AN: YAY! Reviews! This makes me happier than a can of paint! Mental chocolate to everyone!

Silent Doom: Wow, good feedback, I'm impressed. I really do desperately need a beta reader, please email me if you can do it. There are only two or three more chapters left so I'm sorry you weren't able to edit this one.

Anonymous-person-who-knows-about-Russian-and-German: I'm sorry I got them mixed up. It could be that I forgot who was talking, I forgot what language they speak, or that it was simply a typo, either way I'm sorry for my mix-up.

Ishandahalf: YAY! I love the word 'droll'! I'm so glad you liked it 

Enchantedlgiht: thank you so much for you praise! Unfortunately this wont be a romy, I'm tired of romy, I have sworn never to write another romy again. There really won't be any pairing for this, I just wanted Remy in his awesome Remyness.

Annnyyyyy way, thank y'all for the reviews, sorry again for the mistakes in the upcoming chapter. You can blame me. It's all my fault. Everything is my fault. Except zebras, I don't know what crazy bastard thought of those.

Chapter 2:

"… So, Here we have a painting displaying all the characteristics of Classical artwork. Can anyone tell me what these factors are?" Dr. McCoy said, displaying the artwork with a click of the projector.

Remy, who had probably taken this course five times in various forms lay his head down on the desk and suppressed the urge to drool. It was boring, incredibly boring. It figured that this was what Remy got for chose a subject he was actually interested in.

He would have suggested a higher-level class, but since the student population was so small they barely had enough kids to fill Art History: 1. A higher level just wasn't an option.

By the time the bell rang, the almighty signal for the herds of adolescents to commune and imbibe large amounts of unidentifiable lunchmeats (he had been listening to Dr. McCoy way too much), Remy's brain was well on its way to melting and pouring out his ears. The other eight kids in the class exited in a rush, but Remy remained a couple more seconds before rising. He was slow today; after all, if he had been on his normal schedule he would still be asleep.

As he moved sluggishly to the door, he found his nose buried in three inches of dark blue fur.

"I didn' do it." He mumbled automatically.

"No Remy, your not in trouble. I simply wished to discuss with you some matters that have been prying on my mind for the past week or so."

"hanh?"

"It seems to me that you, my Cajun compatriot, are well beyond the level of expertise that I expect from students attending my class. In fact, I might go so far as to say that your knowledge in this subject is beyond that of mine."

"Y' point?" Remy said, not wasting anytime with the large vocabulary that McCoy displayed with frightening frequency.

"My point," Beast continued, "I that I will allow you to abstain from attending my classes if you write me a bi-weekly thesis on the painting, artist, style, or period of your choice."

"Y' mean I get to skip your class if I do research?"

"Precisely my friend." McCoy said, grinning from ear to ear, "Of course, your studies may require that you travel outside the campus in order to view the artwork in person."

"Vraiment? Hell yeah! I mean… mais oui!" Remy was at the macho-male equivalent of jumping up and down and squealing. His red-on-black eyes were literally glowing and his spine became straighter than McCoy had seen in their short acquaintance.

Not only did this mean Remy no longer had to sit through any more long, boring lectures, he also got to do something that interested him and, joy of joys, he got a whole hour and a half added to his schedule for…other interests.

McCoy's grin grew even bigger, if that was possible, and he stood aside to let Remy exit the classroom. Remy walked down the hall with a spring in his step, a song in his heart, and a twitch in his fingers.

Remy sat in the dining hall, working hard on a sketch for his newest project. His mind, though, was neither on his plans or his food. It was settled somewhere on the other side of the cafeteria, seated next to a blue guy with a tail. He sighed, if he couldn't keep his mind on his work then he might as well deal with Stormy. After all, she was the one who had been avoiding him.

In fact, he had been here for over a week and had only seen his soeur late at night when he paid a visit to her room. This would not do. He had come to this damn school to see her. He had left his (admittedly boring) wanders to be close to her. And he hadn't said more than a word to her in four days.

Remy slowly folded his plans and stowed them away in a pocket of his duster. He stood, pushing his chair in and carrying his tray of uneaten food to the trash before moving deliberately to Storm's table.

"Salut Stormy." He said, throwing an arm around her shoulders and stealing a piece of biscuit off her plate.

