Step Back From That Ledge

 Gambit snuggled under the pillow in an attempt to block out the evil sunlight.
"Logan," Scott snapped from somewhere by his right shoulder. Logan chuckled and
the mattress shifted. The curtains were drawn shut and the sunlight dimmed.
 "Better?"
 "Yes. You know the sun makes me cranky."
 "I'd noticed. Wake up, Gumbo. Time fer food." Remy muttered something into the
mattress. Jean snickered. "What was that?"
 "He said 'die, alien scum.'"
 "Funny. Sounded more like Bobby with his mouth full." Scott pulled off the
pillow. Gambit's eyes were resolutely closed. "Come on, Sweets." He tugged on a
chunk of hair.
 "Fuckin' mornin' person." Remy cracked one eye and winced. "Can' y' afford
blinds?"
 "Don't  need 'em, Darlin'."
 "Light bad."
 "Seconded." Jean raised a fist briefly in support of that and yawned.
 "Time to get up," Scott told them. Remy gestured vaguely in the direction of
his robe.
 "M' shades," he demanded. Logan fished them out of the pile of satin and
passed them over.
 "I thought you only wore those when you were hungover," Scott commented.
 "De light's too strong f' m' eyes in de mornin'. Dey'll adjust a bit later.
If'n y' had blinds…" he trailed off with a sigh. Scott shook his shoulder.
 "I'm not letting you go back to sleep."
 "Cul."
 "Damn. Now I've got to learn French."
 "Called ya and asshole," Logan translated with a grin.
 "Brat." Scott flicked the younger man's ear. Remy pried his eyes open behind
protective shades. He was startled to find Scott and Logan both dressed. Jean
had the decency to be naked. He glared at them and crawled out of the bed.
Logan held his robe out for him. Remy slipped it on. He looked around for his
pajamas. He found instead a neat stack of clothes.
 "A valet? Pour moi? Tres bon. Merci." Logan shook his head.
 "Don't get used to it." Remy took the stack to the bathroom.
 "So what scheme are you two hatching?" Jean asked.
 "Just politics." Scott waved a hand. "Nothing dangerous. More of an
intellectual pursuit."
 "Liar," Jean accused.
 "So maybe I hope it will be more, but I'm not betting on the outcome." Logan
shook his head.
 "Ya know, Jeannie, I think we just found the downside to this arrangement.
Scott's tactics, Remy's deviousness. We're toast."
 "Hey," Scott protested. "I'm merely channeling out powers for good."
 "Right, cher," Remy said from the doorway. "As if dey're gonna believe dat."
 "It all depends on how you define good," Scott responded stubbornly.
 "I'm guessin' y'r de one dat raided m' room." Scott grinned.
 "How'd you guess?"
 "Because y' de only one dat'd pull out m' leather." Remy said, looking over
the top of his sunglasses.
 "Fits better'n yer jeans," Logan defended the choice. "Besides, they're the
only thing he knew fer sure the color of." Remy's brows drew down.
 "I see in reds, Remy." Gambit was confused. "I just matched your shirt to your
eyes."
 "Oh. But I dought dat y'r eyes adjust t' filters."
 "The brain damage affected the visual cortex. I see in red, like my powers."
 "Brain damage?" Remy asked.
 "I thought everyone knew about that. When I was a kid, I got pushed out of a
plane. When I hit the ground, I hit my head and ended up in a coma. There was
not apparent damage except memory when I woke up. I started getting headaches.
The quartz eased them." He shrugged. "It's the only thing that controls the
beams." Scott shrugged.
 "Knew about de quartz, but not de damage. I dought it was another Xavier
moment. Y' know, like tellin' Rouge her powers are uncontrollable. Or teachin'
Stormy t' shut off her emotions instead of her powers." The three stared at
him. "What? Roguie could modify a collar int' a necklace t' be able t' touch.
An' Stormy should be able t' control de effects she's got on de weat'er rather
dan her emotions. I figured dat at least de connard let y' have de visor t'
save on property damage."
 "I didn't realize you were so… critical of the professor," Jean commented. "I
know you don't like him, but I thought you'd at least bond over Star Trek or
something."
 "He likes Picard," Gambit informed her. "Remy, he likes de original, one and
only, Kirk. Y'r professor is driven. He an' Mags go head t' head because dey
