xp_logs | Log: Remy/Ororo

As mentioned, Remy goes to Wakanda to find Ororo and proceeds to prove that he still has a great capacity for pure stupidity.

"Excuse me." Ororo smiled apologetically at the woman she had just
jostled – the drinks table was a busy place, and she had been a bit
too distracted while waiting for her glass to be refilled. Once she
had it in hand she immediately stepped away, making room for the next
thirsty guest and casting her gaze back out over the room. Much to her
delight she recognized more people than not – this was because of both
her own obsessive reading about the goings-on in the area and the
introductions that had been made earlier in the evening – and had
already picked out several more people that she wanted to meet before
the night was over.

Program director for Global Rights… defense attaché at the Rwandan
Embassy… Remy? The silver-haired woman blinked, sure she was
mistaken. But no, the longer she looked at the well-groomed man in the
tuxedo the more she was convinced that if it was not Remy, it was his
not-evil twin brother come to fool her. What in the world is he
doing here?

For LeBeau, the transformation was not purely cosmetic. Working
through the crowds his body language was entirely different; he acted
as sure and comfortable as though he'd been born to this world, moving
easily between the guests, stopping to talk and mingle. Remy was
almost always in some state of dishevelment, thanks to both his job
and what some suspected was an intentional comfort with his stubbled,
wrinkled image. In the finally tailored Armani, hair neatly styled and
clean shaven, LeBeau looked not much older than some of her students;
a young man in his twenties.

For his part, Remy was moving on instinct. In his days as Gambit,
these sessions were vital to his job. Being about to move through this
social strata and be accepted as one of it opened up intelligence
assets and opportunities. Today, it was just to give him the excuse to

find Ororo without causing a scene. He'd caught sight of her earlier,
seeing her exchange a familiar touch with T'Challa. The ruler of
Wakanda had shown a relaxed and obvious appreciation for her beauty,
the kind of thing that new lovers exchanged, making him wonder if he
might be too late.

Still, he'd committed to this. If he was very lucky, the insanity of
the last several weeks hadn't completely driven her away yet, and if
there was any chance of getting her back, he had to try. Adjusting the
gold rimmed glasses, part of his disguise, which would have shocked
anyone back at the Center to have faced looking into his now blue
eyes, Remy detached himself from an animated conversation about the
new Pan African trade initiative and made a beeline for T'Challa.

T'Challa had been conferring quietly with a Wakanda army officer who
had slipped in the side door with news on the transit plans for Moses
and the other mutant prisoners. Satisfied by what he'd heard, he
dismissed the man with a few words of thanks and then turned, looking
around for his guests of honor.

Remy paused in front of T'Challa, looking for all the world as just
another guest drawn over to him by the natural ebb and flow of the
party. Inside, Remy was mentally sizing up the other man, and the
words were coming out underlined and not in his favour. T'Challa was
at least five inches taller than Remy, and half again as broad, from
his massive shoulders down. He wasn't sure if they used the term
'King' here, but the press did, and the man's presence, even
discounting the sheer physical stature, was impressive. He seemed
calm, controlled and confident in himself.

In other words, everything Remy was not, and never could be. Also, the
kind of man that Ororo certainly could find herself with. Grudgingly,
his lizard brain coughed up an admission of resentment at the sheer
size of the man, and if the rumours were true, T'Challa was a mutant
as well. Tonight could end with LeBeau getting his arms pulled off.
Still, he had to try.

"Good evening... I'm sorry but I don't know how to address you, sir."
Remy said, his accent slightly hinted with German, as matched the
identity on the invitation he'd acquired.

T'Challa gazed down at him for a moment, measuringly, and then smiled,
the expression professional yet warm at the same time. "Good evening,"
he said gravely in return, correctly assuming that the stranger knew
who he was. "'T'Challa' will suffice. I use my tribal title only among
my own people. And you are...?"

"LeBeau." His name wouldn't be on the guest list, but he didn't need
it to be. The fake invitation was to get him through the door, and
T'Challa wouldn't be able to track him down by his name even if things
went wrong. "I have a friend here at the party, and I thought I'd drop
by. See for myself what Wakanda had to offer."

T'Challa's smile didn't alter, but the look in his eyes turned
measuring again. "That's a very Western sentiment, Mr. LeBeau, if you
will pardon my bluntness."

Remy gave a non-committal shrug, not impolite but obviously not
concerned with the response. "There's always a factor of finding what
you want, T'Challa. Doesn't matter if you're Western or African. And
when you find what you want, it gives you a reason to fight for it,
neh?"

"My uninvited guest has a taste for philosophy," T"Challa said,
amiably enough. "I find actions speak louder than words, Mr. LeBeau."
He gestured around at the party. "My guests of honor tonight are
testament to that."

"I don't know. There are times that actions can get you into trouble,
T'Challa. Especially if you have all this, and trying to get more, end
up taking from someone with nothing left to lose." Remy said, not
making a threat, but obviously making his stand. "That tends to come
back on you, hypothetically speaking."

"Hypothetically speaking, I think perhaps you have been enjoying the
refreshments more than you should have, my friend."

Remy bristled. "Hypothetically speaking, why don't you go and--"

"Remy!" Ororo glided in as if borne on the air currents themselves,
placing herself somewhat between the two men and laying a hand on the
Cajun's arm. "I see you and T'Challa have met. It is a surprise to see
you here, otherwise I would have made the formal introductions
myself." She gave T'Challa a smile which grew a little sharper as she
turned it on Remy. "I hope you will both forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive, Ororo," T'Challa said, that keen dark
gaze flickering from her to Remy and then back again. "I believe I
understand." His smile was very slightly wry. "I will perhaps find my
mother, to compliment her on her arrangements for tonight, and allow
you some time to speak to your friend alone."

