AN: YAY! Second chapter! W00t! I AM SO HAPPY!

Stretch: I suppose you could call this an AU, I mean, it's the movieverse and Remy isn't even in the movieverse so that automatically makes it an AU. I made Storm a member of the guild simply because I knew that she was very close to Remy and that she was a thief. The brother-sister bond is more of a figurative thing that actually blood relations. I'm so glad you liked it  YAY! Please send me some more of your fantastic feedback!

Chapter 1:

Remy sat in Ororo's office as he waited for the final judgment from The X-men. Remy could practically hear the capital letters whenever someone said the word.

It had been approximately four hours, five minutes, and forty-two seconds since he had thought about, worked on, considered, taken, or done anything involved in a job. He was hoping the rumors were right and the first 24 were the hardest because his fingers had developed a twitch.

Ororo, followed by a group of uninteresting yet well-muscled individuals, entered the office. As usual, Remy only had eyes for his soeur any others where just pointless additions to the game that is life.

Introductions went around and Remy pretended to listen. He did notice however, that the infamous Kurt was nowhere to be seen. He sighed, now he had nothing to look forward to during this little meeting.

"…Probably doesn't need to attend classes but it would probably be best for him to have some positive social interaction." Storm was saying, calmly to the bald guy in the wheel chair.

"Mais Stormy," Remy whined, even though he had already agreed to go to classes anyway, "I already got a degree, deux!"

"Remy," Storm replied, "That doesn't count."

"Why not?"

"Because it wasn't legal."

"So?"

"You didn't attend a single class."

"I musta' been real smart then."

"You didn't even set foot in the collage!"

"I didn' set foot in a high school neither."

"How did you get a degree?" Scott (secretly named 'rod up ass' by Remy) asked naively. He had been watching Remy for the past twenty minutes and he did not like was he saw, a troublemaker. Jean, attending the meeting through their psychic link, watched closely but what she thought was hidden. Scott would wait and see what Jean thought; after all, she could read the kid's mind.

Remy gave him a big grin, one that showed all his teeth, and said, "Remy bought it, fare and square from de nice lady at Harvard, and anoder one from de nice lady at Princeton."

Wolverine whistled, "That must cost some serious cash, bub."

"Ah, mon ami," Remy replied, "dere was no money involved. In fact, I'd say l'argent was de farthest t'ing from dere minds." Remy grinned his 'I'm sexy and you know it' grin and leaned back a little in his chair, now fully in charge of the conversation.

Storm coughed and placed her hand on Remy's shoulder, squeezing just a little. It was their secret code for 'shut up your embarrassing me' and Remy took it in stride, swallowing the inappropriate comment he had been about to make.

"I'm sure," Bald Guy said in his calm 'yes that's your mind I'm reading' voice, " That we can fit Remy into some of the entry level classes, and we can see how he works out…"

"Entry level? Y' gonna put me in freshman classes? Stormy!" Remy looked pleadingly in Storm's direction with the best puppy eyes he could manage.

Storm sighed, but like anybody else she was putty when faced with The Amazing Puppy Eyes. She relented in a matter of seconds.

"I'm sure we can work out a schedule that can accommodate all of Remy's special talents." Storm said, "Perhaps more advanced classes in art, music, and literature, and math, science and history at the normal level."

Remy knew, unlike some students his age, that the choices they were making now would affect his life unlike anything else. Namely it would decide whether he was entertained or died or boredom. With that knowledge, Remy set himself in his very best poker face and began to haggle.

"I wan' advanced musical theory an' art history."

"Deal," Storm replied quickly, just as set in getting Remy to go to the classes she wanted as he was in doing the opposite, "But you're taking biology one, and regular level history."

"D'accord"

"…And pre-calc."

"Non, trigonometry."

"Calculus."

"Somet'ing wit Shakespeare and a deck of cards and I'll do whatever math you wan'"

"Done." Storm said, reaching out and shook Remy's hand heartily.

"Where's m'cards." He said, holding out his hand.

Storm, who had expected something like this to happen eventually, reached into her pocket and produced a cheap CVS-brand pack of cards, which she slapped into his hand.

"Y' know me so well chere." He said with a grin.

"And you drive an easy bargain." She replied.

"Only 'cause I love you an' your de most beautiful creature on de whole fu-reaking planet."

"Charmer." She grumbled, ignoring his swearing slip-up and blushing despite herself.

"I'm done den?" He asked.

"Yes my prince," She said, giving he a mocking bow, "You may retire to your chamber."

"C'n I retire to your chamber?" He asked, grinning like a maniac.

"Not," She said as she pushed him out the door, "if you want to be buried with all your bits and pieces intact."

Remy planted a little kiss on her cheek just before she slammed the door in his face and turned back to her teammates, awaiting their judgment.

"He seems like a very… vital young man Ororo." The Professor said, steadily and calmly the way he said every thing, "But one thing bothers me…"

"Yes?" Ororo said.

