Chapter 11: December 18
On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…
Scott, to his credit, does not immediately start lecturing when he pulls up in the X-Van. Unfortunately, less to his credit, he brought Jean with him, who does start lecturing immediately.
"What the hell were you all thinking?" she shouts, putting her hands on her hips. "What is going on here?"
Kurt raises his hand. "I'm bleeding," he says pathetically.
Remy also raises –well, he tries to raise his hand, but halfway through the motion, his body simply decides all at once that it has had enough and his arm flops limply to his side. Remy stares at his own arm in betrayal. Luckily, no one else noticed his embarrassment. Jean and Scott are fussing over Kurt's face, which is still sluggishly bleeding, staining the fur there a dark purple.
He had just wanted to say that he is also in a great deal of pain and would like to not be as soon as possible, but apparently that isn't in the cards for Remy tonight. He'll just have to endure. More.
His thoughts drift to Rogue, as usual when Remy has a spare moment and brain space, and he imagines what she might say if she were here. Probably call Remy a swamp rat, he thinks dreamily. An' then probably tell him that he's stupid for gettin' all banged up, but then she'd be real nice and gentle and maybe even pull her gloves off just for a minute to touch his forehead…
"Uh," says Kurt, "thanks for the show of concern and love and all that, Jean, but I'm mostly fine. Remy's about to faint, though."
Rude. Remy scowls in what he hopes is Kurt's direction. Calling out a man's wobbly state of consciousness in front of the enemy is not cool. Not that Scott and Jean are enemies, exactly, but they already don't think too well of Remy at the best of times, and he can't imagine that him passing out before they get any explanations is going to endear him to them. Anyway, not cool, Kurt. See if Remy ever considers him to be a potential Partner in Crime ever again.
Has Remy ever told Kurt that he considers him to be a potential Partner in Crime? Hmm. Honestly, with his brain this scrambled, Remy can't remember.
"That's very nice of you, Remy, but maybe you should sit down before you fall down," Kurt says kindly. Remy was saying all of that out loud again. Crap. Hopefully he hadn't started doing that back with the part about Rogue.
"You did," Bobby informs him helpfully.
Turns out, this day can get worse. Oh, it's a new day. Well, goodie, it's starting out terribly.
"Remy," Jean says reproachfully. "You don't really think that Scott and I… dislike you, right?"
Remy's head is far too heavy for this conversation. "We need to get to the Institute," he says instead of answering Jean. "There's trouble comin'."
That just sets off another round of questions, but luckily, Piotr ignores most of them while simultaneously picking Remy up off of his trembling legs and settling him into the back of the X-Van, which neatly cuts off the questions for a minute at least while the rest of the group piles in around him and Scott starts driving them back to the mansion.
"Okay," Kitty says when the silence has gotten to an awkward point from Jean's poorly restrained curiosity. "Here's the situation."
000
The institute is ablaze with light and shouting and literal fireballs when they pull into the drive way. The front lawn looks like a military contract threw up on it.
Jean had called ahead. Rogue meets them at the front gates, dressed in her X-Men uniform with her arms crossed over her chest. She starts yelling the instant Piotr opens the van door and Remy tries to get out.
"What the hell is wrong with you, you stupid Swamp Rat?"
Her eyes can't actually be flaming with green fire, right? That's just Remy's electric-frazzled brain talking.
Who is he kidding? Rogue is a goddess incarnate. Fiery eyes are the least of his problems when it comes to making her angry.
He offers a nervous version of his sexiest smile just in case she can be appeased.
She cannot.
"Stop grinnin' at me," she says dangerously, coming forward to grab Remy by the arms and lift him out of the X-Van. Remy squints at her suspiciously. His vision is going a bit blurry. Is she stronger than usual, or is he just weaker than a newborn gator and thus feeling as though anyone with legs that aren't currently giving out underneath them is super-strong?
He tries to ask her this, but what comes out is, "Am I a baby gator?" which isn't what Remy meant at all.
"Jean!" Rogue shouts, a little too close to Remy's ear. "Help me!"
What? No, don't call for Jean. Remy can help her. Anything Rogue needs help with, Remy is her man.
Jean picks him up telekinetically and carries him across the lawn. He struggles for a moment and then relaxes, taking the opportunity to stretch languidly while letting all of his muscles go loose. He floats several feet above the ground, feeling luxuriously decadent for not walking on his own. Rogue paces beside him with one hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him around lawn ornaments and various young mutants. The lawn ornaments and the young mutants share about the same awareness of their surroundings, hence necessitating the guidance.
Remy puts out his hand and catches the tips of Rogue's hair in between his fingers. She pulls away and turns to glare at him, only to soften when she sees how spaced-out he is. Remy doesn't mind, even if that does make him feel a little pathetic, because now he has an excuse to stare at Rogue as much as he wants and everyone will think he's just drifting.
Her hair is soft. It curls around his fingers. Sometimes Rogue will straighten her hair, which also looks good on her, because everything looks good on Rogue, but lately she seems to have been letting it do whatever it wants, which is delightful in Remy's books, because what Rogue's hair wants to do is apparently tangle itself around his hand. The red waves and the white stripes that make sure Remy can always find her in a crowd feel like silk on his palm. Deliriously, Remy wonders how weird it would be for him to press the curl he's grasping against his lips.
He's maybe a little obsessed with Rogue's hair.
He blinks and they reach the infirmary. He doesn't remember going downstairs. He does vaguely remember seeing the Professor's face, which looked, as usual, placidly unreadable. Remy hopes that doesn't mean the Professor is mad at him. He hates it when the Professor is mad at him.
I am not angry, Remy, the Professor's voice echoes telepathically in his head. I am merely concerned. We can talk about this more when you are feeling better. The telepathic presence fades away from Remy's head and he relaxes. That's alright then.
