Things That Go Boom

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

In the Blackbird on the way to France, Angie is a little overawed, Kurt reassures her, and Scott and Sam banter. A few of the more serious details of the mission are touched on as well, of course. Between the bantering.


"Well," Scott said amiably, smiling at the weather report he'd called up on one of his screens, "looks like we'll have pretty much clear going all the way over to France." The Blackbird had reached cruising altitude a few minutes ago, and maybe he was being fanciful, but he thought the plane was happy to have an opportunity to stretch her legs a little. Without it being a hot scramble to some crisis or another. "Looking forward to setting foot on native soil for the afternoon, Angie?" he called back over his shoulder.

Marie-Ange was still looking around the interior of the plane with something akin to wonder, and it took a moment for her to realize that Scott was asking her a direct question. "Yes." she said, distractedly, not entirely aware of the question. Big. Plane. Going very fast. She was not nearly the adrenaline junkie that some of her classmates were, but this was just simply incredible.

Keeping an eye on the consoles in front of him, Sam spared a moment to grin at Scott. "Ah think she's a mite overwhelmed by the 'Bird, Scott," he whispered amusedly, cocking his head back at Marie-Ange.

Kurt smiled at her reassuringly. "You should have seen me, the first time I saw it."

"I suspect it's a combination of things," Scott went on amiably. "First time in the 'Bird, first mission... even if we're wearing civilian clothes so as to look nonthreatening." He glanced sideways at Sam, unable to help a grin. "Speaking of the mission. You, Sam, can spend the next couple of hours practicing the endearing farmboy act. Kurt, the solemn and ingratiating 'look at me exuding trustworthiness' routine would probably go over well. And Angie..." He paused, the grin widening a little. "Just be yourself. I didn't actually pick you for this just because you're French."

Although that had played a role. He'd been wanting a milk run for Angie for a few weeks now, but nothing had come up until this - which was perfect, on a number of levels. It would be good for her to come along and see how this sort of thing was handled, and she would definitely be a good example of an Xavier's student for this child they were picking up this afternoon. Not to mention the child's parents.

Marie-Ange smiled back and laughed lightly. "I do not understand why some of my classmates think you do not have a sense of humour." She was glad of it though. The more that she talked, the less she thought about how utterly strange this was. On top of not thinking about the myriad ways this had to confounding Immigration.

"It's an illusion I cultivate," Scott said, then grew a little more serious. "Kurt? You're okay with wearing an image inducer? Charles was talking about the need for delicacy with this pick-up... we can always explain it to the girl afterwards. I assume it's her parents we're trying not to alarm."

Kurt nodded, smiling slightly. "It is not as though I am not used to wearing the inducer. The Professor asked for it, so I will do it."

Scott made a skeptical noise - he still didn't like it - but left it there and glanced sideways at Sam. "Did you look over the paperwork I left for you?" he asked, and Sam nodded. He'd wanted to give Sam an idea of the amount of formalities there were in picking up an international student, especially when it was done in the Blackbird - which was why they didn't usually do it that way. Charles had wanted a direct pick-up, though, and so that was the way they were doing it. "Most of that was the result of Charles making a few telephone calls to people in high places, but if we happen to attract any official attention getting in at least we've got our asses covered now."

Sam chuckled dryly. He rather doubted Scott went into any situation without having a backup plan to make sure his ass was covered. "Ah noticed all the paperwork was actually filled out, too," he replied. "Sure ya didn't mean to leave it all for me to fill out?" he asked with a wink.

"First stage, familiarize yourself with the paperwork," Scott said with a quick smile. "Second, do the paperwork. I'm breaking you in slowly, Padawan." He laughed a little, glancing down at his screens again, just to reassure himself. The Blackbird was on autopilot at this point, of course. "Feel free to charm the kid if you want, by the way. Might put her more at ease."

"Charm? A li'l ol' country boy like me?" Sam asked, thickening up his accent for effect. "Ah'm sure Ah don' know what ya mean, Mistah Summers, sir." He grinned. "An' don't think that Ah'm just gonna lay down and do all your paperwork so that ya can just sit out on the patio drinkin' beer and carryin' on, Scott," he continued.

"Uh-oh. You've tumbled to my fiendish plan, Guthrie. Now I'll have to toss you out of the Blackbird while we're still at thirty thousand feet." Scott made a disappointed noise. "Wait, I forgot. You fly."

Marie-Ange kept a calm expression through this entire exchange, trying not to show how very surprised she was. This? Did not sound like the Cyclops and Cannonball she'd expected. This was two friends joking and teasing each other. Obviously someone had forgotten to give her the memo that the X-men kept their senses of humour on duty.

"Kurt, Angie, you might as well sit back and enjoy the ride," Scott suggested. "I'll think of something suitably violent to do to Sam later."

~*~


The team arrives at a farmhouse outside Toulouse and meet the Courchesnes. They find out that the pickup isn't going to be as simple as it was supposed to be. There is some 'selling' of the school left to be done, both to Eliane (the pyrokinetic they're supposed to be picking up) and her parents, but they manage it quite nicely.


The Courchesnes' farmhouse wouldn't have looked out of place on a postcard, Scott reflected. Beautiful place, really, and the countryside was even more lovely. Green and lush and very hilly, with the Pyrenees in the distance. He could see why the girl, Eliane, might be somewhat loathe to leave home for an unfamiliar country on the other side of the ocean.

They were able to land the Blackbird more or less in the backyard, which was good considering how far away the nearest airstrip was. The plan was for a quick in and out, given that all the discussions were supposed to have been carried out and the decision made.

