Mark & Remy, backdated to Monday afternoon

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Should've been posted yesterday. I lose. Remy goes to give Mark a Christmas present, and is as bleak about X-Force's lifespan as usual.


"I see dat you're still drinking." Remy said, sidestepping the collection of bottles by the door in Mark's new room. The younger contingent had decided to deal with their enforced holidays together by almost solely chemical means (a route that the senior staff has also persued, but with less giggling) and the build up of empty bottles was starting to get critical.

Remy had ended up drawing Mark's name out of the gift list, but for his own reasons, wanted to do things privately. There was the occasional shriek of laughter from Wanda to make them all wince, no one wanting to find out what she and Sarah were finding so funny.

The younger man looked in a half dozen, glass propped on his chest were he lay on the couch, ubiquitous iPod speakers turned right up.

"'Dirty baaaaabe. You see these shackles, baby? I'm your slaaaave,'" sang Mark, his voice unable to reach Justin Timberlake's eunuch-like falsetto. "'I'll letcha whip me if I misbehaaaave. It's just that no one make me feel this waaaaay.' Take it to the chorus, Remy!"

Remy's wry look conveyed that the possibility of him suddenly breaking out into song was about in the same range as a meteor striking them both at that exact moment. "Pull de headphones out of your brain for a second. I need to talk to you."

"Sure thing, boss." Mark's expression sobered a bit (though his eyes were still red and unfocused) as he carefully sat up and removed the earbuds. "What's up? We allowed out yet?"

"Non. At least a couple more days until Moira gets de results back. No way to speed dat one up." Remy hooked a chair with his foot and sat down. "In de meantime, I wanted to talk to you 'bout you role here."

"Talk about buzzkills. Alright." Half-full bottle of beer and iPod put aside, Mark took a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate. "So this week I'm a dealer and an enabler, but usually I'm the guy who makes things go boom. And apparently try to sleep with independent contractors."

"To a limited level of success on dat last one. Plus, don't let our President know. She a fast hand wit' dat psi-knife." Remy nodded. "But I'm talking large, Mark. You've been in de field by now, and you've seen de body counts. More importantly, you should know dat it's very unlikely dat dis time next year, all dese people here now are still going to be alive. Have you honestly sat down to think 'bout dat?"

"Are you always this pessimistic or is it just because it's Christmas?" Mark had thought about it, of course, but usually stopped himself before going too far. He had no doubt about the importance of their work and the more he did, with Silver and Snow Valley as well as X-Force, the more he was willing to sacrifice himself should no alternatives arise. He'd learned that after the misadventure in Tennessee. But that didn't mean that he'd indulge in such a train of thought often. "Look, you've given me The Speech a hundred times before and my answer's the same. Are you trying ta tell me something by repeating yourself so much?"

"Oui. I'm trying to show you exactly what you're into. Pete, Sarah and I put twenty soldiers into de ground in China. De way we spread out, next time dat might be your job, Mark. One day, we're going to ask you to kill. And you're likely going to watch someone you work wit' die right in front of you." Remy said seriously. "I don't doubt your commitment, Mark. But de things we've done dis year? It's been de easy stuff so far."

Mark was quiet for a moment to give him time to think through the blur. "Look, Remy. You guys've shown me the much darker side of the mutant world. My people. I might joke about my family and all that shit, but I'll protect my own. All of mutantkind. No one has the right to take our freedom away, and you can be damn sure that I will fight to the death for us."

"Hmm." Remy made a non-committal noise as he reached into his pocket. "One day, de possibility exists dat you going to change you mind on dat. Believe me, after some of de things I've seen, I'd considered doing de same thing. Once inside dis life, it's very hard to get back out."

He pulled out an index card and flipped it to Mark. On the back of it was taped a small key. "Harder even to try and explain why you need to do it. Not mention de possibility of having to get out and hidden fast if things go savagely wrong."

Mark reached for the card and examined the key. "We won't really know unless the situation comes to that, don't we. What is this, a cyanide capsule?"

"It's a way out, although not quite dat dramatic." Remy smiled thinly. Only the movies had cyanide capsules. A good agent needed to believe that they could escape after all. "De address on de card is a small bank in upper Manhattan. De key opens a lockbox in your name. Inside, dere's money, new and totally clean identification, and de names of a few key people dat can help you erase you tracks while disappearing."

He regarded Mark levelly. "I know dat I can trust you, Mark. You not going to be bought out by someone 'gainst us, or decide to throw in wit' Magneto. So if you ever disappear, I know and understand why."

"You'd come looking for me." Mark smiled up at Remy. "You'd miss me too much. This place just wouldn't the same without me, and you'd be all the poorer for it."

"If I had to come looking for you, de last thing you'd ever want is me finding you." Remy got up from the chair. "Everyone deserves de chance for a normal life if dey decide it's what dey really want. Just keep dat in mind, homme."

Mark stuffed the key into his pocket and sat back down. He'd find a secure place to store it later, when he could actually think straight. "Merry Christmas to you, too."