bot' believe dey're right. De man ain't all dat different from Sinister.
Straight ahead. My way's de only way. Damn, de consequences because I’m right."
Gambit gestured with a sneer. "Dey're users. All t'ree of dem. Dey use whoever
dey get t' believe in dem or trust dem, an' don' care who gets hurt."
 Jean pressed against his shields and found them harder than before. They
reflected back more of her energy. He looked chagrinned. "Je suis desole,
chers. Didn' mean t' go off on y'. Better dat I yell at him f' makin Betsy try
t' force her way in or somet'in'."
 "What?" Scott and Logan chorused as Jean went to get ready. She already had
Betsy side of that story.
 "I was in a coma a few weeks back, oui?"
 "I vaguely recall the incident," Scott said sitting down on the bed and
patting for Remy to join him as Logan took the other side. Remy opted for the
foot of the bed so he could look them in the eye.
 "Well, Charles asked Betsy t' scan m'. Wanted t' know m' secrets. De shield
held, but it's weaker where she hit it now. Shut her out. Had t' up security
around dat area." His eyes were focused on a point between their heads. "He
can't get t'rough m' shields at all. He dought a femme'd have a better chance
at it." Remy shrugged. "What's on de plan books, Cyke?"
 "We figure out what we're going to say at the briefing tomorrow."
 "How about, none of y' business, mes amis?"
 "Well, it's short, but it lacks certain detail points," Scott assessed.
 "Ain't no one else ever discussed sleepin' arrangements before. And y' know
dat suddenly tellin' dem about m' history ain't gonna go over well."
 "They'll get over it. Especially if you do the tearful confession bit and let
Jean give them snapshots of your past."
 "Non!" Remy's eyes flared brightly enough that they could be seen through the
dark glasses. Scott put out a hand.
 "Come here." Remy crawled up the bed and settled between the two older men.
"Who are you worried about?"
 "Mon petite Stormy's gonna hate m'," Remy said softly. "And Ange is gonna have
reason f' hatin' m' now." Scott bit back a comment on Warren's reactions to
people. He settled a comforting arm around Remy's silk clad shoulders. Logan's
arm wrapped around the younger man's waist.
 "Storm should probably be told privately. Warren will just have to suck it up."
 "His wings…"
 "Aren't your fault. They were crushed and then amputated. But you aren't
Harpooner."
 "But dey… Merde. Gambit done hired dem. Dey were m' team. Dat's what makes m'
responsible." Jean sat at the foot of the bed.
 "And you still feel their victims' pain," she stated. "You still hear their
screams. You have to let them rest. Then you'll be able to think clearly about
things."
 "But I *can't*, Jean. If I forget dem, den who's t' remember?"
 "The X-men remember. Storm remembers. A little girl named Sarah remembers. You
don't have to bleed for them."
 "I should. If I hadn'…"
 "Trusted your boss?" Scott interrupted. "At least I know why you question me."
He squeezed gently.
 "I should've…"
 "Known? You aren't a 'path, Honey," Jean told him. "How was that mission
different from any other one?"
 "Besides genocide?" Remy asked icily.
 "Yes. Besides that."
 "Was de first time wit'out m' full powers. De first time Chatton's claws hurt.
First time 'Hunter yelled at m'. First time it weren't a quiet raid f'
information or a kidnappin'." Remy's voice grew steadily colder until Scott
expected icicles to form on the windows. The shoulders under his arm grew
stiffer and straighter with every word.
 Jean removed Remy's glasses. She stared into his demon-child eyes without
flinching. "It was *not* your fault. Creed nearly killed you when you tried to
stop them." Remy could taste her angers, hot and bright against her sincerity.
"You cannot take the blame for this. I want to show them your memories," she
informed him. "Just like I showed Scott."
 "Non."
 "Oui," she snapped back. "This is important, Remy. If this stays a secret
someone is going to use to use it against us. Maybe even Sinister himself. I am
not going to let that happen." Remy flinched away from her anger, not bothering
to hide the reaction. "Consider it a good-will present." There was a long
silence, then Gambit slightly inclined his head.
 "After I tell Stormy."
 "Agreed."