The plan went out the window roughly five minutes after landing, when the Courchesnes insisted upon inviting them in for tea. Benoit and Dorianne, Eliane's parents, were outwardly stoic but Scott read people well enough to see the anxiety beneath. And there was no sign of the girl at all.

"~Where is your daughter, Madame?~" he inquired lightly, in passable French, as Dorianne ushered them all to seats. She colored, not meeting his eyes, and it was her husband who answered.

"Eliane is... packing," Benoit said in heavily accented English. The strain in his voice was audible. "She should be down soon."

Marie-Ange sat and did not fidget, even if she wanted to, just a little. She knew, rationally that she was here because she was trusted as a responsible student. But nonetheless, she did not want to say the wrong thing, or step on anyone's toes. Something about this felt odd, like they had a deadline they must make, and she could not figure out why.

There were the sound of footsteps from the direction of the stairs, and soon, a slender redhead, maybe sixteen years of age, was standing at the doorway to the sitting room, hands folded behind her back and eyes downcast. "~I have finished packing,~" Eliane Courchesne said in a very soft voice, and then finally looked up, her expression briefly startled at the sight of so many people in the room with her parents. "I saw the plane," she said in English far clearer than her parents. "Am I really to ride across the ocean in that?"

"You are," Kurt said with a smile, hoping to set her at her ease. "And I think you will find it quite an experience."

"Some of the other students who've gotten to ride to school in the jet consider it one of their fondest memories," Scott said with a smile. Eliane blinked at him, and he gave her a little wave. "I'm Scott Summers, Eliane. One of the headmasters at the school. This is Kurt Wagner," he paused to let Kurt nod, "Sam Guthrie, and..." He paused for a moment, his smile growing. "Marie-Ange Colbert. She's one of our older students, and a fellow Frenchwoman. I thought you might like to meet her, as well as have some company on the flight back."

Eliane focused on Angie, offering her a tentative smile. "~Hello. From where do you come?~"

Marie-Ange returned the smile, and nodded her head in greeting. "~Just outside of Lyons.~" There were going to be so many jokes about having even more red-heads with accents. She just knew it. "~The jet is a bit startling, is it not? I only just rode in it for the first time today myself.~"

"~It is very large and dark. Very striking,~" Eliane agreed, and then came over, a bit tentatively, to sit down in one of the empty chairs.

"We have a number of international students at the school," Scott said, then turned his professional smile on Benoit and Dorianne. "Kurt here... Mr. Wagner is one of the students' favorites."

Kurt smiled warmly. "I teach German and some physical education classes. Fencing, dance, trapeze work on occasion."

"How very... versatile," Dorianne said wonderingly, seeming to relax a little as she served the tea. "There are such a range of opportunities for Eliane at the school? Your Professor spoke of different classes, true, but..." She faltered a little.

"We were more concerned to know that Eliane's... gift would be probably trained," Benoit filled the silence, obviously stumbling over the proper description for his daughter's pyrokinesis.

They didn't seem afraid. Not of their daughter, at least... so what was the problem? "We've had other young people with similar abilities at the school," Scott said reassuringly. "Not one who generated fire, per se, although we'll have to introduce you to Shiro Yoshida once we're back and you've settled in, Eliane. His abilities are probably the closest to yours of any of the current students." He smiled. "I happen to teach the energy-projectors class, as well, so you and I would be spending quite a bit of time together."

"Then.. her abilities are not unusual?" Benoit questioned.

"No mutant ability is common, really," Scott clarified gently, "but there are certain... familiar ranges of different types of mutation. We've seen a number who fall within the same range as Eliane does. So we're well-equipped to help her get a handle on her abilities."

"I... really?" Eliane said, looking hopeful now. "I have such troubles. When I get angry, or upset, things... catch on fire." She flushed. "I don't meant to do it. It just happens."

Kurt reached out to pat her hand reassuringly. "Many young mutants, especially those with... volatile... powers, find that their control is linked to their emotions. It will be part of your training to prevent that happening."

"When you have an energy-projecting ability, of whatever sort," Scott said steadily, "focus and concentration are the most important things to learn. You learn that, and control tends to follow." And don't ask about the glasses, kiddo, he thought with an inward sigh, seeing the way she was regarding him. This was not the time to spoil the pep talk.

Sam thanked his stars that the Courchesne family spoke English passably well, since otherwise he would have been reduced to simply sitting there watching the entire conversation go on around him. Granted, that was why they had brought Marie-Ange, but still, it felt nice to be able to contribute.

"Really, focus and concentration go a long way toward masterin' any sort of power, be it psi, energy-projectin', or flyin'. Ah'm a flyer, and the Good Lord knows it took a lot of time workin' on focus before Ah learned how to land without plowin' a furrow in the front lawn." He smiled wryly. "We have some outstanding minds on staff, experts on mutation, and that's not even countin' Professor Xavier himself," he said, smiling at Eliane. "Ah'm sure they'll be able to help you learn how to control your power."

Marie-Ange nodded and smiled gently. "~Most of us have had one kind of control problem or another. Even the people who you would not expect~" This was, she guessed, more for Eliane's parents benefit. "~I create solid illusions. They used to run around at night while I slept. One bit my friend Jamie once.~"

"~Really?~" Eliane suddenly giggled, then slapped a hand over her mouth, looking appalled at herself. "~I did not mean to laugh. What sort of illusion? Was he badly bitten?~"

"~A very small version of one of my classmates in tights and a cape like Superman.~" Marie-Ange answered, trying not to giggle too much herself. "~And no, fortunately, my images were not very solid then. Jamie thought it was funny.~" Jamie had a fairly twisted sense of humour though, Marie-Ange thought. And that was probably not the best thing to mention, the prank war, and the dying of people's hair.