"Good morning Remy," She said as she pulled him arm off her and scooted just a couple inches away form him. Remy frowned, she may protest his usual kisses and inappropriate comments but a simple hug? It hurt, but Remy would never say as much.

"I would like you to meet Kurt." She said, nodding to the blue fuzz-ball next to her. He nodded at Remy and murmured a polite "guten morgen". Remy's eyes narrowed and glowed ever so faintly. He resisted the urge to sneer at the other mutant, simply turning back to his soeur without mentioning her new…friend. Still, Storm would not let her boyfriend be ignored.

"Remy is something of an unofficial brother to me." She told Kurt with a flirtatious smile that made Remy's blood boil.

"Unofficial? Mais non chere! Y'r a totally legitimate member of de clan Lebeau!"

"Nothing in clan Lebeau is legitimate." Storm said with a chiding smile.

"Sure it is! My birt' certificate's legitimate, an' my marriage license…"

Storm's eyes narrowed just a little bit at the mention of Belle. Remy knew that Storm disliked his wife, in fact she hadn't even attended the fateful wedding in which his entire life had been ripped to pieces. He wondered if things would have been different if she had been there.

Normally he wouldn't even mention Belle, especially since the mention of a wife would ruin any chance he had with the girls at the school. But it bugged Storm, and right now he wasn't feeling very charitable towards his sister.

"Remy," Storm whispered, leaning in so that Kurt wouldn't hear, "She doesn't exit. Comprends?"

Remy looked deeply into her eyes for a moment. Did she mean it? Stormy the goddess of all that is mighty-and-totally-legal was asking him to lie? It was mind-boggling. Nonetheless, she wanted him to keep Belle a secret, and that's the way it would stay.

There was an awkward silence in which Kurt eyes the two overly much and Storm did not even look in Remy's direction. The bell rang yet again, saving all three of them from their social blunders, and Remy practically ran out of the room. He had one of the infamous 'danger room' sessions next, and he wouldn't miss it for the world.

This was to be Remy's very first danger room session. Previously, he had had a free period in that blissful hour between lunch and calculus. But Mr. Summer had seen him wandering around the mansion with a water gun and a maniacal grin and made sure there was something else to occupy his time. That man was such a prick.

Remy entered the large metal room where various teenagers were doing stretches and practicing simple martial arts moves. Remy's heart dropped. He had thought that perhaps he could fine a place to exercise his, obviously, superior skills. But it appeared he had been signed up for a supped-up gym class.

"Remy t'ink he going to need a harder class." He muttered.

"Danger Room sessions are organized by age, not skill level." Said a gravely voice behind him.

Remy jumped almost a foot in the air and spun around, only to come face to… well, air with wolverine. The man was so short he didn't even reach up to Remy's shoulders; it would have been comical if he didn't have three blades protruding from his knuckles.

"Salut Logan." Remy said, quickly drawing back into his cool persona.

"Shut up Swamp Rat." The man growled. He stalked away, expecting Remy to follow, without another word.

"First were gonna do a test, see which level you're at. Your either a beginner, and intermediate, or your doing one on one with me." Wolverine said. He barely looked around to see if Remy was following. He eventually came to a part of the gym that had been covered in soft matting. He removed his shoes before stepping onto the mat and facing Remy.

"You ever done sports?" He asked, turning his gaze on Remy for probably the first time. It was not a fun experience, Remy felt like the man was burning a hole in him with his stare.

"Qui," Remy replied, keeping his shields up and his face blank despite Logan's interrogation, "Gymnastics mostly, a little martial arts. Dis and dat, y'know." Remy shrugged."

"Yeah, I think I got an idea." Wolverine said. He moved into a classic defending pose and raised an eyebrow.

"Attack boy." He commanded.

Remy looked at him. Paused. Shrugged. And struck.

It was so fast that even Remy, who was participating in the 'sparring match', had trouble keeping up with what was going on. They were both using every dirty trick at their command. Including ripping out hair, pushing back cuticles, and many blows to inappropriate places.

The students who had been practicing nearby came to watch. They gathered in a circle around the two combatants.

Remy, pressed back increasingly and slowly loosing stamina, was forced to pull out one of his many secret weapons; his adamantium bo-staff. It extended and crashed into Wolverine's skull before the semi-feral man could notice its existence.