Jean sets Remy down just inside the infirmary and holds onto his shoulders when he sways. "Remy?" she says hesitantly, trying to look into his eyes directly. Not one of Remy's strong suits, to be honest.
He musters enough of a reaction to try a smile for Jean. She looks worried, which doesn't make Remy feel great. The whole point of this stupid mission has been, all along, to not worry anybody. Great job, Remy, really spectacular.
Hmmm. This is getting a bit self-deprecating. He doesn't like this train of thought.
"Thanks, Jeanie," he says, clumsily patting her shoulder. "Jus' need a minute a rest…" He's slurring, but not intentionally. He closes his eyes, so he misses whatever look Jean is giving Rogue over her shoulder, but he doesn't miss the gentle way she pats at his hair and says, "You do that, Remy."
That's nice.
"C'mon, Swamp Rat," Rogue says. He doesn't move. He tries, for Rogue, of course he tries, but Remy suddenly can't feel his arms.
"Nnnnnn," he tries to say… something, he isn't really sure what. He needs to lie down. He needs to sleep. He needs–
Rogue is unbuttoning the top of Remy's jumpsuit. This is shocking enough to force some life into his deadened limbs, and he reaches up to still her arms, wrapping his gloved hands around hers and reveling in that small bit of gloriously tenuous contact.
"Uhh," he says, "not that Remy mind it, chere, but what are you doing tryin' to get Remy out of his clothes?"
She pauses to glare at him. Is he blushing? Remy thinks he may be blushing. He barely recognizes himself. Who is this man with the dashing coat and smoldering eyes? Who is he, with the muscular arms and toned physique, sexily languishing in the arms of the most spectacularly beautiful woman this man has ever seen?
Can you languish sexily? Remy frowns in thought.
"Hey, it's sexy when Remy languishes, right?" he asks Rogue. She gives him a funny look, but her cheeks start to go a bit pink. Remy watches the blush spread daintily across her otherwise porcelain cheeks with a surprised sort of interest. And not a little bit of pleasure.
That pleasure turns to pain too quickly for comfort and Remy winces as attractively as he can. He has a feeling it isn't as attractive as he would like.
"Remy? What's wrong? Answer me, Swamp Rat!" Rogue's gloved hands skim over Remy's arms and shoulders and chest. Her voice is just shy of frantic, a strange note that Remy has never heard from her before, even during the struggle with Apocalypse and every fight they've ever had.
"Fine!" he says, not squeaks, even though he can hear Piotr chuckling from in the hallway outside the infirmary. "I'm fine, for real, just, uh. How are you?"
"Me?" her voice cracks in disbelief, even as she gently propels Remy across the infirmary to sit on one of the beds. He winces when he sits down. His butt hurts for some reason. Probably from being sat on for hours in that stupid chair and then getting bounced all over Bayville, he thinks grumpily. Rogue is doing something with her back to him. He can hear more people out in the hallway. One of them sounds like Emma Frost, which is just marvelous.
The infirmary is not pleasant, ever, but especially because of the snakes. Remy looks around suspiciously, but Dr. McCoy must have cleared out his herpetological collection before he left for wherever he went. There's no sign of snakes. Rogue is doing interesting things to his hair, trying to remove the head piece of his costume.
Normally, Remy wouldn't mind a little hair-pulling, but at the moment, every nerve ending in his entire, extensively well-toned body hurts, and Roguey tugging on his follicles isn't helping any. He half-stands up.
"Rogue?"
She isn't looking at him.
"Rogue?"
"What?" she snaps, and then takes a deep breath and lets go of his hair.
Remy removes his head piece with a grimace. He probably has head gear marks all over his face.
"You have head gear marks all over your face," Rogue says. Her gloved hands are gentle, smoothing over his cheeks. Her eyes are troubled. "Why did you do this, Remy?" she asks softly.
Remy's breath stutters. It feels like someone trapped a wind-up car in his lungs. "Remy just -" he lifts his hand, helplessly, lowers it. Tries to say something other than his own name. "I just -" he tries again. He's so tired. He hurts everywhere. All he can think, the only thing out of this entire mess that he even knows for sure, is that he never wants any of them to feel like this. These people who opened their home to him, in spite of his past, in spite of his… himness. He thinks about Kitty and Kurt, about Bobby and all of the other little bratty kids in this place, thinks about Storm's kindness and Logan's gruff protectiveness and the professor's warmth and he can't stop thinking about Rogue, Rogue, Rogue, with the type of strength that Pierce would love to get his gross hands all over, the kind of power that the people who hate mutants can never hope to understand. And he thinks that he would do anything to protect them all from the scary parts, the icky parts, the parts that make him feel less than human. He never wants any of them to feel this pain or the fear that he had felt while strapped into that chair.
He opens his mouth to say all of that - or something like it - only to find Rogue staring at him with an expression that tells him he'd been speaking aloud once again without meaning to.
"Damn it," Remy says, closing his eyes. He hopes that she wasn't paying too much attention to the part where he said her name three times in a row, because that would be pretty obvious, even for him. He opens his eyes slowly, and so he gets to see Rogue's soft, soft mouth break into a smirk as she gently shoves him backwards until his butt hits the infirmary cot and he sits down again automatically.
"Rest, Remy," she says, and pushes him until he lays down. It feels so good that Remy instantly melts. He's already half-dreaming when she says, "I'll be waiting for you when you wake up."
Or maybe she doesn't actually say that, but Remy wants to believe she does, and this is Remy's dream, so there.
Remy needs to sleep so hard.
So he does.
000
Bobby is filling the X-Men in and it is taking much longer than he thought it would. After the Brotherhood of Super-Secret Sublevel Ninjas had all gotten something to eat and taken a minute to be looked over by Jean and Scott as the de-facto medics when Dr. McCoy was gone, Professor Xavier had finally sat them all down in the living room and asked for an explanation.