"Are you and Remy…in some sort of relationship?" The Professor felt slightly embarrassed by the question, after all, Ororo's relationship with Kurt was blatantly obvious. But there was defiantly something there, and Charles Xavier was not a supporter of student-teacher affairs.

"What! Remy?" Ororo shocked everyone in the room by laughing out loud, "He's like my little brother! Trust me Professor, neither you nor Kurt has anything to fear."

Remy lay on his bed, staring at the perfectly smooth white ceiling. It had been approximately five hours, fifteen minutes, and twenty seconds since his last job-related thought. His fingers were twitching so madly that he doubted they could be seen as anything other than blurs. He was going through thievery withdrawal.

His two roommates were at classes (which he would start tomorrow). But he had met them briefly before they had rushed off to fourth period. The bed across from his belonged to Closeted Gay Guy, AKA the blond spiky-haired kid AKA Benny? No, wait, Bobby. Yeah, Bobby. Remy never knew why people did that spiky-hair-thing it seemed too much of an effort for too little hair. Still, he had to admit, CGG looked pretty damn good.

The other bed, all the way on the other side of the room, belonged to Tin Man. Remy had given up trying to day that kids name. Hell, couldn't even say the all-American 'Peter', much less his Russian equivalent.

Still, The Roomies where out doing their studious thing, and Remy was stuck lying on his bed with epileptic fingers. He rolled onto his side, hoping that the weight of his body would help the funny vibrating feelings in his hands. It didn't. But as Remy gazing out the window, he noticed something. A small glass keepsake, probably belonging to Tin Man, hung from the window, causing rainbows of light to shine across the room. It was so shiny! So very, very pretty. Before Remy could even acknowledge that he had moved he was holding it in his hands, turning it back and forth in the light.

As Remy held the prism an idea came to him. A wonderful, beautiful, rotten, idea. So great an idea it was, that Remy could barely keep from laughing insanely with joy. He ran to his bag and pulled out a sheet of paper and a pencil to begin planning. Life was beautiful and his hands were steady. After all, he had a job to do.

"Where is my prism?" Piotr asked the next morning at the bright and early hour of seven AM. Remy was sitting on his bed, mourning the hours of sleep he had lost and cursing all and sundry. He barely registered Piotr's words.

"I dunno homme. Maybe it got stolen."

"Why would anyone want to take it? It was worthless."

"Den why do y' want it?" Remy asked, annoyed that Piotr was still talking while he was trying to sleep with his eyes open.

"It was a gift from my sister, tovarich. It was very dear to me."

"Well mon brave, Remy sure dat it'll show up eventually. Maybe we go get some breakfast now?" What Remy was really thinking was something along the lines of: 'coffee. Cooooffffeeeee. Coffeecoffeecoffee. Merde, I want coffee.'

"Ja," Piotr replied. Remy slung his arm around his new roommate and used the boy to support himself to the dining hall, where they were met with a spectacular sight. Hanging from almost invisible fishing wire, directly from the ceiling, were things. Shiny things.

Necklaces and rings and watches and even a hair clip or two hung in an inward moving spiral towards the center of the room. Among the cheap things that added to the whole, well, shininess, were wolverines dog tags, a set of diamond earrings that may or may not have belonged to anyone in the school, and the engagement rings belonging to two Scott and Jean Summers. Connected to each wire, up at the top where it wouldn't mess with the effect, were small white tags declaring the owner of the object.

In the very center of the spiral, and the dining hall, was Piotr's prism, hanging from the longest wire of all so that it stood out from all the others around it. Stuck to the prism was a simple yellow post-it declaring in flowing script:

Gambit:

The Pickpocket Picasso

Remy smiled, seeing the full affect of his labors in the light of the sun. It was beautiful. And, best of all, his fingers were utterly still and calm. He breathed in a deep sigh of relief and patted his pocket, which contained a Polaroid of his masterpiece, so that even when they took it down he would remember.

He had not thought, however, that they would be taking it down so soon. Everyone in the school stood in awe for a few moments, yet one girl saw a pair of butterfly hairclips that had previously been entombed in her jewelry box. She ran over with a cry of "those are mine!" and grabbed them, ripping them out of their moorings.

That sent off the stampede. Students ran to retrieve their stolen items, ripping out the beautiful piece of hard that had taken Remy a day an a night to complete. All his hard work, gone in less than five minutes. He felt like crying.

Even after all the students had gone to their breakfasts and nothing of Remy's work was left, Piotr stood holding the prism on its string and looking at the little post-it. He crumpled the note and stuffed it in his pocket, but left the prism there just a little bit longer, so that he could remember all the lights shining on the walls.

Remy grinned. It was beautiful, just that one little glass object. At least his hands weren't itching. And he knew they wouldn't, not for another few weeks at least. But he already had something else planned, and he was ready to bring it into action.