Jubilee caught Christopher up in her arms as she yelled for the man to stop. "Let her go, you pervert! Stop him! He stole my baby sister!" She pointed the security guard in the right direction, but there were too many people in the way. Jubilee lost sight of him. "Too fucking short," she muttered. Christopher was crying into her shoulder.
"Jubilee?" She turned at the sound of Remy's voice. She bolted towards him and hugged him.
"Papa!" Christopher demanded. He was transferred over and he promptly buried his face in Remy's trenchcoat. The security guard approached.
"The police are on their way. We've got people in the parking lot. We'll find her."
"He shouldn't have gotten to the goddamned parking lot. He snatched her like she was a purse and nobody did a fucking thing except stare!"
Remy didn't bother calling her on the language. "Petite, y' go get the bags f' me? Left 'em at the Gap."
"Who were you shopping for?"
"Scott. Boy wears the worst looking kahkis. Go on. We wait f' y'."
Jubilee ran full out, yellow trenchcoat flaring out behind her, face fixed into a battle-grin that kept her from crying. "And you are what relation to the child?"
"This is Papa Remy!" Christopher gave the security officer his most imperious, smug smile. He'd copied if off of his Dad – Scott Summers. "Ju-Ju was walking us to the toy store so he could get Dad some pants that don't sag."
"Your father?" the security officer hazarded. Remy shook his head with a smile.
"It's complicated."
Thinking of her own family of step-parents, the officer nodded in understanding.
"I want Rachel back right now." Christopher pouted. It usually got him what he wanted.
"Sorry, petite, y' gonna have t' wait."
"But why? She's my sister."
"Because we don't know where she is."
"I can find her. I always find her when we play hide and seek." Christopher frowned at his papa. "Don't laugh at me."
"I’m not, petite. Just wish we was playin' hide and seek."
"Were," Christopher corrected.
"Y' right. Wish we were playin'."
Jubilee came back with both hands full of bags. "I ain't yer pack-horse, bub."
"Non?" Remy blinked innocently. The police arrived a moment later and Jubilee launched into her story.
"Let's move this up to the office," the security officer suggested. Remy nodded, feeling exposed.
"I'll carry, Chris, you get the bags?" Jubilee offered.
"Half dat stuff's y'rs, petite."
"Don't call me 'petite'."
"Okay, short stuff."
"I'm gonna kill Bobby for starting that." Jubilee picked up the bags. "Should I call the fam?"
"Oui." They settled in the office. Chris refused to let go of his Papa Remy. The empath's soothing projections made him feel safe. His sister Ju-Ju was on the phone. Chris looked at the police officer suspiciously. He couldn't read minds like mama yet, but he could read body language like Mama Belle and he could smell fear like Daddy.
"Why are you scared?" he asked.
Remy blinked at the child, "'tite?"
"Not you. Her." He pointed at the security guard, Janie Stuart. The blonde young woman blinked.
"I'm worried about your sister," she answered. "A detective from Missing Persons is on the way."
"You think something bad's going to happen to her. Don't worry. Even Uncle Victor doesn't hurt us."
"Uncle Victor?" Jubilee squeaked "Tell me he doesn't mean. . .?"
"M. Chat? Oui. Rachel likes his claws. Made me a nervous wreck when I found out Rogue took 'em t' meet Raven and that Creed was visitin'."
"Gumbo, you have a fucked up home life."
"Don't use that word. I'm still impressionable."
"Oh my god, he's a mini-Scott."
"Oui." Remy grinned at her. "Should've named him Nat'an."
"Like Cable? Ew. That'd suck." Jubilee wrinkled up her nose. "The fam's on the way."
"How many of 'em?"
"The parentals and Warren and Ro. Bobby's checking liquidation ops and Rogue's calling Raven."
"Who'll call Vic. I better call Belle and m' accountant. Might be this got not'in' t' do wit' who she is."
"I hope that's not true," Stuart said.
