Old Friends and Fury's Answer
Psyc, Sherry and Gambit laughed and joked as they exited the plane. Vacation had been fun, but they were all glad to be back in New York. Even Remy, who's family they had stayed with in New Orleans, was relieved to be returning to the school.
Walking out of the airport, they each held one of Sherry's hands and swung her through the air. Sherry's feet hit the ground and the girl struggled free and ran forward.
"Sara! Jazz!" she called happily. The two little girls met each other halfway, knocking each other down and laughing hysterically. Psyc ad Gambit approached slower, grinning.
"So… how was Mardi Gras?" Jazz asked as she helped with the bags.
"It was fun," Psyc replied, not realizing she just gave Jazz the perfect opening.
"How fun?" Jazz took it and ran. Psyc lightly punched her friend on the arm, while Remy simply smirked.
"How'd you get the Rolls?" Psyc asked the question, quickly changing the subject. Jazz just laughed.
"It was the only car there."
"Wha'?" Remy asked, confused. "Where i' e'eryone?"
"Not sure. Nate and I just got back a few hours ago and I was nominated to play chauffer." Jazz slammed the trunk and turned with a grin. "So… your limo awaits!"
The drive back was anything but quiet. Everyone talked to everyone talked to everyone and the little ones laughed a lot. The cars were all in the garage when they pulled in.
"Well," Jazz said, "looks like they're back."
Sara and Sherry dashed into the house to greet the teams leaving the older people to bring in the bags. Jazz helped Remy and Psyc carry their bags to their rooms. Psyc had just started to unpack when the prof. called.
"Psyc, Jazz, Remy… could you come to the den please. There are a few people I'd like you to meet."
"Of course, prof. We'll be right down."
The thought came from all of them simultaneously and brought a smile to the prof's face.
"They'll be right down."
He spoke to everyone in the room. All his old students were present (Scott, Jean, Piotr, Ororo, Hank, Bobby and Logan), along with two new ones that arrived over break. Kurt, who was a demon looking teleporter, and…
"Jean-Paul!" Psyc's yell preceded her into the room. The boy turned pushing his blue tinted sunglasses into his light brown hair.
"Larla-Rose?" The shock faded from his face and the two met halfway across the floor and pulled each other into a tight embrace.
"Oh my God!" Psyc pulled back, her eyes sparkling and a grin on her face. She missed the glare Remy shot at the boy. "Jean-Paul…what are you doing here."
"Me?" The boy's surprise faded and he laughed. "At least it's still common knowledge that I'm alive. Where have you been?"
Psyc shrugged. "Oh, you know, here, there, wherever I want. I've been on vacation."
"Right…for seven years? And who's your friend?"
Psyc smiled. "Jean-Paul, Jazz, Jazz, Jean-Paul."
Before anything else could be said, Xavier broke in. "I see you two know each other."
"Know each other?" Jean-Paul laughed. "That's a bit of an understatement."
Xavier saw Gambit tense and saw where this seemed to be headed.
"Psyc," he sent, "Please explain this quickly before Gambit takes it upon himself to reduce our numbers."
Psyc looked over her should as she realized what he meant. She took a few steps back from Jean-Paul and looked around the room.
"Jean-Paul and I grew up together. He might as well be my brother." Jean-Paul didn't seem to notice that anything had been wrong or the tension that drained from the room as Gambit visibly relaxed.
"We were practically inseparable," he said with a grin. "Until she disappeared. We all thought she was dead."
Psyc shrugged. "But what are you doing here? A sudden, horrid idea hit her. "Uncle Nick didn't send you, did he?"
Jean-Paul shook his head. "Last time I saw him, he didn't say much."
"When was that?" she prompted, not able to simply let it drop.
"About a week ago. Just before I came here."
"Son of a bitch!" Psyc swore savagely, drawing gasps from the seven year olds. "He didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?" Jean-Paul was confused and not bothering to hide it.
Psyc's response was to let fly another round of curses. Logan had more sense and told the boy calmly, "Kid, Jury's know she's here for months."
Jean-Paul's mouth dropped open in disbelief. The next several hours were devoted to catching everyone up on what had been going on, though Psyc neglected to mention her visit in the cemetery.
"Sounds like you've been just about everywhere," Jean-Paul said slightly envious of his friend. Psyc shrugged and he smirked. He couldn't help but think of the reaction the "kids back home" would have if they could see her now. In the seven years she had been "dead", Larla-Rose had grown from a small, emerald-eyed, impish tomboy, into a sassy, flirtation heart breaker. Lying in the grass with her eyes closed against the sun, arms crossed behind her head and her obsidian and flame locks fanned out over the ground she looked like a fallen angel. At least until you took in the rest of her. Her leather top was really nothing more than a bikini. Her low-ride pants stopped a good three inches below her belly button, showing her flat stomach. She even managed to make the combat boots and trench coat (which Gambit had insisted she war due to the bite in New York's February air) look stylish. She would, he knew, turn the head of any straight guy whose path she crossed.
