xp_logs | Rachel & Remy finally meet [backdated like... whoa]

x-eidolon.livejournal.com posting in

Tired of waiting for Stuff to happen, Rachel ambushes Remy outside his apartment looking for answers, help, and maybe a little bit of comfort. To some extent, she gets what she wants.

Seated in the car with the engine off, Rachel wrapped her jacket tighter about her shoulders, huddling into the seat as she counted the people that drove by. Traffic was getting heavier as evening fell and she knew she ought to return to the mansion, or at least to Angelo’s stupidly comfortable couch. But the heaviness of her heart, which was situated somewhere in the region of her stomach, kept the teenager where she was.

After … convincing Fred to hand off one of his cars to her, the redhead had driven aimlessly around town, marveling at the thriving city with an oddly detached interest. Somehow or another, on something a little darker than a whim or fancy, she eventually found herself parked outside the Brownstone – a place that she had toyed with the idea of visiting for several weeks now, but never quite raised enough gumption to drop in on. That was, however, irrelevant now.

In her rearview mirror, an unmistakably familiar figure approached the entrance to the apartments, trenchcoat shifting as he walked. Relief? Hope? Trepidation? A feeling which she could not hope to subdue welled up within her. Without hesitation, Rachel slipped out the car, locked it and beat him to his destination, the only hint of her nervousness clenched fists she kept concealed in the pockets of her coat.

"Oui, petite?" Remy stopped as the red-headed girl suddenly appeared.

“Rachel,” she said simply, seeking his two-toned gaze with her own. “I kinda need your help, bel homme.”

"I think dat you need to qualify dat." Remy said, pulling up short.

“Did Charles Xavier even tell you that I’m here?”

Remy let out a breath. "He said dat you were different, but dat was it." He'd considered challenging Xavier regarding it, but it seemed easier to agree.

“Sure, m’different,” she agreed darkly, making a mental note to have words with the old bald guy. Rachel arched a brow and raised her arms, still in fists, spreading them outwards. “Different as in not six, perhaps.”

"Said dat you were from 'nother world. Looking for Xorn. Wouldn't tell me why." Remy said carefully, regarding the young girl like one would a possibly trap. Remy had experience enough magic to understand the idea of other dimensions being real, but confronted with Rachel, he had trouble separating her from the one that they had lost. He could see the features of the girl in this young woman. There was also something off about how she moved. His exceptional spatial awareness made him remarkably adept at reading things in a person's movement, and there was something so familiar in her, although he couldn't put a finger on what exactly.

Used to the wary regard, Rachel cocked her head at him and slipped her hands back into their respective pockets of warmth, subconsciously mirroring Remy’s stance. “If you can locate Xorn, I will tell you why.”

"Dat's not how it works, petite. Dere's 'bout a thousand priorities on my list right now ahead of finding a man dat may not want to be found. Especially since Remy and others risked dere lives so dat he could disappear if he wants to. I told Xavier if any rumours came up in de process of our work, Remy pass dem on. But I'm not going to commit people and resources on something dat I don't know de whole story 'bout. No matter who you look like." Remy said, demolishing any thoughts that this was a negotiation where she'd get to set her terms.

But the girl merely gave him a bland look and a toss of her head which told him how little she felt about that. "That's all right. M'not asking you to search for him, per se. M'asking you to help me find him."

Rachel sighed, casting a glance down the street. She should have known better than to expect... Well, she wasn't quite sure what she was expecting. But hope springs eternal.

Regardless, she didn't want to continue to sit around the mansion doing absolutely nothing while she waited, and waited, and waited without knowing whether anything was being done about it at all. She gazed at Remy, steeling herself against the heartache of having already lost hers, and there was no denying the plea behind those striking eyes despite her otherwise blank expression and even tone. With her forehead still creased, she dropped her messy jumble of accents. "I understand that you have no reason to trust or help me. And this shouldn't have anything to do with who I - or you - look like. But I'm willing to tell you more than Charles Xavier has, for you to know why I need to do this. In fact, I'm willing to tell you everything. All I'm really asking for is some information on Xorn."

