A/N: Look at me, coming in exactly a week later. Thanks to the ever wonderful Wolf, who is a both a great reader and a great friend.
Chapter 2: December 14
On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…
Jean corners Remy by the pistachio bowl. "What are you doing?" she hisses.
Remy pauses with a handful of pistachio nuts halfway to his mouth. "Uh," he says.
Jean glares menacingly. Remy tries to put the nuts in his mouth to buy time, but Jean waves her hand and the nuts fly back into the bowl. Remy sighs sadly. He likes pistachios and now stupid Warren Worthington III is ruining even that.
"I know you're up to something, Remy LeBeau," Jean says. She leans in close as if to intimidate him. It would work except that Remy has seen Jean in pajamas with ducks on them. It was very cute and now whenever she tries to scare him, he just remembers the ducks.
"I'm warning you," Jean continues. "If you mess up our Christmas plans, or embarrass me in front of Warren with some sort of shenanigans, I will make you regret it."
How? a small part of Remy wonders, interestedly. She wouldn't actually hurt Remy would she? So what is it exactly that she's going to do?
Remy stomps that little voice flat and shoves it into the bayou. The last thing he needs is for Jean to pick up on a stray thought and decide to answer the question.
"Remy would never do something to ruin Christmas," he says instead, indignantly. Excuse you, Miss Jeanie, Remy loves Christmas. He doesn't say anything about Warren.
She narrows her eyes at him. "See that you don't," she says, like a hoity-toity butler on that Down Town show that Rogue pretends not to like.
Jean leaves Remy standing forlornly by the pistachio bowl and goes off to schmooze Warren some more.
Not, Remy thinks darkly, that he hasn't been schmoozed quite enough by Bobby and Kitty and Rogue.
This day is not, Remy admits, going exactly as he had hoped.
First, he'd woken up to find that someone had changed the well-established mansion rule that "family breakfast" was at eight in the morning, and if you missed it, there was always food in the kitchen. Nooo, though, Warren Worthington III always eats at 6:30 AM, every day, and we can't just let him eat alone. And besides, Choco-Lots are not a healthy breakfast, Remy.
Remy loves his Choco-Lots, and he's not best pleased that someone ate them all this morning.
The second thing that is making this day less than jolly is that Rogue has not spoken to Remy all day. It has been almost twelve hours, and not a word. Remy thinks he might be going into withdrawal.
The third and final thing making Remy's life a misery is Jean Grey's sudden suspicions of nefarious behavior on Remy's part. He is highly offended. And worse, she has Scotty helping her, so every time Remy turns around today, he finds one of them breathing down his neck.
It's making Remy's day plans very difficult.
"What are you doing, Remy?" Scott asks a few hours later, popping up next to Remy like a deranged jack-in-the-box. Remy clutches his cell phone to his chest and immediately wants to kick himself. There is literally no reason to hide what he's doing, so why does he feel like shuffling away and hissing "My precious" at Scott?
"If you must know," he says, "Remy is talking to his frère."
Scott takes a moment to translate that and Remy waits patiently.
"Your brother?" Scott confirms. "Why, what's up?"
Remy stares at him. "He's Remy's brother," he says slowly. "Remy likes talking to him. He keeps Remy updated on what's happening in New Orleans. We like each other." I miss him, Remy does not add. Scott doesn't need to know all the mushy bits.
"Oh," says Scott, as though the concept of actually liking your family has never crossed his mind. "Well, why are you talking to him out here?" he looks around Ororo's greenhouse suspiciously, as though he expects Remy to be hiding some kind of dastardly plot in the gardenias.
"Well," Remy says, "there wasn't anyone here," he gives Scott a pointed look, "a minute ago."
Scott, completely missing Remy's pointed look, says, "It's hot up here. Why don't you come down inside? No one will bother you. Especially if you just go to your own room."