 Jean surveyed the kitchen in dismay. It was obvious that no one had been
shopping in weeks. She cursed silently. //Logan, we're going grocery shopping.//
 //Why me?// Logan practically whined.
 //Because I said so.// Logan looked longingly at the television.
 "Damn," he muttered and hauled himself to his feet. "Women," he commented with
a shrug at Warren's questioning look. He tossed the remote to him and stalked
out.
 "Yippee!" Bobby said wrestling the remote away from Angel and flopped down on
the couch.

 Storm smiled at Remy. He was dressed up for a Saturday. "Petite, y' got plans
f' lunch?"
 "No, Remy."
 "Y' come wit' m' den?" he asked hopefully.
 "Of course." She assessed her outfit against her brother's and judged it
appropriate. She blinked when he opened the door of the Corvette for her.
Normally, they rode his motorcycle. She waited until they were on the road to
ask, "What is the special occasion?"
 "We need t' talk, Ro," he told her seriously. He shifted gears, the bell on
his wrist chiming incongruously. "We need t' talk."

 //What *are* you working on, Scott?// Xavier asked.
 //Propaganda,// Scott replied.
 //You know I don't approve of manipulating people.// Scott's immediate snort
of disbelief was answered by Professor X's disapproving frown.
 //I'll run the final drafts past you as soon as Kitty mocks them up.//
 //You're bringing Kitty into this waste of resources?//
 //Well, it won't be *your* money that will be funding us then,// he said
thoughtfully. He was already listing alternate sources of income in his head.
//That also means I won't have to waste your time with those mock-ups,// he
told the older man cheerfully. //That worked out well, didn't it?//
 //----// Xavier couldn't think up a good response and cut off the contact.
Scott grinned and turned up his "work mix" CD.

 Logan grumbled as they worked their way through the discount club. Jean glared
at him, hands on her hips. "Yes, Darlin'?" he said sweetly.
 "Don't 'Darling' me, Logan. Stop griping or else." He raised a brow.
 "That could be interestin'," he leered. She looked down her nose at him, a
smile twitching at her lips.
 "Just get the paper towels down," she gestured at the pile. He blinked at her,
pushing his hat back on his head to see her more clearly. He rolled crystal
blue eyes and yanked down a flat of paper towels. "And TP." He grabbed the
toilet paper and added it to the cart.
 "Good thing we brought the van," he stated.
 "I always plan ahead. That's why the seats are out of it." She checked her
list. "Meats and frozen foods next."
 "Great," he said. She led the way past a snickering couple. Logan glared at
them, but shrugged. "Redheads," he stated. That set the newlyweds off. He
grinned as Jean looked back, fire crackling in her eyes.

