**********

Logan glanced around the empty room in frustration, blue eyes
skimming across the walls, ceiling and floor. There was no doubt
about it – the kid had been here. His scent rested heavily in the
room, carelessly intertwined with the appalling reek of burned wood
and plaster.

He let calloused fingers trail along the scorch-marks on the closet
doors. Logan had been tracing the thief for the last two days and if
the increasing wreckage was any indication at all, things were
getting worse by the hour.

Silently, he cursed the kid's stubborn refusal of help. Not that that
mattered – the moment he found him, he was going to drag him back to
the mansion and force said help upon him, whether the Cajun wanted it
or not.

The problem was that the kid was proving to be rather elusive. Not
that Logan had expected Remy to be easy to find – the kid knew how to
hide when he wanted too – but he'd thought that the added handicap of
having his powers spiral slowly out of control would at least have
slowed the thief down.

Logan sighed, before sitting down on the bed in the dingy little
room, wondering were he should go from here. The kid's trail stopped,
but there was no kid in sight. It was almost as if Remy had been
playing with him, leaving him just enough clues to follow him to the
next location, before disappearing completely.

He had no illusions about the thief not knowing he was being
followed. Being discrete wasn't exactly the Wolverine's style and if
you go around beating up someone's contacts to find them, that person
is definitely going to notice that something's wrong.

Logan felt anger spark, but suppressed it – getting angry wasn't
going to help anyone. Re-examining the facts would be of far more
use. He was getting closer; that much couldn't be denied. The kid's
scent was still fresh – it couldn't be more than a few hours old.

And Remy was definitely struggling to hide – two days ago the joined
efforts of Jean and the Professor couldn't pick the kid up on any
mental radar, but now his defences had shattered sufficiently enough
for them to be able to track him down to a two-mile radius. Alright,
it wasn't much, but it was something and they were getting closer to
pinpointing him. Their word was the only proof Logan had that Gambit
was still in the city.

He refused to think what would happen if Remy decided to leave the
city. With a playground as large as the world to hide in, Logan
doubted that he'd ever find him. Briefly ice-blue eyes flickered to
the trace of moonlight at his feet, the only thin strand to escape
the close-drawn curtains.

A frown knotted between his brows. Something wasn't right about it,
but he couldn't put his finger on it. The curtain shifted, letting a
slight breeze through, along with more light as it was tossed
slightly to the side.

His gaze shifted to it, as he turned his head to look, wondering what
was bothering him, except the absence of his prey. Except the absence
of his prey and the fact that their fearless leader didn't seem at
all concerned with Remy's recent departure from the mansion.

Scott could really be a stubborn asshole when he wanted to. If any
other member of the team was missing Fearless would probably be out
here himself, looking for them. For anyone, but the kid and himself.

Then again, it wasn't really like he could blame Scott for not
believing that the Cajun wouldn't return this time, weeks later and
in perfect health, like he and Logan both always doing. In fact, most
of the Team's attitude towards Remy's disappearance rubbed him the
wrong way.

He could hardly believe that only four people in the mansion could
find it in themselves to care about what happened to the kid. Some
family they were, perhaps Remy would be better off without them, but
that didn't change the fact that the kid needed help. Or that Logan
was going to find him if it was the last thing he did.

***********

"Scott, please reconsider." Ororo was leaning over his desk, bracing
herself with fine-boned hands against its hard surface as she stared
their fearless leader straight in the visor.

Cyclops looked back at her, his hidden gaze unflinching and
uncompromising behind its mask. "No." The word was simple and
staggering in its finality. Ororo pulled away, straightening her back
so that she could glare down at their leader.

"Why are you doing this? If it were anyone else we would all be out
there looking for him." Ororo asked angrily, her voice cold and low,
the storm brewing beneath it palpable, even as her features remained
calm: the only indication of her rising emotion her tone of voice.

"Gambit always comes back. What makes you think he won't this time?"
Ororo's eyes stopped halfway between their normal shade and turning
an iris-less white, the roaring thunder outside, echoing her mood.

