Chapter 10: Madame Sosthene

"Pickin' on 'er ain't never gon' get old," Remy thought smugly to himself. Brushing aside his coat, he shoved both hands in the front pockets of his torn jeans. His footsteps echoed noisily off the floor as he sang quietly to himself. "Madam Sosthene, mais donnex moi bot' chere 'tite fille, cette le J'ai aime depuis l'age de quatorze ans. Si vous veux pas—"

He stopped suddenly, a look of fear across his face. He looked nervously up and down the hall as his hands padded the side of his coat. "Non…Can't be…" Beginning to panic, he quickly hit a hand against his back pocket. He immediately exhaled a sigh of relief. Reaching in, he pulled out his trusty deck of cards and replaced them in the inside breast pocket of his coat.

He shrugged, the grin returning to his face as he continued down the hall toward the Professor's office. "Si vous veux pas m' la donner j'vous fais serment j'va' la voler j'va la passer par la fenetre et la mener a la maison. Oh, Madam Sosthene—hmph!"

Remy's body slammed against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. He yelled after the blue form stomping away from him. "'ey! Remy's walkin' here, homme!" He regained his composure but stopped mid-step before he could get far. 'enry? He turned around, watching Hank angrily turn the corner with obvious difficulty. "Beast?"

"Henry! You can't!" Jeans voice rang out from a connecting hallway.

Remy turned his head in time to see her come up beside him. "Hi, Remy." She didn't stop.

Standing with a look of confusion on his face, he muttered a response. "'ey, Jean."

He shook his head, finally reacting to the situation. "'ey!" He grabbed Jean's arm before she could get away. "Jean! What's he doin' here!"

She responded in obvious frustration, "He lives here, Remy!"

She tried to walk on. He pulled her back. "Not as of late, he don'!"

Jean frantically looked for him at the end of the hall. "I have to go after him. He should be in bed."

"De man should be in de grave, chere."

Shocked, Jean flashed her green eyes up at him. She looked again at the end of the hall, realizing he was long gone by now. Once more, her gaze shifted to Remy's hand still holding her arm tightly. She frowned.

"Sorry, belle." He let go.

"It's okay." The two stood there in silence for a few moments.

"Jean?"

"Remy?" It clicked. "Remy! You're back!" She threw her arms around his neck.

He hugged her back, chuckling quietly. "'Least one lady be 'appy ta see me."

Jean pulled back, grinning up at him knowingly. "What? Rogue giving you a hard time already?"

Remy frowned. "She's a spitfire, dat girl." His trademark grin reappeared. "Nothin' Remy can't handle."

"I'm sure. You should—"

"—talk to de professor. I been told. Think I'm 'bout due fo' some answers right now."

"What's to answer? Henry…well…got better."

"Got better! Chere, de man was dead an' now he's marchin' aroun' like eve'ything's no'mal. Now, Remy admit he ain't seen eve'ything, but how is dat poss'ble?"

Jean simple shrugged. "We're X-Men. It's what we do I guess."

He considered her words for a moment before nodding slowly. "Think I can accept dat."

Putting a hand on his arm, Jean smiled warmly. "Go talk to the Professor."

Once again, Logan stood over the table in the War Room, pictures and files scattered everywhere. It's been over a week.

A week and no further information. Logan ran through the list of obvious possibilities in his head. Weapon X? It couldn't be. S.H.I.E.L.D.? They wouldn't go this far.

"How long have you been in here?" From the door, Scott's voice caused Logan to jump a little. Scott grinned slightly. "Must be in pretty deep. You're not exactly easy to startle."

His hands holding his weight against the table, Logan simply looked down at a file in front of him. "Any information yet?"

Scott stood next to him and picked up a neighboring folder. "That's why I came here."

Suddenly interested, Logan stood straight. "What? Whadya know?"

"Peter. He and Kitty talked to Jean earlier."

"What's Kitty got to do with anything?"

"If it weren't for her, Peter wouldn't be here. He'd be off in Russia alone. He confides in her. Trusts her. She got him to tell Jean everything."

Growing impatient, "Like what?"

"Like Colonel Jacob Nast. He's in charge of the whole operation." Scott dropped a picture of the man onto the table in front of Logan. "The Professor looked him up. We've got a list of people and agencies he worked under, too." He set down another piece of paper.

Logan scanned the list quickly, but one name stood out among the rest. "Wraith."

"Exactly."

A growl escaped Logan's mouth. "I thought we cleaned 'em out!"

"We did—" Scott jumped slightly, startled by Logan's fists pounding hard on the metal table. "Hey, hey! Logan! It's not Weapon X. It's just a connection."