 Storm frowned as Remy played with his food. The booth was comfortably
protected in the back of the restaurant. High backs muffled the conversations.
"What is the matter, brother? I am not upset about your new relationship," she
told him, putting her hand over his and squeezing. "Or even upset that you
haven't told me yet. I know it is hard for you to accept new lovers."
 "Non, dat ain' it, Stormy."
 "Don't call me that," she teased gently.
 "Sorry, Ororo." She stared starting to get a twist in her gut that indicated
there was something going wrong.
 "Remy, what is wrong?" She squeezed his hand again and he gave her a wan smile.
 "Y' know I don' talk 'bout m' past much, 'tite."
 "I know that." She was confused. He gently disengaged his hand and took a sip
of red wine. He pushed his sunglasses up to expose his eyes. She was surprised.
He never did that in public.
 "I need t' tell y' somet'in'. And I need y' t' hear m' out. Den y' ask
questions, oui?"
 "Of course." He nodded and dropped his shades back onto his head.
 "Y' know I ain't always de smartest," he said ruefully. "Act before I dink,
me. Y' know I ain't afraid of much. But I'm afraid t' tell y' dis. I'm afraid
of m' Stormy hatin' m'."
 "Remy?" She reached out to comfort him, but he shook his head.
 "Let m' talk, D'Accord?" She nodded.
 "I used t' work f' Sinister," he said bluntly and she gasped, horror in her
eyes. "He saved m' life, 'tite, and I owed him f' dat. Part of dat payment was
t' assemble a team of mercs f' him. De Marauders." She bit her tongue to keep
from speaking. "And de last mission he sent ole Remy on, it wasn' what I dought
it was. He said he wanted t' get samples from some mutants livin' underground."
Ororo trembled. She forced herself to stay calm. "Seems he told de ot'ers
different from Gambit," he whispered. "When he led dem in, people started
dyin'. Tried t' stop dem, Ro. I did. But dey be too strong." A single tear
tracked down his cheek. "All dose people died because Gambit led does monsters
int' de Morlock Tunnels." Thunder echoed through the skies and Remy dropped his
head into his hands. His pasta lay abandoned. He couldn't look up at his best
friend. He felt the sorrow and the anger and the fear and betrayal and guilt.
They pounded into his gut like Sabretooth's fists. He wanted to cry or throw up
or scream, but he didn't. He let her emotions wash over him and did nothing but
wait.
 "Why, Remy?" she whispered. "Why?"
 "Why what, 'tite?" he asked in a low voice.
 "Why did you owe him?"
 "M' powers went haywire and nearly killt m'. He saved m' life. An' he wanted a
team. I made him a team. Trained wit' dem, got dem workin' t'get'er and turned
it over t' Crow, uh, Scalphunter. And he asked m' t' get dem past de security.
I did dat. I didn' know dey were gonna kill dem, chere."
 "Your powers?" she said sadly. Remy shrugged, helpless to explain further
right then. The storm outside whipped through the trees and darkened the sky
into night. And the Goddess wept.

 Scott looked up at the first peal of thunder. He closed his eyes. So Remy had
told her. He just hoped they'd get home in one piece.

 Jean looked up at the darkened sky. She looked around. The parking lot was
deserted. When did everyone leave? She wondered. She looked around again.
Something wasn't right. Logan stiffened next to her, straining to pick up an
elusive scent. He spun just as the hands clamped around his throat with a
collar. He didn't see Jean struggling in Arclight's grip. He growled as the
sedative took effect.

 Professor Charles Xavier sat straight up with a cry on his lips. //Jean!// he
called out. There was no reply. //X-men scramble!// he broadcast.

