AN: Well, this is almost it. Short, I know. I may or may not write an epilogue depending on what people think. Gazoogles and a muffin of thanks to Silent Doom, who edited this chapter. She actually knows Russian  I would like to tell everyone that I'm sorry I'm suck a lazy writer and this is so short. I am lazy… lazylazylazylazylazy…..and I don't like to work either.

Zetabee: Oh? I have an obsession? At least I don't have a sickening fascination with actors whose names begin with KE and end in ANU. Thank you for being my best friend you crazy stalker girl 

Lovebuggy: Don't we all eventually have the urge to glomp him? Yes. Yes we do. Thank you for the review. I hope you catch him.

Demonic Gambit: Why thank you 

Lollipop: No.

Enchanted light: YAY! Thank you for your review. I hope the Remyness suffices.

Silent Doom: Thank you for your review and again THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BETAING! I'm so glad to have someone who actually cares to edit for me. hugs

Chapter 3

Remy carefully maneuvered himself around the furniture in Wolverine's darkened room. It was nearing midnight and the feral mutant had yet to return to the mansion. Remy was glad. Stealing from people's rooms while they were asleep proved little challenge but it would have been almost impossible to steal from Wolverine while the feral man was in the room.

He moved through Wolverine's belongings with an almost unnatural attention to detail. His hair was caught up in a black swimming cap and his hands were incased in rubber gloves. He slipped a few items into his bag and pulled out a bottle of Febreeze, liberally spraying the room to hide his scent before he left.

Next, he moved to the Professor's room, and then the room shared by Scott and Jean, creeping silently by the psychics without being noticed. He avoided Storms room simply because he had everything he needed from her already. He snuck down to the girl's dormitory and moved systematically through every room, stopping only once to admire Paige's see-through nightgown. He snapped a couple photos as he left the room.

After a brief but beneficial sweep of the boy's dorm, Remy was done. He returned to his room where Piotr and Bobby were snoring away peacefully. The rest of the night was spent carefully sorting and storing his newly acquired items. Remy had hidden the last piece by the time the sun was peeking trough the blinds. Remy fell into bed and was almost instantly asleep.

The alarm went off at 7:00 that morning and Remy had had less than an hour of sleep. He rolled over and pulled a pillow over his head, ignoring both the sunlight streaming into the room and the incessant sound of the alarm.

"Remy tovarisch?" Piotr said as he gently shook his friend by the shoulder, "It is time to get up, da? Remy?"

"I don't think he's getting up Pete." Bobby said sullenly. He was standing in front of the mirror and carefully spiking his hair. "He probably spent last night with some girl. I mean, he was out all night, I didn't even hear him come in."

"I do not think that is a very nice thing to say Bobby." Piotr said, turning away from Remy's sleeping form in order to pick up his sketchpad.

"It's true!" Bobby replied, "He hits on anything that moves. I heard him flirting with Scott the other day."

"Still…"

"Forget about it, Pete," Bobby said as they moved to the door and out into the hallway, "people like that have only one thing on their minds."

Remy's eyes snapped open when he heard what Bobby had said. He knew how most of the students saw him, a dangerous and volatile womanizer. It hurt, just a little, but Remy wrote it off as jealousy and ignored it as best he could, after all, he had so many more important things to worry about.

Remy stood in the Renoir exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston MA. He had taken one of the bikes in order to get to the exhibit in time and was hoping no one would notice his absence. It was a Saturday; no one would be looking for him for another 48 hours, a perfect chance for a little road trip.

He gazed up at Moulin De la Galette with amazement. It reminded him of the old Guild picnics he would attend. People everywhere, dancing, drinking and talking. He sighed happily, pulled out his notebook and started taking notes on Renoir's style. At that moment, he would have bet half his Swiss bank account that there was a goofy smile on his face and an almost insanely happy gleam in his eye. The only thing that could compare to looking at artwork of this quality would be to steal artwork of this quality.

His joy was soon shattered, however, by a cry that echoed throughout the deep, usually silent, halls that were normally one of the only places of recluse he had.

"Remy Etienne Lebeau!" Storm strode into the Renoir room with a wind at her heels and goddessly fury in her eyes. The few other people in the room turned and stared as she grabbed Remy by the ear, giving him just enough time to grab his bag and notebook before she pulled him out of the building to the front lawn where she could give him a loud and comprehensive lecture.

"Ssshhhh! Chère! Dis is a museum!"

"No, padnat, this is the lawn in front of the museum."

"Still," he said, "People come here for quiet, t' relax and…"

Storm burst out with a cold laugh and dragged him towards the parking lot, talking all the way. "You can't expect me to believe that you would be here merely to enjoy the artwork, Remy. I know you too well and I will not stand idly by as you plan another one of your heists!"

"Stormy, y' know I wouldn' pull a heist after I promised you not to." Remy whined as Storm pulled him to her car and threw him into the passenger seat.