"And what about you?" Her voice snapped him out of his trance as she sat up. "Still the most popular guy in school?"
Jean-Paul laughed and sent a stone skipping across the surface of the lake. "Not exactly." Psyc gave him a curious look and he explained. "It's hard to find friends when you're an out of the closet homosexual."
"No way!" Psyc burst out. A quick glance showed she was, to his relief, smiling. "Then when we first came in the room, it wasn't Jazz you were asking about, it was…"
"Gambit," he told her, nodding.
She laughed until tears ran down her face and Jean-Paul, knowing she wasn't being cruel, waited for an explanation. "Jean-Paul," she gasped gleefully, "I always knew we had a lot in common, but I never expected it to include our choice in partners." Seeing he still didn't quite understand, she explained. "Gambit's my boyfriend." For a fraction of a second, he looked shocked, then joined in her laughter.
Psyc lay awake long after everyone else had drifted to the land of dreams. Jean-Paul had no clue wheat the SHIELD General had planned for her. His mind was so open, it was almost sinfully easy to get that bit of information. With an exasperated sigh she snatched the pillow from behind her head and covered her face with it, thinking maybe the suddenly over bright and offensive moonlight was responsible for the night's insomnia. When that didn't work, she threw back the covers and rolled out of bed.
She headed for the balcony door but at the last minute, detoured to her dresser. Without really looking, she opened the top drawer, reached into the back right corner and pulled something out. She went the last few stapes to the door, threw it open and went out onto the balcony. From there, it was a simple thing to swing out into the tree that Gambit had once used to gain access to the room to try and take Sherry. A week after she had first come to the institute, Psyc had discovered that about half-way up the tree right by the trunk was a little cleft about four feet cubed with only two braches near each other that, once a decent piece of ply-wood had been placed over them to form a platform, made a nice secluded retreat.
That was where she went, glad to see that with the sky as clear as it was the moon gave plenty of light to see by. Once she was comfortably situated, she finally looked down at what she had grabbed. The old fanny-pack had faded from its original deep, rich black, to a dull dingy gray. Both the strap and the zipper had given out long ago and several places were threadbare to the point of transparency. She hadn't opened it in two years, but it went with her wherever she went. Now she undid the safety pins that held it shut, carefully placing all seven a safe distance from the edge of the platform. She pulled the items inside out, one by one and placed them in a neat line.
She barely glanced at some of the items, but for the first time in years, she stopped to really look at the pictures. Carefully, she replaced the old nightstick and Polaroid camera; she sat back, ready to look into the past. The pictures were in chronological order, starting with the day her parents and she arrived in New Orleans and ending with the picture of the funeral. There were three of them. The fourth was older, and it held her attention the longest. It showed her at age eight with another girl whose blond hair and blue eyes were in stark contrast with her own dark hair and green eyes.
"C'mon out of the shadow, Remy." Psyc spoke without looking up. Remy sat next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.
"Wha' are yo' doin' ou' 'ere in yo' pajamas?" he asked, softly adding with a small laugh, "di' yo' fo'ge' dat we're back in de nort'?"
"No," she assured him, leaning into him and putting her head on his shoulder. "I just couldn't sleep."
"Wha' were yo' lookin' a'?" he asked, curiously.
"Just some old pictures," she told him, handing them over and reaching for the blanket she left out.
Gambit took his time looking at each picture. The first one was easy to tell. It was her parents outside the New Orleans airport. The second was just as easy. It was a smiling Psyc at a Mardi Gras parade. From all the black and the tears on the face of a boy he recognized as Jean-Paul, the third one was her parent's funeral.
He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the third picture. Psyc was a year or two younger than in the other picture and she was laughing along with another girl. It was the other girl that caught his attention. Her smile was just as big as Psyc's and their arms were thrown over each other's shoulders. Her long blond hair flowed freely and her bangs fell into impossibly blue eyes. Even at eight years old, she was a beauty. His eyes clicked down to the words written on the white strip at the bottom in a child's unsteady scrawl. "Death Seeker and Goldie locks." A name under each girl.
"Lar'a," he asked hesitantly as she spread the blanket she kept wrapped in canvas over them. "Who's de femme in de picture wid yo'? De blon' one?"
"Just an old friend," Psyc said with a shrug before once again leaning against him.