The police detective entered. He was a slight man with sharp grey eyes and a goatee. "I'm Detective Grahm. My partner is Detective Carter."
"Remy LeBeau-Summers. This is Christopher."
"Jubilee."
The detectives shook hands with each one of them. Grahm knelt so he could look Christopher in the eye. He was startled by the red and black combination. "Did you see what happened?"
"Are you scared of mutants?" Chris asked bluntly. "If you are I want someone else to find Ray."
"I was startled, but I’m not scared." Just then there was a commotion at the door. It opened to reveal five people. Jean rushed in before anyone could say a word. She swept Christopher up into her arms. Chris squirmed.
"Mom! Daddy, Dad!" He reached out for Logan and Jean transferred him over. She kissed Remy softly on the mouth.
"It'll work out, Sweetie. We'll get her back."
"Lojack," Scott muttered as he hugged the Cajun. "I’m getting Lojack installed in all of you."
Remy laughed. He shook his head. "Best t' give the tecs a statement, then get home. Whoever done this might call and want t' talk t' a parent."
"Charles is home."
"As a grandpere they might not talk t' him."
"He's got the money."
"So do I."
"I hadn't considered that. Does Bobby have your accountant's number?"
"Oui. He's got it."
Christopher sat on Jubilee's lap as she talked to the police. He put his arms around her neck. She hugged him close. "He was wearing a funny necklace," Chris broke into her description.
"What did it look like, kiddo?" she asked. Detective Grahm glanced at his partner who was getting Rachel's picture and description from Jean.
"It was a band with patterns on it."
Remy's back stiffened. He dug into his bags, looking for the sketch pad he'd picked up on a whim.
"What sort of patterns?" Grahm asked.
"They looked like vervre. But I don't know why someone would wear those."
"Vervre?" Carter asked.
Christopher nodded.
"Petite, y' draw it for us?"
"Sure." Remy handed over the pen and paper.
"What are vervre?" Carter asked.
"Voodoun religious symbols," Scott informed her.
"And he's seen these because?" The detective's brows rose.
"Because Remy's a practitioner of sorts. He does it more because the woman who raised him asked him to be better about it." Scott shrugged. "I don't know why someone would wear one though."
"A voodoo practitioner."
"Well, Jean's Catholic and Logan's got this whole Shinto-Buddhist vibe, so the kids are very open minded."
"And you?"
"Atheist on bad days, Pagan on good days, Episcopalian when Charles asks."
"And what is your relationship to Rachel?"
"I'm one of her fathers."
Carter frowned. "So Remy is the biological father and is in a relationship with Logan, while Jean is the biological mother married to you?" She guessed.
Scott couldn't help but laugh. "Close, but not quite there. The four of us come as a set. Can't have one without the other three. The kids consider us all to be their parents and we all take care of them and each other."
Carter blinked. "Is there a word for that?"
"Poly-amorous or poly-fidelitous." Scott frowned. "What's wrong, Rems?"
"This ain't vervres. But dey is magick. Dis psycho's wearin' a collar he dinks makes him invulnerable, untouchable."
"How do you know that?" Grahm asked.
"M' Oncle Steven taught me some spell-work. Protection an' how t' reverse it." Remy canted his head to the side as Chris reached to play with his bangs. Chris tangled his fingers in the unruly hair. Scott hid a smile.
"We'd better get to your home in case there's a phone call," Carter said. "I've contacted the tech team and sent them ahead of us."
Logan snorted. "Which bags, kiddo?" he asked Jubilee.
"All of them," Remy stated.
"Was I talkin' to you?"
Remy smiled and batted his lashes. Logan gathered up the bags with a good-natured grumble. "Swear yer worse than a frail sometimes."
Jubilee punched Logan's arm. "We ain't all as tough as you, bub."
"Sis, stop punching. It's rude."
"Scott, I mean this in the best possible way, yer kid's a freak."
