Charles Francis Xavier was tired. Nothing seemed to be necessary. There were no emergencies. There was nothing to distract him. There was no e-mail to return, no phone calls to answer. He was bored. He looked out onto the grounds from his office window. The sun was gleaming, but he knew it was a cold light. The trees had lost most of their leaves and fingers of bare branches reached into the clouds. Scott and Logan were trying to convince Jean to take a trek in the woods with them. She was resisting. One hand was on her hip as she gestured. She looked over her shoulder at the Mansion. The men shook their heads in denial. Scott took one hand and Logan took the other and they dragged her along. That was telling, if she hadn't wanted to go she would have used her TK and no one would have been able to move her.
By the lake, Bishop and Storm were enjoying a picnic and feeding the ducks that hadn't moved on for the season. The checkered tablecloth they were sitting on brought back bittersweet memories of boyhood fantasy. But so much had happened since then. There would be no picnics by the lakes. No warm romances and laughing. He and Eric were talking, but there was a lot of pain to overcome. It wasn't easy to forget. And the arguments were as bad they had ever been, but at least Eric wasn't wearing the damn bucket anymore. They were trying again.
Damn. Now he was being self-pitying. At least he had Eric, even if there wasn't any romance left in the relationship. They knew each other too well. Far too well. Well, he wasn't the only one with that problem. He wasn't the only one that watched Jean and her boys jealous of the fact that there was so much left to explore.
Oh, look Jubilee and Sam were walking around the lake. How fucking sickeningly sweet, Charles thought to himself. He sighed. He needed a life. He needed Lilandra or Eric. Actually, he'd even settle for an old friend. Or a new one. Someone that didn't think of him as Professor X. His eyes drifted to the picture on his desk. His old unit. They were all gone now. None of them had escaped unscathed from the jungle.
Little Mickey, on communications, had taken his own life after loosing his sight and one arm in Korea. James, had died with a bullet through his eye. Sambo had been the one to drag Charles out of the puddles when he'd gone down. He could still feel the agony that had left him with scars on more than his body. Sambo, his fellow scout. A born spy. The first Thief he'd ever met. The man who'd kept him conscious with the fairy tales of his youth. Names of historic Thieves. Of heists that made history. Of winning wars and fighting to stay alive in spite of all odds. Sambo had been captured in Russia during the Cold War. No one had been able to find him. Charles had felt him die. He'd been keeping him alive with the stories he could remember.
Sarge. Sgt. Patrick Tucker. The first man that Charles had admired. The man that had taught him to fight and driven him with a dream of peace and made him love democracy. The man had made him willing to die for the dream of the first Americans. Tucker had died happily in bed with his wife as a general. And there was Slim. It had taken awhile to get used to hearing Scott referred to as Slim without seeing another man in his place. He realized now that he'd been holding Scott up to that image. To make him into everything he had ever wanted to be as a soldier. Loyal, dogged, honest, strong, fierce in battle, and sharp at every moment. Slim Jackson. That was the man's name. He had made it out of the war with only scrapnel in his skin. The mutant he'd met before Eric. The man with a family that hated him for his enhanced senses. A man who had found himself a new family and worked to make himself invaluable. Perhaps that had been unfair, but Charles had never been a father. No matter what his charges thought of him.
He was just a man. An old man now. Weary body and soul. No one seemed to remember that this was a war. That there were villains to fight that were just as dangerous as the red tide that men had lost their lives to holding back. Xavier slammed the picture down and left his office. He needed air.
Unseen, gloved hands picked up the shattered frame and rescued the picture, carefully.
*****
Charles went to the Danger Room. He activated his private program and locked out everyone from the room and control room as he entered it.
*****
The bar was small, dingy and filled with smoke. Charles lit up a cigarette himself. It was the one of the vices that no one knew of. Not even Hank, appointed savior of all lungs. There were uses to having renegade members of the team that didn't regard health warnings. The music came from a battered old radio that crackled and hissed with static.
"What can I getcha, Chuckles?" Paulie, the barman, asked.
"Whiskey." He grinned and poured the drink.
"Wanna talk about it?" There was a low level hum of voices in the background. And a group of men playing cards at one of the three scarred tables.
"I guess. I lost a girl, Paulie."
"Damn, that's rough, what happened?"
"She fell for another man. One that was there for her when the world fell apart. I couldn't be there."
"What's he like?"
"A prig. No, he's not really. He just looks cold on the surface of things. He's got a flashpoint temper though." Chuck shook his head. "He's young. Brash. Or, he was when they met. He's older now. He's got more going on in his head. Reminds me of someone I used to know. I don't know why I even wonder at it. I knew she'd never see me like that. I'm too much older."
