Part 11

It was dark when he ventured outside for a jog, though that wasn・t saying much since winter in Salem Center meant it got dark about 4:30pm. He had been amazed to find, when he finally woke up, that he had only been gone into his mind for about an hour. Nobody had even realized his dilemma. If he was lucky, maybe even Jean had missed the ripples on the psionic plane. He was still new to all this mind stuff・he had no idea what was detectable to a telepath.

The cold air ripped through his lungs as he ran through the trails. He could still feel the raspiness left over from his pneumonia, the ragged edges. It had been months since Antarctica, and he still wasn・t completely recovered. Maybe he never would be. Maybe he was scarred for life.

It wouldn・t be the first time.

There was a lot for him to think about, too much actually, and that was exactly why he was out here jogging under the rising moon. His mind was tired, and this was the best way for him to clear it completely of any thought except for the rhythm of his breathing and the quiet thumping of his steps.

He stretched his legs into a longer stride, speeding up slightly and remembering his training when he was a teenager learning to be a thief. Jean Luc had always been a hard worker and had been sure to teach his son the same ethic. It hadn・t been until he was about 12 that Jean Luc adopted him and by 13 he had already undergone vigorous acrobatic training, giving him his trademark fighting style that was distinguished by summersaults, flips, and flying kicks. When he was only 15 he was running a four-mile obstacle course with weights on each arm and leg.

He・d hated it at first, complaining constantly, but after a while the complaints were motivated more out of tradition that actual annoyance. If living on the streets had taught him anything, it had been that laziness would get you killed and every new skill you could gain would increase your chances at life. As much as he would work at putting on the façade of nonchalance, he never once allowed himself to slack off on a job.

Well, maybe once or twice. He remembered the time he decided to switch the normal weights with Styrofoam look-a-likes. It had all gone well and he had had quite a pleasurable and blissfully easy run when his father decided to join him for the last mile. Needless to say, close up, and especially to a thief・s eye, the Styrofoam didn・t hold up well. He・d ended up running an extra two miles that day with double the normal weights.

A wind hit him and Remy squinted against it, pushing harder with the muscles in his legs. He could feel the lactic acid building up, burning against the work, but he ignored it. He still had a long way to go before he was back in the shape he had once been in, and until he was there, he would keep pushing. The wind passed, and he eased back into a steady stride.

The lake was growing closer, peacefully reflecting moonshine in the night. If it hadn・t been so cold he might have gone for a late night swim, but as it was, a thin film of treacherous ice covered the water. The lights were off in the boathouse and Remy figured that Scott and Jean must be spending the evening at the mansion. He remembered Scott telling him earlier in the day about their plans to use Cerebro to search for the Shadow King tonight. Remy knew he was doing it only to appease Betsy, and perhaps for his own curiosity. There were too many other problems for the X-Men to worry about to make it necessary to search for villains to fight. Especially, when those villains didn・t appear to be presently active. It also wasn・t likely that Cerebro would find anything, not unless Shadow King was real close. The unit the team had borrowed from Muir Island to replace the one stolen by Bastion didn・t have the range that the X-Men once had the luxury of using. But then, they had been surprised once when they had found Sinister. Of course, he・d intended for them to find him.

Maybe Remy would stop in later and see how the search was going. But right now, he needed some time alone.

"You・re never alone, you know."

He almost tripped in reaction to the voice that had suddenly popped into his head. "What?" he questioned aloud.

"You heard me."

It took him a moment to recognize the speaker as the Green Ghost Lady. She・d never spoken in his mind like this before, not while he was conscious. It was a very strange and unnerving feeling, like somebody had pushed his own mind over to make the needed space for another. Before he hadn・t noticed her presence really interfering with his own, but now・ Was this how it felt for Rogue when she absorbed another personality and it threatened to overthrow her own?

"What are y・ doing?" he tried to shove her over some, mentally.

She pushed back. "I・m making sure you don・t make any mistakes."

He was still running, but had slowed some. "Oh, now it makes sense." He was getting very tired of her taking over parts of his body and his sarcasm was evidence of that.

"It should. From this high up on the surface of your mind I can make sure you don・t do anything stupid."

"I t・ink I got a headache."

"You didn・t have one before?"

"Oui, but it just got a whole lotta worse." He reached up to rub his offending temples and ran into an overhanging branch he didn・t see. It almost knocked him over and he had to stagger to keep his balance. The branch had hit him in the shoulder and he stopped, rubbing it angrily. The wind blew gently, chilling his hand and rustling the leaves of the trees around him. Déjà vu. These trails seemed bent on knocking him over whenever they got the chance.