Chris balled up his fist and punched Jubilee in the shoulder. "And you teach him bad habits," Scott informed her. Scott tugged Remy's ponytail. "Detective Grahm can follow your car. Just in case this was a targeted attack. I'll call ahead and let them know to expect the tech."
Grahm raised a brow at the presumption, but didn't argue.
"I'll ride with Remy," Jean stated. She collected Christopher from Jubilee. The young woman nodded in understanding. A TK shield would fend off any stupid snatcher.
"Ro, War, take a look around the mall. Just in case Rach gets away and finds her way back here. We'll spin by and pick you up at closing."
"Send Bobby. I need to pay him back for a few things."
"If you mess up his car, I'm not helping fix it up," Scott warned.
"Oh, I won't do anything permanent."
Scott shook his head. "You were supposed to rub off on me, not the other way around."
"You just refined my natural tendencies."
"Ro-Ro, I want pictures, chere."
"I'll pick up a disposable camera," the weather goddess promised.
Carter wasn't sure if she was impressed with the group's calm reaction, or terrified by it. She'd never worked on a case where the parents were so light-hearted. But they weren't, she suddenly realized as she trailed the group. None of them were holding hands or touching in any way except for the mother and child, and considering their actions in the office that seemed very strange. They'd surrounded Jean and Christopher. Only one of them had his hands full, so there'd be nothing to slow any of them down. The two youngest were in the front, with Scott and Ororo to either side of Jean. Logan and Warren were in the back. The most impressive part of the whole thing was that they'd done it without any verbal communication. They looked perfectly natural on the surface, but their eyes tracked every movement of the crowd.
When they reached the Saab Remy'd been driving, they managed to look normal while protecting Jean from any attack while she put Chris into his safety seat. The groups broke up once Jean settled in the seat next to Chris. Jubilee took the passenger side without her usual whining.
Grahm pulled up in the Camry that was the partner's official car. Carter climbed in. She waved to Remy and they were off. "What do you think?" Grahm asked.
"I think they've been prepared for something like this for awhile. I think they've got major enemies."
"Money or politics?"
"Both," Carter said after a long pause.
"Crime syndicate?"
"Mutant rights."
Grahm blinked. "You think so?"
"I know so. We're going to Xavier's Institute for Higher Education. Xavier's a known advocate. And the kid asked you outright if you were scared of mutants."
"Could be some cult fanatics, given the magic symbols."
"Could be some underground rock group too."
"How much do you bet they're going to stonewall us?"
"No bet. If there's no ransom demand they'll use other sources."
"Kingpin?"
"Guild."
"Guilds are a myth."
"Maybe."
"Definitely. No organized crime organization could last for three hundred years without being exposed."
Carter held her tongue. She wasn't convinced. Her jaw dropped as they pulled up to the mansion. "Shit. This is a fucking castle."
Grahm nodded. "Let's go see how the family reacts."
Carter lifted her hand to knock on the door.
"Come in," Sam said with a welcoming smile before the hand could fall. "We're settin' up in the professor's office," he drawled. "Y'all want coffee, tea or lemonade?"
"Coffee," Carter said.
"Lemonade," answered her partner.
"Straight down the hall. It's the door with the brass plate next to it."
"Thanks."
They didn't need the brass plaque. The buzz of activity was enough to identify the room. They were welcomed by John Blake and his fellow tech Josie Kent. Kent was arguing with Kitty Pryde over the placement of the tracing equipment. The two women were getting louder and louder. "Enough!" Scott snapped. They both quieted. "Kitty, argument."
"If she puts the tracker there, it's going to screw with our voice interface."
"Josie, argument."
"If I put it elsewhere we won't be able to activate it quickly without interference."
"We'll do without voice activation for the moment."
Kitty glared at the tech as she finished up her placement. Josie couldn't resist sticking her tongue out. "Don't stick it out if you aren't going to use it," Kitty hissed.
"What makes you think I won't?" Josie challenged.
Kitty smirked at her. "My boyfriend'll beat you silly."
"I doubt that. He'll just want to watch."
