curt's crap: Yeah, I didn't get a chance to re-read Voodoo Child by Michael Reeves, so I'm not sure on the "let the good times roll" translation. When I check out the book again, if it's different, I'll fix it.

-----t-h-e---i-s-o-l-a-t-i-o-n---s-t-i-n-g-s-----

Chapter One

Remy looked down deeply into the amber depths of the shot before him. He wanted to drink it. But he felt too apathetic to everything right now to act on the desire.

Desire. There was a notion. He snorted derision.

Five days ago, he had discovered he had grown soft. While the life he led now was quite like the one he'd always followed -- uncertain, day-to-day, rough -- Remy had grown used to certain things being about.

Certain things like Marie. He had grown used to Marie, her startling hair and shy smiles. Waking up with her all cozy beside him. It was new to him. It had felt...warming.

He should have known -- he should have known -- it wouldn't last. Wasn't that how he lived his life? Moment to moment, never expecting anything to be about for longer than it was in that time, then and there. If it came back about, good. If not, laissez le bon rouler de tmes. Let the good times roll, don't be hampered by waiting, by nostalgia.

He'd broken his own code of living. Because of Marie.

Damn. But he'd been content. For the first time in his damned life, he'd been truly, happily contented. And now she'd just up and gone. Without a word, without...

He thought she had trusted him. Another notion, if there were. The runaway trusting the thief and vice versa. Remy, what ha' you done gotten yaself into, eh? Something far more complicated than a game of cards ever could be. Wearily, he scrubbed a hand over his face.

Marie was gone. But he was gonna find her. If he had to kidnap Kimana or Jensen or some other little telepath to do it. (Which he wouldn't, though it was an idea.) But he was gonna find her, and with that in mind he left the common room to search out John. Their fearless leader was probably still around the raven girl he brought back the day Remy had woken to find Marie gone. She -- the raven-black haired, leather-clad girl -- had taken priority, much to Remy's frustration. Hopefully, John was done initiating and letting this girl usurp Marie's importance.

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"You are an insufferable...pigheaded...jerk!" He didn't even have time to come up with a response as a chair flew across the room, breaking over his head as he ducked. John could easily say that it was becoming one of the worst encounters of his life.

"Yeah? Well, at least I'm not a rich, stuck up brat who's had everything served to me on a silver platter! Why the hell are you still here if you don't like anything I do?" he shouted. Morrigan -- or Raven, as he'd come to call her -- let out a frustrated scream and began storming around the table.

"If I was on the council, we wouldn't be having this argument," she shouted as she drew closer to him. Taking several steps back, he ducked as another chair came flying at him.

"Hey, you're the one who's being immature because I won't let you in on things. I mean, you're destroying the furniture because I told you 'no'. Jesus, were you never told no growing up?" She let out another shriek and tossed the closest item -- a rolled-up map -- at his head. Catching it, he tossed it onto the table and turned an incredulous look on the raven-haired woman across from him.

"My father told me to never take no for an answer, you...Scheißkopf," she replied, spitting each word with venom. He laughed, unsure as to what she had called him, but certain it wasn't anything nice.

"So, you were daddy's little princess growing up, huh? Well, guess what, sweetheart: Daddy isn't here to buy your way onto the council. So, give it up. I mean, you've been here for five days and I barely know your name and still don't know what your powers are! Look: you want in, prove to me I can trust you with these people's lives. Keep acting like a spoiled brat and I'll just ship you off to join the Canadian factions," he told her. He had a feeling he should have held his tongue on the last sentence, as her face darkened. Ducking another chair, he backed up some more. By the time he realized she wasn't even facing him anymore, he was backed up against the wall, with nowhere to go.

She was yelling something in another language as she paced in front of him, her speech rapidfire. He could only stand there and watch as she ranted. When she turned her furious glare on him, there was no way of getting away from whatever she would throw next.

"If you don't think you can trust me, dann dein Kopf ist leer, John Allerdyce. Since I have been here, I have done nothing to make you think you can't trust me. Why won't you let me on the council?" she demanded. She stomped a foot down and growled in frustration. Flinging her hair back from her face, she informed him proudly, "I work with electricity." And then she resumed her pacing.

Running a hand through his hair, the pyro let out a frustrated sigh. If she had of chosen any other time to ask, or if she had of been anyone else, he might have been more receptive to the idea. As it was, he needed another member. But she would have to earn her badges before she recieved them. He wasn't going to give her the easy road. And she needed to prove she was somewhat stable.

"You've been here five days. Maybe, say in five weeks, I'll let you on. Maybe in five months. It depends on how long it takes for me to feel assured I can trust you. And I'm not the only one who decides. Remy has a say, as does the rest of the council." Morrigan had glared, her ice blue eyes shooting daggers as John laid it out for her, before snorting her displeasure and pacing -- again. As she grabbed up something from the table, hand sparking blue as she tossed it up and down, trying not to hurl it at John as well, they were interrupted by a cough from the doorway.

John and Morrigan's heads jerked to face the noise: Remy stood at the doorway, arms folded across his chest, mouth curved in a vague smirk.

"You two quite done now, eh?"

He ducked as Morrigan threw whatever object she'd picked up from the table at him. The static around it as it sailed overhead made some of his bright auburn hair stand up.

"What is it, Remy?" John asked, warily walking past Morrigan -- keeping an eye on her -- as he went to take up an intact chair not far from his second.

Remy's eyes narrowed, unable to hide his annoyance as the reality that John really wasn't as concerned as he could be about Marie's disappearance sunk in. "I jus' wanted ya t' know I'm leavin'."

"Leaving?" John looked over as there was a soft thunk as Morrigan leant against the wall sullenly. He looked back to Remy, who was looking like he might flip, too.

"Leavin', John. I'm goin' and I'm gonna find out where Marie done went, since ya don' seem t' give a damn since she done shown up." Remy's demon eyes bore into Morrigan. The pissed off young woman only glared back. Remy turned back to John. "Yeah, so I'm gon' be outta here. I'll figure out how t' get in touch. But know I ain't comin' back till I find her, comprenez?"

These damned people and their foreign languages. "Yeah, I get it. Look --" John looked at Morrigan.

"Do you mind for a moment?" She narrowed her eyes, but pushed away from the wall to swish across the floor and out the door. Remy pulled it shut as soon as she was out it.

"She's a fuckin' handful. Look, Remy. I know I haven't done much about Marie. And it's inexcusable, really." He sighed. "I'm not gonna stop you, man. Go out, then. But come back, with or without her."

"It's gon' be wi' her, John. Come hell or high water."

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It had been raining hard in Memphis when she got off the bus. It hadn't stopped as she wandered down the streets, trying her best to look like she knew what the hell she was doing. Marie hated how heavily her cloak fell against her: sodden, clinging, restricting. And it was the air was muggy to boot. Smothering. As she cowered in an alley doorway, she longed for what she'd come to call normal. Cool air. Dry clothes. A warm bed with Remy in it, his strong arm around her.

Remy. God, but she missed him something fierce. What was she doing?

She didn't know. She didn't know.

Marie wrapped her arms about herself and sobbed.

(The lyric in the page break is from "Won't Back Down" by Fuel.)