The question was an interesting one, and she let it sit and stew in her mind while she tended to the tropical oasis around her. A snip here, some water there and an occasional whisper of encouragement—that was the secret to her magic. Weather, she had realized, was what enabled nature to exist. Yet it was here, where she the weather goddess was able to create a lush environment with her own two hands alone, this was where she felt the most human. Here she overcame her very nature and relied solely on the skills of her hands and mind to create something beautiful. Her visitor didn't press, something that didn't go unnoticed or unappreciated. "Then you believe," she finally stated, staring into the face of an orchid whose name she could not quite recall, "that the rumor is fact?"
"It is more than likely."
She nodded and moved along. "Bishop, I am given to understanding from your accounts of your world that the lines of fact and fiction were not entirely…stable." He shrugged uncomfortably, and she raised one eyebrow at him in reply to the unspoken acknowledgement. "The difference between rumor and truth was judged by the recipient of the rumor, not by fact but circumstance. That is correct?"
He leaned heavily against the doorframe to the greenhouse, arms crossed over his chest. "Storm, this time I am right. Gambit knows it's true, the rumors are correct."
"And you fear that what we assumed to be the war to begin your future was, in actuality, not." She sighed and spun back to face him, mimicking his stance. Arms crossed heavily over her chest, head tilted slightly downward so her eyes were leveled along her brow line, one corner of her mouth strayed toward the floor and her feet turned slightly apart. "Bishop it is not simply your future, it is all of our futures. What you seem unable to accept is that you have as little control over the outcome as any of us do. The Goddess knows what tomorrow may bring and I do not question her." She watched him tense and shake his head at the floor. "Neither should you." Silently she unfolded, realizing how badly her time lost charge was in need of comfort, not opposition. "I understand it is difficult, my friend. You have lived through what might only be for us. This may be your past, but when you made the choice to travel backwards it also became your present and your future became as uncertain for you as ours is for us." She smirked and reached for his hand. "In a way you may be luckier than all of us, your past may never actually occur. Any and all past discretions can therefore be forgiven, better-forgotten. I can think of no few people who would love to have that opportunity."
Bishop's eyes narrowed fractionally. "Don't patronize me Storm."
"I am not patronizing." Had she been anyone other than herself the smirk gracing her lips would have indicated otherwise.
"And I am being serious."
"As am I," she turned and went back to caring for her less cumbersome charges. "As is Gambit also, I assure you. He has never left anything to chance, now is not the time he would choose to do so."
"You have so much trust in him."
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Remy is very misunderstood." The unspoken question permeated the silence and for once she decided to give in and answer. "Given a choice Remy LeBeau has always chosen the lesser of two evils. I knew when he first found me, there is much good in him to trust. Something it has taken him long to come to terms with." She eyed Bishop over her shoulder. "Something you should have already realized, long ago when he found you. We have much in common, Bishop. There are days I am surprised by how much we share in common."
"There was not much good about the choices the Witness made." His stare moved fractionally from the concrete floor to the woman in front of him.
"Not the choices, the man. It is Remy's great misfortune to be constantly placed in situations where there is no good choice." She spun to face him again and pointed one regal finger. "What makes him the man that he is, is his conscious effort to inflict the smallest amount of harm. Leaders on a battlefield are never faced with easy choices." Storm sighed and traced her fingers through one lacy fern. "Sadly, it seems a life that he was born and raised for, to lead. I assure you, it is not something he enjoys."
If asked what his favorite thing about being under Gambit's command was Logan would probably say: the beer. No kids, no reason to hide the alcohol. He flipped the cap off the Hefe Weiss and looked at the label—Muskoka. Good beer. Yah, it was a German beer kind of day, matched the German bitch sitting across the room. "Yah got some nerve, give yah that."
Raven offered a fluid shrug. "I was never a big fan of Cajun."
"Hmph." Logan took a pull and put the bottle on the table, aware he'd catch hell later for leaving a ring. "Tell me somethin', there a reason yer tryin' ta get yer ass packed outta this joint? Cuz lady, way I see it yer oughta be beggin' us for asylum." He grabbed his bottle and took another swig, eyeing Mystique as only a true predator could. "Asylum's certainly where ya belong."
"That's funny coming from somebody like you." She slid off the counter and marched decisively toward him, shifting slowly into the mirror image of the one and only Wolverine. "Not like ya don't have yer own head problems, bub."
The SNKT was distinctive and instantaneous, giving even the trained shape shifting assassin no time to react before three lethal claws were at her throat. "Ya may be the best at what you do, Mystique. But I'm the best at what I do, and I don't care what Gumbo says, you ain't worth the trouble."
"Did I interrupt the fun?" The markedly British accent floated over to him through the doorway and with one final SNKT the claws were gone and the figure before him was once more blue and female.
"Ain't interruptin' nothin', Betts." Logan finished off the last of the bottle, tossed it in the sink and grabbed for the fridge door once more. "Mystique here was just about to tell me why she's bein' extra bitchy today."