"Hey, Pete, this chick is trying to horn in on you!" Kitty called to her boyfriend who was slumped on the couch with a beer and an unlit cigarette in his mouth.
"Only if I get t' watch," he called back.
"Git!" Kitty sighed. "Men are such pigs."
Josie laughed.
****
Rachel reached out for the telepathic link she'd shared with her brother since birth. //Chris.//
//Rach!// Chris squirmed out of his chair at the kitchen table and went to the bathroom. //Where are you? You okay?//
//This miserable connard has me locked in a closet. I can't get out of the ropes on my wrists. I want to come home.//
//Let me get mom.//
//Oh, no. He's back. There's a really sweet smell. I think I'm gonna puke.//
//Rachel!// Chris cried as he felt the link collapse. He ran to his papa. Remy rocked him without asking what had happened. "Rachel won't talk to me." Remy hugged him closer.
"Jeannie," he called into the intercom. "Y' come t' the library?"
"Of course." She was there a few minutes later. She settled on the couch. She stroked Chris' hair, wondering again at the softness. He looked so much like Scott that it was a wonder. "What's wrong, sweetie?"
"Rachel won't talk to me. She said she was going to be sick. Then, she stopped responding."
"Tell me exactly what she said."
Christopher turned to face her, his red eyes solemn. "She was in a closet. She was tied up. She said he was back and that there was a really sweet smell that was going to make her puke. Then, she went off the air."
"It's okay, Chris," Jean soothed. "She's been drugged. She'll wake up and then she'll talk to you again."
"Promise?"
Jean considered. "No, it's up to her whether she talks to you or not."
Chris nodded. "Read me a story, mommy?"
"What do you want me to read?"
"_Timequake_."
"Why don't you go get it for me?" Chris hurried off. "I can't believe I’m reading Vonnegut to a four year old."
"Can't help bein' geniuses." Remy shrugged. "Just remember that they could read it themselves. They just like spendin' time wit' y'."
"Why don't they ever ask you to read to them?"
"They know it ain't as easy f' me."
Jean blinked. "What do you mean? You read four languages."
"Ten actually, countin' Braille, but it don't come easy. I stumble over words and I can't pronounce some of it."
"You understand Hank."
"Never said I don' understand. I just got problems readin' out."
"Oh." Jean frowned. "Has anyone tested you for dyslexia?"
"Chere, I read ten languages. Don't matter none. Jubilee's the one who got de problems with learnin'. But Frosty fixed her up wit' a real good way 'round her problems. An' she's doin' fashion design, so some of the problems ain't so bad."
Chris returned with three books.
"I thought you wanted _Timequake_?"
"Well, I was looking at the shelf and these just jumped out at me." He displayed them: _The_Velvetine_Rabbit_, _1984_, and _A_Brave_New_World_. "You choose one."
Jean picked _The_Velvetine_Rabbit_, just in case any of the guests wandered in. Remy debated about staying to hear the story or seeking out a quiet place to call his wife. He determined that despite the fact he loved the story, he needed to talk to Belle before anything went wrong. He left Jean and Christopher in the armchair and went to what had been his room before they remodeled the boathouse to accommodate the kids.
He was surprised to find Jono Starsmore there. "Desole. F'got this was y'r room f' a minute."
//No problem. Can I do somet'in' fer ya, mate?//
"Just lookin' f' a quiet place t' make some calls."
//Feel free. I don't make much noise. Yer gonna be safer away from the cops?//
"Oui. Merci, Jono." Remy perched on the window sill. He fished his cellphone out of his trench. He lit a cigarette, as he opened the window. "Belle, we got trouble."
****
Scott rubbed his temples. His head was throbbing, leaving zebra-stripes of pain on the insides of his closed lids. Logan's broad hands settled on his shoulders. He massaged out the tension with gentle fingers then moved up to Scott's neck. "Thanks," Scott murmured.
"No problem, Darlin'. How you holdin' up?"
"I'm going to blast someone by the end of the day."
