, unable to get any closer to the buttons that would take her home.  Cara looked at her sympathetically.  "Should I place the call?"  The girl nodded mutely. 

            Cara punched in the number her friend gave her and waited barely half a ring before someone picked up.  "Hello?" she asked after there was silence for a moment.

            *Yes, please put Rogue on the line,* a voice said, muddled up by heavy static.  Cara stared at the earpiece for a moment and then slammed it back down onto the cradle.  She opened her mouth to explain to Rogue, but she waved it off.  The girl smiled sadly, "I heard.  What do we do now?"

            "Get you out of New Orleans," the woman answered resolutely.

            Rogue smiled more mournfully than she had before.  "I know that, but how do we keep me out of New Orleans?" she said.

            "Sorry, Kid, but yer not getting' out in the first place."  Both females looked up at the burly man in the open doorway.  He strode in and growled as Cara pulled Rogue behind her.  "Move, Bitch," he ordered.  She rolled up her sleeves.

            The man rolled his eyes and barked, "Charles!"  Cara gasped and then promptly fell to the floor.  She was out cold; apparently her skin wasn't thick enough to stand against that Charles person.  He grabbed Rogue roughly by her arms behind her back.  Helpless, she was dragged out the door and through another. 

            She looked around at the destroyed suite.  A fight had taken place there recently or she was a cheerleader.  Martin started to coach her through how to get out of the brute's grasp, but he was suddenly silenced.  All alone, Rogue was led to a chair and gently deposited in it.  She couldn't help but notice the puncture in the chair's back.  She gulped, unable to prevent the concession of her fear.

            "Now, now my girl," a voice from across the coffee table reassured.  Rogue looked at the handicapped men smiling at her, his hands forming a steeple by his chin.  "I have no intentions to hurt you."  The you was so pointed that she wondered aloud exactly who he did want to hurt.

            "Remy LeBeau," he replied calmly, gesturing towards the broken man in the corner.

***         

            Phew, one of my longer ones, but I couldn't bear to cut it off until everyone was happily unconscious and I could give a slightly less cruel cliff hanger.  Wait a second...amend that to devastatingly cruel cliff hanger.  Again, I have made created more questions than I answered.  Don't y'all hate me? 

***

Review Responses (Well lookie here, it's back!)

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Gothic Cajun:  Allan was going to bronze the pregnancy test.  Basically, have it dipped in metal and then display it on a shelf for eternity.  I would be a little ticked off too.  How did I think of that?  I know a guy who had his first used condom bronzed.  Let's just say I didn't stop washing my hands for a week.  (Okay, that's a lie, but I really wish I could have seen all your faces)   

Devilgoth:  My guesses are "Fade to Black" and "Eye of the Beholder."  Then again, "Sad but True" and the "The Unforgiven" could work too.  "Sanitarium" seems to fit Lizzy and (LeBeau/the Prince of Thieves/Remy /Logan's punching bag/Gambit/Rogue's husband/whoever the hell he is tomorrow) a bit too well though.  Oh well, TELL ME THE ANSWER! 

Tokyobabe2040:  Yes, I do write for the pure pleasure (and to spite this idiot Chad who says all art is done for money... nasal monotone speaking, male chauvinist, stuck in the Dark Ages BASTARD. . .sorry)  Anyway, I love all my stories and I just wish people would give them a shot.  I tend to devote more time to stories that are reviewed, so guess, just guess where I have been putting all my writing energy.  

Kazzeh Sodapop:  Did this chapter answer your Xavier question?  If not, I'm taking one more shot at it next chappie

Lonewolf:  My brother is still a baby, so yes, I am basically screwed

AC:  Sorry, I can promise nothing on the tragedy bit.  Several ideas are currently holding audition in my mind and only a few are in the "Romy 4ever" category.  I am leaning towards one such plot at the moment but I never know what tomorrow will bring.                                    

Star_of_Chaos:  Damn you, I did imagine.  Yikes.  Never, never tell a person with an overactive imagination to think about that.  If you didn't know I was afflicted with an O.I., then now you know.  Now I might actually have to write it, but you've seen how I can twist ideas.  Remy = "manic, dark Gambit" is my most obvious example at the moment.  In any case, I'm holding onto the PG-13 rating for dear life at the moment.  Can I write two versions of the same story: one PG-13 and the other R?  I definitely would add some things if that were OK and even change a couple subplots in the R version.  And the ending, of course.  I just can't fight my way through the illegal actions list to figure out whether I can though.  I'm trying but it looks like Latin to me.

Whew, I'm done.  "Eter...oh please, can't I?  I haven't said it for such a long time."

Hoggle: *Oh, all right!  But don't expect a big reaction.*

"Oh, no, no.  Of course not."  Clears throat.  "Eternity Out." 

Unfortunately, Jareth spots my exit and traps me in a crystal dream.  We dance and he sings about my crystalline eyes.  Hey...that's a fortunately.  Gang way people, I have a wish to make regarding my snot nosed baby brother.  How does it go again?  "I wish the Goblins would come and take you away...Damn.  I can never remember that line." 

; -D

(I'm a Labyrinth junkie.  Who knew?)

...Oh yeah.  "I wish the Goblins would come and take you away right now."  The cries from the baby monitor stop suddenly (I'm not kidding)  Shit, I have go check on the baby.  My parents are out of town. 

The keyboard begins typing by itself.  The Authoress rushes up the basement stairs, too much in a hurry to notice.  Unbeknownst to her, the Goblin King laughs in the baby's room, the rich sound coming through the abandoned baby monitor.

The mouse moves by itself at the sound of its master's voice, sending the girl's final update onto the net.  There is, after all, nothing the King loves more than leaving mortals in suspense...