Scott was smiling at the two of them. Bringing Angie along had been a small stroke of genius, he thought with a flicker of satisfaction, and then glanced back at the Courchesnes. They were watching their daughter, looking heartened, and Scott lifted his teacup.

"So," he said more quietly, so as not to disturb the girls, "anything more you'd like to know about the staff, or course offerings, or extracurricular activities?" He gave Eliane's parents his best reserved-yet-charming smile. No harm in selling the school a little more.

~*~


Eliane's brother Fabrice arrives home, and turns out to be violently opposed to the idea of his sister going to school in the United States. (Yes, violently.) Scott tries to reason with him. It doesn't go well. Sam and Kurt remove him from the premises in an attempt to continue reasoning with him in a more vigorous fashion.


The screech of tires outside shattered the quiet conversation, and Scott looked up sharply at what sounded very much like - yes, a definite howl of outrage. He looked across at Benoit and Dorianne, frowning. "Were you expecting company?" he asked, wishing he could shake the sudden conviction that the reaction had been to the Blackbird.

Dorianne turned as white as a sheet, grabbing at Benoit's shoulder. "~We have delayed them too long!~" she said anxiously, switching back to French. "~Benoit, you must speak to him!~"

Him? Scott was out of his chair by the time the front door crashed open and a young man came blurring, quite literally, down the hall and into the sitting room. That was not natural speed, Scott's brain processed as he turned to face the flushed, obviously infuriated newcomer. "Hello," he said, extending his hand and moving deliberately between the young man and the Courchesnes. "Scott Summers."

The newcomer promptly spat on the offered hand, and Scott blinked. "~Kidnapper!~" he raged, distributing his glare equally between the four strangers. "~And you!~" he snarled, turning on his father. "~How could you, Father? This is intolerable! Eliane,~" he called out more appealingly, moving towards the girl, who shrank back into her chair, looking horrified. "~I won't let them take you,~" he promised, then stopped, balked by Scott moving to cut him off. "Get out of my way!" he raged. "She is my sister!"

Oh, Eliane had a brother. A terribly rude one too, if this was any indication of his usual behaviour. Well, better this than an outraged boyfriend, she supposed. Marie-Ange looked over to Eliane and raised her eyebrows questioningly. "~I do not suppose reminding him that he can call and write will do any good?~" she asked dryly.

"~Fabrice doesn't want me to go,~" Eliane whispered back, her eyebrows heading for her hairline. "~But I did not think he would throw such a... a tantrum!~" She paled a little further as Fabrice swore viciously at Scott, trying to move around him again. Scott moved to cut him off and spoke in a low, calm, reassuring voice... one that had no discernible effect whatsoever on her very angry brother.

"~Now would be a good time, I think, to move out of the way.~" Marie-Ange said firmly, and reached out to take Eliane's arm. The girl's brother was not getting any calmer, or quieter, and one young man moving very fast could do a lot of harm to someone by accident.

"--not taking my sister!" Fabrice was snarling. He waved contemptuously in his parents' direction. "They do not understand her, but I do! I can help her!"

"You're a mutant too," Scott said, keeping his voice quiet, his body language unthreatening. "So am I. If you've gotten your abilities under control, that's great - what are they, super-speed?" His attempt at distraction didn't seem to be working. Fabrice was just looking more visibly agitated, trying to move around him again. Why he didn't do it at speed, Scott didn't know - although the Courchesnes had a lot of rather nice antique-looking furniture in this room and maybe Fabrice didn't want to damage any of his parents' things. "But your sister's having difficulties, from what I understand," Scott went on just as calmly. "Pyrokinesis is a difficult ability to master. It's so often tied into your emotional state--"

"I do not need you to tell me about my sister's gift!" Fabrice spat, livid. "Get out of my way, American!"

"Why?" Scott asked, his voice a bit harder. "You're scaring her and your parents, Fabrice. Settle down, all right? We can talk this through, make sure that everyone's happy with what's been settled..."

"I do not wish to talk!" Fabrice said, then burst into French of it again, most of it profane, a good portion of it unintelligible. Scott liked to think he spoke the language passably, but the accent was throwing him, and Fabrice was speaking entirely too quickly.

With a glance at Sam and silent agreement between them, Kurt began moving into place to try and head off the impending trouble.

Oh dear. Murphy's Law looked like it had struck again. Sam stood quietly, trying not to look at all threatening. He didn't imagine that Fabrice was likely to strike out at his parents, though it paid to be prepared for any eventuality. The person he was most worried about was Marie-Ange. Scott and Kurt knew how to take care of themselves, but Marie-Ange was still a trainee.

"Fabrice, calm down," Scott said firmly. His eyes darted to Angie for a minute, wondering if he should get her to translate. But no, he didn't want to draw her in closer, not when the other man was this angry. "Why don't we sit down and we'll go over with you what kind of help we can offer your sister? I think once you hear the details, you'll be more content with her choice."

"No!" Fabrice actually looked like he was on the verge of tears, not just an explosive temper tantrum, Scott reflected with some surprise. "You will not take my sister away! You will NOT!" He lashed out at Scott in a sudden, rapid blow, his fist blurring through the air.

Scott started to dodge, but Fabrice's punch caught him in the shoulder - and the air between them flashed in a silent explosion. The force of it threw Scott backwards and into the glass-fronted cabinet behind him with a crash. He slumped to the floor, knocked out by the impact, and Eliane let out a shrill scream.