 Storm's head tilted. "We must go, brother. We will deal with this later." Remy
dropped a fifty on the table and led her out. It always paid to tip well. That
way the waiters remembered to forget him. He jammed the car into gear as Storm
fastened her seatbelt. She reached over to do his. He felt her worry.
 "Le Professeur?" he questioned.
 "All alert scramble. There's an emergency." Remy skidded around a corner,
thankful that the rain and gusts avoided their car. It was always best to have
Ororo close in the middle of an emotional storm. The car screeched to a halt
and they ran into the war room. With a practiced eye, Gambit noticed who
*wasn't* there.
 "Merde," he muttered softly. "Why now?" Scott was looking pale. His lips were
compressed with fury however and Gambit pitied the idiot who'd been stupid
enough to hurt the man's wife *and* his man.
 "Good. Let's begin," Xavier stated. "No more than fifteen minutes ago, Jean
cried out to me. I do not know what exactly happened, but I can no longer find
her or Wolverine." Scott's jaw twitched. "I have scanned the area around their
last known location. There is no trace of them there. Cerebro recorded a
disturbance at the same time Jean's cry went out. There was tesseract activity."
 "Sinister," Scott growled. Xavier nodded. "I assume their coms have also been
put off-line?"
 "Yes."
 "At least we know he won't kill Jean immediately," Scott stated. "That gives
us a little leeway. Iceman, Angel, Beast, I want you to check their last
location. And bring home the groceries," he added. "Take the spare keys to the
van. Look for any traces of which Marauders he sent. We can be fairly sure that
it wasn't Sabretooth or we would have had more notice."
 "More likely Arclight and Scalphunter," Remy stated, softly. Scott glanced at
him and cocked his head to the side. Gambit gave him a small shake of the head.
No one seemed to think it was strange. Gambit was one of their "underground"
sources after all.
 "I don't know what he wants with Wolverine. I don't know if he's expendable in
the bastard's view or not." Cyclops ruthlessly squashed his emotions. "We have
to assume he's either sedated or dead." Xavier frowned, but didn't contradict
the assertion. Cyclops stood and began to pace. "Iceman, Angel, Beast, go.
We'll be waiting for your results. Psylocke, I want you to monitor Cerebro for
any further tesseract activity. Professor, would you continue to scan for
them?" Xavier inclined his head. "Gambit, Storm, go over the files. Find any
past locations where Sinister has been active. We'll focus there first. Bishop,
with me for mission prep."

 The team scattered to their assigned tasks. Gambit and Storm barely spoke as
they went through the files. They were sitting in Scott's office with reports
scattered around them. "Does he know?" Storm asked quietly.
 "Oui. Learned about it a day or so ago. Logan made me tell Jean, who told
Scott." Remy grimaced. "Den, Scott, he decided dat we got t' tell everyone, but
I dought it best t' tell y' first. Roguie might know now, if'n she went t'rough
m' memories."
 "And you have written up a list of Sinister's bases for Scott."
 "It's here. Need t' see where de recent activity is dough. Need t' see which
base he be usin'. Dis was a snatch and grab, petite. I dink we get dem back."
He found himself playing with the bell and forced his hands back to the papers.
"I dink Essex got a plan f' dem," he said more to himself than Storm. Ororo
watched her brother carefully.
 "You would rather be with Cyclops at this moment." Gambit snorted.
 "Non, cher. Dat's de last place f' m' now. Dat wouldn' be a good move. People
start askin' too many questions dat we can' answer yet. Ain' dat many people
dat register dat dey be a trio. Let alone t'rowin' ole Remy int' de mix. Non,
best t' keep dings normal f' de moment. T'night, if dere ain' no word, den I go
t' Cyke. Make him relax. Right now, he's de Fearless Leader, not Scott.
T'night, he break down." Gambit shrugged. "Y' got de last mont' records dere?
And why ain' we checkin' wit' dat damn computer?"
 "Because Betsy is currently using it to do sweeps of the countryside."
 "Must be losin' m' edge, padnat." Gambit shook his head. "F'got dat."
 "Considering you were in a coma less than a month ago, that Psylocke didn't
think you would awaken from, I believe you are doing well." The storm was
lessening outside. There was still anger and grief to be dealt with, but for
the moment, there was something more important. "Have you found the last time
that Jean was kidnapped?"
 "Oui, it's here. But she weren't alone den. Took de whole team, chere. Even
y'."
 "Oh, that one," Ororo looked chagrined. "We got out of that by turning one of
his people against him."
 "Not hard," Remy snorted. Storm's lip twitched. "He ain't never had de girl
alone. And accordin' t' dis report he ain't never run tests on her. But dat
can' be right. Weren't Cable's mama a clone of Jeannie?"
 Storm shrugged. "Perhaps he took samples we were unaware of."