With a screech of tires, they sped out onto the road, headed back to the school. Remy wanted to complain, or explain, or something. But the look on Storm's face warned him that she was in no mood for 'excuses'. He stayed silent for the entire ride back to New York, contemplating his latest project.

When they arrived at the mansion, Remy jumped out of the car and walked softly to his room like the thief he was. He pulled out the boxes that contained his project and began preparing; this would be his greatest masterpiece yet.

It was six-thirty AM and Remy was just a little bit behind schedule. He had just placed the last photo in the very center of his mosaic. It completed the picture he had formed on the huge wall of the cafeteria. Remy was sure that only a very select few would know what the symbol he had formed on the wall represented. It was a cross with three horizontal lines, the last one slanted downward. Remy wasn't sure if it was a religious reference or just something that had evolved from the letter "T", but it was the official symbol of the New Orleans Thieves Guild. Remy used to have it tattooed on his wrist.

He smiled fondly at the pictures that formed his mosaic. They were all taken from people in the institute. Some of them were pictures from birthdays, weddings, and family gatherings. Some of his favorites were pictures of his own: a picture from his fifteenth birthday, one of his just after his adoption, and one from his guild ceremony that featured his entire family. There was also a single photo, hidden amid the others, that featured Remy and his 'friend' Jacob Gavin engaging in something indecent.

There were pictures of Storm as well: Storm with the Professor, Storm with Kurt, Storm alone in her garden. Remy wondered sadly why there were no pictures of Storm with him.

Just as he was noticing this, the first wave of students trampled down for breakfast. Remy swore vigorously in French. He had hoped to get out of the room before the spectators came. That and the fact that he was now trapped hanging from the ceiling by a wire.

"Dude!" shouted an unnamed student, pointing up to the mosaic and Remy. Remy sigh and forced himself to accept the fact that his day was ruined.

There was a crowd gathering and Remy switched into full 'performer mode', dangling upside down from his wire and swinging back and forth as the crowd grew larger. He didn't speak until Storm appeared, still wearing her sheer nightgown, with murder in her eyes.

"Stormy!" He crowed with feigned delight, slowly stopping the spinning and preparing himself for a scream-fest.

Instead of screaming she simple gazed up at him in what Remy recognized as the worst possible emotion ever: disappointment. She was as quiet as the grave and the students became quiet as well, sensing the tension between the two.

Remy found himself getting angry. The events of the past few months weighed heavily on him, reminding him of how Ororo had treated him recently.

"Well?" He said in an almost aggressive tone, "What do y' t'ink?"

"Remy… I…" Remy perked up at her hesitation, maybe she liked it, he thought; maybe she thought it was as beautiful as he did.

"I want you to leave."

"What!" Remy shouted down at her, "Y' want…"

"I want you out. Gone. Get lost, Remy, you're ruining everything!" This was the closest Remy had ever seen Storm to crying. She glared up at him and a total hush fell over the students. No one had ever been kicked out of Xavier's before.

"I can't believe you Remy!" Ororo shouted, "I'm giving you a place to live and learn and succeed and all you do is steal from my students and publicly humiliate me! You can't even be decent to my boyfriend." That was the last straw and for the first time in quite a while, Remy allowed himself to get truly angry.

"I came here for you, 'Ro!" he shouted back. "Not for school or a place t' sleep. If I wanted dat, I would go t' college! I came here t' spend time wit you and all y' do is keep me from being who I am."

"I'm trying to help you lead a better life…" Storm continued. With that one sentence, Remy really blew up.

"Dis was my life!" he shouted, pointing at a photo of his wedding. "An' I t'ought you were part of it. But I guess I was wrong." Before she had a chance to respond, Remy turned to the students, intent on hurting her.

"Yo! Mutant High!" he called out. "Dis is mon chère petite soeur, and she's supposed to be dere for me, y'know." He looked out at the crowd and pointed to one of the photos nearest him.

"Dis is my seventeenth birt'day. I had people coming from Japan t' the party, but Stormy was too busy grading quizzes. An' here's a picture of my weddin', t'ree weeks after dat birt'day, an' Stormy didn' come 'cause of midterms.

"An' finally," he shouted, pulling up his sleeve to show his wrist to the crowd, "dis is where dey burned my family tattoo off when dey kicked me out de day of de wedding. I'd ask you if y' sympathized, Stormy, but I heard you had yours lazered off two years ago."

Storm was crying, and it brought him no satisfaction at all. Neither of them spoke as Remy leaped from his perch and somersaulted to the ground. Neither of them said a word as Remy ran up to his room, grabbed his bag, and left just as silently as he had come.

None of the students said a word, and Storm ran from the room in tears. They all moved to get their pictures from the wall, but not before Piotr Rasputin snapped a couple photos and whispered into the air,

"It is beautiful, da?"