Not So Plain Jane - Partying With the Wrong People

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Backdated to last Friday. Jane's running errands farther afield and still can't keep from running into people from her past. Too bad Remy's not going to get to remember the important bits.



"Seems you get invited to all de best parties, LeBeau."

"And yet I came to dis one, Arlen. No accounting for taste." Remy said flatly, ignoring the schools of richly dressed society that swirled around him and into the rich foyar of the Boudreaux estate. Arlen D'Armade smirked, handing over a glass of wine to Remy as they stepped out of the flow and found a quiet corner from which to watch the party.

The Boudreaux were the cream of New Orleans society, a family that dated it's involvement in the city back to the eighteenth century. It was rumoured that a Boudreaux ancestor had even married one of the daughter's of Jean Lafitte, enhancing their daring reputation. The reality was that the Boudreaux family was the defacto Assassins Guild in the complex family crime structure of New Orleans.

Each of the other guilds had their representatives here for the Assassin's annual party, mixed in with the rich and powerful of the city and state. Politicians, industrialists, and social mavens unwittingly rubbed shoulders with murderers, conmen and thieves. There was a certain wry amusement to it, Remy considered. He was here in the place of Tante Mattie, who needed to have a presence in the party even if just for a moment. The timing couldn’t have been worse, delaying him from getting to London as soon as he’d intended. Still, one does not say no to Tante easily.

Arlen, a scion of the Thieves Guild, had spotted him coming in and was the closest thing to a friend that LeBeau had in the room.

"So, are you looking for her?"

"Non." Remy shook his head. "She's still in Europe, on business."

"Keeping track?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"I'm smart enough to avoid that kind of trouble. I doubt you'll be wishing Marius the best before you go?"

"I don't think so." Remy allowed himself a thin smile at Arlen's quip. He was there to make an appearance, to underline Tante's position with the community. Then, a few hours sleep and a long plane ride. His leg already ached. Starting off blood feuds would definitely be considered poor taste. LeBeau swallowed the wine and left Arlen, heading for the open veranda to have a cigarette and get out of the room for a few minutes.

It was no secret that Shaw was starting to get twitchy about the newest addition to his court - no secret to her at least. Shaw's shields were good, and it would be hard to search his mind without him being aware, but Matthews? Tissue paper. So Jane knew why she was at this stupid function in the middle of a swamp, knew it was mainly just to get her out of the way for a while. Given how little interest Xavier's people were giving her life these days, it was just as well.

Didn't make the court regalia any more comfortable though.

She was out on the veranda, leaning against the railing, staring out at New Orleans. Filthy. New York was dirty, but it was a clean sort of dirt. A city sort of dirt.

The awkward footsteps behind her were ignored. Several of the party regulars had made their way out to the night air, in some cases to rest and in others to talk. Remy had just shaken off a Baptiste who was trying to get Tante's help for a political campaign he was masterminding, and limped heavily to the railing. One of the servers came over, and he accepted another glass of wine, using it to wash down a couple of pills before searching for his cigarettes.

"Dat's what happens when you check your coat." He muttered to himself, finally locating the pack in his inner jacket pocket. He pulled one out and lit it with his fingertip, drawing in a deep drag and blowing a smoke ring. His eyes briefly flickered over the rest of the veranda. Mostly players in New Orleans he knew, and a redhead with her back to him. LeBeau leaned heavily against the railing and let his eyes drift over the water and the lights of the city beyond.

Oh, well, this was awkward. Jane didn't want to deal with LeBeau. She'd spotted him earlier and while she hadn't been actively avoiding him, she'd been hoping. But that strange, disconnected, hard to read mind was familiar - she knew it had to be him even without turning around, but couldn't tell if he knew. And until she knew that, one way or the other, she was stuck here. Fuck.

Another ten minutes, he told himself. After that, he was free to leave. Remy swirled the wine absently in the glass. Now that was odd. One of the men moving through the crowd was familiar; Hellfire Club. He'd seen him during his visit to see Amanda. There was a rumour that the Boudreaux's were connected with them some how.

If they were working as agents for them, it would explain their expansion into Europe during the eighties. LeBeau filed the information away in his mind, considering the possibilities. The man had been a functionary of some type, as far as he could remember. That meant someone else was the real representative. Remy begin to scan the new faces, seeing if he could pick up any signs. A flash memory of Amanda's outfit came to him, but they wouldn't come in that kind of garb, would they?

Jane managed to catch the flash of Amanda, and while part of her was marveling at just how badly the girl looked in court garb, the rest of her was puzzling over whether or not he was thinking about Amanda, which was fine, or the Club, which was less so. And he was still standing between her and the doorway back inside. She couldn't turn around - if he saw her there was no escaping the conversation. She just had to wait.

She hated waiting.