Remy considers. He actually had forgotten that he has his own room in the mansion. For some reason, the presence of Warren Worthington III seems to fill the entire Institute, leaving Remy with no recourse but to escape to the very top, where Storm keeps her greenhouse warm and cozy and private, which honestly is what Remy needs when he's conversing with his family.
"Merci, Scotty," he says finally, "but Remy's good up here." He flashes a charming smile. His smile is very charming, and sometimes it even works on Scott. Worth a try, either way.
"Well," Scott says reluctantly, torn between suspicion and loyalty to Jean and a definite sense of propriety that says you can't eavesdrop on someone's private conversation with their family. Remy has never found this to be a practical rule of society, but then again, Remy also doesn't believe that "burglar proofing" is a real thing, so. "Alright then. Come down when you're finished talking then, okay? You shouldn't be all alone all day."
"Sure," Remy waves him away and he goes back downstairs. Scott is trying to catch him off guard, he's sure. Lull Remy into a false sense of security and then catch him in the act of shenanigans. Well, it won't work. Remy just won't play the game.
Pleased with himself and also annoyed with Scott, Remy scowls as he punches his brother's contact picture and holds the phone to his ear.
"Remy?" Henri's voice is warm and happy and Remy feels himself relaxing without even meaning to. His brother's constant insistence that Remy is never an intrusion and never bothering him is a lifeline that has kept Remy from curling up in a ball and refusing to move on more than one bad day since leaving Louisiana. "Mon frère petite, I have missed you so!"
Ah, Henri. Completely unconcerned with his manly image, absolutely secure in his masculinity, and totally devoted to making sure his little brother knows that he is loved, no matter how mushy he has to get in order to do so.
Remy misses him so much it hurts.
"Hi, Henri," he says around the lump in his throat, "how's it going?"
Henri laughs. "Are you asking 'cause you want to know, or 'cause Tante and Père and Mercy won't stop calling you?"
Remy huffs. "Remy wants to know!" he protests. "But…"
Henri laughs again. "Everything is fine. No one hurt, no one sick. They're calling for different reasons."
"And those would be?" Remy asks hopefully. If he can get Henri to tell him, then he can just text Mercy and Tante his answers. Père, he'll have to think of something else. Jean-Luc isn't really getting the hang of texting.
"Not telling," Henri sings. "I won't be calling the wrath of Mercy LeBeau down on me. You'll have to answer the phone."
Remy shudders. "Uh, merci, but Remy think he'll just stay in the dark."
"Your funeral," Henri says.
"Probably," Remy agrees glumly. Below him, he can hear the indistinct shouting and laughing that always pervades the Institute. Everyone is downstairs, together. Sure, Warren Worthington III is down there, but so is Kitty and Rogue and Kurt and even Bobby, who is ridiculous but also a good kid that Remy actually likes.
And Remy is up here alone.
With the gardenias.
"Remy," Henri is saying.
"Yeah?" he answers quietly. His brother's voice is gentle.
"Why did you call? For real?"
Remy closes his eyes and scowls fiercely at the ceiling. "Remy wanted to know what the family keeps calling about."
"Remy."
He swallows. "Miss you," he mumbles. "Miss you, and everybody else. And Rogue won't talk to me. And the partridge is too perfect and someone's coming after the X-Men and Jean is being mean to me and it's not fair because it's Christmas." He's whining and he wishes he wasn't, but it's been a rough day already, even though it's only noon.
Henri is quiet for a moment and then he says, "Okay, so all of that is probably real important in your mind, but for me, there's one bit that's just a little more important, so –someone is coming after the X-Men?"
Remy sighs. "My friend Todd overheard some shady characters talking about their boss. Apparently, he wants 'em to kidnap the X-Men for experiments or something like that. And I can't tell anyone."
"Why not?" Henri says sharply. "Remy, in case you forgot, you're an X-Man now, and I ain't having you running around getting kidnapped by crazy scientists."