Wolverine lay on the mat for a little over a minute, breathing heavily and bleeding from the nose. Remy stood just a few feet away. He was so tired that he was using his bo to keep himself from falling over. Sweat dripped off his nose and landed with a light tap on the mat at his feet.

"Weapons aren't allowed at school Cajun." Logan growled as he wiped the blood from his face.

"Y' point?"

Wolverine was up and facing Remy in a second, showing no more signs of fatigue. "Hand it over."

Logan reached out for the staff and ripped it from Remy's hands before the boy could protest.

"Hey! Dat was a gift!" Remy reached for it but Logan simply collapsed it and placed it in his pocket. He turned to the students who had gathered around them and began his usual bellowing, sending them all running back to their previous activities.

Click There was a gasp from the surrounding students. Logan turned slowly only to find himself nose-to-barrel with a Smith and Wesson handgun. All the playfulness was gone from his eyes.

"Give it back." He said in a monotone, glaring daggers. Wolverine was shocked. Was it really safe to have accepted someone as volatile as this into the mansion?

Mentally, he contacted the Professor and hoped the man would react in time. He certainly didn't want to get his brains blown out. Not that it would kill him, it would just hurt a hell of a lot.

"Give it back." Remy repeated. Wolverine growled but relented, there was no need to frighten the children with the image of his almost-dead body. He handed the collapsed staff back to Remy, who un-cocked the gun and placed it back in his pocket. His smile reappeared like magic. "Merci, mon brave." He said with a grin.

"Listen punk…" Wolverine started, only to be cut short by the sound of the Danger room doors opening. Ororo and the Professor, responding to Wolverine's mental alarm, rushed into the oversized gym like they were being chased by F.O.H ninjas.

"Remy!" Ororo cried, running up and stopping just shot of slapping him across the face. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Remy winced. Ororo's tone was way over the edge of 'goddessly fury' and moving towards 'homicidal rage'. Her eyes had clouded over and Remy could have bet that there was a hurricane underway outside. He shrank back a little, hoping against hope that he would see the next day with all limbs intact.

"He took m' staff." He muttered, sounding a little more childish than he had hoped. "Y' know…"

"I don't care what your rules are!" She snapped, "You pulled a weapon on a teacher in a school! Do you know how serious that it?"

Remy's froze at the I don't care that exited her mouth. She didn't care? She didn't give a damn about the laws of The Guild, their guild? Didn't she know what that bo staff meant?

"Dat staff is a sign of my rank," He growled, low enough that no one other than wolverine could hear what they were saying. "It means I'm a master damnit! Remy worked too freakin' hard to t'row his life away at de turn of a hat. I ain't like you."

Remy saw Ororo wince, and instantly regretted his words, not that he would admit it. She glared, getting angrier by the minute, and Remy could feel himself quaking in his boots. He was considering apologizing when Ororo's lips turned upward. It was the smile of a particular vindictive sibling, and Remy was probably the only one in the school who had seen it before.

"Very well brother," She said in a calm voice that scared the shit out of Remy, "if you wish to remember your roots, then I suggest we contact them." From the depths of her loose dress Storm pulled a small compact cell phone and began dialing. Remy let out a horrified gasp.

"No! Chere don't do it! Remy begging you, please. I love you an' m' sorry, I'll never do it again. I'll weed y'r garden an' wash y'r windows, I'll be nice to y'r boyfriend please." Remy begged. He threw his arms around her shoulders and pleaded, while trying to remove the cell phone from her grip. She easily maneuvered away and pushed the 'send' button, giving Remy an evil grin.

"I don' wanna talk to him dammit! Don' you dare try t' put him on de phone. Are you listening to me?"

The other students watched with curiosity, what had started as a terrifying confrontation was starting to look a little entertaining. Jubilee, who was standing close enough to hear what they were saying but far enough away not to be noticed, practically jumped with joy over what she was witnessing. What great gossip fodder.

"Bonjour Henri." Storm said smugly, "Is your father there? It is a matter of utmost importance."

"Storm! Ororo, please…"

"Ah, Jean-Luc it is good to hear your voice. No nothing is wrong, there has just been a little… incident. Yes sir. I'll let you talk to him. Here you go." Storm looked over at Remy, who was visibly pale and looked at the cell phone as it were going to explode.

"I told you! I don' want to…. Pere!" Remy had no choice as the phone was thrust onto his ear. The deep, slightly ominous voice of his adopted father could be heard clearly on the other end.

