-Chapter Seventeen-

- Half-truths -

Remy wanted to die. This was some new form of torture, he just knew it. No way in hell was any expected to survive something like this. "Hey Gumbo! Pick up the pace!" Called a gruff voice as his feet stumbled slightly and sleep deprivation threaten to remove his coordination.

Remy clenched his jaw at the jeering tone in Logan's voice. Unwilling to let the Canadian think he couldn't handle the conditioning, Remy concentrated on keeping his breathing even and set a steady, yet quick pace as he and the other students finished running laps around the massive training room. He finished seconds after Scott and collapsed on a bench, drinking deeply from a water bottle. Moments later Rogue plopped beside him, grabbing the water. Too tired to complain, he leaned against the wall and watched as the last few teenagers sprinted past Logan and unceremoniously sat on the floor. Even Kitty was too winded to complain how filthy their clothes would get from the floor.

Logan stood in front of the group, ignoring their fatigue. "Alright. Ya were slower than last week, but it wasn't too bad. We're gonna keep th' rest of this practice simple: I'm gonna pair ya off ta work on one-on-one combat. Cyclops and Gumbo, ya two are up first."

The two boys eyed each other wearily as they made their way to the center mat. Scott leaned in close as Logan turned around to yell at John for playing with a lighter. "Just so you know, this training session was designed for the senior x-men; it's pretty rough. I'll go easy if you want me too."

"I t'ink I can handle it."

"Have it your way."

Both fell into ready positions as the rest of the group drew near. Logan bellowed the command and the fighting began. Scott wasted no time; within seconds he threw a well-aimed punch, followed by a kick.

Remy easily blocked each attack. He had been taught how to fight early on; it was part of the training at the Thieves Guild. The skills that had taught to him were kicking into action. He didn't try to attack, he acted defensively, noting Scott's fighting style.

He had to admit, the X-man was an exceptional fighter. Almost as good as Julien . . . A flash of a memory and the stench of blood filled Remy's mind. His split second distraction caused him to hesitate and a roundhouse kick caught him in the side.

Stumbling slightly and clutching his side, Remy decided to end it. With a few well-placed punches and a final kick, Scott crumpled to the ground in defeat.

Logan hurried over. "Not bad, Gumbo." He said as he hauled Scott to his feet. "Not bad."

Remy nodded once in acknowledgement before turning towards Scott. "Y' did good too, but I'll go easy on y' next time, non?" He gave a pained smirk which the other boy returned as a sneer.

"Alright, alright, clear the mat." Logan gave both of the teens a light push towards the other kids. "Next, I want Wanda and Kitty . . ."

Remy swayed slightly and Logan's voice began to fade. His vision swam in front of him as his mind was pulled back to another night when had felt the same as this moment. Realizing he had yet to let go of his side, he slowly lifted his hand. Crimson stained his palm, dripping from his fingers. He could hear faint gasps and cries as he sank to his knees.

Then the world went black.

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Dr. Hank McCoy glanced up from his work as Logan rushed in, a limp student in his arms. "Now really, Logan. I thought I told you to lighten up in your training . . ." The furry physician chided as he began to pull the bloodied shirt back.

The Canadian growled in reply. "This wasn't my fault."

"No." Murmured the doctor, more to himself than his friend. "This wound is several days old, or week or so maybe." He began to apply pressure and clean around the wound. "This obviously did not receive medical attention for it. Any doctor would agree it needed stitches."

"What happened?"

"He was cut by something. It was not deep enough to be fatal, just deep enough to cause pain and, as you can see, blood loss. Honestly, I am surprised this did not happen sooner," Replied the doctor, while quickly and efficiently stitching the four inch gash.

"But why did he pass out?" Asked Logan, still staring at the pale face of the young Cajun.

"From the pain, most likely."

The two men were interrupted as there was a thud at the door. Several faces were peering in, curious and worried about Remy's condition. Logan heaved a sigh. "Guess I better go fill 'em in and tell Chuck what happened."

Hank smiled slightly. "Good luck telling Ororo you landed her friend's child in the infirmary."

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"I'm not so sure we should be doin' this. . ."

"C'mon. I showed y' de shit dey were tryin' t' shove down my throat, didn' I?"

"Then why didn' ya drag Jean outta bed? She's th' one that cooked it!"

"I t'ink I damaged Scott's ego enough f'r one day wit' out goin' int' his girlfriend's bedroom in de middle o' de night."

Rogue couldn't stop the smile that tugged on her lips. "Good point." Flipping the light switch, she led Remy into the kitchen. Standing in front of the counter, she turned toward him and asked. "Well? Whaddya want?"

Remy stood deep in thought for several minutes. Finally, he proclaimed, "Peanut butter an' jelly," with a giant smirk on his face.

Shaking her head, she got out the ingredients and made two sandwiches, one for each of them. Moments later, both were perched on the counter and munching on their food. The familiarity of the event triggered a memory in Rogue's mind.

Two young children sat on the spotless counter, one a girl with auburn pigtails, the other a boy with a mess of russet hair. Next to them a women who looked very much like the young girl. She was meticulously spreading peanut butter onto a slice of bread.

"Make 'em with grape jelly, mama!"

"No Marie, strawberry! Grape is gross."

"Don' listen ta him, make it with grape."

"Don't worry, I'll make one of each, Marie."

"Rogue . . . Rogue . . . Marie!"

"What?" Shaken from her daydream, the teen turned towards her oldest friend, blatantly ignoring the use of her real name.

"Why'd y' change y' name?" Remy had lost all of his teasing air from earlier and was giving her a curious, albeit confused, look.

She squirmed beside him. "Everyone does here at Xavier's. We have code names f'r missions an' stuff."

