Happy Holidays, all! So I recently installed Office 2007 – for the sole reason that I wanted my apostrophes to be slanted again – and I have unexpectedly fallen in love. I just like the way it looks! I want to keep the program open all the time and of course, this involves me writing things. So I bring you – gasp – yet another chapter! If you're keeping track, that's two updates in one month! Please note a previous mistake: this is chapter six, the last was chapter five. My bad!
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Chapter Six: Apple Core Confessions
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"Kurt? Can we talk?" The blue elfin mutant glanced up from his book and frowned at Scott Summers, who was lurking in the doorway, moving an unseen object between his hands. Kurt nodded quickly, shut the book and gestured for Scott to claim the empty desk chair beside his bed. Scott did so, and then held out an open palm, the object centering it now revealed to be a small white rosary – one of Kurt's own. "You left this at the kitchen table earlier. I don't mean to pry, but is everything going okay? I haven't seen you pray this hard since your Algebra grade depended on that two-hour final. Ouch, by the way."
A small smile slipped across Kurt's face. "Ja. That was not a good semester." Then he frowned again, deeper this time, because – how to explain. Sometimes he wished his English was poor, so that he could hide behind that old veil of non-comprehension. "I'm worried about Rogue and Gambit," he said. I think the devil is trying to woo them.
"Hmm." The sort-of remark gave Kurt confidence; so Scott had been concerned about them, too. But then the older teen went on. "Because Gambit was caught stealing? He was genuinely remorseful… I think that has to count for something. We can't forget that his birthday is coming up in a couple of days. I don't think he knows we know, but..." The corners of his lips turned up. "Maybe he's just trying to work out stuff out before adulthood becomes official. As for Rogue, well. He's become good friends with her. It can be hard when the people you rely on start to change."
Kurt sighed. "I know." Then, because Scott still wasn't quite getting it and he might not ever, he said, "Since when are you the camp counselor? Isn't this Xavier's job? No offense, but he is the headmaster."
"In more ways than one," Scott joked lightly. Then he shrugged. "Even team leaders get tested on their abilities. This month it's Sensitivity in Leadership. Everything I ever wanted to know about active listening, care in reprimands, and more. Don't grow up to be a team leader," he advised, jokingly, and stood up. "I'm in helpful mode for another two weeks, so if there's anything more you want to talk about, don't hesitate to find me." He tapped his knuckles against the desk a couple times and walked out of the room, leaving Kurt with his book and his rosary. The emptiness of the room was sudden, and Kurt clutched the rosary; he turned back to the book he'd been reading: Saving Souls. The decision to shake off temptation, it was written, must ultimately be made by each individual for themselves. Kurt frowned again.
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"Turning in early, then?"
Remy LeBeau was curled up in the backseat of the cab, his knees bent, the side of his head pressed against cold, flat window, eyes shut; he murmured a small, "Pardon?" in response to the questioning, and eased an eye open. He could see only the top half of the driver's head, a slick helmet of brown-black hair visible, and it moved to and fro in time with the cab's roll.
"It's just I figured the night would be early for most people of your age and inclinations. But there you are, falling asleep in the backseat of my cab. So I guess you must be calling it a night early for some particular reason. Of course I could be wrong – you feel free to set me in my place if I've gone and assumed too much." The helmet bounced again, and Remy sat up, suddenly more awake and less easy.
"Well, I am seventeen," he said. "I think most people my age are home wit' da parents, feelin' giddy 'cause they managed t' sneak a little o' mom an' pop's martini when no one was lookin', shufflin' homework papers." He peered out the window and failed to recognize the scenery."We far?"
"Shortcut," the driver promised. "We'll be there in minutes. I don't use these extra quick paths for everyone, but Luc says you're a special case – a personal friend – and I'm pulling out the stops to get you where he wants you to be. Yes, Sir, he can count on me. Did you hear how that rhymed?"
They passed a series of clubs and bars, with neon, illuminated signs and pictures of women and beer in ample supply. None of it held any remote interest for Remy, until they drove past a particular club with a line of at least thirty people that bent around the corner. There was something strange about the crowd, and though it took him a minute to pinpoint it, once it came it was impossible to ignore: everyone was ridiculously young. Their clothes fit the current mode and a burly, surly bouncer was still checking ID'S at the entrance, but everyone seemed to have the rounded, soft faces of youth. "What's dat about?" Remy wondered.
"The opening of the Apple Core – the first nightclub on the strip tailored to the young; no alcohol allowed, no person over twenty-five without express clearance from the owners themselves. I thought you'd be up to date on these things. Guess I misjudged you."
Remy narrowed his eyes and stared harder at the people in line. Once upon a time, he had been up to date on everything like this: where to go for a good time, what to order, and getting in had been a snap… could he even get in now, like before? Or would he be – God forbid – be forced to wait in line? Not important! He chided himself for being so distracted. "Not misjudged. I just have my priorities elsewhere." Like… on training missions. And chores, he didn't add.
"Uh huh." The cab driver was suddenly cynical.
"I'm not lying." Remy was almost insulted.
"I wouldn't dream of saying you were," was the quick and insincere response. Was it insincere or was that just his own mind, pushing him forward, egging him on, daring him to more drastic action Don't take the bait, don't take the bait, don't take the -
"I could prove it," Remy added.
The helmet bounced higher. "I never said you couldn't." But it was there in his voice, doubt dripping like water from a faucet. He didn't think Remy could do it. And that would not do. A challenge like that – so obviously waiting for him – could not be ignored. Luckily it was something that Remy could fix fast. One minute out of the cab, the next into the club, and then he'd come back to the cab again, his confidence bolstered and the driver silenced.
"I'll show you," Remy said, "Drive around da block – I'll be back." With that, he slipped out the door and headed for the club, intent on proving a point and still getting back to the mansion before too late.
