Note from the Author: I know that I'm horrible. But as promised, I will not abandon this story until it's finished. And get this – I finally know how it ends!

Thank you all so very much for the patience, kind reviews, criticism, and continued reading. I hope you enjoy this latest installment.

Part 33: AWOL

Henri was still in de game, but he was starting to sweat.

"I'm flattered that the Thieves Guild thought well enough of me to send their prince in person, but we still have a little problem." Trey McGowan folded his hands in his lap, leaning back in his chair. "I can't have every rag tag band of pickpockets I run into thinking they can take a shot without facing consequences."

Henri only blinked, but his hands clenched into fists. Trey stood, pacing the room. "So tell me, what would your Guild do with an intruder who sought to make off with something that didn't belong to them?"

He waited wit' polite pretense for Henri's answer, but Henri smiled in a taunting way as he replied, "Intruders would never make it this far, so s' a moot point."

It was an insult. Trey McGowan was one o' de highest paid "private contractors" in de country. His reputation was known in de underground by his self-professed specialty - "janitor". Criminals and public figures hired him from time to time to "neutralize situations" – whether that meant paper trails, weapons, items come by dishonestly, or keeping witness accounts out of the media. Wit' warrants in seven states ranging from extortion to assault, he was not a man to take lightly – an ideal target.

Trey jus' happened to be in town on a divorce job – how sad. Turns out a certain corporate mogul had lavished his wife wit' nearly $100,000 in fine jewelry over deir six-year marriage; unbelievably she had left him over a lil issue of compulsive infidelity. Legally de jewelry was hers, but de insurance policy maintained by her husband would be split. Trey was transporting de articles out of country so dey could be stored in a foreign account and returned to de good businessman after de court proceedings – he'd keep de jewels and get $50,000 to boot. It was a bold move since he had an obvious motive, but knowing Trey dere would be no evidence and everything would come out clean – he would certainly charge enough.

"You know, I don't think you're taking this quite as seriously as I'd like."

Trey turned his gaze on me wit' a slight nod. I was playing de inside man on dis job, running personal security fo' Trey while he was in town. Trey preferred hired guns to be local, dat way dey knew de flavor and were never around long enough to know what he was up to. In theory.

I had been away from dis city fo' so long I was no longer a known figure. De career span of most professional criminals is less dan professional athletes. Henri was practically a celebrity of de underground, though de fact wounded my pride a little.

At his implied command, I took a step forward and threw my fist into Henri's jaw: de force snapped his head backward.

De smirk on Trey's face was quickly squelched when Henri started to laugh. "Do you really intend to handle me like a common street rat? Me?"

He calmed his guffaw and leveled an unconcerned stare back on Trey, ignoring me completely. "Let's cut de bullshit and talk plainly. You may have caught me, but now yo' faced wit' de problem o' what to do wit' me. After all, I infiltrated yo' base, know where yo' keeping de jewels, merde, I even know which flight yo' taking out o' town. You can't let me go. But you can only take yo' persecution so far. You can't risk making an enemy out o' de T'ieves."

Trey snorted. "The Thieves are a joke - low class, petty gutter swipers. Perhaps they should have thought better before making an enemy of me."

He nodded to me again, and I slugged Henri between the ribs, knocking de wind out o' him.

As he gasped fo' air and Trey t'ought up his next line, a dull buzz broke through de tension. Comically, Trey reached down for his cell phone. Finding it blank and lifeless. his eyes cut over to me scathingly.

I reached down and took de offending phone out o' my pocket. I hit de button to ignore de call, sparing a quick glance down at de number.

My breath stopped. Now? Why now?

My fingers itched, burned to flip it open, my body stilled fo' de rush of relief dat sound would bring. I held in place, unable to tear my eyes away.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gautier, am I interrupting some personal business of yours?"

I hadn't realized dat Trey had been talking to me. With every fiber of my being resisting, I put de phone back in my pocket.

"Sorry boss."

De jarring quiet had lasted only a few seconds befo' de buzzing started up again.