"I know, Henri," Remy says, plucking a dead leaf from one of the chrysanthemum plants and charging it with energy that crackles and outlines the leaf in pink. "But it's Christmas, and Remy don't have proof. Can't just go around saying that someone is coming to attack us when all Remy has to go on is the word of a kid who may or may not be on drugs."
Henri sighs. "Drugs?" he asks wearily, like he doesn't want to know. Remy shakes his head even though Henri can't see him.
"Probably," he says. "But he's telling the truth, Henri. He's never been high when I see him. He heard what he said."
"Okay," Henri says. "Then, please, be careful, frère. And promise me,"
"What?" Remy says.
"Promise me," Henri says firmly, "that you will tell the other X-Men about this. Don't go off by yourself and try to solve it alone. If this is serious, Remy, then you could get in real trouble, and no one is gonna know if you don't tell someone. Promise me."
"I promise," Remy says.
"Good, merci," Henri says. "And Remy?"
"Yeah?" Remy says, feeling better just for talking to Henri for a few minutes.
"Stop moping. And don't blow up Ms. Ororo's greenhouse." He hangs up and Remy stares at the phone.
"How did –ah!" He sucks all the kinetic energy out of the leaf before it explodes and takes out the south windows.
Loud, raucous laughter that Remy knows is Kitty listening to Rogue do impersonations of Logan floats up from below. Remy stares at the peony an inch from his face and glares.
"Fine," he says to the peony. "Remy will go down and be nice. Happy?"
The peony does look happier. He sticks his tongue out at it and leaves the greenhouse.
000
Jean likes Remy, okay, she really does. He's a good man, a little rough around the edges, but mostly very nice, kindhearted, and an excellent asset to the team. He's easy on the eyes too, but Jean doesn't entertain that thought often. Scott is equally nice to look at, and also isn't head over heels for Rogue.
The point is, Jean doesn't hate Remy. She just isn't stupid. She knows that when someone starts a prank war, or sabotages a training session just for kicks, or causes some kind of general mischief around the mansion, nine times out of ten that someone will be Remy. And frankly, she doesn't want Christmas to turn into some kind of prank fest. She wants Warren to think that they're all mature enough to spend his valuable time with. He's their friend, and she wants him to know that they take that seriously.
Something seems a little skewed about that thought, but Jean doesn't have time to analyze her own brain. She's too busy analyzing Remy's.
"Do you think he'll play a trick on Warren?" she asks Scott worriedly. A few months ago, Remy had offered to show Kurt a card trick that had ended with the card exploding in Kurt's hand. Kurt wasn't hurt at all, and the explosion was very small, but Jean had remembered, and subsequently banned all card tricks inside the mansion.
It was unfortunate that Remy felt singled out by the decree, but Jean was just trying to keep them all safe.
"Jean, I think Remy is feeling a little homesick," Scott says. "I doubt he's planning to do anything at all to Warren."
Jean blinks. Homesick? Remy is homesick? But he is home, why–
"Oh," she says softly. "Oh, poor Remy."
Scott smiles at her. Jean can be obsessive and decisive and ruthless when it comes to getting her way sometimes, but she is also tenderhearted and treats all of the younger mansion residents like she's their big sister.
Remy is not, actually, younger than Jean except for a few months, but Scott knows that Jean still includes him in her protective bubble.
"Why doesn't he go home and see his family?" she asks. "He knows he can leave whenever he wants, right? We aren't trapping him here like Magneto did."
Scott shrugs. "I don't know why he isn't going home. But he was upstairs in the greenhouse talking to his brother and he looked… sad."
Jean's face is determined. "Well, then, he should come join the rest of us. That way he won't be alone, and we'll be able to keep up with whatever mischief he's planning."
"Do you really think he's planning anything?" Scott asks skeptically. Jean gives him a sardonic look.
"Scott, he may be homesick, but his basic personality hasn't changed. You've seen the way he is about Warren. I don't want any pranks this Christmas. No tricks, no unexpected precipitation in someone's bed, no food fights, and nothing set on fire. Remember Thanksgiving?"