But…
When Remy LeBeau finally left the Apple Core the glow of neon lights had subsided, replaced by an insistent sun and the hum of daytime activities. He'd been the life of the party inside, the Apple Core's new favorite son, but now there was a drumming in his head, an ache in his limbs, and a ringing tone in his pocket. He pulled out his phone and groaned – an X-Men training drill. This meant, of course, that before he had a chance to officially make amends with Kitty, she'd get the chance to take a weapon to his head. He winced internally, because for all that fluff, that girl pulled no punches. Hailing a cab (his own was long gone), Remy headed home.
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He arrived more or less on time – less, Scott was quick to remind him in a way that meant, don't let it happen again. Kitty glared, her eyes like dark pools of poison, trying to seep into his blood supply. Rogue was back, too, and still avoiding him, only slightly more chipper. And that was an odd word to associate with Rogue. Chipper. She – he –they – didn't do chipper. Jean kept looking at him weird, until he finally started concentrating on setting up some kind of mental barrier; he couldn't stop her from going inside his head if she wanted to, but he could stop his thoughts from leaking out. Kurt seemed to want to approach him, but like he couldn't quite figure out how. Scott just adjusted his visor and said, "Be ready, Team."
The simulation was an old one: inner city; sentinels marching in from every corner, laser beams shooting from their hands; winds picking up, clouds setting in; limited resources available. Remy retrieved a deck of cards and shuffled them, eyeing the large robots for points of weakness. Kitty stepped up to his side. "So like, are you gonna beat them in a game of gin rummy?" She was being deliberately snide.
"I said I was sorry!"
"If you weren't such a liar, maybe I'd, like, believe you. You know, I'm not upset that we're broken up for good, I'm just annoyed that I didn't have enough sense to pull the plug sooner, and that you didn't have enough respect for me to, like, tell the truth for even half the time we were together."
"I told a couple o' tiny white lies!" Remy charged a card and threw it over Kitty's head, and watched it explode against a sentinel's chest. The robot lurched. "Who doesn't do dat? I'll admit maybe we were mismatched after all, but don't tell me y' didn't bend a couple o' truths all dat time."
"You stole from Jubilee." She reached into the leg of the sentinel and pulled out enough wires that the entire machine collapsed. She wrapped her hand around Remy's wrist so that they both phased through the sentinel as it fell down into their space and then quickly released him. "After you promised us you wouldn't steal at all."
"It was a mistake. I'm entitled t' make 'em by virtue o' my less-n'-perfectness."
"Well." Kitty turned away her face. "Being with you was mine." If he'd had Rogue to smooth the fight, it might have been better. But Kitty was stubborn and determined to be mad, he didn't have the patience for silly arguments, and whenever he came near Rogue and tried to smile, she moved away before any other communication could pass between them. So they were that way, a broken triangle between Remy and the two girls he'd liked best at the mansion, the two best friends he had in Bayville; able to fight together seamlessly, but too awkward and mad to talk.
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After the training session, he found himself back at the Apple Core, for lack of pleasing alternatives. The faces there weren't close to his heart, but they were all friendly and quick to compliment. Luc was there, too, and fast becoming an unintentional confidant. "It feels all wrong," Remy admitted, staring into his cup of cider. "An' I shouldn't wonder – da X-Men took me in when I didn't have anyone t' care – but I do. All da time, lately. Was da mansion just a phase? A place o' transition, t' help me get back on my feet? How could I possibly go from feelin' like one o' da gang t' Xavier's temporary guest? An' all da rules… how can I live my life dat way? It's not in my blood."
"I admit. I know your father. He's always been an opportunist," Luc observed, shaking an imaginary wrinkle from his black pants. "And I know the feeling, like when you sit in once place too long and your legs fall asleep. The only sure cure is to get them moving again. I'm not telling you to leave your friends, but if they are really your friends, won't they still care about you even if you move out? I know it sounds greedy, but I'm a firm believer that a man should get to have his cake and eat it, too. Your own rules and your own friends. It makes sense to me."
"It is startin' t' make sense t' me, too." Remy sighed. "How is Rogue? I know she's been communicatin' wit' you, but she won't come near me. It's only gettin' worse. Da closer I get da further she moves away."
"We're visiting the carnival tomorrow. Why don't you join us? A little leisure time away from the X-Men might be a good way to ease back into her good graces. Plus," Luc gave a grin, the wide one that revealed his sharp white teeth, "There's plenty of fun to be had."
"I…" He was hesitant to inject himself into another of Rogue's activities.
"You're tempted to say yes. Give in," Luc urged.
"All right," Remy caved, deciding he trusted the other man at least enough to accept the invitation. Luc was right when he said that the LeBeaus were opportunists. But he'd been raised that way, was there any sense in denying it and himself?
"Excellent," Luc cheered, clapping a hand on Remy's shoulder. "It's going to be quite the adventure." The older man left, then, but Remy stayed behind, unable to get over his reluctance in returning to mansion, where everyone was either mad or curious. He stayed there for hours and hours, until it got dark and quiet, and he didn't sleep a wink.
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Aw. The last line is a nod to the fact that this is (I think) the first chapter that failed to feature Remy's dream. But I couldn't put him to sleep again, he just woke up! Although not action-heavy, I feel inclined to mention that this chapter has the honor of finally bridging the beginning of the story with the ending I wrote like, five years ago (okay, maybe it was only two). There isn't a lot more story to go, but a lot more stuff is going to happen, so stick around for the final chapters and happy holidays! Comments, questions, and coconut-flavored candy canes can be sent to me at eileenblzr(at)yahoo(dot)com, or to the Yahoo Messenger ID of the same name. Feel free to visit my LJ, which is linked on my author page. Tootles!