"Now, ya don't want to do that with all these cops around." Logan placed a kiss on the back of Scott's neck. Scott smiled and leaned back for the hug that would inevitably follow. Logan wrapped his strong arms around Scott's chest.
"Ack! PDA alert!" Bobby said, putting his hand over his eyes. "I'm too young."
"You're two years older than Remy, asshole," Scott responded.
"But I'm just a poor, little suburbanite. Not a man of the world."
"Not poor," Kitty interrupted. "Stupid, Immature. Maybe."
"Where's the rest of the quartet?" Betsy asked from the corner of the den where she was scanning the astral.
"I'm not sure," Scott admitted.
"Then go find them. Or lie down to kill your migraine," she ordered. "We'll call if anything happens."
Scott sighed. "Bobby, go by the mall to pick up War and Ro."
Bobby's eyes went wide. "But you might need my expertise."
"We'll be fine. Rems can get his accountant if you're temporarily unavailable."
"I don't trust that smile. Are you setting me up?"
"Would I do that?"
"In a word – yes."
"You'll go pick them up or you'll be on bathroom duty for two weeks."
"You should remove the stick from your ass one of these days."
Scott snorted. "Do you *really* want the old Slim back?" He smiled, a slow creeping smirk that promised danger. Bobby shivered.
"No, that's fine. I'll just go get Warren." He scurried out of the room. Charles came in as Bobby left. He glared at Scott.
"What have you done?"
"Merely struck a blow for the status quo. Is Rogue cooking tonight?"
"Yes."
"I'll call in for the pizzas then."
"She's not that bad," Kitty said from the comfort of Pete's lap.
"Kitty, those dinners you're thinking Rogue made were cooked by Remy when he was still ga-ga over her. Her cooking is marginally better than mine."
The computer genius winced. "Won't that be considered assaulting an officer?"
"I figure the food poisoning will keep them from pressing charges."
"Go. Sleep. You're getting snarky," Jubilee counseled.
"Come on, Darlin'. They're right." Logan chivvied Scott up to their mansion suite.
****
Jean rocked Christopher as he lay curled up in her arms. The library was quiet and still. She couldn't hear anyone in the hall. She closed her bright green eyes and leaned her head back. Sitting like this she could pretend everything was all right. The illusion didn't last long. She felt Remy's rage flare onto the astral. It was hot and harsh. Her eyes snapped open.
****
Jono put a hand on the Cajun's arm, refusing to be shaken off. //You just lit up the astral, mate. Every psi in two miles must of felt that.//
"Desole." Remy took a deep breath to calm himself, surprised that Jono simply stayed next to him, maintaining contact. The rage dissipated replaced by bone deep shame and fear.
//Not an improvement, pet. Don't bother shielding more. Yer shields are good enough. Yer just projecting 'cause I'm touching yer arm.// Jono soothed. //Yer going to have to talk to someone.// Jono tucked a piece of hair behind Remy's ear with gentle fingers.
"Didn't mean t' disturb y' so, me."
Jono shook his head. //Don't worry about me. Yer the one who's got a missing kid.//
There was a knock at the door. Remy ignored it. Jono rolled his eyes. "Remy? Jono?" It was Xavier. "Please open the door." Jono opened the door. Charles smiled at him. Remy shivered, panic welling in his chest.
//Professor? I think you'd better let someone else talk to him.//
//What's wrong?//
//Yer scarin' him.//
Xavier frowned. This time he saw the shiver. "Remy?"
"Je suis desole, M." Remy pulled away from Jono's grip.
The professor took in the widely dilated eyes, the trembling fingers and the defensive posture. "I'm not angry, Remy."
Jono glanced between the two men. He didn't want to let Remy out of his sight right then. He put a hand on the Cajun's shoulder. //I'll take care of him.//
//I'll send one of his lovers up?//
/No. Wait until I find out what's wrong.//
Xavier nodded.