"Aw, cut the crap, Chuck, you know you're not that old. You just think you are."
"I'm not even whole."
"Your legs? Plenty of guys with problems. You could have changed her mind."
"Maybe, but…" He sipped his whisky. Then, knocked it back. "Another." Paulie provided it. "He's like a son to me. I want him to be happy too."
"You like the kid." Paulie shrugged. "Don't mean you gotta let him win. Why'd you let her go?"
"She needed him. I had other responsibilities. I've got a unit." The barman polished a glass with a rag that looked like it had seen better days.
"Ah, the war."
"The dream."
*****
The glass and frame were carefully disposed of and the picture was tucked away in a pocket. A quick trip to the craft store. The purple heart medal followed it.
*****
If Remy paced past her one more time Betsy was going to kill him. Slowly, painfully, cut him into strips… and sell tickets. She knew that there were more than enough people willing to pay for them. Especially after the whole internet tapes debacle. She smiled sweetly at him. He stopped and looked at her. "Remy bot'erin' y', chere?" he asked pleasently.
"Yes."
"Sorry. Remy just go outside, non?"
"I think that would be a very good idea," she growled.
*****
Storm was ready to scream. Bishop was getting nervous. But that wasn't what was bothering her. No, the cause of aggrivation for both Bishop and herself was curled up on the rocks staring at them. He hadn't moved. Hadn't spoke. Hadn't done anything but sit and stare at them as they ate lunch. In her most imperious voice she said, "Is there something we can help you with, Bobby?"
"Me? No, of course not," the human statue told them. "Nothing at all. Please. Keep eating." Storm narrowed her eyes. In the sky a small raincloud gathered over the lake.
"I believe we are finished. Shall we go in, Bishop."
"Certainly." Bishop packed up the leftovers and folded the blanket quickly. They reached the mansion before the rain poured down, directly on Drake's head.
*****
From under the shadows of the eaves, Remy watched, detached, as Bobby screeched up an away from the rocks. Warren circled around the grounds like a giant hunting bird. Rogue was carefully braiding a ribbon into her hair. He went to assist with the activity and she glared at him until her retreated. Feeling very off kilter he stalked back into the house and started wandering through it again. He steered clear of Betsy and everyone else didn't seem to care. He wandered past the Danger Room and knew it was in use. But, a locked Control Room was nothing but a challenge to a world class thief. Remy settled down to watch and listen.
*****
Charles was very close to being completely drunk. "Y' see, Paulie, it's like this. The boy I wuz tellin' y' about? Tha one tha' took way m' girl? He's a cute one too. Nice ass. Tight. An' so sweet to an ole man. Took good care o' me befo' the odders came 'ere. I watch 'im growin' up. I didn' wan' him to, but he did. An' sometime he stopped bein' the boy I knew an' became a man. Stole 'er heart an' mine. He doesn' know it." Paulie looked at the man sympathetically.
"Think you've had enough, Chuck. Time to call it a night." Charles Xavier sighed.
"En' program." The computer shut off and Remy slipped out of the control room. He managed to be "passing by" in time to help the professor to his room. He helped him into bed. "Sid down, Kiddo." Remy blinked. He perched on the edge of the bed.
"Y' okay, Professeur?"
"Nope. Wanna talk." He tapped his head. "Can' talk to Jeannie or 'Lizabeth right now. They gossip. Lemme in." Remy blinked and opened a sliver of his shields. //That's better.//
//How come y' don' sound drunk in y' t'oughts?//
//The wonders of telepathy. The physiological doesn't get in the way of the thought process. Now, where was I. Oh, yes, I want to talk.//
//Okay.//
//And you will not tell anyone what I tell you.//
//D'accord, Professeur.// Remy settled more firmly onto the bed.
//Do you know what it's like to never be able to have what you want?//
//Oui. A bit.//
//I want to be just Charles for once. I don't want them looking up at their father. I want to be able to walk. I want to be able to sleep without having visions of mutants half my age looking delectably fuckable.// Remy blinked. //I can hardly sleep with all the ruckus that Jean and her boys get up to. I don’t know where they find the energy anymore. And they're doing it again right now. //
A moment later, Remy's mind was swimming with images. The heat surrounding Jean felt like a furnace. The leaves they were laying in were dry and crackled when any one of them moved. It didn't matter, it was just one more sound mixed in with Logan's low rumble and the breathless honeyed words pouring out of Scott's mouth directly into her ear and Logan's. Caught between the two hard muscled bodies she squirmed.
