Chapter 11

"Bobby - dis de kind of t'ing your looking for,
homme."  Remy circled a portion of the FOH accounting
spreadsheet and handed it over to the young mutant.
"See - dey moving money back and forth from de
president's personal account into de business account
to keep de courts from taking de money."

"That's illegal."  Bobby was chewing thoughtfully on
his red pencil, the blue light from the oversize
monitor stole what color he had from his skin and
reminded Remy of the teenager's frozen alter ego.  The
thief shivered, sitting close to Bobby, he could feel
the chill radiating from his skin.

"Non - not dis way.  But it's obstructing de law when
it keeps de FOH from paying der fines."  Remy leaned
back, away from the monitor that was shedding rainbow
static, even through his dark glasses, and stretched.
The two of them had been at the FOH records, off and
on, for weeks.  It was Bobby's graduation project.
Remy smiled slightly.  The youngster was no great
shakes as a fighter but, like the accountants that had
finally reined in Capone, Bobby might be the key to
taking the FOH down a notch or two.

"Accounting irregularities -"  Remy shook his head.
"Dis a really smart move, Icy. W'at you gonna do w'it
it when you got it done?"

Bobby grinned.  "Remember when I went to that summer
college retreat?  I met the daughter of the reporter
who the FOH beat up.  It's why I wanted to do this -
I'm going to send it all to their lawyer.  Do you
think I'll have to testify?  Am I gonna have to go to
court?"

Remy met the startling blue eyes and smiled at Bobby's
anxiety.  "Non.  Not likely.  Dey just fine dem more
and mebbe de courts freeze de accounts, he?  Dat be a
t'ing to see."

He watched Bobby's eyes widen slightly under the brush
of his charm and nodded to himself in satisfaction as
the teenager relaxed.  Bobby was easy to influence.
He stood up and stretched, pulling out a cigarette and
lighting up.  This was the only kind of education he
was good at.  One on one, not a classroom full of kids
looking for role models.  Remy knew he was no kind of
example he wanted anyone to follow.  "Go at it den,
Icy and impress your cherie."

"She's not -!"  Bobby lowered his voice and glared up
at the long limbed thief.

"Dey all bon, de femmes, Icy."  Remy swaggered out the
door.  "All de femmes."

Logan was heading up the dim hallway as Remy left
Bobby's room.  "Wheels wants t'see you."

"D'Accord."  Remy said lightly; he didn't slow down
and glanced somewhere past Logan's left shoulder
rather than meet those hostile, troubled eyes.  The
thief hunched his shoulders, grimacing uncomfortably
at the feel of Logan's eyes on him as he trotted
silently down the stairs. That's the way it was now.
The Canadian was silent and surly, even with Marie.
Remy could feel the strain in the air; between Scott
and Logan, himself and Logan and something new and
painful between Jean and Scott.  The kids felt it too,
and they'd chosen their scapegoat.  Paul.

The boy would sneak into Remy's room, late at night,
and the two of them would cling to each other -
desperate for some friendly touch.  So far, they'd
kept their clothes on and hadn't done anything that
couldn't be shown on prime time.  Mostly, he and Paul
would simply sleep together or talk late into the
night.  Paul would tell him what that first rush of
smack felt like when it hit your blood and Remy talked
about the fever warm rain of New Orleans and the taste
of real gumbo.  They didn't talk about the Academy or
the mansion or anyone in it.

He'd listen to Paul's heart beat, with that distinct
little echo that was maybe a heart murmur, as he
curled around the kid.  Paul would settle close with a
long sigh, warm in Remy's arms and all those angles
and curves would just fit right against him.  Paul
never said a word but he didn't have to, Remy felt how
desperately Paul longed for shelter and protection.
Remy shook his head, nibbling on his smoke in mild
frustration.  The boy ached for affection, protection
and when he had it - he pushed it away with both
hands.

Remy knew Paul was going to abandon them.  He could
feel it like the slow fall of the tide - as the
weather slowly warmed, Paul drew farther away.  Maybe
they'd leave together.

The thief paused in the stairwell, staring blindly out
the window at the Spring rain.  It looked like Paul
wasn't the only one thinking of leaving.  Maybe it was
time for Remy to make plans as well.  Remy glanced up,
aware he was being watched, to see Logan leaning on
the balustrade and looking down at him.

"W'at you looking at?"  Remy snapped.

"Nothin'."  Logan said then turned and left.

"Merde."  Remy muttered, taking a hard drag at his
smoke, soothed by the nicotine.  There was another one
just waiting to leave, the thief didn't know why Logan
hadn't already gone.  The Canadian was usually the
first to retreat from emotional battlefields.