****
Scott rolled over and put the pillow over his head to further minimize the light and sound. Hank bustled in a few minutes later, syringe in hand. "Give me your arm, Slim," he said softly. Scott stuck his arm out. The cool dab of the alcohol and the sharp prick of the needle were lost in the wash of pain throbbing through his head. The drug worked slowly. Hank rubbed Scott's back between his shoulder blades. Scott hadn't gotten a screamer like this in years. Hank shut the door carefully. "He should sleep three hours are that dose," he told Logan.
"Thanks, Hank."
****
Jean tucked Christopher in next to his father. //Now don’t pound on Dad. He's got a migraine.//
Chris made a face, but nodded. He snuggled close to his father. Jean kissed his forehead.
****
Logan snarled at Sabretooth.
Creed held up a hand. "I heard about the punklet. I'm just here to deliver some equipment to the brat."
"I'll take it. Yer gonna get yer ass off this property before I get so sick of smellin' yer stinkin' carcass I have to kill ya."
"No way. Kid's hands only. I'll stay here, but ain't nobody touchin' this shit except Gumbo."
Logan thumbed the intercom. "Rems, ya got a package."
"Merci."
Remy put on his "cheerful" face. Jono shook his head. //Chin up, mate.//
"Thanks, Mary Poppins."
Jono swiped at the thief. Remy laughed and went down to the front hall. "Hey, Punk."
"Victor." The smile disappeared. "Y' have any trouble?"
"Nope. She was real particular about keepin' it all wrapped in silk though."
"She's like that. All f' a reason." Remy took the box carefully. "Merci." He turned.
"Ain't ya gonna pay me, punk?" Creed growled. Logan's claws slid free. Remy fished in his pockets for a penny. He flipped it toward the large man. Creed ignored Logan. He caught the penny, then the Cajun's ponytail as he turned. He wrapped the hair around his wrist, reeling the young man in for a kiss. Then, he was gone.
"What the fuck was that?"
"A kiss. Like dis." Remy brushed his lips over Logan's.
"You know damned well what I meant, boy."
"Victor brought m' some t'ings that I need."
Logan growled. "You still fuckin' him then?"
Remy blinked. "Cher, I ain't. . . I . . . not since Tito died. Not even playin'."
"You kissed him."
"Kissin' don't mean shit t' him." Remy rolled his eyes. "I kiss most of m' friends. Y' ain't got a problem wit' m' kissin' Alice."
"Alice ain't the kind of girl to mess with. No kissin' yer exes. Didn't ya promise that to Cyke?"
"That was years ago, cher."
"Rems. . . Nevermind." Remy set the box in their suite. He looked down at Chris and Scott for a long moment. He smoothed Scott's hair back. His cell phone went off. Luckily, it was on vibrate. He flipped it open as he left the room.
"Hello?"
****
Jean tracked Remy down as soon as her sweep time was finished. He was in the library, curled up on Logan's lap with a thick sheaf of papers in his hands. He was explaining them to the assembled police officers.
"Non, non, non! Not a Satanist. A sorcerer. An' I don' care what the FBI did or didn' find! De Antiquary ain't some uncontrolled psycho!" Remy's eyes flashed. "He had Remy stolt as a chile 'cause of his eyes. Got no reason why he ain't gonna do the same t'ing if he can."
"Why?" Blake asked.
"Cuz of her eyes. He a collector." Remy ran a hand over his face. "If he done this, he ain't got no reason t' get a ransom f' her. He want her f' hisself." Remy suddenly paled. "Hope he don' mind Ray bein' a girl."
"Will he hurt her?"
"Remy t'inks he ain't gonna kill her, but he gonna hurt her. She ain't obedient enough f' him."
Logan raised a brow. "And yer obedient?" He snorted.
Remy folded his hands into his lap. "Yes, sir," he said sweetly. "Anyway, he got kids he done trained up. They wear collars like de one Chris drew f' us."
"Where did you get this information?" Blake's craggy face creased into a frown.
"Mon Pere. Mon Oncle. M' own mem'ries some."