"I don't believe it." Ororo's expression became almost pained as she
took a step backwards, the off-white of her coat sliding against her
ankles. "You have not listened to a single word of what Logan or the
Professor have told you. My brother's shields are crumbling and after
the fiasco in Antarctica he has no reason to come to us for help."

"From what the Professor's said about those shields making Gambit a
telepathic ghost I'd think he'd be happy that they're disintegrating.
Why do…" Scott didn't get to finish his sentence as a loud crack
resounded through the room.

Gingerly he raised his palm to his cheek, where Ororo had slapped
him, the red palm-print throbbing furiously. "You're a fool." Storm
hissed at him, the wind outside rattling the windows of his study.

"Ask your wife what it would be like for her, if she lost her
shields." She turned and stalked from the room, but only made it as
far as the door, her fingers sealing on the doorknob, about to turn
it, before Scott spoke again. He'd stood up behind his desk, one hand
reaching out, almost as though to stop her from leaving.

"But he isn't a telepath." Ororo didn't turn as she pulled the door
open.

"No, he isn't. But there are other gifts that require mental shields
for survival." The door slammed shut behind her, with such force that
the windows rattled from more than just the rising wind outside.

Scott half-fell half-sat back down in his chair. `Other mental
gifts…'

***********

Logan glanced around the room for the hundredth time – there had to
be something he was missing… some kind of clue to where the Cajun was
heading next.

The slightly billowing curtain drew his attention once more.
Something still bothered him about it. Moonlight trickled through the
gaps like silver rain, beckoning his eyes to follow it to the floor -
that feeling of wrongness increasing as he did so.

A single pool of dark shadow was revealed in the centre of the silver
beam as the rising wind tossed the curtain further away from the open
window. There was a storm brewing. He could just hear the roar of
distant thunder. Briefly he wondered if old Fearless had been stupid
enough to make Ororo mad. She did say that she was going to try to
talk some sense into him, last time the two of them spoke.

He shook his head, his attention fixing on the black triangle that
presented itself, breaking the dark shadow of the curtain with a
single jagged edge, as it seemed to stab its way into the light.

He turned around slowly, before moving to the window and pulling the
curtains open in one single violent movement.

The Jack of Diamonds stared at him from where it had been wedged
firmly into the frame of the partially open window. He reached for
it, pulling it free from its perch before shutting the window against
the scattered raindrops that had started to fall.

It seemed that the kid had left him a gift after all. Curiously he
flipped the card over between his fingers. A feral smile spread
across his features as he read what had been scrawled on the back in
the flowing script he easily recognised as the kid's.

What was the Cajun thinking? He should have known that those three
words would only make the hunter in him want to catch his prey
more. `Stop following me.' Remy must really be in desperate straits
if he thought that would dissuade Logan from the chase.

`Maybe he wants to be found…' the thought stopped Logan in his tracks.

***********

Darkness pressed against the side of the greenhouse, the wind howling
around the corners as rain obscured the image of its keeper moving
inside from one of her precious `children' to the next in silent
determination to work off some of the rage she felt at Scott's
behaviour.

Storm clouds swirled overhead and lightning ripped the skies asunder
as the rain came down more heavily. The gentle symphony of twinkling
bells as it tapped against the glass overhead turned to more harsh
sounds of a pummelling torrent of a seemingly ceaseless downpour.

Ororo fumed, the rain seeming to draw her anger from her, as it would
steam from sun-baked earth. And as the anger began to dissipate, the
dreaded feeling of hopelessness and despair returned. The waiting was
going to drive her insane. It had already driven her into Scott's
office to fight what she knew was a losing battle…

He could be a stubborn prick when he wanted to.

The wind rejoined the chorus of the rain with renewed fervour,
scratching against the glass and driving her thoughts from her mind,
before the door banged open under the onslaught. Ororo moved to push
it close again, before the worst of the weather could penetrate her
sanctuary, sliding the lock into place and making sure that it would
remain shut this time.

