All characters used in this storyline (Gambit, Rogue, Jean-Luc LeBeau, Bishop, The X-Men, Tante Mattie, Lapin, Belladonna, Gris-Gris, etc) are property of Marvel Entertainment and are used without their permission. Basically, if you recognize the character, I didn't create it.

As this is the most ambitious story I've written to date, I thought I'd better take some time to thank everyone who helped me make it a possibility, or at least make it better, as well as add the usual disclaimers.

For those who care, there is swearing, violence, nudity (The GFC is gonna like that - bad girl! Sorry. :) and sex, at least one instance of it non-consensual. They'll be marked as usual. This story starts about two days before the end of "Middle Class Suburbia" and continues directly from there. It is definately a part of the Gestalt Arc and the preceding stories should be read before this one, just so you have an idea of what's going on.

Note: The character Julien is not Gambit's brother-in-law. I just needed a french name and that was the one I came up with. I suppose I really should change it, but this story is getting really long and I'm far too lazy. :)

And on to the praise!

In no particular order, I'd like to thank:

Valerie Jones - Who was able to sit down with me and bounce around ideas for the plot of this story, as well as letting me know from experience what childbirth and pregnancy are like. Without her, the plot would have gone in a completely different way.

Suzanne Parker - Who took pity on me when my hand was hurting and offered to type this for me. Little did she know what she was getting into. :)

Wendy Doucette - Who provided all the english to french translations for me. Any errors in the grammer and spelling is my fault, not hers.

Mitch Kelly - Who is the author of a fan White Wolf supplement which brings the X-Men and The Thieves Guild into the World of Darkness game system. Many of the little details I used to enrich the Guild originally came from him. ie: The Tithing Box and the way children are treated are his.

Kerry Stubbs - Who kindly, and while resisting the urge, I'm sure, to tell me I'm an idiot, :) taught me that the word y'all is not used singularily, as well as teaching me a whole lot of other southern expressions. Plus for telling me that while the name I gave Rogue is southern, it was an absolutely horrid thing to do to her. :)

Ruby Lis, Melissa Chambers, Jo Pugh - Who, along with Valerie, edited this whole mess for me, as usual.

The Group - You know who you are. :) The ones who answered all my more bizarre questions, such as what to do with pregnant men and being polite enough not to tell me I was nuts (weird, yes, nuts no)

Chops the Agin' Cajun - Who inadvertently taught me a wonderful Cajun expression which proved so useful. :) And who answered my question about what the French Quarter is really like (I'm sure I botched it though)

Oliver McDonald  - My husband, who put up with me while I was writing this, yet kept demanding to know when I was going to finish it and write the birthday story "Professor X and the X-Babes" I promised him. sigh

Gambit - All right, I know it's a little odd to credit one of your characters, but this guy is famous (in my mind at least) at looking at the plot I come up with for him, yelling "I ain' doin' dat!" and running off in another direction. He actually changed the plot entirely on me when I didn't expect him to (I gotta admit, he's got one of the more unusual ways I've seen to get away from a cop).

All the others who supported me and gave advice, as well as everyone who actually reads this and doesn't hit delete. Thanks :)

Enjoy

Lori
:)

I am immortal
I have inside me blood of Kings
I have no rival
No man can be my equal
Take me to the future of your world.

Born to be Kings
Princes of the Universe
Fighting and free
Got your world in my hand
I'm here for your love and I'll make my stand
We were born to be Princes of the Universe.

Princes of the Universe
- Queen

Like the gargoyles, the room was three hundred years old and more, part of a labyrinth of tunnels that had been painstakingly dug out of the soft, watersoaked soil. In the distance, huge engines could be heard, working to hold the water back. It would have been considered an impossibility by any modern engineer who considered it, but then, that impossibility was part of what helped ensure the tunnels' secrecy.

In the room, the air was thick and hot, the ventilation poor, but the ten men who sat around the great stone table didn't notice. They were used to it and it would be a loss of faith for them to react.

"Nous sommes perdus! Le clan est perdu!"

"Silence! Ta panique n'acheve rien!"

"Il n'y a aucun heritier. Qui nous menera?"

"Ma famille est l'ainee. Je dois."

"Comment?! Etre un vieillard fou ne te rend pas chef."

"Tu oses....?!?!?!?!?"

"Silence!" Jacques, the head of the Council for the Thieves Guild of New Orleans, slammed both fists down on the stone table. "Bickerin' get us nowhere!" Reluctantly, they turned to look at him. "Now, we got us a serious problem." He took a deep breath. "Jean-Luc is dead."

"How?" one whispered. "De Elixir s'posed t' make us immortal."

"De delay in de last tithin'. Dat mus' be it."

Around the table, men who'd stolen and gambled and watched generations of sons and daughters die fighting the assassins flinched. They looked down, they turned away. Filled with grief for a clan member now gone, but more with fear for themselves and their families.

"What we gonna do?" Marcel asked. "Jean-Luc lef' no heirs t' take his place."

"Y' c'n jus' bet de Assassins gonna take advantage a' dis."

"It simple. Make me de leader an' I keep us all safe."

"I already tol' you, Julien. You ain' gonna be leader."

Jacques shook his head. The Council was created to guide the Guild, but it needed a leader, a single man to be its figurehead. Someone for the families to look up to. Or perhaps a woman would be possible. The Assassins had done it.

"Jean-Luc has a living granddaughter, Minuette. She an intelligen' woman an' a skilled t'ief. Perhaps she could be de new leader."

The reaction was immediate.

"I ain' followin' no woman!"

Jacques sighed. Three hundred years of patriarchy was hard to defeat when the men who'd started it were still around to continue the tradition.

"Fine. So who dat leave us? An' forget it, Julien. It ain't gonna be you."

Julien muttered angrily and leaned back as the Guild members began to suggest names.

They'd narrowed the list to fifteen possible candidates, ten of them men on the Council itself, when there was a tentative knock at the door. The men looked at it in surprise. No one was supposed to interrupt them while they were meeting.

Frowning, Jacques went to open the door and a young woman came in, her head bowed in embarrassment and nervousness.

"Belladonna Beaudreaux, chef des Assassins, est venue persenter ses respects. Elle insiste sur une audience." (7)

Jacques' eyebrows shot up. "You kiddin', right?"

"Non, sir. She right outside."

Julien shot to his feet. "We kill her now, we take de head off de Assassins Guild!"

"An' you wonder why we don' wan' you as leader," Marius growled. "Sit down! We kill her, we get all de Assassins killin' our people."

Jacques ignored them, addressing the girl. "Est elle venue seule?"

"Non, Monsieur. Elle a emmene une petite fille."

All the men fell silent. One of the few things the Guild of Thieves and the Guild of Assassins had been able to agree on from the beginning was that children were inviolate. Men who would kill each other in a heartbeat under normal circumstances would sit and be civil, even friendly, if a child were present. In three hundred years of feuding, only one child had been killed and both Guilds banded together to hunt down the murderer. It was a level of cooperation which had only been seen one other time.

It was the calming presense children which allowed the late Jean-Luc and Marius to negotiate a tentative peace, failure though it was. Belladonna had probably gained much of her political knowledge while playing with dolls by her father's knee in this very room.

"Let her in, chile," Jacques decided. "We see what she got t' say." The young woman nodded and headed out the door.

"You didn' ask us what our vote was," Julien said smugly. "You plannin' on bein' leader y'self?"

Jacques didn't even bother to look at him. "Don't t'ink ev'yone greedy as you, Julien."

The door opened and the men stood as a young woman leading a little girl by the hand came in.

Belladonna Beaudreaux was in her early twenties, a slim woman with blonde, shoulder length hair she wore in a multitude of tiny braids. Her face was round and feminine, but no one would think her soft once they looked in her eyes. They were blue and hard as ice.

Still, she smiled warmly as she came in with the child and shooed her over to a box of toys that was always kept in the corner.

"I heard 'bout Jean-Luc," she said calmly. "I came t' offer my condolences."

Jacques' eyes narrowed as he shook her offered hand. "How you know 'bout his death?"

She smiled disarmingly as she steped over to sit on the edge of the table. "Come now, Jacques. Y' got people in my Guild. No reason I should'n' have dem in yours."

"So why you here?" Julien grated, his arms crossed over his chest. "Surely not jus' t' pay y' respects?"

"Rude, i'n't he?" Belle began to pull off her gloves, finger by finger. "However, he be right. I wan' t' know who be de new leader a' de Thieves Guild."

"Why? So y' c'n assassinate him?"

"Julien, stop it!" Jacques glared at the man until he sat down, then turned back to Belle. "Forgive us for de impoliteness of our companion."

Belle glared at Julien. "Dat's okay. Dere a lot a' bad blood 'tween our Guilds. Not ev'body wan' it t' end." She looked sad.

Jacques caught his breath and saw out of the corner of his eye that the other Council members were the same.

"Do you... feel dat way?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Belladonna stared at her bare hands. "Oui. My father raise me t' be part a de symbol dat unite our two Guilds, after all."

This was a delicate situation as the ten men tried to guess what Belle was getting at. After centuries of war, her father and Jean-Luc managed to bring a temporary peace, one that looked like it could become permanent. They all remembered what happened to shatter that peace. But if Belladonna wanted the treaty too...

Generations of thieves had died. Perhaps generations could now be saved.

"Are y' tellin' me dat you have some a' bringin' our Guilds back t'gether?" Jacques asked.

Belladonna smiled. "I got an idea."

Rogue was crying. Half-blinded by her own tears, she flew over the town of Westchester, frantically headed for home.

She no longer thought of the little house she'd been in as her home. Not with its picket fences and petunias or neighbors who accepted her in spite of her powers. Her dream home. That dream had shattered only hours past. She'd left an hour ago, headed for the X-Men as fast as she could fly. She had to get to them.

The young mutant saw a green estate appear below her and angled downwards toward a large mansion.

#Rogue?# Jean's telepathic voice sounded in her mind. #What's wrong? Where's Remy?#

Rogue ignored her, flying towards the front door of the mansion. A big, black man raced towards her across the front lawn, a plasma rifle gripped in both hands.

"Rogue," Bishop called, uncompromising. "Are we under attack?!"

Landing before the mansion, she reached for the door. Bishop grabbed her arm. "What happened? Where is my father?"

Rogue yanked her arm away. "He's fine, okay? Jus' perfect! Now leave me alone!"

Yanking the door open, she hurried inside and up the stairs. She saw various X-Men coming towards her, so she flew down the hall to her room. Her old room, not the one she'd shared with Gambit. Once inside, she closed and locked the door.

The room was rather small, the original X-Men having gotten the larger bedrooms. Still, lacy curtains were in the windows and there were pictures and posters of fantasy scenes hanging on every wall. There was a vanity table with a large mirror, a private bathroom, a single bed, dresser, and a small bookshelf. The walls were white, the bedspread pink, and on every flat surface were stuffed animals. She turned slowly, looking at them all.

Most were teddy bears. White ones, pink, brown, blue, yellow, plaid, floral. Big teddies, little ones, ones with teacups and a blanket having a picnic. Teddies in pajamas and t-shirts and frilly little dresses, some whole, others with eyes missing.

There were other stuffed toys as well. A deer with a huge rip in the neck, covered by a crochetted green scarf, a scruffy elephant, a plaid frog, a knitted pink puppy, a raccoon, and more. All the accumulated treasures of a lifetime.

A soft knock came at the door. "Rogue?" Storm called. "May I come in?"

Rogue picked up a fuzzy gray bean bag with eyes. "Ah don't wanta talk ta anyone, Ororo."

"I... see. May I at least ask where Remy is?"

Remy. Gambit. They were more concerned with where he was than they were with her.

Rogue turned and threw the toy at the window as hard as she could. "Ah said Ah didn't want ta talk about it!"

The toy bulletted through the window, shattering the glass into a thousand glittering pieces. It didn't cause enough damage, though, so she grabbed the dresser with an inarticulate scream and hurled it after the toy. It took out the remainder of the window and half the wall as well.

Rogue attacked her toy collection next. Fluff and stuffing flew everywhere as she ripped them apart. The mirror was next, and the bed.

The door burst open. "Rogue! Control yourself!" Cyclops fired a low-power optic beam at her, but she ignored it as she ignored the telepaths who tried to reach her mind. Then Beast hopped into the room and grabbed her arm.

"Let go of me!" she screamed. Surprised, he did so. "Don' touch me! All a' ya, don' evah touch me again!"

Her room wrecked, Rogue pushed her way through the X-Men assembled in the hall and down to the Danger Room, to continue the destruction where the targets wouldn't run out. And where she could turn up the heat, since she felt so very cold.

The stone of the central hall of the Thieves Guild labyrinth was icy cold. There were fireplaces along the wall, but none were lit.

Most of the hall was dark as well, and pillars as thick as three men loomed out of the darkness to hold up the arched ceiling. Barely, tapestries and paintings could be seen, making the hall seem like something out of a medieval castle.

The floor was made of white stone blocks, patterned in the same circular, geometric shape. It led unbroken, save for the pillars, to a massive rectangular pedestal reached by marble steps just before the back wall of the hall, below the statue of a Saint of thieves.

There were only two sources of light in the room. Hundreds of candles glowed around the pedestal, hundreds more in a circle surrounding the figure who genuflected on the floor.

Remy LeBeau lay on the hard floor on his belly, his arms straight out to either side, his legs stretched out behind him. He was covered from the neck down in a cloak that covered the ground for two meters around him and exactly matched the patterns on the floor. Seen from above, his head appeared to be disembodied.

It was an uncomfortable position, and an incredibly bad place to lie in it in, but the young mutant barely noticed.

It'd been an overwhelmingly confusing night. Less than ten hours before, he'd been in the little house he'd been sharing with Rogue, screaming at her. The next thing he knew, his family had shown up to take him back to New Orleans. They hadn't given him a chance to think or even start to reconcile with Rogue.

He'd only had a second to look back at her. She'd been standing in the living room, arms crossed, face red from her rage at what she believed he'd done to her. She'd been cold, unforgiving, so sure that only she was right. He'd been enraged as well, but mixed in with his own anger was a sudden sense of recognition, as he saw in her another woman, one he'd stopped loving a long time ago. Between that recognition and the shock of what had just been whispered to him, what could he have said to her, he wondered. Ask her to come with him or tell her to go to Hell?

Then the chance was gone. He was pulled out the door while his family told him about the importance of 'duty to the Guild', something which had been ingrained into his very bones. Ten minutes later, he'd been at the airport, in three hours he landed in New Orleans, and an hour later, he was in in this hall, with only the vaguest concepts of why he was here or what was expected of him. He hadn't even said goodbye.

The pain of that wasn't the only one in him, though. Slowly, Remy lifted his head, ignoring the crick in his neck, and looked up at the pedestal.

The statue of the Saint gazed down at him silently, sheltering in her skirts a couple of thieves clutching jewels. He didn't know if she was an actual saint recognized by the Christian church, but 300 years of thieves had bowed to her as their spokeswoman to God. He himself was unnerved by her. He didn't know if the Saint was truly holy, but the face she'd been given was of a woman he knew had no link to God.

His gaze flickered away from the Saint before he could meet her mocking gaze, down to the pedestal.

It was humansized, and on it lay a man. Covered as Remy was from the neck down, his eyes were closed as though in sleep.

"Father," Remy whispered. "Poppa... "

For some reason, as he lay there genuflecting before God and his father's body, he found his mind drifting back to one specific memory.

He'd been ten years old and had been living in Jean-Luc's house for three months. He still didn't know how he'd been talked into it, and kept expecting the bomb to drop.

He would have run for it, as he always did in the past whenever someone offered to "help" him. Still, no one had taken him to live in a mansion before and the luxury of it was hard to leave behind. Besides, the food was hot, the rooms warm, and he was rapidly coming to love his new nurse, Tante Mattie, like a mother.

Jean-Luc, however, he avoided. Men were not to be trusted. He wouldn't talk to him or acknowledge him, and if the older man touched him, he'd bite. Tante Mattie told him he was being silly, but there was a world of difference for him between men and women. Women were soft and warm. Men were cruel and would hurt him.

That night, he'd been curled up asleep in his bed, hugging his new teddy bear to him, when a loud crack of thunder made him jump. An instant later, lightning flashed, lighting his room in bizarre negative colors.

Remy sat up in bed, shivering as he clutched his bear, his heart pounding in his chest. Like nothing else, storms frightened him.

"Tante," he whispered, no sound getting past the lump in his throat. "Tante," he tried again, a little louder this time, though drowned in the sudden downpour outside. "Tante... "

Thunder crashed again, closer, and the little boy screamed. Leaping out of his bed he bolted down the hall to Tante's room.

She wasn't there, and he remembered belatedly that she was out helping a woman give birth. His lip trembled and he became a little less the streetkid he'd been forced to be and more the little boy he'd started becoming since he moved into the mansion. A little boy who'd needed someone, only to discover they weren't there.

Lightning crashed again, three times in quick succession and he ran, not even realizing where he was going as he raced upstairs and flung open the doors to the master bedroom, just as the thunder caught up with him.

Jean-Luc sat up in the sudden half-light that flooded through the windows.

"Remy?"

Terrified and desperate for anyone to take away the fear, Remy flung himself at him. The older man was startled for only a moment, then he put his own arms around him.

"Shhh... " Jean-Luc soothed. "It jus' a storm. You be safe in here." He stroked his hair gently.

Remy let him, snuggling up to his warm side as the thief tucked the blanket around him and settled back down. Forced to trust because of his own fear, he did. Trusted in his father to protect him always.

Tears in his eyes, Remy stared up at his father's body. "Poppa... " he whispered again, and choked down a sob.

Laying his forehead down against the floor, with no one but the stone Saint to see him, Remy LeBeau cried until dawn came.

Ororo Munroe looked up at a hesitant knock at her door.

"Come in."

The door opened and Rogue came in, dressed in pajamas and carrying a couple of blankets and a pillow.

"Um, can Ah sleep on ya couch, sugah?" she asked sheepishly. "Ah kinda wrecked mah room an' Ah don't wanna stay in--in Gambit's. Ah don't wanna be alone t'night anyway."

Storm nodded. "Of course, child."

Rogue nodded gratefully and came the rest of the way into the converted west wing attic, edging around a massive fern as Storm cleared off the couch cushions and pulled it out to reveal a serviceable bed. The attic was very large and spacious, directly under the roof so that the ceiling slanted upwards and then flattened out, allowing room for a very large skylight. It was open and a cool night breeze blew in.

Rogue started to make up the bed. "Do ya always leave that open?" she asked. "Aren't ya afraid it'll rain?"

Storm merely smiled and went back to what she'd been doing, watering her plants. Raising her hand, she pulled the water in the air together to form a small, dense cloud. It shuddered and began to rain on one of the many plants that were scattered about.

Rogue knelt on the bed and watched her. "Ah guess rain's th' least o' ya worries."

Ororo continued watering, occasionally plucking dead leaves as she did so, crooning to her plants lovingly.

"Storm?" Rogue called plaintively. "Are ya mad at me?"

Storm sighed and let the little cloud dissipate. "No, Rogue. I am not mad. Disappointed, maybe, but not mad. I thought you had gotten over throwning childish temper tantrums."

The young woman ducked her head. "Ah'm sorry. Ah was jus' really upset."

"Why?"

"Ah--Ah really don't wanta talk 'bout it. Do Ah have ta?"

Storm sighed and walked over to her huge king-sized bed, raised on a platform above the floor of the attic.

"No, child, you do not have to tell anyone anything, if you do not wish to."

Rogue smiled and snuggled down in her bed. "Thanks, sugah."

Storm lay back, staring at the stars that moved so slowly in the heavens through the skylight. She was awake for a long time, worrying.

The Guild came into the hall one by one soon after daybreak, cloaked and hooded in black, each one of them carrying a candle and chanting.

"La guilde est unie, la dime est unie..."

Over and over they said it. The Guild is one, the Tithe is one. The words were spoken softly, but coming out of the mouths of over a hundred men and women, it reverberated through the hall.

The Guildmembers entered in two lines, turning to walk alongside the walls, leaving the pillars between them and the main part of the hall. Every hundred feet, one of them would drop out to light one of the many fireplaces, then rejoin the line. The hall surged with renewed heat and light, showing the previously hidden engavings on fireplace and pillar.

When they reached the end of the hall, the Guild members turned inwards, diagonally faced towards the doors they'd entered by, and crossed one another before the altar. Reaching the pillars again, they turned and walked by them, this time along the inside. Slowly, still chanting, they stretched their lines out along the length of the pillars and waited.

There was a rustle at the door then and the members of the ten Thieves Guild families entered. Men, women, children, young, middle aged, and a few old. They came in uncertainly, whispering amongst themselves, dressed in their Sunday finest, frightened. They'd been gathered from most of the Southern states and as far away as Quebec and Paris, and most of them looked confused. After all, this ceremony was last performed in 1923 and none of them had been alive then to witness it.

Only a tiny fraction of the ten families were interested in joining the Guild and were good enough to actually do so. Most lived normal lives as normal people, with no acknowledgment of the Guild beyond claiming membership in the LeBeau clan, coming to the infrequent ceremony, and calling on it in times of trouble. The Guild always took great care of the families, for it was from them alone that it drew its members, with one exception.

That exception lay genuflecting on the floor, just as he had been all night. Remy LeBeau's spatial awareness let him know exactly what was happening around him, but he didn't move. He couldn't until called on by the Council, which would arrive last.

His eyes closed, Remy focused on the families as they shuffled along the same route the Guild had taken, filling up the spaces behind and between the pillars. When no one could fit anymore, they filed up narrow stairs to balconies halfway up the walls of the hall and again at the top. Even that couldn't hold them all and they blocked the doorway and the passage outside, except for a narrow path that was forcibly kept free. Roughly guessing, Remy would say that there were about five thousand people in there. The heat was stifling.

"Maman, qu'est-ce qu'il y a?" one child called to its mother.

"Chut," she whispered. "Je ne sais pas. Regardes."

Remy sympathized with the little one's confusion. He didn't know much more than she did. He'd been told, of course, but he still couldn't believe it and he pushed it as far away from his mind as he could. He would have said no to this, but that wasn't an option. One wasn't asked to do what he was about to. One was ordered.

He sensed movement at the door and the whispering quieted, leaving only the chanting as the Council came in. Equals all, they walked abreast up the center of the hall, splitting to either side to pass him and his ring of candles. Rejoining on the far side, they continued to the altar and bowed their heads to the Saint and the body below it.

"Jean-Luc, maitre des voleurs, chef de la guilde. Pendant soixante-treize ans vous nous avex mene avec direction."

Remy stifled a sigh. Seventy-three years as leader. He'd never imagined it would ever end. Jean-Luc had seemed immortal to him, had been immortal in fact.

"Pardonnez-nous, Jean-Luc, de vous faire attendre votre repos, mais vous avez encore droit d'en faire temoin."

Poppa, Remy thought, his eyes wet again. Until at least the first part of the ceremony was completed, his father wouldn't be buried, so that he would have the honour of being allowed to "watch". The Council rose and turned. "Levez-vous, Remy Etienne Lebeau, et advancez."

This was his cue. For the first time in more than half a day, Remy LeBeau rose to his feet, unused muscles screaming in protest and almost driving him back to his knees.

Years before, when he was thirteen, Remy had been doing his homework in the same room where Jean-Luc was telling his youngest biological son, Henri, about this very ceremony. He'd ignored most of what he said, but there were a few things that stuck in his mind.

"Don' let dem see you weak, Henri," Jean-Luc had said. "Do what dey don' expect. Dey s'posed t' be on y' side, but if y' don' keep dem off dere balance, dey keep y' off yours."

That seemed to make a lot of sense now, given where he was, so Remy forced himself to his feet. He didn't fall or stagger and the people on the upper balconies gasped as his cloak made it seem as though he rose right out of the floor.

The Council didn't react. "Advancez, Remy LeBeau. Et deshabillez pour nous faire preuve que vous n'etes pas arme comme Assassin."

Someone sniggered and was quickly shushed.

What is it wit' dis Guild dat everyt'ing always done in de nude?

He knew the reason for the tradition. There was no outward sign that a Thief had taken the Elixir of Life, but there were signs on the Assassins of the Elixir of Power that couldn't be hidden very easily.

Standing in the center of the candles, Remy reached up to unhook the clasp of the cloak. He was already nude under it. Then an idea occurred to him and he smiled at the Council.

You said t' keep dem off balance, father.

Instead of unclasping the cloak, he spread his arms, the cloak containing enough fabric that he didn't expose himself, and stiff enough that it spread out like a pair of wings.

One of the Council members looked as though he wanted to say something, but Remy didn't give him a chance.

He charged the cloak. Delicately, but visibly. The crowd gasped and even the Council members' eyes widened as fuschia-colored light flowed out from him through the white. A low hum sounded through the hall, in counterpoint to the chanting.

Remy didn't stop until the entire cloak was glowing and streamers of light dripped continuously to the ground. It wasn't a full charge. Just enough to destroy the molecular bonds holding the cloak fibers together. It was a trick he'd learned for breaking out of handcuffs when he didn't have a lockpick handy. It wasn't enough to to harm him, but it certainly looked impressive.

Suddenly, Remy yanked his arms down and the cloak literally exploded off of him. In the storm of confetti which rained down around him, he smiled at the stunned expressions on the Council members' faces. It was a small victory, but one of many he'd have to win for the rest of his life.

The confetti from the cloak fluttered down, some still glowing with unreleased energy to explode against the floor.

Gambit stood among the circles of candles, many blown out now, smiling at the unnerved Council members. Calmly, though he was a mass of nerves inside, he walked towards them and, while about ten feet away, turned around slowly.

"He be no Assassin!" Jacques intoned and winked at the young man while the crowd cheered.

Remy grinned as a thief came up to drape a plain black cloak over his shoulders. Then his grin faded. This was not an occasion to smile at.

"Agenouillez-vous, Remy LeBeau."

Remy knelt, the floor hard under his knees as he looked up at them. He tried to pretend it was them looking down at him though.

"Etes-vous Remy LeBeau?" Jacques asked.

Would I be here if I weren ?" Remy thought sarcastically. "Oui."

"Et vous portez le sang de la guilde dans vos veines?"

They'd had to rewrite this one. Remy had no actual Guild blood in his body and by Guild law, he technically shouldn't even be allowed to watch this, let alone participate. Remy hoped he remembered everything he'd been told when he was first brought to the hall.

"Pas dans mes veines. Dans mon coeur et dans mon ame."

The Council members nodded in acceptance. Obviously.

"Vous etes membre de la guilde?"

Guild member? Sure I was. For a whole four months before dey banish me. "Oui."

"Et vous possedez la boite de la dime qui vous prononce comme membre?"

Remy hesitated. The Tithing Box they asked him about had a direct link to the Benefactress, and as far as he knew, all ties to her had been broken. Hearing her referred to, even obliquely, made him nervous.

"Oui," he said at last.

The Council noticed his hesitation and glanced amongst themselves. Most looked worried or even understanding, but one pursed his lips in annoyance. Remy recognized him. He was Julien, the most antagonistic member of the Council. Remy met his gaze and let his eyes glow. Julien looked enraged and it was Remy who flushed and turned away. Challenging the Council was unheard of.

"Remy Etienne LeBeau," Jacques said, "Etes-vous prepare de vous soumettre aux travaux qui seront necessaires?"

Remy's lip twisted. He honestly didn't know if he wanted any of this. It'd always been supposed to go to Henri, and when he died, Remy had already been banished from the Guild. He'd never expected to be the one chosen.

But they'd called it his duty, and duty to the Guild was so ingrained in him he was ready to die for it.

Or lead.

"Oui," he whispered.

Jacques stepped forward, a servant coming up to join him, carrying a tray which held a plate of waybread and a goblet of wine.

"Puis recevez la communion de la guilde des voleurs."

Remy opened his mouth and Jacques placed the wafer on his tongue. It was thin and dry, and crunched as he chewed and swallowed. Jacques smiled as he took up the glass of wine and held it to Remy's lips.

Remy swallowed and realized immediately that it wasn't wine. It was green, bitter, and thick--and it burned as it slid down his throat.

What IS dis?!

He tried to pull away, but the drink burned its way into his limbs, locking them as it stiffened his muscles. Jacques stepped back as he began to shake.

"T'day's ceremony be done," Jacques called to the crowd. "We rejoin t'morrow, if de Elixir will it."

De Elixir! Dey gave me de Elixir a' Life!

Remy's shaking grew worse as servants took his arms, to carry him from the hall ahead of the crowds. Julien smiled coldly as he was taken past him.

Dat's pure Elixir, mutant, he gloated in a whisper. "De reg'lar stuff kill one in ev'ry twenty who take it. Dis kill many more. We can' have a leader who go insane, now can we?"

He turned away, still smiling, as the terrified young mutant began to choke.

Rogue woke with a start, rolled awkwardly out of bed and bolted for the tiny bathroom put in the attic for Storm's use. There was no shower stall, since Storm preferred to wash in the rain, but there was a toilet and Rogue knelt over it, heaving.

Oh God! Ah thought it was too early f' me ta get mornin' sickness.

Storm appeared in the doorway. "Rogue? Are you alright?"

"I, uh--oh, God... " She started shaking as she vomited again.

"I am getting Beast," Ororo decided and vanished.

Rogue nodded, clutching the bowl of the toilet. She felt like her insides were boiling, rotting away inside her.

"Oh, Dieu!" Remy thrashed in the bed, hacking, struggling to breathe as the Elixir tried to change his already mutated cells.

"Easy, chile. Don' fight it."

Remy opened his eyes to see a familiar black woman sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands pressing his shoulders down.

"Tante Mattie?"

She smiled sadly. "Of course, chile. Who better t' take care a' y'?"

Gasping, froth foaming on his lips that she wiped away, he grasped her arm. "Tante... de Guild... dey gave me de Elixir a' Life..."

Her eyes grew even sadder. "I know, Remy."

His grip tightened. "De Guild...? Dey back t'... workin' for Candra?"

"Chile, dey never stop."

Remy sagged back in the bed, his eyes closed. A few months after he joined the X-Men, he'd faced off against the External, Candra. He'd thought he'd broken her hold on the Thieves and Assassins' Guilds she'd founded. He'd had to. She was a manipulative, evil woman, and the Elixirs she gave carried far too high a price. He didn't know the price of the Assassins' Elixir of Power, but those who took the Elixir of Life risked madness and death.

"Tante... y' gotta help... give me somet'ing."

"Oh, chile, I wish I could."

"But she can't an' she know it." Jacques came into the room and up to the bed. "She give y' sometin' t' help y' t'rough dis an' de next time y' take de Elixir, it'll hit y' like poison."

Remy coughed raggedly. "Why... give? Ain' y' s'posed... t' ask first?"

Jacques nodded. "Usually, oui. But y' implied consent when y' agreed t' perform in de ceremony."

"Hehn?! I was given no--no..." His eyes rolled up in his head and he began to convulse.

"Remy!" Tante looked down at the young mutant helplessly. She'd seen this reaction before.

So had Jacques. "It killin' him," he said soberly. "So much f' de peace we been offered." He squeezed Tante's shoulder comfortingly. "Stay wit' him, Tante, an' let us know when he die. I got t' tell de Council."

Jacques left as Tante bent over Remy, trying to force his swollen tongue away his air passages and give him at least a few more seconds of life.

"Rogue. Rogue? Can you hear me?"

Rogue looked up, gasping. She was lying in the mansion infirmary, surrounded by Sh'iar medical equipment. She felt horrible, hot and cold, her insides twisting. Only a tube down her throat let her breathe.

She nodded, unable to speak.

The blue-furred doctor smiled and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Now, I need to ask you a few questions." He waited for her short nod and continued. "Have either you or Remy been ill lately?"

Rogue shook her head.

"Have either of you eaten anything that disagreed with you?

She shook her head again.

"All right. I'm going to give you a shot now to settle these symptoms down."

He turned to pick up a syringe and fill it from a tiny vial as Storm touched his arm. Jean watched from beside her.

"What is wrong with her?"

"Physically? It could be the flu, it could be something worse. Actually, I think it's Gambit, and she's picking up his reactions to whatever he has."

Both Storm and Phoenix blinked in surprise. Hank finished filling the syringe and injected Rogue, who had been squirming as if she wanted to tell him something, though she couldn't around the tube. Almost immediately, her breathing began to ease.

"Excellent. Now, you lie still while I take some more readings."

Storm leaned towards Hank and whispered. "Will she be all right?"

He smiled wider. "The prognosis is extremely good. Her vital signs are already returning to normal."

Jean stepped over. "What about Remy?'

He hesitated. "I... don't know."

Tante looked down in amazement at the young mutant who lay in the bed.

"C'est incroyable," she whispered, and actually giggled, a sound she hadn't made since she was a girl.

Remy slept, his breathing normal, the colour returning to his face.

Tante couldn't believe how fast he'd turned around. One moment, he'd been shaking to death in her arms, the next it were as though a storm had passed.

The door opened and Jacques entered, followed by two other Council members, Julien and Marcel.

"So, he still lives," Jacques said flatly as a tiny smile played around his lips.

Julien frowned. "You said he be dyin', woman."

"And she was wrong," Jacques snapped. "I, for one, am glad she was." He nodded to Tante. "How he pull t'rough?"

She bowed her head. "I don' know."

"Maybe it 'cause he a mutant," Marcel suggested.

Jacques shrugged. "Dat reason as good as any. I don' really care. I jus' care 'bout de peace he gonna bring us. Keep an eye on him, Tante."

He nodded respectfully to her and followed the other two out the door.

"So he gonna live," Julien groused as soon as the door shut behind him.

"An' bring peace t' de Clan an' Guild," Marcel retorted. "What else y' want?"

Julien's eyes were cold. "Peace be one t'ing, but what else he gonna bring? We all know how he feel 'bout de Benefactress. De second he leader, he gonna have de power to shatter de pact, and we won' be able t' stop him. Is peace worth de loss of immortality?"

Marcel was silent and Jacque sighed softly. "I know, and I don' like it, but I agree. We need Remy as the GuildMaster for the sake of de Treaty, but we can' afford to give him any real power."

"How we gonna stop him?" Marcel asked uncertainly. Julien watched him eagerly.

Jaques started down the hall, so there would be no chance of unwelcome ears overhearing. "I know Remy since he was jus' a li'l whelp, and I know how we c'n trap him."

"Feeling better?"

Rogue sipped her orange juice and smiled. "Much better."

Beast grinned. "Glad to hear it. The other X-Men have been worried about you."

"Well, sugah, give me a coupla minutes an' Ah'll march right down there an' dance for 'em all." She sipped her juice.

Henery laughed. "I'm sure you will." He took a breath. "How's Remy?"

Her mouth tightened and her eyes narrowed. "Why should Ah care?"

Because you love him? Beast thought, but didn't say. "I suspect he was the cause of your abrupt illness. I was wondering if you could sense how he's feeling through your link."

She looked away stiffly. "He's just fine. Peachy. He started ta get better once ya gave me that shot."

Henry blinked at that. There was a strong link between Remy and Rogue, one where they could feel the other's reactions when at a distance. But up until now, he'd never heard of drugs used on one affecting the other. If they had, controlling Remy's previous mental illness would have been much simpler.

The possibilities of an evolving Gestalt began to form a list in his mind until Rogue cleared her throat loudly.

"Ah said, how long do ya want me ta stay here?"

"What? Oh, just until I run a few tests to make sure there's nothing else going on inside you."

Rogue blushed. "Actually, there is. Ah--Ah'm pregnant, Hank."

Henery's jaw dropped open. "You are?"

"Yeah." She grinned. "Ah was actually a little surprised, since Ah was on the Pill an' all."

Hank couldn't seem to get by his shock. "You were? You didn't get them through me."

"No. Ah've been takin' them since Ah was fifteen. Ah used ta get horrible migraines when Ah was havin' mah period."

Hank shook his head. "But I thought you couldn't GET pregnant," he blurted out, and winced.

Rogue's eyes widened. "What?"

"Oh, nothing." He grinned. "I assume congratulations are in order?"

Rogue's return smile was tremulous. "Ah reckon so." She looked away. "Ah jus' nevah thought Ah'd end up a single momma."

Hank sat on the edge of the bed and took both her hands in his own. "Are you sure about that?"

She stared up at him, her eyes shining with tears. "He left me, Beast. We had a huge fight an' he--he left."

She started to cry, head bowed, long hair covering her face. And dressed as he was in just a labcoat and his usual shorts, he couldn't even hold her.

So is DIS what it mean t' be immortal? Like de worst hangover in de world?

Sullenly, Remy LeBeau stook in a small room off the Great Hall, waiting for his turn in the ceremony. It'd been going on all day, since the moment it was proven that the Elixir of Life hadn't managed to kill him. He'd still been asleep when they came to drag him out of bed so he could wait here.

At least I not have t' lie on de floor f' dis one.

Quietly, he tried to peer through the curtain covering the doorway to see what was happening.

"Hey, stop squirmin', homme."

Remy looked over his shoulder to see his cousin Lapin, trying to get the folds of his cloak to settle neatly over his shoulders. "Why you so damn tall anyway?"

Remy forced a smile. "So, you know what s'posed t' happen next?"

"Didn' dey tell you?"

He shook his head. "Non. Dey us'ally don' say 'til jus' b'fore it happen. Make me feel like a spectator at m' own coronation."

Lapin laughed as he walked around in front of him to check the clasp. "Hey, de Council treat us all dat way."