She had never felt quite so full and neither of them would let her move. She was starting to go insane. Logan had one hand on the back of Scott's head now, pulling him down into a long kiss. Jean begged and sobbed out her frustration and eventually Scott kissed her instead. She felt Logan swell inside of her. They had purposefully cut out the link. This was a purely physical exploration. The sensations built slowly. The scent of Scott's hair and aftershave mingled with the musk of Logan's skin. Jean closed her eyes. Logan's body supported all three of them. His thick hair over hard muscle made an interesting contrast to the smoothness of Scott's skin. Jean's fingers explored the soft thigh beneath her hand and the taut muscles of her other husband's back.
Filled beyond capacity Jean swore something had to give as they gently rocked towards a climax. Scott's penis nearly touched Logan's through the slender wall of skin between them. Jean moaned and bit her lip as the pace sped up. One of Logan's hands slid over Scott's ass as the other stoked through Jean's hair possessively. As Jean began to tremble he bit her shoulder. She climaxed squeezing both of them within her body until they came explosively. They lay in the warm afterglow, cushioned by leaves, Jean's yell still ringing in the air.
Remy rubbed at his temples. Maybe Rogue would be able to look past her PMS for that one. //You see? I can't get any rest. If I disconnect from the light contact with Jean's mind, I will have no warning if the Phoenix force ever starts to get out of hand again. If I do keep contact, I'm up half the night with a hard-on. I tell you, when I was in the Army there wasn't anything like this to worry about. Oh, every night you'd hear someone jerking off, but it was a private affair. You kept your nose out of it. You didn't go broadcasting it to everyone and no one mentioned it in the light of day. Sarge wasn't creeping off to boink some girl in the middle of a war. No, he was there, yelling at us.//
//In sexual frustration, non?//
A warm mental laughter. //Probably got his rocks off from yelling. They were good men, Remy and they're forgotten. All of them. Just like Eric's family was forgotten. Like the X-men will be forgotten if nothing changes. If everything remains the same. How many children even know of the Korean War these days? Jubilee doesn't know it as anything more than a passage in a history book that she had to memorize. She doesn't understand that it was real.
//They're so young, Gambit. It frightens me. I don't want to seem them touched by this war. I want them to have children. I want them to have a family. I want a lot of things. It just seems so useless. The red-tide I fought against destroyed itself. Is the dream really worth destroying you all?//
//Dat's our choice, Charles. Ours. You can' take or give any of dis to us.//
//Scott had no choice.//
//Remy don' have a choice 'bout being in de Guild eit'er. Or dat he gonna have t' take it over. But what he do during dis time. Dat be his choice. Scott always gonna be y' boy. But he walked away once. He know dat he can leave here. Dat y' won' stop him. But he find happiness here. And Jeannie and Logan too. Stormy find a family. An' Bishop find a purpose to live. Rogue find out dat she not completely insane. And even Warren find acceptance here dat he don' get anywhere else. Dis may be a war, but we choose t' fight in it. Don' forget dat. Even chilen have deir own minds. //
//If you all die in the service of a dream of peace…//
//Den de Dream is still wort' pursuing. When de X-men go out t' fight, it because we believe what we doin' is right. If we follow M. Eric t' his paradise in de sky, dat's because we feel his dream be right. But we all have t' make a stand someday. All o' us. Y' know dat. Y' been a soldier. Before y' be a doctor, or a teacher, y' a soldier. Y' were willin' t' die f' y' country. Let us be willin' t' die f' our Dream.//
Charles Xavier smiled then. //Remy, tell me a story.//
//Quoi?//
//A story. A Thieve's story.// Remy smiled back at him. He started to speak.
"Once upon a time, in a kingdom not dat far away…"
*****
Xavier groaned as he opened his eyes. There was a cup of coffee hovering near him and he took it gratefully, along with the asprin. Jean grinned at him. "I told you not to stay up late with Gambit, but you never listen to me."
"Shut up, Jean." She laughed.
"Does someone have a hangover?" she asked sweetly.
"If someone doesn't shut her mouth, she's going to have a matching headache," he threatened lightly. Wisely, the telepath shut up. She helped him out of bed and into his chair. The rest of the morning went fairly smoothly. Breakfast was the usual compliment of bickering and eating. Gambit was still in bed, and Charles decided that that was not fair. He roused the young mutant by hammering on his shields. The young man rubbed his eyes as he stumbled into the kitchen for some coffee. He looked at the professor.