Bobby had volunteered, and now he is regretting it.
"How did you all find out about this?" the Professor asks once Bobby has finished explaining the situation with the commandos and Remy's capture and their rescue mission.
"And why didn't any of you idiots think to tell the rest of the team?" Logan adds, growling.
Bobby takes a nervous step backwards. A pissed off Logan is never a good sign, and Bobby hadn't thought about the potential consequences of being the one to tell Logan that his people are being targeted by a megalomaniacal madman. And that they had been stupid enough to try and keep it a secret from him.
Logan is protective like that.
"Uhhh… it was Remy's idea?" he tries weakly.
Logan snarls and his claws pop out of his fists. Bobby's eyes nearly bug out of his head.
"Now, now, Logan," Emma purrs, which is horrifying. Bobby closes his eyes and pretends that he didn't just see Emma pout her lips at freaking Wolverine.
"Yes," the Professor echoes, "let's not get upset." He sounds very calm. Bobby likes calm. He hasn't really been calm since Remy told them that they were all being targeted by some kind of extra-military anti-mutant squad.
It's been a stressful week. Bobby is glad they can turn the hard part over to cooler heads.
Wait. Cooler? Is anyone cooler than Bobby? He doesn't even mean like, in an awesome kind of way, he just means it literally. If there's someone whose head is actually cooler than the literal Iceman in this Institute, then Bobby wants to know about it.
"Logan, I'll need you and Scott to start working on defense tactics," the Professor is saying. He runs a hand over his bald head, which is not wearing a hat and is presumably quite cool because of it, and then steeples his fingers. "When these… commandos appear, I want us to be ready for them."
Bobby has the weirdest feeling that the Professor had wanted to say something other than "commandos" but had restrained himself out of propriety or something like that. Hearing the word "commandos" in Professor Xavier's voice was also weird.
"Bobby!"
"Thank god," he mutters under his breath, turning to face Kurt who is waving from the elevator.
"Wanda has an idea!"
Well, that's terrifying.
Logan follows Bobby down into the kitchen, where Wanda and the other members of the Brotherhood have been snacking. Or like, in the case of Fred and Toad, eating everything in the fridge, but Bobby is a growing teenaged boy, too, okay, he doesn't judge. Sometimes, you're just hungry like that. Especially after breaking your friend out of a high-security pseudo-military compound in the middle of the night.
Bobby yawns. It's like four o'clock in the morning and his body is feeling it.
"What's the idea?" Logan asks, gruffly. He does everything gruffly, Bobby thinks sleepily, but that doesn't mean that he's a meanie. Logan is actually a big softy if you are one of His People.
Wanda leans against the kitchen counter and crosses her arms. She's scowling, which is just Wanda's normal face, but Bobby still keeps his distance.
"I think we need stages. Take a few of them out at each stage until there aren't any left."
Logan raises his bushy eyebrows. "Yeah? That's it?"
Wanda says, "I don't think we should use any powers."
"What?" Bobby only realizes that he's the one who said it when Wanda turns a stiff glare in his direction.
"I said," she says, "that we shouldn't use any powers to fight them off."
Bobby glances at Kurt, who, unfortunately, is nodding, which means he knows what's going on, so Bobby is just gonna look stupid on his own, apparently when he asks, "Uh, why would we do that?"
Wanda sounds like she is trying to keep her temper, which, good for her. That's new. "Look, they already know too much about all of us," she says, gesturing around the room at the Super-Secret Brotherhood of Sub-level Ninjas, minus Remy and Piotr. And Kitty, Bobby acknowledges reluctantly. She had weaseled her way in like she always did, but in the end, she pulled through. And that's what's great about Shadowcat. When you really need someone to get you out of a tight spot, she's your girl.
"– And it just seems to me like revealing more information about anyone else at the Institute is a bad idea," Wanda finishes, staring at Bobby like she's daring him to disagree with her. Considering that he wasn't paying attention until the end, that seems like a bad idea, so he swallows hard and peeks at Logan from the corner of his eye instead.
Logan… is nodding. Slowly, but still a nod. "You ain't wrong about most of that, Sparky," he says to Wanda. Bobby doesn't recall "Sparky" being one of the nicknames that Logan had bestowed upon Wanda, but she doesn't fly into a homicidal rage, so he guesses she has decided that it's fine for now. "Still," Logan continues, "we ain't gonna be able to hide all of it. Some of us," he nods at Kurt as an example, "are a little obvious."
"They've already seen me," Kurt tells him. Logan snorts.
"I was thinking about Warren, actually," he says.
Bobby wrinkles his nose instinctively. Look, he has nothing against Warren! Warren is great! It's just that he's kind of. Well, Bobby doesn't like to judge, but Warren can be a little self-righteous. Kind of like Scott, but if Scott was blond and hunky instead of being a dweeb. Bobby catches Kurt's glance and they share a shudder that needs no telepathy, silently thanking the multiverse that they had their boring, non-hunky Scott instead of a Warren look-alike. He would be insufferable.
"Warren doesn't have to help," Kurt says.
Logan rolls his eyes. "Look," he says, "I know that Gumbo's got some kind of chip on his shoulder about Warren, but that doesn't mean you all have to take up whatever idiotic cause that is. Warren is a good guy. He'll help us."
Wanda shrugs. "Well, if we can limit the number of obvious powers we show to these commandos, then we should. Powers as a last resort instead of a first option would be better, even for us," she gestures around the room again. "The less they know about who has a mutation they can weaponize, the better."
That last comment sends a wave of solemnity through them all. Bobby shivers, suddenly recalling the clinical sterility of the compound and the way Remy's red and black eyes had seemed glassy and frantic, never settling on one person, muscles twitching in his biceps and neck.