Remy nodded. He'd been subjected to the same at his wedding as well. "Do y' know when dey havin' my father's funeral?"

Lapin hesitated. "Dey, uh, dey buried him dis mornin', while y' were asleep."

Oh, saints, Poppa...

All the colour drained out of the mutant's face as he sank into a chair. He'd cried for his father but he hadn't had time to grieve for him and he'd wanted so much to be at the funeral. Now that sense of closure was lost to him.

Why is it all de episodes a' my life end in great bloody rips?

Not caring that Lapin was there, Remy buried his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Remy," Lapin said softly.

Abruptly, Remy sensed movement on the other side of the curtain, just before Julien came inside.

"What you doin' dere, boy?" he snapped. "You gon' delay de ceremony."

Remy lifted his head and glared at him until the centuries-old man took a step backwards.

"Why was my father buried wit'out me?"

Julien's jaw tightened. "It was time. Dere wasn't no need for y' t' be dere."

"No need?!" Remy leaped to his feet, fists clenched and glowing. "I was his son!"

"Not by blood y' ain't," Julien seemed to enjoy bringing up the fact. "An' even if y' were, ties t' de Guild be stronger dan blood. It decide what y' do an' where y' go."

"It won't when I lead it."

Julien was silent, a poker face hiding his expression. "We see 'bout dat." He crossed his arms, "For now, y' wait f' my signal, den y' walk t' de altar an' kneel. Say yes t' what y' asked an' take de oath dey say t' you. Den stand, face de families an' give a speech t' welcome dem an' open celebrations. Don' do anyt'ing shorter dan five minutes."

Remy's jaw dropped. "But... nobody tol' me I have t' do a speech."

"Den y' in big trouble, neh?" Julien smirked. "Don' make a fool a' y'self. De families tend not t' forget."

He turned to go as Remy looked at Lapin, all his grief, fear, and confusion rolled into a tight ball, the pain of which showed in his eyes,

Lapin attempted to smile reassuringly, though he only managed to look worried. "Knock 'em dead, cousin," he said lamely.

Rogue stayed in Storm's loft all day, not wanting to talk to anyone or bear their looks and questions. It wasn't until Storm was asleep in her bed and the house was quiet that she got up and went downstairs to get something to eat.

Ah reckon Ah'm hungry 'nough ta eat a horse, she thought as she pulled open the 'fridge door. There wasn't any horse, so she settled for a plate of coldcuts, bread, and cheese. Seating herself in the breakfast nook, she began cramming food into her mouth.

"Whoo, now THAT'S ladylike behaviour," Rogue looked up as a grinning Bobby Drake stepped into her field of vision. "You know, you ARE allowed to chew before you swallow."

Rogue's eyes narrowed and she would have retorted with something suitably scathing if her mouth wasn't full. As it was, she tried to swallow it all, started coughing, and wound up getting slapped on the back by Bobby while he handed her a glass of water.

"You okay?" he asked at last.

"Yah. What are ya doin' up?"

He jerked a thumb at the 'fridge. "Munchie attack."

Rogue pushed the plate toward him and he sat down to help himself. For a few minutes they sat silently across from each other, eating, though Rogue used better manners now than she had before.

As she ate, she tried to focus on the tiny embryo inside her belly. The child she'd never thought she'd be able to have. Remy's child. The rage and pain of his betrayal filled her again and her face turned red even as her eyes misted. She'd wanted a child so badly, but not like this. Not alone. Remy had shattered her dreams of mother, father, and child just as he did all the others when he mocked them with his actIons, then left. He'd been laughing at her needs the whole time they were there.

"You're better off without him, you know."

Hunched over, her elbows on the table, her hair framing her face as she slowly ripped a coldcut apart and put the pieces in her mouth, Rogue looked up. "What?"

Bobby blushed. "Gambit. I know about how he left you and your baby. I'm sorry."

"What?" Rogue repeated, having visions of taking a certain doctor apart. "Hank told ya?"

He shook his head. "I was in the hall outside and I overheard."

Rogue's eyes narrowed. "Ya eavesdropped?" she asked dangerously.

Bobby put his hands up in surrender. "Not to be cruel or anything. But you weren't talking to anybody and I was worried. I haven't told anyone, though."

Rogue had been sitting stiffly at the table, fists clenched and red on black eyes blazing. Now she sagged and looked away, all the anger draining out of her.

"Ah was too ashamed ta say it," she admitted in a whisper.

"Why? Everyone here knows how much you want kids."

"Yes, but kids with a father, an' a weddin' band on mah finger." She looked at her engagement ring. She hadn't taken it off. Now she did and laid it on the table midway between them. Bobby watched her silently.

Rogue found herself clutching the table for support as she stared at the ring. "Ah nevah told anybody this," she said softly, "but when mah momma had me--mah real momma, not Mystique--she wasn't married. Mah daddy took off when he found out Ah was gonna be born. She used ta tell me, if Ah was any good, Ah wouldn't end up like her."

"Ouch," Bobby muttered. "And I thought MY dad could be mean." He sighed. "What happened to Remy, Rogue?"

She shrank into herself. "He lied ta me an' we had a big fight. The last thing he said ta me was that he hated me."

"Double ouch," Bobby said. He was silent for a long moment. "What are you going to do now?"

"Go ta Disneyland?" She smiled at his abrupt laugh, then sobered again. "Seriously? Ah'm gonna have mah baby an' try ta get on with mah life."

He cocked his head to one side. "Are you going to tell this to the other X-Men?"

She shuddered. "Ah don't think Ah could go through confessions twice. Could ya be a dear an' spread some rumours yaself?"

"Shor' 'nuff, ma'am!" He saluted. "Just call me Rumors R' Us."

Rogue laughed, her foul mood dissipating a little. "Ya nuts, sugah."

"Yup!" he grinned. "But for now, I'm still hungry. Did you know there's a bucket of double-double chocolate fudge ice cream in the freezer?"

"Gimme!" Rogue lunged for the 'fridge.

Regal, dignified, and bored out of his mind, Remy knelt on the steps below the ten Council members and answered the questions they asked him. The questions were all simply phrased, requiring a yes or no answer.

Dey mus' t'ink I be pretty dumb, he thought.

"Defendrez-vous les interets de la guilde?"

That one was easy. The Guild had always come first. It was the same with the X-Men.

"Oui."

"Prononcerez-vous jugement sur ceux qui violent les lois de la Guilde?"

Remy didn't like that one. He'd broken the laws of the Guild himself. He didn't want to have to judge someone else for doing the same. Punishment for both Guilds tended to be the same. Banishment or death.

"Oui," he said with a grimace.

If the Council members noticed his expression, they didn't react. They just kept asking questions, for another six hours. They asked many questions repeatedly, phrased in different ways, but the questions became more and more inane in his mind. Will you use your powers for the good of the Guild, Will you open doors for the eldest of the Guild, Will you honour your relations on Christmas Day. The most asked, and most important question was whether he would do what was best for the families. Even before duty to the Guild, the Clan came first. The Guild only existed to serve it.

"Soumettrez-vous vous-meme devant la volonte du conseil et l'y obeiriez-vous?"

Remy barely heard that one, any more than he had the last thirty. He'd been kneeling here for seven hours and he was sure the Council knew his attention was drifting.

"Oui."

A murmur ran through the crowd. Dey mus' be as bored as I am.

Jacques raised his arms, "De questions have been answered, de prince made king. All listen t' de first words of Remy LeBeau, King a' T'ieves."

Remy stood and turned to face the families. They all stared at him, many looking stunned. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Julien, his face smug. It reminded Remy of the look on Julien Beaudreax's face the last time he saw him. It was a little disconcerting to have a hostile council member share the same name as Belladonna's dead psychotic twin brother, but he didn't have time to worry about it. He'd tried to think of a speech without success. Julien obviously wanted him to fail, so that he'd start his reign at a disadvantage. Remy couldn't come up with a speech, but he had thought of something.

"De Council say I gotta make a speech," he told the families, letting his charm powers reflect in his voice. "But I t'ink y'all heard 'nough speeches," He felt the Council fidget behind him. " 'Stead I gonna start de celebration wit' an ol' Cajun 'xpression.

"MAY Y' EAT, SHIT AN' HOWL AT DE MOON!"

The crowd erupted into a cheer that echoed deafeningly in the hall. Remy looked back to smile at the surprised Council.

Dat's one point f' me.

Suddenly, Lapin stepped up and took his arms. "Cousin, I got t' talk t' y," he hissed. "Pardon, Councilmembers."

He led Remy back to the same alcove he'd helped him prepare in, then turned on him.

"Are y' outta y' mind?!" he screeched. "Y' know what y' done?!"

Remy grinned. "Caught de Council off balance."

"Idiot! Y' jus' gave all y' power t' de Council!"

Remy's face turned white. "What?" he whispered.

Lapin shook his head. "Dey suckered y', cousin. De last question asked if y'd obey dem. Y' said yes."

Remy remembered the last question. One of many he hadn't paid attention to. "But--dey can' do dat!"

Lapin looked disgusted. "Yes, dey can. Anyt'ing y' agree to in dat hall be bindin' by Guild law. Didn' you know dat?"

"No, I didn'!" Remy yelled. "I was never s'posed t' be leader. It was goin' t' be Henri!"

"Well, de Council sure took advantage a y' ignorance."

Remy sank into his chair. "What I done?"

"Why, bring peace t' N'awlins, dat's all."

Both men looked as a pretty blonde woman came into the room.

"Bonjour, Remy," she said.

Remy felt his jaw drop open, speechless, as he came face to face with Belladonna Beaudreaux, his wife.

Belladonna Beaudreaux smiled warmly at her husband, savouring the look of shock on his face at seeing her, along with the horror of what he'd done.

Belle had had no idea that was going to happen, but it was a masterful stroke. The Council had bored Remy to distraction, then slipped in the question to trap him. It'd been no wonder Remy was caught, in her opinion. He trusted too easily and he always had trouble identifying his enemies. Belle approved of the manipulation, though. Remy would be harder to control if he were an equal. Besides, it had him very disoriented, open to her own manipulations. Still smiling, she stepped up and held out a glass of wine to him. She knew Remy better than almost anyone and she knew one of his ways of escaping his mistakes.

Even while he gaped at her, Remy took the glass and swallowed about half of it in one gulp. Lapin stood behind him, staring at her stiffly.

"What y' doin' here, Belle?" Remy croaked. "I t'ought de two Guilds were at war."

"We were." She watched him down the rest of the drink. "But de peace be back now dat you are." He looked at her suspiciously and she shrugged. "Y' still my husband, Remy. De symbol of dat restored relationship 'nough t' get us de peace treaty back."

For all his occasional thoughtlessness, Remy was not a stupid man. "You set dis up, didn' you?"

Belle considered a straight lie, but she suspected Remy would know. She also considered using her telepathy to make him forget what he just asked, but she had no doubt his mental shields were formidable. Perhaps the truth would be best.

"I suggested it," she admitted. "When y' father died." She faked sympathy for his wince. "I suggested dat Remy LeBeau be de new Guild head. Wit' de leaders a' both Guilds married t' each other, we b'come family an' de feud has an excuse t' end."

"You know "bout what de Council pulled?" Lapin growled.

Being civil to this slimy thief was an effort, but she did it. "Non. I didn' even know dey take m' advice 'til I invited here t'night."

Lapin looked suspicious, but Remy sighed. "Maybe. Don' see how it do you any good, other dan revenge."

"I don' got no reason t' be gettin' back at you, Remy."

"Non?" he spat. "Funny t'ing t' say, considerin' de last time I saw y', y' tried t' have me an' Rogue killed, an' her friend Cody did die."

"I was mad at you. I'm not now."

He snorted in derision. "An' what if I still mad at you? I could leave right now." His eyes showed he meant it.

Belle hesitated. He could. He could leave her, abdicate his throne and run back to his little X-friends. Provided he had the balls to do it.

"Remy," she said slowly, reassuringly. "We both know how important de peace be. We both raised f' it. De second y' left las' time, it fell apart. I need y' t' stay, t' keep any more a' de families from dyin'. I can' do it by myself." The admittance of any kind of weakness made her skin crawl, but the Cajun seemed to believe it. The glass of alcohol he'd downed, mixed with the powder she'd put in it, also seemed to help.

"I don' wan' any more deaths either," he replied.

Belle smiled and held out a hand to her husband. "Walk wit' me, chere. We got a lot t' discuss." She glanced at Lapin. "In private."

Lapin frowned, but he didn't follow them as they walked out of the room.

The halls and rooms of the labyrinth still had people in them, though most had gone up to the surface, and Remy and Belle mingled as they walked. Waiters with trays of drinks circulated everywhere and she subtly made sure Remy always had a drink in his hand. He didn't really drink that much in total, but the drug she'd slipped him lowered his resistance, making the alcohol much more effective at lowering his inhibitions. She was careful not to get him too drunk, though. She still needed something from him tonight.

Belle hadn't been in the labyrinth since her wedding, and she hadn't had much chance to look around. She did now, making mental notes as she did so. She had no idea where she was, since she'd been blindfolded when she came in, but the information might still be useful.

A few people approached her and Remy, to congratulate him, and she played the role of the dignified happy wife, but used her psionics to keep most of them away. She hated small talk.

Finally, they reached a part of the labyrinth where no one else seemed to be. The carved stone walls were dark and dirty, and they vibrated along with a low, loud throbbing sound.

"Is dis de way t' de machines dat keep de water out?" She had to yell to ask.

Remy looked up blearily. He was still sober enough to walk straight, but his face was somber. He'd always been a depressing drunk.

"Oui," he said shortly and grimaced, obviously flashing back to the last time he said that word.

"Come on, I wan' t' see it." She hurried forward, dragging him behind her.

The passageway began to slope downward, the walls filthy. The smell of oil was very strong.

I wonder what a match do down here? She decided not to find out, though she supposed as a suicide mission, it would be a wonderful way to get rid of the Thieves.

The passage ended at a door, and she went through it into a massive room so large three of the Great Halls could fit into it. She couldn't see much due to the lack of light, but she caught glimpses of huge gears and pistons. The sound was deafening and it was actually raining in the room.

Remy grabbed her arm and yanked her through another door. He closed it and the sound was cut off, though the floor and walls still vibrated. The soundproofing was good though.

"Ow," Remy muttered, rubbing his ears.

Belle looked around at the room. It was cluttered with a desk, boxes, tools, bits of rope, and a rickety cot. Apparently it was the room of whoever was supposed to watch the machinery, though they were obviously at the celebration now.

"How romantic," she said softly.

Remy glanced at her and looked away. "Ain' interested."

Belle frowned. She didn't have time for his reluctance. This had to happen tonight or all her plans were ruined.

Slowly, she walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Remy, I wan' you t' make love t' me."

He brushed her hand off. "I said I ain' interested."

Belle resisted the urge to sucker punch him in the kidneys. When they were both teenagers, he'd hear those words and throw himself at her, no matter where they were. He'd once rutted her in broad daylight in the back of her father's limo, while Marius was talking to the driver outside. She'd had to bite into his shoulder to keep from screaming and he still carried the scar.

"Remy, it's duty. We never got de chance t' consummate our marriage like we s'posed to." He turned to look at her, his eyes slightly glazed from drinking and drug. "For de treaty t' be absolute, y' have t' give me an heir."

He gaped at her in total surprise and she took the opportunity to nudge him backwards towards the bed. The back of his knees hit the edge and she pushed him down to sit on it it.

"B-but--"

The drug was really hitting him now, charged by the release of hormones his surprise brought. It was a nice drug, and incredibly versatile. Remy would remember everything, but never realize how he was being influenced.

Too bad the Benefactress hadn't given her more.

Remy was reeling a bit, so she pushed him flat. Grabbing some rope off the floor, she tied him spreadeagled to the bed.

"I don' wan' you t' get away," she chuckled, and kissed him.

Remy just glared at her. "I t'ink you forgot somet'ing, chere. I still got m' clothes on."

"Oh, dat's easy 'enough t' fix," she said sweetly and pulled out a knife.

There was something incredibly erotic about the blade. Belle had very little physical interest in her husband, but the sight of that shiny metal against his pale skin turned her on incredibly. Delicately, she used the knife to slice off his clothing, giving a little gasp as each item came free. They'd played at bondage before, but she'd never been in so much control before. She could kill Remy if she wanted and he knew it. She was breathing hard by the time the last piece of his clothing came off.

Remy smiled at her. "Tol' y' I wasn' interested."

Belle almost gutted him. Calm down, she told herself stermly. 'Member how de drug work.

The drug had one more effect, that of amplifying libido. But, just as with the drink and surprise, it had to be triggered by something. This time the trigger was basic human lust. She'd forgotten that Remy didn't enjoy bondage. Nor did he like knives. He did, however, like reminiscing.

"Do y' remember de first time we made love?" she asked him as she slowly pulled off her clothes. "It was my 14th birthday an' my parents threw a big party f' me." She slipped off her gloves and shoes. "I was wearin' a white dress an' someone spilled punch on it. I can' 'member who." Her blouse followed the gloves. "I wen' upstairs an' you were dere, hidin' in my closet. Y'd brought me a bracelet for my present." Delicately, she unbuttoned her pants and stepped out of them, one leg at a time. "I kissed you t' t'ank you for my gift an' you asked if I wan'ed a real present. I t'ink you were jokin', but I said yes." She all but ripped her hose off. "So there we were. I was kneelin' on m' knees an' elbows on de bed, drippin' de bars a' my headboard wit' both hands. I only taken m' shoes an' panties off 'cause I was afraid m' father would walk in on us. You'd pushed de skirt a' my dress over my head like a tent. I couldn't see anyt'ing, but I could feel you back dere, thrusting in over an' over an' over an' I was cryin' an' gaspin' 'cause it hurt so much an' it felt so good an' I never wan'ed it t' end." She took off her bra. "Do y' "member what I kept sayin'?"

"Oh, God, oh, yes," he murmured.

"Oh, God, oh, yes," she whispered as she took off her panties and stood before him, completely nude. "I wanted t' scream it. Never could wear de dress again. T'rew it out 'fore de maid found de blood stain." She glanced at him to see he was fully erect. "It was de best sex I ever had."

"Sex is all it was. Sex all we ever had 'tween us."

She shrugged and knelt on the bed, straddling him and manuvering herself so that the head of his penis pressed against her vagina. The touch of it sent a jolt through her. She'd been aroused by the memory, too, even more than she was already.

"Don' de dis," he pleaded. "I promised Rogue."

"Y' swore t' serve de Guild. De Guild wants y' son."

She pressed down, and he slid into her as easily as her knife into a victim. Immediately, the fire began to build inside Belle's body, and as she rode him, unconsciously screaming, "Oh, God, oh, yes!" over and over, she realized that this was now the best sex she'd ever had, and she'd only needed to lie to him once.

The white dress still existed, as a trophy and as proof to her friends that she had indeed managed to lose her virginity on the designated day, just as they'd dared her.

Yawning, Rogue walked out of her room, rubbing her eyes. She'd moved back into Gambit's room, having first removed and replaced everything in there, but she hadn't slept well. She'd spent all night dreaming of dragons and earthquakes, accompanied by a feeling of being restrained, and now she had a headache.

She turned to head for the kitchen and started as she came nose to chest with Bishop.

Bishop looked down at her intently. "Rogue, I understand you are with child by my father. You will permit me the honour of assisting you during the birth."

Rogue blinked. "Ya want ta be mah Lamaze coach?"

"Indeed."

Rogue had a brief realization that she had two choices--laugh or accept his offer. She smiled. "Sure thing, sugah."

He nodded soberly. "Thank you."

Rogue started back towards the kitchen, Bishop right on her heels. Rogue glanced back at him.

"Y'know, sugah, Ah'm not gonna have th' baby right now."

His eyes brooked no argument. "Your condition is delicate. In the X.S.E., a pregnant woman isn't into allowed into front line combat."

"Well, Ah'm not in the X.S.E. an' we ain't in front line combat."

"We're the X-Men. That could change without warning."

Rogue opened her mouth to argue with him, then shut it. He had a point.

"Ya gonna stick right by me for th' next nine months, ain't ya?"

"Yes."

"Cool. Ya can make me breakfast."

Rogue stared at her profile, trying to see if her belly was bulging at all.

"It's only been a month, Rogue. Given how good your health is, you might not show for another four months."

Rogue smiled at Jean. "Ah guess that'll save me on clothes bills for a while."

Jean chuckled. "Have you thought of a name?"

"Ah was thinkin' maybe Cody for a boy." She sighed. "Remy liked Angelique for a girl. Or maybe Renee. Ah don't like that one much though. Too french."

Jean regarded her friend. Rogue had been very quiet since she came back. The baby made her happy, of course, but it always reminded her of Remy. Jean knew what Bobby had said, that Remy left her right after she told him she was going to have her baby, but Jean was sure she hadn't heard the whole story. Remy was many things, but he didn't strike Jean as someone who would abandon his pregnant fiance.

"Do you want to talk about it yet?" she asked softly.

Rogue put her hand on her belly, staring down at it. Her lip twisted, and instead of speaking, she opened her mind to her.

Jean blinked in surprise, then took the invitation and dipped in.

She saw the trip Remy and Rogue took to reach their new home and their success at getting to know their neighbours. Bertha-Sue?!

She watched Rogue get a job and be scolded by her mother for the rigidity of her dreams. She lived the episode with the burglar though Rogue's eyes and felt the joy of realizing she was pregnant, a joy Jean very much wanted to feel for herself. Then she felt Rogue's pain and anger when she realized Remy had been lying to her and experienced their fight, right before Remy left with his family.

Jean leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples as the link faded.

"See now?" Rogue asked.

"... yes."

Rogue sighed, pushing her auburn curls out of her face. "Ah wish Ah'd realized what kinda man he was b'fore Ah got inta this mess." She headed for the door. "Ah better get movin' if Ah'm gonna make mah doctor's appointment. Comin', James?" she called as she vanished down the hall. A moment later, Bishop went by after her.

Jean sat alone for a few minutes, debating what she should do. FInally, she rose and went through the mansion, then out one of the back doors into the garden. It was raining outside, but a thin telepathic shield kept her dry.

Quietly, she walked across the grass, levitated over a rose bush, and settled down next to Storm, who was kneeling in the dirt, pulling weeds and murmuring softly to them. She was as dry as Jean, her powers letting her part the rain so it fell on either side of her. In fact, for all Ororo's deep, spiritual connection to nature in all its forms, Jean rarely saw her wet.

"Good morning, Jean," Ororo said. "Have you come to help me weed? The garden sorely needs it. I am afraid I have been very neglectful of late."

Obediently, Jean settled down beside her on a carpet of telepathic force that floated an inch above the ground. Then she started to mentally twitch the weeds out.

The two women worked quietly for several minutes, enjoying the simple pleasure of making it easier for beautiful plants to grow.

"Is there anything you wished to speak with me about?" Ororo asked her at last.

Jean looked at her friend. Storm's pure white hair glowed in the drizzle against her chocolate brown skin. Storm glanced back at her out of blue cat-like eyes. "Well?"

"Ororo, do you miss Remy?"

Storm smiled. "Of course I do. He is my friend. You are not in agreement?"

Jean sighed and leaned back, twiddling her thumbs idly. "I suppose. He certainly brought life to this mansion."

"He did indeed."

The telepath bowed her head. "But I decided I must have been wrong in supporting him all those times when I heard he'd abandoned Rogue and the baby."

Storm gently adjusted a plant which was listing to one side. "I will never believe that. I have seen the light which shines in his eyes when he looks upon a child. I have seen how he looked at me when I was in the form of one. Part of him still sees me that way. He would not abandon any little one of his own body."

"I think you may be right." Jean bit her lip. "I talked to Rogue today, and she finally showed me what really happened. She's still convinced she's right, but I think his not being here is as much her fault as his. Maybe more." She met Ororo gaze for gaze. "See for yourself," she told her and showed her the memories Rogue had given her.

Storm was silent until well after the memories ended, though the rain intensified around them.

"Rogue has always wanted a perfect life so badly." Storm laid her trowel down. "That need is a basic part of her soul. It is no surprise she attempted to bring Remy into it."

"And no surprise he didn't fit."

"Nooo... those poor children. Why is it, even when we X-Men are in love, we make a mess of our lives?"

"I don't know." Jean ran a hand through her hair. "What should we do? Confront her?"

Storm considered that a moment. "No, confronting her when she is not willing to listen to reason will only be counterproductive. We need to give her time to come to the realization that she is wrong by herself."

"And hope that Remy doesn't need the X-Men in the meantime."

"Or if he does, that he will think to call us."

Jean sighed. "Think he will?"

"I pray that he will, Jean. Every day."

Gambit couldn't sleep. Being tired wasn't enough, nor was being more than a little bit drunk. Even tricks he'd learned to let him catch brief naps in the middle of long battles couldn't help him drift away. Lying alone in the great bed in the master bedroom of Belladonna's mansion, he considered sleeping pills, but decided they wouldn't mix well with the alcohol.

Giving up on sleep, the Cajun sat up and looked around the bedroom, not bothering to turn on a light. It was massive and opulant, more like a showroom than a room people actually used. The bed he lay in was big enough for a dozen people, a canopy overhead with rich green satin curtains tied back with silken cords. Lacy mosquito netting hung over it all. The pillars of the bed were handcarved and stained a rich dark brown. The bedcoverings were silk, as were his pyjamas.

Quietly, Remy got out of bed and walked to the french doors that led onto the balcony. The rest of the room was as richly done as the bed, though a trifle too rich for the tastes Remy acquired while living with the X-Men. Gold and green were dominant, as Belladonna's favourite colours. The gold was real, though, and Remy made his way out onto the balcony past a collection of artwork and furniture that was worth millions.

In all the connected rooms that made up Belladonna's apartment, from sitting area to sleeping to onsuite to study, there was only one thing other than his clothes that belonged to Remy. He ignored it for the moment and stepped to the edge of the balcony.

The grounds of the antebellum plantation of the Assassins stretched out below him, filled with a maze of carefully pruned hedges that formed a geometric shape pleasing to Belladonna's eye. When Remy was last at this mansion, there'd been no maze. Belladonna must have put it in after her father's death.

Still, the gardens were beautiful in their way and close enough to the bayous that he could smell the decay and life that wafted from them and see the tops of the great trees they nourished and killed. He could also sense the animals and insects that moved in the bayou, just as he did the Assassins who guarded the grounds.

The Thieves Council hadn't been impressed that he moved into his wife's home. Lapin had called it a sign of weakness. But Remy believed it was the right thing to do. A marriage meant nothing if the spouses wouldn't even live together, and he knew Belle would never move to his house in the garden district. So he came with her. He called it compromise. His family called it caving in.

Not that it mattered, since he'd given up all his power to the Council. He was just a figurehead, put there to sign the documents they put before him and to look good. He had no actual say in whether or not to sign anything.

He'd tried to, during his first meeting. He'd stood before them, all ten men looking up at him expectantly, if not respectfully.

"For t'ree hun'red years," he'd told them. "De Council an' de Guild been bowin' an' scrapin' t' an External."

At the far end of the table, one of the Councilmembers had stood and left.

"Candra is no friend of de Guilds, either T'ief or Assassin. She play us off one 'nother like pawns on a chess board."

Two more Councilmembers left then.

Remy had hesitated a moment, and his uncertainty had begun to show in his voice. "Uh, she don' care 'bout us. We tools, dat's all."

Four men had departed as one, silently.

Remy had begun to sweat. "So long as we let Candra hold de Elixer of Life over our heads, we can' ever break free a her control."

Julien had a scowl on his face as he stormed out.

"We gotta tell her we ain' gonna, uh-"

Marius left.

Remy had found himself looking at Jacque hopelessly. "We can' be her slaves no more."

Jacque had only smiled sadly as he followed the others.

Remy sighed, leaning on the ironwrought railing and letting the night breeze blow through his long, reddish brown hair. For all his righteousness and all his Charm, he hadn't been able to sway any of them, and his cheeks burned with the embarrassment of being left there.

Sadly, the mutant turned and went back into the mansion. The night air hadn't cleared his head at all and almost against his will, he found his gaze turning to the one object in the room which belonged to him.

It was the Tithing Box given to him by his sponsor, Henri, upon his final acceptance into the Guild. It was something he'd worked close to eight years to receive.

It wasn't actually a box, but a chest six feet long and four feet deep, individually crafted to suit his personality.

It was mainly made of a rich, brown wood, the edges and lid joined by burnished copper that gleamed even in the dim light, though bits of it were beginning to go dim with tarnish. He'd left it behind when he was exiled.

The wood was unmarred, though. He'd seen boxes covered with carvings, as well as ones in every wood or metal known, or ivory and stone, many covered in gold and precious gems.

He liked that his was plain, revealing nothing, the only decoration that of a metal ace of spades that served as the latch. He liked the way the wood felt smooth under his sensitive fingers.

The Tithe Boxes existed for one reason. When a thief passed the initiation test and was accepted into the Guild, they would receive a Tithe Box, which they would then proceed to fill with money, gems, statues, jewelery and the like. What was placed in the box didn't matter, so long as it was valuable. Then, every seven years, the Tithe Collector would come, to bring the Elixer of Life to the Guild. How much he gave depended directly upon how much Tithe was given, so those who didn't fill their boxes didn't get their share. There were thieves who'd been in the Guild decades without ever tasting the Elixer, for a person needed to steal an average of one million dollars worth of merchandise or money to fill their box to satisfaction.

Remy opened his box slowly, exposing a satin lining so blue it was almost black. He'd only had his box four months when he was banished, so there was only one thing in it. Carefully, he pulled it out.

It was a necklace. L'Etroile Du Tricherie. The Cheating Star. He'd stolen it as part of his initiation, which immediately made it a part of his tithe. It'd been his first truly professional pinch, if one could call it that. He'd slept with the owner to get it, a woman who'd pulled the same trick on the original owner to get it herself. That should have been the end of it, but Sabretooth got involved and the woman wound up dead. It wasn't until that moment that Remy realized the profession he'd chosen wasn't a game.

Remy sighed as he laid the necklace back in the box. He hated himself for how he'd betrayed that poor woman, who he'd seduced and left her. He'd vowed to never do that to any woman who truly loved him again, but of course he had. Rogue was alone and pregnant because he'd been too selfish to just be what she wanted.

Remy looked at the phone. He was too deeply mixed into the politics of both Guilds to go back to her, but he wanted to say he was sorry so badly. Providing she'd listen.

Before he could change his mind, Gambit picked up the receiver and dialed the number for their house. Immediately, he got a message saying the number was disconnected. He stared at the phone.

"You go back t' de X-Men, chere?" He asked softly. It'd be just like her to do so. Remy put the phone back down. He didn't want to take the risk of who might answer it at the mansion. There were too many people who didn't like him there, and he was already surrounded by enough animosity.

Instead, Remy lay down on the bed and tried to reach out to her, to feel what she was feeling through the Gestalt link they shared. Nothing happened for several long minutes, then a hint of magnolias came to him. He inhaled deeply. That was the aroma Rogue used to scent her room. He drifted closer and felt the soft mattress under him harden, his silk pyjamas becoming a cotton t-shirt. His breathing and heartbeat slowed, to match her rhythm.

Remy closed his eyes and slept, matched body to body with Rogue, so far away. Slowly, his dreams began to mirror hers.

Abruptly, Remy slammed awake, disoriented as his body attempted to switch back to its natural patterns. Sitting up, he focused and saw Belladonna cross the room to the onsuite.

Remy groaned, falling back in the bed. He didn't want to deal with her right now. They shared the same bed, but the marriage was just a formality. He and Belle had no real emotions toward one another, and in the month they'd been sleeping together, they hadn't touched each other once. Remy didn't want to because he was still loyal to Rogue and he resented the way she'd fucked him in the labyrinth. Fucking was the only way he could describe it. It hadn't been anything resembling healthy sex and it definately wasn't love. Rape was closer.

Belle seemed amused by his reluctance to touch her, but otherwise didn't care. She hadn't needed him after that night anyway.

All de years we fool around wit'out any protection an' I get her pregnant in thirty seconds flat. Mon dieu!

The baby was just one more tie binding him to the Guilds.

What 'bout Rogue's baby?

Remy closed his eyes in pain. Rogue's child was the one he wanted, but he couldn't do anything for it other than ensure that it and Rogue never needed money. He certainly couldn't be the father to it he longed to be.

There was a polite knock at the door and Remy sat up again as a familiar black woman with her hair in dreadlocks came in.

"Tante Mattie?"

Tante smiled at him lovingly. "Jus' you go back t' sleep, chile. Dis don' concern you." She vanished into the onsuite.

What de-? Curious, Remy got up and followed her.

The shower was on in the onsuite, Belladonna's clothing and armour scattered across the floor. Belle stood under the spray, wincing as she washed a long, bloody groove across the side of her ribcage, right under one of the circular ridges the Assassin Elixer of Power left on its users.

"You got t' be takin' it easy, chile," Tante was saying as she prepared bandages. "You got de lil' baby t' be t'inkin' of."

"Don' lecture me, woman," Belle snapped. "Jus' do your work."

Quietly, Remy went back into the bedroom and waited for Tante to reappear twenty minutes later.

"Tante, why you still serve her?" He asked in a whisper. "She try t' have you killed."

Tante smiled and patted his cheek. "I could ask why you share her bed. I be neutral, Remy. I serve de Guilds, not de individuals." Her smile broadened. "Though I do got some favourites."

Impulsively, he hugged her. "You be careful, Tante."

"You too, chile."

She left and Remy went back to bed. A few minutes later, Belle joined him and they both lay there, neither one saying anything. Remy tried to relink with Rogue, but with Belle there it eluded him and sleep, when it did finally come, was full of nightmares.

"Why, Rogue, that smells, um, interesting. What are you baking?"

Rogue glared at the back of a package. "Insta-cookies."

"Insta-what?"

"Insta-cookies. They're supposed ta take fifteen minutes ta bake."

Betsy raised an eyebrow. "Have you considered making them from scratch?"

"Ah can't. Ah ate all the flour."

A second eyebrow joined the first.

Storm and Jean walked in. "Good morning," Ororo called. "Did Beast ask you to meet him here as well?"

Betsy frowned. "I hadn't realized Beast was sexist enough to ask us to meet him in the kitchen."

"That was mah fault," Rogue assured her. "I told him if he wanted ta talk ta me t'day it'd have ta be here, 'cause Ah am in the mood ta bake!" She opened the oven door and a billow of black smoke hit her in the face. The fire alarm went off.

The women were in the process of trying to save the cookies when Hank came in, followed by most of the other X-Men.

"Oh, my stars and garters," he said.

"Shut up," Rogue snapped as she yanked the cookie tray out of the oven without benefit of oven mitts and carried it to the sink, the heat causing her thin gloves to burst into flames. The cookies were already on fire. Rogue dumped the whole mess in the sink and Ororo doused it with a tiny rainstorm.

"What happened?" Scott asked.

Jean shut off the oven and closed it while standing well back. "I think I found the problem. Don't you know the difference between Farenheit and Celsius?"

"Ah said shut up."

Logan grinned. "Interestin' recipe ya got there, darlin'."

Rogue turned around to glare at them all. "Anyone who ain't s'posed ta be here who ain't gone in ten seconds is gonna EAT these cookies."

With varying degrees of dignity, the men, with the exception of Hank, fled.

Jean smiled at Beast. "So, Hank, what did you want to tell us?"

"Well--"

Storm waved at the thick smoke. "Perhaps we should move to a different location."

"Good idea."

Quickly, the group went in to the living room, shooed Sam away, and sat down.

"You were saying, Beast?"

Hank nodded. "There is no way to be subtle about this, so I'll be blunt. Until I say otherwise, I want any of you who are using the Pill to stop."

Four women stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"I can't be sure yet if the effect of the Pill will be desired one. I realized this with Rogue."

"Me?"

Hank nodded. "You shouldn't be pregnant, Rogue. You're invulnerable with superstrength. That goes down to a cellular level and includes your sex cells. Remy's sperm just isn't strong enough to pierce the wall of your egg. Of all the X-Men who are here, the only ones who could do it are myself and maybe Wolverine."

Rogue's eyes were huge. "Logan?"

Beast was warming up to his topic. "Yes. Wolverine's healing factor would keep the sperm alive long enough to work its way into the egg, at least until the egg flushed out. I was always amazed at how there aren't hundreds of little Logans around, though there is a fairly simple answer."

"Which is?"

"There are three kinds of sperm," Beast explained. "Those which look for an egg to fertilize, those which block other men's sperm, and those which actively search for alien sperm to eliminate. Given Logan's personality, his sperm is probably too busy looking for other sperm to kill to bother fertilizing anything."

"Well, that's an image Ah'll take ta mah grave," Rogue said with a nauseated grimace.

Jean leaned her chin on her palm. "Beast, what does this have to do with the Pill?"

"In Rogue's case, the Pill weakened the wall of her egg enough for Remy to impregnate her. I have no idea what it's doing to the rest of you."

Storm smiled. "There is no need for concern with me, Beast. I do not use any contraceptives. I will not stand in the way of the Goddess granting me a child."

"Of course, you haven't dated for a year and a half, either," Betsy muttered.

Jean sighed. "Thanks for the warning, Beast. I'm pretty sure the Pill works for me, though."

"I'm not saying it wouldn't. Just that I want to test you all to make sure there aren't any side effects."

"Aw, no!" Rogue groaned. "Not more tests! Ah get enough o' them at th' baby doctor."

Hank smiled. "I think we can wait a while with you, Rogue."

"Ah certainly hope so, sugah."

