xp_logs | Remy's office--Remy, Lorna

Before Lorna heads off to Scotland, Remy asks her for a favor because he won't be attending. She agrees to do it but calls him on being a coward and makes it clear she expects better of him. He doesn't think there is anything better he can give.

Remy hung the suit bag up on the back of the door, brushing a touch of dust from the black plastic. His clothes in New York had been in storage for over three years now, and the tenders had been a little surprised with his absence. Pity, really.

He checked the clock, keeping an ear out. He's e-mailed Lorna when he'd gotten in, and the green headed woman was usually fast to respond. Obviously the wedding had been engaged like a titanic battle, he thought with a smile.

Lorna had broken away from planning as soon as she could, her earpiece still dangled from her ear since it was much easier to pack with both hands free. The wedding was going to be the death of her, she was certain. She emailed Remy back, her sentences short, eschewing niceties like spelling, punctuation or capitalization. 'u back or just taunting me'

Remy sat down at his computer and clicked a few keys. He was a classic two finger typist, but could get a good turn of speed. 'Office. Can you come by?'

Lorna gave her room a critical glance and decided it could wait. 'yep cya five minutes' She finished up her phone call and dashed off to his office, walking at the same near breakneck speed she'd been at all week. She rapped on his office door once then let herself in. "Allo."

"It's open." Remy said, shuffling through some files and making neat piles on his desk. Lorna came in, and paused to look at the suit hanger on the back of the door. "Picked up some of my things out of storage yesterday."

She glanced around the room, "Aye. So you did." Her voice had subtly shifted over the past two weeks, acquiring a strange Scots-French accent from her incessant conversations with her catering contacts. "Any particular reason?"

"De original intention was for my tuxedo." Remy grinned over the paperwork. "Like I told Clarice, Remy have to live some of de cliches." He pointed to it, and went back to his shuffling, motioning for her to open it if she wanted.

Lorna gave a little stroke of her hand to undo the zipper and stepped over to pull it out of the garment bag, "Very nice," she practically purred as she touched the black cloth, "Looks like…oh, Armani, I thought so. You're a very well-dressed international man of mystery."

"Pays to be prepared. Used to have studs dat were detonators. Found dem a little difficult to replace." Remy nodded, setting another stack aside. "Last time I wore dat was... Kuwait, in 2001. Four hundred oil sheiks, a dozen well dressed Russian thugs, and one very puzzled looking Japanese freighter captain."

"You're going to leave the weapons at home for the wedding, yes?" She lifted the tux down and turned around to hold it in front of him, imaging him in it. She ran her hand over the front and frowned at him, teasing out the thin wire garrotte. "Very unfashionable," she scolded him, letting it curl around her wrist like a snake.

Remy suddenly looked slightly uncomfortable. "Actually, chere, dat's why I called you. I need you to do a favour for me." He lifted a rectangular box wrapped in light grey paper on the desk and sat it there. "I need you to take my gift over."

Lorna looked at him sadly then turned carefully to hang up the tuxedo again. "You're not going." It wasn't a question and it was barely a reproach. She crossed to the desk and lifted the box, looking down at it thoughtfully. "Why not?"

"Business." Remy sat back in his chair. "Got a line on a possible Brotherhood connection going through Denver. Looks like Magneto is getting into drug money, since Wisdom cut off a chunk of his accounts in Europe last year. When Pete left, all of our resources dat had any line on dem went with him" Remy sighed heavily, and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I can't let an opportunity like this slip away."

She rounded the desk and hopped up on it to sit in front of him. "You mean you're running away," Lorna said softly and leaned back on her hands. "You're going to need a better lie for when you tell Moira."

"Believe it or not, Lorna, but sometimes de job has to come first." Remy said, avoiding her eyes. He knew he should have asked Jubilee or someone like that. "Jake and I will be dere for de next couple of days. If dis works out, we might finally have a chance to get a handle on what dat bastard is doing."

She shook her head, violently, "I've had a hell of a week, Remy. The last thing I need right now is you lying to me, okay? So if you're not going just, don't go. But don't lie to me." Stress was playing havoc with her emotions anyway so it didn't really surprise her when she choked on sob and had to fight back tears. "Christ, now see what you've done." She stood up so she could search her pockets for a tissue.

Well, that pretty much confirmed it, thought Remy. He pretty much was as loathsome as he thought. His face had gone bloodless, and his features were set cold as he picked up the napkin from his lunch and passed it over. "Here. You'll ruin your makeup."