"Agreed," says Logan.
Agreed. Professor Xavier's telepathic voice has a British accent. It always surprises Bobby. Since we are all on the same page then, why don't we gather everyone in the main hall and create a plan. We don't have much time.
000
Tabitha, Jubilee, Ray, Amara, and Roberto sit on the banister of the staircase in the main hall to listen to The Plan. It's great, because usually Jean scolds them when they do this, but tonight, she's too distracted by the people plotting to kill all of them to bother about what Tabby is plotting.
Not that Tabby is plotting anything in particular, except for the best places to lay some time bomb traps around the mansion.
"Should we wake up Rahne and Jamie?" Roberto muses. He's looking a little too excited for someone who got woken up unexpectedly in the middle of the night to deal with commandos trying to capture mutants for Evil Science Experiments. But, then again, he had been whining about going home and missing all of them, so maybe he was just feeling sentimental. One last hurrah before the break.
Leave it to the X-Men to have a huge fight as a bonding moment.
"Uh, no," says Ray, because Ray is responsible. Tabby is very fond of him, with his responsible-ness. He doesn't look responsible, which is what makes it so fun. "They're just kids."
"You're like, sixteen," Amara points out. Ray shrugs.
"And Jamie is like, twelve," he says. "If they're sleeping, let 'em sleep, I say. I think Logan already barricaded their doors and got Bobby to freeze up that entire passageway. Nobody's getting in there without a flamethrower."
"Better that way anyway," Tabby says. "Imagine what those commando creeps would do to someone like Jamie or Rahne. A werewolf and a guy who multiplies himself? That's basically a super-soldier secret agent film premise already. The last thing we need is that Pierce guy trying to extract their DNA to build little werewolf baby clones."
"Gross," Jubilee mutters. She's sleepy, and probably a little hungover. Ray and Roberto aren't that much better off, but they did at least have the sense to drink their body weight in water before crashing earlier. Jubilee had not remembered to drink water, and was now paying for it. They had run out of eggnog and had to make more, barely avoiding Jean's disapproval. In fact, they only escaped her discovery of how much alcohol they were adding to the eggnog because, fortunately, she got distracted.
Unfortunately, they now owe Emma Frost several favors.
The Plan, which Logan and Wanda Maximoff are tag-team explaining, is to take out as many commandos as possible with, the Professor interjects, the least amount of permanent damage.
"We do not kill," Professor Xavier says primly.
Tabby privately thinks that that's a privileged take, but like, sure, Prof, whatever you say.
Using their home advantage, the Plan continues, the X-Men will lead the commandos on a wild goose chase throughout the Institute grounds, keeping them outside of the building as much as possible.
"Tabby, you and the others there," Logan gestures to them, perched on the banister like a quintet of turtledoves, "will be the last line of defense in here. If any of the commandos get inside, you're going to stop them. The Professor will be in the Cerebro room, and the kids are upstairs of course, so it will be up to you to protect them. Can you handle that?"
Jubilee looks insulted, and also slightly more alert than before. "Of course we can," she says.
"Without your powers?" Logan presses.
Jubilee shrugs. "I mean, this plan sounds like you're basically asking us to be really annoying, possibly with violent consequences."
"That is correct," Logan says.
She smirks. "Pretty much our wheelhouse, wouldn't you say?"
"Quite," Professor Xavier says, and at that point, the meeting breaks up. It is almost five-thirty in the morning. Tabby needs some coffee. Specifically, she needs some of that fireball grog that Kitty makes on Danger Room mornings.
"Make me some too," Ray demands, head lolling on Roberto's shoulder. Amara is brushing her hair with her fingers, smooth, glossy strands flowing through her hands. Her eyes are half-closed. Jubilee is blinking very slowly at Tabby.
"Oh, we're all having some," Tabby decides. "I can't have you falling asleep in the middle of a fight. Come on."
000
Under the sink in the kitchen, a chemical reaction is taking place.
000
Kitty paces around the foyer, biting her lip and hugging herself through her sweater. She'd grabbed the first one she saw when she dashed up to her room for something to throw on over her uniform, which means she's now wearing her Sisterhood of the Super Cute Matching Candy Cane Sweaters sweater over her suit. Jubliee had laughed at her when she saw it, but whatever. Kitty's warm, so who's laughing now?
"Katya," Piotr says quietly, at her elbow. Well, not really at her elbow. He towers over her, so he can't really say anything at or to her elbow without a significant stoop, but he says it while standing next to her, within elbow range, so Kitty turns and says, "Yes, Piotr?" as sweetly as she can.
She's very sweet, okay? She's just a little tense right now, but that's no reason to snap at Piotr.
"Can we talk?" he asks.
She doesn't like the sound of that. Nothing good ever follows "Can we talk?" Some of that must show in her face, because Piotr holds out his hand and solemnly asks, "Please?" Kitty can't help but take his hand, even though she feels like if one more bad thing happens today, tonight, what-EVER, she will absolutely lose it.
They go outside, even though it's like five in the morning and freezing. They walk around the grounds for a few minutes, watching the Brotherhood boys booby-trap the front lawn with Kurt and Bobby. The air puffs white in front of their faces when they breathe.
"So," says Piotr. Kitty holds her breath, watching the white disappear.
"Do you think Rogue likes Remy?" he asks, which, wait, what? Kitty blinks in surprise.
"Uh, what?" she asks.
"Does she like him?" he repeats. "Sometimes, I think so, but I do not know her as well as you do, so I cannot be sure."
Kitty starts to say, "Duh, of course she does, she's obsessed with him," but then she remembers that Rogue is trying to be lowkey about her massive, super obvious, totally bonkers love-feelings, so instead she says, "Well, I don't know if I should tell you that. Y'know, girl code."