There was no 'looked' about it. Murphy was definitely in the house. Taking in Scott's unconscious form, Sam assessed the room quickly. Marie-Ange was pulling Eliane back, so that was taken care of. Benoit and Dorianne looked shocked, but they didn't appear to be in any danger, as Sam still thought the concept of Fabrice attacking his parents was unlikely.

Catching Kurt's eye, Sam nodded toward Fabrice. "Ni...Kurt," he said, realizing that this wasn't exactly a situation for codenames. "Ah think we need to take this li'l argument outside. Marie-Ange," he continued, taking a moment to make eye contact with the girl, "see to Scott."

Finally looking at Fabrice, he smiled thinly. "Ah think someone needs a time out," he joked. Thankfully, the sitting room was a straight shot from the front door. "Ma'am," he said politely to Dorianne before igniting his blast field and rocketing straight at Fabrice.

Fabrice yelped and tried to struggle out of Sam's grasp, demonstrating what was obviously enhanced strength, but by the time he managed it they were outside, and he landed rather awkwardly in a tangle of limbs from fifteen feet up. Not a fall that most people would have been able to walk away from without at least some expression of discomfort, but he bounced back to his feet, swearing sulphurously in French.

"~Bastard!~ You take young girls from their families, do you?" he raged at Sam. "What does that make you? Come down here and I will tell you what it makes you!"

"Stop!" Kurt snapped, uncharacteristically sharply. "We will be taking your sister nowhere if she does not wish to go."

~*~


Inside the house, Scott's without his glasses, the Courchesnes are a little stunned, and Angie gets to play Scott's eyes. Blind or not, Scott very quickly figures out the problem. Outside, Sam and Kurt deal with the very agitated Fabrice. A serious opponent he is not, and some teamwork allows the two X-Men to subdue him without doing him any harm.


Ow. It was the first coherent thought Scott had as he roused. The second was that his face felt a little bare, and that was so not a good thing. He tried to sit up and a groan escaped him. Maybe not such a good idea right now, except that there had been a very agitated someone blowing up, hadn't there? And blowing up was bad. Where was his team? Agitated now, Scott tried to move again, gritting his teeth. "Sam?" he muttered hoarsely. Was his com working? "Sam..."

"Samuel has gone to have a conversation with Eliane's brother." Marie-Ange said quietly. If he was talking, hopefully that also meant that Mr. Summers did not have a concussion. He sounded coherant, if dazed, despite the cuts from the glass. She stepped carefully around the broken glass to try to get closer. "~Do you have bandages?~" She asked the Courchesnes, not caring which answered, as long as she got an answer.

"~I will get them,~" Eliane said suddenly, and all but flew towards the kitchen. Her parents seemed frozen; Benoit looked as dazed as Scott, without the excuse. and Dorianne was wringing her hands and muttering to herself under her breath.

"Glasses, Angie," Scott muttered, pushing himself up to a sitting position and keeping his eyes tightly closed. "Where are my glasses?" He was remembering, now, a good sign that he hadn't actually managed the concussion this time. Eliane's brother, raging at him, and a punch that had been a little more explosive than punches usually were...

There did not seem to be any sign of the glasses anywhere near Mr. Summers, and it was not until Marie-Ange had carefully moved some of the larger pieces of glass that she saw them. In three places, one of which was under where Scott had landed. "Broken." She answered. "And I do not think they are reparable." She didn't -think- she could make a set either. Not from the broken pieces. The image would just repeat a broken pair of glasses.

"Crap. And my visor's on the 'Bird," Scott growled, his head turning in an attempt to face in what he thought was the direction where Benoit and Dorianne had been sitting. "What's going on?" he grated, carefully standing up. Everything was working, from the feel of it, and if he hadn't have been rendered effectively blind here he'd have considered this a minor bump in the road. "Why is he reacting like this?"

"We... did not tell him that we were sending Eliane away today," Dorianne answered, still wringing her hands and sounding helpless. Tears were trickling down her face, all at once. "He thinks he can teach her himself, but what he is.. it is not at all what she is, and he could do nothing!"

Marie-Ange glanced over her shoulder at Eliane's parents. How on earth was she doing to explain that Sam flew off after Fabrice without getting into the messy issue of the X-men, and having to answer awkward questions. Though, she supposed, answering awkward questions -was- Mr. Summers' job, and not hers, it probably wouldn't do to cause him any extra questions to answer. "Sam and Kurt went outside to try to calm, ah.. Fabrice, down, though he did not seem to want to listen."

Scott's jaw clenched a little further. "That's it?" he asked the parents harshly. "He's just reacting to not knowing and not wanting her to go?" The noises from outside were not reassuring. ~Cannonball, report!~ Scott subvocalized, after feeling to make sure that his com was still there. No answer, though. Had it been damaged, too?

Eliane, who had chosen that moment to come running back with bandages, froze as she handed them to Marie-Ange, turning crimson. "I... I called him," she stammered. "Just to say goodbye! I was so very upset, before I met you all and found out that you were good people--"

"~You called him?~" Dorianne said, almost in a shriek. "~But we were trying to get you away so that he would not be able to interfere!~"

"~You did not tell me that!~" Eliane flared at her mother. "~How was I supposed to know? I only wanted to say goodbye!~"

"Enough," Scott said, cutting her off. "I think I get it now. Angie?" he asked, his head turning again in the direction her voice had come from. "I need you to be my eyes here."

