~~Well, this is it for now.

If you have any suggestions, requests, rants, or raves please share them.  I'm pretty much open for anything at this point, although I have a few storylines I want to keep with.  I should return with the rest of "Here's to the Good Life" by August, at the absolute latest.

Sunday Bloody Sunday – Part 2

"Firemen and paramedics are still responding to the call at the New York Museum of antiquities.  Unconfirmed reports state that a leaking gas pipe in the upper floor fueled the explosion that has left four dead and at least one other injured."

"I did not want this."  Charles said as he turned off the television in his study, halting the reporter's progress.  "Eric this is getting out of hand."

Magnus sipped his drink.  "More will die if Apocalypse is awakened."

"But does that justify this?"  The Professor asked looking up at his hardened partner, still twirling his glass of untouched Bourbon.

"No."  Eric dismissed.  "But you are comparing this world to an ideal creation.  I am looking at reality."  He sighed raising himself from his seat.  "Losses are expected, and I had much rather they be my competitor's than my own."

"Eric, you talk of them as if they were cattle."

"I talk of them as if they were soldiers."  He replied sternly.  "Despite what you may think of humans, Gambit was fighting a war.  They were using force from the beginning."  Magnus sighed.  "If Gambit had been a human with a gun like them would that be different?"

Charles remained quiet while looking into his glass.

"I believe what Gambit said happened."  Eric paused, finishing his drink and setting the highball glass onto the Professor's wood desk.  "Even if I didn't it wouldn't matter, my son was in there, and they saved each others lives."

~~~:*:~~~

He stepped into the dark hallway, the white bandages across his chest reflecting what little light there was floating in the quiet night.  He stood still, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.  Eventually, picking up on the accents of the wall and floor he padded towards the elevator.

"And just where do you think you are going?"

He stopped immediately, as the light from McCoy's office came on, flooding into the hallway.  "Out."  He said as he turned to face the speaker.

Kitty put her hands oh her hips and tried her best to deliver one of Rogue's 'death glares'.  "Let me guess.  I'm big and strong and not really hurt anyway."  She came out of the office and pointed at the bandages across his chest.  "Well Dr. McCoy told me you had a cracked rib and a torn muscle in your back."

Piotr looked down at the blue-eyed girl.  "That's not it."

"Well, what then?"  Kitty looked up at Piotr.  "Dr. McCoy left me here to watch you two, and if you want to get past me it had better be a good excuse."

"Pietro is awake."  He offered as he pressed the button for the elevator.  "And already very bored."

"Oh."  She looked at the floor, and then at the elevator.  "Where are we going?"

"I am just walking."

"Okay."  She agreed as the elevator doors opened up.  "Mind if I come with you?"

"No."  He responded, and she followed him in.

The ride was quiet, neither of them speaking.  Kitty could tell he was in pain by the way he silently shifted his weight from one side to the other.  As the doors opened into the bottom levels of the institute he winced as he stepped out. 

"You okay?"  She asked as she joined him, walking along side through the dark house.

"Yes."  He simply replied.

"How's Pietro?"

"Fine."

"I see."  They kept walking.  "Remy?"

"Fine."  Piotr answered.  "He was uninjured."

"You sure you're okay?"  Kitty asked once more.

"Yes, it will heal."  He placed a hand on his side of the bandages.

"I didn't mean that."

He looked over and down at her.  "What do you mean then?"

"Remy and Pietro were almost gunned down."  Kitty wrapped her arms around herself as they stopped in the living room.  A chill ran up her spine, she didn't know if it was the creepiness of the moonlight softly lighting the expansive living room, or the fact that the mission could have ended up much, much worse.

"But they were not."  He reiterated, looking at the girl's dispirited expression.

"I know,"  She rubbed one hand up and down her bare arm.  "But people are, people are dead because we broke into that place."

*She is so innocent.*  He thought, and tried his best to explain.  "It was a simple situation, kill or be killed, Remy knows this."

Her expression went from sunken to frustration.  "I was worried about all of you okay!"  She confessed, and her voice softened.  "I was worried about you."

Her entire body went into a dejected posture.  The moonlight on her face illuminated the mixture of worry, sadness and hurt.  For the first time in his life, Piotr felt compelled to say something.  "Kitty I…"

"Don't ask me anything okay…"  She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him and laid her head softly against his bandaged chest.  "Just stay here for a while."

The quiet giant said nothing, but wrapped two arms around the girl pressed against him and held her in the darkness.

~~~~~

"What you so gloomy for?"  The soft Cajun accent floated in the air. 