Remy was waiting for the team to turn on him.  With
all the strain, it was natural to look for a
scapegoat.  He was the newest, the strangest.  A
thief, a criminal, a murderer and - most important -
the one Logan had turned on.  Scott was the leader but
Logan was the glue that held the team together.  And
right now, the team was falling apart.

The thief wandered down to the professor's office,
wondering if now was the time.  Was he going to be
invited elsewhere?  He rubbed his hand over his face
and adjusted his glasses, setting himself for
rejection.  At least it was private, this time.  He'd
been driven out of New Orleans by the Assassin's Guild
throwing stones.  Nasty little ritual.  The thief
rubbed his arm in memory, he still carried scars.

"Professeur?"  Remy stuck his head around the door.
The professor was drinking a cup of tea and staring
out at the rain.  He glanced up at the tall thief,
smiled  and nodded to a chair.

"I can see the daffodils coming up."  Xavier said.
"Tea?"

"Oui."  Remy stretched out and lit another gitane from
the stub of his old one.  He took the offered cup and
breathed in the steam.  His eyes followed the pink
specks of energy for a moment.  His eyes were getting
bad, it was time to work some of the energy out of his
system down in the danger room.  "Logan tol' Remy you
want to see him."

"Yes.  I'd like to talk  to you about the situation
here."

Remy tipped his head curiously.  "Situation?"

Charles sighed.  "There's always tension among us,
especially during the winter when we can't get away
from each other.  Everyone, Scott, Jean, myself,
Ororo, you - we are all strong personalities and we do
clash on occasion.  This time - an unfortunate
collision of events had made that tension much worse.
You're the newest addition to our family and I'd like
to talk to you about it."

"Family."  Remy said warily.  "Dis - not my family."

"It can be."  The old telepath stared steadily at him,
gray eyes gentle and unyielding.  "If you choose so."

"Remy already has family!  Not give dem up!"

The professor laced his fingers in his lap and stared
at them.  "I have never believed that the heart is
limited in size.  You don't have to lose your family
in New Orleans to gain family here."

"Not my decision, professeur and de rest already made
der choice."  Remy cursed the bitterness in his voice
and took a sip of tea, welcoming the scalding heat on
his tongue.  "Dey don't want Remy around."

The old man's lips tightened briefly.  "If you sit
like a lump on a log, we are going to assume you don't
care.  This - family - values a certain amount of
stubbornness."

Remy looked out at the cold rain.  That flowers would
grow in this cold was a miracle to him.  Proof of
god's love, old Mattie would say.  He snorted.  "You
t'ink dis a family? Logan and Scooter?  Jean and de
rest?  De children?"

"We have built a family, all of us."  Xavier leaned
forward.  "A family of choice is a family just the
same and like any family we are not perfect.  We've
all been through a great deal, it's not easy for any
of us to accept ourselves - and the reflection
ourselves in each others eyes.  I don't want to lose
you.  Or Logan or Paul."

Remy glanced at him.  "Don't t'ink you got much
choice, professeur.  De Wolverine out for Remy's
blood.  De boy - he don't know w'at family means."

"Well, he's learning from us, is he not?"  Charles
said lightly.  "And you, more than the rest of us, are
teaching him."

"An' Logan."

The professor frowned.

"Oui!"  Remy bust out.  "No one w'ant to look,
professuer, no one w'ants to see.  De reflection you
all see is - perversion - but Paul don care what you
t'ink.  And not looking at w'ats der is why de boy
don't care!  He - looks at Logan and he looks at de
rest of us and he sees w'at family mean.  Dat you
drive Logan out because of him and w'at he wants.  He
knows he can't be what he is here - dats why he
leave."

"And you?"

Remy turned his face away and wondered, angrily, if
the professor was reading his mind.  All he had was
the professor's word that he couldn't read his
thoughts, after all.

"You can't be - have - what you want either, can you?"

"Dat not you're business, professuer!"

"I - think of you as my family, Remy.  And Logan.  I
care."

"Der's nothing you can do to change de man."  Remy
said softly.  "You know dat.  De Wolverine - he's one
screwed up homme."

"Yes."  The professor rolled closer and touched Remy's
knee.  The thief jerked away but not before he was
flooded with the professor's sincerity and concern.
Startling concern - not just an interest in preserving
the X-men, or a peaceful household.  Real caring, for
him.

Remy blinked and swallowed hard.  "You learning how to
use de empathy to your advantage real quick,
professeur."

Charles smiled.  "I'd better, to stay ahead of you and
Paul."

"Why you w'ant Remy to stay?  Just going to make
t'ings worse.  Logan so - angry wid me."

"He's staying."

"Quoi?"

"He's staying.  Scott asked him to."  Xavier
straightened the seam in his pants and smiled wryly.
"I don't think he knows what to do yet, but he's
staying anyway.  Because he wants to be a part of -
our family.  Dysfunctional as it is."