Zydeco music from a trio of buskers playing in the street called to Remy to dance as he walked down the street. He didn't dance, but he did throw them some coins for their efforts and made his way through the crowds.

It was always busy in the French Quarter of New Orleans, both tourists and locals alike coming to enjoy the music, the food, and the joie de vie of a place which looked and felt the same as it had a hundred years ago.

Remy inhaled deeply as he walked. He'd grown up on these streets, and they still had the power to move him.

"Scratch y' nose if you c'n still hear me," Julien's voice sounded in his ear. Idly, Remy reached up to scratch his nose and adjust his sunglasses. "Good," Julien said. "Now, don' mess dis up."

Remy sighed. Away from the rest of the Council, Julien dropped all pretense of politeness. Remy wished he could tell him off.

He couldn't, though. He was wearing a receiver in his ear so Julien could talk to him, but he couldn't risk responding on the crowded street.

He was out on Guild business. The Guild did arrange their own work, but most of the time they were hired for jobs all over the world. Plain theft, industrial espionage, sabotage--they would do anything but murder. Potential employers had to go to the Assassins Guild for that. Still, for what they did do, they were paid very well, for the New Orleans Thieves Guild was the best in the world.

Remy was out now to meet with someone who wanted to hire the Guild. Tradition had it so the Guild Master was the one who went to these meetings, or else Julien would undoubtedly have come instead of him. He would decide if the job was worth it, then set a price which was nonnegotiable and paid in full before any work was done. The Guild could get away with that because of its reputation. Once the Guild members accepted a job, they completed it.

Remy reached the meeting place, a small cafe, and manuvered his way among the tables, ignoring the admiring looks of women as he passed. He was so used to people watching him that it barely registered anymore.

"De pigeon be in de far corner," Julien told him.

Remy nodded slightly. The cafe was sparsely crowded with tourists and he could see his contact in the corner, sitting with his back to the door. Remy was going to have to sit with his back to the wall and hemmed in on two sides by the table and a big plant. He immediately didn't like the situation.

"Amateurs," Julien muttered. "Means we c'n charge him extra."

Remy grimaced and nodded slightly to the owner of the cafe. He was a middleaged man and family, though not a member of the Guild. The man nodded back and Remy walked up to his contact.

"M'sieur Parker? I believe we have an appointment?"

Parker looked up and sputtered in surprise. "You're just a kid!"

Remy groaned inwardly. He'd shaved this morning and combined with his short, curly wig and the prosthetics that altered his features, he looked five years younger than he was. "Does dat matter?"

Parker frowned as the Cajun sat down across from him. "I was led to believe I'd be meeting with the leader of this organization."

"And you are. If you don' like it, I c'n leave now." He made as if to depart.

"Don' you go nowhere, Remy!" Julien cried in his ear.

"No, no, that's all right, I apologize." Remy sank back into his seat. Parker took a deep breath. "I need your organization to do something for my employer."

Remy glanced around, but no one was within hearing range, so he leaned against the table, his chin on his palm. "I'm listenin'." He didn't ask who the man's employer was. He didn't want to know. More, that would be rude.

Parker looked around warily as well, then pulled a photograph out of his pocket and handed it to him, acting as though it was just a normal picture. He was so green he almost made the thief wince.

Remy looked at the picture. It was of a painting, an old one by the look of it. "A paintin'," he said softly, for Julien's benefit.

Parker nodded. "Yes. Look, I, uh, what should I call you? I wasn't given a name."

Remy smiled. "Call me Julien." Julien sputtered in rage over the transceiver.

"Okay, Julien." Parker seemed to relax a bit. "My employer has always wanted to acquire that particular painting."

"But it not for sale, neh?"

"No, it's not. But we heard that your organization is very good at. .. acquiring things which are normally not available."

Remy grinned. A delicate way of saying STEAL. "We might be. Where dis partic'lar paintin' located?"

"In the New Orleans Museum."

"Tell him $100,000 for the job," Julien ordered.

Remy opened his mouth and paused, not sure why. Something felt odd about this, wrong somehow. Suddenly he felt as though a spotlight were on him, though, except for Parker, no one was paying any attention to him at all.

"Tell him!" Julien snapped.

Remy shook the feeling away. "Uh, $100,000 for de paintin', payable before we move."

Parker frowned. "How can I be sure you won't run away with the money?"

"You know our rep'tation or you not be here. You get me de money, I get you de paintin'."

Parker passes him a bag under the table. "This should cover some of it."

Remy accepted the bag and looked into it while holding it under the level of the table. A quick glance estimated there was $25,000 in the bag.

"I wan' de rest before de end of de week," he began.

The movement was instantaneous. Everyone in the cafe moved at once, pulling guns and pointing them at him. Parker flashed a badge.

"You are under arrest on charges of conspiracy to commit theft."

"Merde!" Julien swore.

Remy was so stunned he could only sit there with his jaw hanging open. Thoughts of what would happen ran through his mind. He was caught redhanded, and as a mutant, he wouldn't go to a normal jail. He'd go to the Vault, a penitentiary designed to hold superbeings. He'd never be able to escape from there. He'd be in his cell for his entire imprisonment, where his powers could be negated. His Guild and family would be shamed. The X-Men would find out. Rogue would find out.

Parker came around the table to cuff him. "Sorry, kid, but you brought this on yourself. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right--"

"Non!" Remy cried and kicked out at him. Parker grunted and fell, unfortunately blocking the path around the table.

"Freeze!" Someone yelled.

Remy ignored him. There was no way in hell he was going to jail. Still holding the bag of money, he started to leap over the table, his free hand glowing as he began to drop a card down his sleeve into it.

They opened fire. Remy saw the six bullets heading toward him and sensed their movement. But caught in the corner as he was, he had nowhere to dodge to.

All six bullets hit. Arms, leg, stomach, sternum, and heart. All the breath whoofed out of Remy as he flew backwards to crash painfully into the wall.

For some reason, he thought of Scott. If this was a Danger Room sequence, Cyclops would be screaming at him now for being so stupid. He grinned. At least he didn't have to put up with that this time.

Remy stood with his back against the wall for an instant, then began to slide sideways. He tried to catch himself, of course, but his body didn't seem to be working right. He crashed to the ground and into darkness.

"REMY!!!!!" Rogue screamed at the top of her lungs.

Immediately, Bishop was at her side. "What is it?"

Rogue stared up at him through her shock. "Ah can feel him! He's been shot!"

Bishop reeled back as Rogue closed her eyes, forgetting her anger with the Cajun as she instinctively offered him all the strength she had.

"Damn it all!" Parker swore. "You didn't have to shoot him!"

"He's some kinda mutie, Detective. I saw his hand start to glow."

"I saw it, too."

Parker swore again, pushing the table out of the way as sirens sounded outside, police cars which had been waiting in reserve swooping in to cordon off the street. The cafe owner was standing by the till with a look of shock on his face. He'd have to be taken in for questioning, but Parker doubted they'd get anything useful out of him.

Parker had been working for three years to get close enough to bust open the New Orleans Thieves Guild, and even now he only had rumours about it. One of the largest was that all members of the Guild came from the same ten families which made up the reclusive LeBeau Clan. The head of the clan, Jean-Luc, had died recently and the leadership of the clan went to his youngest son, a boy the police didn't even have a name for, though there were whispers that he was a mutant. Parker suspected that Jean-Luc had been head of the Guild as well, which would mean his son should be the new leader, but Parker hadn't believed it until he saw the kid. If they'd been able to take him in and get a confession out of him, they'd have been able to stop the Guild for good. Now they were back to Square One and worse, because the Guild would be expecting them.

The kid was lying crumpled in a heap on his side, still clutching the bag handle in one hand. A small receiver which had been in his ear lay beside him and his curly hair was askew as if it were a wig. Parker had seen him take six hits, three of them fatal, but he put a hand to his throat anyway.

A slow, steady pulse met his fingers.

"Call an ambulance!" he yelled. "He's still alive!"

Praying under his breath, he rolled the kid onto his back. If they could keep him from dying---There was no blood.

Parker blinked. He could see the entry holes through his clothes, but he wasn't bleeding. That made no sense. The boy was wearing a t-shirt and a thin jacket. There was no way he could fit Kevlar on under that, and a vest wouldn't protect his arms and legs anyway. Quickly, Parker grabbed his t-shirt and ripped it open.

He was wearing some kind of black body suit, with fuschia stripes running horizontally up the outside of the bit of sleeve he could see. It was thin and formfitting, and Parker never would have believed it could stop a bullet if he couldn't see six of them sticking out of the material.

"What the hell?"

At the sound of his voice, the boy's eyes snapped open and Parker realized in an instant that his detectives had been right to shoot. This kid was definitely a mutant and his hands did glow.

Before the Detective could pull a gun, Remy kicked out to send him flying, then rolled to his feet and threw the bag--all before the officers could react.

"Duck!" he yelled to the cafe owner.

The man threw himself to one side as the bag, charged with kinetic energy, exploded. Cops screamed in pain and fear, and he threw himself at the plate glass window at the front of the cafe.

It hurt to breathe, let alone move, but Remy had no choice. The unstable molecules of his X-Men uniform were able to stop most bullets and shrapnel, but six high-powered bullets coming at him from less than twenty feet away were going to hurt. In fact, he was lucky the shock hadn't killed him.

I am gonna kill Julien for dis, he thought.

The glass shattered around him, and he hit the ground and rolled. The street looked like it was filled with cops and police cars. Rolling to his feet, he threw charged cards, blowing up one of the cruisers.

"Fire!" somebody yelled.

Remy sensed the bullets coming, at least twenty of them, but this time he had room to manuever. He spun and rolled, then backflipped through a storm of bullets. Halfway through one flip, he charged and threw another set of cards. Cops ducked, yelling, and he took the opportunity to vault over a car and bolt down an alley on the other side of the street.

Immediately, he could sense the cops chasing after him. He'd scouted the alley as a possible escape route earlier, but as he ran down the twisting alley, he could sense that they already had the other end blocked off.

Merde...

"Julien, can you hear me?" he called, tapping his receiver. There was no response. "Coward."

There was a fire escape ladder on one wall, about twelve feet up. Muttering to himself, Remy leaped for it, and to his own surprise, caught it about halfway up.

"Whoo, some jump."

Quickly, he scrambled up the ladder, going onto the roof as the cops raced up below.

Remy raced across the roof and leaped over to the next building. Fortunately, most of the buildings in the French Quarter were set close together, because his chest was starting to hurt severely.

Then he sensed a large, airborne object coming. A helicopter. Police cars were already pacing him along the ground.

Dis jus' isn' my day.

"STOP AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP. YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!"

Sheeah, right.

Remy raced across another roof, leaped down onto a lower one, ran across it and skidded to an abrupt halt. There was a courtyard below, filled with musicians and dancers, and the nearest building was 30 feet away. Even he couldn't jump that far.

"SURRENDER NOW!" the cop in the helicopter called. Police began to fill the square below and he could sense them coming up the stairs inside the building.

Desperately, Remy scanned the square for anything he could use to cross it. The best he could come up with was a pole with a small platform on top. If he could get that far, he might be able to jump the rest of the way, though he wouldn't have the benefit of a running start.

Remy ran to the far end of the roof, turned and sprinted for the edge. People below screamed as he leaped into mid-air. A second later, he landed in a crouch on top of the pole, perfectly balanced. Cops ran to intercept him.

Well, I can' stay here. Remy looked towards the building he wanted to reach, and swallowed. It was a lot farther than he'd thought. After a quick glance at the cops below him, he breathed a prayer to the Saint and jumped.

He almost made it. His body stretched out to extend his leap, but still he came a few feet short.

As he fell, the Cajun twisted and kicked at the wall, trying desperately to get enough leverage to arc himself towards a fountain in the square as opposed to hard cobblestones.

He kicked off harder than he'd expected. He shot right across the square to slam back first into the building he'd first jumped from.

What de HELL?!

He hovered there, floating at least fifteen feet above the ground.

"I--I--I--I--wow."

There were a few cops starting to take aim, so Remy made a run for it. Still, for all his grace on the ground, he'd never flown before. He almost killed himself in the first five seconds, tumbling towards the helicopter's rotors. Yelling, he scrabbled at the air, and the next thing he knew, he was rocketing upwards at superspeed, until New Orleans was just a miniaturized copy below him and cloud vapour wet his clothes.

Remy stood in mid-air and stared downward, dizzy with vertigo and nausea. He shouldn't be able to do this, and in fact was able to think of only one reason why he could.

"T'ank you, Rogue," he said softly.

Carefully, Hank forwarded the film frame by frame, using a computer to enhance the picture.

Cyclops leaned over his shoulder. "Is it Gambit?"

Hank stared at the picture. It was from a tourist's camcorder, a semi-fuzzy shot of a young curly-haired man hovering two stories above a New Orleans streeet. He didn't look like Gambit, but when Hank examined the Sh'iar computer's physiological breakdown...

"It's definitely him. He's wearing a wig and some form of prosthetic mask to hide his features, though."

Scott frowned. "How is he flying?" He turned to look at a young woman sitting on a table by the door. "Rogue?"

"Why should Ah know? Ah haven't seen th' man in four months."

"Which may be the point." Hank swiveled his chair around. "We know that the Gestalt link between them gets stronger when they're apart. They've been separated now twice as long as ever before." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I'd already suspected the Gestalt was evolving. This proves that it is."

This was worlds away from the psychic link Scott had with Jean. He tried to imagine suddenly having access to her powers and shook himself. "So, is this a permanent power boost?"

Beast shook his head. "From what Rogue told me, I'd say that the Gestalt let him tap into her powers temporarily. Or she lent them to him, which seems more accurate, considering the sensation of 'giving' she described when Remy reportedly got into trouble."

Rogue shrugged. "So it seemed like th' thing ta do. If Ah'd realized what was going on, Ah woulda let him get busted. He doesn't mean anything ta me."

Scott looked pointedly at the distinct swell of Rogue's belly.

"Oh, leave me alone," she huffed and stomped out.

Hank took off his glasses. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

Scott hrummfed. "Perhaps." He crossed his arms and looked at the blue-furred mutant. "Have the New Orleans police given any more information?"

"No, only that the 'suspect' eluded arrest and should be considered armed and dangerous. They won't say what they tried to arrest him for."

Scott frowned, a familiar expression on his face. "I wonder how far back he's set human/mutant relations." He moved toward the door. "If you'll excuse me, I have to meet with the Professor to decide what to do about him."

Beast looked up at him. "Do? What needs to be done? He escaped, so he doesn't need the X-Men's help. Or are you planning to incarcerate him for the police yourself?"

Scott frowned. "He broke the law, Hank."

Beast pointed a finger at him. "We don't know the whole story. And we X-Men are rather famous for breaking the law ourselves. Shall we surrender to the police?"

Scott snorted. "Hardly."

"Then don't hold Gambit to standards you're not willing to follow yourself."

A slight smile touched Scott's lips. "Are you becoming my conscience, Hank?"

Hank grineed, putting a hand to his chest extravagantly. "Moi? Why, I am merely the loyal sidekick, extolling wisdom for my leader to hear."

"Especially since I have none of my own."

Hank tsked softly. "Don't put yourself down. Forming opinions of other people is one of the easiest things to do in the world."

"True. But if mutants and humans are going to learn to live in peace, we can't let that happen." He patted his friend on the shoulder and went out the door, leaving the scientist to get back to work.

Rogue was still steaming as she walked out of the mansion, pulling on a backpack of clothes while she tried to shut the door.

"How dare he?" she muttered irritably. "Jerk."

Scott's pointed look at her stomach had pissed her off. So she'd made a mistake. Her excuse was that she'd never been in a relationship before. At least she hadn't gotten involved with a clone. Rogue hesitated. A clone who attempted to take over the world and turn it into Hell, she amended.

Scott was well away from that clone. Rogue wasn't. She could feel her link to Remy in the darkest back corner of her mind. It was there all the time now. An awareness of what his body was feeling, almost of what he was thinking. It infuriated her, that the link was so comfortable and the granting of her powers to him felt so right when she was mad at him. He should be out of her mind like the scum he was and not feel like half her soul.

Suddenly, the door she was trying to lock opened again, and Bishop was standing there, holding a dufflebag and a plasma rifle.

"I assume you are ready to leave?"

Rogue sighed. "Hi, Bishop. Ah thought ya were in th' Danger Room."

The huge man glared down at her. "I was. Fortunately, Bobby informed me of your imminent departure."

"Oh, he did, did he?"

Bobby stuck his head into the open around Bishop, grinning widely. "Hi, Rogue. Another road trip?"

"Bobby, Ah am gonna twist ya head off."

Bobby stepped outside, careful to keep out of arms reach. "You know, you've been awfully moody lately. Must be all the flour you've been eating. That CAN'T be helping your morning sickness any."

Rogue sniffed loudly, crossing her arms. The only good thing about her morning sickness was the fact that Remy shared it. He was probably eating flour, too. The thought almost made her smile.

"What do y'all want?"

Bobby spread his arms. "Why, to come with you."

"Excuse me?"

Bishop drew himself up even straighter. "You are going for your annual visit to Caldecott County. This happens every year at the same time. It is a known event."

She leaned against the porch railing, subtly adjusting her swollen stomach. "So?"

Bishop stepped up to loom over her. "Twice now you have been attacked on these visits. Once by Peter Henry Gyrich and again by Sinister's Marauders. Both times, you were defeated by your enemies."

"They were ambushes," she protested.

Bishop didn't relent. "Both times you were defeated, at full power. Now you are with child. This fact may also be known. You will not be able to protect yourself fully. Therefore, Iceman and I shall accompany you to ensure your safety."

"Sounds good to me," Bobby said.

Rogue remained unconvinced. "Is this some kinda X.S.E. thing? 'Cause if it is, Ah ain't interested."

Bishop was like a statue, except for his lips. "Rogue, you are pregnant with my father's child. I failed to keep one sibling alive. I will not do so with a second."

Rogue glared at him, then relented. "Fine, y'all can come, but no pushin' me around. Bobby, get the car."

"Wahoo!" Bobby ran off.

"Thank you, Rogue," Bishop said quietly.

"Yeah, well, whatevah." Rogue adjusted her stomach again. At least this way she wouldn't have to do any driving.

"Hey, Remy, look! You made de N'Awlins Crimestoppers list!"

"Gee, I feel so proud t'hear dat."

Lapin grinned. "But dey're callin' you a hugely powerful evil mutant dat could destroy de city. De best people call me is a pretty good t'ief."

"Wit' an I.Q. of y' basic pond scum, don' forget dat." Remy shifted uncomfortably. "An' I ain' an evil mutant. I may waver a bit 'tween good an' bad, but I ain' evil. Ouch!"

Lapin laughed at his cousin. "Baby."

"You try gettin' shot from ten feet away an' see how you feel."

"Hold still," Tante ordered as she continued to rub a thick poultice into the huge bruises on Remy's chest.

"It hurts, Tante."

She smiled. "I know, chile. Jus' be patient."

Remy put his head back against the table he lay on. "Dat's easy f' you t' say."

Lapin peered at him. "So tell me, Remy. How you manage t' fly? Y'never been able t' do dat b'fore." Tante glanced at him curiously as well.

Remy sighed. He had some pretty strong suspicions on how he'd been able to do it. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure! I never told no one 'bout de time you smoked de pot--" He blanched under Tante's sudden direct look. "Uh--smoked? I meant burned. Damn my english. He burned a pot a' gumbo. It was very messy." He stepped discreetly out of arms' reach.

Both Remy and Tante glared at him. Then Tante turned that glare on Remy and he grinned. "What?" he asked innocently.

Tante just snorted and rubbed some more poultice on his chest, harder this time. Remy glared at his cousin again as he sucked his breath in. Lapin just winked at him. He'd been getting Remy into trouble for years.

"You were sayin'?" Tante asked.

"Right..."

He told them. He told them of the kiss in Israel, his coma, and the death of his original body. Then of the clone given to him by Mister Sinister. He didn't, however, mention his betrayal of the X-Men for Sinister, his bouts of madness, or the entire episode with Lila Cheney. Most of his time was taken up with explaining the Gestalt, what he understood of how it worked, and what he suspected.

Both Lapin and Tante were fascinated. "So you t'ink dat Rogue lent' you her ability t' fly?"

Remy sat up painfully and began to pull his shirt on over the bandages Tante used to keep the poultice on his bruises. "Seems de only expl'nation t' me."

Lapin shook his head. "Sounds like one incredible woman t' me."

Remy's gaze softened. "She is."

Tante put a hand on his shoulder. "Call her, Remy."

"I can'. She t'inks I be de scum of de earth."

"She will if you don' call her."

Remy hesitated.

"Call her, cousin."

Almost unwillingly, Remy stood and walked over to the phone. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the receiver and dialed.

The phone rang three times before it was answered. "Xavier Institute."

Remy recognized that voice immediately. He could think of lots of people he'd rather have had pick up the phone.

"Bonjour, Warren. May I speak t' Rogue, please?"

"Huh? REMY?!"

Remy rolled his eyes. He'd never had much respect for Archangel. "Who else you know wit' a Cajun accent, homme?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. "Warren? Is she dere?"

"Why should I tell you?"

Remy felt his mouth go dry. "Excuse moi? I wan' t' talk t' her."

"Why? So you can dump on her again?"

"What? I never dump on her!"

"You left her and her baby! What do you call that?"

"But--"

"You're a loser, Cajun, and everybody knows it." He hung up the phone.

Remy stared at the receiver. "But--"

Tante's eyes filled with sorrow. "I so sorry, Remy."

Lapin blinked. "What happened?"

Remy didn't answer. She didn't want him. She really didn't. He'd hoped that time would let her calm down and realize she still loved him, too, and he'd come to believe her lending him her powers was proof she did. Even if he could never return to her side, he wanted her to know he cared, and regretted every harsh word he'd said to her. Even her flaws had dimmed in his mind.

"I guess... I never gon' see my firstborn."

Tante and Lapin both started at that. "What?"

Carefully, Remy laid the receiver back in its cradle, then looked at them over his shoulder. "Rogue be pregnant. She gonna have my baby, jus' two weeks 'fore Belle. Only I don' t'ink she gonna ever let me near it."

"Oh, Remy, I be so sorry. I didn' know." Tante moved toward him, arms outstretched.

"Shit, cousin, I sorry, too."

There was a single, curt knock at the door and Julien came in.

"Get out," he said curtly to Tante and Lapin. Obediently, they retreated.

Remy leaned back against the table, clutching the edges tightly. He wasn't ready to face Julien, especially after that phone call he'd just had. Instead, he wanted to run, just as he'd always run when things got bad. Only now he couldn't. He was the Guild Master, even if only in name, and this was one responsibility he couldn't run from. Not without dishonouring himself, his family, his Guild, and the memory of his father.

Julien glared at him for a long time, until Remy felt like a child caught misbehaving and about to be punished. All the cockiness he normally exuded when he was uncertain or afraid was shriveled up inside him. No one in the Guilds ever stood up to a Council member, especially Julien when he was in a bad mood.

"Where, in de name of Candra," he grated, advancing on him, "do you get off wit' usin' my name wit' dat cop?"

Remy tried to explain himself, but his words would only come out in a whisper. "It was a joke..."

Julien stood right before him. He was shorter than the mutant, but his presence was such that Remy felt as if he were smaller. It was like trying to face down Wolverine.

"A joke. You make a joke 'bout de safety of de Guild, den make your escape so obv'ous dat now we gonna have every law 'forcement agency out t' destroy us, for fear more a us be a goddamn mutant like you!"

Remy tried to regroup. "You de one sent me in dere, t' get busted by a cop."

"Don' try t' pin de blame for y' own mistakes on me, chile! Guild been arrested b'fore. Even Jean-Luc served his time. You do more damage by 'scapin'."

Remy's mind reeled. "But--"

"For you an' for de Council, de most important t'ing in de world is de Guild an' de fam'lies. Fail dem an' you won' deserve de effort Jean-Luc took t' take you off de street." Remy flinched. "You be important only for what y' do for de Clan." He turned to the door. "An' dat ain't very much. Your father y' ain't." It was said with disgust as he slammed the door.

Remy turned and bent over the table, eyes closed as he fought off his reaction. Finally, breathing heavily, he walked over to a cupboard and opened it, taking out a bottle and a glass. Filling it, he downed it as fast as he could, running away in mind if not in body.

Rogue opened her eyes. Remy was drinking again, she could feel it. It was something he'd been doing increasingly of late and it was an effort for her to block it out.

It's none o' mah concern, she told herself, almost convinced. Almost.

Blinking, she looked out the window of the car at the passing scenery, trying not to feel the alcohol sliding down his throat, not to give into the numbing sensation it brought.

Ah'm gettin' sick o' this, she thought and frowned. Maybe sick is th' way ta go.

"Stop th' car."

Bishop glanced at her, then obediently pulled off the highway and stopped. Getting out, he looked around cautiously, weapon in hand, before coming around to open her door. Meanwhile, Bobby hopped out and stretched.

"Boy, is my butt sore."

Rogue stepped out of the car with Bishop' assistance. Her stomach wasn't really big enough to inconvenience her yet, but sometimes it was nice to accept a little help.

"Could y'all wait here foh me?"

Bishop frowned. "This is strategically unsound, Rogue. This area hasn't been swept for enemies."

Rogue laughed, a little shrilly. Remy's drunkeness was getting to her. "Sugah, we are in th' middle o' nowhere. There ain't nobody here."

Bishop's frown spoke volumes, but neither he nor Iceman followed as she walked into the woods.

She didn't go very far, only a few hundred feet, but she was reeling by the end of it.

Remy, ya a moron. Are ya  tryin' ta turn into an alcoholic?

Scooping her hair into a ponytail, she held it back with one hand while she bent over and stuck her finger down her throat.

She threw up, disgorging her breakfast on the mossy forest floor. The sensation travelled along the Gestalt link and she felt Remy throw up as well, ridding himself of the alcohol he'd drunk. Gritting her teeth, Rogue stepped back, fighting to keep the rest of her stomach down while Remy puked.

Serves ya right, she thought.

She felt the Cajun vomit, then curl into a ball and shake, his arms wrapped around himself so tightly she felt like he were holding her. She found herself wondering what had him so depressed but pushed the thought away.

He told me ta mah face that he hated bein' with me. Ah want nothin' more ta do with him.

Still, she sympathized with his pain. A tear trickled down her cheek and she reached up to wipe it off. Her hand brushed dry skin and she felt the Cajun start as his own tears were cleared away. A moment later, Rogue herself started as ghost fingers touched her lips, then traced down her cheek to her neck. Almost against her will, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, imagining he was with her.

The hand kept moving, down her throat and collarbone and across her breast, causing her an involuntary sexual thrill. Then the hand moved to her stomach and spread out over the swell of her belly.

Rogue gasped and opened her eyes, staring down at her middle. She could feel him there, the warmth of his palm, his heart pounding in a rhythm exactly like hers. But the kinethetic sense she'd gained from him said he wasn't there, that she was alone. Without understanding why, she started to cry and invisible fingers brushed at her tears.

"Remy, Remy, goddamn ya!" She sobbed and slapped herself. Remy jerked away in pain, the link between them fading back to its usual bare awareness. Rogue had a brief vision of the link becoming that strong all the time, or stronger.

"No, oh no..." Sobbing, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and flew back to the car, weaving among the trees and crashing through one.

Bishop raced towards her as she came out onto the highway , landing fifty feet north of the car. Bobby was in his iceform, covering the car while watching the woods.

Rogue started walking towards Bishop, sniffing, then felt him slam into her, knocking her to the ground. Holding her down with one hand, he knelt protectively over her and strafed the woods.

"Oh mah God!"

Brilliant white energy pulsed out of the rifle, ripping into the trees. Wood exploded and burned, torn apart as vegetation shredded into a cloud of ash and green. Black smoke and flame blew upwards as birds and animals screamed, trying to escape the sudden hell. In seconds, a one hundred foot patch of forest was destroyed.

"Bishop, stop!" Bobby yelled.

"Bishop, ah'm okay! Ya don't have ta do this, ya crazy man!"

Bishop ignored them both, putting his rifle up as he carefully analyzed the woods. Satisfied at last, he stood and helped Rogue to her feet.

"What were ya doin'?" She cried.

He looked at her calmly. "I will protect you as I deem necessary."

Angry, she yanked away. "Ah don't need protectin'! Ah was jus' a li'l upset is all!" Shivering, she ran to the car and sat in it miserably as Bobby used his powers to douse the fire and Bishop stood sentry. Unfortunately, the ones he was guarding her against were just far enough away that neither she nor Bishop could detect them.

Gingerly, Remy worked his mouth until his jaw popped back into position.

"Whoa," he whispered. "Dat was somet'ing."

Blearily, he looked around. He was sitting on the floor in a corner of the same room Tante had patched him up in. There were two empty wine bottles beside him, their contents, which had been in his stomach, now spread across the floor, along with his last meal.

"Gross."

Unsteadily, he rose to his feet, his head already starting to pound. "Serves me right," he muttered softly.

He was ashamed of himself for not standing up to Julien. Had it been Scott, Xavier or even Logan, he would have just grinned and made some snide comment, or fought if he had to. But the Council had been intimidating him since he was ten years old. He didn't know how to fight them. It was easier to just give in.

Gambit sighed as he went to rinse his mouth out and find a mop. Rogue had been right to slap him. He wasn't the man she'd thought he was. He wasn't the man he wanted to be either.

Parker drove up to the cemetary just past noon. Parking his car, he got out and walked towards the main gate.

It'd been a highly unsuccessful week since 'Julien' escaped. The paperwork and inquires were overwhelming as the press and the department looked for someone to blame. Thousands of dollars in property damage, one cruiser blown up, and a dozen cops with minor injuries. And what had they gotten out of it? Nothing. No suspect, no positive ID, not even a fingerprint. All they had was a small ear receiver that they couldn't trace back to the Guild. They still couldn't even prove it existed.

The detective walked through the wrought iron gate along the winding path into the cemetary. It was a beautiful day and there were a lot of people around, enjoying the ambience, taking pictures or visiting the graves of loved ones.

Parker ignored the tourists with their cameras and stepped respectfully around the mourners. The investigation into the Guild was still on, but he wasn't sure for how much longer. Now that the Guild knew the police were after them, there'd begun to be a lot of discreet yet powerful pressure for the investigation to be dropped entirely. The Chief wasn't sure how much longer she could resist it, especially when all the evidence they had was circumstantial. The LeBeau clan had lived in Louisiana and the other southern states for hundreds of years, and most of them obeyed the law. In fact, fewer of them were convicted criminals than in the average family. The Guild itself was believed to be a legend, with only whispers tying it to the clan. In fact, it wasn't until 'Julien' walked into the cafe that he was sure there was a Guild. Up until then, he'd been running on instinct.

It was instinct that brought Parker out here now. He'd had one of his detectives watch the LeBeau tomb on the theory that someone from the Guild would have to show up sometime. According to that detective, someone had.

Parker stepped off the path and walked across the lush grass. Stopping beside a large tree, he looked around at the tomb.

It was squat and grey, large enough to hold a dozen or more bodies, with the family name on the door and stone carvings of angels above it. A large ornate statue of a cross preceeded the tomb.

A young man knelt on the sundrenched glass before the cross, head bowed and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He was tall and lean, though well built, with long, red-brown hair that reached halfway down his back. The same instinct that had told Parker to pursue the Guild and come here today said that this was Jean-Luc's son, the mutant who'd called himself Julien. He didn't look much older than he had in the cafe, but quite a bit more attractive. Parker decided right then that he would never let his teenage daughter within sight of this guy.

Here he is, the leader of the New Orleans Thieves Guild, and I can't arrest him. He shook his head. I've got corns older than that kid.

As if he'd heard his thoughts, or sensed his movements, the mutant lifted his head and looked at him. Parker gasped. The mutant had been wearing sunglasses in the cafe, so he hadn't seen his eyes. If he had, he'd have been able to make a positive ID. Still, it was something. This boy was a mutant with unknown powers. They knew that 'Julien' was a mutant, able to fly and use some kind of energy power. If they could prove these mutants were the same, it could be used as evidence to arrest him.

The mutant's eyes were solid black with red irises. They gleamed demonically in the afternoon light, sending a shiver down Parker's spine. They were also red-rimmed, as he'd obviously been crying. He'd lost his father only four months ago, after all.

Parker remembered the transceiver they'd recovered at the cafe. The one they thought he'd used to keep contact with lookouts, though they obviously hadn't done a very good job. Parker's instinct, however, told him a different reason, one which might just make this boy approachable if that receiver was for him to receive orders instead of give them.

The mutant was staring at the tomb again, carefully reaching up to pull his sunglasses from the top of his head back over his eyes. He seemed resigned, and not ready to move. He bowed his head again.

Careful not to appear as a threat, since he remembered very clearly what this kid had done in the cafe, Parker walked up behind him and waited respectfully a few paces back. This was a cemetary, after all.

The mutant knelt for a few more moments, then tenderly laid his flowers at the base of the cross. There were a lot of other fresh bouquets and wreaths there, but he arranged his to be prominent. That done, he knelt with his hands on his knees, an almost endearing gesture, and stood. He turned to face him.

"Is dere somet'ing you wan'?" he asked.

The kid was good. There was no anger or nervousness in his voice, nothing to indicate he had any idea of who Parker was.

"I just came to pay my respects," he told him. "I've been wanting to meet him for a long time."

"I'm sorry you didn't get de chance."

The kid started walking out of the cemetary, not protesting when Parker fell into step beside him.

"My name is Bruce Parker," he said.

The kid glanced at him. "I be Remy LeBeau," he answered, and stuck his hand out to him. Parker remembered vividly the sight of that hand glowing, but shook it anyway. His handshake was firm, but otherwise just like any other hand.

"You must be a relative of Jean-Luc then."

Remy shrugged. "Oui. He was my father."

Parker nodded in real sympathy. He knew what it felt like to lose a loved one. Still, he was here to try and get information.

"I'd heard rumours Jean-Luc had a son, but I don't think anyone ever had proof."

Remy chuckled sadly. "I was 'dopted. My Poppa kept me 'way from de limelight 'cause he didn' t'ink any kid should have t' put up wit' dat, and later 'cause I turned out t' be a mutant an' he didn' want people like de Friends of Humanity comin' after me."

They both walked out of the cemetary. "I saw your eyes. They're very interesting."

"Yeah. I us'ally get two reactions t' dem."

"Two?"

"Demonic or sexy. Coupla people t'ink dey're both."

He laughed. "They must make you pretty conspicuous then."

Remy looked at him sideways. "You sure ask a lotta questions."

Parker smiled apologetically. "I wanted to meet your father, and you're the next best thing. Come on, I'll buy you a coffee."

Remy sipped his cafe latte and watched the detective carefully. He wasn't sure why he was still talking to him, but it was exhiliarating. Like dancing in a mindfield while the snipers were watching.

The detective, Parker, sat across from him and tried to grill him for information. It was a game, where they'd see which one of them made a mistake first.

"You look so young to be leader of your Clan," Parker was saying. "You're what, 25?"

On an impulse, Remy decided to shock him. "Nobody knows how old I am. My Poppa t'inks I be 'bout 10 when he 'dopted me. 'Fore dat, I live on de street. We cel'brate my birt'day on de day he found me."

Across the table, he saw the detective frown slightly. He probably knew exactly what life on the streets was like for kids. "How did you survive?" he asked quietly.

Remy shrugged as though it were nothing. "Did what I had to. Dere are ways t' get clothes an' food an' stuff if y' willin'." He grinned, but Parker's face was sympathetic and he turned away, flushing in embarrassment. "I managed," he finished.

Parker was silent for a long moment. "You must be very grateful to your father, then."

If there was one weakness in Gambit's psyche, it was for kindness. He'd grin at cruelty as though it were nothing, but he'd walk with the Devil if he were kind to him. Actually, he had. More than once.

"I'm ver' grateful," he admitted, sitting hunched over his coffee. "I'd do anyt'ing for my Poppa an' de Clan."

Parker took a sip of his coffee. " Anything covers a great deal."

Unwillingly, Remy found himself wanting to confess everything, just as he seemed to half the times he was around Scott. He realized he should just get up and leave, but part of him wanted what both the detective and Scott could give him. Punishment for his sins, then absolution.

"I owe dem," he said, very softly. "Dey saved me from death an' worse dan death. Dey gave me a home. Whatever dey need of me, I always done, an' I always goin' t' do what dey want."

Parker shook his head. "Even become their leader. Very ironic."

"Well, I not really de leader. I s'posed t' be, but I'm not strong 'nough t' resist de Council like Poppa did. I be just a figurehead. Dey're de ones dat really run de T'ieves Guild."

Remy froze in horror. There was the mistake. He'd just admitted to a cop, who was probably wearing a wire, that there was a New Orleans Thieves Guild and he was part of it. Members had been killed for less than that. He wanted to run, wanted to fight, but he was too shocked at what he'd done. He reached out to Rogue, but she was asleep and the sudden shift of his mind to match her patterns almost knocked him out. All the blood drained from his face.

'Why don' I ever t'ink b'fore I speak?' he wailed silently.

Parker frowned, considering what he'd said. "The Council, mmm?" He sipped his coffee. "I gather, since they took over, they don't want you in control."

Remy hesitated, clutching the edge of the table. "N-no. Dere are t'ings dey don' wan' me changin'. Uh, aren't you goin' t' arrest me?"

Parker stared at him. "No. Would you even let me? With your powers?"