Remy gave her a long, measuring look, unaware that it was a look that she was very familiar with, and finally sighed. "Think dat you better come inside. Dis is not a discussion for de middle of de street." He motioned her to follow, easily climbing the steps to the door and unlocking it. The security guard in the front gave him a nod, but Remy barely noticed. As part of their security process, the guards were changed regularly, so none of them had any time to learn and wonder about the comings and goings of the people living in the building.

Ororo had mentioned she had some things to do this evening, so their home would be empty. That was probably best, he thought, considering that he alone had too many questions to organize and have answered in a reasonable amount of time. Compounding it would be worse. He opened the door and waved her inside.
She stepped in, light on her feet and gaze darting about the apartment, mapping it out in her head even as she waited for the other mutant to lead the way in. It seemed like Remy had a living companion. A human and very female housemate, to be exact. Rachel found herself with a small smirk to her lips despite herself, already betting that a certain African goddess had stuck around.

"Sit." He pointed to the couch as he tossed his trenchcoat on to the rack. Remy took the seat opposite, fingers cross and his elbows on his knees, a pose she'd seen a million times. "Alright, what's so important dat you need to find Xorn?"

“I need to save my world,” she said, then paused as she considered the dramatics of the statement she had just made. “In my dimension, Apocalypse is in power and he’s just about succeeded in taking over half the world. Every and all of the measures taken and attempts to stop him and take him down have failed. Our strike forces have recently been irrecoverably crippled and now the human leaders have decided that if we cannot stop him, they will go kamikaze on us. Nuclear-style.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Rachel crossed her legs and leaned in towards him, expression determined but voice still earnest. “My mission was to use my power to break through the dimensional bonds to come here, seek help and return to my world to retrieve a lost weapon that can take Apocalypse down. Coming here deteriorated my powers. Now only Xorn has the ability to break the dimensional bonds to send me – and whoever is willing to help – back home. To save it. To save my world.

“So while I know you have bigger matters and more pressing issues to handle, I don’t. This is literally my entire world, Rem.” She shook her head. “I can’t just sit and wait while you and Charles Xavier put it on the back burner.”

Remy was silent for a long moment, his oddly coloured gaze burning into hers. He got up and plucked a bottle from the sideboard and a pair of glasses. A healthy measure of bourbon went into each, and he slid one over.

"Back up. Why me? Why do you think dat I can help?”

“Because you’re Remy LeBeau,” she said simply. “I researched. You run de clandestine operations of de X-Force. And more importantly, you helped Xorn disappear.”

There was something in her guardedness that, to Remy’s discerning gaze, gave away the fact that there were less practical reasons involved in her decision-making process. Her subconscious adoption of his accent, however, seemed like the most natural thing in the world even if she was eyeing the glass of bourbon like it was a snifter full of potentially lethal poison.

Remy odd coloured gaze skewered her. "Not bad. You obviously been taught to lie by a professional. Dis would be a bad time to think dat it will work against me." He took a sip. "You're certain dat I can do dis if I agree to. It's in you voice and you body language, despite you trying to hide it. Dat doesn't come from research, petite"

She huffed and rolled her eyes in a show of exasperation, refraining from tossing something at his face like she might have if he weren't looking at her like the complete stranger she was.

"One, I am not lying. Two, you were de dumbass professional dat taught me how to lie. So if I really were lying, I think dat I'd be less obvious about it, ya?" Rachel snatched up her glass and peered into it, conveniently avoiding his disconcertingly familiar stern gaze. "Let's just say dat dis lie you refer to is a result of my research, coupled with dis stupid irrational belief dat you're as capable as de Remy I know." The redhead arched a brow at the man, with a stubborn lift of her chin. "Is Rachel wrong?"

His gaze narrowed. "So dat was what you were hiding." He had taught her? That was unexpected.