"Bu' wha's 'er name?" Remy pressed. To his surprise, she laughed.
"You know… I don't remember. I suppose I knew it at one time, but after like the first week, we started using these silly little nicknames, we used them so long I guess I just forgot her real name." Psyc tipped her head back against his shoulder to see his face. "Why?"
"'cause Remy knows 'er," he said matter-of-factly.
Psyc sat up and turned to face him. "Are you sure?"
Remy nodded. "E'en a' eight years ol', dere's no mistakin' Belladonna Boudreaux."
"Belle?" Psyc said, shocked. "You mean…"
"Oui," Remy said, smirking a bit. "Loo's li'e dere wa' no reason t' introduce yo' two after all."
Psyc couldn't help but laugh. "I went to a party with one of my oldest friends and didn't even know it!"
Remy nodded and pulled her back against him. "Lar'a…Remy knows somet'in' been bot'erin' yo'," he said quietly, not wanting to pressure her. "Wha' 's i'?"
Psyc sighed and snuggled closer to him. "I promise I'll tell you tomorrow…I just don't want to have to tell it twice and Jazz needs to hear it. Probably Nathan too."
"Alrigh'," Remy said and let it drop.
Jazz woke, as usual when there wasn't early morning practice, to the sun shining on her face. Her first reaction was to growl and clamp a pillow over her eyes.
"Psyc," she mumbled through the pillow. "Close the curtain, would ya?" After an appropriate amount of time, she peeled the pillow away only to be assaulted once again by the rays. "God damn-it!" she swore savagely, reluctantly leaving her eyes uncovered so they would adjust to the light. Once she could see, she glanced around the room and shook her head.
Psyc's pillow was on the floor, the covers thrown back and the balcony door was open with the curtains blowing in a slight breeze.
The idiot went out to the tree last night and fell asleep, Jazz thought, laughing. She dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and a tight fitting turtleneck sweater, then out into the tree intent on bringing her friend in and dragging her down to breakfast.
Jazz went as quietly as she could through the branches, wanting to give Psyc as little warning as possible. When she reached the "platform" she stopped, smirking at what she saw. Gambit was asleep sitting with his back against the tree trunk and his arms around a sleeping Psyc, who sat between his legs leaning back against him. The heavy down blanket that was left on the platform wrapped in a waterproof tarp covered them form toe to waist.
"Well, isn't this cute?" she asked aloud. Remy opened his eyes and after a second's confusion, put his finger to his lips.
"Shhh," he told Jazz, who just smirked even more. "Don' wa'e 'er up."
Jazz shook her head. "What would the prof. say if he caught you two out here?" she teased.
Remy smirked. "Da's wha' de rooms are fo'?" he offered.
Jazz laughed and shook her head again. "What were you doing out here anyway?"
Remy shrugged as well as he could without waking the girl in his arms. "Lar'a came ou', Remy followed," he told her, then added, "go ge' Nathan, she sai' she ha' somet'in' t' tell us."
Jazz nodded. "Alright, you wake her up, I'll go get Nate." She turned and retraced her steps. It wasn't hard to find Nathan he was down at breakfast.
Ah, the good ol' days, Jazz thought wistfully, back when breakfast truly existed and I got to eat it! She sighed and decided to get it over with.
"Sorry big guy," she told Nathan with a grin, "but looks like you've got to skip the second course."
Nathan was reaching for the juice pitcher when Jazz grabbed his arm and started to pull him away.
"Hey," Nathan said, looking forlornly over his shoulder. "Why are you pulling me away form my food?"
"Because Psyc has something she want s to tell us and you can always get more later."
Gambit watched Jazz walk away, and then looked down at Psyc. He wasn't sure how long they had sat there before falling asleep. His back was slightly sore from sitting against the tree, but it wasn't bad. It would have been quite chilly had he been alone in the tree, but with Psyc leaning against him, he was actually quite warm.
"Lar'a," he said quietly in her ear. "C'mon, 's time t' wa'e up."
The girl groaned and shook her head slightly, moving closer to him and pulling the blanket up over her eyes.
"Uh-uh," she said childishly.
Remy laughed. "Uh-huh," he told her, peeling the blanket away. "Jazz wen' t' ge' Nathan an' yo' nee' t' be awa'e t' tell us what yo' were gon t'."
Psyc sighed and reluctantly pulled away from him. "But…" she looked over her shoulder, showing a playful pout, "but I was comfy."
His response was to pull her back against him. "Remy ne'er sa' yo' 'ad t' ge' up…jus' wa'e up."