"Of course." Marie-Ange answered. "What do you need me to do?" She stepped closer, around the glass and broken china, reaching out to steady Scott.

"Com's broken," he muttered to her. "Can you see the others and Fabrice from any of the windows? Once Sam's got him under control I want Eliane out there talking to him. If she reassures him that she wants to do this he might back down." Possibly. It was the best chance they had, in any case.

"Sam and Fabrice are ... " Marie-Ange squinted to see better. "In a tree." She looked over her shoulder at Eliane and her parents, who seemed more stunned than anything. "No, I am wrong. They -were- in the tree. Now they are hitting each other, with little effect."

Little effect. "Eliane, is your brother invulnerable?" He heard a noise that might have been assent, might have been something else. Damn it. "Eliane, once he's calmed down, you need to talk to him," he persisted. "If he's reacting the way he is because he thinks you're being forced to go with us, we can't convince him otherwise. Only you can."

"I... can try," Eliane said somewhat tremulously.

She didn't sound convinced herself. How was she going to convince her idiot brother? "Angie? What's going on now?"

~*~

Fabrice suddenly blurred at Sam, moving so fast that he actually managed to go airborne, slamming into Sam and grabbing at his blast field, howling incredibly foul French imprecations as he apparently did his best to try and claw his way through.

Sam's command of the French language was limited to the bare essentials: "hello", "my name is Sam", "do you speak any English", "where is the bathroom" and the like. But some things crossed the language barrier, and he imagined that whatever it was Fabrice was shouting, it wasn't exactly language that his mother would be proud of.

Thankfully he had left his blast field up, so Fabrice's attempts to claw at Sam were for nothing, but Sam had the sinking feeling from the way the young man had shaken off landing in the tree that he also had at least a measure of invulnerability. Still, he leveled a powerful punch at Fabrice, hoping to at least slow him down.

Fabrice shrugged it off as if it had been a mosquito bite. He grabbed at Sam's arm and whirled, as if trying to throw him. All he managed to do was pull Sam very slightly off-balance, although he followed up rapidly with a few super-speed punches of his own, hammering at Sam's blast field.

"You will not take her! She will not go away from her family... I won't let you!"

Sam sighed. A Mexican standoff, then. He couldn't hurt Fabrice, but Fabrice couldn't hurt him. What he wouldn't give to have had one of the telepaths along for the ride, even the Professor himself.

After a few moments of Fabrice pounding futilely at his blast field, Sam raised an eyebrow and snorted lightly. "Are y'all quite done?" he said above the noise of his blasting and Fabrice's fists.

Fabrice's face was set into a strangely feral mask at this point. "~Not hardly!~" he snarled in French and slammed both fists into Sam's blast shield, creating the same sort of explosion that had knocked Scott out.

While the explosion did no harm to Sam inside his blast field, it did send him skidding backward for a step or two. He sighed and shook his head. Reason hadn't worked. Letting Fabrice have a few hits to try and work out his anger hadn't worked either. Sitting around slugging each other didn't sound like a very good option. Fabrice had natural invulnerability, Sam was invulnerable only as long as his blast field stayed up. And keeping the blast field up while not flying was a lot more taxing. He needed a way to break the stalemate, and quickly.

"Kurt!" he barked quickly. Then, lunging forward, he used his blast field to push Fabrice back sharply, toward the teleporter. He knew the effects Kurt's teleportation could have on someone who wasn't used to it, and hoped that a few teleports might take some of the piss and vinegar out of Fabrice.

Cursing as he bounced off Sam's blast field, Fabrice stumbled backwards. Far enough away from Sam, for the first time, for Kurt to act.

And so he did, lunging forward to grab the young man's arm and resorting to a trick he'd used before: rapid teleportation.

Fabrice might have been strong, fast, and mostly invulnerable... but he had an inner ear much like any baseline human did. Several bamfs into the rapid teleportation, he was reeling. A couple more, and he was collapsing, slumping down onto the grass, clearly dazed, all the fight gone out of him.

Kurt let him go, taking a wary step back and watching him, just to be sure the fight was over. "Are you ready to listen to us, now?" he asked calmly. "Your family are inside."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. His desperate gamble had paid off. He didn't want to think about what it might have taken to subdue Fabrice if it hadn't been for Kurt. "Keep an eye on him, Kurt," he said shortly. "If he moves again, bamf him a couple more times for good measure."

Heading back toward the house, he hoped everything was all right inside. The struggle with Fabrice hadn't taken much more than a minute or so. "Marie-Ange?" he called in the door. "Y'all all right in there? Fabrice is..." he took a quick look. "...resting."

Marie-Ange let out a quick soft snicker at the vague term that she was certain meant "Lying on the ground in a lot of pain." or some other such thing to that effect. "Other than broken china, and some cuts on Mr. Summers, we are fine." For certain values of fine, but physically they were, anyway. The rest could be dealt with later.

Scott relaxed a little - but only a little. "Eliane," he said, his head turning in the direction where he thought the girl was. He reached out his hand in that direction. "Why don't we go out and talk to him?" he suggested gently. "Now that he's... calmed down a little, you can tell him what you've decided."

Eliane looked from Scott, to the shattered china cabinet, to her still-shaken parents, and her jaw clenched as she proceeded to turn as red as her hair. "I will tell him more than that!" she finally declared and stalked towards the door.

Scott sighed. "Sam, follow her. Angie, time to play guide-precog."

~*~


Eliane comes out to talk to her brother, if by 'talk' one means 'tear strips off him with great gusto and consummate style'. Fabrice is very, very repentant. The elder Courchesnes are very sorry for not having been honest about the situation, but Scott realizes that Charles must have suspected something.