Remy had no answer. He was afraid he'd say yes.

Parker sighed. "Go home, Remy. Just remember, gratitude is no reason to sell your soul."

"T'ink I already sold it a long time ago," Remy whispered, then fled before either of them could change their minds.

Parker sat in the coffeehouse for hours, thinking, his coffee long grown cold, the waitresses sensing his mood and leaving him alone.

Why did I let him go? he wondered. He ADMITTED to being in the Thieves Guild.

It was instinct guiding him agian. EIther that kid was the world's greatest liar or he had some serious emotional problems. He'd been so desperate for ANYONE to show him some sympathy that he'd practically given himself to a man he knew was a cop. The Thieves' Guild must have found him incredibly easy to take advantage of.

Still, Parker had gotten some good information from him. He now had it on tape that there was a Thieves Guild and knew that it was ruled exclusively by a Council, which appeared to be a new thing. Nominal leader or not, arresting Remy LeBeau would have done nothing to stop the Guild.

Parker finally paid for the coffee, got up and left. He knew why he'd let the mutant go, though he didn't like it. No matter how impotent the boy had been brainwashed into believing himself to be, he was in a position to be an incredible lever, and Parker planned to manipulate him more than he'd ever been before.

There was more than one way to break a Guild.

Belladonna stretched luxuriously in her bath, purring as the hot water began to work on her tired muscles. She needed this. The last few months had been exhausting.

Pregnancy more work dan I t'ought it gonna be. An' it only gonna get worse. She sighed. It was only in her private chamgbers that she could relax any more, when her Guild and her husband couldn't see her. Except for her few, closest servants, of course.

"You c'n come in now," she called.

The door opened and Gris-Gris came in, followed by a young red-head named Questa and a blonde called Jacqueline. Fifolet, a second man, leered at her from where he leaned against the wall. They'd all been granted their powers by the Benefactress at the same time, and they'd sworn their loyalty to Belladonna, even before her father died. They were the only ones to know all of her secrets and plans and were the equivelent in some ways of the Thieves Guild Council.

"You wan'ed t' see us, Belle?"

Belle laid her head back against the rim of the antique bathtub, thick white bubbles soft against her skin.

"I did. How go de jobs we been hired for?"

"T'ree of de five targets been 'liminated," Gris-Gris told her. "De ot'er two be high level Hand members, so dey take a lil' longer. We do have t' de end of de week, so dere ain' no reason t' worry yet."

Belle nodded in satisfaction. Like the Thieves' Guild, they got most of their work from hired contracts and they charged very highly.

"What of de job Candra requested?"

Fifolet grinned. "Did him m'self. Jacqueline here jus' 'ported me back." He grinned at the blonde.

"Excellent." She slid a little deeper into the tub. "What de general feelin' in de Guild?" Her father had taught her to always keep abreast of the Families' feelings.

Questa came forward, careful to keep her eyes averted from her leader's form even though the bubbles prevented her from seeing anything. Her shyness around nudity had always annoyed Belle, though she supposed it was better than Fifolet's leering.

"Dey're content. Dey approve of de peace wit' de T'ieves Guild, 'specially since you got LeBeau so firmly under your thumb." There were general sniggers about that. Belle smiled tolerantly. "Dere have been some whispers, though."

Belle looked over. "Oui?"

Questa wrung her hands. "Dere have been some... concerns."

"What kind, chile?"

"Well, dey be sayin' de baby maybe not gon' be normal. I mean, Remy ain' human."

"Half de point dat de baby ain' human! Dat its power be inherent in itself wit'out havin' t' grovel t' de Benefactress. We get 'nough mutants in de bloodline an' we c'n start tellin' her what t' do, 'stead a' de other way 'round."

"Yes, but dey worry dat de baby be born wrong, dat it don't have no powers dat be useful t' us or dat it too strong for us t' control. Dey also worry dat a human woman won' be able t' bring a mutant baby t' term, an' if y' miscarry, you might not be able t' have another. Dat den you won' be leader."

"Merde!" Belle slammed a hand down on top of the water. It splashed Questa, who flinched but didn't move. "Goddamn hypocrites!"

It was one of the oldest and, in her mind, stupidest, laws of the Guild. The leader of the Guild had to produce an heir or lose their position forever to someone else who could. It was a rule which infuriated her.

Gris-Gris frowned. "On dat note, Tante wants t' examine you t' be sure de baby all right."

"Tell her t' go t' Hell!" she snapped. "I ain' lettin' dat woman near me."

The voodoo man nodded. "Of course. But she got de support of de Guild behind her. Dey wanta know, too."

"Dey don' lead de Guild. I do! An' I will not be questioned by my own fam'ly."

She stood up in the tub. Fifolet grinned widely and she stepped out onto the heated floor, holding up her arms for the robe Jacqueline held. Leaving it open, she walked over to a gilded, floor-length mirror and looked at her profile. "Not bad for four months pregnant, neh?"

"Magnifique," Fifolet assured her.

Belle chuckled, closing the robe. "How goes Marie's surveillance?"

"Her telekinesis let her get pretty close, but dat bodyguard be nasty."

Belle frowned. "We may have t' do somet'ing 'bout him."

The door to the apartment opened. Belle spun, her eyes wide. "Merde! It's Remy!" She'd been avoiding him for weeks and hadn't slept in the same room with him for a month. He'd seemed to welcome the separation. But they still lived in the same mansion. "Get him outta here. I can' let him see me like dis!"

Gris-Gris nodded. "Of course."

Gris-Gris stepped out of the bathroom to see the mutant pouring himself a drink. His hand was shaking and Gris-Gris wondered briefly what had happened to frighten him so badly. Not that it was important. It was the fear alone that interested him.

"Get out," he told him coldly. "Belladonna don' wan' you here t'day."

Remy downed his drink in one gulp and turned to face him. "Isn't dat sweet. She still love me."

"Get out, LeBeau. Y' done y' stud service. Belle wants her privacy."

Remy glared at him. "Belle c'n do whatever she wants. She c'n get on her knees an' fuck you if dat what make her happy, but she can' tell me what t' do."

Gris-Gris' eyes narrowed and he activated his power, the gift given to him by Candra for doing her killing for her. Mostly, he preferred to use powder and flash as part of his personal style, but that wasn't necessary. He didn't need to do anything at all. He only needed to use it.

The mutant's eyes widened and the glass he'd been holding dropped to shatter on the floor.

"Don't insult my leader again, mutant," he told him calmly. "Or I t'row de worst of your fears at you, jus' as I am now."

Remy dropped to his knees, clutching at his chest and shaking, eyes wide while he relived his worst nightmares.

"I could stop your heart, mutant," Gris-Gris told him. "It be a simple t'ing. Jus' frighten y' t' death." It would be simple. He'd done it often enough before.

Remy could barely breathe, his heart beating so fast he was afraid it would burst. He was in the Great Hall, kneeling naked and cold on the hard stone. The combined might of the clan was arranged on the floor and balconies above and around him. Men, women, children, even a few older people, all jeering. The Guild members stood with them, laughing along with the X-Men. All of their faces were distorted by hatred and evil.

"You failed us, Remy LeBeau," the Council intoned. Terrified, he looked up to where they towered over him, their eyes glowing like fire out of the hoods of the cloaks they wore.

"W-what?" His voice came out high-pitched, like a child. He was a child, too young to defend himself or use his powers.

"You were suppos'd t' lead us," they accused. "But you were too incom'tent. We had t' take over."

"You be pathetic."

"Loser."

"Worthless."

Remy put his hands over his ears. "No! Dat isn' true!"

"Oh, come now, Remy." He turned to see a beautiful, cruel woman laughing at him.

"Candra," he whispered.

"Surely you realize you've always been weak. Things get tough and you leave." She gestured at the Cajuns around her. "And because you're a coward, you've given the Guild back to me forever."

"No," he whimpered, his terror growing more. "You can' have dem."

"Oh? And are you going to stop me?"

He couldn't answer her.

"Why did I ever believe you could be a LeBeau?" A voice slurred. Slowly, the Council parted to let a man stagger into the light.

"Poppa... ?"

Jean-Luc grimaced at him, hunched over, dressed in rags, the decaying flesh dripping off of him. Remy could see his bones through gaps in the flesh and half his face had rotted away to show the bone underneath, where maggots crawled.

"You worthless," he slurred. "Less dan not'in'. I shoulda let y' die on de street. It a mistake I intend t' rectify." He reached for him. "Come t' Poppa, boy."

Remy started to scream.

Gris-Gris smiled down at the mutant. He was lying shaking on the ground, curled into a fetal position. It was a reaction he was used to seeing in his victims. In all the years he'd had these powers, only one person had had the strength to see past the hallucinations and break free.

He didn't intend to kill him, of course. That would start the war with the Thieves Guild back up and Belladonna wasn't ready yet for such a move. Still, she wouldn't protest at all if all he did was break the mutant's soul.

"Rolling, rolling, rolling,
Keep those doggies rolling.
God my ass is swollen
Rawhide!"

Bobby drew himself up proudly. "Excuse me, I do not. I stole it from City Slickers."

Bishop glanced at him from the driver's seat. "Why?"

The car chose that moment to go over an especially large bump. "Take a wild guess. I think we need to get the shocks checked when we get home." He winced in exaggeration.

Bishop ignored him, looking at Rogue. "Do you want me to slow down?"

She shook her head. "Ah'm fine. Ah'm invulnerable, so ah don't feel the bumps."

"Must be nice," Bobby lamented. "Couldn't we have just taken the main road through town?"

"No, sugah. It's not any place ah want ta see. Don't worry, though. We're almost there."

Rogue leaned back against her seat, her arms folded in her lap. She'd been coming back to this one place in Caldecott County every year since she was thirteen. She used to visit a private hospital as well, but there was no point in going there now. Since she permenantly gained Ms Marvel's powers, she'd always flown, though even before that she'd avoided the town. She'd lived half her childhood there, until the day Cody kissed her. He'd fallen into a permenant coma, and Rogue had shed her real name and gone to live with Mystique in another town ten miles away. It'd been for the best. She hadn't been welcome after that day.

In trying to avoid the town, she'd directed Bishop to an old logging road from the turn of the century. it was only wide enough for a single car to pass, dry with ruts dug deep into the soil. Small bushes grew directly on the path in places while trees and larger bushes grew thick to either side. Heavy branches hung across the path, just above the level of the car and the potholes were horrendous. They'd been on the path for twenty minutes.

"I hope there's someplace up ahead to turn around," Bobby muttered from the back seat.

Rogue shook her head. "Sugah, if there isn't, ah'll just pick up th' car and turn it around mahself."

Suddenly, Bishop slowed from the crawl he'd been going at so far. "Which way?"

She frowned. "Ah'm not sure. Let me scoot up ta sky level an' take a look."

Bishop's hand dropping onto her arm stopped her from opening her door. "No, that would leave you too open to sniper fire. I'll go." Without waiting for an answer, he got out of the car.

Bobby leaned over her seat. "What is Bishop doing?" He asked.

Rogue peered through the windshield. "Bein' pigheaded."

"Oh, well, he's good at that."

Together, they watched Bishop walk to one of the larger trees, test its lower branches for stability, then start to climb. Even though he was the biggest men in the X-Men, save for Beast, he vanished up it in moments.

"Well, I guess all we can do is lean back and wait for the thud." Bobby looked at her. "Are you enjoying the trip?"

She shrugged. "Well, it's taken 'bout three days longer ta get out here than ah thought. And th' whole time, ah been cooped up with a crazy man an' an icecube. What's not ta enjoy?"

"Aw, come one, we haven't been all that bad company, have we?"

She laughed. "Okay, so maybe ya ain't all that terrible after all."

"Really?"

Suddenly, Bishop stuck his head in the window and both X-Men jumped.

"I can see the Mississippi River several miles to the right. I suggest we go that way."

"Sounds good ta me, sugah."

"How much longer do you think we'll take getting there?" Bobby asked.

Bishop climbed back into the car. "Ten minutes to reach the river, then however far upstream we need to go."

"Oh, joy..."

Rogue smiled. Bobby had been complaining since the instant they left the road. She'd gotten used to listening to him whine on the road trip together just after Isreal, when Remy had been in a coma. It was actually a comforting sound, for all it was annoying.

"If ya want, ya can stay here an' wait for us."

Bobby frowned. "Given a choice between boredom and a bruised butt, I think I'll stick with you guys." They rattled through a pothole. "Then again..."

They went down the road, which began to narrow until branches scraped against the sides of the car.

Finally, the car stopped before a large tree that'd fallen across the road.

"Oh, man..." Bobby groaned.

"Ah guess ah'll just lift th' car over th' tree."

Bishop shook his head. "Don't bother. The road undoutably only gets narrower." His rifle in hand, he forced his door open. "Guard her," he ordered Bobby. "I'll take point." He started off as Bobby clambered over the seat and out the same door he'd used. Rogue flew out the skylight.

Couple more weeks an' ah won't be able ta fit, she thought wrily.

With Bishop already vanished ahead, she started walking. It was a beautiful day out, the blue sky dotted with clouds and the sun warm as it came dappled through the trees to warm her body. It was much better than riding in the car and she sighed in contentment, her hands stroking her rounded belly. She was almost sure she could feel the baby moving.

Bobby glanced at her, sweating and generally looking uncomfortable in the heat. "You're looking forward to the arrival of the munchkin, aren't you?"

Rogue smiled. "Ah am. Ah really am."

"You know, you've got this glow about you. It makes you look really beautiful." He blushed.

"Why, thank you, Mistah Drake."

They walked in silence for a few more minutes. The road had narrowed to a mere trail now, and she could see a clearing through the trees. They were almost there.

"Hey, Rogue," Bobby said nonchalantly. "I was wondering if you'd maybe like to get some coffee or something when we get back. Without Bishop."

Rogue blinked, suddenly nervous. "Ya mean a date?"

"Um, uh..." He cleared his throat. "Yes."

Rogue realized her mouth was hanging open and shut it. With the exception of Remy, who'd pursued her relentlessly from the moment he saw her on the beach on Muir Island, she'd never been asked out by anyone who knew of her powers before. She didn't know what to say. Still, it was only Bobby and it wasn't as though she were waiting for Remy to come back, was it?"

"Sure, ah guess," she said. Bobby grinned and reached out to take her gloved hand. His was broader than Remy's, she noted, the fingers shorter.

A moment later, Bishop appeared from behind a stand of trees and Bobby dropped her hand, putting his behind his back.

"I scouted the clearing," he told Rogue, his eyes fixed murderously on Iceman. "It's clear. No one's been there for several days."

"Thanks, sugah," Rogue replied and kept walking. Bishop fell in beside her, pointedly putting himself between her and Iceman. Bobby looked like he wanted to say something, then changed his mind.

Then they arrived and Rogue stopped, memories filling her. They were in a clearing right on the edge of the Mississippi River. It was shielded on the other sides by bramble bushes. The route they'd taken was the long one. A shorter one was on the other side of the clearing, leading in a more or less straight line to the town of Caldecott two miles away. It was only wide enough for a child to fit through though, and for years it'd been a refuge for children. Rogue especially.

Behind her, Bobby and Bishop were arguing in low voices. She could easily guess what about, but she ignored them as she walked over to a rope tied to a tree branch above the edge of the river. This was where it'd all started. Where Cody kissed her and her powers activated for the first time, throwing him into a coma for the rest of his life.

Gently, she took the rope in one hand, looking down at the water. Someone had thrown beer bottles in it, she saw with disgust.

Suddenly, her reflection in the water changed to become that of a grinning man. She gasped as he surged out of the water at her.

Rogue screamed. It was Cody, adult, dressed in his hospital gown, but dead and decaying.

"Ya killed me, girl," he rasped. "An' here ah thought ya be used ta bein' touched."

Rogue scrambled backwards away from him, still screaming and wondering where Bishop and Bobby were. She couldn't take her eyes off the corpse though. It was rotting even more as she watched.

Then, the swinging rope whipped up and around her neck, hauling her off her feet. Choking, she tried to pull it off, but all of her powers seemed to have deserted her.

Cody grinned. "Time ta pay f' what ya don', girl. Ya don' wan' nobody touchin' ya? Then nobody will."

Helpless, Rogue could only watch as he reached for her belly.

Gambit couldn't seem to stop shaking as the zombie of his father advanced on him.

"Dis ain' real," he gasped. Falling over, he scooted backwards to get away from him. "Y' jus' a nightmare!"

Suddenly, a hand locked around his throat and he was lifted off the ground.

"Ah, but nightmares can kill," Sinister purred in his ear.

"No!!" Gambit wailed. Most of the X-Men seemed to be standing nearby, laughing at him.

"No..." a voice echoed him and he opened his eyes to see, beyond his father, an image floating in midair. It was of Rogue, hanging, kicking at a corpse that was clawing at her stomach while a rope strangled her to death. Another man stepped into view, one who he didn't recognize, and she screamed again in renewed horror.

It's de Gestalt, Remy realized in despair. She's bein' affected de same way I am.

"Rogue!" He yelled.

Her face was turning blue, her struggles slowing. She quivered delicately, like a doe which had just had its throat cut.

In that instant, Remy's terror turned to rage. He could cower, he could die. But he'd go to Hell itself before he'd let Rogue be harmed ever again.

Roaring, he lashed out, his elbow slamming into Sinister with all the force of Rogue's strength. The grip on his neck released and he landed on the ground. The zombie moved towards his threateningly, but it couldn't make him afraid. Not unless he let it.

"Get outta my way! Rogue!" Just as he had to escape from Parker, he flew past it and, somehow, into Rogue's nightmare. Kicking Cody away, he snapped the rope holding her and flew them both upwards, until there were no trees or Great Hall and they were completely surrounded by stars.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he kept saying, over and over. She was crying in his arms, her belly tight against his so they both could feel their baby kick. He kissed her tears away, still repeating those words.

"Remy? Remy, oh mah God!" Suddenly she was kissing him, her mouth locked on his, her arms wrapped around him. He returned her embrace, crushing her to him in desperate passion.

Then, she was gone and he opened his eyes without realizing they'd been closed, his body aching with the need for Rogue.

He was lying on the floor of Belle's bedroom, curled into the fetal position with Gris-Gris standing over him. The Assassin had tried to kill him, he realized.

Remy's rage renewed and he leaped to his feet. Gris-Gris' eyes widened in surprise as he grabbed the front of his ornate coat.

"Nice try, Voodoo Man," he grated, and turning, he threw him with his lover's massive strength through the huge bay window. Glass shattered and the Assassin vanished.

The door to the bathroom opened and Belladonna stood there, Fifolet, Questa and Jacqueline behind her. Her hair and skin were wet and her pregnancy was hidden in the thick folds of her robe.

"What you doin?!" she gasped in shock.

He smiled at her coldly, walked over to his Tithe Box and balanced it on his shoulder. He didn't know how much longer Rogue's powers would stay in him this time, but the risk of a hernia was worth the look on Belle's face.

"Gris-Gris said y' be wantin' y' privacy. I be givin' it t' you."

With that, he walked out the door.

Rogue opened her eyes to look up at Bishop.

"Thank Xavier!" He said. She'd never seen him look so relieved.

Slowly, Rogue sat up, leaning against Bobby. "What happened?" He asked. "You suddenly collapsed and we couldn't wake you."

Rogue shivered. "Ah - ah had a nighmare. Could we go home now?"

Bishop frowned. "Very well, but you will be examined by Dr McCoy the instant we get back."

"Sure, whatevah."

Dizzily, she let them help her stand and stood there running her hands over her belly as Bishop took point again.

Bobby looked at her worridly. "Are you sure you're all right?"

She nodded, remembering who saved her. "Bobby? About that coffee?"

"Yeah?"

"Ah think ah want ta take a raincheck."

With a flourish, Remy whipped the white sheet off the furniture, then coughed at the dust it threw up.

"Are you sure dis a good idea?" Lapin asked from the door.

Remy uncovered more furniture, then threw open a window to air out the room.

"I am not stayin' wit' dat woman a minute longer," he told his cousin.

"De Council not gonna like it."

"Fuck de Council. I gotta do somet'ing for m'self f' once. B'sides, I t'ought de Council mad dat I live wit' her."

Lapin shrugged. "Dat you live in her house, oui. Dey be madder 'bout you livin' sep'rate. Kinda makes de treaty look like it gonna fail."

Remy started rolling the sheets savagely. "De Council never had t' live wit' her. 'Sides, she got what she wan'ed from me. An' I tired a bein' seen only as a stud."

Lapin laughed. "Cousin, I got news f' you. Most ev'ry woman see you as a stud."

Remy stopped what he was doing and just looked at him.

"Uh-" Lapin looked down. "Sorry." Remy went back to his cleaning. "Is it really dat bad bein' married t' Belle? I mean, it could be worse."

The mutant tossed the sheets in the corner. "Oh, yeah, sure. I could spend six months in a death camp or get blipped out of exist'nce in a time paradox, but dis still pretty bad, neh?"

"It de best t'ing for de fam'lies."

"An' what 'bout what best f' me?" Remy demanded. "I had t' leave de woman I love an' our baby f' de fam'ly. An' all I get outta it is t' be used by ev'rybody. 'Specially de Council."

Lapin shifted uncomfortably. "Y' gotta obey de Council, Remy."

Remy sat down heavily. "I was s'posed t' lead dem."

Lapin sat down beside him. "Do y' really wan' dat respons'bility? For de whole Clan an' de Guild?"

Five thousand people, all looking to him for guidance. Remy shivered. "I... don' know."

"Den jus' lay back an' let de Council be in control. Dey swore t' always do what best for de Clan, 'bove all else."

"Yeah." Remy looked around at the house he'd bought when he was eighteen, just before he married Belle and was banished. "An' dey'll tie us tighter t' Candra dan ever."

Lapin shook his head. "I don' un'erstand what y' got 'gainst de Benefactress. De Elixer worth it."

Remy leaned back. "Dat's what ev'body say." He sighed and put it away for now. "Wanna go get a drink?"

"Sorry, I got a funeral t' go to."

"Oh, now dat's a good pick-me-up."

Lapin smiled sadly. "Act'ally, I was hopin' you'd come. I need de moral support."

Remy raised an eyebrow. "Who died?"

"My sister, Jenette."

"Aw, merde. I'm sorry, Lapin. Don' worry, I'll come wit' you."

"Hey, everybody, we're home!" Bobby yelled.

Rogue smiled as X-Men began to appear from all directions to greet the homecomers.

"Welcome back," Ororo said as she hugged her. "We did not expect to see you so soon."

"Ah was feelin' a little tired so we flew back." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Bishop already talking to Hank. The doctor was beginning to frown in her direction.

"Ah- let's go sit down. Ah think mah ankles are startin' t' swell."

Linking arms with Jean and Ororo, Rogue walked into the living room, trailed by the rest of the X-Men. Laughing, she regailed them with the tale of driving to Mississippi with Bishop and Iceman.

"Hey, it wasn't that bad," Bobby protested. The X-Men laughed.

"Remind me never ta travel with you, kid," Logan chuckled.

Rogue beamed around the room, happy to be back with her family as she relaxed gratefully into a soft chair.

"So, did anything interestin' happen while ah was away?"

"Four Sentinels tried to destroy the mansion."

"Betsy was sucked into an alternate dimension by a demon." Psylocke smiled from the window.

"The X-Babies returned." Shudders spread across the room.

Rogue giggled. "Ya kiddin', right?"

"We're the X-Men. We don't need to kid."

Rogue's sniggering grew louder. "Ah shoulda known. Anythin' else?"

Warren glanced up from where he leaned against a bookshelf. "Gambit called."

Rogue felt herself go white as everyone turned to stare at him.

"Why didn't you tell us this before?" Scott asked.

He shrugged. "I didn't think anyone would care. I hung up on him."

Abruptly, Rogue threw herself out of her chair at him. Grabbing his shirt front, she lifted him above the ground. "How could ya do this ta me?!" She screamed at him.

"Rogue, cut it out!" Scott yelled. "Put him down!"

"Darlin', take it easy."

"What did he say ta ya? Tell me!"

"Ack!" Warren's metal wings spread, ready to fire paralyzing flechettes. Then Betsy grabbed Rogue's hair, her other fist glowing with her psychic knife.

"Let him go now."

"Stop this, all of you!" The force of the voice froze everyone where they were, and slowly Rogue set Warren down and looked over her shoulder at the Professor.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Rogue's lip began to quiver, and without answering, she turned and ran out of the living room, then upstairs to her room.

She threw herself on her bed, feeling very immature. She had made it very clear that she didn't want to see Remy again.

The question was, did she now? He'd destroyed her dreams, after all. Ever since ah was a little girl, ah wanted a normal life. Why couldn't he just... just... She laid her head on her pillow, remembering.

"I didn't do it t' hurt you, chere."

"Ya coulda fooled me! Why didn't ya just get a normal job like ah told ya to?"

"Because I'm not a normal person. I don' wan' t' be normal."

She closed her eyes. She'd wanted him to be her perfect man so badly.

"I hate dis life an' I hate livin' here wit' you!"

Those were the most painful words she'd ever heard.

"Oh, Remy, how could ya?"

There was a soft knock at the door and Jean stuck her head in. "Can I come in?"

"Sure."

Jean came in and sat on the edge of the bed. "What was that all about?"

Rogue sighed. "Ah was upset."

"We noticed." She smiled gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Piling her pillows against the headboard, Rogue sat up against them. "Jean, do ya remember when ah showed ya mah memories o' the fight ah had with Remy?"

"Yes."

Rogue couldn't really draw her legs up with her stomach in the way, so she crossed them instead. "Well, ah been thinkin', an' ah reckon maybe ah was, ah dunno, ah little hard on Remy for lyin' ta me, an' for th' fight."

Jean raised both eyebrows. "You reckon."

"Yeah. Ah reckon maybe ah'm a little bit responsible mahself."

"A little bit..." Jean rubbed her temples. "Rogue, I'm not entirely sure I should tell you this, but I think I have to. You are not a little bit responsible. You are wholly responsible."

Rogue blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Rogue, from the moment you and Remy began your relationship, you've been the one in control of it."

"Ah have not."

"Oh, haven't you? Think about it. You set the pace and made all the decisions. You're the one who kissed him. The only thing Remy's guilty of is not standing up for himself sooner."

Rogue looked away. "Ah just wanted ta live mah dream."

"I know, Rogue. But was it fair to force Remy into it?"

"He didn't say no."

Jean smoothed out the bit of bedspread where she was sitting with her hand. "No, he didn't. I honestly don't think Remy knows how to say no."

She snorted. "Haven't ya evah seen him with Cyclops?"

"I mean he can't say no to anyone he cares about. You, Storm- he probably would do whatever Bishop asked as well. He's so afraid of being rejected that he'll keep going against his nature until he can't stand any more, snaps and runs."

Rogue's lips were tight. "So once again, everythin' is mah fault."

"Rogue..."

"Don't give me that tone o' voice." She was glaring at the telepath now. "Ah made mah needs very clear from th' beginnin'. Remy shoulda done th' same. Ah refuse ta take responsibility for someone else lying ta me an' leadin' me on 'cause he's immature enough ta think ah'm gonna reject him if he does."

"You did reject him, Rogue," Jean said.

"Get out!' Rogue screamed, pointing at the door.

Stiffly, Jean stood, her eyes colder than Rogue had ever seen them. "Do you want Remy back?"

"That's between him an' me, thank ya very much."

Jean looked at her and left.

Quietly, Rogue stretched out on the bed, cradling her stomach. Again, she wondered if she wanted Remy to return, and if he did, if she wanted him in control instead.

"We are gathered here t'day t' bid farewell t' Jenette Dubois, beloved, wife, mother an' gran'mother, and release her soul t' join wit' de Almighty."

Remy kept his head down respectfully as the priest droned on, staring at the tomb. It was smaller than the Guild tomb, but just as ornate. Jenette would remain in state inside until only her bones remained. Then, her journey done, she would be brushed aside for the next relative needing a place to rest. It was a rather comforting thought, actually. Remy himself wanted to sleep in one of these tombs with his family when his own time came. The idea of being buried underground in a box made him shudder. He'd never gotten around to making a will, so he supposed he was lucky his original body had been cremated when it died. He did still have a tombstone dedicated to him in the X-Men cemetary though. He'd visited it once, then had nightmares for weeks.

The priest was talking about absolution and redemption. Remy lifted his head a little to see some of the names of the dead who'd been interred here.

There were hundreds of names and dates, many worn off and written over. His own name would remain on the Guild tomb only so long as there was room for it, the same as his bones. Then it too would be swept away. Many people were bothered by that, but for Remy it was closure. A time when he could truly rest in peace. There were moments in his life now when he longed for that.

I wonder if Rogue would wan' t' be entombed here wit' me? he wondered idly, then pushed the thought away. He had no idea where he stood with her anymore. He focused on the funeral.

"Bow y' heads an' pray wit' me for de soul of Jenette Dubois, dat now reside in Heaven wit' our Lord."

Remy crossed himself and mouthed the words of the prayer. It felt odd to think of Jenette being gone. He still remembered her as the middle-aged housewife who smacked his fingers when he snitched her cookies. Stealing was all well and good, but don't do it in her kitchen. It'd taken a long time before he'd believe she was Lapin's sister, given that he never looked older than twenty four. That wasn't surprising though, since in all the families, only three women had taken the Elixer, and they were all dedicated to the Guild, without husbands or children.

It was the one tragedy everyone admitted to concerning the Elixer. Only a small percent of the Clan ever made it into the Guild, and a good half of those were never successful enough to earn the Elixer. Those who did received near immortality, but no one else did and they had to live on as parents, wives, sons and daughters grew old and died around them.

Even if he did someone reconcile with Rogue, Remy would have to watch her grow old and die while he remained young. Meanwhile, Belladonna, the only Assassin to receive the Elixer, would live as long as he did.

The Cajun closed his eyes. How you stand it, Poppa? He asked silently. You lost eight wives an' thirty chil'en. Same wit' y' gran'chil'en an' dere chil'en an' gran'chil'en. How you keep goin'? How you love so many women so much wit'out wan'ing t' die wit' each one? He'd never met any of Jean-Luc's wives. The last had died sometime before he was born, at the age of fifty three.

The general lifespan of the families only made it harder. Between the Assassins and the Clan's own genetics, few people lived to sixty and no one past sixty five. No one was sure why Clan lives were so short, though there were whispers it was due to hundreds of years of inbreeding. Remy suspected his own adoption was partially to help revive their flagging bloodlines. Sex within families wasn't something that bothered him, any more than the tombs did. He'd been taught that marriage between cousins whose parents were related but of different genders was all right and even to be encouraged. Technically, he could have gotten children on Jenette, whose mother was Jean-Luc's sister's great grandaughter, and no one would have said a word. However, had he touched any of Jean-Luc's brother's daughters, everyone would have been screaming incest, for they were considered to be much more closely related. Most Clan marriages were between people whose parents' were brother and sister. It was an arrangement common in most cultures in the world, but not something the Clan advertised in America.

"Amen," the priest finished. "Go in peace."

Remy looked up as the Dubois' stepped up to the tomb to lay down flowers, whispering and crying to one another as they left, one by one. Lapin put a hand on his shoulder.

"T'anks for comin', cousin."

"Y' welcome. I'm sorry 'bout Jenette."

Lapin sighed. "Dat's okay. I really hadn' been too close t' her de last twenty years. Still, she was my sister, neh?"

Remy nodded. "I un'erstand."

The two men stared at the tomb for a moment longer as the last of the family left. Remy began to sense something. Finally, Lapin shook himself.

"Y' comin'? We got a fais dodo startin' f' Jenette wit' a dancin' parade an' zydeco an' Cajun music, an' 'nough crayfish an' gumbo t' feed de whole Clan."

"You go on. I catch up later."

"Okay, cousin." Lapin hurried after the others. Remy continued to stare at the tomb, his hands folded in front of him.

"You comin' out or not?" He asked at last. "I ain' got all day."

Parker stepped out from behind a tree. "How did you know I was here?"

"I know. Why is it dat we always meetin' in graveyards?"

Parker walked over to his side, pausing to cross himself before the tomb. "I've started hanging out here. It's the only place I'm sure you'll show up at eventually."

"I see," Remy said, resolving not to use the Labyrinth enterance in the Guild tomb again for a while. "What d' you want?"

The detective moved towards a stone bench, Remy following. "Since our last meeting, I've done a little research on you. You're a hard man to track. You cover your trail very well."

"T'ank you. What y' find out?"

Parker leaned back. "You didn't spend your entire childhood on the streets before Jean-Luc adopted you."

"Is dat a fact?"

The detective ignored his sarcasm. "A little boy named Remy was picked up for stealing wallets on Bourbon Street seventeen years ago. He didn't give a last name and didn't seem to have an address, so he was placed in a foster home. Three weeks later, he ran away. Was that you?"

"Yah. So?"

"So, it confirms your story that you grew up on the street." He thought of mentioning that the father in that foster family was arrested ten years later for being a pedophile, but decided not to. Remy barely trusted him as it was.

The young Cajun shrugged. So what else d' you know?"

Parker pulled a file folder out of his jacket and watched Remy's eyes light up with interest at the sight of it.

"Not much," he admitted. "I don't think there's an official record of your adoption, but if your Clan accepts you, I suppose that's good enough."

"It is for dem."

Parker flipped through the few documents and photos in the folder. "At eighteen you married Belladonna Beaudreaux, after which you dropped almost entirely out of sight, until just after your father died. You record is clean. The only thing I could find was someone matching your description wanted as a witness to a murder in Paris."

Remy shrugged. "Lots a people be matchin' my description."

"Not with your eyes, they don't."

"Hmph. Anyt'ing else?"

"Officially, no. Unofficially, you're an Alpha Class mutant. That apparently means you have enough power to wipe out a small town, which you haven't done yet."

"Aw, y' makin' me blush," he grinned. "What all dis mean?"

Parker shut the folder. "What it means is either you're a world class master thief or basically just a good kid who's being used."

"What d' you t'ink?"

"I think you're a little of both. Care to comment?"

Remy watched a bird peck for seeds in the grass. "Not really."

The detective put the folder away again. "I didn't think so."

"So what y' gonna do wit' me now? Arrest me?"

"I haven't got all that much to arrest you on. You admitted to being the leader of the Thieves Guild," Remy flinched. "but you also said a Council was really in charge. Arresting you will only get me one confused kid in jail. It won't affect the Guild at all."

Remy's lips twisted bitterly, because he knew he was right. "So what y' talkin' t' me for?"

"Because, instead of a Council, I'd rather see you in control of the Guild."

Remy's jaw dropped open in total surprise. "Hehn?!"

Parker's expression was deadly serious. "The men in the Council have probably been in power a long time, and they're corrupt, or they never would have cheated you out of your inheritance. That's a bad combination to have in charge of any organization."

"How do you know I not as bad as dey are?"

"You're young," he explained. "You still have the opportunity to fully understand the difference between right and wrong."

"Lemme guess. You gonna teach me, neh?"

He nodded. "If I have to."

"An' if it don' work?"

"That's the chance I'm willing to take. Have you ever been a betting man, LeBeau?"

Gambit smiled.

"Welcome, class, come in, come in... whoa, you are a big one, aren't you?"

Rogue looked between the five foot nothing lamaze instructor and the six foot plus Bishop and sniggered.

"Hah, mah name is Rogue and this is Bishop."

The teacher shook her gloved hand, her eyes focused on the M tatooed across Bishop's right eye. "Uh, yes, thank you for coming, Mr and Mrs Bishop."

"She's not my wife," Bishop told her. "She's my father's lover."

"I... see. I hope he didn't feel he was too old to attend the classes. We've had seniors here before. How old is he?"

"About twenty five."

"Bishop, don't tease th' woman!" Rogue smiled at the teacher reassuringly. "Nevah mind him. He drinks heavily." Bishop sputtered behind her. "Th' father is outta town right now."

"Oh, I see. Well, go in and make yourselves comfortable." She moved on to the next couple.

Bishop glared at Rogue. "Somethin' wrong, sugah?" She asked sweetly.

"I do not drink."

"Then maybe it's time ya started. Next time, don't embarass me." Taking his hand, she waddled out onto the floor, and with his help, lowered herself onto a large pillow. At six months pregnant, she felt like she was carrying a small pony inside her.

Bishop looked around at the open room and large windows. "I feel very exposed in here," he grumbled.

"At least ya c'n get ya knees t'gether. Now quit whining."

"I am not-"

"Shh. She's startin'."

"Hello, class," the teacher gushed. "My name is Mrs Fisk and I'll be your guide into the wonderful world of Lamaze, where we will explore the joys of natural childbirth. We'll be learning breathing techniques, what to expect during pregnancy and labour, as well as what to do when the baby has been born, such as breast feeding, diaper choices and immunizations. And we will, of course, discuss what drug choices there are today, if you choose to use them."

"I'm still bringing my stun gun," Bishop muttered. Rogue elbowed him sharply.

"First, let's begin with the introductions."

Rogue shifted awkwardly as Mrs Fisk went around the room. She was a healthy woman, but she'd swelled up like a hippo with her pregnancy, due, the doctor believed, to her mutant body responding to the hormone increase. She was finding it difficult to be comfortable anywhere and kept wanting to lie in a hot tub, though neither Hank nor her baby doctor would let her anywhere near one. Fortunately, Remy felt what she did and when her back and legs were especially sore, he'd go soak himself for an hour or so, which greatly relieved her own discomfort. Unfortunately, at the moment he seemed to be playing football or something else similarily stupid.