I clenched my hand into a tight fist as Trey stared me down. I tried to make my smile casual as I gave de smallest piece o'de truth.

"S' my girl. Guess she's a little lonely tonight."

Trey watched me wit' a considering look, but Henri's eyes got wide fo' jus' a moment as he searched my face. I could have kicked him fo' dropping his game like dat.

De buzzing stopped, and Trey looked at me a moment longer befo' turning back to Henri. "Pardon the interruption. Where were we?"

Henri smirked, "Don' worry about it. Good help is so hard to find dese days."

Trey opened his mouth to speak, but befo' he could de phone started again. Under his breath he muttered, "Dammit."

And dat was all de notice I got dat Trey 's trust in me was broken. In our world, suspicion is de same t'ing as guilt.

In de two seconds it had taken me to hit de floor, Trey drew de 9mm from inside his coat and fired a shot where I had been standing. I rolled into range and kicked a leg out, trying to bring him down. He sidestepped and aimed annudah shot, but Henri's bonds were not as constricting as Trey might have liked. He lunged from de chair and tackled him from de side.

"Merde, Remy! Help me hold him!"

But Trey didn't get to where he was wit'out being able to scrap. He covered his fist and used de force of bot' arms to drive an elbow into Henri's stomach. Henri doubled over, breath forced out in a loud "whoosh" dat left him gasping.

Trey grabbed de handgun from where it sat on de floor, leveling it at me again. But I was in close quarters now, my mind calm and staff drawn. I swung and landed a welt on his wrist, effectively disarming him as he used de force to roll deftly to his feet. I swung de staff down in front o' me, trying to knock him back down, but he caught it wit' his powerful arms, bringing us face to face.

His voice was cool. "You think you're the first traitor? Oh no my little friend, I like a good traitor every now and again. It puts the fun back in a good old-fashioned homicide. "

He tossed his head back and sent his skull crashing into mine befo' I could react. Fo' a moment all I could see was stars as several mo' blows crashed into my jaw.

Still sputtering, Henri tried to intervene but it only earned him a wallop right in de chest. It was jus' enough o' a break fo' me to regain my composure. I was a danger room alumni, no way would I be taken down by one stupid criminal. Besides, he wasn't really a martial artist per se, jus' a skilled brawler. I needed to handle him like I used to handle Login in training. De trick here was to be faster and out o' reach. I dropped to de floor and rolled over to my discarded staff, swinging it in a wide arc to give myself a little room.

"Get out o' here Henri. I got dis."

Trey half smirked, confident he could take me. Henri looked uncertain, but I glared him down until he took a dive fo' de door. Trey dove after him and I jabbed de end o' my staff between his shoulder blades. His back arched involuntarily and dat gave Henri enough o' a window to get out o' de room.

Trey cracked his neck and turned back to me. "All right Mr. Gauthier, you first."

I easily side-stepped his first lunge, leaving him wit' a wallop on de back o' his head fo' de trouble, but I misinterpreted his goal as his open hand approached de gun on de floor. I knew I couldn' get to gun befo' he did, so in a split decision I leapt after him.

When he turned and swung de barrel around at me expertly, I was ready. Catching the cool steel between my fingers, I kept myself barely out of the line o' sight befo' charging and detonating. De energy set off de bullet, which went whizzing past my ear, and de gunpowder burned us bot' as de metal went to pieces.

Trey was left dumbstruck by the unexpected outcome, and I was quickly able to fell him and pin him on the floor, arm twisted behind him. Game, set and match.

Merci burst into the room, eyes wild until she had surveyed the scene. Once she determined that no one had been shot, she was quick to help me tie the now wordless criminal. She gave me a reproachful look, but didn't say anything. It technically wasn't over until we dropped him at de police station, so we avoided de "constructive criticism" fo' now.

We lugged him outside to where Logan was waiting wit' de car. Logan was going to be de innocent bystander, finding an incapacitated Trey on de side o' de road and handing him in to de police fo' a hefty twenty thousand dollar reward. Merci had cracked the safe, making off wit' half de jewels – after all, we needed to leave enough evidence to implicate Trey in de crime. Seventy-five thousand wasn't bad fo' a night's work. De wife would get half her jewels back and $25,000, and the husband (should he even be able to clear his name) would get $25,000 - a pittance after the hundred-fifty grand he counted on.