"T・anks for de warning, cherie. I t・ought you were here t・ make sure I don・t do anyt・ing stupid."

"I・ll amend that statement. I・m here to make sure you don・t do anything stupid that will hurt others. You are welcome to hurt yourself all you want." She sounded suspiciously smug.

He scowled at the empty air in front of him. "I appreciate de freedom y・ give me." Sarcasm was becoming quite popular for him lately.

He felt her smile in his mind, an expression followed by a parade of chills running up and down the hairs on his back. That was perhaps the spookiest thing she had done yet. You・re not supposed to feel someone smile.

Rolling his shoulder to ward off the pain inflicted by the branch, he began to move again. "We never agreed to this," he said quietly between breaths.

"I said I would do everything in my power to make sure the future doesn・t happen."

Remy scowled, not sure what he could really do to change the situation. He stared at the little puffs of smoke his breath made in the air. "You know cherie, y・ really got some issues with invading ot・er people・s space."

"And you tend to hurt the people you love. Everyone has their faults."

Ouch. That was vicious. He decided that he was done talking to little voices in his head for now. Maybe if he just ignored her, she would go away.

He heard her laugh malevolently in response.

The trail was looping around now, bringing him back toward the mansion. He could feel the diffusion of emotions growing closer, a central hub, alive and full of energy that he could sense on multiple levels. Now he was monitoring the overhangs ahead of him with his spatial sense, feeling around with invisible hands to avoid further pain at the expense of distraction. It was like the space all around him existed in panoramic inside his mind, trees swaying gently, dirt spraying up under his feet. He had to admit; it felt good, the release of his powers, of contained energy, which was exactly the reason he rarely let himself use multiple powers so freely like this. It felt too good, too tempting to just relax and enjoy his generating and conducting abilities・ there was always that fear in the back of his mind that he would go too far, that permanent still-life of the Seattle Theater etched in his memory. Then it had been painful, as it had been in Sinister・s laboratory when he blew it up, but that didn・t comfort him much. There was a very fine threshold between pleasure and pain, as contrasting as they might appear to be.

She was laughing at him again. "Philosophical, aren・t we?"

He didn・t reply. Instead he stared harder at his surrounding, narrowing the use of his spatial sense. Some of the perception of the trails around him went dim. The trees were rough and damp from the moist winter weather of the northeast, and bare. Something caught his eye as he passed the mottled bark of one and he stopped suddenly to take a closer look. Three claw marks, deep and each separated by about a knuckle・s width, gouged the wood. Remy examined them carefully, knowing that they could be only Wolverine・s and trying to ascertain the emotion behind them. But, if the marks had any story to tell, they didn・t tell it to him.

He ran on, realizing that it had been a day or two since he・d even seen Wolverine. It really wasn・t that odd, since, like himself, Wolverine could easily be classified a wanderer.

Remy wondered if there was beer wherever Wolverine was now. He could sure use one.

There was a flare-up in his spatial sense, above him and relatively close. His empathic ability told him it was friendly and he knew who she was before she even called out his name.

"Hey Rougie," he greeted, slowing to a stop as she landed beside him. He started walking to keep from slowing his heart rate too quickly and she fell into step beside him.

He noticed she was in uniform and decided that he was very thankful to the man (it had to have been a man) who had invented spandex.

"Hey Remy," she paused, collecting her next sentence. "Ah heard ya yappin・ as Ah was approachin・ a little bit ago. Who were yah talkin・ to?" She eyed him, generally curious and partly daring him to tell her the truth. He hated when she did that, but there wasn・t a time he could remember when she did fully and completely trust him. Except maybe once・ the moment before the Crystal Wave hit and they kissed for the first time・

"Not・ing to worry y・self over. Jus・ de little voices in my head."

She eyed him for a moment, and then either decided that she believed him or that it wasn・t worth pursuing at the moment. Probably the latter. He refused to let himself use his empathy to find out. "Sounds like a personal problem," she said, some annoyance seeping through.

"It is."

He regretted the words the moment after they left his overactive lips. "Sorry, mah cherie. Old habit," he added, hoping to soften the reflexive reply.

She just shrugged and shook her head, auburn and ivory waves swaying gently. "Whatever, Rem." She wasn・t in the mood to fight, or else he knew she wouldn・t have let it go that easily, which meant, something more important must be on her mind.

He watched her for a moment, trying to read the expression that the moonshine danced over and played with. She seemed to be made of stone, pale and perfectly carved and he wondered how his own face must look in this light, whether his eyes were frightening against such a wan white cast over by the night sky. Diablo Blanc. The words rang in his head so that he wasn・t sure if he had mentally whispered them or the being living amongst his inner thoughts had.