"If this son of a bitch worked under Wraith, you can bet his scent'll be all over it. So's this connected to Hank?"

"We don't know yet. His memory's still shaky. Jean scanned him this morning, but it drains her. She'll try again tomorrow." He watched as Logan's head fell again, dejection overwhelming his features. "Hey, we'll figure this one out. I promise."

Logan merely grunted as Scott left the room.

It was nearly half an hour before Logan's concentration was broken again. His ears perked, straining to hear what his nose smelled. He knew who it was before the man spoke.

"You certainly do move fast, don't you?"

Without turning around, Logan responded, "Why ain't ya in the medlab?"

"Hardly something you should concern yourself with, my friend."

"Whatdya want?"

"Stay away from her."

This caught Logan's attention. He spun around, a mere two feet between him and Hank. "Hey. She ain't your business anymore."

Hank moved forward. "On the contraire, Wolverine. She's my only business right now. She's my girlfriend, if you remember."

Was Hank honestly trying to threaten him? Logan took a step, his face inches from Hank's. "Was your girlfriend."

In a flash, Hank was in the air, his feet pummeling into Logan's chest. Logan hit the wall behind him before falling to the ground. Without hesitation, he leapt to his feet and, with a flick of his wrists, extended six claws. He stood in battle position, anger causing his veins to pop and his face to flush. "Bad move, Beast."

Firmly planted on the ground, Hank remained on his side of the War Room. "Look at you. The Wolverine. Claws popped and ready to do damage. Do you really think you deserve her?"

"It's been done, bub. Pick a new topic to harass me on."

"No, but this time it's different. Before you were simply crass, perhaps a little outspoken, and maybe possessed some small violent tendencies. But after what you did to Cyclops? Leaving him to die? No, Wolverine. You're not just an animal. You're a murderer."

"I don't wanna hurt you Beast." Hank mistakenly lunged across the room. Logan crouched low at the last minute, allowing Hank to mimic his own run in with the wall; but before he could rise to his feet, Logan pounced on him, his claws inches from Hank's throat. "That don't mean I won't."

"Hey!" The two men both looked to the door in surprise. They had each been too preoccupied to notice the woman enter the room.

"What in sam hill ya think ya'll are doin'? Git up ya bums!"

"This ain't your problem, Rogue."

"We can handle this."

Rogue snorted and rolled her eyes. "Obviously. Look, Ah honestly couldn't care less what the two o' you git into on yer own time, but there's a weather witch upstairs who's hurtin' real bad."

Logan snapped his head around to look at Rogue. "Why? What happened?"

Rogue held her hands up in front of her. "Hey, I ain't one ta pry." She caught a look at Hank before saying to Logan, "Now, sugah, why don't you go console your girl and let me handle this one."

Retracting his claws, Logan pushed himself up off of Hank who, in turn, stood next to him. Logan grabbed his leather jacket off the table and stormed out of the room, leaving Hank alone with a very irritated Rogue.

"Rogue, what's wrong? What's—"

"Aw, shut it, blue."

"Excuse me?"

Her eyes flashed, infuriated with the whole situation. "Ah know you been through a lot. Ah ain't even gonna pretend to undastand what it's like. But ya can't come waltzin' back in like nothin's changed. She moved on, a'right? Ya'll are jus' gonna have ta deal."

"Yes, she moved on to a murderer. Or have you forgotten?"

"Ah don't wanna hear it. Yer jus' jealous 'cause he got what you want."

"I don't simply want her, Rogue. I love—"

"An' if you loved her half as much as ya say ya do, ya'd let her go." Rogue spun on her heels, thinking to herself how happy she was to have won at least one argument that day.

Remy mounted the steps to the attic room and knocked softly at the door. When no one responded, he pushed the door open, looked around suspiciously, then walked in anyway.

A pile of men's clothes sat in the corner by the dresser with various other articles of clothing strewn about the room. Namely, Logan's jean jacket draped over a nearby chair. Why am I not surprised? Remy thought with a lopsided grin.

Thunder crashed above, nearly shaking the whole room. Even Remy was a little stunned by its intensity. Dat one's a little too close fo' me. He looked up toward the balcony, noticing a slight movement in the darkness. The French doors opened with a subtle gust of wind, allowing Ororo to enter her room.

Still standing by the door, leaning on his bowstaff, Ororo was none the wiser to his presence.

Until he spoke. "Dis all your fault, ma belle?"

Gambit's li'l song: Oh Madam Sosthene, give me your dear little daughter, the one I've loved since the age of fourteen. If you don't let me have her, I promise you that I'll steal her. I'll pass her through the window and take her home.