"I hate you," he said carefully, then settled down to eat. Rogue raised a brow. She wanted to know what was going on, but that would mean she was talking to him, and she wasn't prepared to do that yet. Gambit just rolled his eyes at her. It was too early in the morning for romantic maneuvering.
"You shouldn't stay up so late," Jean chided. She received twin glares of death from the professor and Gambit. Oh, that wasn't good. It appeared they were going to work together against her. "If you would both go to bed at a reasonable time, then there wouldn't be this reluctance to face the morning." Dead silence. Bad sign, must have made a mis-step. No, she was just being completely ignored.
"Betsy, were you able to find that reference you were looking for the other day?" Xavier asked plesantly.
"Yes, thank you. More pancakes?"
"No, thank you."
"Is dat strawberry syrup?"
"Yes," Scott answered.
*****
Xavier was laughing inside. He was receiving the continual critique from the unfortunate X-man who had been dragged shopping. //Oh, merde, not de blue. Don' ask me 'bout de blue. I dink she likes it. Makes her look like a parade balloon…. No, please, anything but the make-up counters. Remy like t' shop, but not f' dat!…. No, can't smell anything, the CK has ruined my nose. Gag. Yech. And people pay money f' dis!… Shoes, what is dis, torture Gambit day?…. I be dinkin' I deserve a raise. Hazardous duty pay, non?…. Oh, dose look nice. Too bad she gon' t' cover dem up wit' pants anyways. Why can't de girl wear a skirt f' once? Make de flyin' much more interestin'…. Stop laughin' at me, chere. I know where y' sleep…. Next time, Remy convince dem t' take y'…. Y' need t' get out o' de house more.//
//Gambit, I do not believe…//
//Ooooh… de art store. Please, please, come on!… Why won' dey ever be nice t' dis po' boy?//
//I think it may have something to do with interfering in their love life.//
//Aw, but dat usually work out so well… Yes! Dey gonna give Remy a break.//
//Why do you do that?//
//What?//
//Refer to yourself in the third person.//
//F' kicks…. What d' y' dink? Dey gonna let me actually look 'r… 'course not… Don' matter what I ask o' dem, dey gonna drag me out o' here. Poitr dey'd let stay. Jus' because Remy don' indulge often, dey dink he don' care 'bout… Y' laughing at me?//
//Oui.//
//Bastard.//
//I didn't know you were interested in art.//
//Planned on majoring in it. Den Exeter found me in de library lookin' up somet'ing dat no one outside o' his department ever did. Next ding I know, I be in de Physics lab. Still tryin' t' figure dat one out.//
//He's a minor telepath. He has the ethics of a politician. That's why the two of you get along.//
//Did y' just call Remy a politician? Dat's low, real low. Hmmm… dis be de wrong color green. I been dere. It don' look like dat. It need t' be darker… Betsy's being a bitch.//
//Oh, was that for me or for her?//
//Depends on whether she's smart enough t' use y' link t' get past m' shields.//
//Doubtful.//
//Meow.//
//I've been taking lessons. Do bring them home before dinner.//
//Bring dem home? Moi? Remy be de one dragged inta dis. Jeannie got de keys. Y' talk t' her.//
//I might just do that.//
*****
"Remy, are you talking to the professor again?"
"Chere?"
"Don't pull the innocent act with me. I know you too well."
"Betsy, y' wound me."
"Not yet I don't."
"Dat a promise?" Remy purred. Rogue glared at him. Didn't matter to him. She was in a mood anyway.
"Ignore him, Betsy," Jean intervened. "He's in a mood because I wouldn't let him heist the jewelry store."
"Dat's no' fair, Jeannie." Remy pouted and Rogue couldn't help but react. She rallied to his defense.
"He was just planning it. That doesn't mean he was going to do anything." She took his arm. He patted her hand comfortingly. Rogue shot Betsy a grin.
"Are you really trying to defend this rebrobate?" the ninja asked.
"Hey!" Remy snapped. He was ignored.
*****
Xavier was bored. Again. Remy's chattering about the shopping trip had been silenced by a stern command from Jean who didn't want him spilling the beans about her Christmas shopping. There was nothing to do. No reports to study. No situations to investigate. Scott and Logan weren't even doing anything interesting to eavesdrop on. He decided to go to his room and read a bit. As he left, his eye was caught by the date. Vetran's Day, it figured. He was being ignored, just like the holiday.
There was a package on his bed. He opened the card. It read simply: "Thank you." He opened the present. The picture and his purple heart were neatly mounted in a shadow box. He smiled.