She felt Remy's question reverberate out of his chest.  She leaned back into him further as she sat on his lap, feeling his muscular chest against her back.  The two were just sitting on the Mansion's front porch, watching the night in silence.

Rogue looked over at him.  "You scared me tonight."

"Don't you know better than dat?"  He produced his usual lopsided grin.

Something snapped in her, he was making fun of it?  She rose and sat up straight.  "People are dead Remy."    

"Better dem than me."  He offered.

"Cant you take one thing seriously?"  She asked as she hopped off on him and stood.  "You are a killer, worse than that you are a mutant who killed humans!  Don't you know how serious this is?"  She asked as her voice rose.

"Remy knows."  He grunted as he stood to his feet and approached her.  "But I'm not going to second guess myself.  I did what I did and I would do it again if things were the same."  The words came out a little harder than he expected.  "Sorry Chere, Remy just wants to feel a little love right now."

She turned and looked down the institute's steps.  "That's just it…"

"What?"  He asked.

"I cant, I want to but I can't."  She turned to face him.  "I can never give you what you need."  Her hands were trembling.  It was so clear to her; all she had to do was say it.  "I'm sorry Remy, but it ain't going to work with us."

"Why you do this Chere?"  He asked, voice raised in a mixture of frustration and disappointment.

She stepped back, surprised by the outburst from his normally cool composure.  "What?"

"Why do you do this?"  He asked as he sighed.

"Remy, I…  I love you too much.  I love you too much to risk hurting you.  I love you too much to see you wasting your life with someone who you can never really love."

"Bullshit."

"What?"

"I Said Bullshit!"  He stepped towards her.  "Don't put this on Remy.  Its you chere, you are the one doing this to us.  It's not me, it's not the humans wanting to kill us, and it's not your powers.  Its you, you are the one pushing me away!  What is it going to take to convince you that I don't care, I don't care that we can't touch, all I want is you."  He exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose.  "You are going to learn to control it someday, but even if you never do, I will always be here."

She looked down.  "I know you're angry."

"Remy not angry."  He tilted her head up and looked into her eyes, she saw an expression she had never seen in Remy LeBeau.  "Remy's scared."

"Chere, Remy been with girls before, done things with dem he's not sure they got names for.  But that night with you in your room, that was the best night of my life."  He reached down and took one of her hands in both of his.  "Just watching you sleep, knowing that we couldn't touch, and not regretting a thing about it."

She looked at her hand in his.  "So you're saying you fell in love with me because you can't touch me?"

"No."  His thumb caressed the top of the leather glove.  "Your mutation just gave me the opportunity to see what I never could."

"But I can't live like that.  I can't be happy like that… like this."  She took her hand away from him.  "I can't do this anymore Remy.  Everyday it hurts too much, it hurts too much every time I want to kiss you, touch your hand, make love to you.  It hurts every time I even think of that.  I'm gothic for a reason, it scares people away, it was supposed to scare you away too."  She turned from him and took a few steps down the staircase.  "Is over, I don't want to see you at the mansion, please don't come by, you know what will happen."

"So you going to sick Logan me?"  He asked, voice hardening.

"If that is what it takes."

"You do that then.  You tell him that I will be walking right in through the front gate tonight at twelve sharp.  I'm going to walk right up that path and straight into his claws, and you know what chere?"  He stepped down just below her, compensating for his heights so they were eye level.  "I'm not going to throw a single card, not a single punch, not a single block.  Because the only way you are going to get rid of me is if I'm dead."     

"Please…"  She was silenced with a gloved fingertip pressed to her lips.

"I'm going to go vent some steam.  Please Chere; just think about it for a couple of hours."  He said and turned, descending to the driveway and his parked bike.

"Remy, please don't come back."  She called out to him.  A mixture of hurt and anger flashed in his red eyes but he remained silent.

