Title: Dangerous Possessions
Author: Spirit Melody (kat@lsak.fsnet.co.uk) & Firesong (firesong@ukonline.co.uk)
Website: none
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Dangerous Possessions 2
By Spirit Melody & Firesong
During the whole few hours of the journey on the Blackbird, Logan had said nothing to Remy about the real reason the X-Men had just suddenly decided to re-equip Excalibur. The Cajun knew nothing about the gem, granted Logan didn't know much himself - only what he had been able to weasel out of Scooter and the Professor, but he knew all that he could possibly find out at the present. That didn't mean he wasn't interested in finding out the rest… After all, Logan was probably the worst X-Man to try and keep secrets from.
He considered telling Remy what he did know in order to see what the thief's take on the whole subject was. The Cajun could be amazingly astute at times, and it would hardly have bothered the Canadian to disobey a direct order from Cyke; but for once Logan had decided to be a good little X-Man, reminding himself that this wasn't one of Scott's completely inane orders which possessed no base in reason whatsoever.
At the moment only five inhabitants of Earth knew of the existence of the gemstone and where it was; at least that's what they hoped. The Prof knew from being contacted first about the whole matter from Lilandra, he told Cyclops and together they hatched out a plan for the precious stone's safekeeping. Logan was then told; he was in charge of bringing the gem safely across the Atlantic. Moira had been informed by Xavier, a few days before the Ti'Kllinal's arrival; and Pete also knew, being the one to unload the stone from the Blackbird and the one to be in charge of it's protection where it currently resided - housed securely in the biggest of the large re-designed cellars underneath Excalibur's kingly house.
A noise caught Logan's floundering attention. The thump of something solid being thrown across a room, and raised voices following shortly after.
"Pete?! What's your problem?" A woman's voice said, just shy of shouting. Uncomplicated anger coloured the tone - nothing else, except maybe for the slightest bit of resentment and hurt. It was Kitty.
Kitty and Pete. Logan sighed. He loved her like a daughter, and was great friends with him; but it was plain to even Wolverine - or maybe only him - that as a couple they were doomed from the start. Kitty wanted a simple relationship, serious, yet simple.
Wolverine snorted. 'Pretty damn naïve ta even believe ya could have a simple, serious relationship.'
Logan knew from experience, and from observing the experiences of those around him that there was no such thing as 'simple' when it came to love. It was all or nothing. All relationships needed to be worked at, cultivated into growing into an inseperable bond. Anything less was just a fuck. No more, no less.
'Damn old man, ya sound like a flamin' poet!' Logan guzzled down mouthfuls of a tasty and rather fizzy dark local beer he'd found in the fridge. He made a mental note to bring brewskies with him next time.
The argument a few rooms away continued and Logan resigned himself to eavesdropping, there was no way he could block the loud noises out without moving. And he was just fine where he was.
Pete's low voice floated back to him, quieter than Kitty's, and much more pained.
"I just want ter know if yer and 'im are..you know."
'Drop it bub, not yer business anymore and ya know it.'
"Whatever's between me and Simon's none of your concern Pete. I told you, it's over!" A little of the anger has left the woman's voice now, but's just been replaced by more hurt, and a little exasperation.
'Simon..Kitty mentioned him ta me in a letter, some surfer type on the mainland, sounds like a real Scooter type if ya ask me.'
Logan can hear the footsteps, Kitty's decided the argument's over and is now walking away.
"Kit, wait... I ..-"
'Leave it Pete, she'll just crush yer heart even more.'
The footsteps stop, Kitty hesitates.
"It's *over*." she says, never once turning to face Pete.
Logan shook his head, not knowing who to feel the most sorry for. Kitty, because she's a nice girl and probably doesn't want to keep reminding Pete that it's over. Or Pete, because he's hanging on to the last threads of their love with the clingy hope of a forlorn puppy.
Kitty was long gone now, and Pete slowly retreated from the room too. There was a small creak and then a bang, the opening and closing of the old French doors leading out on to the balcony. Or the Smoking Balcony as most members of Excalibur had deemed it.
"What is love, if not a destroyer o' men's pride an' dignity?"
Logan chuckled and glanced up as Gambit entered the room, his hair was uncharacteristically left down around his face and not in a rugged untidy ponytail. It gave his face a slight hint of femininity, but in an absolutely masculine way, if that wasn't a contradiction in terms.
'And why the hell am I ponderin' on Gambit's hairstyles?'
"Ya heard it too?" Logan gently inquired, both men knowing to what he was referring.
"Oui. I was programmin' some o' de new surveillance equipment t'rough dere," he gestured to the room he had just come from, before sitting down near Logan, "So what's deir story?"
Wolverine shrugged, handing the Cajun a beer.
"He loved her more than she loved him."
"No' a bien situation t' be in non?"
"I guess ya'd know."
It wasn't meant entirely unsympathetically, but Remy flinched before being able to quell the automatic reaction.
"Fair play." he replied non-committally.
Logan didn't carry on the conversation, merely studied the younger man's responses to the mention of Rogue and Antarctica, however subtle. Or un-subtle. Logan grinned wolfishly.
After a few minutes of silence Remy downed the last of his beer and rose from the kitchen table.
"I'm going t' have a smoke, y' wan' t' join m'?"