Eliane stomped all the way down to where Fabrice was just beginning to stir. "~Idiot!~" she shrieked at him. "~What were you doing? What were you thinking? You have the manners of a pig! A pig!~"

Fabrice blinked up at her. "~But, Eliane,~" he started to protest.

"~NO!~" she yelled at him, stomping her foot. "~You will be quiet and listen! I know it is difficult for such a pig but you WILL!~"

Kurt, standing nearby in case a few more bamfs were needed, watched the girl in amused respect, and didn't interfere.

Scott could hear Eliane ranting at the top of her lungs as Angie led him down to - well, actually, he wasn't absolutely positive where she was leading him, but she was murmuring quiet suggestions to him as to where to step and how the ground sloped. "Sam?" he asked. "Situation's stable here?" He couldn't see what Fabrice was doing, although his sister certainly wasn't letting him get a word in edgewise, snarling shrilly in French.

Fabrice was, as a matter of fact, still on his hands and knees on the grounds, looking very cowed. "~But Eliane, I only meant--~"

"~Silence!~" his little sister bellowed at him in a voice that could easily have carried across a battlefield. Her hands were tightly clenched at her sides, and there were, quite literally, sparks flying. "~Did you ask? Did you stop to ask before you blew Mother's guest into the china cabinet! You fool! You brainless ape!~"

Sam snorted lightly. "As stable as can be expected, Scott," he murmured softly, stepping close. "Eliane seems to have Fabrice well in hand, if ya ask me. It was touch-and-go there for a minute. If it hadn't been for Kurt, Ah dunno if Fabrice would have stopped until he pounded through my blast field."

Eliane proceeded to ruthlessly list all of Fabrice's personality flaws and how they had personally disappointed her on previous occasions. Her volume was impressive, as was the small shower of sparks that thankfully did not set the grass afire. Fabrice sat up and reached out to her imploringly; Eliane gave him a killing look and started to question his personal habits.

"Can we set her on Shiro?" Marie-Ange asked dryly. "Or Jubilee?" Really, at this point, she'd decided, she was better off just being amused. At a particularly colorful turn of phrase, she winced and shook her head. "I am -not- translating that. Or that. Or.. oh my." Eliane was definitely creative with language.

Fabrice abruptly burst into tears and grabbed his sister's hands, apparently heedless of the sparks, to beg her forgiveness. Eliane glared down at him, still obviously seething, and launched choice insults at him every time he stopped for breath.

Scott shook his head. "Of all the days to speak French," he muttered, but relaxed a little. "Kurt, will you go get my visor out of the plane, please?"

Kurt nodded, and the next moment he was gone in search of Scott's visor.

~*~

"We are so... terribly sorry," Dorianne said haltingly.

Scott mustered his best reassuring smile. "Madame Courchesne, you need to stop apologizing. No harm done, really," he said, turning his head to make sure that the others had indeed gotten Eliane aboard the Blackbird. Last-minute complications were not on, at this point. Dorianne had bandaged up the cuts he'd gotten from the glass - only a few and none of them particularly deep - and only stopped apologizing to take the occasional breath. He'd been very glad he'd sent Kurt and Sam to help Angie help Eliane get her things aboard the Blackbird. Benoit and his son had vanished into another part of the house to have what was probably going to be a very awkward father-son discussion. Wouldn't want to be a fly on the wall for that one...

Dorianne gave him a tremulous smile back. "We just... thought it was simple, this way. It was not a good choice," she said, shaking her head. "We should have at least told your Professor about how Fabrice felt."

Maybe they hadn't, but Charles had obviously suspected something, to have suggested to him that he take two other X-Men along. He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "No harm done," he repeated for about the fiftieth time in the last half-hour. "I'll make sure Eliane calls home once she's at the school and properly settled, all right? And you've got the rest of the contact info?"

"Yes. Thank you so much," Dorianne said gratefully. "You will look after her?"

"I promise."

~*~


On the plane back, Angie and Eliane bond a little, and Scott delivers a well-deserved 'good job' to all three of his teammates.


"Kurt," Scott said, coming back to where Kurt was relaxing in one of the passenger seats. He was moving a little stiffly, he knew that, but moving around was better than sitting there and stiffening up further. "Nice work today," he said quietly but appreciatively, laying a hand briefly on the other man's shoulder. "That rapid-teleportation trick of yours is one of the most useful things in the arsenal, I think."

Kurt looked round with a smile. "Thank you. I am rather fond of it myself - it allows me to win with no lasting damage done."

"No lasting damage," Scott said a bit wryly, his gaze shifting back to where Angie and Eliane were sitting, red heads togethers. "Except maybe to Fabrice's pride. You realize that we're going to get teased for bringing back yet another redhead. And this one can actually light things on fire with her temper more than just figuratively."

Kurt smiled. "I think she will fit into the mansion well. She knows what she wants."

"Pity we didn't nab her brother at an impressionable age," Scott grumbled, leaning back against the inside wall of the cabin. Ow. Definite bruises on his back. "He might have wound up a little less of an asshole."

"Or he might", Kurt said with a wry grin. "To be fair, though, he was simply concerned for her."

"Concerned and possessed of more than his fair share of the Gallic temper." Scott shook his head a little. "The parents looked so quiet. I wonder how they produced these two spitfires."

Kurt chuckled. "Appearances can be deceptive. I think they might surprise you, in the right circumstances."