Ah'll get him back, she thought. Tomorrow ah get mah pelvic exam.

Finally, everyone knew the names of everyone else and they went on to the main part of the class. For the most part it was about breathing techniques, and teaching the coaches how to keep the labouring woman focused beyond the pain. There were also common sense tricks, like giving the woman ice chips to suck on instead of water, since she wouldn't be able to urinate for a long time. Bishop was quiet during most of it, but he glared suspiciously at the other students so much that they had a wide space around them.

Finally, the class ended and Bishop walked slowly at her side as she semi-waddled down to the parking garage and their car.

"Whoo, ah think ah must be the biggest woman there, 'cept for that gal who's due in a week. Mah obstetrician says some women get larger bellies than others. Ah jus' wished ah wasn't one o' them."

Bishop scanned the garage warily, his hand twitching towards the gun he wore under his jacket. Except for the other students, though, they were alone.

"Why not have Doctor McCoy deliver your baby?" He asked.

"Beast is good at a lot o' things, but he ain't no baby doctor."

Bishop frowned. "The security at the mansion is better than any hospital," he pointed out to her.

"Well, ah guess that's what ah have ya for."

He nodded in complete seriousness. "Wait here while I get the car."

Bored, Rogue leaned up against a cement pillar and opened herself up to Remy. Her sensitivity to him was increasing the longer they were apart, but she had learned to tune most of him out. When she paid attention, though, she could tell what he was doing and quite often what he was feeling. She knew he was capable of the same, but not since Caldecott had they been able to connect closely enough that they could actually see one another in some form of astral place.

At the moment, Remy was walking somewhere, and playfully she pinched her bottom. He jumped and stopped and she sniggered, then shrieked as he tickled her in retaliation.

Immediately, Bishop was before her, gun drawn. "What is it?"

She blushed. "Uh, nothing."

Dark brown eyes fixed on hers. "Tell me, Rogue."

The young woman grimaced in embarassment. "It's Remy. He felt me pinch mahself through our link, so he tickled me."

Bishop looked at her a moment longer, as if to be sure she wasn't lying, then slowly holstered his gun. "Are you reconciling with my father, then?"

She bit her lip, not sure what to say. Bishop was guarding her because that's what he believed Remy would want, but he never judged her. He just wanted to know.

"Ah don't know," she admitted. "Ah keep linkin' ta him 'cause o' our Gestalt an' ah actually feel like we're gettin' closer, even though he's thousands o' miles away." She sighed. "But ah don't know if it's real."

Bishop listened quietly until she finished. Then: "Never doubt my father's love for you, Rogue."

She smirked skeptically. "How would ya know?"

To her surprise, Bishop walked over to the car and sat on the hood, facing her. His expression actually softened.

"I know because he never stopped loving you. Even in my time, when he was raising my sister Shard and myself, he would talk about a woman who was the love of his life. It was the only part of his past he would talk about. I know now that woman was you."

Rogue blushed, looking down, then up at him shyly, through her lashes. "What'd he say 'bout me?"

"That you were the best thing to ever happen to him. He never got over you."

Rogue looked down again. In Bishop's future, Remy had been the only surviving X-Man after the betrayal. Thanks to all of their efforts, and especially Bishop's warning, they'd managed to prevent the end of the X-Men, but Bishop's memories were still strong.

"He still loved me," she whispered.

"Always. There was nothing more important to him." He stood up, all business again. "Come, I have to get you home."

Obediently, Rogue let him lead her to the car and help her into the front seat. She'd wanted to take the limo with its extra room, but he'd felt it was too big a security risk. Too noticable. As if a massive black man with a tattoo on his face carrying a plasma blaster wasn't noticable enough.

Bishop was quiet during the drive, actually surprising her by taking a more roundabout, scenic route through downtown. She just leaned back and enjoyed the ride, thinking about what Bishop had said. It all sounded too simple, but maybe she was trying too hard.

"Bish-"

"Shh," he hissed. "We're being followed."

Rogue froze in her seat, not looking back, gripped by something she'd never fully experienced before, not in all the battles she'd been in. Plain, basic terror for the safety of her baby and the conviction that she'd kill anyone who threatened it.

Remy lifted his head, staring in puzzlement at the wall before him. He felt a terrible fear, and rage, but he didn't know why.

"Rogue?" he whispered, worried, though there was nothing he could do except hope.

Bishop drove the four door carefully through traffic, same as he always did, but his peripheral vision was locked on the rear view mirror. There it was again. An ordinary car trailing them about a half block back.

Whoever they were, they were good. In spite of all his training, he'd barely spotted them. He was pretty sure they were only out for surveillance reasons, but that implied an attack sometime in the future by another party. One who would use the information they'd gathered.

Rogue was seated on the very edge of his peripheral vision, staring straight ahead stonily. She was in many ways the most powerful woman he'd ever met, but she was also his father's love. To a degree, that made her Bishop's mother and he intended to protect her and her baby, no matter what. Since coming into the past, he'd lost almost all ties to the world he'd grown up in. Family was really the only thing he had left, just as it was the only thing which made living in that future world bearable.

Bishop debated what to do. He could pretend ignorance, but that would result in the other car being led back to the mansion and Bishop had no intention of allowing that to happen. He could lose them, but that would put them on their guard in the future. Or, he could catch them now and find out who sent them. It was the riskiest of the three, but strategically the best choice, with one problem.

He glanced at Rogue. She was clutching the edge of her seat so tightly she'd crushed it. Her face was like a mask. He knew she was invulnerable. He'd been there when the doctor examined her and assured her that she could crash through a building at high speed without causing a miscarriage, but he didn't want to endanger her unnecessarily.

"Rogue, I want to capture them and find out who sent them. Do you concur?"

She was silent a moment, then nodded. "Get them."

"I'll stop the car and let you out. Fly as high as you can and wait for me."

Her face twisted and hardened. "Ah'm goin' with you," she decided. He could see he wasn't going to change her mind, not without taking time he didn't have.

Bishop slammed his foot down on the gas and swung the wheel hard to the left. The car U-turned on the spot, tires screaming. Other cars honked their horns loudly as they swerved around him and one of them sideswiped him, talking off half the paint on the left side panel, along with the side view mirror. Bishop ignored the damage and gunned the engine at the follower. Rogue sat beside him, unfazed.

That car had already stopped and was backing up wildly. Forced to its left by the cars behind it, it bumped over the meridian into the southbound lane. Bishop went over the meridian as well, sparks thrown up by the undercarriage. Barely missing a taxi, he floored it after the other car, which was a few hundred feet away and doing its own U-turn so it'd be facing in the right direction. Straightened out now, it began to put on speed.

Within seconds, Bishop hit ninety miles an hour chasing it. The car he drove didn't look like much, but he and Wolverine had been working on it and it was fast. Unfortunately, it didn't corner well at high speeds yet.

The other car turned left at a red light intersection onto another main road. Bishop tried the same and went too wide, ending up on the sidewalk and still chasing as pedestrians dove screaming out of the way.

"Bishop! Ya gonna kill somebody!"

Bishop fought the car over a fire hydrant and back onto the street. The other car had taken advantage of their near collision to almost double its lead. He knew they'd escape unless he did something soon.

"Charge me."

Rogue stared at him. "What?"

"Use Gambit's powers and charge me."

"But - our powers cancel each other out."

He went through another intersection, barely missing getting broadsided. There were crashes behind him. "Charge my shirt. Something where I can absorb it."

She grabbed his coat and felt the energy hum into it. Immediately, his own powers kicked in and he absorbed the energy, bringing him to full strength in seconds.

"That's enough," he told her and rolled down the window. Extending his arm, he fired a lance of pure white energy at the fleeing car.

The rear carriage exploded, leaping up and twisting around as it slammed the car into the side of a building. Seeing someone clamber out and run, Bishop breathed a silent curse for airbags and hit the brakes.

"Wait right here," he ordered Rogue and raced after the escapee.

The man, or woman, since Bishop couldn't get a clear look, raced down the sidewalk and into an alley. Bishop followed, then stopped. It was a dead end with nowhere for an ordinary human to go to. He looked suspiciously at the lowest rooftop, thirty feet above his head. He'd have to bring Wolverine back, to see if he could pick up a scent.

Then he heard a loud explosion. "Rogue!" He yelled, running back the way he'd come.

Rogue was standing on the sidewalk with a dozen other people, hands on her belly as she stared at the gutted remains of the crashed car. Bishop ran up to her. "Are you all right?"

"Ah'm fine. It just blew up, ah wasn't even near it. He got away?"

"Yes, but he may have left a scent. I-" The alley went up the same as the car. "Hmm. Get in the car, Rogue."

She did as he said as he hit the emergency button on his communicator. The Blackbird would intercept them on the way home, along with a dozen X-Men ready for combat. He wasn't taking any more chances.

It was a blisteringly hot night in New Orleans. Remy LeBeau had left his windows and balcony doors open and lay on his side on top of his covers, nude under a fine, lacy sheet of mosquito netting.

His mind wasn't aware of the heat though. It was away in a cooler city, perfectly merged with another mind.

They both slept, heartbeats, breathing, brain patterns all matched, sharing the same dreams of flight and dancing. They'd both reached the point where neither could truly sleep well without that merging though, being unconscious, neither knew it.

Remy felt the baby kick and woke at the same time as Rogue did. Disoriented by the Gestalt, he sat up, pulling the mosquito netting off his face. He was hot, bored and horny.

"Dis is what I get from delayin' puttin' in de air conditionin'," he muttered as he stood up and stumbled towards the bathroom for a glass of water. Halfway there, he stopped as he felt water slide down his throat.

"Well..." Heading back to the bed, he collapsed face down across it. "Ah, Rogue, why couldn' you be here now?" His body ached for her, and with a sigh he rolled onto his back, pulling the thin netting up over him.

I wonder what y' feelin', mignonne, he thought idly and focused on her. He still couldn't pick up her emotions, unless it was a single, overriding one such as fear, but he could pick up physical sensations. At the moment, she was lying on her back, her belly heavy. He couldn't tell for sure if she were aroused or not.

Maybe I c'n change dat, he thought playfully. If Rogue didn't like it, she'd let him know, probably in a painful way, but it was still worth a try.

Delicately, he traced a finger up his abdomen and across his chest to his throat. Linked to her as he was, it felt halfway like his hand was tracing up her skin, over the mound of her stomach and between her breasts. He felt her shiver and grinned.

"Well, maybe y' ain' gonna be disin'erested after all. Now, what t' do 'bout dis...?"

He closed his eyes and traced the lines of his face, of her face, running his hands through long hair. She let him, lying back without interference or help.

"Aw, c'mon, chere. Y' can' let me do all de work."

It struck him that this was silly, and not particularily fair. The woman was close to being seven months pregnant, after all. With a sigh of regret, he stopped.

Merde. With a groan, he tried vainly to relax.

Then he felt a feather light touch on his lips. His eyes snapped open as the grin returned.

"So, mignonne, you tellin' me y' want t' play too?" The touch moved lower, caressing the soft skin of his nipple. "Yah, you def'nately do."

He stroked her breasts and stomach, feeling her hand move downwards towards his engorged penis. She was just about to grasp it and he was wondering if it was possible to have sex with someone while they were in another city when the phone rang.

Gambit jumped so high he almost hit the canopy of his bed. Cursing, he scrambled for the receiver.

"Dis better be good."

"Come to de Labyrinth immediately," Jacque ordered him. "Dere's a Council meetin'." He hung up.

"Merde!" The young mutant sat on the side of the bed. "Sorry, Roguie, but I gotta go."

He had no idea if she understood, then he felt the ghost of her hand run up the underside of his penis. It was more than enough to push the startled Cajun right over the edge.

"Whoops," he muttered as he looked at the mess he'd just made of the mosquito netting. "Dat was immature." He chuckled and hugged himself, and her, tightly. "T'anks, chere, I needed dat." Rolling the netting into a ball and tossing it into a corner to be washed later, he headed to the bathroom for a shower.

There were guards on the door to the Council Chamber, two ageless men dressed in black, carrying swords for tradition's sake and guns for actual usefulness. The last time he'd seen them this close, they'd been partying at his wedding reception. Now, they were as much like stone as the gargoyles who guarded from the corners.

Remy walked up to them. He'd decided to wear a black tunic and pants, traditional thieves clothing and he saw a brief slicker of approval in one guard's eyes. The other one only looked annoyed.

"Dey started wit'out you."

Remy shrugged and walked up to the door. He'd expected nothing less. The guard grabbed his arm.

"I been told t' tell you t' be on y' best b'havior, an' t' 'member dat y' gave all y' power t' dem." He sounded disgusted.

Remy yanked his arm away. "How could I f'get?"

He went into the room to see a fire roaring in the fireplace and the entire Council seated around the table, the chair at the head of the table left empty for him.

"Welcome, Remy," Jacque said in a very cold tone of voice. "We 'spected you half an hour ago."

"Why?" Remy muttered under his breath.

"Oh, as long as I've known him, Remy's been notorious for being late. I'd feel lost if he changed now."

That voice. He knew that voice. He'd heard it in his dreams at first, then in his nightmares. It was the voice of a woman he'd never loved, even when he was sleeping with her, but had learned very much to hate.

Stepping closer to the table, he came to where he could see her sitting at the far end, a cruel eyed, sallow faced man standing behind her. She had long, wavy blonde hair and sharp, blood red nails. She was dressed in a tight, revealing red costume. Once, he believed her sexy in it. Now he only thought she looked cheap.

"Hello, Remy," Candra said sweetly.

Remy stared at the Benefactress of his Guild, mouth working soundlessly. He'd struggled so hard to get the Guild to see how evil she was, and now it were as though he'd never even tried. He wanted her gone.

But how do you convince people to banish someone when she gives them immortality?

"I am not stayin' at de same table wit' dat woman," he grated as he pointed at her. Behind her, the Tithe Collector whom he'd thought he'd killed bristled. "An' if any a y' got any sense, y'll be leavin' wit' me." He turned and stormed out the door. Not surprisingly, no one did.

Remy strode down the passage away from the room, turned a corner and slammed a fist against the damp stone wall. It was always cold in the passageways.

"God damn!" He swore.

It was because of Candra that he'd been tricked into giving up his power by the Council. They knew how much he hated her, and as the true leader of the Guild, he'd be able to break any of their ties to her, with none of them having any choice but to follow him.

True leader. He wiped the slime off his bruised knuckles. He didn't know what that meant. He'd been floating through life too long. He'd let the Council take his power away because he hadn't cared enough to pay attention. It didn't matter how much he hated Candra and how he knew she saw both Guilds only as playthings. He'd forfeited his right to have a say. And even his staunchest supporters knew it. No one would stand up for him in that room.

Remy walked down endless, dark corridors, not bothering with a light, until he came to the Guild temple. It was the last place he'd seen his father alive and he stared at the glowing candles sadly.

"How much a dis'ppointment am I t' y', Poppa?"

There was no answer, of course, but his own mind supplied his father's voice.

"Y' got two choices, boy. Y' c'n fight for what y' wan', an' damn anybody dat say no, or y' c'n crawl into a li'l hole an' wait 'til de giants pass y' by."

Remy looked down. That advice had made him a Master thief and gotten him into the Guild, but it never seemed to work when he was dealing with other people.

"De giants always walk over me, Poppa," he admitted. A slight smile touched his lips. "'Cept for wit' de X-Men a course. Den again, I never try t' be leader dere. I wonder how Scott always keep us misfits t'gether?"

His head snapped up, his eyes wide. "I wonder..."

The phone ringing woke Jean out of a sound sleep. Reaching out with her mind, she TKed the receiver over to her.

"H'lo," she mumbled.

"Jean?"

"Whoozit?" she asked, still more than half asleep. It'd been a long day.

"C'est moi, Remy."

Jean blinked, coming awake far more rapidly than she had been. "Remy?! Where are you?"

"Still in N'Awlins. C'n I talk t' Scott?"

Jean blinked again, looking over at her husband. He was sleeping on his back, ruby quartz goggles covering his eyes, his mouth hanging open while he snored gently. "You want to talk to Scott?" Remy never wanted to talk to Scott.

"Oui."

He was speaking a lot of french. Jean had noticed before that he tended to revert to his native language when he was shy about something, or not sure how to express himself.

"Sure, Remy. Hang on a second."

#Scott!#

Scott sat up, instantly awake at her telepathic summons. #What is it?# he asked.

#Remy's on the phone. He wants to talk to you.#

#You're kidding.#

Jean smiled. #Nope. I think he's a little nervous.#

Shaking his head at the wonders of the universe, Scott reached for the phone.

"Hello?" Scott asked. He could feel Jean's presence in his mind, telepathically listening in and shooed her away. She pouted at him, then got up and left the room.

"Bonjour..."

Scott frowned. Something sounded odd in the Cajun's voice. "Gambit, are you all right?"

A short, bitter bark of laughter answered him. Something was definately wrong. "Oh, I be okay as I can, I s'pose."

"Are you coming back to the X-Men?"

Remy's laughter faded into a sigh. "I wish dat I could, Scott, I really do. But dere too much keepin' me here."

Scott pushed back the covers so he could sit on the side of the bed. "Do you need me to bring the X-Men to you?"

"You do dat f' me?" He actually sounded surprised, and grateful.

"Of course."

Remy chuckled softly, then sighed again. "T'anks, mon ami. Dat mean more t' me dan you could ever know. But de X-Men can' help me wit' dis mess I in."

Scott frowned, trying to think of why Remy would call him of all people. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

A long silence.

"Remy?"

"Oui..."  he whispered. "I need y' advice."

Scott's jaw dropped open, but he managed to keep his surprise out of his voice. "What do you need to know?"

"How you do it!"

"Do... what?"

"Lead!" Scott could imaging him waving his arms around as he spoke. "Y' in charge a some of de stubbornist people in de world an' y' keep us a team. Even me, an' I don' like you. Sorry, but it true. I need t' know how y' get a bunch a people who don' like y' an' don' respect y' to do somet'ing you know is right, but none of dem agree."

Scott blinked in total surprise. "Uh... I see. Um, I'm not sure what to tell you."

"Y' gotta tell me somethin'!"

Scott stood, rubbing a hand vigorously through his already messy hair. "It's- it's almost a state of mind, Remy."

"What dat mean?"

He yawned. "You have to understand that you are the leader. The one in charge. And no matter what happens you still will be."

"Dis s'posed t' give me self confidence or somet'ing?"

Scott found himself smiling. "Pretty much, yes. If you have faith in yourself then people around you will too."

Remy groaned. "Yeah, well, de people here t'ink I be an immature kid an' I t'ink dey may be right."

It was the first time Scott had heard Remy admit to a personal weakness. He sounded tired as well. The Cajun had gone through a lot of changes since he left the X-Men.

Scott wondered what to say. He'd never cared much for Gambit, but he'd tried to base his opinion of him on more than just his first impressions.

"Gambit, I think of you as many things, but I've never thought of you as a 'kid'."

The Cajun chuckled with far more assurance than before. "Den I guess it be too bad it not you I have t' convince. So, I have t' have faith in m'self. Is dat all?"

The leader of the X-Men rolled his eyes at that one. "Think, Remy. You have to think. If you anticipate everything, nothing can surprise you, and surprises are one of the fastest things to bring a leader down."

"Oh, trust me, I know all 'bout surprises. What y' supposed t' do 'bout it?"

"Dont' run from it. Face it head on, rationally and intelligently. Don't listen to your emotions but your mind, and always take care to recognize where the danger is coming from and who your enemies are. When you're surprised by something, learn everything you can about it. Knowledge really is power and you can't have a realistic response based on ignorance."

"Right. Gotcha. Be rat'nal, recognize de enemy, learn everyt'ing y' can." He paused and Scott could almost sense him grinning. "So how often you have t' face surprises?"

"When you were here? Daily."

"Hey!"

He chuckled. "One more thing."

"Yah?"

"When you're uncertain, don't show it. When people are depending on you, you have to be their strength. Even when they're tearing you down."

"I... see. Well, bluffin' be somet'ing dis Cajun boy do very well. I jus' hope dat I c'n pull it off dis time. T'anks, Scottie."

"You're welcome."

Remy hesitated before hanging up. "Uh? Scott?"

"Yes?"

"Uh, I jus' wan'ed t' say... I'm sorry... for bein' so difficult when I was dere." He hung up.

Scott raised an eyebrow. Remy really had changed since he left.

Less than a minute later, the door opened and Rogue flew awkwardly in, followed by Jean and Bishop.

"Is Remy still on th' phone? Ah want ta talk ta him."

Scott turned towards the newest surprise of the evening. "He just hung up, Rogue."

"Damn! That man is impossible! Cain't even send me a postcard." She kicked irritably at a chair and waddled back out of the bedroom, Bishop tagging obediently along.

Scott looked at Jean. #I thought she was mad at him.#

She shrugged. #Love forgives, Scott. Remy's lucky.#

Scott frowned. #I wouldn't be so sure of that.#

Remy took a deep breath outside the Council chamber, ignoring the two guards as much as they did him. Scott's words were fresh in his mind.

"Have faith in yourself."

He nodded in agreement, flexing his hands nervously. I have faith. Jus' 'member what he said. Knowledge is power, an' t' start gettin' it, y' gotta go into dat room.

Before his nerve could break, he pushed open the doors and strode in, his most charming grin on his face.

The Council looked up at him in surprise, as did Candra and the Tithe Collector.

"Remy? Why are you here?"

Gambit shrugged as he walked nonchalantly up to the table and poured himself a glass of wine from a decanter there. "I be de hereditary leader of de T'ieves Guild, n'est pas?" Most of the Council looked puzzled, Julien annoyed. "Well, dat means I can' f'get my respons'bilities as host an' my obligation t' a guest." He sat down in the chair they had to reserve for him as head of the Guild. He lifted his glass towards Candra.

"My apologies for my rudeness earlier an' my toast t' y' health." He sipped and the Council scrambled to mimic him. Candra watched him, amused.

"How gallant," she laughed. "You never cease to amaze me. Where were those manners when we were together in Paris?"

Remy took another sip, then smiled over the rim of the glass. Musta been de comp'ny, he thought. His reply, however, was more in keeping with what Scott would say, with a little of his own spirit mixed in.

"I was jus' a boy den. You should know, since you be de one who taught me what it means t' be a man."

She smiled, not catching his double meaning, and raised her glass to him. "Then let's toast to old friends."

His glass joined hers. "An' de chance t' learn everyt'ing we can 'bout each other."

An' I do mean everyt'ing.

With utmost care, Remy crawled through the bracken. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of the Vieux Carre, the French Quarter, packed end to end with people, all listening and dancing to the zydeco music, honky-tonk, jazz, R&B and even top 40 that made up the thriving night life of New Orleans.

In the park where he crawled, it was quiet and deserted, except for the soft moans of a young couple who'd crept away from the crowds to express their own joy of life to one another. Remy grinned as he passed them only a few meters away without their noticing.

enjoy it, mes amis. It part a de good times.

He kept crawling. He could more easily have walked, but there were sensors laced around his destination at knee and waist level. Tripping them wouldn't be too much of a problem since they didn't give a visual reading and tourists set them off all the time, but they kept a very accurate reading of peoples' comings and goings and he didn't want to leave this way.

He could see his goal up ahead but didn't increase his speed and it was five minutes before he was at the side of an old wishing well, rewiring the sensors that had been placed around it and just inside to catch people about to do what he was trying. It took a while to rework the sensors, since the security was good.

Should be, since it T'ieves dat set it up.

Satisfied at last that everything was in order, he checked it all again anyway and stood, adjusted his mask and hopped onto the edge of the well, then stepped off and dropped.

For a few seconds, he plunged down the original cobbled shaft of the well. Then it opened up into the hewn stone of a Labyrinth air vent.

Quickly, Remy pulled out a hook gun, aimed and fired. It sent a steel spike shooting into the wall, followed by fifty feet of high tensile cord. Bracing himself, he let it yank him to a halt and caught himself as he swung against the shaft wall.

Satisfied that the line would support him long enough, he hooked it to his belt and pulled out his climbing gear. Very useful for going up buildings or down air shafts.

Expertly, he set up a more secure system by touch in the darkness and released the cord from the hook gun. Grasping the end, he sent a weak charge up it, just enough to disintegrate it and the spike. He didn't like using his powers on a job, but sometimes they were just too useful.

His new safety line in place, he quickly rappelled almost to the bottom of the shaft, two hundred meters below the surface. He didn't go quite that far, since there were guards patrolling the bottom, but stopped fifty feet up, at a side tunnel used to let air into the rest of the Labyrinth. Releasing these lines as well, he destroyed them the same as he had the first, along with the rest of the climbing equipment. Coming back this way would be much harder, though he'd scaled worse with his bare hands. Besides, if he absolutely had to, he might be able to tap into Rogue and fly, though he didn't want to depend on that. Especially when finding out he couldn't would come after he'd jumped off a great height.

Remy moved down the air shaft, a rough tunnel almost as wide as a regular passage since it'd been dug by men. It was quite a remarkable achievement, though the entire Labyrinth was a wonder of engineering and sheer determination. It was still being expanded upon even now.

As he moved, he knew what sensors there'd be and where they'd be found, but he acted as though he didn't and looked for anything. He didn't find any surprises though.

De Guild be gettin' lazy in it's old age. He was rather disgusted by that. Breaking through X-Men security was much harder to do, though it wasn't impossible. Twice now, Scott had sent him off for a week's holiday while they upgraded the mansion's security systems. Then he'd come back to see if he could break in. He'd pulled it off both times, though it'd gotten more difficult and there were parts of the mansion even he couldn't get into.

Up ahead, Remy saw a light. He hadn't been using any light himself since his night designed eyes could see clearly in all but pitch darkness.

With the light came the sound of running water and he moved to the edge of the air vent to see an artificial river below him that carried all the water pumped out of the Labyrinth. It was being sent to rejoin the Mississippi River that much of it came from. It also carried the human waste of the Guild and the stench of it in the enclosed space was horrendous.

There was a ledge above the river for workers and Remy headed along it upriver. There were no sensors and he made good time.

Suddenly, he heard a sound up ahead, and without hesitating, he drove a bolt attached to a line he wore into a crack in the side of the ledge and jumped into the freezing cold, fetid water. Holding his breath, he ducked his head underwater as two workers went by.

When they were gone, he climbed out and stripped off his dark thieves' clothing. Soaked and smelly, they were useless to him. He destroyed the uniform, then charged just the outside of his heavy leather tool bag to remove the damp and smell from it, as well as any water or matter on his own skin. It tingled as it fell away and he pulled a set of street clothes out of his pack to change into. He really should have brought another uniform, but he hadn't expected to go swimming in sewage. At least the T-shirt was dark. The last thing he did was to spray some scentless airfreshener around where he'd changed, to remove any smell his charging powers may have left. Five minutes after he heard the workers, he was on his way again. Fourty feet later, he used the hook gun to swing across the river and climbed into another air vent.

The air vent ended above the alter room with its candles and cross. There was someone kneeling in there, so he settled down to wait.

Technically, he shouldn't know to come here for what he sought. It was the most closely guarded secret in the Guild, after all. But when he was a child, he'd explored the Labyrinth and found a secret door in this temple. One he'd never told anyone about.

He knew he could have just walked into the room the regular way instead of taking the roundabout route he had, but he wasn't taking any chances on someone connecting him to the Labyrinth tonight. He didn't know who all his enemies were and even his friends might turn against him for this. It was better, much as he hated to admit it, to treat everyone as a potential threat.

Finally, the genuflecter left and he jumped down to the floor and ran to one of many alcoves along the wall, vanishing behind the curtain before anyone could pass the room's open door. Quickly, he grabbed one stone on the wall, pushed it in and twisted. The back wall swung open to reveal stone steps leading down. He stepped inside, let the door close behind him and concentrated. He'd first found the door because his powers let him sense the people behind it. Now they told him it was empty and he hurried down the steps.

They led to a small stone room, lit by a single tall candle beside a table in the center of the room. On that table was a rack holding three vials. There were no guards protecting the vials, no security system. They were guarded by secrecy and the fact that, until now, no one would dream of stealing them.

Remy held his breath as he stared at the components of the Elixir of Life, the lifeblood of the Guild. The vials were tiny, each holding mere ounces of three seperate compounds, but there was enough there to last the Guild for seven years. Only the Council knew that it was in here. Remy supposed that he as Guild Master should know too, but no one had told him. It made his theft of them easier, but it also made him wonder what else they hadn't told him.

Bringing several duplicate vials out of his pack, Remy replaced the three vials on the table. Hopefully, by the time the switch was noticed, he'd be done with what he had to do.

All things considered, it was one of the easiest pinches he'd ever made, and one of the most important.

Carefully, he went back up the stairs. Getting out would be far easier than getting in, since there were lots of one-way bolt holes in case of emergencies, and he didn't have time to go back out the same as he came in. He had several more visits to make tonight.

Then he was going to send Lapin on a little errand.

"You won' be able t' sneak in. Jus' go t' de front door."

His cousin's warning was clear in his mind as Lapin crept through the woods framing the Westchester mansion's estate. He'd promised Remy he wouldn't try anything, but letting such a wonderful challenge go by was unheard of. Grinning, the fifty year old thief worked his way through the security system protecting the forest. This was the best security he'd ever seen. He'd definitely have to bring back some expensive little momento for his Tithe box.

He crouched at the edge of the lawn before the mansion. It looked clear, but he put on some special goggles to take a closer look and clicked his teeth in disgust. The entire lawn was crisscrossed with laser detection beams. This had just gotten a whole lot harder, but he was fairly certain he could still pull it off.

"Goin' somewhere, Bub?"

Startled, Lapin ducked and rolled, careful not to roll right into the path of the lasers, but far enough away from the man who'd found him that he could get his bearings. Unlike his cousin, Lapin was no fighter, and when a job went wrong, his only thought was to get away. Especially now that he could see the man. He was short, thick and vicious. That's all Lapin needed to know.

The man stepped into the light, glaring at him with feral eyes. "Ya picked th' wrong house ta rob, bub," he growled and extended three long metal claws from the back of each hand.

"Oh, shit." Lapin tried to smile charmingly, even as he scrambled back on his hands and butt away from him, right back against a tree. "Rob? Moi? Why, I never do a t'ing like dat! Never!"

The man glared at him. "You sound like a Cajun I know." He inhaled deeply. "Smell like him too. Whatta you think, Bishop?"

Suddenly, the tree he'd been sitting against reached down and grabbed him around the throat. Lapin then found himself yanked right off the ground and held nose to nose with a massive black man with an M tattooed over his right eye.

"What are you doing here?" He grated.

"Nothin'!" The nozzle of a gun was pressed against his head. "Remy sent me!"

Both men paused, then Lapin was dropped to the ground. "The Professor wants to see you."

"I got his bag," the other man called.

With the little man watching, Lapin was frisked and divested of every tool he had on him, then led to the house. Inside, he barely had time to admire the architecture and furnishings before he was dragged upstairs and into an office filled with people. Obviously, they were all mutants and he began to wish he'd taken Remy's advice as he was plopped down into a straight backed chair.

A bald man behind the desk regarded him for a moment. "I am Professor Charles Xavier," he said at last. "And you are?"

Lapin grinned. "Lapin Dubois of N'awlins. I be Remy LeBeau's cousin on his father's side. He sent me."

Xavier frowned. "Through the woods?"

Lapin's grin widened.

"Oh, yeah, he's like Gambit, all right."

A man in red sunglasses shook his head. "When in doubt, chutzpah. They must be related."

"No kiddin'."

Xavier lifted a hand and they all quieted. "Why did Remy send you and not come himself"

Lapin shrugged. "Too much t' do? No cab fare? He wan'ed t' share dat greetin' wit' somebody else? How should I know?"

Xavier was beginning to look a little frustrated. "Why did he send you?"

"T'ought you'd never ask. I de messenger boy." He gestured towards the large duffle bag in the corner. "I brought some stuff f' you."

"Professor!" The black man protested. "That bag hasn't been checked for explosives yet."

"Calm down, Bish. Remy ain't gonna send his own cousin all this way just ta blow us up."

Lapin looked towards the speaker and whistled. She was gorgeous, with long russet hair that had a white streak through it and red on black eyes. She was also extremely pregnant. Remy sure knew how to pick them.

"Au chantais, mademoiselle," he breathed as he lunged out of his chair to kiss her hand. The next thing he knew, the black man had pinned him by his throat to the floor.

"Touch her and you will die."

"Y'know," lapin croaked, trying to sound nonchalant. "Remy tol' me 'bout how hon'ble all you people be. You mus' be new." The man flushed with anger.

"Easy, Bishop." A beautiful black woman Lapin would have felt honoured to take anywhere in New Orleans said. Bishop let go and Lapin stood up.

"T'ank you, cherie. I be in y' debt." She smiled and he knelt before the bag. "Y'mind?" Bishop glared at him, but made no move as Lapin unzipped the bag and pulled out a large, square, heavy package. It had been a royal bitch to carry and only his oath to his cousin had kept him from opening it.

"Who here be Dr Henry McCoy?"

A blue furred... man... in glasses and a lab coat stepped forward. "I am."

Lapin blinked and handed him the package. "Uh, Remy says he wants y' t' examine de stuff in dere f' him. He lef' instructions inside. He call y' for de results in a month or so. I got no idea what in dere," he added.

The doctor read the label on the package. "Open only under controlled conditions. Hmm..." He walked out of the room thoughtfully. Everyone else stared between him and Lapin in surprise.

"Is that it?" Xavier asked.

"Nope. Got one t'ing more." He bent down again and pulled on a pair of thin leather gloves. "Don' know why I gotta wear gloves t' do dis," he muttered. Pulling a flat case out of the bag, he stood and walked towards the pregnant woman. Immediately, Bishop got between them.

"Saints, homme! Don' y' trust Remy?"

Bishop frowned, but stepped aside. Lapin grinned at the woman. "You mus' be Rogue, neh?" She nodded. "Remy tol' me you de most beau'ful woman he ever seen." She blushed. "But I t'ink he not do you justice, 'cause you be de most beautiful woman I ever seen an' I seen a lot more women dan my li'l baby cousin."

Her blush deepened. "Th-thank ya."

"Jus' tellin' de truth." He stepped around behind her. "Now, you jus' close dose eyes 'cause Remy sent a gift wit' me f' y'." Her eyes closed and he opened the case, took out what was inside, and everyone gasped as he clasped it around her neck. Rogue opened her eyes and sucked in her breath at the sight of the necklace she now wore.

"It called L'Etroile Du Tricherie," Lapin told her. "Remy says he got it when he made a huge mistake wit' a woman dat he never forgave himself f'. He wants it f' once to stand as de symbol of repairing a mistake he regrets even more, so he wan'ed y' t' have it."

"It's gorgeous," she stammered.

Lapin bent forward and whispered in her ear. "Remy also tol' me t' tell you he love you, completely. He always will an' he sell his soul t' lie b'side y' again. He sorry for all dat went wrong 'tween you."

Her eyes closed and he saw a tear run down her cheek. "It ain't his fault. Ah know that now. It was mine."

"You wan' me t' tell him dat?"

She bit her lip and nodded.

"Great!" Lapin strode back over to his bag. "Well, it been fun, but I gotta go if I gonna catch my flight." Flipping the strap over his shoulder, he headed for the door. "Remy says 'Hi' t' some a ya an' 'Go t' Hell' t' others. I let you sort out which be which."

As quickly as he could without running, he strode out of the house, through the woods, and over the fence to where he'd parked his car.

"Well, dat wasn' a total loss," he muttered with a grin at the bag, which was a fair sight heavier than it would have been empty. Then he heard a knock on the window and looked up at Bishop. "Merde!" Opening the car door, he thrust the bag at him. "Fine. Take it!" Empty handed, he gunned the motor and sped away, watching in the rear view mirror as the black man laughed.

"Saints!" He realized. "He still got my tools!"

"What y' mean, Lapin Dubois wen' t' de X-Men?! How long he dere for? Did he bring anyone back wit' him?"

Gris-Gris tried not to cringe as his mistress brought her fist crashing down on the desk. She'd been asleep and a newly awakened Belladonna was always grumpy. And to be awakened by news like this only made her angrier.

"He was dere t'night. Stayed less dan an' hour an' returned alone t' de airport. He may be back in de city already."

Belle glared at him. He was pale, not surprising since he was still healing from when Remy hurled him out the window. Belle was still amazed her husband had the power to do that. He'd been keeping secrets from her, which she especially hated.

"What else?"

"He wen' in wit' a full duffle bag. Came out wit' it empty."

"So he lef' somet'ing behind, but what?" She stared out the window thoughtfully. "My husband be up t' somet'ing an' I wanna know what." She punched the nearest wall. "Merde! We be so close now! I do not wan' Remy associatin' wit' de X-Men an' dat... woman, especially not b'fore my baby born. I need him here in N'Awlins, nice an' docile. What could he be plannin'?" She paced back and forth. "Have you been tracin' him?"

"No, Mistress. Wit' his powers-"

She waved him silent. "He'd know. I know. Damn. Maybe he not as dumb as we hope."

"You t'ink he suspect?"

Belle laughed. "Livin' cross de city an' avoidin' me de way he is? Not a chance." Her eyes narrowed. "He's doin' somet'ing else." She frowned. "Gris-Gris, take Questa an' Fifolet an' find out what Lapin knows, b'fore he gets t' Remy."

He bowed. "Oui, Mistress."