"And wouldn't that be something to hear."
Mystique grinned wickedly and turned away from the Canadian now that his head was buried in the fridge and was showing no more interest in her game. "Gee, Wolverine. You seem to have gotten the Ninja's butt floss all in a twist with expectation."
Betsy reached toward a cabinet and Logan grinned, she'd pulled this little trick on him once before and Mystique had no way of knowing what was coming. The dull thud of fist meeting skull was followed by the sharper sound of skin slapping skin. Knowing Betsy, probably a wrist grab twisted into a cross body restraint. "I am no ordinary Ninja, love. So let's leave my 'butt floss' out of this and the pretty blue lady can tell us what's gone up her ass sideways today?"
"Damn shadow walker."
Betsy snickered. "Remember that next time you decide to take a walk in the dark. Now I'm bored, entertain me." She released Raven in one fluid motion leaned casually against the wall as if she hadn't just bested Mystique in a brief round of hand to hand combat. Logan really did like the post Crimson Dawn Betsy a hell of a lot more than her predecessor, less psychic knife waving and much more ass whooping.
"Did your Angel fly the coop?"
Rather than rising to the bait Betsy flashed a winning smile right back at Raven. The two could probably have competed for coldest hearted on the team and Logan would have had difficulty choosing a winner. "When the bird is away the cat needs new prey."
"Clever." Raven grumbled. Logan snorted into his new beer. "And what is it I'm supposed to be telling the two of you that you don't already know?" Neither answered and Raven held her hands up like an innocent preschooler. "Am I not allowed to detest a man who has tried to defile my daughter on a regular basis for years now?"
"Considerin' ya assassinated yer own son on live national television…." Logan bared his teeth in a feral grin. "No."
"He was an abomination." Raven snarled back.
"Looking at his pedigree it certainly can't be a surprise." Betsy laughed and reached for an apple out of the bowl behind her. "You can't have expected the result of breeding two abominations to have been anything other than revolting." Her piercing violet stare snapped from the skin of the apple to Mystique's golden eyes. "But changing the subject only prolongs the conversation."
Taking his cue, Logan moved in on Mystique just like he had planned with Betts earlier, cornering her between the Ninja, the wall and the Wolverine. "Ya covered fer Phantasm in the Danger Room this mornin'. Ya certainly ain't given ta bein' the chivalrous type." Mystique started to open her mouth in protest, but was silenced once more by a SNKT. "Smelled shame and embarrassment all over the kid. Question is did ya do it ta piss Gumbo off, or you playin' some bigger game here?"
Logan watched Betsy out of the corner of his eye as she held her fist casually in front of her face, a purple dagger of energy appeared from seemingly out of nowhere. "She doesn't really have to tell us Logan."
He watched Mystique turn her gaze toward Psylocke long enough to catch sight of her Psychic Knife. A faint whiff of fear wafted off her for the briefest of moments, though she didn't show it. Logan had to give the witch credit, she was harder to read than half of Hank's library. "I am not stupid enough to try and do more than what I can to get under that low life's skin. Do you really think if I were up to something I'd be wasting my time here? That bastard has cut me off from all my contacts and left me with nothing. And he enjoys rubbing my nose it every chance he gets. I'm not grateful, and I don't care. So long as he keeps me prisoner here I have every right to make his life a living hell, and I fully intend to do just that." The Knife flickered out and Logan sheathed his claws.
Think it's truth or bloody lies?
"You keep tellin' yerself that, Raven." Logan swiped his beer back off the nearby windowsill and sauntered out the door. Could be either, she got damn nervous when you pulled yer little head trick. Might just have been fear of being stabbed in the head. Course Raven's head is so messed, she might not know if she's tellin' the truth.
He got back the mental equivalent of a sigh, but he no longer cared. The only thing that went better with beer than pretzels was meditation, and the Wolverine was going to go do just that.
He let the door shut behind him, the ghost of a smile still on his face. It had been good see the look on her face when they got to joking around—like old times. He threw himself into his desk chair and whipped out his blackberry and pressed the button on the lower left edge. "Say a command" the phone woman ordered.
"Call"
"Please say the name of the person you'd like to call"
"Theoren"
"Did you say 'theeyorin'?"
"Yes" Remy laughed, the way the disembodied voice of his blackberry butchered his cousin's name killed him every time.
"Calling 'theeyorin'."
"Ha!" He covered his mouth quickly, knowing he'd get an answer after the first ring.
Sure enough. "Allo Remy. What you got?"
Remy kicked his feet up on the desk. "Why you always gotta t'ink it's business, coz?"
He heard the dry laugh on the other end of the line. "Cuz you ain't never called jus' t'check on de family."
"S'true." He pulled the jump drive out of his pocket for inspiration, twirling it idly between his fingers. "Got an eyes n' ears job, need somebody pretty level headed for it."
"Y' jus' eliminated half de guild." Remy laughed. "Eyes n' ears, hmm." He could practically hear the gears turning in Theoren's head. "It gotta be guild?"