"All de more reason for Remy to go."  The thief
shifted restlessly, wondering why Logan was choosing
to stay.  It had to be for Scott's sake - it made
sense.  The two of them were close friends and had a
lot of water under the bridge.  The man didn't want
anything more to do with Remy, he'd made that clear.
"Not to make t'ings worse."

"Simply altering who runs away isn't useful to anyone.
 He's willing to work.  Are you?"

Remy frowned and pulled smoke into his lungs, closing
his eyes at the soothing scratch.  "W'at you want?
Remy not going to chase after de homme like Rogue wid
a crush!"

"I understand - very well - just how painful this is,
Remy.  And I don't know what the solution is going to
be.  All I can say is that if Logan felt nothing, I
don't believe he'd be acting the way he is.  He and
Scott went through a similar difficult period, when
Logan first arrived here.  Scott managed to stick it
out."

Remy snorted.  "Fearless good at sticking, dat's for
sure.  An - Remy hurting, professuer.  Seeing de homme
- "

The thief bit off the rest, amazed at the way the
professeur inspired confidences.  Even without his
telepathy.  No wonder Xavier drove Paul nuts.

"Unrequited love is - very painful."

"You an old man, w'at you know?"

Charles laughed briefly and Remy winced at the pain he
sensed.  It was an old, familiar pain to the professor
but it hurt no less for that. "I wish I were ignorant.
 Indeed I do."

"Please, Remy, stay."  The professor touched him again
and the plea was honest and urgent.  "I can't discuss
why at this time but we're all going to need you badly
in the next few months.  Please."

Remy glanced out the window again, at the cold rain
and the thought of trying to find a new home didn't
measure up against the professor's - the *family's*
need.  "Remy stay.  For a while.  Dat's all I can
promise, professeur."

"That's all I ask."

*****************************

"This is a stupid game."  Paul said sulkily.

Marie grinned and put down a white piece, flipping an
entire row of his over to her side.  "Didn't say that
when you were winning."

"When was I winning -?"  Paul grumbled and propped his
chin on his fist, studying the board.

They were playing in the library while Bobby did
something or other for his science final project.
Paul was supposed to be doing something school-like
too but he didn't' feel like it.  What were they going
to do anyway?  Kick him out?  There were other kids in
the room but they were leaving him alone for once.
Paul had found out that no one messed with Marie or
Bobby - after all, Marie could kill with a touch and
Bobby was practically an X-man.  That immunity didn't
last outside their presence though.  Paul shifted
uncomfortably and tried to ignore his back.  He had a
rash all over his back and chest - someone had put
something in his clothes he was allergic to.  It was
probably Winnie.  Jubilation and Marco were more of
the catch you in an empty hall and try to beat you up
type.  He was practically bathing in calamine lotion
and he still itched.  But if the brats here thought
that bothered him - Paul put down a piece and took
back half the board.  Marie cursed under her breath.
He'd hurt much worse for less - though usually he got
paid for it.  He smiled to himself.  Maybe he should
start charging for a chance to take a swing at him -
he'd make plenty of money and as long as he could
dodge, they'd never touch him.

"So, is it stupid?"  Marie asked, when Paul had
finished with her.

"I dunno.  Maybe we should try again?"

She laughed and Paul smiled. He stretched and let his
leg brush hers just to feel her lazy good mood more
clearly.  Marie rolled her eyes but didn't move away.

"Voyeur."

"Yep."

Paul turned to the door as Ororo stuck her head in.
She was looking for him with another lecture, he could
tell.

"Paul, may I talk with you?"

"Kay."  Paul glanced at Marie and rolled his eyes.
She shrugged and, sighing, Paul climbed to his feet
and followed the slender woman down to her office.

"It's about your schoolwork, Paul."  She said softly
as he sat in a chair, staring at her houseplants
rather than at her.  The air was full of static.  It
always was, around Ororo.  He didn't' know why.

"Kay."

She launched right into her lecture and Paul tuned her
out, giving her shallow nods and meek agreements when
she wanted them.  She wasn't fooled, getting
increasingly frustrated but Paul really didn't care.
There wasn't anything she could do to him.

"Paul!"  Ororo slammed her hand down on her desk and
he jerked.

"What?"

The woman took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Is there any reason why I should keep on talking to
myself?"

Paul shrugged, secretly pleased to have frustrated the
always calm Ororo.  She rubbed her eyes and rested her
head in her hands.

"Paul, you're excused from classes."

"What?"  He sat up surprised.

She looked at him, mouth set angrily.  "It's a waste
of my time and the other teachers' time to have you in
our classes.  You don't have to come any longer."

