xp_logs | Scott and Remy, wee hours of Sunday morning

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Scott steps out to Harry's to get away from the mansion for a little bit. Remy has the same idea, and the two of them polish off most of a bottle of bourbon together.

It was just about last call. Time enough for one beer, which was probably all that he really needed to be drinking anyway, Scott thought bleakly, sitting hunched in one of the booths at the back of Harry's.

Betsy was going to kill him, he reflected. Maybe that was a good thing.

"Dat is de look of a man wit' somet'ing t' forget." The voice by his ear made him jump, as Remy slid into the booth across from him. A bottle of bourbon was plunked down between them, accompanied by the tickle of glasses. "Would be nice if Remy didn't know it so well. Didn't 'cept to find you here, Summers."

"That was sort of the point," Scott muttered, staring across the table at the other man. "Last place anyone would look... but then, you weren't looking for me, were you?"

"Non. Made it here on my own. Figured wit' de chaos at de mansion, Remy being around was something else dat de place didn't need right now. Plus, de bartender don't mind staying open a little later for a suitable tip." Remy said, pouring the drinks with a practiced hand. "So, what's your excuse for de late night drink?"

"Well," Scott said, eyeing the glass Remy pushed across to him with some suspicion before he picked it up. "You know. Students trying to get themselves killed. Must be Tuesday."

"Seems dats de norm around here." Remy commented. "Dey start thinking 'bout all de heroism, and install of doing de sane thing and talking, dey go all romantic and noble. Not de smartest, but also not hard to understand."

"The noble thing doesn't have to be the dumb thing," Scott snapped bitterly, tossing back some of the bourbon. "If he'd just said something, damn it... it's not like we're not well-supplied with psis around here. This bastard wouldn't have been able to hide from a telepath who knew they were looking for someone with a gun."

"Scott, you not looking at de big picture. Dis is a seventeen year old dat just heard he going to die. I'm not saying it's de smart thing, but it's a pretty predictable one." Remy said, a slight smile playing on his mouth. "Dis something I know, homme. Eight months ago, maybe I might have thought de same t'ing."

Scott's eyes narrowed behind his glasses, but he shook his head. "What a mess," he sighed, taking a more judicious sip of his drink. "Like a bad science fiction movie... if there's a God, I really wish I knew why he thought precognition was ever a good idea."

"Probably de same reason why He made one of de most powerful mutants in de world a raging lunatic. Dere are reasons I'm an atheist, homme." Remy said, topping Scott's drink back up. "It's funny how much of dis stuff; heros, villains, winning, losing, death, is just good and bad luck. Being in de right place/wrong place at the time. You can prepare and train, but when it comes down to it..."

The ex-assassin was being philosophical at him. "You know he was there today?" Scott said, staring down into his glass. "The raging lunatic, I mean."

"Magneto." It was Remy's turn to look surprised. "You sure he not connected to all dis shit? Maybe cause problems for de school through de assassin?"

"To be honest? I'm not sure of anything at this point. The sniper was a preexisting threat, not related as far as I know. Wouldn't put anything past the raging lunatic, though..." The bourbon wasn't half-bad, really.

"Someone should check dat out, Scott. De 'deniable' assassin is very much a popular tool for terrorists, criminals, and intelligence agencies. Look at me, for example." Remy said. "Pete or Sean will know. Maybe dat Fed doctor, Bartlett."

"I'll talk to both of them in the morning," Scott muttered. "Madelyn's got her hands full... two patients to look after now."

Remy watched the other man lapse into silence, sorting his own thoughts. LeBeau had a lot of experience with this, but it often took awhile for his mind to be able to deal with the memories intelligently. But growing up quick was fast becoming his only option. "So, what's next for it den? What's your next step in dis situation?"

Scott smiled humorlessly. "Set the people with the right connections to looking into the sniper. Try and figure out what the hell Lehnsherr was doing there. Rework my deployment plans for similar situations and drill the team. Have a serious talk with Charles about talking to the kids about precognition and why playing God is bad."

"Sounds 'bout right. 'cept if dat is all laid out, why you down at de bar in de AM?" Remy said, topping both drinks up. "Less course dat dis is your normal happy hour?"

"I couldn't sleep," Scott said curtly. "Needed to get off the grounds for a while." He swirled the bourbon around in his glass, then tossed some more of it back. Off the grounds before he said or did anything he'd regret.

"Dat applies to a lot of people." Remy agree, sipping his drink. "You sure dis isn't some tortured bout of self-loathing, homme? Mostly because dat was de gig I had planned, and I'd like to know if dere's competition."