"How does your family know so much about this?" Grahm asked.
"Dey ran him out of Nawlins when Jean-Luc adopted m'."
"Why didn't you call the police?" Kitty asked.
Remy couldn't help but laugh at the question. He hiccupped to a stop finally. "In Nawlins? Call de cops on a fait'ful contributer t' the retirement fund? A bothel owner? Oui, chere, dat'd work." Remy wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "De police." He shook his head.
Blake latched onto one phrase. "Brothel owner?"
Remy nodded. "The Velvet Ministry." He shifted so that Jean could join him on Logan's lap. Logan smirked at the assemblage. He could smell jealousy in the air.
"Can you give us a description?" Grahm asked.
"Do better'n that, me." Remy sifted through his papers. He handed them a surveillance photo and a sketch.
"Where did this come from?" Carter asked.
"I ain't revealin' m' sources. Just say we got a private tec on the homme."
"You've been monitoring this person, but you've never brought his activities to the notice of the authorities?" Blake's voice was sharp. Remy flinched back from the anger. Blake's shoulders dropped. "What more can you tell us?"
Remy shook his head. "Not much." He frowned. "M' family, dey got no reason t' upset t'ings so long as we get de petite back. I ain't one f' trials."
"Why?" Grahm asked.
"Believe in mercy, me. Court justice ain't real. Don' mind cops, but lawyers are so full of shit, it ain't t' be believed."
"How bad did you get burned in the divorce?" Scott asked, joining them.
"Keep tellin' y', cher, I ain't divorced." Remy put a hand up. "Dese papers got all I know. Go on an' find ma petite fillie." Scott dropped a kiss to Jean's hair. He snagged the papers from Remy's hands and glanced through them.
"How good's this info?"
"You'd bet on it."
Scott nodded. "Kitty, find this asshole for me."
"On it, Fearless."
Carter snickered into her sleeve.
"We'll get on it," Blake said.
"Come on, Josie, let's go hack Hoover."
"But I'm not on the system," Josie protested.
Kitty just sighed and led the way out of the room.
"Bobby back yet?" Scott asked.
"Warren wanted to take one last look around," Jean informed him.
"So they haven't killed each other yet? Darn. What's their ETA?"
"One hour."
"Rogue's got dinner ready?"
Remy coughed. "Not yet she don't."
"I thought you were over that."
"Well, we still friends, Scotty. Besides, y' really want these folks eatin' her food? An' the chilen? That's just cruelty."
"Then go cook. Sam, set the table in the main dining room."
"Yes, sir. Come on Paige." Paige rolled her eyes, but followed her brother out of the room.
Remy stuck his tongue out at Scott. He dodged the playful swat to his head. "Jeannie, y' gonna help y' po' boy in de kitchen, oui?"
"No. That's why Rogue's on duty. She can do the prep work."
He sighed, putting a melodramatic hand to his forehead. "Fine, condemn m' t' listenin' t' her bitch 'bout Joey."
"You're a big boy, you can handle it."
"I'll help ya, Darlin'."
"Merci, cher. See? He loves m'."
"No, he doesn't," Scott contradicted. "He just wants a beer and a smoke."
Remy flicked Scott off.
"Later."
****
Rachel felt sick. Her stomach was roiling storm. The back of her throat was coated with a cloying scent. Her head throbbed. "Hello, child," a papery voice said. She looked up at a sharply drawn and angled face. She promptly threw up on his feet. She heard a soft snicker from behind her. "You, boy, clean this up. You, get her cleaned up and presentable. Welcome home, child."
"This isn't home," Rachel stated. Her red eyes flashed.
"Of course it is. We'll talk once you're presentable."
****
Logan settled at the kitchen table with a beer and the paper. "All right, sugah," Rogue said, "where do I start?"
"Y' get t' chop those onions up, then open up the beans and drain 'em." Remy started browning the hamburger. "Cher, make y'self useful an' get m' some more soy-shit from the fridge."