 "Sir?" Bishop asked in concern as Cyclops glared at the Blackbird's computer.
 "I can not believe this is happening. I'm going to kill Drake. I'm going to
throw him throw my office window into the back yard and drown him in the lake."
 "What's wrong?"
"He forgot to do the fucking re-supply checklist last time we landed. What the
fuck am I supposed to do when no one does their god damned chores?"
 "Discipline them?" Bishop suggested.
 "Can I borrow your gun for that?" The large man's lips twitched into a smile.
 "Of course, Cyclops. However, I think the recoil might be a bit too strong to
handle without practice."
 Cyclops considered this argument as he started running down the checklist. "Oh
well, I'll just have to get Gambit's gun out of his nightstand."
 "The 9mm or the 45?"
 "Oh, the 45 has so much more presence."

 "Okay, Hank, what exactly is that thing?"
 "A scanner. I'm looking for evidence of a struggle."
 "There was no struggle. Jean would have called for help," Warren contradicted.
"What did she do? Buy out the place? Drake, get over here and freeze the frozen
foods again."
 Bobby stuck his tongue out. "I'm not a cooler."
 "You are if I say you are," Warren said mildly.
 "If I remember correctly, Slim named *me* first, which I think means I'm in
charge here."
 "Robert," Hank said with a sigh. "If the ice cream melts, it will destroy the
Twinkies' box."
 "Good enough for me. Frozen foods container coming up. Can we get moving now?"
 Hank nodded sadly. "There's nothing here for us to find. They even took her
purse."
 "Hey, isn't that Logan's hat?" Warren asked pointing to a battered cowboy hat
that had been half-sucked into the gutter. He went after it. Hank assessed that
it was indeed their Canadian compatriot's hat and that he would be most
appreciative of having it in waiting for him upon his return. Bobby had taken
the hat reverently and pulled the moisture from it for use in protecting the
food stuffs on the way home.

 Eventually, they had to pull back. The professor and Betsy set up two hour
shifts to scan for Jean's presence on the astral. Scott set up a security
rotation to watch Cerebro. Storm made a light dinner for them all, but no one
had much of an appetite. Xavier urged Scott to go to bed, but it didn't work.
Scott settled in the den, unable to sleep. He couldn’t think of anything except
Jean having to deal with Sinister alone. He couldn't feel her in his head and
the lack of her was beginning to scare him. He was staring at a silent
television when he felt an arm around his shoulders. He leaned into the
embrace, not caring who it was. The soft cotton wool brush against his shields
told him more than any words could have. "Hey, Rem."
 "Hey, cher," Gambit responded softly. He rubbed Scott shoulder gently. "Y'
need t' get some rest y' know. Y' ain' gonna do dem any good stayin' up."
 "I can't sleep." Remy smiled sadly. He gave the older man's a squeeze. He
stood and pulled Scott to his feet.
 "Come on." He led him up the stairs with an insistent pressure on his wrist.
Scott looked around Remy's room as if he hadn't just seen it earlier. Remy
shook his head and sat Scott down on the bed. "Stay. Good, Cyke." He went
downstairs in search of something stronger than the beer in the kitchen. That
meant, of course, that he was poking around in Xavier's personal stash when the
professor came into his office.
 "Gambit?" he questioned carefully.
 "Y' want y'r scotch while I'm in here?" Gambit asked without shame.
 "No thank you. I need to remain clear-headed. Scott doesn't drink, Gambit."
 "Non, but Remy does," Gambit snapped. He took the whiskey and two glasses from
the professor's stash and returned to his room, Xavier staring after him.