"Y' changed yours in Mississippi, not here."

She sighed. "I . . . I wasn't Marie anymore. I wasn't th' same as I used ta be. It jus' didn' feel right ta go by Marie, ya know?" She laughed. "'Course ya don'. I must sound like an' idiot."

Remy shook his head and answered softly. "Actually, I know 'zactly what y' mean."

They sat in silence for quite some time, a heavy blanket had settled over their conversation. Eventually, Remy ventured to break it. "So, dis name t'ing. Everyone does it here?"

Rogue nodded. "Pretty much."

"Logan?"

"Wolverine."

"Ororo?"

"Storm."

"Scott?"

"Cyclops."

". . . . Is St. John . . . Pyro?" She nodded in affirmation. "Well, dat clears a few t'ings up."

"So what about ya?"

"Me what?"

"What's ya code name gonna be? If ya with th' X-men, ya gonna need one."

"Y' pick one."

"Well . . . What's ya power?"

"I blow t'ings up." Rogue raised an eyebrow. Sighing, Remy dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out a playing card. Quickly it began to glow a bright magenta hue. Turning to Rogue, he explained. "I charge somet'ing up, almost anyt'ing works, den when I let go, it blows up." He uncharged the card, shoved it back in his pocket and gave her an expectant look.

"Hmm . . . cards . . . Dealer?"

"No."

A sly smile crossed her face. "Gumbo."

"Hell no."

"How 'bout . . . Ragin' Cajun?"

"How 'bout . . . no?"

"Then ya suggest something."

"Easy. M' nickname fr'm back home."

"Which is . . . ?"

"Le Diable Blanc."

She rolled her eyes. "The Professor isn' gonna let ya go 'round callin' yaself th' White Devil."

"I wouldn'. It sounds better in French."

"Whatevea . . . How 'bout Gambit?"

"Gambit? Dat's jus' stup- . . . y' know, dat's not so bad. I like it." As their conversation hit a lull, a clock down the hall sounded twice, reminding them of the earlier hour. "Well, guess we better head t' bed-" He stopped mid-sentence and mid-stretch as pain hot through his side. "Damn, dat hurts."

Rogue lightly traced the outline of the bandage through the fabric of his shirt. "What happened? Rumor has it that the Doc said that someone stabbed ya."

Now it was Remy's turn the squirm uncomfortably. "It's no big deal. Jus' somet'in' dat happened befo' I left home."

She stared at her hands. "Was it- . . . I mean, ya nevea talked 'bout ya family much . . . I jus' wondered cuz ya dad-"

"No." His voice wasn't offended, but was firm enough to prevent doubt.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't've assumed somethin' like that. I jus'-"

"It's okay. Let's jus' say it's de reason I left home an' leave it at dat."

"Alright."

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She strode down the halls receiving stares from the students. She couldn't blame them; how often were people of her type of reputation invited into the mansion without escort?

Following the directions Xavier had giving her, she headed towards the Rec room where her daughter was supposed to be. As she neared the room she heard something she hadn't heard in years: her daughter's laughter.

Slowly, she pushed open the door. Rogue sat watching a movie with a brunette boy, both laughing and looking extremely content. Tentatively, she called out. "Rogue?"

Said girl jumped at the sound of her mother's voice. Both the teens turned to stare at her. "Mom?"

"Hi."

"Whaddya doin' here?"

"I came to see if you were still coming to dinner tomorrow." She said hopefully.

"Only for Kurt."

A purposefully cleared throat drew both of the women's attention. "It's nice t' see y', Ms. Darkholme," said Remy cordially.

"Uh . . . You, too." Replied the confused woman, shaking the proffered hand.

"Mom, ya remember Remy, right?" Said Rogue, giving Raven a meaningful look.

Raven's eyes flickered from the young man, to her daughter, then back again. "Well, yes but- . . . what does . . . You're Remy?" Her eyes widened it shock as she noticed the physical traits that linked the young man in front of her to the young boy with whom she had spent so much time. "Little Remy DeClour?"

Remy winced slightly. "Uh, its LeBeau, actually. I got 'dopted shortly after I left Baton Rouge."

"Sorry, I didn't know. But look at you! All grown up and handsome to boot."

Remy blushed scarlet and mumbled a thanks as Rogue rolled her eyes. "Way ta make a situation awkward, mother."

"Like you didn't notice, Rogue."

"Mother!"

Raven face quickly went from happiness to anger in seconds. "I don't appreciate that tone from you. I am trying to make us a family-"

"What, by actin' like ya nevea left?"

"I said I was sorry. I've explained the situation to you time and again. I made what I thought was the best decision at the time. But this is a two way street, Rogue. I can't do all the work. If you, Kurt, and I are going to be a family, you have to pull your own weight."

"Who says I want ta be a family?"

Silence hung in the air. Raven's voice was considerably lower than before. "Look, let's just forget about being a family for now and just concentrate on getting along during dinner tomorrow. If not for us, then Kurt. You may not care about me, but you do care about him."

"Fine."

Raven turned to leave, but then remembered their audience. "Remy, why don't you join us tomorrow; it'll be like old times." She said with a tightlipped smile.

Feeling trapped between her anxious eyes and Rogue's pleading ones, Remy gave the only answer he could. "Sure sounds like fun." Giving his most charming grin, he was glad neither of the woman seemed to notice he was lying through his teeth.

There ya go. I'm not so happy with this chapter, but I wanted to post it before I decided to delete it all. This chapter is for Simba317 who asked for a longer chapter. ( 2000+ words, hoped it satisfied ya at least a little!) I'm too lazy to reply to all your reviews right now, so let's do it this way: THANK YOU!