"Bout? No, I don't think you could call this a bout... been a bit protracted. And it's not so much self-loathing as just..." Scott paused, blinking, then waved a hand tiredly. "Whatever. Maybe it's self-loathing. Who the fuck can tell at this point..."

"So, what's your reason? Remy got a good one. Only fair t' share why you hate yourself all de sudden." LeBeau smirked, hammering back the dregs of his glass and refilling from the half empty bottle.

When had the bottle become half-empty? Scott blinked at it, then turned his attention back to his own glass. "Not sure it's sudden... I think it's been a work in progress. I suppose you could say it all started with a redhead..."

Remy solomnly refilled both glasses and held up his glass for a toast. "Homme, it always does. Always." It earned a grudging half-smile from Scott as they clinked glasses.

"I don't think I hate myself," Scott said after a moment, more quietly. "Just... don't ever seem to be able to keep up. The last six months... not so good in terms of being able to process one crisis before the next hits."

"Don't know who is, Scott." Remy said over his glass. The low lights of Harry's made his red eyes even more startling. "Tell me somet'ing though. Is dere something you thought you could do dat you didn't do?"

"Something? Several somethings. Dozens of somethings. I have lists." Scott laughed a bit flatly. "Or wait, no... those are things I should have done. Entirely different thing, I guess..."

"You got dat right. Look, I'm going to be de last person you want to hear dis from, homme, but de only mistakes you can berate yourself for are de ones dat you honestly did. If one of de kids gets hit by a bus tomorrow, you going to tear at your hair because you didn't get route maps, schedule, and start a class on how to avoid de bus?" Remy pointed a finger at Scott. "Dat's what I meant about luck, Scott. You can prepare and train, but when it comes down to it, dis merde just happens."

"It's funny," Scott said after a moment, staring across the table at Remy. "I've heard that from you, Betsy, Charles, Alison... pretty much every member of the team at this point. The doctors, a couple of the saner kids... and I know it makes sense. I do." He tossed back some more of the bourbon, coughing for a moment. "But I just can't make myself believe it," he said more hoarsely. "I think there's a part of me that really believes I can stop the shit from happening, and I just can't seem to shut it off."

"Remember a handler like dat. Put a bullet in his head when dey pinched his boy coming across de checkpoints in Berlin." Remy said, again reminding Scott that no matter what Remy looked like, his experience wasn't far behind Nathan's. "But you never got dat lesson, because you went right into de command, didn't you? Too far, maybe too fast. Scott, if you spend all your time killing yourself over what you can't control, you're going to make mistakes with what you can do something about. Dey tell me you're de stiff and logical one. Den act like it."

"Not seeing the trees for the forest," Scott murmured, not remembering who'd told him that. He noticed his glass was empty again. "LeBeau, are you getting me drunk and giving me advice? I'm sure there are any number of people up at the school who'd be very disturbed by that..." Scott actually snickered. "I can see Pete's face now."

Remy topped up both glasses, and gave Scott a wink. "Jus' don't tell anyone. Look, Scott, I'll be honest, homme. I think a lot of de things you guys do here is a mistake. I think de X-Men are too amateur and too idealistic for dere own good. I think dat one day, de entire universe is going to fall in on dat school. But, like it or not, Remy is going t' be dere when it happens. So all I can do is try and even de odds. You're young, naive, and more den a little operationally stupid, but you no fool, homme. When you do your best to gut yourself, den you are putting dem at risk. Because you de best dey got here, Scott. Dat means you owe it to dem to hack it out."

"I'm not going anywhere," Scott said, thinking about that letter he hadn't sent. "As for the rest of it..." He drained his glass, then shook his head when Remy raised the bottle inquiringly. "Stop by my office some evening. You can tell me which of my couple of hundred of variations of 'the universe falling in on the school' you think is most likely." Scott smiled a bit wryly and started to slide out of the booth. "Right now, though, I think I'd better go face the music. If you hear British-accented shrieking from down here, pray for me."

"Take her to bed. De cries change tone pretty fast, homme, and you both be de better for it in de morning." Remy said, draining his glass and refilling it. The level in the bottle was surprisingly low.

Yeah, that had been quite a bit of bourbon in a relatively short period of time, Scott reflected, steadying himself with a hand on the back of the booth as he stood up. "I'll see if I make it through the door thinking that. Ten bucks says I wind up sleeping on someone's couch."

Remy just shook his head. "Homme, I get to go home and listen to Cain snore. Take de bed and get rid of some of dat stress." Remy leaned back, settled in with his glass. "See you in de maelstrom, Scott."