"If you only knew how much those words hurt me Chere."  He muttered quietly to himself before he cranked the bike and twisted the throttle all the way.  The engine screamed in a cloud of white tire smoke as he took off down the road, disappearing around a curve and out of her view.

~~~~~

She sat on her bed, arms pulling her legs to her chest.  She didn't make a sound, not a whimper, but the streaked makeup told no lies. 

"What was that all about Stripes?"  Logan asked from her doorway that she apparently forgot to shut in the haste of returning to her room.

"You heard us?"  She looked up at him, another tear breaking free from the pools brimming under her eyes, making a trail down her cheek and collecting at her chin.

"Kind of hard not to."  He moved inside, taking a seat on the corner of her bed.

She sniffed, and wiped her chin free of the droplet.  "Then you heard what I told him?"

"Yep, and you know what I told him would happen if he hurt you."  He didn't look at her, just kept his eyes forward, facing the way he came in.

*Would he do it?*  She asked herself watching Logan.  His corded muscles visible even though his arms were relaxed at his side.  She looked at his hands, the veins running atop them, and at the knuckles that sheathed such a lethal weapon.

"When was the last time you looked at him Rogue?"

Her head snapped to attention.  "What do you mean?"  She asked as he looked at her directly for the first time since he came into the room.

"I mean really looked at the boy?"  He asked, handing her a box of tissues that rested on the nightstand.  "When he came here he was walking around in tank tops and shorts all the time.  I don't think I've seen his bare arms or legs in months."

"So what?"  She asked sniffing, retreating a tissue from the box handed to her.

"It's the middle of July."  Wolverine answered.  "Rogue, he wares long sleeves and gloves whenever he is around you.  If you ask me he is trying to make you comfortable.  He has changed his whole appearance because of your mutation and he doesn't mind."

"I think you're scared."  He closed his eyes.  "You finally found someone that isn't scared away by your powers and you don't know what to do."  He rose from the bed and crossed his arms over his chest as he moved to look out her window.  "Listen Stripes, I know how much easier it is when everyone is afraid and scared of you.  Theirs comfort in it, its predictable, no surprises.  But you found someone that you can't scare off."  He looked over at her, and Rogue could swear she saw a genuine smile.  "For Christ's sake Rogue, he was more than happy to get knocked unconscious just for a kiss."

Her eyes went wide.  "You knew?"

Logan raised an eyebrow.  "I may be old and don't remember much of my past, but that "he tripped" excuse smelled worse than Sabertooth."

~~~:*:~~~

The boy brought the harmonica to life, as if announcing to the bar that this was someone worth listening to.  It had the desired effect, instantly quieting any conversation as the group of people turned their attention to the small lighted stage.  Within a few beats after the crowd went silent, he slowed his pace, having gotten everyone's attention the music quickly went from an upbeat whaling, to a calm serenade that fit the smoky atmosphere.

Remy sat in the back corner of the little basement bar deep in the city.  He nursed his drink and watched the pale white smoke drifting upward from the tip of his Lucky Strike.  *Told Chere I'd Quit.*  He thought, and once again resisted the urge to place it to his lips and inhale.  Resolving himself to watch the escaping second hand smoke.

On stage the boy continued to blow into the harmonica, as an old man sat idly behind with a weathered blues guitar in his lap.  As the boy continued to slow his pace, the old blind man gently brought the guitar to life, letting the sounds drift into the still smoke infested air of the quiet lounge. 

The song was slow and depressing, but seemed to suit the inhabitance of the bar quite well.  Remy missed New Orleans, the atmosphere was something that no city could ever re-create.  But this was close.  He remembered standing at the north corner of Jackson Square when he was a few years younger, listening to an old black man with a ragged white beard play.  He must have watched the man every evening for a week.  He would arrive everyday at noon, his grandson walking with his arm guiding him through the busy streets.  He would take the same seat, on the same bench every day.  When the man's blinded eyes closed, and his lips found the metal of the harmonica the years seemed to lift from his tired form.  From noon until about dusk he would play for the tourist, usually upbeat tunes that elicited there spare change into the box at his feet.  His grandson would mill around, sometimes intently watching his grandfather, sometimes reading a book, sometimes intently watching the box of lose change at his feet.  Around dark they would gather up their money and leave, but no matter how Remy tried, they always seemed to lose him in the streets. 

But a few hours after dark they would return to the northern corner of Jackson Square, and the old man would really play.  After dark he wasn't playing for the tourist, he wasn't even playing for the natives of New Orleans; the old man was playing for himself.  The Boy's harmonica was good, but is lacked something that that old blind man had, soul.  Remy found that you couldn't play the blues unless you could tap into something that would fuel them.  Needless to say, at the moment, with the events going on in his life, Remy LeBeau felt that he could hold his own with the old man back in the north corner of Jackson Square.

*Why can't I just walk away?*

He had walked away from heist before.  He had walked away from his family.  He had walked away from numerous girls that seemed to flaunt themselves at him.  He had walked away from Bella Donna.

But why couldn't he do like she herself begged him to and walk away from Rogue? 