Belle headed back to her bed, pausing to get a drink of wine as she did so. If Remy were to decide to go back to the X-Men at the wrong time, it would be disastrous. Even now, her plans were balanced so precariously.

She drained the wine and disintegrated the glass with her powers. "Damn y' t' hell, Remy," she said coldly.

Lapin came out of the airport and was just hailing a cab when he saw his cousin on the sidewalk waving to him.

"Remy?" He walked over to him and they shook hands. "How you know I gonna be here?"

The younger man grinned. "Hey, I know everyt'ing."

Lapin laughed. "Yeah, right. Y' coulda warned me better, y'know. 'Specially 'bout dat big black bruiser. An' 'bout y' lady. She be tres magnifique! An' big! I t'ink she gonna give y' a big healthy son."

Remy walked with his eyes straight ahead, hands in his pockets. "I certainly hope so."

Lapin peered at his cousin closely. "You okay? Y' seem distracted."

Remy smiled. "Jus' worried 'bout you. Tell me everyt'ing dat happen."

He shrugged. "Not much t' tell. Everyt'ing wen' smooth as silk. Didn' have no trouble gettin' in. Oh, an' Rogue loved gettin' de necklace."

"Dat's nice."

Lapin looked down. "Uh, Remy, do y' t'ink it wise t' be givin' 'way L'Etroile Du Tricherie? I mean, it supposed t' go t' Candra. If y' not careful, y' ain' gonna have no Tithe f' her."

"Don' worry," he told him reassuringly. "I have great respect f' de Benefactress. I won' let her down."

Lapin stopped, suddenly feeling cold, his thieves sense screaming at him. "But you hate Candra."

"Uh..."

The thief started backing away. "You not Remy!"

He felt hands grasp his shoulders from behind. "True 'nough." Then a bolt of electricity shocked him into darkness.

"Y' fools! What y' bring him here for?!"

"He figured out Questa wasn' Remy. Who ever heard a' a t'ief dat hates de Benefactress?"

"You moron! Didn' you pay attention when Rogue was here?!"

"Sorry, Mistress."

Dazed, Lapin forced his eyes open and found himself sitting tied to a chair. Belladonna, Gris-Gris, Fifolet, Questa and Jacqueline were all standing together in the room and looked at him as he moaned.

An expression of disgust on her face, Belladonna strode over to him. Her belly was nowhere near as big as Rogue's and it didn't slow her walk at all. Grabbing his hair, she yanked his head back.

"What you doin' goin' t' de X-Men?"

Even though he was terrified, Lapin managed a smile. "Dis break de treaty, girlie."

"Fuck de treaty. I made de treaty. No one gonna know 'bout dis day."

"Kill me an' dey know."

Her smile was chilling. "Y' ain' gonna die, t'ief. Now talk."

"Go t' Hell."

Belle stepped back. "Y' gonna regret dat. Gris-Gris!"

Lapin felt dread fill him as the voodoo man walked up. His powers were famous throughout both Guilds.

"Do y' know how easy it be t' scare someone t' death?" He asked conversationally. "I c'n make y' heart stop an' it'll look natural." He held his hand out, filled with dust. "Shall I?"

Lapin looked desperately at Belladonna. "Y' said y' not kill me!"

She shrugged, her arms crossed above her belly. "True. But I c'n have y' scared almost t' death. So dat y' 'fraid of any sound, of de dark, of y' own shadow. So tell me what happened at de mansion. Y' gave de bitch L'Etroile Du Tricherie. Did she accept dis reconciliation gift?"

Lapin stared at the dust, afraid to breathe too deeply and inhale some. "Yes," he admitted. Forgive me, cousin!

Belle frowned. "Dat's... inconvenient. Is dat all y' went for?"

"Oui."

"Don' lie t' me, Lapin."

The dust moved closer. "Non, jus' a package! He had me give it t' de doctor. I don' know what inside!"

Belle considered his words for a moment, then smiled. "T'ank you for y' honesty." She turned to her confidants. "I wan' de watch on de woman doubled. If Remy goes t' Westchester or she tries t' come here, I wan' t' know."

"Oui, Mistress. But de bodyguard make dat difficult."

Her eyes narrowed. "What be dis talk of 'difficult'? Are we not de greatest of assassins?"

"Oui, Mistress."

"Den don' waste my time." She looked back at the frightened Lapin. "An' what t' do wit' you? Y' sure y' don' know what in de package?"

"Non... Mistress."

Belle chuckled at that. "Good boy." He looked down in shame.

Questa cleared her throat. "What we do 'bout him, Mistress?"

"I'll have t' use de telepathy de Benefactress gave me t' wipe his mind." Lapin stared at her. "Oh, don' worry. I jus' take de last few hours. Any more an' Remy get suspicious. I don' wan' t' do anyt'ing t' bring him t' look closely at me."

Gris-Gris looked worried. "Mistress, Is dis wise? Y' already usin' all y' telepathy."

"Don' tell me t'ings I already know," she snapped. "It don' matter none. He not remember anyt'ing he see."

She turned back to Lapin and seemed to... relax. Lapin gaped at her as she seemed to shimmer, then come back into focus.

"Mon dieu," he whispered.

Then she was a burning presence in his mind and he forgot all of the secrets he'd just learned.

"Easy, chile. We were worried 'bout you."

Lapin opened his eyes. "Tante?"

The black woman smiled. "You been sick, boy. Worse fever I seen other dan what de Elixir brings." She smoothed the covers down. "But y' gonna be fine."

Remy sat down on the bed. He smiled, but the mutant looked tired. "Good t' see y', cousin."

"You too. You look 'bout as bad as I feel."

He chuckled. "Yeah, well, c'n I ask y' somet'ing? 'Bout de errand I sent y' on?"

Lapin forced a weak smile. "Don' worry, cousin. Y' doctor McCoy got de package."

Remy sighed, a little of the tension seeming to go out of him. "An' de necklace? Y' gave it t' Rogue?"

Lapin looked away. "I did, but she didn' say anyt'ing."

"...Oh." He stood and turned his back.

"Let it go, chile," Tante soothed. "It not y' fault."

Remy shook his head. "Don' feel right. She don' feel like she be dat way."

Confused, Lapin tried to change the subject. "What was in de package, cousin? What y' up to?"

Remy looked back at him. "T' be what I never wan'ed. De sole lord an' master of de T'ieves Guild."

There was a definate advantage to being able to fly. Rogue floated down the passageway, her feet barely an inch above the ground. It took a bit of effort, but it lifted some of the stain off her tired body. She may have been invulnerable, but she still felt the weight of the baby inside her.

Only three more weeks, she reminded herself. An' then it'll all be over. The thought of labour was one she could do without, but she was truly looking forward to meeting her baby for the first time.

Ah wonder what he or she gonna look like? God, ah hope it doesn't have mah hair. Or Remy's eyes. Ah just want it ta be normal.

She flinched at the thought. Trying to be normal had cost her Remy, and chances were good her baby would be a mutant. Her heart ached at all the things her child would have to live with if it were. She just wanted it to have a happy, normal childhood.

Normal. There was that word again. Face it, gal. Nobody's kid evah had a normal childhood an' th' little guy's gonna get picked on whether he's blond haired an' blue eyed or bright green. Actually, she hoped the baby had Remy's hair colour, and his smile.

She sighed. Ah wonder if ah'm evah gonna see him again. On the edge of her awareness, she could sense he was sitting down, with something against his ear. Probably a phone.

She missed him. She was amazed by how much. The Gestalt made it worse, and she longed to be with him, no matter where they were.

Ah think, if he could, he'd come home. Her hand stroked her belly. Once ya get born, little baby, you an' me are goin' ta New Orleans. If ya can't bring Mohammed ta th' mountain, after all...

She giggled as she floated into Hank's lab. She'd spent the last month wondering what he was working on for Remy, but Hank had put her and the rest of the X-Men off. This morning, however, she'd overheard him tell the Professor that he was finished with his research and while Bishop was busy in the Danger Room, she was determined to find out what the big secret was.

There were vials of blood and petri dishes filled with carefully labelled tissue samples on the nearest table. Rogue glanced at the names on two of them.

Jenette Dubois.

Jean-Luc LeBeau.

She blinked. "What in the--"

"I'm quite sure of my results."

Rogue looked up. "Hank?"

"Okay, I'm glad I sent y' de right stuff, den. C'n y' tell me what y' found out?"

Rogue's eyes widened and her stomach clenched as her heart sped up its beat. That was Remy's voice.

As quickly as she could, Rogue hurried forward, then stopped by a large Cray computer. Beast was standing a few meters away with his back to her, talking to a speaker phone. Rogue felt a pang of regret.

"These tissue samples you sent me are quite amazing," Beast was saying. "However were you able to acquire them?"

"By goin' t' a graveyard," Remy answered. "How y' t'ink?"

He sounds so tired, she thought.

"That... must have been difficult."

A sigh came from the phone. "So it anot'er t'ousand years of torment in Hell f' me. I'll barely notice it on top of de rest."

Beast leaned back in his chair, his fur puffing up in concern. "Are you all right, Remy?"

"I'm tired, Beast," he admitted. "I feel like I been treadin' in deep water an' I'm hopin' y' c'n t'row me a lifeline."

"Well, I fear I can't say my discoveries will be terribly reassuring."

"Jus' tell me."

Hank picked up a clipboard. "All right, I've learned quite a bit about the Elixer components you sent me."

"Y' know how it works?"

"Not precisely, but with the assistance of the Sh'iar technology we have, I've been able to determine what it does."

A slight pause. "I gather den dat it does more dan give immortality?"

Beast chuckled. "Your astuteness has increased monumentally, my dear boy."

"Yeah, well, I learn de hard way what happens t' someone who don' pay attention."

Beast was silent a long moment, digesting that, then shook himself. "Yes, well, I suppose I should return to the issue at hand."

"I'd 'preciate it."

Hank sat up straight, wrapping his legs around the stool. "To begin, the Elixir doesn't grant true immortality. Instead, it slows the aging process significantly. I estimate that a single drink of it will enable a person to live for up to two hundred years, if not more."

Remy was silent a few seconds. "Dat's... sure somet'ing, ain' it?" To Rogue's ears, he sounded slightly shaken.

"Yes, but I fear that is the single benefit of the Elixir."

"Great. So what's de downside? Ot'er dan de fact dat it c'n kill y' or drive y' insane if y' drink it?"

"True, those are some of the possiblities. The cells may break down because of it. But they're not the worst of the side effects."

"Dere's more?!"

Hank rifled through his notes. "Were you aware that the Elixir is addictive?"

"...It is?" His voice was slightly high pitched and Rogue ached for him.

"Indeed. Not the way cocaine or nicotine is, but anyone who takes it will feel a slow need for more grow within a few years. Probably about five or so."

"Great, so I got dat t' look forward to."

Hank turned, his face stricken, and saw Rogue. He looked like he was going to say something, then turned back to the phone. Rogue walked up by his side.

"Remy, did you take the Elixir?"

"Not intent'nally, but oui."

Rogue looked at the phone worridly as Hank sighed and consulted his notes "Luckily, the Sh'iar tests indicate that the addiction can be beaten. It'll begin to affect you in six years, be at its worst in seven and begin to fade by ten. It's a long time, I know. But it does give me a plethora of time to invent something to make it easier for you."

"T'ank you. Seven years t' de peak, neh? Always wondered why de Tithe Collector show up ev'ry seven years t' bring de Elixir."

"To tighten Candra's grip on the Guild, it would seem." Hank moved so Rogue could take his seat.

"Sneaky. So if immortality not 'nough of a lure, de Guilds still got a reason t' serve her an' get more a de Elixir. I wonder if dis 'nough t' convince de families t' stand 'gainst her." He didn't sound convinced.

Hank glanced up at Rogue. "The repurcussions don't end there, I am afraid."

The Cajun sighed. "Why does dat not surprise me? Maybe I should get a drink 'fore y' tell me any more."

"Now, now. At her late stage of pregnancy, that could have a detrimental effect on Rogue." He smiled at her. She blushed and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Yeah, I know. Jus' been a long day."

Hank's smile faded. "It's going to get longer."

"May as well dump de rest on me. Y' on a roll, after all."

"Hmm. there are a number of additional side effects of the Elixir, the most immediately noticable of which is sterility in women."

"Hehn?"

"Any woman who ingests the Elixir will be incapable of conceiving children."

Remy laughed. "I t'ink y' messed up dat test, doctor."

Rogue glanced at Hank to see he actually looked offended. "Are there many mothers in the Guild, then?"

"Non. Don' got too many women in de Guild at all an' none of dem even married. I know dat not true 'cause Belladonna took de Elixir and she's, well, pregnant."

Rogue almost fell off her seat in shock. He couldn't have! He promised! She felt like she was going to cry.

Hank saw the look on her face and clasped her shoulder reassuringly. "Is it safe for me to assume that you are the father of this child?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "I didn' wan' to, but you know how it is." He sighed sadly. "It's hard t' say no t' an assassin holdin' a knife."

"Why did she do that?" Hank asked. The same question echoed in Rogue's mind as well.

"Why? 'Cause Assassin leaders lose dere position if dey don' make an heir. Anyway, it prove Belle fertile."

"I suppose it does," Hank murmured thoughtfully. "There could be many variables causing her to remain fertile, not the least of which is the Elixir of Power you say the Assassins use."

"Could be. I don' know anyt'ing 'bout it."

Rogue barely listened for the next several minutes, staring at her hands as she analyzed her emotions, and realized they were dominated by a single thought.

If she ever saw Belladonna again, she was going to rip her apart.

It doin' what t' our genes?!"

Rogue lifted her head at the sound of horror in Remy's voice.

"It's directly affecting the DNA of the men who drink it, and through them, their children. It's shortening the average lifespan of every descendant of a Guild member."

"Oh, God. De families..." Remy sounded like he was in shock. "De Guild been havin' as many kids as it could t' make up f' all de deaths by de Assassins. Ev'body related t' ev'body else. We all t'ought dyin' 'fore sixty 'cause of de inbreedin'. People would try t' prevent it by gettin' in de Guild an' earnin' a taste of de Elixir."

"Which in turn would counteract the effects of the damaged DNA in the individual, but compound the problem in their offspring." Hank sighed. "A sad cycle indeed."

"An' all 'cause a Candra. We been sacrificin' our chil'en f' her damned immortality."

"What are you going to do?" Hank asked.

"Stop her. I can' fight her or kill her, but wit' dis, maybe... Henri, I need y' notes an' test results. I'll send Lapin f' dem t'day."

Hank nodded. "I'll have them ready for him."

"Good. An' t'ank you, Hank." He hung up.

Rogue reached reactively for the phone. "No... ah wanted ta talk ta him."

Hank was already gathering up his notes. "If I may be so bold, why didn't you?"

She bit her lip. "Ah - ah didn't know what ta say. An' he didn't ask about me."

The doctor chuckled. "He had other things on his mind. But believe me when I say you, my dear Rogue, are never far from his thoughts."

Remy put the phone down and turned to look at Lapin and Tante. They stood together, a second receiver held up between them.

"Well?"

They both stared at him, devestated, their eyes wide.

"Y' un'erstand what dis mean den?"

"De benefactress is our enemy," Tante whispered.

Remy nodded. "An' dis is what we gonna do..."

Shrieking and giggling, the children raced across the grass while Gambit sat on a park bench and watched them.

I wonder if I ever get t' sit like dis an' watch Rogue's kid play?

It bothered him that he'd thought so little about the child Rogue was about to give birth to, even though he could feel every move it made in her belly. He'd just had too many other things to think of lately, mostly his own self pity. He'd thought even less about Belle's baby, since every time he did, he remembered how it was conceived.

Bitch, he thought. He still didn't want to have anything to do with her. What kinda father dat gonna make me?

When all of this was over, he decided, he'd try and form some kind of reconciliation with Belle, so that he could be a father to his child.

He shook his head. Why am I seein' Belle as more important dan Rogue? Because he was still bending to the will of the Guild, even now.

Mon dieu. Don' I have a mind a my own?

"Good morning." Parker sat down beside him, munching from a bag of peanuts. "Nice day, isn't it?"

Remy didn't even look at him. "Y'know, my fam'ly ain' idiots. One of dese days, one of dem gonna be walkin' along an' see you talkin' t' me an' recognize you."

The detective popped a peanut into his mouth. "What would they do? Kill me?"

"Non. We ain' murd'rers. Dat's Assassins work."

"I see. My research hinted towards that. I'd gotten a few whispers of an Assassins Guild when I began looking into your Clan, but never enough to even mention it to my superiors."

Remy shrugged. Parker was fishing for information, but unlike last time, he didn't hate himself enough to give any to him. He'd always been good at keeping secrets. Only his reasons had changed now.

"What y' wan' here, detective?" With the exception of Bishop and a few other cops, Parker included, he didn't like the police. He hated the bloated, overextended system they worked for and had since long before Jean-Luc adopted him into a Guild that system would love to destroy. He'd formed that particular opinion on his own, ever since a cop picked him up off the street and he was taken to live in a foster home run by a monster. Parker wasn't going to put him in a situation like that, but he certainly was not out for Remy's best interests. He was only pretending to be Remy's friend until he got what he wanted. Still, he was the only one who believed Remy would be a better leader of the Guild than the Council. Whatever his reasons, his belief had come at a time Remy had the least faith in himself and he owed him for that.

"There was a robbery at the Louisiana Medical Research Centre," Parker explained. "Everything on a potential AIDS cure was stolen. Test samples, notes, even the computers they used. I was wondering if your Guild had anything to do with it."

They had. That was the assignment Candra had given the Guild, one Remy had bowed out of, even though it angered the Council. It was the first time he'd stood up to them successfully, which had heightened his opinion of himself tremendously.

Candra hadn't given the reason for the job, but Remy had been able to piece it together fairly easily. He knew from when he worked directly for her in Paris that one of the companies she owned was into medical research. She wanted to get a step up on her competition and sabotage them at the same time.

Parker watched his face as he lit a cigarette. "People are going to be hurt by this, Remy. All the men and women who worked at that company and the thousands who they might have found a cure for."

Remy drew a deep breath of smoke into his lungs and immediately began hacking as Rogue started. He'd pretty much had to give up smoking because of her.

The detective pounded him on the back. "Are you all right?"

Bent over, coughing while his eyes watered, Remy looked up at him. "Not'ing like it ever gonna happen again," he gasped. "I promise you dat."

"You're taking over the Guild." It wasn't a question.

Remy sat up slowly. The fit seemed to be easing as he snuffed out his cigarette. "Oui."

"You don't sound happy."

He shrugged. "All my life I been doin' de right t'ings an' de wrong t'ings. Mostly de wrong ones. More an' more, though, I find m'self tryin' t' do right. Now I am doin' what's right. I know dat, but it's right f' ev'body but me."

"How so?"

Remy watched the children play sadly, wondering if he could say anything. He'd never found it easy to talk to anyone, but Parker seemed to have fallen into the role of father confessor. Probably because he'd shown up when Remy needed one and he didn't have to interact with him in any other way.

"I don' wan' t' lead de Guild," he admitted. "I never did. I know I can lead, but I prefer t' be alone, or led by someone I respect. But if I b'come de real an' true leader of de Guild, I won' be able t' get away from it, ever. De Guild head never leave de city, an' even wit' as li'l power as I got now, I can' go anywhere."

"Says who?"

Remy blinked. "Tradition."

"So? Change the tradition or change the Guild."

"An' jus' what I s'posed t' change it into?"

Parker smiled. "Easy. Something that doesn't steal."

For the second time in less than a year, the LeBeau Clan members shuffled into the Great Hall, whispering among themselves about what was to happen, since no one knew. Remy looked at them sadly, really seeing for the first time how young they all were.

We be losin' whole gen'rations an' not even knowin' it.

With the help of the younger members of the Guild, it'd been easy to alert all of the families to assemble here, especially since the requests were phrased in such a way that it seemed he had the Council's backing without actually saying so. The Council members themselves should have been told about an hour ago. Just enough time for them to get here, but not to stop him, though they wouldn't know what he was up to either.

The families looked at him curiously as they filed to their places. He stood at the far end of the Hall from the door, dressed in traditional Guild black. Over that he wore a long, open robe in brocaded gold and black. his hair was tied back, his normally messy bangs slicked back as well. And he had his Charm powers cranked to the max. It was hard, they worked far more easily when he spoke, but to the families who entered, he looked far more impressive than he felt.

I c'n do dis. I am not stupid an' I am right. Nobody else gonna die for de Benefactress' greed.

Mentally he reached out to Rogue, and relaxed for an instant in her warmth.

"Y" sure y' c'n do dis?" Lapin whispered, mimicking his earlier thought.

Remy nodded. "Oui."

At the doors to the Great Hall, there was a commotion and the families parted to let the Council through. They were robed as well and managed to look dignified in spite of how rushed they'd been as they walked up to the young mutant.

Remy braced himself while Lapin backed away. This was it, the battle he had to win, though not a single card or punch would be thrown. He was terrified both of winning and of losing.

"Why you call de Clan here?" Jacque hissed, his normally amiable face enraged. It was the first time Remy had ever seen him angry.

Remy faced him, trying to project calm and not terror. "Dere somet'ing I be needin' t' say t' everyone. Callin' dem here de easiest way t' be sure dey all hear."

Julien grabbed his sleeve. "Y' overstep y' bounds, boy."

Carefully, Remy removed his hand from his arm. "No, I don'. I been learnin' all de traditions in de Guild an' dey all say dat anyone in the Clan has de right t' call de Clan an' de Guild t'gether in de Great Hall if dere someti'ing he t'ink be important 'nough."

"No one done dat f' two hundred years!"

"I know. But dat don' mean dat I can' do it now."

Julien glared at him suspiciously. "Don' forget, de Council be de ones t' decide if de gatherin' be justified."

Remy tried not to swallow and nodded. "I know."

"Den you c'n have y' meetin'," Jacque decided, calm once more.

"Merci."

Regally, the Council members moved to stand by the pillars and Remy looked out at the families. They were all in place.

His heart beating insanely, Remy turned and walked to the alter on the far back wall. The last time he came here, his father's body had lain on that alter. Now a pedestal took his place, upon which sat a golden throne. It was reserved for the rare ocassions when the Benefactress came herself to deliver the Elixir instead of the Tithe Collector, and Remy had needed Rogue's strength to carry it up from its vault. He turned his back to it.

"All of you know me," he called, the acoustics of the room projecting his voice to every corner. "I was declared leader in dis very Hall only eight months ago, though I have not been 'llowed t' be one 'til now. I am Remy Etienne LeBeau, an' I been robbed of my birthright." Murmurs sounded throughout the room and the Council looked either stunned or apoplectic. "So have all a you. But no more. T'day I stand witness as we take back our Clan's rights an' lives. From dis day forward, I am de one true leader of de New Orleans' T'ieves Guild."

He sat down.

Rogue yelped, dropping her book and putting both hands to her belly. Immediately, Bishop was at her side.

"What is it?"

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "Ah think ya better get me ta th' hospital, sugah. Ah'm in labour!"

There was dead silence in the Hall as everyone absorbed what he'd said and what he'd done. Then a great roar of rage welled up at him for daring to sit on the Benefactress' throne and trying to take her place.

"Dis meetin' is over!" Jacque yelled. "You gone too far!"

Remy looked at him cooly. "Shut up," he said softly.

Jacque's jaw dropped open, then his face turned to stone. "You gon' pay f' dis." At his side, Julien nodded savagely.

"Not t'day," Remy replied, letting his eyes glow a little.

The Clan was beginning to move towards him, yelling as they prepared to tear him down from the throne. Remy looked at them, amazed at how calm he felt now that the moment of no return had been passed.

"SILENCE!" he bellowed. He was tapping into Rogue's power and all the force of her strength went into that one word, along with his Charm powers. Half deafened, the families stopped their advance and stared at him in shock. No one made a sound.

In that brief quiet, every muscle in Remy's abdomen contracted, almost doubling him over in pain. An instant later, it was gone.

What de hell?!

Everyone was still staring at him, so Remy began to speak in a more normal tone, pushing the memory of the pain away.

"For hundreds of years," he started, his voice beckoning them to listen. "Ever since we came t' Louisiana, we been servin' de Benefactress. Not all a us, mind you, jus' a few. But still she permeates our lives. We steal 'cause a her. We live in dank tunnels in fear a de police 'cause a her." He leaned back in the throne. "We die 'cause a her. An' we never question it 'cause of de reward she give us. Eighty percent of what we take in return for de Elixir of Life."

Confused, the families looked up at him, as did the Council, wondering where he was going with this. Remy wondered too. He hadn't been able to work out exactly what he was going to say. It was going to have to come from the heart.

"Is it worth it?" he asked and saw Guildmembers nod. "T' live year after year wit'out agin'? Never t' die old an' tired an' frail?" He shrugged. "Would be f' me, if dat all a it."

He looked at his cousin, at the Guild members standing with their wives and children. "But it isn', is it? 'Cause dere's only 'nough Elixir for a few. De best of de Guild. Not f' people who ain' any use t' Candra, like wives."

He saw one man put an arm around a woman who looked old enough to be his mother. Their wedding bands glinted in the light.

Remy sighed. "Dere is a woman. A beautiful, intelligent woman dat means de world t' me. I wan' t' marry her, father her chil'en, an' grow old an' die wit' her. Dat ain' gonna happen. B'cause I took de Elixir, I gonna watch her grow old instead, while I still look like dis. I gonna bury her an' still keep on livin', 'cause unless I'm killed, my body ain' gonna die."

Something about those words tickled in his mind, but he didn't have time to dwell on it.

"De same gonna happen t' all of you," he pointed out. "Wives, parents, siblings, chil'en. Dey all gonna grow old an' die while y' watch.

"I ask you again, is de Elixir of Life worth it?"

"Dat's de price we chose t' pay," Jacques said loudly. "Everyone who enters de Guild goes in knowin' dey'll outlive individual gen'rations. But de families- de Clan- go on."

His words were compelling and Remy saw people nodding in agreement.

"True," he admitted. "An' again, dat be alright if dat all dere was t' it. But once again, de price we been quoted ain' de one we've had t' pay."

"Isn't it now?" Remy looked up at the new voice and froze as Candra came into the Great Hall. The families gasped and bowed to her as she passed. "Why don't you just tell us what it is then?"

"Ya know, sugah, right about now ah'm really regretting ya didn't let me go ta any more lamaze sessions," Rogue grumbled as she tried to remember her breathing techniques.

Bishop focused on his driving. "You're two weeks early," he noted.

"Ah know that! Ya think ah don't know that?!" She grimaced. "Uh oh. Ah think ah got another contraction comin'!"

Agony ripped through Gambit's belly as Candra walked towards him, the Tithe Collector left at the door. Quickly, he forced his face into a grimace he hoped looked more like it was caused by anger than pain. Or fear.

"You weren' invited t' come here," he grated.

She smiled coldly. "Did you actually believe I wouldn't learn about your little meeting?"

"De Benefactress always welcome," Jacques said with a smile. "De Guild recognizes her supreme power an' her right t' visit us any time."

"I certainly hope so," she snapped. "So you'll recognize my authority to tell you that this meeting is over."

"Of course." The Council looked relieved.

Candra turned to Remy. "And you- get out of my chair."

Remy gripped the arms of the throne as her mind grabbed at him, trying to use telekinesis to lift him out. He resisted, and with a snarl she tried to lift the entire throne. He moved against her force, using Rogue's powers to keep himself on the ground. To anyone who watched, the battle wasn't evident. They only stared at one another.

"Dere's somet'ing de Benefactress don' want y' t' know," he called. "De real cost a her Elixir."

"Shut up!" Candra grated, sweating now. "Don't listen to him!"

It was getting harder to resist her. "Dere's a side effect t' de Elixir," he said softly. The pressure was growing stronger. "One no one knows 'cept Candra."

"I said to shut up!"

Remy met her glare for glare, too filled with rage to feel her try to crush him. Without Rogue's powers, she would have. "De price of her immortality is what it does t' y' chil'en. De years you get from drinkin' it be stolen from dem. Your ch'ilen, dere ch'ilen, on an' on. T'anks t' de Elixir, for de last t'ree hundred years, no one in de Clans who ain't taken it lives past sixty! No one! So I ask y' a third time.

"IS IT WORTH IT?!"

The throne shattered. Remy staggered, trying to regain his footing, and stood above them all before the alter.

"Is it?" he asked softly.

Slowly, husbands looked at wives, parents held children, truly realizing for the the first time that there was no old among them, and how much the the living were outnumbered by the dead.

Candra saw it in them too. "You..." Spinning, she blasted her TK at him as a spear of pure force. It blew him off his feet, straight into the alter. The statue which had been based on her cracked in two, the top half falling onto the remains of the throne.

"The Guild is mine," she grated. "I made it and I won't let you take it away from me."

"Let him go!" Lapin yelled. "We ain' gonna follow you!"

Candra looked at him contemptuously. "Yes, you are." She knocked him away.

Up until that moment, all of Candra's power had gone into holding Remy. A little of that went into dealing with Lapin though and Remy took advantage of the weakness in her grip. Straining, he broke her hold and flew down to face her.

"Y' finished here, Candra."

Her face was filled with hate. "Am I?" she whispered. "I swear to you, Remy, I'll kill you right here, and half your precious Clan. Whoever is still alive will grovel at my feet. And you can't stop me, no matter how strong you've gotten. Unlike you, my immortality is real."

She was right. Candra was an External, a special kind of mutant who never died and couldn't be killed because they would always come back to life. Beyond that, she was a telekinetic, and had the ability to awaken the latent mutant powers buried deep within a person. She could also remove powers, temporarily or permanently. She'd once done that to Rogue and he knew better than to let her touch him with her hands.

But she didn't know to be as wary around him. She didn't know he was a Gestalt and had access to every one of Rogue's powers.

The realization came and went in an instant, and without hesitation, Remy reached out to touch her face.

Candra screamed. So did Remy, as eight hundred years of an External's memories threatened to overwhelm him.

Rogue screamed as Bishop pushed her through the doors of the hospital emergency room. Leaping out of the wheelchair he'd grabbed for her, she flew down the hall, barrelrolling out of control as she clutched her head and continued to scream. All around her, anything that wasn't bolted to the floor leaped into a storm in the air. Patients and nurses shrieked and fled.

"Ah am immortal!" She kept screaming. "Ah am th' Benefactress!"

"Rogue!" Bishop yelled, running after her.

He could guess what had happened, since he'd seen this reaction before, when Rogue used her powers on a psyche stronger than her own. The alien mind was trying to take over. Obviously, Rogue hadn't touched anyone, so that meant Gambit had, using her powers, and he was being overwhelmed as well.

Desperately, Bishop ran to the nurse's station and leaped onto it. When Rogue flew by a moment later, he grabbed her. Shrieking, she twisted in his grip, crying out as another contraction hit her, and her skin touched his.

If felt like he was a waterfall, everything pouring out of him in a great rush. But his own powers fought back, reabsorbing the energy she drew out, and slowly the light of reason returned to her.

"B-Bish?" She gasped, and sagged against him in confusion.

"You'll be fine, Rogue." He looked up. "I need a doctor here! NOW!"

Belladonna was sipping her tea when the phone rang. "Hello?" she said, answering it. "Ah, Marie, what is it?" She listened for several minutes. "I see." She hung up.

Finishing her tea, she grimaced, putting both hands to her rounded belly. Picking up a small silver bell, she rang it. Gris-Gris came in. "Would you help me t' my bedchamber? It my time."

Nodding, he hurried to her side to help her stand.

Shaking his head, Gambit felt his sanity return. He was still standing in the Great Hall, Candra's memories and powers rushing through him. Candra was on her knees, barely conscious, his hand around her throat. No one moved, stunned. Even Remy was.

"Release her, LeBeau!"

Remy's head snapped up to see the Tithe Collector charging towards him. Remy had fought him a few times in the past and barely defeated him. This time, he used Candra's powers to pick him up and hurl him against the wall. It was so easy to do, he couldn't see how he'd never been able to do it before.

"You'll... pay... for this..." Candra whispered.

He looked down at the Benefactress and, somehow, into her. He could see her powers, how they worked, and the line she used to access them. Experimentally, he tugged on that line and her eyes widened. "No..."

The Cajun hesitated. She was helpless and he'd never attacked a helpless enemy before. But her strength was returning already and he could tell from the bits of her mind he still held that she'd kill him if she got the chance. He glanced up at the Clan. She'd kill them too.

"Ain' got no choice," he whispered and stripped away her powers.

Candra screamed, wrenching away from him and falling to the ground.

"What you done?!" Jacque gasped.

Remy didn't answer, fully realizing. Candra was an External, and Externals were mutants with the power of immortality. Without that power, there was nothing to keep her young.

Candra began to age, still screaming, and people started to cross themselves, Remy included. Her luxurious blonde tresses turned gray and fell out, her breasts sagged and her cheeks hollowed, her fingers becoming gnarled. Her clothes became too loose to fit her as she dessicated, mummifying, her skin cracking. Falling over, she fell to dust.

Oh, shit.

"You killed de Benefactress!" Julien shrieked. "You will die for dat!"

Slowly, Remy turned to face him. He had no fear of the man left at all.

"You knew," he said softly. He didn't project his voice, or use his Charm powers, but it was so quiet everyone heard him. "All of you, you knew." He shuddered in a contraction that felt like it was going to split his insides open. "Dieu! Even Poppa knew! You knew de Elixir shorten de lives of de chil'en of its users an' you kept takin' it!" Infuriated, he advanced on them. "You made us keep takin' it!"

The Council backed away.

"You betrayed us!"

"It - It was necessary," Jacque stammered. "We did it for de Guild."

Remy sneered at him. He couldn't imagine how he'd ever been afraid of them. "What is de first oath we take when we enter de Guild?"

They looked at each other hesitantly as he walked past them and back onto the pedestal, hopping up onto the shattered statue. "What is it?!"

Julien burned with rage while Jacque and most of the others looked embarrassed. Many were in shock. "Uh-"

Remy's eyes narrowed. "Every single one a us swore dat, before everyt'ing else, we would protect de Clan. Not de Guild. De Clan. You broke dat promise, an' for dat, I strip you of all authority. None of you on de Council no more. None of you in de Guild."

"You can't do dat!" Julien shrieked.

Remy gestured at the nearest group of men. "Escort dem outside. Dey banished now." It hurt to say it. He'd been banished before, and he hated to see it happen to anyone else, but after what they'd done, they deserved no less. And he couldn't afford to leave them in the Guild to try and take back control.

"Yes, Guild Master." The men surrounded the ex-Council.

Remy watched the ten men leave, the Clan parting to let them pass. None of them said a word, no more than he had when he took the same walk. There was nothing anyone could say.

Once they were gone, Remy looked over the frightened families. He was tired, wanting to rest badly. Rogue's contractions were forcing his abdomen to tighten in ways it wasn't supposed to and he was in horrible pain. He wanted to lie down, but he couldn't yet. Nor could he show his agony.

"Candra is dead," he told them. "And even if she weren't, dere would be no more Benefactress. We got to make our own rules an' our own decisions, 'bout what we gonna do wit' our lives an' our Guild. An' for dat, we need a new Council."

"You ain't gonna lead us?" The voice sounded surprised.

Remy looked at the speaker. It was Lapin. "Non. I ain't a leader 'less I have t' be. All of you deserve better dan dat. You deserve t' choose your own leaders, men an' women dat want t' lead."

"So what are you t' us, den?"

Remy considered that. He wanted his freedom, but he couldn't turn his back on them entirely.

"De Benefactress was ultimately an enemy, but she did some good, actin' when we needed a neutral party to observe an' judge. I be dat for you now. When you need me, I'll act as witness." A slight smile touched his lips. "I am de Witness."

"Mmph. Ow! Ah hate this! Ya hands are cold!"

Rogue sat propped up in a bed, glaring at the ceiling as the nurse examined her. Bishop stood at her side.

"Five centimetres dilation. A few more to go and you can start pushing." She straightened up. "I'll be checking on you periodically and I'll let the doctor know when you're ready." Smiling, she left.

Bishop frowned at the now closed door. "She's afraid of you," he noted disapprovingly.

"Ah'm not surprised," Rogue gasped, looking at the rail of her bed. She'd wasn't in any really extreme pain yet, but had clutched it so hard in her nervousness that the metal had snapped. She sighed. "Ah'm afraid, Bishop."

"Of what?"

"Ah guess it's really kinda late for me ta bring this up, but what if th' baby- what if the baby touches me? On th' way out, ah mean? Mah powers could do it permanent damage." She bit her lip, her eyes wet. "That's if ah don't just end up shootin' it across the room the first time ah push." She leaned back in the bed. "Oh, ah wish Remy was here."

Bishop walked over to his coat, hanging by the door. "I have already discussed this problem with Beast extensively and we have a solution." Reaching into the large inner pocket of the coat, he brought out a Genoshan slave collar.

"Go t' your homes," Remy ordered. "Rest, think. Den, when you're at your best, den decide who you want t' lead you. Pick wisely. For myself, I goin' home. Been a long day."

Quietly, the young mutant stepped down from the pedestal and walked across the Hall, his footsteps echoing in the silence. Slowly, the families parted for him as they would for Candra and he walked alone through the great doors. He'd barely reached the first corner of the corridor outside when he heard the roar of voices within, talking and arguing.

Remy shook his head. I did it. I actually did it. He'd stood up for something he knew was right and been believed. For the first time in his life, he'd succeeded in making things better instead of worse, and he couldn't stop smiling.

Who woulda thought it, neh?

"Remy," Lapin called from around the corner. "Wait up!"