Logan grumbled. He delivered the packages of tofu with a sneer. He wiped his fingers off on his jeans. He settled his chin on Remy's shoulder. "We'll get her back, Darlin'. Don't you worry."
"I know, cher, but worryin's in my nature."
Rogue watched with raised brows. "Jeeze, Wolvie, I ain't made a move on him since the kids were born," she said as Logan kissed his youngest lover.
"Just a reminder." Logan's grin was just a little too full of teeth.
"Don' be a pain in de ass, Logan."
"Thought ya liked it, Darlin'."
"Merde. Don't pout." Logan tugged at Remy's ponytail. "He nine kinds of trouble, Roguie. Don't know why I put up wit' it."
"Must be love. Where do you want these onions?"
"Toss 'em in with the meat here. Turn on that pot on the corner. Logan?"
"Just waitin' on orders."
"We need extra veggies. Go find out if'n any of our guests got food allergies."
Logan chomped down on his cigar and saluted with two fingers. Rogue waited until the Canadian had gone out of the room until she spoke again. "How you holdin' up?" Her hand hovered just over his shoulder.
"I'm doin'. I'll be fine soon as we find de petite and get rid of the cops."
"I. . . I felt you earlier, sugah."
"Desole, chere. But. . . y' ain't a spook."
"I think it's because of. . . the incident." She looked away. Her hand fell to the dial and turned up the flame under the water. "I feel ya sometimes. Only when you're in trouble. Never anythin' like today."
"Lost control me. Ever since Henri messed wit' the chip my control been slippin'. He ain't put me back t' before, but he's workin' on Scotty. Figures he's learnin' t' be sneaky and underhanded now."
"Does it count if you *know* he's trying to sneak behind your back?"
"Better'n not'in'. Got to take what y' can get sometimes. Henri ain't got the temperament t' be sneaky."
"Ain't that the truth. But honestly, sugah, are you doin' okay?"
"Oui, chere, Remy's bien. Honest."
"I'll hold ya to that, Swamp Rat."
He smiled at her. "Go get the bread dough out of the fridge and put it into the pan."
"Cornbread?"
"Spoonbread t'night. Been missin' Tante's cookin'."
"Have you called her?" Scott asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Remy rolled his eyes. "Been missin' her cookin' not the chidin'."
Scott grinned.
"Y' better now, cher?"
"Yeah. Heavy drugs and a lie down always helps."
"How heavy?" Carter asked. She'd followed her nose to the kitchen, in hopes of talking to the youngest of the, um, poly-amorous group.
"I have a 'script for Demerol." Scott shrugged. "Once about every ten years or so, Hank shoots me up and I'm fine a few hours later."
"Except for the regular headaches that just turn him into a bitch," Rouge informed the detective. "So what can we do for ya, sugah?" she asked.
"I had a few more questions for Mr. LeBeau."
"Remy. Just makes life easier. Y' go callin' me Mr. LeBeau, ain't no one gonna know who y'r talkin' about. Besides, it's LeBeau-Summers now." Rogue poked him in the back with a roll of her eyes.
"Remy, then." Carter smiled. "Shall we take this someplace more private?"
Remy looked at the pots. He shook his head. "Shoo, girl, I'll take care of this."
"Just call if you need me, Swamp Rat."
Remy nodded. Scott settled at the table, not even trying to pretend that he wasn't going to listen in. Carter frowned at him. Remy took his favorite perch on the counter. "Coffee?" he offered.
"No, thanks."
"What y' need t' know then? Why ain't y' lookin' f' m' girl?"
"We're verifying the information you gave us, but we can't do anything more aggressive until we managed to get something more solid than a rumor."
'Ain't rumors." Remy shook his head. "Tell me what y' want den."
"How do you know this man?"
Remy shivered. He checked the closest pot, more for something to do than necessity. "He had m' stolt. Least ways, that's what they tol' m' later. I was un bebe at the time. I spent five years wit' him. I ran away t' the streets after that."
TBC