"Girl code?" Piotr raises one eyebrow. Kitty feels her face get hot, which is embarrassing. It's not like she doesn't live in a mansion full of incredibly hot and sassy people who love to make that exact expression every chance they get. She should be used to this.
"I do not understand what this girl code is," Piotr says. He purses his lips a little, like he's thinking.
She is not used to this. "I mean that I probably shouldn't tell Rogue's secrets," she says, a little weakly.
Piotr nods slowly. They take another turn and then start walking up the stairs of the front porch. Kitty feels very fancy, hanging off Piotr's arm. Her candy-cane sweater actually looks very nice with her X-men uniform. They should all have sweaters that go over their suits! Ooh, like seasonal ones, for everybody!
"Well," Piotr says, interrupting her design daydream. "Is it really secret though? I think is obvious that she is liking him very much."
His accent gets thicker when he's trying to be persuasive, Kitty notes fondly.
"Unless of course it is all wrong in my head," he adds, thoughtfully, "and Rogue is actually in love with Warren."
Wait, what?
"What, what?" she exclaims, spinning to face him and grabbing his arm tighter in her shock. Piotr blinks at her like a cat. It's very cute. "Remy thinks that Rogue is in love with Warren."
Kitty honestly doesn't know why she's surprised. That's exactly the kind of dumb nonsense that Remy would think. "Oh, that dumbass," she says, exasperated. "You know what, ask me anything. Those two are hopeless on their own anyway. They clearly need help."
Piotr is quiet for a moment. "Ask anything?" he says, slowly.
"Yeah!"
"Are you still in love with Avalanche?"
They speak at the same time, and for a second, Kitty isn't sure she heard correctly. Her mind goes blank. It's just static for like, thirteen seconds.
Elsewhere, Professor Xavier takes a moment to stare dramatically out the window and contemplate his life choices. It's saying something that his own head is now quiet for the first time in four weeks.
"Lance?" Kitty finally asks, sputtering, as though there might be another mutant wandering around with the poor taste to name himself after a natural disaster. "Am I still in love with Lance?"
Piotr looks a little uncomfortable, maybe even embarrassed, but he nods, looking down at her.
"What does that have to do with Remy and Rogue?" she asks, to buy time, mind racing. She's staring at him, she knows, like she's really staring, she knows she must look crazy, eyes wide and boring into his… well, his chin, mostly, but that's because her neck only bends back so far, okay.
"Nothing," Piotr says. "You said I could ask anything, though." To be fair, he is also looking very intensely at her, which makes Kitty feel a bit better about her crazy eyes.
"Well… no," she says. "I mean, no, I'm not still in love with Lance. Haven't been, for… oh, I don't know. At least a couple of years now. I mean, will I always still love him, in some ways? Sure, like, he was my first mutant friend and one of the first people to really let me know that he believed in me and my powers, to think I was good at something, you know? But also like, the thing he thought I was good at was helping him steal test answers because I can walk through walls, so like, perspective, right? The point is, I'm not in love with him. He's a… a friend. Sometimes. I think. It's kind of hard to tell, actually, I mean, I have no idea how he feels anymore, because he's like, super hard to read these days, and I don't actually know if he even like, likes me as a person anymore after we broke up, but most of the time we're not like, actively hating each other, I think, so yeah. I mean. Yeah. Um…" she finishes with a gasp for air and the sinking suspicion that she sounds ridiculous. "Does that answer… the question?"
Piotr nods again. His eyes have gone all soft, but no less steely, which is a weird combination but it totally works for him.
"Um," she says, a little breathless. "W-why did you want to know?"
Piotr turns to face her better. She's standing on the step above him and he's still taller than her by like a foot. He grasps her hands in his and smiles when she grabs back. "Katya," he says, "I am not good with words."
"Uh, you totally are, so –"
"But," he interrupts, uncharacteristically. Kitty shuts up and lets him talk. "I want to say the right thing to you, even though I am not good with words."
"Okay," she says. Her voice sounds very small, on these steps, in this cold air, a week before Christmas. The sounds of the Brotherhood, Lance among them, have faded entirely to the background. Kitty's not even sure they're all still outside anymore.
Piotr tilts his head to the side, looking at her with an expression that she can only think of as fondness. "Katya, I like you very much," he says, and she could swear, she feels her heart stop. "I like you so much that I broke the vow of the Brotherhood of Super Secret Sub-level Ninjas so that you could be with me to rescue Remy. I like you so much that I came to spend Christmas here, at Institute, where there are many rules and many, many annoying children."
Kitty giggles. She might be crying. Is there water in her eyes? "You can say Bobby, it's okay," she says. He grins.
"I like you so much, Kitty Pryde," he says, "that I want to ask if you will go on a date with me."
It's started snowing, like magic. "I would like that very much," she manages to say, somehow. Piotr's hair is dusted with snowflakes. He looks like a Christmas dream. "Piotr?" she says, leaning in.
He leans in, too. "Yes?"
She's smiling. She can't stop smiling. She may never stop smiling, ever. "I like you very much, too," she says.
He kisses her softly, so softly, more softly than you'd think from a man who can turn his whole body into metal. She feels none of that steel now, though, only the gentle way his hands are holding hers, the plushness of his mouth, the warmth of his body holding her close, keeping out the chill.
"Hey! Are you done?" Bobby's voice breaks across the yard obnoxiously. "We're gonna be invaded like any time now, you know. Do you think maybe you lovebirds can move it inside so you're not making out on the front lawn and embarrassing us when the commandos come?"
Kitty opens her eyes and exhales, exasperatedly. She turns around to find Bobby and Kurt poking their heads out the front door. "Do you mind?" she says, pointedly. Kurt shrugs. The stiches in his cheek makes him look a bit rakish, which he clearly knows.