Remy waited as Lapin ran up to him, grinning as widely as he was. "I can' believe it! Dey're talkin' 'bout electin' de new Council an' everybody dey t'inkin' of votin' for is less dan two hundred years old. Dey talkin' all sorts a changes an' screw de old traditions."

"Dat's great. I-"

Suddenly, he felt like something had torn inside him and Gambit went white, dropping to his knees in flaming agony.

"Remy!"

"I'm... okay," he gasped, bent over with his cheek against the cold damp stone.

Roguie? What y' doin' t' me, gal?

"I'm gettin' Tante!" Lapin ran off, leaving the new Witness of the Guild of Thieves shaking on the floor.

Silently, Bishop wiped Rogue's face with a cloth and adjusted the collar around her neck so that it fit more comfortably. The red light on it blinked steadily, signalling that the device was working.

"Is this th' collar Remy used when he had trouble with his powers?" she asked. He nodded and she chuckled.

"Ya know, much as ah appreciate this collar an' all, it was a whole lot easier ta do this when ah was invulnerable."

Bishop's timing had been poor and he'd put the collar on her just as a contraction hit. What had before been painful but bearable, had felt like someone was ripping out all her insides in comparison. She'd bit her tongue trying not to scream and felt her pain travel into Remy.

"Y-ya know, ah think Remy is, urm, enjoyin' this even less than ah am."

Bishop watched the door warily as footsteps sounded outside.

"Talk ta me, Bish. 'Cept foh th' nurse comin' ta tell me ah ain't ready yet, ah ain't got nobody ta talk ta."

He glanced at her a moment before his eyes moved to the window. "What do you want to talk about?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "Anythin'. Nothin'. Where are th' other X-Men?"

"No one expected you to give birth this week. They'll be here as soon as they can. I don't have an exact E.T.A."

Rogue put her hands on her swollen belly. "Do ya think mah baby'll be okay?"

"The doctor hasn't shown any concern. Two weeks isn't considered premature anymore. Don't worry."

Rogue knew he was trying to reassure her, but in her opinion, his technique left a lot to be desired.

"Ah think ya need ta work on ya bedside manner, sugah. Ah need more now than just a guard."

She clenched her teeth, counting as a contraction hit her. Before she reached ten, it ended and Bishop was at her side.

"I'm sorry, Rogue. I'm not used to showing weakness."

"Since when is havin' babies a sign o' weakness? Damn, ah'm thirsty."

"I'm not referring to children. I'm referring to opening oneself up to someone." He fed her some ice chips.

"Ta lettin' them into ya heart?" She sucked on the ice thirstily. "Ya let ya Daddy in, didn't ya?"

He shrugged. "He found me as a child, before I lost the last of my innocence. But eventually I shut even him out."

"Maybe ya should let him back in."

The big man looked at her quizzically. "That would be difficult, since he isn't here."

She shook her head. "Right. Ah've gotten so used ta feelin' him that it feels like he's right here at times."

"I see. What is he doing now?"

"Right now?" She grinned. "Mah guess is complainin'."

"Mon dieu!"

"What's wrong wit' him, Tante?"

"I'm fine," Remy gasped, clenching his teeth as a spasm passed through him. He was lying in a bed in a small room in the Labyrinth, propped up on a dozen small pillows.

Tante put a hand to his forehead and frowned. "Dis ain' fine, chile. You got somet'ing seriously wrong wit' you."

Gambit barked a laugh. "Non. I jus' in labour." Part of him relished the looks on their faces, even as he struggled to breathe evenly. "Or rather, Rogue is." He gasped. "I c'n feel her havin' our baby."

"Dis 'cause a dat Gestalt t'ing you tol' us 'bout?" Tante asked. He nodded and she looked disgusted. "Den you don' need me."

Both Remy and Lapin gaped at her in amazement as she stood, straightening her cuffs and picking up her coat.

"Y' leavin'?"

"I don' have time f' dis. When y' came t' drag me here, I was 'bout t' head out t' Belladonna. She in labour too, an' hers be real."

Remy blinked. "But she not due f' another month."

"Dat's why she more important dan you." She opened the door. "Keep an eye on him, Lapin."

"Me?! What I s'posed t' do?"

She walked out into the hall. "Keep him from pushin', or else he gonna give hisself an ulcer."

She hurried away and the two cousins looked at one another.

"I t'ink she mad at us."

Remy snorted. "What was y' first clue?" He lay back. "I tol' y' dat I was okay."

Lapin shrugged and sat on the side of the bed. "So I never seen a man wit' labour pains b'fore." He hesitated. "What it feel like?"

"Why? Plannin' on tryin' it y'self?"

"Saints, no! I was jus' wonderin' what it be like f' my wife when we have kids." He looked down. "If we have kids."

Remy wiped the sweat off his upper lip guiltily. "I'm sorry, homme."

He shrugged. "Not y' fault. Least y' found out what de Elixer really doin' an' had de guts t' tell us."

"Didn' have much of a-aiee!" Remy yelped, his back arching in pain and a abrupt, intense pressure. He felt as though he were suddenly sitting in liquid.

"What is it?" Lapin cried.

Remy threw his head back. "Oh, God! Rogue, her water's broken!"

"Uh oh."

"All right, Rogue, push!"

"Ah am!" Rogue snapped, glaring at the top of her doctor's head. It was all of him she could see above the blanket over her widespread knees. Now in heavy labour, she'd been transferred to the delivery room and put in the stirrups. The pain was incredible and she was beginning to regret Hank's decision that an epidural would be too much of a risk to her mutant physiology.

"It hurts!" she wailed. "Ah can' take this!"

"It shouldn't be too long. Keep with me here."

Rogue leaned back against Bishop, feeling very much like crying.

Remy breathed raggedly, trying to ride out the heavy contraction. It felt like his insides were being tied into a knot and he could only think in the increasingly short periods between contractions. He couldn't imagine what it was like for Rogue.

Lapin put a damp cloth on his forehead. "I guess y' can' jus', I dunno, turn off de part a you dat be pickin' her up, neh?"

"Not when de feelin' dis strong." He blew heavily, his face soaked with sweat, and grinned at him. "'Sides, I'm tempted t' feel more."

"Why?"

He shuddered, his muscles tightening. "'Cause it be my baby she havin'. I was dere t' make it. I gon' be dere t' have it too."

"Y' nuts, cousin."

He closed his eyes, focused on Rogue. "Maybe."

"All right, I can see the head."

Rogue barely heard him, aware of Remy's presence, of how his body matched her rhythms and his mind sought to link with hers. To be a single entity again, just as they had when they shared the same form.

She smiled. "'Bout time ya came back ta me, sugah."

Bishop, who'd been supporting her and holding her hand, looked at her face. "What?"

Rogue closed her eyes and they merged. Two to one. They trembled, remembering again how to move, and reopened their eyes. The pain was less now, spread out between their souls and far more bearable. Bishop was still looking at them stoically and they smiled.

"Evenin', Pup."

The big man's eyes widened. "Father?!"

"Not entirely, sugah."

His jaw dropped. "Good God."

"Remy! Wake up!"

Desperately, Lapin shook his cousin, trying to get some kind of response. Any kind. One moment they'd been talking, the next the younger man had just blacked out. Now he lay limply in the bed, his breathing shallow. Lapin put a hand to his throat. The pulse was slowing.

"Whatever y' doin', homme," he muttered. "You better hurry up, 'cause I don' t'ink your body c'n handle it."

They were one, a single being with no division of personality or soul. It felt right, any alternative inconceivable.

"Are you Gambit or Rogue?" Bishop hissed as he helped them lean forward into a contraction.

"Both." They bore down, groaning.

"All right, the head is out," the doctor called. "I know you want to push, but hold off until we can clean out the baby's mouth."

They waited, gasping against the pain as every instinct told them to push. Finally, the doctor called "You can push now!" and they did, feeling the infant move out of them, biting down on the pain as Bishop wiped their forehead. Then, the largest contraction of all came and they cried out in joy and pain both as they brought their son into the world.

There was warm air rushing into his chest, forcing his lungs to expand, and a pressure on his mouth. Remy snapped out of the Gestalt mergence with Rogue sporadically, half there, half lying on a bed in New York, waiting while the shrieking baby's umbilical cord was cut. Not quite aware of where he was now, he wanted to be back with Rogue and his soul reached for her.

The air rushed into him again and short, stiff beard hairs pricked his skin. Beard?

Remy gagged, coughing raggedly as he pushed his cousin away.

"Oh, t'ank de Saints!"

Remy glared at him. "What you doin'?"

Lapin leaned back. "You stopped breathin'. I was savin' y' life."

"You kidding me."

Lapin snorted. "You t'ink I be blowin' into y' ugly mug if I had a choice? You almos' died."

Remy sat up unsteadily. The pain was gone, the link to Rogue back to its normal low buzz. He shivered slightly. He'd had no idea that merging so closely to her would cut his ties to his own body.

Gonna have t' keep my eye open f' dat.

"T'ank you, Lapin."

"Y' welcome. What happened?"

He put a hand to his aching head. "I was wit' Rogue. In fact, I was Rogue." He grinned goofily. "She had our baby."

"Dat's nice. Boy or girl?"

"Uh- I dunno. You yanked me back 'fore I could find out."

Lapin looked at him quizzically. "You goin' back t' her, ain' you? Dat's why you tol' ev'rybody y' ain' gonna be leader."

Since he was feeling fine, Remy sat up, stretching sore muscles. "Dat's part of it. Part of it de fact dat de Assassins gonna t'row a fit when dey find out de Benefactress dead. Dey gonna be comin' after me, an' de farther away I am, de less chance dere be dat de Clan gonna get caught in de crossfire."

"Well, maybe we can keep it a secret from dem."

Remy laughed. "Dey already know, or dey will soon. I'd bet money dat dere's a spy in de Guild."

Lapin gaped at him. "How you know dat?"

He shrugged. "Ed'cated guess. Even if dere weren't, dere ain' no way t' keep dis quiet. Dey'll find out, believe me."

Lapin rubbed his arms, chilled. "I take it dis why y' ain't run out t' be wit' Belladonna while she havin' her baby."

He looked away. "Dat would be stupid. In fact, I don' t'ink I ever gon' see my child."

"Well, it's not like y' give a damn 'bout de mother."

"Dat don' mean I don' got no interest in my kid." He stood up. "But I know Belladonna. She love power, an' she gonna want t' kill me f' denyin' her de Benefactress'."

"Den you better get out a N'Awlins now."

Remy's boots were beside the door. He grabbed them and yanked them on. "Not 'til de new Council been elected. I wanna make sure de people picked be de right ones, or de families' in big trouble."

Lapin gaped at him as he opened the door. "But de Assassins-"

"De Assassins got a new heir. One dat proves Belle's fertility an' her absolute right t' rule. Dey're gonna have t' give her de final ceremonies t' mark her as leader an' welcome de new heir. Dey even more hide bound by tradition dan we are. I figure dat give me 'bout a week t' do t'ings I need f' de Clan an' Guild, an' I ain' gonna need dat much time."

Lapin shook his head in amazement. "You've changed, cousin. De Remy I watched grow up never coulda done any a dis."

Remy smiled, a little sadly. "I had no choice, cousin. I guess it time f' me t' grow up."

"I t'ink I'm glad y' did."

"Only t'ink? Y' ain' sure?"

Lapin grimaced. "Ask me 'gain a couple hours after de Assassins have de time t' pay attention t' us."

"De Assassins ain' gonna hurt nobody, Lapin. If I have to, I gonna take dem down too."

Lapin hesitated, watching Remy's back as he walked down the passageway, combing out the tangles in his long hair with his fingers.

Somehow, he knew he meant it.

Belladonna lay in bed and crocheted quietly, working on a baby blanket with the emblem of the Assassins, a red circle, in the middle of it. It was the same circle as that imbedded in her back, the sign of the Benefactress' gifts.

There was a knock on the door and Fifolet came in. Belle's lips pursed at his rudeness.

"Tante Mattie here," he told her. "She heard 'bout you bein' in labour."

She kept on crocheting, deciding to ignore his behaviour. He was useful, and considering how he'd been her lover for the past year, she supposed he had some right to come into her bedroom.

"Send her away," she said. "I don' need her."

"I already tol' her dat. She worried 'cause de baby so premature."

"Is dat my fault?" She snapped. "How much longer I stuck in here anyway?"

"Couple more hours at most."

"Good. Dis is incredibly boring. How de preparations for de ceremonies goin'?"

Fifolet leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed. "Good. De paternity test already set up."

Belle snorted at that one. At least her own father had needed to go through the humiliation of proving he was her sire, and by tradition, she didn't need to prove her own fertility. Everyone knew already the child was hers.

There was a commotion outside and Gris-Gris burst in. Belle opened her mouth to yell at him for his insolence, but the look of horror on his face stopped her.

"What is it?" She asked warily.

"De Benefactress is dead!"

"What?!"

His eyes were wild. "Remy LeBeau killed her. Dey say all he did was touch her an' she fell t' dust! Den he crippled de Tithe Collector. He's deposed de Council and taken over de Guild himself."

Belle ground her teeth together, rage filling her as the energy the Benefactress had given her crackled around the room. The two men backed away fearfully.

There was a sharp snap and Belle looked down to see she'd broken her croquette needle in two. Delicately, she put the two pieces back together and placed them on the bedside table.

"Fifolet, I wan' you t' join Maria and Jacqueline. I wan' dere mission finished now an' dem back here." He nodded respectfully and vanished in a flash of green light. She turned to Gris-Gris. "You go make sure de ceremonies' ready t' go. I don' wan' t' take de risk of anyt'ing goin' wrong wit' dem.

"But when I am leader f' sure, I am goin' t' make sure Gambit pay." Gris-Gris nodded and left as she lay back and planned the death of her husband, now that he'd outlived his usefulness.

"Hey, Rogue, how are you feeling?" Jean looked around the edge of the hospital door, smiling broadly.

Rogue looked over sleepily. "Hah, Jeannie. C'mon in."

Quietly, Jean came in, followed by Storm. "We snuck in," she explained as she shut the door.

Ororo walked over to embrace the young woman warmly. "Where is your little one, Rogue?"

Rogue smiled. "He was fussin' an' ah couldn't sleep, so th' nurse took him ta th' nursery. Bishop is watchin' him."

"Oh, a little boy! He must be adorable."

She sighed happily. "He's beautiful. He's got bright blue eyes an' reddish hair jus' like his daddy. Ah was wearin' th' collar an' ah even got ta breast-feed him." Suddenly, she began to cry.

"Rogue!" Both women put their arms around her.

"What is it, child?" Ororo asked softly.

"Ah - ah'm just so happy! Ah have a son!" She looked up at them, her eyes shining. "Ah thought ah'd nevah have a baby, an' Remy gave me a son."

She was crying and laughing both, and soon the other two women joined in as well.

Silently, Bishop looked through the window at his new brother. The tiny baby was lying in his crib, his mouth working as he dreamed of suckling at his mother's breast.

He was actually one of the first babies Bishop had ever seen, and he found himself comparing him to the other infants. He was smaller than them, a little bit more delicate, but otherwise just the same.

Yet he was totally different. This was his father's son. His real son. I will protect you and teach you, he told the sleeping infant. For as long as your father cannot.

There was a tiny prick in the big man's neck, no more than a mosquito bite, and easily ignored. But at the feel of it, Bishop spun, reaching for the pistol he carried inside his coat. This was the wrong time of year and the wrong place for mosquitoes.

Before he could complete the turn, quick as he was, something hard and blunt struck him in the forehead, right between the eyes. He reeled back, and a thick cloth was pulled tight over his face from behind, pulling his head farther back.

His reactions were slowing, the drug he'd been injected with burning from his neck throughout his body. There was no sound, just his heavy breathing as he tried to free himself, only to feel two more darts thud into his body, these even more powerful than the first.

Less than three seconds after the attack, Bishop hit the floor, blinded, paralyzed, unable to rise and fight. He only had one weapon left.

Jean! He yelled mentally, as loud as he could. Then the drugs took full effect and he blacked out.

Jean's head snapped up, her face going white. "Oh, God!"

"What is wrong?" Ororo asked.

Jean bolted for the door. "Bishop's under attack!"

"MAH BABY!"

Half asleep only an instant before, Rogue came fully awake, yanked the collar off and crashed through the wall. Jean ducked, a telekinetic shield protecting her, and Rogue flew down the corridor towards the nursery.

Ororo grabbed Jean's arm, yanking her to her feet. "Come one," she ordered and ran after Rogue, dodging around doctors and patients who were still stunned by the sight of the flying woman who'd passed them. Not now, she thought desperately. Please, Goddess, let this be the happy day it is supposed to be. Unfortunately, her Goddess wasn't listening. "NOOO!!!!!"

Rogue's screams drove them on and they skidded around the corner to see her standing over Bishop's body, crying against the nursery window. Inside, every cradle held a wailing infant, except for the empty one before her marked Rogue.

"Y' son, mistress."

"It's about fuckin' time!"

Belle looked down at the shrieking infant she'd been handed. "Well, you look jus' like y' daddy, don' you? Could be worse." She handed him back to Fifolet. "Take him t' de paternity test," she ordered and got up to take a well deserved shower.

Quietly, Tante Mattie hurried down the road, through an wrought iron gate and up a walkway to the door of a large house. She was just reaching for the doorbell when a voice sounded behind her.

"Y' gonna wake him up."

Tante jumped in surprise and whirled around, one hand to her beating heart. "Mon dieu! Don' scare me like dat!"

The Guild member who'd been guarding the grounds didn't react to her scold. "De Witness be sleepin'. Come back t'morrow."

Tante's eyes narrowed. This man was one of those who used to guard members of the Council from Assassin attacks.

I guess dis mean Remy really be our leader. The thought of that didn't really surprise her that much. Even since she'd first seen Remy, she'd been aware of a strength in him, a dedication to that which he believed in. It'd been buried though, beneath layers of false bravado and self-doubt. It was good to see him finally breaking through all of that and becoming the man he was meant to be.

Still, knowing this may not help her get by the guard, even though she'd been midwife to him.

"I need t' see him t'night," she explained. "It an emergency."

"Sorry. I can' let nobody in."

This couldn't wait. "It about his baby."

The guard hesitated. Children were sacred at all times, but the child of the Guild leader was part of the nobility as well.

"All right," he relented. "You stay here. I go wake him."

Relieved, Tante watched the guard go inside and planned what she was going to do next.

Remy looked up at Tante blearily, his eyes heavy with sand. He'd been very deeply asleep, but he didn't feel like he'd gotten any real rest, being wracked by nightmares he couldn't remember. "Tante, d' you know what time it is? I had a real long day t'day."

The young mutant sat up against the headboard of his bed as Tante hurried over, the guard closing the door behind her. He was exhausted. The stress of taking over the Guild, Candra's death and the mirroring of Rogue's labour pains had finally caught up with him and he'd been sleeping so deeply the guard could barely rouse him. He hadn't even know he had guards. Much as he loved Tante, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep.

"Remy, I got t' talk t' you."

Remy stretched out in the warm bed. "Uh huh." He started to drift, not hearing her next words until -

"Remy Etienne LeBeau! You will sit up an' listen t' me or I will turn y' over my knee an' paddle y'!"

Instinctively, Remy jerked upright. "Yes, ma'am!"

Tante waited until he was sitting up on the edge of the bed before she spoke again. "Belladonna had y' baby," she told him.

"Dat's great," he yawned. "What is it? Boy or girl?"

"I don' know."

He stared at her. "You don' know? Weren' you dere?"

She clasped her hands together worridly. "Non. De Assassins wouldn' let me go t' her." Her expression became desperate. "De baby a month premature. I have t' see it. An' I need y' help t' do it."

Remy sighed. So much for sleep. "Okay. Jus' let me get some coffee in me first, neh?"

For years, Remy had been breaking into the Assassins' main estate. Their security wasn't quite as good as the Thieves' and Belladonna had told him all its weaknesses. Since she became leader, those weaknesses had changed, but Remy had gotten much better at breaking and entering. Besides, most of the Assassins were partying in the back of the estate, celebrating the baby's birth and Belle's final ascension to the throne.

Remy went in through the front, the music drowning out any sound he might have made. Crouching in the shadows, he surveyed the house. It was well lit, drunken Assassins wandering in and out, but one light on the second floor was out. Undoubtedly where the baby was being kept. 'The baby'. He smirked. He still didn't feel any real connection to it as being his.

May as well get on wit' it.

He moved. Keeping low, he skirted the bushes and darted across the lawn to the house. After a quick glance in the window at the partiers within, he climbed up a trellis to Belle's balcony. From there, he saw a couple of bored guards round the corner into the front yard.

Too late, hommes, he thought with a smirk and turned to the alarm on the door. Five minutes later, he was inside.

Quietly, he made his way across the darkened room, following his senses to the sitting room next to the study. There, he pulled a bottle of water out of his pack.

He poured the water onto the floor and watched it coalesce into Tante Mattie. She was the only person other than Belladonna to receive both the Elixir of Life and of Power, and it gave her some leeway into both Guilds. He didn't know her story, though. He wasn't sure anyone did.

"T'ank you, Remy. Close de doors so nobody see a light."

She went to the crib in the centre of the room as Remy laid a rolled up towel along the bottom of the door to block the light, and closed the access to the bedroom with its windows. Then he turned on the lights.

A scream of protest sounded from the crib and Tante bent over it, cooing. Remy ignored them, picking the lock on the study and wandering in to take a look.

As he looked at the desk, table, safe and file cabinets, he decided that this was undoubtedly the messiest room in the house.

Belle always did hate paperwork, an' inconvenience. He smiled. She ain' gonna notice anyt'ing missing.

He'd learned to take advantage of his opportunities. Now he proceeded to do so.

"C'est incroyable!"

Remy looked out the door, wary of an attack. He didn't see one. "What wrong?"

Tante looked up at him. "Dis baby is perfectly healthy."

He shut the study door, relocking it. "Isn' dat a good t'ing?"

"Y' don' un'erstand. Dis baby don' look like it a month premature. Half dat, maybe, but not a month."

Remy shrugged. "Well, don' f'get, I ain' 'xactly a normal father. Y' lucky dat baby don' have six arms an' pink fur."

Tante chuckled. "True. Y' wan' t' meet y' son?"

Remy looked at her. "Son?"

Tante held the little bundle out to him. "Yes. Come, take him."

Hesitantly, Remy walked over and took the blanket-wrapped baby boy. The unfamiliar weight felt odd until he looked into the tiny face.

The little baby looked up at him out of unfocused blue eyes, tiny fists waving at the air as he scrunched up his face. Remy reached out to him and he grabbed one finger, his hand not large enough to wrap all the way around it.

"Hi," Remy whispered, a huge grin splitting his face. The baby gurgled at him. "Are you my son?"

Tante stood back, smiling as Remy crouched down, cradling the baby to him, rocking him, crooning to him, inhaling his fresh baby scent.

"Y' de most perfect baby in de world," he whispered to him, his voice cracking.

"I take it y' approve a him?"

Remy smiled up at her. "You better believe it." He looked back at his son. "I wish I could take y' home wit' me, but I don' t'ink you'd wan' t' be stolen. An' I don' t'ink y' momma gonna be wantin' me t' come visit." He hugged him, his voice cracking more. "Now, she gonna be tellin' you all sorts a bad t'ings 'bout me when y' get older, but don' you believe dem. Y' daddy love you very much." The baby yawned and he looked up at Tante desperately. "I'm abandonin' him, ain' I?"

Tante sighed, smoothing her skirts. "Y' don' have any choice, chile. Belle gonna wan' y' dead for de Benefactress, an' she never let y' get away wit' stealin' de boy. Be a father t' de baby y' can."

Rogue's baby. Remy looked down at the now sleeping infant. "I only know you f' a couple minutes, an' already I know I ain' never gonna forget you." Slowly, he stood up and carried him over to the crib, laying him down on the mattress.

"Remy?"

"Get back in y' bottle, Tante," he told her softly. "It time t' go home."

"How could ya let them take mah baby, ya BASTARD!"

Screaming, Rogue hurled herself at Bishop, punching his chest. He made no move to stop her and only the fact that she was wearing the collar while Hank examined her saved him from being killed.

"Rogue, stop it!" Beast yelled, grabbing her and pulling her away from the big man. "This won't help."

"Yes, it will! Ah'm gonna punch that fucker's teeth right down his throat!"

"Rogue!"

The command inherent in that voice stopped her struggles and all three of them turned to the door to see Storm. She looked them over calmly, then turned to Bishop.

"Come with me," she ordered. He hesitated, then obeyed. She smiled sympathetically at Rogue. "Do not worry, we will find him."

Rogue remained stiff until they left, then sagged in Hank's arms. He almost had to hold her up.

"Sit down, Rogue."

"Ah don't want ta sit down!" She cried, pulling free. "Ah have ta find mah baby!"

Hank grabbed her again. "Rogue, you had your son less than twenty four hours ago and you're still bleeding, as well as being in a lot of pain. Your obstetrician has released you into my care, but you have to take it easy."

"But-"

He put a hand on her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. "The X-Men will find your son, Rogue, no matter what it takes."

She started to cry. "Are ya sure?"

"With people like Cyclops and Wolverine on the job? Indubitably."

Storm and Bishop walked out of the infirmary and down the hall silently. It wasn't until they were in the elevator that Ororo spoke.

"Why did you go to see Rogue? You know she is still very distraught."

Bishop was standing almost at attention. "I failed her. I swore to protect her and her baby and I failed. I wanted to apologize for my mistake. I take full responsibility, it never should have happened."

Storm frowned. "Bishop, you were attacked without warning in a place where you could not risk using your powers to fight back and injected with tranquilizers designed to bring down a man of your height and weight. The kidnappers expected you to be guarding the infant and acted specifically to neutralize you."

The elevator doors opened and she walked out. Bishop followed her, not sure if she meant he shouldn't blame himself. For his own part, he felt he should have been more prepared.

They entered the War Room, already occupied by Cyclops, Phoenix, Wolverine and Professor X.

"What is the latest news?" Storm asked.

Cyclops glanced up. "No word from the kidnapper or kidnappers yet."

Wolverine was growling softly, his claws flicking in and out repeatedly. "I went over every square inch of that nursery. There was no unfamiliar scent. I ain't never seen an odour masked that well. Whoever did this is good and they're gonna pay." He scraped his claws together gratingly.

"They also used psychic dampeners," Jean put in. "I was keeping aware of the baby, but until Bishop 'yelled', I had no idea he was in any danger."

"No one saw anyone enter or leave," Cyclops said. "In spite of the fact that Bishop had sentry alarms on all the doors and windows leading into the nursery, on top of the hospital's regular security. None of them were tampered with, so the only answer I can think of is a teleporter."

"Sinister," Bishop hissed.

"Who else has an interest in mutant children and who else knows so much about us?"

Wolverine's claws were fully extended now. "So, when are we takin' him down, bub?"

Scott sighed. "We don't know where he is."

"We know where one of his labs is. The one that Threnody skirt blew up. Let's start there."

As Scott considered the idea, Bishop turned and walked to the door.

"Bishop?"

"I am going after Sinister."

"Get back here, mister," Cyclops barked. "No one moves until we have a plan."

"Yer plans take too damn long," Logan growled.

For a moment, it looked as though Bishop was going to disobey and keep going. Then he turned and silently came back.

"Continue with the planning," Storm said, headed for the door herself. "There is something I must do."

Scott stared at her in exasperation. "What?"

She glanced back at him over her shoulder. "Rogue is not the only parent who deserves to know of the abduction of their child."

Six hours later, Ororo strode down the music filled streets of New Orleans, enjoying the smells and sounds as she made her way through the crowds.

It'd been a long time since she'd been in the Big Easy, not since she'd been in the body of a small child under Remy's unofficial care. He'd done well as an impromptu parent, though he often didn't know what to make of his unusual charge. It'd been fun though, Remy teaching her more about the joie de vie than she'd ever thought possible. He'd been one of her closest friends ever since.

Now I must figure out where he is.

When they'd both been there, they'd lived in a large house in the Garden District. Storm had gone there first, and while it was being lived in by Remy- or at least by someone who shared his taste in trenchcoats, he wasn't home. She'd left him a note telling him she was looking for him, but elected to search for him in the French Quarter instead of waiting. She just needed to keep moving, or her rage would take control of her and she'd rain down lightning until Sinister was dead.

How can even he be so cruel as to steal a defenseless child from his mother? It was a question she knew she would never be able to answer to her satisfaction.

Moving off the sidewalk, she went down a few steps and into a tiny restaurant, one with no more than four tables. Remy had taken her there the day after they met and many times afterwards. Remy knew the restaurant owner quite well and Ororo had once heard him call her aunt. That could mean just about any level of relationship, considering what little she knew of the size and structure of his clan, but she might be able to connect her to someone in the Guild.

As she sat down, the restaurant owner came out of the back, wiping her hands on her apron. She was a broad faced, smiling black woman, one completely filled with the joy of life. Ororo had never had any trouble believing that she was related to Remy.

Not recognizing her, the woman bustled over. "What can I get for y', chile?"

Ororo smiled. "A bowl of your bread pudding and some information."

"Ah, jus' th' t'ing for a li'l petite like you t' fill out." Quickly, she hurried into the kitchen and came back with a big bowl. Setting it down, sat sat across from her, rubbing her ankles. "Mm. It good t' sit down."

Ororo tasted the pudding to find it was as good as she remembered. The woman waited until she finished it and pushed the bowl away before she spoke.

"I take it y' like it, den?"

"Oh, yes. It has been too long since I had some."

She looked at her curiously. "Oh? Y' been here b'fore? I don' 'member you."

Ororo leaned back in her chair. "I was a little girl when I was here last."

"I see. What bring y' back? Sure not jus' my bread puddin'."

This was it. "I have come seeking the Guild Master of de Guilde de Voleurs," she said carefully. She very much wanted to ask for Remy, but that would be rude. Etiquette required her to present herself to the Guild Master and ask his permission to speak with Gambit.

The poor woman gaped at her for a moment, then stood, looking nervous. "I don' know not'ing 'bout no Guild."

Ororo stood as well. "Please, I mean no harm and I am not a police officer. I am Ororo Munroe and I was a student of Achmed Al Gibar. I only wish to speak with the Guild Master, as is my right." She turned a little regretfully to the door after leaving money on the table for the pudding. "I will be in the French Quarter, should they wish to find me. Thank you for the pudding."

Not waiting for an answer she knew wouldn't come, she left.

By nightfall, Ororo was still walking in the French Quarter. Her feet aching, she turned into an alleyway, intent on creating fog to cover her flight back to Remy's house.

As she called on the wind, she sensed movement in the air and relaxed, readying herself to move in any direction necessary.

A man stepped out of the shadows before her, two others behind to block off the alley entrance.

"What's a pretty lady like you doin' out all alone?" His fingers flickered subtly at her.

"Looking for a friend," she replied, her own fingers moving. He nodded.

"Welcome t' N'Awlins, Ms Munroe. I be Richard Destie, of de T'ieves Guild. I un'erstand y' wan' t' meet wit' our leader."

The other two men walked up by her side. "Yes, I do."

"Den I'll take y' t' see de Witness."

Witness? She wondered as he led her back out of the alley to a blue van. That wasn't a term she'd heard Remy use before, though it did sound familiar.

Richard got into the back of the van first and Storm followed to see him holding a blindfold.

"Y' got t' wear dis," he told her. "Nobody not in de Guild allowed t' know where it be."

Ororo nodded. She understood the necessity. "Very well."

He tied the thick cloth over her eyes and she settled back as the van began to move. It made a lot of twists and turns, probably to mess with her sense of direction, but by counting the turns and comparing them to a mental map, she had a fair idea where she was.

Finally, the van pulled into a garage, the door rattling closed behind them, and stopped.

"Is this it?" She asked.

"Not e'en close."

He took her arm and led her out of the van and into what she realized was an elevator as it began to go down. She felt the first stirrings of claustraphobia and forced it away. She didn't have time to panic.

I will do Remy no good by becoming a blubbering idiot. Her claustrophobia had always been something she was deeply ashamed of.

The elevator ground downwards several floors, then stopped and she was led across a basement to the far wall. She heard a rumbling and her shoulder brushed a door jamb as she was led through it. It rumbled again, closing behind her.

"Watch y' step," Richard warned her. "Dere are stairs."

Storm only nodded. Her heartrate was up and she could feel herself sweating. The silence of her companions only let her concentrate on her surroundings more, and the fact that they were closing in.

You can do this, she told herself. You are not a little girl anymore. You are a woman with your own heart and soul and YOU WILL NOT SURRENDER TO FEAR!

The words were thought with force, but the conviction behind them was weaker. She very much wanted to tear the blindfold away and use her lightning bolts to blast her way back into the sky.

Around her, she began to hear whispers in french as they passed people. Then they stopped.

"Dis is de Great Hall," Richard told her. "De Witness be inside."

He removed the blindfold and Storm found herself standing in a stone passageway before great, ornately carved double doors. Richard said something to the guards and the doors opened.

Oror walked into a vast room filled with columns and fireplaces and she relaxed a bit in the open space.

There were people standing, talking at the far end of the hall, below a pedestal which held a man sitting in a chair. They all stared at her as she walked up with her guides.

Richard called out formally. " Ororo Munroe, etudiante d'Achmed Al Gibar, est venue parler avec le Temoin de la Guilde des voleurs."

Ororo focused her attention on the man in the chair. He was a young man, far younger than she'd expected, with a strength and maturity she'd last seen in Scott. Then she got a little closer and realized how familiar he looked.

"Allo, Stormy."

Ororo's jaw dropped open. It was Gambit. "You are the Witness?" she gasped.

He chuckled. "'Fraid so. I am de supreme leader of the Guild an' de Clan, at least until dese guys stop arguin' an' elect a Council." He stood up and came down to her. "What brings y' by, Stormy?"

"Do not call me Stormy," she told him automatically as he hugged her.

He chuckled. "It's good t' see you, Ororo."

Smiling, she returned the embrace. "It is good to see you as well. You have been gone too long."

"May I be excused, Witness?" Came a respectful voice and they both turned to look at Robert.

Remy stepped away and clapped him on the shoulder. "Y' done good, Robert. Y' take de ot'ers out f' some gumbo an' zydeco on me, neh?"

To Ororo's surprise, Robert looked extremely pleased with the praise. "T'ank you, Witness."

Ororo watched him leave. "Remy, why are you in charge of all these people? And why do they call you the Witness?"

He held her hand as he led her towards one of the glowing fireplaces. "I inherited de rulership when my father died."

"Oh, Remy, I am so sorry. I did not know."

He shrugged. "Dat's okay. I'm gettin' over it." He sighed. "An I jus' kinda picked up de name Witness."

She looked at him. She remembered now where she'd heard that name before. "That is what Bishop called you in his future."

"Yah, well, I had t' get de name from somewhere."

She studied him. There were faint lines around his eyes that she hadn't seen before, a set to his shoulders that spoke of authority. This wasn't the young man who'd followed her home to the X-Men. He'd become something more and she found she approved of the change.

"I have news," she told him.

He took a poker and turned over a half burned log in the fire. "I kinda figured y' did. Good or bad?"

"Both. Rogue has had the baby."

He smiled at her, his eyes softening. "I know."

Of course, she thought. He felt the birth through their link.

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

Storm sighed. This was going to be very difficult to tell him. "He is a little boy, but there is a problem. He has been kidnapped."

Remy stared at her, confused.

"He was taken from the nursery at the hospital," she explained. "We believe that Sinister has him and we- Remy?"

He wasn't even looking at her, staring at the fire even though she knew how much the light would hurt his eyes. He didn't seem to notice, or else he didn't care.

"Of course," he murmured. "It all makes sense now. De clues, de timin', it all comes t'gether, an' I HELD him in my arms. Beast was right."

"Remy?"

He turned to her and she took an involuntary step backwards at the intensity in his eyes. He stared at her for a moment, then looked beyond her.

"Escort Ms Munroe back t' de surface," he called. "Treat her wit' de same respect y'd give me."

"Oui, Witness."

Then he was striding away from her, towards the double doors.

"Remy?" She started after him, but a Guildmember cut her off. "Remy, tell me where you are going!" The Guildmember hissed at her tone.

Remy spun in midstride. "You don' order me here, Stormy," he said kindly. "Now go home. Dis be Guild business." He vanished out the door.

The Guildmember touched her arm. "Come wit' me, Mademoiselle."

Ororo shook her head and made her slow way back to the surface.

Drenched in drink and adrenaline, the assassins danced, bodies twisting and turning as they spun wildly to the heavy beat and insane melodies, the light of the bonfires they danced around turning the red of their uniforms to that of blood.

Like a hun'red li'l demons dancing in a row.

Three hundred feet above their heads, Gambit floated in midair, glaring down at them with eyes that burned redder than the hottest coal in the any flame.

You've b'trayed me f' de last time, Belle.

He wouldn't kill her. Wouldn't even fight her. He would only take his son home to Rogue. Leave her with no heir for her kingdom, and, once he was done, no throne. He was angry, filled with a terrible rage, but it was slow baked, churning quietly, not blazing. His revenge could take time.

Gently, he drifted down to her balcony on the front side of the house and rewired the alarm system. Calmly, as though he did it every night, he crossed into the sitting room and over to the crib. It was empty.

Merde! Why can' anyt'ing be easy?

He would wait, then take the child. Thieves learned patience at a very early age, and he was a master.