That got Remy thinking. "Truth…non. Fact, probably better if it be an outside job. Plausible deniability 'n all dat."
"Plausible deniability?" Theoren asked. Remy could hear the gears in his head turning as clearly as he heard him start typing on a keyboard in the background. "Dis gon' be one o' dem jobs, huh? Dat means we gon have to pay."
"Yup, figgered dat, mon ami."
"Who payin'?"
Remy mulled that thought over for a few seconds, mentally double checking account balances and outstanding debts faster than many could recall their bank's name. "I t'ink de team'll cover dis one. We got more'n enough 'rainy day' money sittin' aroun. Be easier than tryin' ta filter money out of de Guild accounts."
He heard Theoren breath a sigh of relief. "Bien. Where am I puttin' dese eyes n' ears?"
Remy stared up at the ceiling. "Russia. Need 'em on de ground in Russia."
"Russia be a big place, Remy. You got anyt'ing more specific dan dat?"
"Workin' on it, still tryin' ta translate dis chouchoot I done got from de feds last night. F'right now I'd say Moscow be a good place to start. Hire it out, get 'em on de ground. I gonna be givin' dem a call soon's you have flight info uploaded. I'll give our podna de details."
"Bon, de encrypted line?"
"Y'gotta ask?"
"Heh, guess not. I'll reset de encryption code on my end, upload it t'ya phone when I'm done."
"Bien. How is de family doin?"
Theoren laughed. "De famille is doin' jus' fine. Probably better wit' you not bein' here no more."
"Ouch!" Remy laughed, his cousin's tone had taken the sting out of that one. Truth be told, he was probably right. Remy had been there right when they needed him. Survival was more than instinct for him, and he had gotten them through the worst of the storm—no pun intended. Now though, they needed somebody more like Theoren who could concentrate on more than just ensuring the bare necessities. Left to just Remy, they'd probably all still be bunkered down somewhere in Texas.
"Hahaha! Don't go takin' it personal, coz. You get de pictures Lapin sent?"
Remy's eyebrows knitted together for a second, and he started the laptop in his office for the first time ever. "Non, what he send pictures of?" He tapped impatiently on the screen while windows loaded.
"Boy, you have been outta de loop for awhile. His gaienne had de baby, little boy."
"Christ!" Remy swore. "You kiddin'! Didn' even know de boy had a girlfriend. Ha! Lapin, a daddy. Now dat's a scary thought."
"Jus' be glad it wasn' a girl. Dey was seriously gonna name it Katrina."
"Ugh. What dey name it?"
Silence for a moment. "Xavier Remy Lapin." Dead silence for another few seconds. "Never could convince dat boy you were no good. I'll resend de pictures. Bye coz." The line went dead.
Remy just sat there for a good few minutes, staring at his phone. "I'll be damned," he finally whispered. He pulled the laptop closer and logged into his e-mail. Sure enough, there were pictures—lots of pictures. "I'll be damned!" He laughed and opened one of the pictures of his cousin holding the baby. Lapin looked scared out of his wits and the baby was screaming.
"What are you laughing at, sugah?" He spun, surprised that Rogue had managed to come in without him noticing. "Sorry, the door was open and y' did say two hours…"
Remy waved his hand at her to let her know it was okay and went back to the pictures. "S'alright, chere. Lapin just had a baby, lookin' at de pictures he sent."
She sat on the floor next the desk, seeing as there was nowhere else in the room to sit. "Serious? That's a frightenin' thought."
"Y'ain't kiddin'. Check dis out." He turned the computer so she could see the picture currently on the monitor. It was a shot of Lapin trying desperately to change the baby's diaper, and obviously failing. "Now dat's priceless."
She giggled, covering her mouth with one gloved hand. "It is pretty good, but this isn't gettin' those files translated…"
"Non, y'right." He closed the files somewhat reluctantly. "He named him Xavier Remy Lapin." He turned to look Rogue in the eyes, needing to see some sort of reaction. Out of all of them he knew she would understand. She was the only one who had ever met his family, the only one who really got it.
"You miss them, don'tcha sugah?"
He nodded. Even Theoren had managed to bury the hatchet between them, he had finally realized it belonged six feet under with Etienne. As much as they treated him like the black sheep, they were still his family and N'awlins was still home. But as much as he wanted to be back there, he knew he belonged here. He was needed here. "Mebbe after dis situation calms down I'll go home for a visit."
Rogue smiled and nodded. "Maybe you should." Then she started laughing. "You realize this poor baby is doomed. He's either gonna take after his Daddy or his namesake. Either way he ain't got a chance."
She looked him straight in the eye for a second, then he started laughing too. "Dey were gonna name it Katrina if it had been a girl."
"Thank gawd fer small favors." Rogue rolled her eyes and stood. "Alright, Cajun. If we're gonna get down to work I'm gonna need a chair. Don't you own any furniture?"