"Thank you. Please give her my regards as well."

As soon as T'Challa had disappeared Ororo turned to Remy, her hand tightening just slightly on his arm. "Remy, what are you doing here? And what was the meaning of that... display? I can hardly imagine T'Challa has made Snow Valley's list of suspicious persons."

"Non, he-uh... I mean dat Remy-" At least his familiar Cajun accent was back, even with the disconcerting blue eyed stare that his disguise caused. "Uh... I think dat I just made a fool of myself."

It took a second for the meaning of Remy's words to register and when they did Ororo didn't know whether to look horrified or amused. "So this is not work-related, then?" she asked carefully, schooling her expression to gentle curiosity.

"Remy only wish... I-" He actually hung his head. "Well, at least Remy got a perfect record wit' screwing things up since May. I thought- when you didn't come back wit' de team, and dey said you decided to stay a few extra days, I thought dat you had maybe decided dat after everything dat I did to you, dat you were going to leave. And I came here to--"

Remy stopped, rubbing his face. "I don't even know what I thought dat I could do. Turns out dat I just insulted de leader of a country who's party I've just illegally made my way into."

"Not to mention worried your girlfriend half to death... Remy, you actually thought I was leaving?" Ororo frowned, dropping her hand back to her side and drawing the shuka more closely about her. "That I would do that to you without saying a word? I understand why you might think that, but I would never. You must believe that." The look she gave him was earnest, if a bit guarded.

"I know. I-- I really haven't been myself lately." He sighed. "I mean, really. It's... uh-- difficult to explain."

"I believe now would be a good time to try."

"Dis might not be de place." Remy said, looking around. In the middle of a large party with hundreds of dignitaries did not do much for his comfort levels.

The woman just stared at him, obviously confused. "Then you came all this way to do what?" she asked finally, spreading her hands before her in a helpless gesture. "The last time I tried to talk to you, it sounded as if you were in the middle of planning a war. And now when we are actually face-to-face you say it is not the right place to explain what compelled you to come here, and why you have been so absent? How much longer must we wait until things are 'right'?"

"I came here because I thought I'd lost you, and if I could-- merde, I don't know. If I came den maybe I'd have a chance to get you back. I could make up for... " Remy's discomfort was obvious, writ across his face and in every movement. "I could somehow make what happened better. But I don't know how to do it."

"Remy..." At this Ororo's face softened, and she reached out once again, this time taking his hand in hers. "I think we both know we cannot change what has happened. What we can do is work on what has not yet happened."

"Dat's part of de problem. I thought I had figured out what de right thing to do was. And when dat turned out to be wrong, de only other thing I understood was de exact opposite." He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand, reassuring himself that she was here. "I screwed up, 'Ro. Almost too much to come back from."

"And yet you are still here. We all make mistakes. I know how hard it is not to blame yourself for them, but sometimes that is all there is."

"And you're still here?"

"So it would seem," Ororo replied with some degree of amusement, squeezing Remy's hand. "That is to say: Of course I am. Just because I decided to go on this trip does not mean I have changed my mind about you and I. Only that I wished to visit Africa while I had the opportunity."

"I know. It's just... after everything happened, the look in you eyes-- and den we kept missing each other and it all kept building... basically, Remy an idiot."

"Yes, he is." There was nothing but complete agreement in her voice, though if he decided to look up at her face her expression was still kind. "But I have been my own kind of idiot, so I think that neither one of us can be blamed too strongly for this. I thought if I gave you the space you needed it would allow you to work out your problems for yourself. As I tried to do on my own, too. But now.." Ororo gave a sigh, her tone growing more speculative, "I think perhaps that is the wrong way to do things. What is the point of being together if we cannot rely on one another in our times of need?"

"It's hard, 'Ro. It's so easy to let things twist up; to go back to what you know simply because when you miserable, you at least know what to expect, neh?" He finally met her eyes again. "Remy not used to needing someone. And I'm pretty sure dat I need you. Enough to threaten a king who looks like he can beat me to death wit'out breaking a sweat in order to try and keep you."

"T'Challa israther formidable," Ororo replied solemnly, though a moment later she was smiling again and pulling him in for a kiss.

"Not fair to tease the shell of a man, you know." Remy muttered, before her lips met his, and all thought went away for a little while.

When they finally pulled back Ororo was still smiling, and then she reached up to remove the glasses that were part of his disguise. "How long are you here for?" she inquired, folding the spectacles and tucking them into his jacket pocket. "My flight was supposed to leave tomorrow, but now that you are here perhaps I could extend my vacation a few more days… seeing as the first half was anything but relaxing."

Remy slipped an arm around her. "Dere's a pile of work waiting for me, and I should make it up to de rest of de centre for de six weeks of hell I dropped on dem..." He paused and touched just his fingertips to her back, sliding them slowly along the muscle. "But I think dey might understand if I take a couple of days to get back. You might need to be de one to ask T'Challa though."

"I would be glad to," she said, leaning into him for just a moment. It seemed a rather anticlimactic ending to a harried couple of months, but they were adults, weren't they? And though they had smoothed over a few of the rough spots, there was still plenty to be talked about. Won't Nathan be pleased to know I am finally taking his advice. Pleased, or perhaps just smug. "I am glad you are here, Remy. There is no one I would rather share this evening with."