Logan dropped us at a safe point so he could hit de police station while Merci, Henri and I switched to a different car to head back. We barely got de doors closed befo' Merci started in.

"What in de hell happened? I had jus' closed de door to de safe and was headed fo' de window when I heard you two idiots letting yo' macho instincts get de better o' you."

"It was an accident-" Henri started in helplessly.

"An accident? AN ACCIDENT? Dis was our biggest heist in months and you had an accident?" She practically spat de words , "Do you understand dat 'accidents' normally lead to body bags? Jus' what was I supposed to think when I heard dat gun go off? You two had one job, on job only, I can't get in and out if I can't trust you two to do yo' damn job wit'out-"

Henri leaned between the seats and grabbed her by de back o' de neck, pulling her down to plant a hard kiss on her mouth. She punched him de chest, seething as she drew back. "Don't you DARE try to sweet talk your way out-"

"I'm sorry I worried you, chere. We had to play it by ear a little bit," He gave her de full force o' his baby blues, brimming wit' remorse and sincerity.

Merci's teeth came togeddah wit' an audible click as she turned to stare out de window, jaw clenched tight. She was undoubtedly plotting all de ways to make his life hell.

I barely registered de spat. My mind was completely on de phone burning a hole in my pocket. I needed to get home, to get someplace private so I could find out jus' what was so urgent.

What if she was in trouble? Surely not, she was wit' de rest o' de team. Maybe she jus' wanted to talk? Yeah right, like after all dis time she'd try to be casual. What could she possibly have wanted from me bad enough to call three times back to back?

"Aren't you driving a little fast dere Remy?"

"Hmm?'

"We don' exactly want a speeding ticket, non?"

I glanced down to de speedometer as de needle twitched past 75 mph.

"What's de limit?" I asked innocently, as if I didn' know it was 55 and had been fo' years.

"Take yo' current speed and subtract a lot." Wit' a sigh, I begrudgingly eased my foot off de gas. Felt like we were crawling.

"Dat fire fight back dere got you a little riled, hahn?"

I glanced over my shoulder blankly. "Quoi?"

"De asshole wit' de gun!" Merci spat, still in a bad mood.

"Oh. Yeah." Actually, couldn' be further from de truth. I had already forgotten bout dat. In fact, none o' dese heists really held my attention fo' long.

"Hey dat reminds me, who de hell called you?"

I kept my eyes on de road. "Don' know. I'll check it once we get home."

Henri kept his face cool as he pushed, "Shouldn' you check it now? Somebody calls three times I'll wager s' important."

"Mind yo' own business." I snapped irritably.

Wit'out warning, Merci's wrath turned on me. "You watch yo' mouth! Yo' so wrapped up in yo' own little world dat you don' notice anyt'ing, not even de fact dat you and yo' bruddah almos' got killed!"

"Henri and me been in worse scraps befo', will be again too. Maybe you need to decide if yo' a t'ief or a housewife."

"And you need to decide if yo' a t'ief or an X-man."

I wished she'd hit me instead: dat's what I had expected her to do. "You make it sound like I have a choice."

Glaring out our separate windows, we rode in silence back to de docks and de motor boat, and finally home.

Merci marched herself upstairs to the bedroom she normally shared with Henri and locked de door. Henri sighed as his shoulders slumped.

"If she wasn't de biggest pain in de world, I would never be sure she was really meant fo' me. Looks like a night on de couch. You up fo' a movie? I could use some time to wind down and somebody ought to wait up fo' Logan."

A part o' me felt guilty – it was rare to have time jus' us, wit' him having a family and de guild keeping us running.

"Actually…I'm a lil beat. I t'ink I'll take a glass o' bourbon and hit de hay." Henri only shrugged, flopping down on de couch wit' de remote.

Forcing myself not to run, I made my way upstairs, trudging down de hall and into my room. Once de door was closed, I whipped my phone out o' my pocket.