"Y' pulled me out of an important meeting Remy."

"Désolé." Remy said.

"I haven' heard from you in months."

"Désolé" He said again.

"If Storm hadn' told me y' were going to be at de school I woulda gone mad wit worry."

"Désolé-wait, she did what?" For a couple seconds Remy felt like turning around and slapping his sister across the face. She had kept contact with him?

"It's all in de past now mon fils. What I wan' to know is what de hell happened."

"ummm, well y' see its kinda a long story. Y' don' wan' to know."

"Gimme de condensed version." Jean-Luc growled.

"Remy sorta pulled a gun on de teacher…" Remy said, drooping as he awaited his father's punishment.

"Quoi? Idiot! Is dis de way y'r going to represent de guild? I can' believe ' would do somt'ing dis irresponsible! If y' were here right now I'd take it out o' y'r hide!'

"He took my staff!" Remy whined into the phone, "An' it's not like it'd hurt de man, he's got a healing factor!"

"Dats beside de point. I didn't raise you to act like dis Gambit." His father lectured. You didn't raise me at all, Remy thought angrily. He would never say such things out loud but the unfairness of the situation was bringing out feeling he had tried to forget. After all, it had been a little over a year since he had left home.

"You better watch yourself boy, or I might have to come and make sure you behave." With that, Remy found himself holding a dead line.

He glared at the phone before tossing back to Storm, "Putain" He growled. Remy stomped out of the room, leaving a startled student body to wonder at his passing.

Remy stormed into his room and threw himself on the bed. It had been a terrible day. He was glad that it was over, of course, tomorrow would be another day filled with lectures and disappointed looks. He would allow himself to be angry at Storm later. At the moment, he had to finish his newest piece d'art.

He had his plans laid out and ready when Piotr entered the room, equipped with a sketchpad and his pencil case. He briefly glanced at what Remy was doing but then moved to his side of the room with a barely audible "good afternoon".

Remy smiled and ruffled through the many pieces of 8 by 11 paper. He was going to need a little more. His good mood was greatly restored as he quickly trotted out of his room, leaving Piotr to gaze at his back and get back to his painting.

The next morning, all seemed to be well. Or at least it did to Piotr. He and Remy were seated together in the cafeteria, enjoying a comfortable silence. Neither of them were very interested in their food. Remy was engrossed in a book on renaissance art, while Piotr was doing the shading on his latest portrait of Kitty Pride.

"Fra Filippo?" Piotr asked, barely looking up from his work to see the cover of Remy's book.

"Oui, he's good." Remy replied in monotone.

"Da."

"'S dat Pride?" He asked

"Da."

"She's hot."

"Indeed."

They lapsed back into silence, having filled any need for conversation, the two friends continued to ignore each other in an amiable manner. That is, until Bobby Drake ran into the room and began telling an outrageous story about something being wrong with cerebro.

Students ran out of the cafeteria, eager to get a look at what had happened to the big round room. Remy and Piotr got up and slowly followed the crowd, all of whom were pushing into the elevator despite the attempts of a harassed Jean to send them back to breakfast.

Remy and Piotr took their time, but eventually arrived in the cold, metallic, downstairs. The door to cerebro had been left open to allow teachers to come and go, but none of the students were allowed in the doors. Remy pushed to the front of the crowed and looked through the opening, grinning when he saw his newest piece.

Papering every square inch of cerebro's massive interior were pictures. Not the type taken by a camera, but the type drawn by a child. In fact, every single one of those pictures had been drawn by children in the institute, or found out in New York when Remy had been wandering around. Little stick figures with purple hair and great big scribbles of nothing adorned the walls. They were all on construction paper and, when viewed all at once, they made up a big, yellow, smiley face. On one single piece of paper in the far left corner, almost out of sight, were the words:

Gambit:

The Pickpocket Picasso

Remy couldn't help but grin. It brought a comforting and childish simplicity to Xavier's cold mansion. It made him think of…

"Innocence." Said a voice behind him. Remy turned to look at his friend, who had been standing behind him, and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"It looks like innocence." Piotr repeated, "It's cute, da?"

Remy grinned and nodded, lightened by Piotr's approval. He turned and jogged back to his room. After all, he didn't want to be there when Stormy found out.