"Maybe..in a bit. See ya punk." Logan considered going after Kitty. To put his arms around her, and tell his little pumpkin that things would be okay. He would probably have gone after Pete too, but he was sure that Remy being the empath would be okay.
'Hope you and Wisdom can knock some sense inta each other.'
************
As Remy looked down the room towards the clear French doors he could see the Smoking balcony was already occupied. He hesitated. For the first time in quite a while he was ready and willing for company ... any kind of company; but the man on the balcony might not feel the same way. In fact, Remy reasoned, probably not. Pete was a dark figure against the steadily greying sky, his head was bowed and his shoulders were hunched. It looked like the most typical of brooding positions.
The young Acadian was undecided, until the familiar dullness in his head and the need for a nicotine rush made the decision for him. He stepped through the doors quietly and went to the right side of the balcony. Wisdom stood over towards the left, one elbow resting on the grey stone wall, cigarette repeatedly alternating from between his lips to between his fingers.
Remy hopped up onto the side of the wall as the rectangular shaped balcony met the solid outside of the house. He leant his back against the wall and brought his knees up, leisurely closing his eyes and trying to make the constant tension he seemed to carry around with him vacate his body. He lit the end of the cigarette with a touch from his fingers and drew the musky smoke into his lungs, the corners of his mouth just starting to twitch toward a smile of pure artificial pleasure.
"You alright up there mate?" Pete asked, not turning to look at Remy but flicking cigarette ash over the edge of the balcony, "'S'a long way down." He pointed out.
It was indeed a long way down, enough of a drop to kill an average human. But Remy was hardly average, first of all with his impeccable balance there were very slim odds of him actually falling in the first place; and then with his agility he'd easily survive the fall. If he fell. Which he wouldn't.
"Oui. I'm fine." 'I'm fine'; he seemed to be saying that very often lately. Always lying.
"So yer LeBeau?" It was a dud question really, Pete knew the answer. But introductions were introductions; they had to be said somehow.
"'Last time I checked." Remy could quip just as well as Pete Wisdom. He watched as Pete stubbed out the butt of his cigarette, and walked towards the Cajun.
"Rumour 'as it, that yer the only one a' those X-pansies who stands any chance a' matching Wolverine drink fer drink." Remy didn't reply. Pete smiled as he took the cigarette from Remy's mouth, took a long drag, before handing it back. "I'm taking yer down the pub tomorrow, my shout."
And with that Pete left without another word.
Remy chuckled softly to himself as the heavens opened up and poured down upon him.
'Mebbe dis trip no' be so bad after all.'
***********
Remy's eyes drifted open and were bathed in the moonlight coming through the windows. He felt weird, something was tugging at the edge of his consciousness, urging him to get up and go.... go where?
He tried to forget about it and relaxed back into the soft pillow and everything went hazy.
***********
Logan was in the cellar. He'd volunteered to watch the security camera monitors for Excalibur, their team was stretched thin and he didn't at all mind the quiet and solitude.
He heard a sound and smelt a familiar scent in the air. The soft padding of bare feet echoed down the hallway leading to the main cellar and the scent was musk and spice and roses, with a touch of recent English rain.
'What the hell's Gumbo doin' down here?'
Logan swivelled his chair round to face the entrance to the cellar; and sure enough, a few seconds later Remy walked in. Logan immediately realised something was amiss. The Cajun was barefoot and wearing nothing but black sweats and a tank top. Sleeping clothes. And his eyes were open but looking at nothing, there seemed to be no flicker of life in them at all. Remy's skin was as pale as new snow and Logan's hackles were instantly raised.
He arose quickly from the chair and crossed the short distance over to the kid. Remy was still moving, slowly and nearly gliding.
Logan reached out and grabbed the back of Remy's sweats to stop him going any further.
A violent jolt went through the Cajun's body at the touch and his eyes closed and then opened once more barely a second after. Instinctively he put his hand on Logan's shoulder to steady himself.
"Gumbo?"
Turning his head swiftly towards the voice Remy blinked and then recognition coupled with confusion crossed his face. He removed his hand from Logan's shoulder and put it to one of his temples as Wolverine let go of his sweats.
"Where am I?" Remy asked, hitching his sweats back into a comfortable position.
"One of the cellars underneath the house. Don'tcha remember walkin' in here?"
"Non.. Non, I was in bed." Gambit frowned.
"Ya make it a habit ta wander round at night?"
"Non. Never." Came the hesitant reply, "But den again…"
Logan shrugged, and turned to head back towards the monitor room.
Remy was about to say something more when the dull throbbing in his head suddenly flared up to a blinding level of sharp slashing pain. He cried out in agony and his whole body tensed, darkness enveloping him as he started to fall.
Logan stopped at the Cajun’s cry, turning back in time to see Remy hit the floor. He cursed and, bending down, gently turned Remy onto his back. He tried to bring him round, first shaking him lightly, then roughly. The Cajun's pulse and breathing were both normal but there was no waking him. Perplexed, Logan lifted the light unconscious weight into his arms. 'Ya sure pick yer moments to take a nap Gumbo.' Logan glanced back briefly at the monitor room. 'Better make this fast, cameras ain’t gonna watch themselves.' He swung Remy’s body on to his shoulder and headed for Moira’s lab.