"My makeup? My makeup?" Her voice rose shrilly on the last word and she snatched the napkin from his hand before poking him sharply in the chest with one finger, "Do you think I care about my makeup? What I care about is my friend running away from being a person. Again!" She sniffled into the thin paper napkin. "You jerk."

"You right, chere." Remy said quietly, looking first at the finger in his chest, and following it up to her face, but still avoiding her look. "But dat doesn't change de fact dat dere is one place dat I belong, and one place dat I don't."

She wilted back against the desk again. "How can you say that? Don't you have any faith in yourself? Still?" she asked plaintively.

"Because dere's nothing to have faith in!" Remy exploded. It was the first time she'd ever seen him lose control. Even before his memory was restored, Remy's anger was normally cold and controlled. This was just rage. "I can't fucking find de lunatic who's interested in killing us all wit' thumbtacks, de National Enquirer has better intelligence and I can't stop Wisdom! I can't stop him, I can't even fucking slow him down, and someone here is going to die because of me!"

She didn't flinch from him. Even in the midst of his fury, she had perfect faith that he wouldn't hurt her. When he stopped, barely breathing any harder despite his outburst, she stood and reached up to frame his face with her hands. "Are you giving up?" She wouldn't let him move away, holding him with her eyes and the light touch of her hands. "Are you doing anything less than your best?"

"It's not good enough." The emotion drained from him, and he closed his eyes. "Not even close. De only thing dat Remy can do is kill."

"Remy, don't you know you saved my life?" She stroked her fingers over his face softly, like she was soothing a child. "You're not a soulless killer. Whatever Gambit is, you're not that. Gambit wouldn't have cared about a skinny girl who had just about given up. And Gambit wouldn't be in pain because he can't save a school full of stupid teenagers."

Remy gave a sickly amused snort. "Non, Gambit wouldn't be having dese problems. He would have fed Wisdom his own liver and den slammed his staff through Magneto's thick skull." He opened his eyes finally. "But Remy can't do dat, and I'm not good enough at anything but killing to stop either of dem."

Lorna shook her head, "Do you honestly think they'd have given you this job if they didn't think you were the best person for it? Christ, Remy, none of us here are perfect. Look at us, a bunch of teachers and half-grown kids. But we're all doing the best we can." She sighed and dropped her hands. "That's all we expect from you too."

"Dat's not going to help when some one ends up dead." Remy shook his head, utterly ashamed to have admitted the thoughts that prayed on him, especially to Lorna, the last person to deserve it. "I expect more, and dats what matters."

"I expect more from you too." She linked her hands behind her back, "I expect you to believe in yourself. I expect that you're going to try to leave behind what you hate about Gambit. I expect a lot from you and I believe that you won't let me down."

"I think dat one of dese days dat you going to be disappointed, chere." Gambit sagged back down into his chair, wishing he could smoke in his office for the thousandth time. He swallowed convulsively, his throat suddenly tight. "Best dat you learn dat now."

"I'm an optimist. I'm used to disappointment. Doesn't shake me a bit." Lorna smiled though her eyes were still worried. "I have lots of faith to spend on you. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

"Non." Remy shook his head. "You strong, chere. All I did was give you a push in de direction dat you were already going in."

"I wasn't strong. I was killing myself with neglect and I didn't care." Lorna could speak frankly about it now, a year's time making it hurt less. "Do you know that right this second I weigh 36 pounds more than I did a year ago?" She sat on the desk again and rested her arms on her knees. "You should have terrified me back then. Everything else did. But you were one of the only places I felt safe. Even when Alex came back…" She had to stop, taking a deep breath. "Anyway, I know that you're better than just a killer."

"Dat makes one of us." He said ruefully. It's true. Weddings did make people crazy. "I think you've got too much faith in people, Lorna. Or specifically in me. I don't know why you felt safe. About the only thing that I can promise you is dat anyone trying to hurt you goes through Remy first."

"I don't think you can have too much faith in people. People surprise you sometimes. You just have to let them." Lorna stood and bent to brush a kiss across his cheek, "I have to get back to work. If you're set on not going, please be careful." She set the wire garrotte back on his desk.

Remy didn't say anything as she left, simply staring at the coil of wire on the desk until the windows grew dark. Finally he straightened up and turned back to his computer. He had a flight to catch to Denver, and the excuse of a job to do.