"So I guess we call this a qualified success," Scott said, pushing away from the wall with a wince. Needed to keep moving, definitely. "One pyrokinetic redhead, safely on board. One very apologetic brother, and rather a lot of damage to their parents' house. I hope they take it out of his hide."

"More than qualified, I think, for us," Kurt objected. "We have done what we came here to do. We could not have anticipated that Fabrice would react as he did."

And the less said about my continuing failures as a diplomat, the better, Scott thought crankily. He was just going to stop trying to reason with people. There was a plan.

"Anyway," Scott said, a certain amount of false cheer in his voice, "I'm going to go check on our newest student. Make sure she and Angie aren't plotting anything." He managed a smile at Kurt. "Pass out the peanuts and announce the nonexistent inflight movie, all that... and don't look at me like that. I'm really not concussed."

~*~

"~My brother is a pig,~" Eliane declared, flinging her hair. The shy, nervous girl who'd come downstairs to meet them had apparently been left behind in France. "~I will tell him so every time I write or call him for a month. Maybe two months.~" She sniffed. "~And Mother and Father are foolish for allowing him to be so wild.~"

"~Brothers worry a great deal, or so I am told.~" Marie-Ange said, trying not to laugh. "~Sam, the blond who took your brother away from your parents' house has a little sister, and she would say the same thing about him.~" That Marie-Ange thought Eliane's brother was rude and over-protective was neither here nor there. She suspected the girl just wanted to vent, but encouraging her to be cross would not help matters any.

"~A pig!~" Eliane insisted. "~You saw! He could have injured Mr. Summers. And he broke all of Mother's good china!~" She sounded almost more affronted at that. "~I should have singed his foolish mustache off.~"

Maybe it was something about people who created or controlled fire, Marie-Ange though. They all seemed to have such tempers. Shiro, John, and now Eliane. "~Perhaps you can suggest that he replace the good china?~" She offered. She was not going to mention that Mr. Summers had gotten injured, even if it was only a few cuts. That might upset the girl more, and setting the plane on fire out of anger was not going to help matters any.

Eliane sniffed. "~He will,~" she said, and the deadly look in her blue eyes was impossible to argue with. "~He will, the donkey, or I will singe more than his mustache off the next time I see him. The cad!~"

"~Cad?~" Marie-Ange repeated questioningly. "~You know, other than Mr. Summers, I do not think anyone on this plane speaks French. You can call your brother a jackass if you like.~" Kurt might speak French. And Mr. Summers did, but even so, Eliane sounded like she needed to swear a little.

"He's a fucking asshole!" Eliane burst out. In English. Every head in the plane, including the blond one that was piloting, turned to look at her.

Now was not the time to burst out laughing. It was unprofessional. Also it would probably cause poor Eliane to die of embarassment. "I am certain no one is going to argue with you." Marie-Ange said quietly. "I will not. He threw my teacher into your mother's china cabinet." She grinned and glanced over at the adults. "You know, I had half the students convinced when I arrived that I did not use English swearwords? I think the first time I said "fuck", some of my classmates choked on their drinks."

"Is my English all right?" Eliane asked a bit hesitantly, some of the color fading from her cheeks. "I did very well in it in school. And some of Fabrice's friends are British, so I had practice at home.." Her expression darkened again at the thought of her brother. "~I do not want to be ridiculed. It makes me upset and then things start to burn.~"

"It is a bit better than mine was when I first arrived." Marie-Ange answered. "I kept forgetting the simplest words." She smiled, trying to be reassuring. "There is no chance anyone will laugh at you for fumbling over languages. A lot of your classmates do not speak English natively." And some of the ones who did still managed to mangle it.

"~I am not so worried now, Marie-Ange,~" Eliane said, lifting her chin a little and smiling. "~Thank you for telling me so much about the school. Only you left out certain things.~" At Marie-Ange's questioning look, Eliane giggled. "~Are there any cute boys there?~"

Marie-Ange couldn't remember if she'd asked that question on her trip here. Which had, now that she thought on it, been with Sam and Mr. Summers. It was funny how that worked out. "~More than a few, yes.~" She bit back her instinct to warn the girl off Doug. She knew better, and it would just make her look jealous and clingy.

~*~

Seeing that Eliane had settled and was staring out the window pensively at the Atlantic, Scott waved at Marie-Ange. "Come on," he said quietly. "Want to show you some of the equipment we carry on the jet." Really, he just wanted to check on her, but giving her the less-than-grand tour of the Blackbird was a good excuse.

"Will there be a quiz later?" Marie-Ange was finding it hard not to take the entire day with a grain of humour, now that everything was over and they were all on the way back, at least somewhat safely. Though, she hoped there would not be a quiz on the plane. She was still overwhemled by the pre-flight checklist she had seen Sam going over.

Scott chuckled softly as he led her back to the equipment locker towards the rear of the cabin. He'd show her all the goodies under the benches later, maybe. Some of those things Eliane didn't really need to know were here; it might lead to awkward questions that didn't need to be asked at this point. "Possibly," he said. "Depending on just how sadistic I'm feeling." As he reached up to open the locker, he winced as one of the cuts on his arm pulled a little. That one was probably going to need a stitch or two. "You seem to have calmed her down pretty effectively," he said more quietly, inclining his head at Eliane. "Remind me to take you along the next time we do this, too."