Scott shudders as he remembers Thanksgiving.
"Okay," he says, "so we keep our eyes peeled for any sign that Remy is planning something. Good?"
"Good," Jean nods, satisfied. "No problem."
"Jean?"
She spins around and beams at the newcomer. "Warren! What's up?"
Warren rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "I was just wondering if anyone was up for a training session in the Danger Room. It's been a while since I tried out my hand-to-hand skills."
"Sure!" Jean chirped. "Someone's always up for training around here, right guys?" She turns and gives Kurt and Bobby a pointed look. The latter groans.
"Fine," he says. "But if I get knocked in the face with those wings again, I'm freezing the whole thing."
000
Remy joins everyone for dinner and eyes their sweaty faces disgustedly.
"Showers," he says as Kurt sits down beside him.
"What?" Kurt asks, mouth already half-full of bread rolls. Remy rolls his eyes.
"Showers," he repeats. "They don't hurt, Remy promise."
Kurt swallows. "Haha," he says. "We were training in the Danger Room and didn't have time to change before dinner."
"Training?" Remy asks. "Why? Aren't you on vacation for Christmas?"
"Eh," Kurt waves a three-fingered hand, narrowly missing the tip of Remy's nose. "Warren wanted to do some training."
Remy's mood plummets. "Oh. Him." So he has Warren Worthington III to thank for this sweat-ridden meal. Fantastic. "That's… nice."
"Yeah." Kurt glances at him from the corner of his eye. His tail curls around and pokes Remy in the shoulder blade. "What's your problem with him anyway?"
Remy's shoulders hunch and he hesitates for a moment before answering with the truth. "Rogue," he admits. "It's stupid, and petty, but Rogue likes him and not me and he likes her back because he's not a moron and it's just… stupid."
Kurt stares at him. "Wait," he says, shaking his head, "back up. Are you saying that you think Rogue doesn't like you?"
Remy does not pout. He maybe sulks a little. "Oui."
"Uhhhh," says Kurt. "That's… uh."
"What?" Remy asks.
"Frankly, that is stupid," Kurt says dryly. Remy scowls.
"Thanks," he says grumpily.
"But," Kurt says. "But. If you really think that Warren is trying to win Rogue's heart, then what are you going to do about it?"
Remy glares. "Remy is thinking."
"Okay," Kurt says. "If I were you, I would be thinking about how to get Warren out of the way." He shrugs. "Just saying." He takes a sip of his orange juice.
Remy thinks about it. "Remy has a friend in the Assassin's Guild," he says slowly.
Kurt chokes on his orange juice. "What –no! No, no, what the heck, Remy?"
"You said Remy should get rid of him!" Remy protests.
"Not like that!" Kurt yelps. "I meant like, get him away from Rogue so you can make your move, not murder!"
Remy had not actually been considering murder, but the fantasy of sending Belladonna after Warren Worthington III is too hilarious to not let it play out in his imagination for a second.
"Fine," he says sulkily. "But Remy don't have time to try and convince Rogue to love him. Jean and Scott keep following Remy around everywhere!"
Kurt grins. It's very sharp.
"I suggest you find a hiding place then."
000
A middle-aged man with gray in his hair and a neatly pressed suit should not be so terrifying. His various henchmen whisper about him when he isn't in the building but don't dare when he's within the city limits. He always seems to know when he has a traitor.
"I think," he says, walking through his prepared laboratory, smiling benignly at the terrified doctors, "that we need to discover all of the possibilities and potential that mutants may hold." He stops and gives the unit commander a slow grin. "Don't you agree?"
"Sure, boss," the commander says, swallowing hard.
No, not really, but the commander isn't stupid, okay?
The man in the suit smiles like a demented grandfatherly dentist. "Excellent," he says.
… two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree!
A/N: Here's hoping Essie knows how to rom-com with plot.
Additional, No-Longer-A-Spoiler Disclaimer: I don't really own the unit commander…