 Scott was playing with a small top he'd found on the thief's desk. It
glittered in the light as it spun, the small mirrors that lined it twinkling.
He looked up and saw Remy's indulgent smile. "Fun, non?"
 "Yeah. Looks like something Bobby'd have though."
 "I *like* shiny dings," Remy stated with a grin. "It was an impulse, non?
Dought it shined nice. M' good luck charm. Don' work most of de time," he
added. "Drink?"
 "Oh yeah. Hand it over, Cajun." Scott took a gulp of the burning liquid.
"Charles is going to go livid about this," he said gesturing at the bottle.
 "He knows."
 "Duh."
 "Y' spend too much time 'round Jubes."
 "Pot, kettle, kid."
 "An' just why y' get away wit' callin' po' Remy 'kid'?"
 "Because I've got eight years, plus fourteen in the future on you, Kid."
 "An' dat don' bother y' none?" Remy asked suddenly.
 "Nope. My other boyfriend's over eighty." Scott shrugged. Then, he gulped more
of the whiskey. "Do you think he'll give them back?" Scott asked, looking down
at the liquid in his glass.
 "Oui. I do. I don't know what sort of shape he give dem back in dough," Remy
whispered. "Better t' get dem out. He gonna mind-wipe dem. We ain't gonna know
what he done t' dem, less we get dem out now." Remy toed off his shoes and
folded his legs up onto the bed. Scott took a deep breath.
 "That list you gave me…?"
 "Complete as I can make it, cher. Don' know which bases he's usin' know. De
one in Seattle ain't exactly in de best condition," Remy said blushing. "We had
a fight dere."
 "Oh, I have to hear the whole story on this one." Scott settled on the bed.
There was something truly disturbing about hearing his lover talk about
Sinister plainly. Remy rolled his eyes.
 "Well, after he got m' mostly back in order, 'cept f' m' leg was still
healin', Remy started doin' dings dat le docteur, he don' like. I was
stretchin' t' keep de scars limber. And I was pushin' m' PT a bit too far in
his opinion. Well, turns out dat Genoshan collars don' stop Omega class powers.
We were havin' a screamin' fight about what Remy should or should not do while
he was healin'. Nearly nose t' nose we were. An' de collar shorted out from
havin' too much power in it. Blew out half de man's machinery in dat hall. De
only reason I didn' bring de place down around our ears is because it were made
of adamantium. Stuff don't take charge dat easy. Too stable. Nat'aniel, he gave
m' de same long sufferin' look Charles gets when y' start talkin' about mebbe
makin' dis place a real school." Scott snickered. He brought the subject up
precisely because it got that reaction from the professor. "So, he looks down
his nose at Remy, non? He says, an' dis is a direct quote, cher, 'That is quite
enough of that, young man. I think LeBeau didn't turn you over his knee quite
often enough. This discussion is closed. The remainder of your bed-rest will
include recreating the data you have just destroyed.'" Remy gave Scott a
conspiratorial grin. "Lucky for Remy dat copyin' all of de man's files was de
first ding he did every mornin', non?"
 Scott's jaw dropped. "You stole his data?"
 "An' sold it t' half de worl', cher." Gambit looked quite pleased with
himself. "Not all of it, course. Didn' let no one have all de research. But
enough t' get dem in de right directions f' curin' cancer an' all."
 "The bad news is?" Scott queried.
 Remy frowned. "Lost all m' stuff when I ran from de tunnels. Had t' replace
most of m' tools on top of it. Cost m' about two mill t' replace what dat
bastard made m' lose."
 "Ah." Scott nodded.
 "Come on, cher. Let's get y' int' de shower."
 "But…"
 "Y' dink somet'in' goin' t' change in ten minutes?" Scott sighed.
 "It might."
 "Den y' go t' fight wit' wet hair." Scott hesitated before putting his glass
down on the desk. Remy took it from him and set it on the tray on his dresser.
He tugged Scott to his feet. He pulled at the older man's clothes until he was
striped bare.
 There was nothing but comfort in the gentle kiss Gambit pressed to Scott's
lips. "Y' go arrange dings f' y'self. Remy get y' somet'in' t' change int' and
y'r uniform just in case." Scott gave him a half smile.
 "You'll be back soon, right?"
 "Oui, cher. I won' leave y' alone t'night." He squeezed Scott's hand and left
the bedroom.