Silently, he went out her door into the hall and down to the back. There was a window there and he peeked out to see the assassins and their families, still celebrating Belle's ascension. He could see her as well, standing proudly in the midst of them, holding a baby in her arms. His eyes narrowed. The baby was crying, upset by the fire and the noise. Belle just laughed, holding him up over her head, and the crowds cheered.

Y' gonna pay f' dis, Belle. He'd gotten over what she did to him. It was nothing he hadn't gone through before, but he would never forgive what she robbed from Rogue. You steal from me, I steal from you. Only you ain' takin' it back.

In the house, he sensed movement, and quickly stepped sideways into the bathroom. The movement came in his direction and he got into the shower, closing the curtain enough to hide him, with just a tiny space left for him to see out of.

Her nose red with drink and her skin sleek with sweat, Maria came into the bathroom. He knew her. Belle's pet telekinetic and one of her closest friends since childhood. She was nowhere near as powerful as Jean, but she could certainly truss up a full grown man. She'd proved it when Belle asked her to pin him against a wall when he was sixteen, because he'd dared to say no to her advances. He'd never forgiven her for that.

Maria washed her face, smiling to herself, then glanced up and gasped as she saw his glowing eyes reflected in the mirror.

Remy lunged through the curtain, hurling himself at her. He ignored his own powers, didn't even try to hit her. He just grabbed her around the neck and, before she could hurl him away, drained her.

The telekinesis she was going to use poured into him as she crumpled into a heap. Unlike with Candra, he maintained his own personality, but this was worse as her memories filled him as well.

"POPPA!"

Jean-Luc...

Belle...

He saw Belle order Maria to kill Jean-Luc. Saw himself kill. Drive into the brain. Shut off the blood. Watch him twitch, hah, watch him quiver! NOO! Poppa!! Old fool. Daddy, no... Die! He was dying, he was dying

He was dead.

Remy slammed his fists into the mirror, not even noticing it as the shards cut into his hands. Oh, God, Poppa, no! Faced with the murder of his father, the JOY of the killing, along with a hundred other deaths in Maria's memory, he fled into himself, just as he had when Gris-Gris attacked him.

Racing in blind panic, he slammed full force into something and felt everything... switch.

Remy sat up, gasping in horror, eyes wide as he trembled. Immediately, Hank leaned over him. "Are you all right?"

Hank? He took several deep breaths, trying to regain his calm, trying to wrap his mind around the wrongness of what was happening. "Beast?"

The doctor's face furrowed in concern. "Rogue? Are you all right?" He asked again.

Oh, Saints... Shoving the burly doctor out of the way, the Cajun lunged out of the bed he lay in, stunned at how weak he felt and how there were spots of blood on his bare legs, and threw himself towards a bare mirror that hung on the wall.

The eyes were the same, still red on black. But everything else about the body he wore belonged to Rogue.

Confused, Rogue stared down at the unconscious woman lying at her feet.

"What in heaven-" she murmured and started at the deepness of her own voice. Turning, she looked at her reflection in a shattered mirror.

Remy.

"Oh, sugah," she breathed. "What have ya got me inta now?"

The last thing she remembered, she'd been sleeping. Much as she wanted to search for her baby, she'd been worn out, and she was still discharging blood from the delivery as well. Every time she tried to get out of bed, Hank would be there to push her back down, and assure her that the X-Men would find her child.

Her hands were stinging, and she looked down to see them covered in shards of glass and blood. Carefully, she washed them in the sink and went out the door to look around. She wasn't entirely sure what happened, but her guess was she was in New Orleans. She just wanted to know where.

Stepping out into a hall, she walked over to a window at the end. She could hear loud music outside and see the glow of bonfires. Curious, she looked out.

Straight into the screaming face of her son.

With an earth-shattering explosion that blew the entire back of the mansion's second floor outwards, Rogue, in Gambit's body, threw herself at Belladonna. "GIVE ME BACK MAH SON!!"

Recognizing the body if not the mind, Belle's eyes widened, then narrowed in rage. "KILL HIM!" She yelled, holding the screaming baby close to her.

The assassins attacked.

"Rogue? What is transpiring?" Beast hurried down the hall after his patient. "Where are you going?"

Remy just kept running down the hall, barefoot and dressed only in one of those green hospital gowns that tied in the back. He could feel Rogue in his body, feel her fighting, destroying everything within reach, but there were so many assassins and she'd been forced onto the ground. She'd need an entire team of X-Men to fight them all and he could think of only one way to get one to her in time.

Ahead of him, he saw Jean walk out of the kitchen and look at him curiously. "Sorry, Jean," he yelled. She started to reply, but he ran up and threw his arms around her, kissing her hard on the lips. Immediately, she went limp as her powers travelled into him, and through him to Rogue.

Rogue was blinded by her rage, and Remy's blood. Wielding a picnic table, she swung it around her, not caring who she crushed as she slammed it through the masses of assassins too slow or too stupid to get out of her way. It glowed bright pink as she did so, pumped full of Gambit's kinetic powers. Then she turned and hurled it full force at the mansion. It went through the hole she'd created earlier and exploded, sending a fireball fifty feet or more through the roof and into the sky.

Standing beyond the assassins, she could see Belle, her face turning white. "Kill him!" She screamed a second time. The baby wailed in her arms.

Rogue hurled herself at her again, right into the masses of the assassins. One kicked her in the stomach, barely phasing her as another broke his sword on her neck. Fifolet was there, his energy burning her even through her invulnerability, but she ignored the pain, striking out at him. Her fist passed through him harmlessly and he laughed as his energy lashed out at her again. More energy beams hit her from all sides, but she struggled on.

Then she found herself being forced back by their numbers as a hail of bullets rebounded off her chin, into an assassin who screamed and fell. Her muscles felt like they were turning to rubber as a gray aura fell over her and sudden fire burned her clothes. The assassins were staying out of reach, hitting her with their powers instead of going in for close contact. They'd been taught to work as a team and they'd learned their lessons well. Desperately, she grabbed some of Remy's cards, charged and threw them. The aura that was weakening her cut off as a trio of assassins were blown off their feel. Then someone with strength matching hers slammed both fists into her back and she crumpled to her knees.

Even over the fire and the screams and the approaching sirens, she could hear Belladonna's laugh.

Suddenly, Jean's telekinesis and telepathy flowed into her and she threw the advancing assassins back, giving her a second's respite. Surprised by this new power, they hesitated for a moment and she dragged herself to her feet. With a slight smile, the Mississippi Marauder threw herself at them again.

Remy dropped Jean just as Hank grabbed him from behind, careful not to touch his skin.

"What are you doing?!" He almost screamed.

"Let me go, Henry!"

Beast gasped at the accent. "Remy?"

He broke free as the other X-Men ran up, alerted by the yelling, Bishop in front. "Oui. Now, stay out of de way." Reaching up, he touched the time-lost man's face.

First Jean, now Bishop. Oh, sugah. What a wonderful man ya are. Rogue smiled through broken teeth, one eye swollen almost shut and an arm hanging broken at her side. She knew what was happening, what her lover was doing. Providing her the tools she needed to save their son. All she had to do was use them.

Lifting her one good arm, she let the energy that would normally only charge objects come. But mixed with Bishop's powers, she released it in a beam that blasted outwards, straight into Fifolet as he was about to kill her. The assassin screamed once and dispersed, no longer able to maintain his form. Forgetting him already, Rogue spat out a tooth and turned to deal with the rest.

"What is going on here?!" Scott yelled as Bishop reeled against the wall. "What happened to Jean?"

Remy looked directly at him. "Rogue is in my body an' she's outnumbered an' hurt." He flinched as her pain hit him; three broken ribs on the left side, he suspected. "She's gonna die wit'out help."

"Gambit? But how..."

"No time!" He leaped over Jean's body. "I need y' powers!"

Immediately, Wolverine held out his hand. "Go fer it, Gumbo."

Suddenly, she was healing. Rogue took a deep breath, straightening as her wounds closed, bones knitting and strengthening, bruises disappearing. The assassins still on their feet moaned at the sight of it.

Rogue looked towards their leader. "Ah'm comin', Belladonna! Ah want mah baby back!"

Why wouldn't the bastard just die? Angry, Belle held the now quiet infant who stared at his father with wide eyes, and stabbed at the thief with her telepathy. Instead of crippling him like she planned, though, it bounced off his mental shields and she gasped. She knew the taste of her husband's mind and the flavour on those shields wasn't it.

"Rogue?" She whispered.

The X-Men began to line up and Remy felt an incredible gratitude as he raced among them, touching each in turn.

Desperate not to displease their leader, and thereby shame themselves, the remaining assassins continued their assault. Down to only twenty members, the rest groaning or silent on the ground, they blasted and fired at the mutant, but his powers had no end to them. As Belle watched, he, or she, or whoever he was, swung his arms wide, bringing walls of ice up between himself and his attackers. Reacting immediately, she blasted those walls down and watched as he stabbed one attacker in the head with a glowing knife that appeared out of the back of one hand. Bone claws protruded from the other.

Belle didn't know what kind of demon this was, but it wasn't her husband. She could see her people falling before him as he seemed now to melt into the shadows and reappear ten feet from where he'd been last. Her skin crawled to think that she'd fucked this creature, and that she carried his child in her arms now, that her throne depended on it.

He reappeared before her, obviously not able to teleport into the light of the bonfire she stood in, and she lashed out at him with the energy power gifted her by Candra. Gambit's breath whooshed out of him as he was blown backwards into the burning rubble of the mansion. Small hope that it would kill him.

Belle looked around the ruins of her backyard and gardens and gasped. Not a single assassin was left standing. All of them were down at the hands of that mutant and his endless powers. Her eyes narrowed. Too much like Rogue's powers, too much like Rogue's mind. But none of her people had the abilities Remy used, and Rogue needed to use touch to drain a person. Something else was going on here and she didn't like now knowing what it was.

Suddenly, SWAT teams came around the corner, weapons ready, and she snarled. This night's debacle would be paid for in blood for a very long time, until every thief in the city was dead. But not yet. Not when she had her own freedom to ensure.

Turning her back on her people without a second thought, she lifted herself into the sky.

Gasping with exertion, Remy lifted his hand from Psylocke's unconscious face and looked at the three men he hadn't drained. Scott, who had no control over his powers, Warren, whose powers weren't transferable, and Hank, who knelt over the unconscious X-Men. The way he was feeling, he'd need some attention from the doctor soon himself.

He didn't let himself think of what was happening in New Orleans, of the odds Rogue was facing. Or if she'd be able to save their son. All he cared about was that he could feel she was alive, and healed by Logan's powers. And so very, very angry.

So much f' patience, eh, my love? He thought, his eyes closing as he leaned against the cool wall. I woulda brought him t' y'. My vengence 'gainst de assassins not s'posed t' be dis bloodthirsty.

He was exhausted, soaked in sweat, blood running down his legs from the birth she'd given only a day before. He wanted to be with her so badly, wanted to face whatever she did with her, in mind and not just in body.

"Remy-?" He heard, then "Catch her! Him! Whatever!"

The body he'd borrowed hit the floor, but he was already long gone, on his way to her side in New Orleans.

Deep within the rubble of the mansion, Remy lifted a half ton concrete support pillar off his chest and sat up, shaking his head to stop the ringing.

Didn' y' t'ink t' duck, chere? He thought.

Ah had other things on mah mind, Rogue replied just as quietly. That bitch has our baby.

I know. What say we get de li'l guy back, neh?

Ah thought ya'd nevah ask.

Somehow, they were in the same body again, almost to the degree they had been when giving birth, when they'd been one mind. They were more separate now, just like they had after he lost his original body. Sharing the same form and the same mind, but with their own thoughts. It was strange to be that way again, yet so familiar.

In charge of the body for the moment, Remy stood and hurried out of the rubble. Hopping down to the grass outside, he suddenly found himself the attention of an entire SWAT team of New Orleans police. Helicopters flew overhead, shining their lights down on him.

"What de-?"

"Get down on the ground and spread 'em!" A cop yelled.

Suddenly, Rogue took control, wrenching them around and looking upwards. There she is! Her thought was a triumphant shout.

Belladonna was flying away from the mansion, her blonde braids the only thing visible in the night sky.

"AH'M GONNA KILL THAT BITCH!"

At the same time he tried to reach for some kind of ammo to use against Belle, Rogue tried to rocket them both into the sky, and they wound up stumbling and falling instead. Taking it for surrender, the cops moved in.

Stop fightin' me! he thought desperately as a knee went into his back and the police yanked his hands behind his back, locking them into cuffs.

You stop fightin' me! she retorted.

It was a problem they'd had before while in the same body, but never to this degree. Before, Rogue had almost always been able to force control because it was her body, but now she was so angry that, even though it was his body this time, they were stalemated and couldn't even move.

Go like at de birth! he shouted at her. Let de Gestalt merge us!

She hesitated, then threw her mind directly at him. They flowed together, and two became one, with no conflict in how to operate their body.

"BELLADONNA!" they screamed, their voice reverberated off the ruins of the house and the heavens. Snapping the handcuffs, they shot into the sky like a missile, straight up so fast that the sound barrier broke, heralding their flight with an explosion.

At five hundred feet, they leveled out, flying rapidly in the direction Belle had taken. There was no sign of her in the lights of the city and the Mississippi River below, or in the air around them, but it wasn't like Belle to go to ground. She didn't like to admit her defeat or cower in some city alley like a beggar. Instead, they barrel rolled and flew up.

They hit cloud cover, blinding them, then broke through into clear night air. There was still no sign of Belladonna.

But they could hear a baby crying.

Ah'm comin', baby, they thought. Don' be afraid.

North. The crying was to the north, towards the river and the French Quarter, away from the old homes of the Garden District. Quickly, they flew that way, wishing they still had Jean's telepathy. But all of the X-Men's powers were fading now. They only had the powers they were each gifted with, against a killer with their son.

Ahead, they saw the green cloak of Belladonna, flapping in the wind as she flew almost nonchalantly, holding the baby in her arms. He was still screaming, but she ignored him.

"Belladonna!" They yelled. "Give me de baby an' I won' break ya neck!"

Instantly, she whirled and fired at them. Green lightning came out of her hands and they dodged, but it wasn't a single beam. It was broken up into a dozen jagged ones, and they couldn't avoid them all. One caught them in the shoulder, and they fell almost a hundred feet before they could regain control and stop.

Above, Belle had put on speed, racing away from them.

Not again, bitch.

They had no cards, no objects they could charge even if they dared to. They would have to get in close and attack her hand to hand, braving the lightning and praying that their son would be safe. If they could.

"Belle! Dis ya last chance!"

Her laughter answered him. "Go ahead, Remy! Fight me if y' wan' to, but I make no guarantees about de petite enfant's safety."

They swore, and with no other choice, followed her through the thickening, darkening clouds, closing to fifty feet before she blasted them a second time. Again, they couldn't dodge completely the wide range of her powers and fell behind once more. Only the crying of their child and her laughter showed them where to follow in the growing storm.

They began to grow desperate, their fear splitting them back into their component personalities.

She's gonna get away, Rogue wailed. We can't get close ta her!

Thinking furiously, Remy grinned as an idea occurred to him. "Maybe not, chere," he murmured. "Dese clouds may not be as much of a hind'rance as we t'ought." Chuckling, he dove into the darkness.

Dizzily, Bishop lifted his head. He hadn't been completely drained by Remy's touch, remaining conscious enough to know what was going on, and learn what had happened, but it had certainly knocked him off his feet. Looking around, he could see all the X-Men stirring, rising and shaking their heads as they recovered. His eyes met Logan's, then Wolverine's widened in shock.

Bishop turned and his own heart clenched with horror. Rogue's body lay on its back on the floor, unconscious with no sign of any mind in residence, whether Rogue or Gambit. Blood was flowing freely from between her legs and her face was gray. Hank was just fitting an inhibitor collar around her neck. Once he did, he started mouth-to-mouth breathing. Scott knelt on her other side and began to press his hands down on her heart.

Jean gasped, crawling past him. "Hank!" She cried. "There's no mind in there! Nothing! She doesn't have enough of an astral presence in her to keep her heart beating. It's all gone!"

Hank cursed. "Well, you're the telepath. Do something about it!" She nodded and closed her eyes.

Wishing that there was anything he could do, Bishop knelt with the other silent X-Men and watched, praying that this didn't mean Gambit and Rogue had lost their battle for their son.

Silently, Remy flew through the clouds, eyes closed as he strained with his spacial awareness sense to detect Belle's presence. He even used Rogue's less reliable seventh sense. Nothing. Nothing...

Ah sense her, sugah, Rogue said.

He nodded grimly. Fifty feet down, directly below them under the level of the cloud cover. Delicately, he reduced their altitude, until there was only ten feet between them, but he was still covered in cloud. Another foot and he could see through the wisps of the bottom of the thick storm cloud. Belle was right below them.

Now. Rogue thought.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning ten feet thick flashed through the clouds, almost setting them on fire and lighting up the sky like it was day. Startled, Belle looked up and saw them.

They dove.

This time, Belle didn't have the chance to fire and they collided in midair, twisting and turning as they fell with the baby screaming yet somehow safe in the hollow between their bodies. With Rogue screaming encouragement and death threats in his mind, Remy tried to touch any part of his skin to Belle's, but only her face was uncovered and she had an arm up between him and it. They barrel rolled, jammed together like a couple of lovers in their aerial ballet.

"I ain' losin' t' you," she grated.

He laughed. "Y' already have, Belle. Trus' me."

"Never," she spat.

"Ya cain't get away with this," Rogue said with his voice. "Ya ain't even got a people ta go back ta."

Belle's eyes narrowed. "She's in you... what a joke." Abruptly, her powers flashed out, only one arc, but one that went straight into him and broke his hold on her. "Well, you won't have anything either."

Her hands were glowing, ready to fire the deadliest bolt yet, and he wondered dimly if he was too close to survive it even with Rogue's invulnerability. Even Rogue herself seemed unsure.

Then lightning struck the assassin and with a shriek of pain she dropped the baby.

"NO!" He screamed.

"Get your child!" Storm cried, soaring out of the clouds towards them. "Hurry!"

They didn't need her encouragement. Flipping over, they dove after the screaming baby, the ground growing closer beneath them. Two hundred feet, one hundred. Their arms closed around the infant, but they were moving too fast. His bones were too soft to take an abrupt stop. So they continued to drop, cooing to him and slowing the fall gradually. Thirty feet, twenty, ten...

Gently, Remy rolled over, floating horizontally in the air a meter above the quietly flowing waters of the Mississippi. The shivering baby lay on his chest, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Hi," he said softly. "It's okay now, y' safe."

The baby blinked.

"Mah baby," Rogue whispered. She used his hands to stroke the child's soft hair. "Ya were so brave."

The baby yawned.

Above, lightning, both white and green, flashed in the clouds, making it look almost as through the sky were on fire. But neither of them cared, neither willing to move an inch.

The baby was asleep.

With a sigh, Rogue opened her eyes and looked up at the stunned faces of the X-Men.

"Ah got mah son back," she said with a smile.

Quietly, Remy knelt down and laid the flowers on the grass before the tomb, careful not to wake the baby boy who slept in a sling against his chest. He was a quiet baby, not much for fussing, though certainly for eating. Any time he was awake, he wanted a bottle. Remy had decided to take it as a sign that he was going to grow up to be a big boy. In which direction that growth would take was still up in the air.

"Y' knew, didn' y', Poppa," he said softly, staring at the ornate cross that marked his family tomb. "Y' knew what de Elixir be doin' t' de fam'lies. Yet y' still kept takin' it 'cause it what de Council wan'ed."

It was a sobering thought, to realize that his father, the man he'd idolized and loved, was weak. He was the strong one. Stronger even than he'd thought.

"I f'give y', Poppa. Like I couldn' de Council." The baby yawned in his sleep and he smiled. "Dis be y' grandson. I know y' had lots in y' time, but he's kinda special t' me." The baby snuggled closer to his warmth and the smile faded into sorrow. "I miss y' still, Poppa. I know why y' died now. I can' change t'ings, but I will make it so dat it won' happen t' anyone else. De Guild an' fam'lies will be safe, jus' like y' wan'ed." His hand stroked the cross. "And I get t' be free too."

"Remy," Storm said softly from where she waited patiently, allowing him his moment of goodbye. "Someone is coming."

Remy nodded. He'd already sensed him, had been waiting for him in fact. With the new Council in place for the Guild and his son in his care, saying goodbye to his father had been the last thing he needed to do in New Orleans. That and one other. He stood and turned around.

"Allo, Detective Parker."

The cop hesitated, and for the first time, Remy saw fear in his eyes. He'd been one of the police on the scene at Belladonna's mansion, and had seen and no doubt heard from the survivors what he'd done. But still he came alone. Remy respected him for his courage. He'd need it.

Parker looked towards Storm. She regarded him for a moment, then quietly walked out of earshot. He turned back to the Cajun.

"What happened at the Beaudreaux plantation?" He asked cautiously.

Remy shrugged. "Guild business."

Parker's eyes narrowed. "Are you aware how much damage your Guild business cost? How many people were hurt and killed?"

The baby whimpered and he stroked his back gently until he calmed. "I don' have de time t' 'xplain my actions t' y', but know dis. No one died dere who ain' committed murder a dozen times over." The detective looked startled. "'Member sayin' y' heard rumours a' de Guild a' Assassins. Dose were dem."

Parker considered that for a long moment. "I see." He didn't look like he believed him.

Remy smiled. "It's true. Now, I got somet'ing I wan' y' t' do f' me."

"Since when am I your servant?"

"Since never, but dis is in y' best interest." He walked over to a nearby bench where he'd left the things he'd brought with him. Baby supplies and a rucksack of his clothes, and a cardboard box. He picked up the heavy box and brought it over to the detective. "In here be everyt'ing y' need t' bring down de Guild f' good."

Parker's face betrayed his eagerness as he knelt and opened the box, pawing through the papers and disks inside. He read one and his skin turned pale. "This is a contract for a murder," he whispered. "My God." He stared up at him. "Your Guild did this?"

He shook his head. "What Guild is dat? Dere's only one Guild in N'Awleans. De Guild of Assassins, ruled by Belladonna Beaudreax. Dose are her records, listing every member and dere hits f' de past t'irty years. She gonna get de death penalty f' what in dat box." His face was grim when he said it. He was NOT going to allow his ex-wife to threaten him or his family ever again. Rogue wanted to break her neck for what she did. He planned to break her soul.

Parker still looked confused. "But the Thieves..."

Remy smiled coldly, his eyes glowing. "Listen t' me ver' carefully. Dere is no Guild a' T'ieves. It only a legend. Dere only de Guild a' Assassins." His eyes flashed. "You t'ink I gonna hand my fam'ly over t' you? Turn traitor? Non. I broke inta y' office an' databases. All mention of de T'ieves? All y' records an' recordins a' talkin' t' me? Gone. All a' it. Even de private notes y' had in y' house." Parker was going white. "It took y' ten years t' learn what y' did of us. Now we know 'bout y'. Y' never gonna get e'en a whisper a us again, an' b'fore I let y' leave here, I'm takin' de tape y' got runnin' a' this now. I WILL NOT betray m' fam'ly." He gestured at the box. "Instead, y' get a Guild a' killers. Dat'll keep y' busy f' de rest a' ya career."

Parker stared up at him, stunned, his face changing colour as if he didn't know whether to be afraid, angry or elated. Finally, since he had no other choice, he turned back to the treasure he'd been given.

Slowly, Belladonna walked across the still smoking ruins of her mansion, trying to make her progress look stately and not just painful. She had electrical burns down her side and back from that weather witch. She'd finally had to dive into the river to escape her.

Her customary frown deepened. She was just one more person she would have to make pay.

Over half her Guild was gone, dead or in hospital. All because of one mutant. Or two in one. She snarled. Gambit would suffer for what he'd done. She'd take the child she needed back over his dead body, then kill every last member of his family. There'd be a bath of Thieves' blood in the French Quarter like there hadn't been in two hundred years. Remy thought she was beaten. He didn't know the first thing about how to destroy someone. It would take time, but the Guild would be restored. And she was still the one in charge.

"Mistress."

Belladonna turned, silently cursing her injuries, to see Gris-Gris coming towards her, accompanied by several of the elders of the Guild, old men with influence that she hadn't quite swayed to her side, or gotten rid of yet. They'd disapproved initially of her running, as they saw it, from the battlefield. It'd been to protect her infant child, she'd told them, and they'd believed it. Fools.

Gris-Gris' normally impassive face turned pleading for a moment, then he inclined his head. "Mistress, there is... news."

The elders hadn't bowed at all. Belle ignored that irritation for the moment to address herself to Gris-Gris. He'd obviously been trying to tell her something as he came up. "What is it?"

"The lab... it finished the test."

The paternity test, to prove the infant was sired by LeBeau. "And?" She said coolly. There couldn't have been anything to go wrong with them. The baby WAS Remy's child.

Gris-Gris bit his lip, not looking at her.

"There was an... unexpected mistake," one of the elders told her, his eyes like hard flint. "The request for a paternity test was changed to a maternity test instead." Belladonna felt her insides turn cold.

"And you failed."

It was Gambit, she realized. He'd sworn vengeance upon her. Sworn to end her rule... Belle tried to think of something to say, words to turn this around and reestablish their control, but under the eyes of the killers, nothing would immediately come. Then her time ran out.

"Belladonna Beaudreax." She turned again numbly to see a man, accompanied by a group of heavily armed police and what looked like SHIELD agents coming towards her. The man stopped a few feet away and showed her his badge. "I'm Detective Parker," he told her. "And you're under arrest for the murder of Jean-Luc LeBeau."

A hundred feet short of the mansion in Westchester, New York, Remy stopped the car and leaned back in his seat, both hands still on the wheel as he took a deep breath. From the passenger seat, Ororo smiled at him.

"It has been a long time, has it not?"

He nodded silently. "Oui. Nine months. Mon dieu, it feels like a lifetime."

The baby burbled in the back and Storm looked back to coo at him in his car carrier. Blue eyes blinked at her before the baby returned to the fascinating activity of staring at the roof of the car. Remy chuckled.

"Did I t'ank you f' helpin' us get him back from Belle?" He asked.

Ororo smiled again. "Only once every five minutes since we left New Orleans. I only thank the Goddess that I saw the commotion and was able to use my lightning to light up the sky enough to see you."

"Oui..." Remy bent his head until his forehead touched the steering wheel and groaned. "What am I gonna say t' her?"

Puzzled at the change in conversation, Storm tilted her head to one side. "To Rogue?"

"Oui. Who else ever tie me up in knots?"

She frowned slightly. "I had believed you reconciled with her when you were merged."

He snorted. "We were fightin' Belle. By de time t'ings calm down, she had t' go back t' her own body. We didn' get t' say anyt'ing t' each ot'er. I know she love me but - it been so long."

Gently, she placed a warm brown hand over his. "It will only become longer if we continue to sit here. Go to her, Remy. Bring her your child."

He was quiet for a long minute, then nodded. "Okay, Stormy."

"And do not call me Stormy."

He grinned wolfishly and steered the car back up to the road. The gate opened for Storm's password and they drove up to the house. No one was immediately there to help them, so Storm got out to get the luggage from the back while Remy tried to juggle the baby supplies and his infant son at the same time.

"Y'know," he said to him. "Dis be a lot easier if y' were born knowin' how t' walk." The baby burbled at him. "Well, float at least. How much y' been eatin'?"

"Father."

He blinked, gaping at the little boy. "Hehn?"

"Hello, Bishop."

Remy turned at Storm's voice to see the big black man standing on the steps to the mansion. He was unarmed, his face impassive as always, but Remy had gotten to know him well enough to realize there was something seriously bothering him. Storm smiled at him sympathetically, then shot a warning glance at Remy once she was out of his line of sight. With that, she went into the mansion and closed the door.

Oh, yeah. I 'member now. On the way back from New Orleans, Storm had filled him in on everything that happened in his absence, including how Bishop had guarded Rogue all during her pregnancy, then failed to protect the child. Remy wasn't all that surprised. Knowing Belle, she had a folder on him half an inch thick. But how to tell Bishop that he didn't blame him? He was pretty sure Rogue did.

His face blank, Bishop came down the steps. "Can I help you carry some of that?" He asked, gesturing at some of the half dozen tote bags he was carrying, all full of diapers and baby clothes and blankets and toys.

"Um, sure." Remy struggled to sort the plethora of straps over his shoulder, then finally, on impulse, he just handed him the baby himself. "Here, carry y' baby brother."

Bishop was flabbergasted. His jaw dropped as he cradled the little boy, who looked up at him seriously, then looked back at his father and blew bubbles. "You... you trust..." he didn't look like he could get the words out.

"'Course I do. Y' fam'ly." Embarrassed now himself, Remy passed him. "'Sides, who else I got f' guaranteed babysittin' duty? Jus' don' teach him any of dat de law is always right shit, neh?"

Bishop behind him, carrying the baby as he would a priceless vase or a bomb about to explode, Remy pushed open the front door and went in, only to be immediately jumped by almost all the females and a few of the males in the house. Immediate congratulations and much cooing over the baby proceeded from there.

Grinning, Remy turned from being handed one of Logan's best cigars to face Scott.

"What happened?" Scott asked calmly.

Remy regarded him with equal strength, but if Scott was surprised, he didn't show it.

"A couple years ago, I saved Belle by givin' her de Elixir a Life," he explained. "It made her sterile, but a leader a de Assassins Guild mus' be able t' produce an heir. She married t' me, so de baby had t' be fat'ered by me too. When she found out Rogue pregnant, she killed m' fat'er so dat I'd be called back t' N'Awlins t' be de leader a' de T'ieves Guild. She pretended t' get pregnant by me, den stole Rogue's baby once he was born. But wit' Hank's help, I knew what de Elixir could do, an' when I heard m' son kidnapped, I figured it out an' I took de baby back. End a story."

The X-Men were silent as he spoke, then Logan whistled. "Nasty. Hope ya got her fer it, Gumbo."

Remy smiled coldly. "I switched de test request from paternity t' maternity. By now, de Guild know she ain't de mot'er of dis baby." Logan laughed, appreciating the maneuver. Scott didn't say anything.

Gambit ignored him, sighing as he looked up at the second floor. "Rogue still in her room healin', neh?" Without waiting for an answer, he collected his son from Bishop and started up the stairs, the X-Men's eyes on his back every step of the way. They didn't say anything, but he knew them well enough to know they supported him. Ironic that it had to take his leaving for them to really get to understand him.

A moment later, Bobby hurried up after him. "Gambit, wait up." He stopped for him, and the younger man handed him something. He blushed. "Um, Rogue was really upset by all of this at first and she took this off. I kept it. I think she might want it back now."

Remy looked down at the diamond ring in his hand, then up at his teammate, truly gratified. "T'ank you, Bobby."

Iceman shrugged. "It wasn't anything, really. Um, good luck, man." He hurried off.

With a sigh, Remy turned and continued to Rogue's room. He couldn't sense her at all now. They were too close together for the Gestalt to kick in. Whatever they did, it'd have to be without any benefit of a link. Before he could lose his nerve, he knocked on the door, stroked his son's soft cheek for reassurance, and went in.

Rogue had been asleep for a good part of the day, recovering from her exertions in New Orleans. She'd been amazed at how much it affected her body in Salem and Beast had ordered her on pain of inhibitor collars and sicking Logan on her to take it easy. Since she knew her son was safe, it was easy. It was all a matter of waiting now.

That wait came to an end as the door opened and Remy came in. For the first few moments, Rogue didn't even see him. All she saw was the little baby boy he carried in his arms. Immediately, her lip started to tremble and the tears welled up in her eyes. Scrabbling at the bedside table while he silently brought him over, she grabbed the inhibitor collar Beast made her wear when he examined her and locked it around her throat. She ripped her pyjama top open and he laid the baby in her arms. Spotting the new food source immediately, the baby latched on and began to suck. Quietly, Remy sat on the edge of the bed, content to wait as she reacquainted herself with her child.

No words were used. Just coos and smiles as she rocked him, letting him drink his fill of her milk, just as she'd dreamed of since she was a little girl. A baby of her own. An infant who depended upon her, who needed her. Tears rolled down her cheeks and Remy brushed them away, yet she couldn't stop smiling.

Finally, however, the greedy baby suckled himself into sleep, and she couldn't not pay attention to the man who sat so close beside her, whose scent filled her nose, whose breathing reached her ears. For months, she'd hated him, then forgiven him and finally loved him again. And for the first time since he left her, she turned and looked him in the face, not knowing what to say to him after so long apart.

Remy coughed. "Um, so... how was dinner?"

"We had pot roast."

"Really." He nodded his head lamely. "I like pot roast."

He fell silent then, staring at her, his eyes pleading with her to say anything at all.

"Oh, Remy!" She cried, throwing herself into his arms and starting to sob. The baby woke, whimpered, then went back to sleep again.

"I missed y', chere," Remy whispered, holding her tightly, his face buried in her long hair. "Ev'ry day I t'ought a y', ev'ry minute, I wan'ed y' by m' side. I don' ever wan' t' leave y' again. I don' care where we are, or what we do. I jus' wan' t' be wit' you. Y' wan' go back t' dat li'l house, jus' say it an' I'll be dere."

"Oh, Remy..." she gushed. Then suddenly realized something.

He was giving up control to her. Giving her the right to choose the path of his life for him. Willingly, because he loved her. She'd have taken that offer once, not even realizing its significance or what she'd done. But now...

She leaned back and cupped his stubbled cheek. "Why don't we stay here foh awhile, sugah, then decide what we both want?"

His smile was dazzling. "Sounds good t' me, chere."

Between them, the baby woke again, blinked, then worked himself up into a good cry. Rogue gaped down at him, not entirely sure what to do. "What's wrong?" She gasped.

"I t'ink he needs t' be changed."

Already a master, Remy scooped the baby out of her arms, put a towel on the bed and laid him on top of it. As Rogue watched in semi-disgusted fascination, he undressed him, removed the diaper, cleaned him and rediapered him. The baby looked relieved and Rogue smiled. "Let me guess, ah got ta learn ta do that, right?"

"I ain' doin' it all myself, chere."

Her smile widened. They were already back to where they had been. So comfortable in each other's presence that it didn't matter how long he'd been away.

Then Remy frowned. "Um, Rogue. I hate t' ask but-" He grinned and pointed at the baby. "What's his name?"

Cody. She almost said it, had it on the tip of her tongue. Then she shrugged. "What would ya like ta name him, sugah?" She asked, for once giving a little of the control back to him. Not all, just a little. His smile proved she'd done the right thing.

"I t'ink I name him Jean-Luc."

Jean-Luc lay in his crib, staring across the room at the bed. Remy and Rogue lay asleep there, Rogue's arm over Remy and her diamond ring glinting on her finger. To him they were big, fuzzy objects, somethings that kept him warm and fed and made him feel loved. The other hadn't done that. He didn't remember her well, and the memory was fading, but he still remembered for now. He whimpered slightly, but didn't cry.

Bored in the way that babies awake late at night are, he listened to his parents breathe, Rogue's soft sigh and Remy's deeper breath. He knew them, recognized them. He wanted to be with them. He didn't know why they'd put him in the crib when he wanted to be in the bed with them.

Slowly, the newborn floated out of the crib, rising up until he was above the bars and rolling over, struggling with hands and legs like a baby placed in water, instinctively knowing how to swim.

Swimming in air instead, he made his way slowly over to the bed, and lowered himself into the warm hollow between his parents' bodies. Sighing happily, the little boy went back to sleep. It'd been tiring, but easy. After all, he was part of the Gestalt too.

What to say, what to say...

Well, I hope you enjoyed the story, and I am sorry it took so long to come out. I find it much easier to sit in my lazy boy and write it out on paper than I do to type those papers up and post them. :)

I'm not quite sure what to say in these comments, or even if it's necessary to say anything, but The King of Thieves was so involved and such a part of my life for so long that I figured I should say something, or at least try to answer some of the questions I've been asked.

I plotted most of KOT before I wrote it, way back in September or so, so I knew where it was going. I knew that Belle would be after Rogue's baby and Remy would rise up from his own self doubt to truly become the leader of his people, while Rogue grew to realize how much she'd always tried to control things around her, even when she shouldn't. And I knew that everyone would be back where they belonged by the end. I even knew all the whys. It's the hows that occasionally caught me by surprise.

When I originally came up with the idea of the Gestalt, I had no idea what it was. I still don't. It's still evolving and changing in my mind, just like it does in the story. Until Remy leaped off that roof running from Parker and flew, I didn't know he could. I'd originally planned for him to be caught and have to deal with getting bailed out and all the humiliations of arrest. Maybe in another story (evil grin). I also didn't realize how Remy and Rogue could transfer not just their own powers to one another, but those of other people as well. As I said in the introduction, Remy likes to take my plotlines and run with them in new directions. He truly writes himself.

The main concept of the story, of course, was the love between Remy and Rogue, which long time readers know is a staple of my fanfiction. Ah, romance. :) I split them up because I wanted to play with getting them back together without any actual contact between them. I believe I succeeded in that, and hopefully all of you agree. Or at least some of you. I knew they'd get back together though. I can't really imagine them apart.

At any rate, it's been a lot of fun. Romance, betrayal, politics, death and all that assorted other crap. :) I even got to throw in a few things from my own life. Well, one thing at any rate. Yes, the scene with the burnt insta-cookies happened to me. 15 minutes to bake, and I filled the entire house with smoke. Yeesh.

Lori McDonald
May 3, 1997