She sighed, surveying the falling rain through the transparent shield
of the thick glass, her breath fogging against the surface as the
weather echoed her mood to perfection. Something cold and wet brushed
against her neck as it came to rest on her shoulder.

Surprised, she whirled around, throwing what appeared to be a gloved
hand from her shoulder as she faced its owner. Her breath left her in
a silent gasp as she fell back against the glass wall for support.

Her eyes roved over the figure standing in front of her in quiet
desperation that he was really there. Remy stood before her, dripping
wet and grinning like a maniac, demonic eyes dancing with inner light
even through the dark lenses of sunglasses - inappropriate as they
were for this weather.

"Miss me, Stormy?" he asked, nearly falling over as she flung
herself into his arms. "I'll take that as `oui'," he continued,
smiling as she pulled away.

"You really should not call me that," Ororo answered, tears running
freely down her mahogany cheeks and utterly ruining the effect of her
stern tone of voice.

"What's this, Stormy?" he asked, ignoring the warning, as always,
before trailing a thumb over a tear-stained cheek. "You shouldn't be
crying, cherie."

"You disappeared. You didn't even say goodbye. Logan said…"

But he interrupted her. "Don't listen to a thing Wolverine says. I'm
fine. I don't need help, Stormy. Just gonna leave for a little while,
me. Gotta take care of something."

Ororo stared at him, not wanting to comprehend his words, but unable
to run from the reality of it. He wasn't back. He was going to leave
again. The rain, which had let up somewhat outside, turned into a
downpour once more, making the glass walls protest under the
onslaught. "When will you return?" she asked, trying to make her
voice sound calm as always, even if what she felt was far from it.

"Don't know, me. Not for a while," but she heard the unspoken words
well enough. He didn't mean to come back at all and she couldn't help
as the wind rattled the windows harder, or as the twinkling melody of
the rain became an insistent droning. She was going to lose her
brother again.

Like magic, a white rose appeared from beneath his sodden trench,
before he trailed it over her tear-streaked cheeks, watching the pure
white petals contrast with the dark skin in much the way that her
hair did. He pressed it against her nose, teasingly, before stepping
away from her to present it to her with a bow and a flourish. "For
you my lady."

Ororo smiled softly at him, before accepting it, the thin stem
feeling almost fragile between her fingertips, much like the hope
that he would return again, when she knew he did not intend to. White
roses were her favourite, a symbol of love and purity, but with the
warning that such things can also scathe you in the silent promise of
sharp thorns. She noticed the small square envelope attached to the
stem and looked up at him, curiously.

"Couldn't leave you, Stormy. Not you… not without saying goodbye." He
gave her a small smile, before continuing. "If you need me you can
find the means to find me in there. J'taime, cherie," he said softly,
before placing a chaste kiss upon her lips and disappearing into the
storm, the lock of the door clicking open between quick and agile
fingers. Lightning flashed to reveal a dark silhouette pulling a
trench closer around himself and then nothing. He was gone.

Ororo stood staring out of the glass walls as the rain continued to
attack the greenhouse; shedding the tears she would not. She glanced
down at the card again, before tearing it open, aghast to see the
evidence of her shattering calm mask in shaking fingers. She read the
address and the name, before glancing around the greenhouse, her eyes
lost.

She couldn't… Slowly she moved towards the com-system that was
installed all over the Mansion, the lost look in her eyes becoming
one of determination. Within seconds, her choice had been made. Her
brother had to come home. She wondered if he realized he had been
leaking emotions.

His shields must have been in a truly awful state. She'd felt
everything, his fear, coupled with her own. His determination to
leave, coupled with hers to bring him home. His love; she'd felt that
too and there was no doubt in her mind that he cared deeply about her
and that he was certain what he was doing was for the best.

But she wouldn't simply let him go, not when he so desperately needed
the help that he was refusing.

She fumbled with the buttons on the machine, disgusted with the
inefficiency of her trembling hands as she plotted out the familiar
sequence. She'd done this so many times in the last few days. Why
would this time be so different? This was for the best, after all.

"Yeah." a gruff voice on the other side of the connection said.

"Logan?"
 

TBC