Remy turned his gaze from the foyer to the veranda, and smiled. The redhead he'd spotter earlier was standing at the railing, the back of her outfit obvious in the black leather and straps. If anyone here was representing the weird old perverts of the Hellfire Club, it would be this one. He was about to back away into the party and see if he could dig up a name when he suddenly realized that it wouldn't necessary.

Six-inch stiletto boots, a black corset laced tighter than presidential security and enough skintight black leather to clothe a very small hamster. Inside of all that was Doctor Jean Grey. The only word to describe his reaction was 'boggle' as he tried to match up the facts.

Ah, well, that answered that question, and at least she didn't have to wait anymore. She'd sigh if she could breathe, but since she couldn't she settled for turning around and giving LeBeau a better look. "Why, hello there, Remy."

Cain said she'd left Scott. He didn't mention that she'd gone completely round the twist as well. Remy gave his head a slight shake, throwing off the momentary shock of finding her in the place the least likely.

"Doctor Grey. Been a few months, neh?" Remy lit another cigarette. Jean was a telepath, and the absence of the little tickle at the back of his neck meant she wasn't trying to pry her way into his head. He instinctively started the techniques learned both from the Agency and later at the mansion to keep his surface thoughts opaque. No sense giving her more information until he knew what was going on.

Her turn and stance had been a little too obvious, and he openly looked her up and down while taking the first drag off of the cigarette. It wasn't surprising that she'd use it. She'd always been an attractive leggy redhead. Poured into an outfit that looked like she was about to pop out of it at any time, the effects were devastating.

"Indeed it has," Jane agreed, smirking slightly as his eyes trailed over her. "Enjoying life here in the swamp? I'd hate it, I think, but it suits you."

"Kind of you to say. After more den fifteen years in Europe, you need a city wit' a little more class to it." It seemed that Dr. Grey was up for banter. Also, that she'd spent some time in the bitch transformer recently. "Speaking of a little more class, looks like you found you way out of de Cherryl Ladd collection and right to Helga's House of Discipline."

"How could you tell? And here's me without my riding crop. You must have stunning powers of observation."

"Not as much, but enough." Remy said, his mismatched stare odd in the flickers of light coming from the party behind them. "Heard dat you finally came to your senses and dropped de Boy Scout. De new outfit a celebration or a new career choice?"

"Bit of both," Jane said, smirking. "I was beyond tired of the old look and this seemed like an excellent chance to try something new."

"Well, don't listen to dem. De leather bondage queen thing never goes out of style, chere." Remy limped a little closer, leaning more heavily on the cane than he normally did. "So what did de Hellfire Club offer? World domination plus dental?"

Leaning back against the railing, Jane shrugged. "Mostly? They offered me a chance, an opportunity to get out and stop letting what other people want rule my life."

"You know, Jean, dat you could have done dat wit'out de Club. Remy read your file. Top in you class out of Columbia, interned under Essex and Conner at Johns Hopkins, spent three years in and out of DC as a specialist... you could have walked out of de mansion into any medical, political or consultant job wit' seven figures you wanted wit' one phone call." Remy stopped right in front of her, his mismatched stare meeting her cold green one. "But you went to de exact opposite of everything dat you once believed in. Dat, chere, is you trying to make a point more den 'getting out'."

There was a long silence on the veranda, only the light sizzle of Remy's cigarette as he drew deeply on it. Fun and games aside, Jean's move didn't make sense with the information that he had. That annoyed him. As well, she was using a line so rotten it was starting to stink. "So what's de real reason you down here, dressed like hot fuck on a Saturday night, representing de worst people dat money can make?"

Jane smiled slightly, a disarmingly charming smile. "Oh, I wouldn't even begin to pretend I wasn't making a point. Trust me, this has all been about making a point, although possibly not to who you would think. And trust me, also, it was, and is, about 'getting out', too, as completely as possible." There was a definitely earnestness to what she was saying, as though it was completely true, if not, perhaps, the complete truth.

"You sure you ready to play de bad guy, chere? Got to tell you, it not always de safest option." Remy folded his hands over the top of his cane. "De used to pay me to go after ones dat got out of hand. Maybe you making a point, but gambling you life to do it. Take Remy's advice. You want money, easy life, power? Dere's safer ways for dem dat you got access to. Remy even help set up de automatic mailer dat sends regular photos of you giving de finger to de Professor and de X-Men."

He leaned in closer. "But messing around wit' dis, eventually you going to have to start de killing to stay on top, and once dat's who you are, dere's no going back." Remy's eyes didn't change, or the slight smile he had been wearing, but his tone had slipped slightly from the casual mockery. There was an undertone of warning, and danger there. "And dat means, one day, either someone above you or someone who wants to be makes a call to people like Marius Boudreaux, and you lucky if you get to die painless."