~Oh, it depended on how sadistic he was. Wonderful. ~ Marie-Ange shook her head briefly. This was the man who thought jogging at five in the morning was a good idea. There would definitly be a quiz. "I think she just needed to get out some of her anger. I would have needed to yell a bit myself." She looked over quickly at Eliane, who was looking out the window in much the same awed fashion that Marie-Ange had earlier in the day. "Shiro has the same temper, and John too. Quick to anger, quick to calm down and stop yelling. If she yelled about it, it seemed less likely that she might set one of us on fire."

"Good point. And burns on the upholstery would have had Haroun weeping and wailing, and we couldn't have that," Scott said with a tiny smile that might have been a smirk, had it been a little bigger. "So," he said, getting the locker door open. "Medical supplies in here - there's a second, larger supply of them in the cargo hold, along with some medical equipment." He touched another shelf. "MREs, for those times we're gone for more than several hours. Much better than the standard military type, by the way."

"Shiro might appriciate Haroun mourning for a few days. I think he's been worked very hard lately." Marie-Ange was again reminded of how -very- glad she was that Kylun was helping her with hand to hand combat, and not the tempermental Jetstream. "And also what does "Em" Er" "Ee" mean? I hear it, but I always forget to ask why the packaged food is called that."

"Meals Ready To Eat," Scott said, then opened up the other side of the locker. "Cold weather gear, just in case we wind up somewhere where we need a little extra insulation. Also, the trenchcoats," he said with a faint grin, careful to keep his voice very low. "To cover the leathers if we have to be out and about."

All that hard work to not burst out giggling and it was ruined. Utterly. Marie-Ange started at Scott for a moment, and then covered her mouth, trying to hide the giggles. "Remy has not seen those, has he?" She finally asked. "He will be so perturbed!"

"I wouldn't even care to hazard a guess," Scott said a little more cheerfully. "They're noticeable, mind you, but less so than if we weren't wearing them." He closed the locker again, vaguely satisfied at Marie-Ange's obvious good humor. She didn't seem shaken up at all. Not that he'd expected her to be. "Good work today," he said after a moment, and smiled.

Once the locker was closed, Marie-Ange could finally get the mental image of Mr. Marko wearing a Mr. Marko sized trenchcoat out of her head, and stop laughing. "Thank you.." The instinct to protest and claim that she hadn't really done very much was difficult to not give in to. "Panicing seemed like a very -bad- idea, and then when you were knocked out, I really did not have time to worry.."

"Doing what needs to be done under pressure is... well, what you're supposed to be learning to do." Scott gazed down at her for a long moment. "You keep proving that you can," he said simply.

Marie-Ange nodded slowly. "Thank you.." She said softly. After the debacle that had been her initial asking to be a trainee, she was determined to not make a fool of herself. Getting this kind of praise... it might carry her through another horrible Danger Room run, actually, she thought. Unless she fell in that pit again. That would just be embarassing.

~*~

Having spoken to Kurt, and checked on Eliane and Angie, the former of whom had settled down nicely after her minor outburst earlier, Scott headed back up to the cockpit, easing himself down into the copilot's seat. Sam glanced sideways at him, and Scott mustered a small, wry smile.

"I'm going to stop trying to reason with people. They have the nasty habit of turning around and trying to blow me up."

"But what's the alternative, Scott?" Sam asked seriously. "Just go in guns blazin' at anyone who might disagree with you? Do unto others before they do unto you? Ain't that what got Magneto put in a glass box?" He looked over at Scott for a moment from the controls.

"Seriously. We got everythin' settled, and nobody was hurt." He chuckled as he looked back to the controls. "Well, 'cept if you count Fabrice's pride. The way Eliane laid into him..." He shook his head.

"Now you're sounding like me." Or the way he should be sounding, at least. Well, he was allowed to be a little grouchy. "By the way, Sam," Scott said more seriously, "getting Fabrice out of the house like that? Good call. Once he'd gotten violent, getting him away from his family was a very sound tactical decision, and taking him outside gave you and Kurt more room to deal with him."

"Ah'm just glad Kurt was along," Sam replied honestly. "If it'd just been him and me, Ah wasn't too excited about my chances, seein' as he was invulnerable." He breathed out a sigh. "Ah'm glad my gamble paid off."

"The two of you did it just right," Scott said, nodding and then shifting, trying to get comfortable in the seat. His bruises weren't cooperating. "I ought to have you train together more, although you seem to follow each other's cues pretty smoothly."

Sam laughed. "Now, can you imagine if that'd been Haroun along? We'd've probably beaten each other to hell just tryin' to establish who was runnin' the show. Woulda saved Fabrice the trouble." He shrugged. "The way Ah see it, pretty much everyone deserves an 'attaboy'. Kurt and Ah managed to calm Fabrice down. Marie-Ange managed to keep her head real well and make sure you were all right. And you were polite enough to get knocked out so that Ah could fly the 'Bird home," he finished with a wink.

"You realize that it's because I love my plane that I'm not reaching across and throttling you right now, Guthrie. Since you're flying it and all," Scott grumbled half-heartedly. But his pride did sting, damn it. "You're right. Well-done, the lot of you." He shifted again, grimacing and picking at the bandage on his arm. "I think Eliane will do well at the school, too. We've taught enough fiery young women to control their tempers and their powers before."

"Like the one that's probably goin' to be in the Medlab bandagin' your cuts and bruises, not to mention your poor wounded pride?" Sam asked cheekily, with a smile to take the edge off of it. Having Jean back was still a miracle he thanked God for every day, and to see Scott and Jean try to piece together some of the happiness they had shared before was also a blessing.

Scott brightened a little. "She will, won't we? I need to practice my woeful look." He looked sideways at Sam, unable to help a laugh. "No one ever said I wasn't shameless, Sam."