"Tell me 'bout dis world of yours. Why send you? Why-" He paused. Did he really want to know how she'd ended up under his tutalege. "If Xorn can starts dis weapon, where is he in you world?"

Rachel's eyes subconsciously mimicked his narrow stare - something that indubitably used to exasperate the man. She never could quite kick the habit of teasing him by copying everything he did. It was, after all, how she had best learned from him.

"Dead or t'least out of our reach. Just like most of de commanders." She shrugged with feigned carelessness, pushing away the implications of that statement. "I was de only one left with de right abilities. So I left my team under Bets' charge an' came a'travellin. Could'a died, so better me den Bets." Probably.

"So, you de only one dat could have made it here. If I taught you, you should know how suspicious dat sounds." He leaned back, considering the options. He didn't know where Xorn was, but he had put together a possible tracking profile years ago just in case they needed to search for him. But was she who she said she was? He could see the hard look in her eyes, and the faint scars on her hands. Whoever Rachel was, she'd been through serious combat.

"If you want to look for Xorn, den maybe Remy can give you a place to start. But dere's no guarantees. He could be anywhere in de world."

"I'll take what you can offer me," Rachel said solemnly, not even batting an eyelash. "You may not believe it, homme, but my Remy trained me well." He had wanted to teach her, and she had wanted to learn. In the words of Professor Essex, the results could only have been spectacular.

"Finding him is one thing. Getting him to help you is something entirely else. Got to be honest, petite, mind like Xorn's could go any which way. Might make things worse finding him or trying to convince him to help."

“If Rachel fails,” she murmured, tilting her head at him. “Or dies trying, you may say you told me so. Or dance on my grave – if I have one – to de same effect. But I will take dat risk.”

"You awful quick to possibly throw you life away, petite. Dat's desperation talking." Or was it? He'd seen plenty of men and women pushed past the point of caring about personal survival. Sending her out into a world she didn't know wouldn't be giving her much of a chance. "Dere's a few files I can send you. Intel on Xorn is scarce. But, you going to have to take a little trip to Europe to get it. We have people on de ground dere, who can outfit you wit' what you need to start de search. North will coordinate wit' you and us, make sure dat you don't draw de wrong kind of attention. Come by de office tomorrow. Doug will outfit you wit' a phone, identity, tickets and materials to get you across de ocean."

Rachel took a sip of the alcohol, head cocking to the side like a thoughtful thrush as she regarded Remy. “Desperation, confidence, foolhardiness, optimism,” she listed lightly. “All possible. But it don’t matter as long as it gets de job done. Thank you,” the redhead added, sounding completely sincere. Tension had drained out of her shoulders upon hearing Remy’s acquiescence, and those verdant eyes had acquired an odd sort of calmness. Things were finally moving along. In which direction, she did not know; could only step forward and hope it was the right one. “Rachel try not let you regret dis.”

"Think dat's not going to be something dat you can control." Remy suddenly felt very tired; another person he was sending out into a dangerous world, and despite what he said, their deaths would be laid at his feet. Was that what it was like in her world? Did he want to know if it was?

“Is why I said ‘try’.” Rachel more than empathised; she understood what it was like to be in his shoes at that very moment. Obviously, neither had any love for it. But getting things done was the name of their games. “Best Rachel can offer. Now, before you kick me out, are you an’ Storm living in carnal sin, or did you actually go down on a bended knee?”

Remy raised his eyebrows. "Regardless of what you been through, petite, I don' know you yet. Not enough to get private yet." He caught her expression and reconsidered. "But... oui, Ororo and I were married over a year ago."

“Hardly your deepest, darkest secret,” she retorted without rancour, a small smile curling the corners of her lips. She drank from her glass again to hide the sadness that welled up within; the grief from her Remy’s death still fresh and stinging. “Dat someone made an honest man out of you. Or is trying to.”

"'Ro doesn't make me an honest man, but she does make me a better one." Remy got up, polished off the drink, and escorted her to the door. "See you bright and early tomorrow."