"What・s wrong?" he asked her.

"Ah came out here ta bring ya back to the mansion. Scott・s holdin・ a meeting. There are some・ things going on in the city."

Remy raised his eyebrows. "T・ings?"

Rogue turned her emerald eyes on him. "Logan just got back from there. It・s pretty bad. Murder up to insane amounts, unnatural amounts of violence, road rage, all in one isolated area. It・s all over the news. We think its Shadow King."

"An・ de search wit・ Cerebro? Did you try to locate him?"

"That was the first thing we did, as soon as Logan called the mansion and told us to turn on the news, and as soon as we started hearing the reports. Nothing. Jean says its like there is a big static spot sittin・ bird・s eye right over the city. She can・t get through it on the astral plane."

He nodded, the only reaction he really could give. They were X-Men, supposedly used to this stuff, keeping their composure no matter what happened. He didn・t know about the rest of them, but he sure had never gotten the knack of getting used to it. But, he could pretend.

Just like he knew Rogue was pretending, else they would have been in the process of a full-out fight about those voices from earlier by now.

"Fighting over me? How sweet."

Shut up, he thought angrily. She did that mental smile thing again and he had a hard time keeping his reaction off his face.

"Den I guess we better get back as soon as we can." Remy started running again, to speed their progress, trusting that Rogue would be able to keep up.

She did more that that. Feeling her fly up behind him, her gloved hands and sleeved arms came around his chest, holding him tightly. His feet left the ground and he relaxed them, sinking his body into her embrace.

"Flyin・ is fastah," she said unnecessarily as they rose above the trees. He reached up and covered her hands with his own and watched the ground fall from under him. The wind felt cold but was, for once, more like caressing fingers than stabbing knives. They weren・t that high, not needing to go very far, but it was still exhilarating. The trees disappeared and then they were sliding over the yellowed lawn, the green sucked away by the chill. The mansion door grew before them, the portal into the headquarters of what the world would consider one of the most dangerous mutant terrorist groups in existence.

Just a piece of wood carved in an ornate fashion befitting a mansion. Funny it could mean so much in some ways.

They came to the ground just in front of the steps, landing so gently that he could almost believe he had never left the contact of the earth. Her arms stayed around him for just a moment more than necessary before she pulled them away.

"She dies too you know. All of them do." The voice was contemplative this time, and he thought that maybe the Green Ghost was talking to herself rather than him.

"No, I・m talking to you too. Remember what・s at stake."

How can I forget? ・Specially wit・ you remindin・ me alla time, he thought back.

His mind-mate didn・t reply.

"Thank you fah riding the Rogue express. Ya・ll come back now."

He turned to see Rogue half-smile in the halo cast by the mansion lights. She looked a little more real here, a little more lifelike. "An・ what if I never leave?" He smirked slightly. They needed to have some fun, especially in times like these. It was the only thing that would keep them sane.

She tossed her hair out of her face. "Well that wouldn・t be fair ta all the other customers, now would it?"

He gave her his best hurt expression. "An・ here I was, thinkin・ I was de only one."

"Don・t flatter yourself, sugah, it might go to yah head." She grinned at her own joke and he chuckled softly.

But then the amusement died and the door of the mansion stared down at them, beckoningly. A knowing look was passed and they both turned to climb the stairs, Remy in the lead. He heard Rogue cough behind him, sounding very much like she had a cold.

"You okay, cherie?" he threw over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I・m fine," she answered.

It occurred to him that he didn・t remember Rogue ever being sick before. It was strange that she would be now. Maybe it was just something in the air he decided, to dismiss the thought quickly and satisfy his question without considering it further. Because there was no more time to consider.

In front of him the heavy mansion door was opening.

******

They were sitting around the large metal table of the war room, the whole team, fully assembled and in costume except for him. Apparently, they had been alerted to the situation some time ago. He wondered why he had been the last to find out.

A few heads turned to watch him as he and Rogue entered, following Storm, who had led them in, briefing Remy on the lift ride down.

The heads soon returned their attention to the central point of interest in the room: a large TV screen that made up almost a full wall. It had been a fairly recent addition to the mansion, the latest attempt to rebuild what Bastion had taken. Six different channels were playing at once, each on its own equally partitioned space and all showing pictures of street brawls, multiple car pile-ups and other acts of violence dictated by animated, perfectly groomed reporters in pressed blazers. Closed captioned words ran across the bottom of each screen, but the audio was one voice reporting the tragedy: Trish Tilby.