He stared for a moment, surprised.  He'd expected some
kind of punishment.  "Uh - 'kay."

The woman nodded at her door, eyes sad.  "That's all,
Paul."

He scrambled out of her office before she changed her
mind.  The hall was quiet, all the kids were at class.
 He leaned against the wall, wondering what he should
do now.

Actually, he got pretty bored.  There was no one to
talk to.  Remy was out, visiting family and everyone
else was either teaching or learning.  He was chased
out of the main kitchens by the cooks.  Paul poked
around in people's rooms, jimmying doors because he
could.  Of course, he didn't hear the classes end and
of course, he'd get cornered by Marco and his two
stupid - but big - friends.

"Been looking for you, Paul."  Marco said softly,
hands clenched.  Paul marked the scars across the
other boy's knuckles and reminded himself that he was
faster.  He could get away.

"Sure you have."  Paul sidled along the wall, trying
to watch all three kids.

"What are you doing out here, looking for something
else to screw up?"  Marco snarled.  "Jerk-off."

Paul grinned.  "You have to have a dick big enough to
grab to jerk off, short stop."

Marco snarled and launched himself at Paul.  His
friends hooted but softly to keep the teachers from
hearing.  Paul dodged aside, still smiling.  He *was*
faster.  The shorter kid couldn't touch him.

"Maybe I should be charging you for training tips."
Paul taunted, hardly breathing hard while Marco was
looking pretty worn out.

"Think so?"  Marco snarled.  He lashed out as if to
grab and Paul jumped aside - then cried out -
collapsing onto the floor as the jolt of blue
electricity leapt from Marco's hand and hit him.  He
tried to roll back to his feet but his muscles were
jumping from the shock and then Marco kicked him in
the stomach.  Paul collapsed back onto the floor with
a groan.

Marco was on him then, one hand tangled in his hair
the other punching clumsily at him.  Paul thrashed,
bucking the other boy off.  He scrambled to his feet,
trying to pull free, eyes watering at the pain, all
Logan's training forgotten.  He didn't hit back.  He
didn't need to feel Marco's pain as well as his own.

"Coward!"  Marco yelled.  The kid got him good in the
mouth and, desperate, Paul finally swung Marco into
the wall.  They both grunted at the impact.

"Shit - !"  They all froze.

"What's going on up there?"  Scott yelled, running up
the stairs.  Paul and Marco stared at each other,
breathing hard.  "Anyone hurt?"

Marco jerked his hand out of Paul's hair just as Scott
came around the corner.  Paul wiped at his split lip.

"What happened?"  Scott snapped.  "Were you fighting?"

"Uh - Mr. S-summers."  Marco stuttered.  He did that
when he was nervous and it was Paul's imitation of
that which pissed him off more than anything else.

"Nope."  Paul interrupted, looking awkward and
embarrassed.  He'd rather get beat up than have any of
the teacher poking their noses in his business.  He
could handle Marco and his cronies.  "Um - I tripped.
My shoelaces - like you said yesterday.  Guess I'd
better tie 'em huh?"

"Why was Marco yelling then?"  Scott said
suspiciously.

"Sorry."  Marco muttered, glancing - rather
desperately - at Paul.  He didn't even know how to
follow up Paul's lie.  What a loser.

"He was laughing at me."  Paul said, putting just the
right tone of sulky frustration in his voice.  And a
little twist to convince the teacher that he was
telling the truth.  Mr. Summers frowned but nodded
after a minute.

"It's not acceptable to laugh when other people get
hurt, Marco."  Mr. Summers said, dropping into his
lecture mode.  "And, Paul I was looking for you.  Why
don't you come to my office and I'll look at your lip.
 It's bleeding."

"'Kay, Mr. Summers."  Paul glanced blandly at Marco
and trailed after the teacher.

He followed the slender man to his office.  The
curtains were drawn, the lights off, and Paul sat
uneasily in the chair when the teacher shut the door.
This must be the other half to Ororo's kicking him out
of school.  Paul wondered uneasily if they were going
to throw him all the way out.  He wanted to leave but
- he didn't want to be just thrown away.  And Remy
wasn't even around.  If they kicked him out now, he'd
never see him again.  Or Logan.  Or Marie.

"I was hoping to have a chance to talk to you.  Is
this dark enough?  Remy mentioned your eyes are quite
sensitive to light."  Mr. Summers pulled out some
antiseptic and a piece of  gauze.

"It's fine."  Paul muttered, pulling off his glasses
unwillingly.  But it was alright.  The teacher's
glasses were still bright red and seemed oddly
luminous in the dim room.  "What about yours?"

Scott pressed the gauze to his mouth gently.  "I can't
take them off.  My mutation - doesn't allow it."

TBC