Piotr puts his hand on her shoulder. "We will come inside," he says. "We must be prepared."
Kitty looks back at him and smiles. "Oh, alright," she says, taking his hand and holding it as they walk to the door. "Oh!" she exclaims, pouting a bit as she notices. "It's stopped snowing!"
"Yeah," Bobby says, "because I got tired of watching you two suck face – ow!" He makes a face a Kurt, who shrugs.
Oof. Beholden to Iceman for Christmas miracles. Kitty hates that. "Um, thanks," she says anyway. Bobby blushes a little.
"Oh, it was nothing," he says, modestly.
"Are you all done?" Wanda asks from inside, sounding irritated, as usual. "It's almost six. It'll be daylight soon."
Oh yeah. Commandos. "Ugh," says Kitty, with feeling. "Alright, let's get ready." She reluctantly lets go of Piotr's hand and heads for the infirmary. She's positive that none of these idiots have thought to fill Remy and Rogue in on the plan, and the last thing they need is for one of them to randomly pop out and get captured because they aren't prepared.
God, Kitty has to do everything around here.
000
When Remy wakes up, there is a very bright light shining in his eyes, and someone is shouting in a whisper next to his ear, which is both impressive and annoying.
"Shut up," he groans, because Remy has never claimed to be a morning person.
"Get up, get up, wake up, get up, wake up," Kitty's voice chants.
"Leave him alone, Kitty." That's Rogue. Remy would know that sweet drawl anywhere.
"He needs to get up, though!"
"'M up," he grunts, rolling over onto his side. He feels great. Remy is immediately suspicious.
"Why don't I feel terrible?" he asks, suspiciously. Rogue rolls her eyes.
"You're on, like, sooooo many drugs right now," Kitty says, helpfully. Remy considers this for a moment while he slowly sits up and stretches to make sure all his limbs work. It takes a couple of minutes, because he can't really feel the toes on his left foot, which are some of his most important toes.
"That's nice," he says finally. Rogue snorts.
Rogue.
Remy pats his hair, licking his fingers to get the front to stick up a little in that sexy boyband way that Rogue likes.
"Ew! Do you even know where your hands have been?"
"Kitty, was there a point in you coming in here to wake us up, or did you just want to be loud and annoying in my ears for kicks?"
Wow, Rogue is pissy this morning. Night? Unspecified time of day. There aren't any windows in this part of the Institute so Remy has no clue what time it is.
"Uhhhh, yeah, the point is that we need to get ready." Kitty picks up a pair of stray calipers from a metal stand by the door and snaps them together a few times.
"Ready? Ready for what?" Remy demands.
"Oh!" Kitty beams at him, dropping the calipers on the stand with a clang! "The commandos are coming!"
"They're what?"
On the way upstairs, Kitty explains the current situation. "So, Logan is organizing a no-powers resistance front, and Scott is getting the mansion's security measures ready for if they manage to breach the gate. The Professor says that we have to stick to defending ourselves, and that we aren't supposed to kill anyone, blah, blah, like he always does. I think that's everything!" she finishes cheerfully, hopping off the elevator just in time to bump into Emma Frost, who gives Remy a look that chills him to his already very cool bones.
Heh. Chills. Frost. Cool. Remy is hilarious.
"Are we sure his brain is working?" Emma is asking Rogue.
Hey.
"To be honest, I'm never really sure about that," Rogue answers drily.
Hey.
"Hey!" Remy says indignantly. Kitty pats his arm in commiseration. "Listen," he says, "Remy's brain works just fine."
Emma nods very seriously. "Of course," she says.
Remy does not appreciate the thing she is doing with her eyebrows. "Whatever," he says, pushing past them. "And I can't believe I'm saying this, but I need to talk to Logan."
The way Emma drapes herself over Logan's shoulders is very disturbing. Not because of its overt sexuality, because Remy is a grown man who is very comfortable with his sexuality and his own sexiness, as well as other people's. No, the reason it's so disturbing is because it's Logan.
Not that Logan isn't sexy. It's just that his type of sexiness doesn't really jive with Remy's. They're different kinds of sexy.
Also, Emma does this thing with her hips that makes it seem like she could stab you with them, which is impressive, but also scary.
What was Remy talkin' about again?
"You were telling Logan about some kinda bullshit idea you have about trying to lead the commandos away from the Institute like you think they'll just pack up and leave the rest of us alone if you're not here," Rogue says helpfully.
Remy tries not to look Logan in the eye.
"I could stab you with my hips," Emma says.
"Stripes is right," Logan says, ignoring everything else, for which Remy is extremely grateful. "That is a bullshit idea."
Well, that was harsh. "Hey –" Remy started. Logan interrupted.
"You think being a self-sacrificing idiot is gonna do anyone any good? Trust me, bub, it won't. I've been there. I've done some pretty stupid things in the name of protecting the people I love, but in the end, nobody needs a martyr. They need you. Alive. So, just leave off being an idiot and get over yourself, alright? You're not going anywhere. You're not alone – you've got family to look after you. So start acting like it!"
They all stare at Logan. He growls. "What?"
Emma recovers first. "Why, Logan," she purrs. "That was so touching. So… deeply emotional and honest."
"Ew," says Rogue. "Remy," she continues, which immediately captures his entire attention away from whatever Emma and Logan are doing with their eyebrows, which he is honestly very grateful for. "I think you need to explain some things," she says, which he's a little less grateful for, but completely understands.
"Yeah," he sighs. "Can you round everyone else up? Remy really don't want to have to say all this more than once."
The other X-men are milling around in the foyer of the mansion when Remy limps in from the infirmary, one arm slung over Rogue's shoulders. It's not his sexiest moment. He suspects that he looks a bit pathetic, actually, which just makes things worse. That dumb peacock is here, too, having the nerve to look like he's worried about Remy's health. That one's just insult to injury, honestly.