Remy took the middle of three empty seats, Rogue sitting in the one on his left, Storm on his right. Across the steely table was a disheveled looking Wolverine. Of course, the Canadian always looked a bit on the messy, scruffy side, but now he was looking particularly so. According to Storm, he had just come back from the city, and though he hadn・t been in the location where the enigma of violence was occurring, it had taken a lot to just get home through all the panic that was currently clogging the roads.

"This is Trish Tilby reporting from Cooper Square a few blocks away from the main concentration of violence." Remy looked up at the wide screen to see the reporter screaming into a microphone to be heard over the sirens and yelling all around her. "There has been no explanation as of now to the cause of this strange phenomenon and police are not answering our questions except to say that they have everything under control. Again, if you are just tuning in, there has been an isolated "bubble of crime" as it has become nicknamed, occurring in the vicinity of Greenwich Village. There have been reports of murders, fights, raiding, all unconfirmed. Police are not letting us into the area and there has been no word as to what started all of this・"

The sound cut off, replaced by white, black boxed words that skipped across the screen in spurts of energy. Scott stood, putting down the remote control and Remy could feel the attention of the room focussing on the team leader. A soft voice whispered across the surface of his mind, feeling more like a shiver than sound, "It・s happening・" And then his ghost was silent.

"Now that we・re all here, we can discuss our plan of action." The red visor fell on each of them in turn as he spoke. "We・ve obviously got a very hostile situation that needs to be neutralized as quickly as possible. But that・s pretty much all we know for sure." He paused momentarily for effect.

"What we suspect is that Shadow King is involved. His name has just been coming up too much lately for it to be coincidence. Besides Betsy・s recent concerns, this type of unexplained violence goes along perfectly with what we know of him. And according to Jean, there is a spot over New York that is blocked from her on the astral plane. Only a psychic would be capable of something like that and Shadow King is a psychic.

"So far, that・s all the info we・ve got. Would anybody like to add?" The ruby quartz scoped the room.

"Yeah." Eyes went to Wolverine. He waited for them all to get there and then: "The streets are a mess right now close to Greenwich so we ain・t goin・ to be able to get anywhere from the ground. I don・t think that a bunch of mutants in tight spandex are going to calm anybody・s nerves right now. We・re liable to start a riot. Meaning, we・re going to have to fly in."

"And we ain・t got the Blackbird since Bastion came so we・re going ta have ta do it the old fashion way," Rogue finished, swiveling gently back and forth in her chair.

"Unless Hank・s found a way to make us sprout wings," came the gruff Canadian reply.

Scott nodded. "Alright, we・ve got three flyers・"

"No Scott, we don・t." Jean looked up and Remy saw for the first time how uneasy her expression looked, how worry had etched deep lines into her skin. "There is no reason to think that we won・t be affected by Shadow King・s control once we get too close. I・m going to need all of my energy to protect us from that. I don・t know if I・ll have anything left over for telekinesis. He・s strong. I can feel it."

There was silence.

"Well, dat presents a problem, now don・t it?"

"Only if you・re not willing to see the solution, Traitor." His glance shot to Marrow, sitting unnoticed across from him and a few chairs over. Her eyes locked with his and then narrowed daringly. "We can take the tunnels. No traffic there. Nothing ta stop us but ghosts."

No one said anything for a moment, and then, because he felt like it was his responsibility to do so, Remy replied, "She・s right. Dat・s de best way in. We can take de cars most o・ de way an・ den drop down into de sewers once we get close."

"If we get caught down there and something happens we will have no way out." Remy turned to see Storm shaking her head. "I do not think we should corner ourselves that way when there is so little we know about the situation."

"Why? Scared, Windrider?" A malicious grin settled comfortably on Marrow・s lips.

"No." The answering gaze was ice blue and direct, delicate white eyebrows firmly set.

"Look," Scott interrupted. "I don・t see what other choice we have given the circumstances. Unless anybody has another suggestion?" He left the question hanging in the air for a moment but no one reached up to grab it. "Then the tunnels it is. There is a lot we still don・t know so that means that we handle this situation with as much caution as possible. Until we know exactly what the threat is, we・ll have no idea what to expect. I want everybody to meet out front in the garage in 10 minutes, full armor and civilian clothes over. We・ll split up into cars then. Any questions?"

There was a general shaking of heads. The leader stood poised a few more moments for good measure, and then: "Okay. Dismissed."

********

He was back in his room and he was shivering as he changed into his armor, sliding on spandex and strapping on metal knee guards. She was eerily quiet in his mind, but the static of her unease was deafening. He got the sense that she was afraid that everything that was falling apart and she could do nothing to stop it.