A little yellow envelope lit up de screen. "New Message" it said. All at once my hands went cold. Wasn' it obvious? Dere was no emergency – she was in New York wit' de team. She wasn' calling to chat. Dis was it. De moment I had been dreading from de beginning. From dose green eyes looking up out o' her notebook in de courtyard, to her waking in my arms in Sinister's lab. From de rooftops o' New Orleans to de coffee shop back home. From de danger room to de collapsing garage. From her bed where we lay awake to de driveway where she faded from my sight.

I had known all along dat dis was coming. And still I wasn' ready.

I walked over and sat down on my bed, pulling de bourbon out o' my nightstand. Had it been so long since she slept here, in dis same bed? Dere was no trace o' her here now. Taking a swig from de bottle, I stared at my phone like it was a living, breathing entity. At any moment it could strike and end everyt'ing.

Still, a stupid flicker o' hope floated through my mind, probably a side effect o' de bourbon. As much as I dreaded what was lurking in dat envelope, dere was no way I could leave it until morning.

Taking another long swig from de bottle, I put de cap back on and steeled myself. Holding de phone to my ear, I pressed play.

"Hi Remy. It's me. Ah was hopin' to catch you befoah we take off tomorrow, but ah guess yoah in bed or out someplace loud. Look, um…ah know we haven't talked, but ah wanted to let you know that Ah'm thinkin' about ya, and hope yoah enjoyin' the time with yoah family. And voicemail probably isn't the best way to tell you that but….anyway, ah'll call ya when we get back. And….ah miss you. So, ah guess that's all then. Bye. "

A soft beep let me know de message was over. I sat motionless fo' a moment, and den pressed play again, listening closely to each word, every inflection o' her voice, every pause.

Another soundless minute passed, and den I was up off my chair. No longer caring fo' appearances I ran down de stairs and lobbed de phone at Henri, who cocked an eyebrow at my outburst.

"Tell me what it means."

Henri looked at the phone then back at me coolly. "It means you probably drank yo' bourbon a little fast."

Rolling my eyes impatiently, I pointed to de phone, "Listen to the message. Tell me what it means."

Hesitantly, Henri picked it up and put it to his ear. As soon as de message began to play, he grinned, "S' our girl all right!"

"But what does it mean?"

"Shh! 'S still playing." Henri listened intently, his face more serious. He took one look at de desperation in my face, and den he was off de couch, marching up de stairs.

I followed him blankly, still waiting fo' an answer. He knocked on Merci's door.

"Go away, Henri."

"Merci, we need yo' help."

"I don't care."

"Rogue's on de phone. Remy's asking me to analyze. I don't want to give him de wrong answer."

Seconds later, de door opened a crack and Merci held her hand out. Henri deposited de phone and she retreated back into de shadows. We waited.

After a moment, de door opened a little wider and Merci studied my face. "First off, I don't know her so well and you haven't told us what happened. But dat aside…I t'ink she's being sincere."

"About what? What does she mean by dis?"

Merci held her hands up apologetically. "Like I said, I don't know her dat well."

Just den, de front door opened. We looked at each other, quickly realizing who it must be. In one solid pack, we rushed down de stairs.

Logan looked up at us like we were crazy. "Geez. I didn't know you cared." He cautiously held out de envelope presumably containing reward money fo' Trey.

Merci held out de phone to him. "Translate, please."

"Something wrong with yer English today?"

She shoved it into his hand insistently. Grunting in discomfort, he put de phone to his ear and pressed play. To his credit, he didn't react to the voice on de uddah end.

Handing de phone back, he said calmly, "You sure you want my input? You should know her well enough by now."

I jus' nodded, not daring to let my mind run it over.

Logan sighed, "You didn't hear this from me. It means she's been thinkin' about you all the time, and doesn't want you to give up on her cause she hasn't given up on you. And that she misses you. Rogue doesn't mince words much – she usually means what she says."

His voice was gruff, ever disdainful o' emotional honesty. My heart hit lightly in my chest, once, twice, and den thundered out o' control. She missed me!

