Remy and Jake, lunchtime

[x-courier.livejournal.com]

Jake makes his not-so-triumphant return, and Remy threatens to cut off bits of him. Just like old times.



Remy heard that they were talking about banning smoking in public parks in New York, an action that made him wonder what the point was. He'd worked once with a chemical weapons engineer, who had been discussing how to maximize lethal exposure to chemical or biological agents, and the very first rule was that you need a contained area to have any level of effect. Gas attacks in open areas only worked out of sheer volume, which meant to get any effects of second hand smoke while sitting around the boating pond in Central Park, you'd need to wear a gas mask with the airways hovering directly over a smoker's mouth. LeBeau decided on a more common reason; the world was out to get him.

Those were the kinds of idle thoughts that kept him from wondering about the cryptic message that had eeled its way through their network and to his office. The code words were a little odd, and it came down a mostly defunct channel from his CIA enabled days, but the message had been clear. Meet at this location at noon. Urgent. Remy tapped out another cigarette and lounged against the stone bench, eyes flickering from person to person that went by, trying to figure out exactly whom he was meeting.

Jake shuffled a paper bag from one hand to another, then ran the free hand through his hair, keeping busy so he wouldn't check his watch for the forty-ninth time. He hated waiting. Almost as much as he hated the nerves that had him scouting the boating pond a full thirty minutes ahead of time. Almost as much as he hated the fact that while he'd been waiting for Remy to sneak up and scare the pants off of him, the ex-assassin had casually strolled up to the requisite park bench and flopped down, looking for all the world like he was simply looking for a quiet place to have a lunchtime cigarette.

He pushed his hand through his hair one last time, then started up the walk towards Remy, taking care to choose a path that would bring him into Remy's line of sight before he got close. Not that he thought he was capable of it, but the last thing Jake wanted to do was startle the other man. He strolled casually towards the bench, breaking out into a grin and holding up the bag when Remy's red-on-black eyes locked on him.

"If these aren't the best cannoli you've ever had outside of Sicily, I'll eat my hat," he said cheerfully, dropping down on the bench. He held the opening of the bag towards Remy. "Take your pick. They're not even poisoned or anything."

"I already ate." Remy said, ignoring the bag. Gavin. It figured. Only Jake would use the single worst and slowest way to contact him first, as opposed to just picking up the damn phone. "Don't remember needing any information dat I was going to threaten out of you, and unless Betts has decided to muscle in on my fun, you here on you own, homme."

LeBeau gave the man a calculating look. "So, all dat Remy can think is what has Jake gotten himself into dis time, neh?"

Jake shrugged at Remy's refusal. "You really don't know what you're missing." He fished a pastry out of the bag and took a bite, oblivious to Remy's impatient look. "First of all," he started, licking a glob of cream from his finger, "just because you don't know the information's out there, that doesn't mean you don't need it." He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully, trying to pretend he didn't notice the other man's glare. "Second, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you, right?" He finished off the first cannoli and reached into the bag for another. "Which is my way of saying I really hate it when you're right. So. Do you want the good news, the bad news, or the truly weird news?"

"Homme, Remy always considered you de bad news." LeBeau said with a bit of a sigh. There were many things about Jake that Remy was happy to abuse, but despite appearances, the younger man was not a fool. He survived in a world every bit as dangerous as the one that Gambit had, and that wasn't something you accomplished without learning from every encounter and event. If he was here, it meant there was something going on, and Jake was smart enough to choose who to take it to.

"Alright, shoot. Tell me what de hell is going on, in any order dat makes you happy."

"You say the sweetest things," Jake said mildly. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the irony of the fact that he could control every damn cell in his body yet still wasn't able to untie the knot in the pit of his stomach. "Okay. The good news," he started, favouring his former boss with his most winning smile, "is that I am now available for hire on a full-time, permanent basis. The bad news," he continued, plunging on before Remy could say anything, "is that Infonet has decided to move in a new direction, one that doesn't involve anyone named Jacob Gavin. And the really weird news is that in the middle of all of this, someone decided they needed to steal my arm."

He paused, realising that he'd leaned forward and started waving his hands around, and forced himself to slouch back onto the bench.

"What? You lost an arm?" Remy said, watching both of Jake's hands flitter nervously. "What de hell happened, Gavin?"

"I didn't lose it, it was stolen," Jake shot back. He started picking at the pastry in his hands, decimating it, letting the flakes fall to the ground and scatter. "Sorry. I haven't really slept for the last three days." He realized what he was doing to the cannoli and dropped the remains back into the bag. "I was making a delivery, and the client I was delivering to attacked me and cut off my arm. It...it was weird. They didn't seem all that interested in me once they had my arm. And..." He took a deep breath, knowing how ridiculous this all sounded. "I think they did something to it."

Remy rubbed his eyes tiredly. "If dey cut off you arm and left you alone, den obviously dat was de target." He'd need to make a call to Muir, and see if Moira could shed some light on what, if anything, someone could do with samples of Jake's genetic material. They'd run across people harvesting mutant organs before, but limbs? That was a new one on him.

"Who were dese people, and I thought dat Infonet had mercs on retainer to handle dis kind of, well, breach of contract?"

Jake sighed. "Damn. I was really hoping you would tell me I was being paranoid." He shrugged. "I was making my last delivery on this big contract I had--New Son. They've been running me ragged for a year now, although I haven't had any problems until this. And while Infonet has the necessary resources, so to speak, they don't seem all that interested in what happened to a now-ex-employee." He waved a hand in the air absently, eyes fixed on a duck that had just landed in the pond. "Let's just say I don't have any faith in my sister's promise that she'll look into it."

"Infonet fired you? You are having a bad week." Remy said, grimly. Suddenly the pieces were starting to make sense. He'd heard that the company had been shaking itself up internally, but never imagined that Jake would find himself on the wrong side of the family business.

"So, let me get dis straight. You had an arm cut off for reasons dat you not aware, got shut out of de family business, and now find youself wit'out allies trying to hide out in New York to figure things out. Dat 'bout sum it up?"

The wounds were fresh enough that Remy's blunt summation made Jake's guts twist again. "They bought out Dad and I both, but yes, that about sums it up. I mean, it's not like I don't still have connections, but..." He smiled weakly, trying to joke but not quite having the energy for it. "It says something that you're the only person I could think to call."

Remy sighed. It was like Gavin was a curse that had been inflicted on him for his past sins. Infonet transitioning out of the resource column was bad enough, but now hints of some larger conspiracy in the works all but forced them to check things out.

"Right, we going back to de office. I need to talk to Wisdom and Betts. While I'm doing dat, you going to sit down wit' my people and walk dem through everthing dat's happened in de last year step by step. I want to make sure we have a full picture of what's going on before we do anything." Remy stood up and straightened his trenchcoat. "Until we know what we're dealing wit', we'll stash you at de brownstone. Let anyone know you location, get fancy wit' our security, and dat mysterious group won't be de only ones possessing cut off bits of you."

Jake glanced up at him. "Wow, that almost makes me nostalgic." He stood up and stretched, scratching idly at a stubbled cheek, half-afraid that Remy would change his mind if they didn't get moving. "Don't worry. I can keep a secret. I am--was--very good at my job. Besides, I could use a vacation."

"You think dis going to be a vacation, homme?" Remy said, lacing doubt into the situation. "Until we figure out how to deal wit' dis, you might as well make youself useful."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Jake sighed. "Lay on, MacDuff, et cetera."