Everyone is muttering, talking to each other in their little groups, staring at him (and more specifically, at his arm around Rogue and her arm around him). "Um, hey," Remy tries. He doesn't think anyone hears him though, because they all ignore him and keep muttering. Pete, who comes up to him and Rogue, is the only one who seems to actually be paying attention.
"Uh, hi," Remy says to him. Piotr gives him a very longsuffering look and shakes his head.
"You worry me sometimes," he says plainly. Remy whines.
"I don't mean to," he says. Then, "They aren't listening to me."
"Hmm," Piotr nods, and then turns to face everyone else.
"Listen!" he says, barely raising his voice, and it doesn't matter that he isn't really an X-Man, isn't really a member of the Brotherhood, isn't anything other than a very tall man with a very deep voice, everyone shuts up and listens.
"Thank you," Piotr says, and then, "Remy has something to say."
Remy swears, he does this on purpose sometimes. Now everyone is staring at him.
"Uh, hi," he says. "I just… I just wanted to say that… I'm sorry." Rogue tenses, beside him. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell y'all about the whole," he waves his hand, "anti-mutant paramilitary force setting up shop in our town. Uh, there are actually a couple more of those, now that I mention it," he adds, glancing at Professor X. "We might want to look into that for the new year. Anyway! Uh, I didn't want to worry anybody, and I didn't want anyone to get hurt, so I kept it to myself. And that was obviously not the right call!" He says that part quickly, before anyone can start yelling at him again. "Because we're all a family, and we have each other's backs, and I know I don't have to do everything by myself, so I just wanted to say that I'm sorry I didn't tell y'all, and… and thanks for coming to get me."
"You big dummy!" Tabitha yells. "Of course we're your family!" She's leaning against the railing of the staircase. She looks a bit bright-eyed for this time of day, but Remy can't judge, really. "And we'll kick their paramilitary ass!" she adds, pumping her fist in the air. "Right?"
"Right!" the other kids yell. Aw, that almost makes Remy feel sentimental, looking at all of them out there in their little X-men uniforms, ready to kick ass and take names.
"Okay, Remy," Rogue says, indulgently. Her fist tightens in the back of his jacket, holding him upright. He turns to look at her and she meets his gaze with her fierce green eyes, looking as determined and stubborn as she ever has.
"I missed you," he tells her, nonsensically. Her lips quirk into a smile.
"I never went anywhere, sugar," she says.
He sighs, putting his head down on her shoulder, ignoring the way she inhales, sharply. "I know," he says.
000
The commandos come through the gates, without knocking, because they're rude like that. The mean one who had punched Remy – and then been punched by Remy – is leading them.
"I hate that guy," Remy mutters to the nearest person, who, to his horror, happens to be Warren.
"Yeah," Warren says sympathetically, "he seems like a real jerk."
Since this is definitively correct and also Remy just said it, he can't exactly disagree, just because Warren said it, so Remy is forced to nod and share commiserating glances with the toucan. One more reason to hate the commandos.
"I hate waiting up here like this," Warren says suddenly. They're standing on one of the upper balconies of the mansion, out of sight of the assailants at the gate, but still able to see everything happening below. Remy had fought to be allowed to defend the gate, theorizing that it wouldn't matter if he used his powers, since Pierce already knows about his abilities, but everyone had shot that idea down with prejudice.
And Remy does mean everyone. There's something particularly humbling about being lectured on safety and health and well-being by Toad Tolansky, of all people.
Which is how Remy ended up safely out of the main action, with a guardian angel.
"Me too," he says, belatedly. Warren is staring out over the grounds with a stupidly soulful look on his face. He looks noble, handsome and dedicated and all that other good old American crap. Remy can't believe they have anything in common.
Well, anything other than the obvious.
"So, Rogue," he says, because whatever drugs they gave him to make the pain stop also apparently made his brain-to-mouth filter stop.
"Hmm?" Warren glances at him, looking puzzled. "What about Rogue?"
Well, that doesn't sound like a man whose every waking thought is occupied by the most beautiful woman to stomp around New York in clunky knee-high goth boots, so score one for Remy, he guesses. "What about Rogue" indeed. What isn't about her? Everything should be about her, all the time, if you ask Remy. He's an expert on Rogue, a connoisseur, an afficionado, an appreciator, a worshipper. Remy is thinking about Rogue more often than he's not, and when he's not, it's usually because he's trying to figure out how not to die. And even then, he's mostly thinking about how much it would suck to die and not get to see Rogue anymore.
"She's not here," is what Remy says, thankfully able to stop himself from dumping all of that schmoopy stuff into Warren's undeserving ears.
The turkey looks like he's wondering if Remy's brains are scrambled, which, fair. "Uh, yeah," he says, slowly. "She's downstairs by the front door, remember?"
"Right!" Remy nods quickly, trying to look like a person who should definitely be walking around and preparing to blow things up and not, for example, reclining in a hospital bed right now. Warren doesn't seem convinced, but luckily, at this point, the traps that the kids set on the front lawn have started going off.
Remy and Warren stand in almost companionable silence and listen to the screams and shouts of commandos experiencing the full power of Bobby and Kurt's bored-on-Christmas-break ingenuity. There are lots of explosions, too, probably from Scott arming all of the lawn cannons.
Remy really does love this place, sometimes.
The first wave somehow make it through the lawn defenses and stumble up to the gate, which is as good a signal as any to start making their way down.
"See you in a minute," Warren says, and then casually dives over the edge of the balcony, wings unfurling and sending him careening straight into a trio of commandos who paused for too long on the steps of the porch.
Remy rolls his eyes and takes the stairs.