We・ve faced Shadow King plenty of times before. It don・ mean de world・s gonna end.

She didn・t reply. He wondered if she really was just being paranoid.

And then there was the flair up in his spatial sense, and that was the first thing that alerted him to the fact that he was not alone. The second was the sound of the window opening and someone landing heavily inside. Heavy blankets muffled the emotions of the mind that owned the sounds and movement. Familiar blankets. Remy didn・t look up.

"Hi Jake."

"Ouch. You know, I think I bruised myself coming down your stupid storm pipe. Hey, nice spandex. Not many guys can pull off wearing hot pink."

"It・s fuchsia."

"Uh-huh." He didn・t sound convinced.

There was a loud click as Remy clamped down the buckle on his boot. He stood, reaching for his trenchcoat where it lay on his bed. His eyes finally came to Jake standing in a ruffled expensive-looking suit and staying half in the shadows. "How・d you get in here? Past de security and de cameras?"

"Not hard to, you know. It・s nice being a shape shifter. I can look like any X-Man I wish, and unless somebody actually decides to examine the video tape, they won・t notice the difference."

The trenchcoat came on with a satisfying ・swish・, worn fabric flowing softly against his legs. "Cerebro constantly scans for bio signs. It woulda picked up yours as not belonging."

Jake shook his head smugly. "Nope, not if the computer doesn・t find any bio signs to register. I paid quite a bit of money to make me appear virtually dead to any computer or medical device. It better work well."

"Nice." Remy nodded approvingly. "Look, we both know y・ ain・t here for a social visit. Tell New Son I・m not doin・ anymore jobs for him. The debt・s paid. I・m done."

He waited for Jake・s reaction, for a threat to be thrown at him or some other form of persuasion. It never came.

"Good. So am I."

He couldn・t help the expression of surprise that reached his features, feeling his eyebrows rise. "Job not payin・ enough, Jakey?"

"I wish that were the reason. Let・s just leave it at this: my employer has become・ unstable, and it・s time for me to move on." Jake・s countenance betrayed nothing as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a sealed manila envelope. "Take this. It・s your last delivery to the Congressman."

"I t・ought you said you were done working for New Son."

"I am. Almost. Once I decide exactly how to terminate business. Whether you deliver the envelope or not is up to you. I・m just the messenger."

Remy walked over to the dresser, took out two packs of cards and slipped them into the holsters on his belt. "What・s in it?"

"A disk. That・s all I know."

"You really are jus・ de messenger."

"Too dangerous being anything more."

Remy nodded, looking at Jake as he threw the envelope onto the bed. Through the window behind him Remy could see the sky darkening into black, dusk fading away.

"I・d like to stay and chat Jake, but dere・s a crisis in de city I got t・ attend to." He picked up the envelope and stuck it in the inside pocket of his trenchcoat, snapping a flap closed over it. This wasn・t the kind of stuff he wanted to leave out for someone to find.

"Really? Going to play Superhero?" Jake smirked slightly, as if the idea amused him.

"Yup. Seems Greenwich is getting a bit violent."

Jake tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "Funny, I was over in that area earlier today for a meeting."

"Jake, if dat・s what y・ find to be funny, y・ need to get out more. I trust you can find your way out?"

He bowed extravagantly. "With my eyes closed." He stood again. "Just as long as your storm pipe doesn・t try to kill me again."

"See ya, Jake," he threw over his shoulder as he turned toward the door.

"Have fun, Remy."

The lock clicked quietly as he pulled the doorknob behind him and left the room. There was a voice in his head as he walked down the hall to his rendezvous point with the team. "Don・t you dare think of delivering that letter." He・d been waiting for her to interject with some foreboding comment since the moment Jake arrived. He hadn・t expected her to hold out so long before delivering it.

Non, cherie. M・ New Son dealing days are numbered.

He patted the breast of his trenchcoat where he knew the envelope was safe. Dis little pup ain・t leavin・ Remy・s possession.

But as he reached the bottom of the stairs he could feel her tension refusing to ease and because he and her were now one, he could feel her fear that this might be the start of the events that led to the end in her world. It didn・t matter that they were going to fight Shadow King and not New Son, the man she had always believed would play a key role in the start of the Great War. The anxiety was still there, the looming threat that she might have failed. He had the sense of an hourglass quickly loosing sand in his mind and she knew there were only a few precious grains left.

She・d heard the news coming out of Greenwich, sat quietly in his mind and absorbed it all.

And no matter how she thought of it, it sounded too much like home.

End Part 11