Jane's smile didn't dim in the slightest. "Oh, Remy, you paint such an attractive picture of the future, how on earth could I pass all that up." Lowering her voice she leaned forward and said, "Feel free not to assume you know what I'm doing, LeBeau. Charles already played you on this one once."

"Funny, since in dat caper, what I'm guessing was your predecessor ended up 'missing'." Remy smiled back. "I hope you haven't taken out a twelve month lease or anything."

LeBeau tossed his cigarette out over the railing, and fished another one from the inside of his coat pocket. Whatever Jean was getting involved in, she was a big girl and could make her own decision. Remy lit the tip with his finger and straightened up slightly. "Well, I think dat Remy' fulfilled his required 'I warned you' statement to cover any possible guilt later on. You want to be de Club's tool instead of Xavier's, dat's you choice. But it's a joke if you think dat dis is getting out."

Jane nodded, looking vaguely bored. "Warning received, you're fully off the hook, and thanks ever so."

"Remy going to be sad at you funeral, chere. Dere might be tears and everything." Remy nodded to her, saluting with his cane before he turned and waved for his coat. He'd doublecheck with the mansion to make sure they knew about the new 'Black Queen'. Otherwise, it really wasn't his business.

Something was bothering him though. He'd worked intelligence long enough to know that MICE always applied when switching sides; Money, Ideology, Conscience or Ego. Jean Grey could have signed up for a position making a million dollars a year with a phone call, and her tastes had always been simple before. She had always preached at least a close version to the Professor's ideas. There were no skeletons in the closet. That left Ego. What made her suddenly want power so much?

Remy limped away, turning the thoughts over in his head, as much considering as avoiding having to look back on her in the room. Trying hard to be bad, completely out of her depth, and just waiting for everything to go wrong.

Jane waited until he had left, finding a quiet room and stationing one of her assistants at the door to keep from being interrupted. Remy was far too good to stop him from noticing if she actually followed him, but luckily, she didn't have to. There was no way he wouldn't mention this meeting to Xavier and the others, and Jane was not ready for that. Jane wasn't sure she'd ever be ready for that.

It took a moment's work to find his mind on the street - he was on his guard, of course, but that was to be expected. She'd have to be subtle. And it wasn't as though there was any harm in Xavier learning her 'business' brought her to New Orleans, only what that business was.

Now there was that tickle at the back of his neck. Remy's head whipped around. He didn't see Jean, or anyone else, but his powers were severely compromised by his injuries. It had to be her. None of the Guilds were suicidal enough to risk Tante's wrath over psychic attacks.

He gritted his teeth, bringing up the shielding that had been taught endlessly at LOST BOYS. He was hard to read, and fighting made it even worse. But he could already feel the cracks. Remy staggered against a post, and decided on a last ditch effort.

"Alright chere, you want inside Gambit's mind? You got it." Remy suddenly stopped all the techniques he'd been taught, concentrating solely on his memories. He couldn't stop Jean, but he might be able to force her out before she could do what she wanted. A flood of his past surged up like a dark wave; a litany of pain and death.

Getting in through his shields was hard, but the sudden dropping of his shields caught her off guard and Jane wasn't prepared for the onslaught of horror that flashed into his mind. She understood at once what this was - the memories of his life that he carried around with him all the time - and for a second almost felt sorry for him. Erasing his memory, taking this away from him...

But no, he meant to hurt her, was giving her this as a poisoned present, still trying to stop her. And she would not be stopped.

With his shields down it was easier, although the continuing waves of memories were painfully distracting in their vividness. But in a moment she found the memory of tonight, shifting it slightly, changing her outfit, the words spoken, the meaning behind them. The knowledge of who she was working for gone, all that was left was to provide an explanation that he might believe for why she was poking around in his head in the first place. But fighting through the attrocities of his past was too much, her concentration was slipping and she knew she had to end the contact before it overwhelmed her.

Remy sagged, holding on to the post as what felt like fire sleeted through his head. Any moment it would... be fine. Remy blinked and looked around. What had-Jean. The obvious thought transmission hung in his head; an image of her giving the finger with 'To Professor X with love' on it. Remy snorted, wondering what the hell was up with that girl.

Leaving Scott, dressing up like she was selling it, and then taking a random party invitation in New Orleans? LeBeau was glad he'd been able to slip a word to D'Armade to make sure she didn't end up working in a brothel by the end of the night. He guessed this was her little goodbye. Didn't she know he was trained? She could have ended up with a head full of bad news in return for her joke.

Remy sighed and headed back towards his apartment. He was on an early flight to London, and still needed to gather the rest of the information he'd need from his files. Last thing he needed was Jean's new life crisis on top of it.

Jane staggered as the contact ended, collapsing into a near by chair, her mind still filled with the horror of his memories. She felt like she was going to be sick, but there was no bathroom attached to this room and she couldn't show weakness like that. Fighting back the bile she concentrated on simply breathing in and out, focusig on anything other than what he'd given her.