"Merde, is too depressing for me."  He said to no one in particular as the lonely harmonica pulled on into the night.  From the corner booth he looked to the far wall, and seeing that he had about an half hour until eleven, decided to ride a little before making his way back to the mansion.

He rose from the darkened booth, abandoning his half empty drink and still lit cigarette and walking to the stairs that lead up to the street above.

"Here."  He stated, pulling a twenty from his pocket and handing it to the burly bartender.  "Make sure de kid gets dis."  He said, and the bartender nodded placing the twenty in an envelope under the counter as Gambit exited the door and took the stairway up.

Sunday night tended to quiet the streets, but once the sun rose in the sky New York would go back to being New York.  Fighting the urge to once again dig in his trench pocket and place a cigarette in his lips Remy breathed deep.  Inhaling the cool night air rather than the warm, nicotine laced, smoke his body wanted.

He walked to his bike resting at the end of the alley, cranked it, and swung a leg over as it hummed at idle.  Remy checked his watch again; he had only managed to waste five minutes since he last looked to the time.  No matter, it was an hour back to Xavier's place, that gave him some time to take the scenic route.

Running his fingers through his hair he kicked the bike to life and drove onto the street.  The back roads always helped him think.  Remy smiled to himself, but the back roads at 100 mph helped him think better.

~~~:*:~~~

Logan sat in silence, watching the steam rise from his cup of coffee.

"What happened?"

He looked up from the black liquid to the doorway.  Storm smiled as she entered, her silk house robe catching the light and bending it in midair as she walked.  "He didn't show."  Logan responded as she took down her own mug, the one with the lightning bolt the students had given her, and filled the cup.

"Maybe he is running late."  She offered, taking a seat across from him.

"No."  Logan dismissed.  "Not him, not for something like this."  He said as he twirled his mug in his hands.

"Do you remember when we got these?"  Ororo indicated her mug and looked at his.

"Yeah."  He said looking at the picture on his.  A drawing of a weathered cowboy with the caption: 'There sure were a helluva lotta things they didn't tell me when I signed on with this outfit' scrawled around it.  "Just after the new kids got here."

"Do you remember what you told me?"  She asked, and continued after Logan remained silent.  "You said that it was stuff like this that made it all worth it."

"Knew that would come back to haunt me."  Ororo laughed and he rose from the table.  "I'm going out."  He said as he deposited his cup in the sink and headed for the backdoor.

"Logan."  He turned from the doorway to face her still setting at the table.  "What would you have done if he had came in tonight?"

Logan was silent for a moment, almost as if he was deciding to tell Ororo the truth.  "Just have let him keep on walking."  He said, and went through the door.

~~~:*:~~~

His yellow eyes looked up to the wall-clock for the fifth time in less than ten minutes.  His lips curled, and he almost let out a growl as he unfolded his arms.

"Enough of this."  Cyrus said as he pushed off of the wall he was leaning against.

Sage looked up from her seat next to the still unconscious Kurt.  "What are you doing?"  She asked as he walked into the house's kitchen. 

"Helping him wake up."  Cyrus called back, taking a large pot from the counter and filling it with water.  Once filled, he brought it back into the living room of the home, and dumped its contents on the still unconscious elf.

Kurt sputtered as the cold water nearly drowned him.  "Vhat?"  He shook the water from his hair and tried to sit up, but instead found himself lifted from the couch.

Finally able to get his vision to clear, he looked into the yellow eyes of his mirror image.  Well, if it was one of those mirrors at the carnival that made you looked like you were pumped up on steroids and had a very bad attitude.  "I would highly advise you to be very honest, very quickly."  Cyrus spoke slowly and clearly.

Kurt gulped.

~~~:*:~~~

*Rogue.*

She snapped up in bead, muscles tense and prepared to face the intruder's voice.

*Rogue, I need you to come downstairs.*  Xavier's voice entered her head.

She sighed, unconsciously pulling the sheets on her bed to her chest.  *Listen Professor, I'm sorry about today, I…*  She paused for words, and Xavier cut in.

*Rogue, Remy was in an accident.*  He paused, for the first time he could remember not quite sure what to say, or how to say it.  *It doesn't look good.*

~ Dun Du Dun!!!

Who has kidnapped Kurt?

What are Dr. Essex and Omen up to?

Will Pyro ever get the respect he feels should be his?

Will Remy be Okay???

… I'm not sure…

So, that's why I'll not be updating until I get an idea of where I'm going with this story.  Right now I got about 5 different storylines in my head, none of which I can decide on.  So, I shall retire to the fortress of solitude until I decide.

Never fear, I SHALL RETURN!!!!