I felt de grin spread across my face and couldn' care. Henri clapped my back. "I guess dis means yo' gon' start acting human again?"

"Didn' you hear? My girl hasn' given up on me. Human doesn' even cover it!"

Merci smiled at me teasingly, "Only himself when he's in love."

Henri grabbed de phone from Logan and handed it back to me, "You gon' call her back?"

My mind skipped joyfully. Call her? Talk to her?

Logan shook his head. "Not now. It's one A.M. here, which means its two A.M. in New York. She said her piece, she needs to rest and focus on the mission."

My heart sank back down a little, but I knew he was right. I wouldn't let this mild disappointment cloud de fact dat Rogue still wanted me, at least a little.

A new t'ought hit, one which set my emotions on another roller coaster. It had been cold and dark inside fo' so long, all dis excitement took a toll. Rogue was leaving tomorrow fo' Antarctica, and I wouldn' be dere to protect her.

"Logan…dey really going wit'out us?"

"Whadja think they were gonna do?" Logan tried to sound casually sarcastic, but de rough edge in his tone gave him away: he didn't like dis any mo' dan me.

"Who's going where'xactly?" Henri chimed in. Logan and I searched his face, trying to decide if he was asking as a t'ief or as a friend.

Shrugging, Logan answered cool as a cucumber, "They're on a reconnaissance mission. Trying to find out where the missing mutants from the Sentinel attack ended up."

Merci's eyes grew wide. "Dey trying to find de robots?" Her eyes turned accusingly at me, "And you were going to go and not tell anybody? Where are dey looking anyway?"

"Dat's classified."

Rolling her eyes, she asked cynically, "De X-men have classification?"

Logan fixed them with one o' his cold stares, de kind dat said "give up immediately", "No. But the United Nations sure does."

Henri's face was full o' concern. "What you got yo'self caught up in, bruddah?"

"Nothing, as it turns out. Dey kicked me out. Dat's dat."

"Which means, we're completely blind until the team gets back. We'll have no way of knowin' if they're ok, and no way of helping." Logan shoved de envelope into Henri's hands unceremoniously and shoved past him toward de den.

Henri and Merci watched him go, den watched me fo' a reaction. I tried to school my features. "We jus' gon' have to wait. Nothing fo' it. Dey trained. Dey don' need us. " I wasn' sure whether I said so fo' dey're benefit or mine.

I could tell dey wanted to ask me mo' questions so I hurried to follow Logan. He was sitting on de couch, flipping through stations wit'out really waiting to see what was on each one.

Henri and Merci looked at us and den each uddah, debating whether to join us, but eventually decided against it. At least dis lil' spectacle had won Henri hack his bed. Always a bright side.

We sat in silence, wishing that the flashing box had enough magic to distract us from de knowledge dat in a few hours, everyt'ing we cared about would be on a plane towards danger - wit'out us.

"It's not like they don't know what they're doing." Logan muttered under his breath.

I wasn' totally sure if he talking to me, but t'ought I'd answer anyway, "Absolutement. We'd probably jus' distract dem, what wit' yo' anger issues and my relentless charm."

Logan cut his eyes half-heartedly at de jab. "So exactly how much of tonight's take do we keep?"

"Half goes to de house, de rest split four ways. We come out wit' around $9,300 each."

"Is that enough to get from here to Antarctica?"

Our eyes met in quiet acknowledgement. "If you know how to haggle, which I do."

"How long do we give 'em?"

"You wan' to give dem a window?"

"We show up, our reputation is gone forever. That and Rogue'll slug you if she thinks you're underestimating her."

Sighing heavily, I gave it some t'ought. "How long were dey planning to be dere?"

Logan shook his head, "Wasn't exactly clear from the briefings. They're searching through ice, could find nothin'. A month?"

A month? Thirty days o' wondering? "Two weeks."

"It's gonna take 'em a week to get there."

"Two weeks."

Logan eyed me carefully, den de corner o' his mouth twitched. "Two weeks from tomorrow. Book it."

De beginning o' a countdown is always de worst part.

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