Jean has arranged Amara, Roberto, Tabby, Jubilee, and Ray into a range-fighter squadron. They're chucking Christmas tree ornaments at the commandos from behind the huge planters holding pine trees in the foyer. Remy appreciates that Jean has relaxed enough about the decorating to allow the ornaments to be misused in this fashion, and resolves to tell her that.
Later, of course, he decides, diving out of the way of three commandos who are sent flying by Rogue and Emma Frost's respective round-house kicks. He can't help but whistle appreciatively as Rogue smoothly pivots on one foot.
"Ah, mon cher, stunning as ever," he says. She flashes him a brilliant grin, tossing her head, white stripes bouncing in her curls.
"Oh, sugar, you know just what to say to a girl!"
This level of returned flirting is so unprecedented that Remy forgets how to function for a moment and just stares at her, gaping.
"Move, Cajun!" Logan's hand on his shoulder propels him across the room and into the corner by Jubilee. Logan spins back around and punches a commando directly in the throat. The man stumbles backward, clutching at his throat and choking. Remy thinks he maybe saw a bit of claw on that one, but he won't tell if Logan won't.
"Oh, you're here, perfect!" Jubilee exclaims briskly, dumping a pile of baubles at his feet. "Can you make these explode, please?"
That, Remy can definitely do. "Oui, petite," he says, fingers glowing. "Remy charge, you throw."
The first exploding bauble stuns a group of commandos right by the front door. Scott hits one of them with a bo staff, which Remy thinks is pretty dashing of him, weirdly. Scott and dashing really don't belong in the same sentence, but hey, Remy can be generous, okay. Sometimes Scott isn't a total drip.
Like now, for instance, when he's bashing commandos in the head.
The second exploding bauble, however…
"He's over here!"
Damn. Remy knows that voice. It's the Rumlow guy. He's bringing at least ten men over to where Remy and Jubilee are crouched.
They're coming for him.
"Gotta go, petite," he says, and before Jubilee can stop him or protest or do anything other than yelp, "Remy!," he runs. Dodging past the knot of commandos, thumbing his nose at Rumlow as he goes, Remy races further into the mansion, away from the younger mutants he's found a family with, away from Scott and Jean and Logan, away from Piotr and Kitty, who call out his name as he runs by, desperately trying to reach him and the group of commandos hot on his tail. He leads them away from Tabby and Ray and Roberto and Amara, away from Bobby and Kurt and the Brotherhood boys, who are all fighting their own battles. He leads them away from stupid Warren, who isn't Remy's family but is part of this strange and messy and wonderful life that he's made here, nevertheless. And he leads them away from Rogue, his Rogue, the love of his life and the strongest person he knows, with a power that men like Rumlow and Pierce would kill to have.
Remy won't let that happen. He won't.
"Over here!" he hollers, waving. Clumps of commandos are breaking off from their fights with the others, following Rumlow and his groups to chase after Remy. "You want me?" he yells. "Come and get me then!"
"Remy, no!" he hears Rogue gasp, but it's too late. Rumlow is barreling after him and there are commandos all around. The only way forward is through the kitchen.
Remy can work with that.
He bursts through the kitchen door, followed by eight commandos headed by Rumlow. The kitchen smells terrible. Like, rotten eggs terrible. And he can practically taste the alcohol in the air.
Rumlow grins at him fiercely and points. "You've made some enemies, mutant. I hope you know that," he snarls. He stomps forward and Remy retreats a few feet, pressing his back against the edge of the kitchen sink.
"Oh, Remy knows all about makin' enemies, you can rely on that." He smirks. "It's one of m' Best Qualities."
What is that smell? It's like, sour milk and rotten eggs and…
"Say, Rumbles," he says, slowly, easing his hand down behind his leg and fiddling with the door to the cupboard under the sink. "You know what the difference is between you and me?"
Rumlow rolls his eyes. "No, and I don't care," he says, stepping forward. "If you come quietly, this will be a whole lot easier for all of us, man."
Remy flashes his most dazzling grin and straightens up, holding the edge of the bowl in his hand. "It's that I know how to use my noggin'." A simple push of kinetic energy, a small nudge of physics.
The bowl of extremely alcoholic eggnog explodes in a rush of flames, the rum catching fire and mixing with whatever else Tabby had conjured up. It expands outward from Remy's hands, flaring into Rumlow's surprised face and leaping towards the next commando in line as Remy throws the flaming mixture over them all. They're burning and screaming, and Remy's head swims, sickly sweet as his vision goes blurry.
"Shouldn't have run so fast," he mumbles, sliding down to sit on the floor. Rumlow runs for the backdoor and crashes through the glass to reach the backyard, where Bobby helpfully puts out the fire by encasing him up to his eyebrows in ice.
"Oh my god, Remy!"
He wrenches his eyes open, because that sounds like Rogue, and he never wants to miss seeing her make an entrance. She's kneeling next to him, hands hovering over his body like she wants to touch him but can't bring herself to.
He wants to tell her that she can always touch him, anytime she wants, but he can't make his mouth move for some reason. He tries a dazzling grin, but either Rogue has somehow become immune to his charms – impossible, Remy is the most charming – or he's not being very dazzling right now either. "Damn it," he whispers.
"Don't you dare pass out on me now, Swamp Rat!"
Yikes, she sounds furious. He'd hate to be whoever pissed her off like that. His Rogue has quite a temper sometimes.
God, he's tired. The floor is weirdly comfortable here. There's something soft under his head.
"Remy just gonna take a li'l nap, okay?" he mumbles.
"No, no, Remy, don't – "
He doesn't get to hear what he's not supposed to do, but that's okay. People are always telling Remy not to do stuff around here. He's sure someone will tell him again, later.
…eleven pipers piping, ten lords a leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a milking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, FIVE GOLDEN RINGS! four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge in a pear tree!
A/N: So close. I'm so close…