Psyc laughed and once again pulled away from him. "I need to get dressed," she reminded him indicating her nighty. "Can you fold up the blanket an I'll be right back?" He nodded and she pressed a quick kiss to his lips before heading back to the room. Remy watched her go and shook his head. He couldn't stand I the limited room of the platform without his upper body going into the upper branches, so he folded the blanket while sitting. He tucked it back into the tarp bag and put it in its spot in the upper branches. By the time he was done, Psyc was back. She was dressed similarly to Jazz, only her sweater was red, not black.
"'ow much longer d' yo' t'ink 's gonna ta'e Jazz t' ge' back wid Nathan?" he asked as she sat beside him. She shrugged.
"Not long," she said just as the two others arrived.
"Alright Psyc," Nathan said sullenly without preamble. "What do you have to tell us?" Jazz shoved him playfully.
"Don't mind him," she told Psyc and Remy. "I dragged him way from his meal. But you can tell us your news anyway."
Psyc looked around and took a deep breath. They weren't going to like what she had to say. "I'm leaving."
"You're what!" All three of her friends spoke at once.
"I'm leaving." Psyc spoke slowly and clearly so there was no way they could mishear her, "and soon."
"Why?" It was, to her surprise, Nathan who broke the silence.
"There's something I have to do."
"Stop being vague," Jazz said tightly, "and tell us what's going on."
Psyc looked from one person to another, and saw the same determined expression. She sighed knowing they wouldn't let her out of the tree until she explained. "Uncle Nick needs my help…" she started. She told them everything. Remy and Jazz both knew parts of what she told bit now she left nothing out. As she told the tale, the sun drifted lazily across the sky. She had started at a mere hour after sunrise, but by the time she was done, it was well past noon. No one interrupted. They all sat listening as she told her story starting with the day her parents died and ending with the conversation in the graveyard.
"And you trust this guy!" Jazz demanded. "You're going to go running off to your death just because some 'uncle' from your past shows up?" Her voice was tight with the anger Psyc knew she was struggling to control. "Are you so stupid that you think you might own him something?" Psyc could tell by her look that she wanted to continue her rant, but instead she closed her mouth with an audible click as her teeth came together.
"Wai' un minute." Gambit spoke for the first time. "I' dis de same guy dat yo' tol' off fo' comin' 'ere b'fore de break?" Psyc nodded. "Den Remy gotta 'free wid Jazz. Why 'n de worl' yo' wan' t' do 'im any favors?"
"It's not just him," Psyc said trying to stay calm when her friends were so angry. "This guy is virtually collecting kids. It's not adults that are flocking to him, thinking he can protect them, make their lives nice and 'perfect' again. It's kids, people our age and under, and he's exploiting them. He's using their naivety and hope against them to make them thin his way is right and that using their powers for war is the only answer." She lost the battle and rage dripped from her voice though she managed to keep it at a normal volume. "If those kids actually fight for him they will die. They will be viewed as a national, if not global threat and the army will throw every thing they have at them. It'll be a bloodbath."
"'ow d' yo' know da's de army's plan?" Remy asked, skeptical, but no longer dead set against her.
"Because I saw it," Psyc said with a sigh. "I searched Fury's mind to make sure he wasn't bull-shitting me just to get another spy. I may not be able to make them leave, but I can make sure they are prepared."
"So this isn't about Fury or the government," Jazz said, her eyes sparkling now that realization dawned. "It's about kids like us and making sure they have a fighting chance."
Psyc nodded. "He thought he'd got me back. The 'good little soldier' that had trained beside him… he was wrong. All he did was give me the info I needed to try and help a couple idiots out of something way over their heads."
"I'm in," Jazz said without hesitation. Nathan was only a breath behind.
Remy looked from one person to the next. "Yo' all jus' a bunch a do-gooders. Eva t'ink what'll 'appen i' yo' still dere when all dis fightin' star's?"
Jazz shrugged. "We kick some cooperate ass, what else? You comin' to the party or not, Cajun?"
"Yo' t'ink Remy gon' le' 'er," Remy nodded toward Psyc, "ou' o' 'is sigh' af'er wha' 'appened las' time?"
Psyc resisted the urge to throw her arms around them all, but instead just grinned. "Let's get some lunch, then we can start planning our mischief making."
"What makes you think she'll do it?" Nick Fury's second-in-command asked for the hundredth time.
"She's John's daughter," Fury said with a smirk, "that's all it'll take."
"It's been over a week, sir," the colonel pointed out. "Perhaps we should start looking for another recruit." The man's suggestion was made pointless as a silent red light started blinking.
Fury's smirk turned to a grin. "That's my girl," he said, almost proudly. "She's been a good soldier since she was born. She won't let us down."
Please reveiw. Any comments welcome.