Finally clean and feeling semi-human again, Remy stepped naked out of the bathroom. His skin was still sort of damp and scrubbed pink. He held a towel up to rub dry his hair and could see from underneath it that Logan was once again enjoying the chance to ogle his body.

Which was kind of nice.

And he couldn't really complain since they were married and Logan had seen him naked lots of time before…usually in the X-Men's locker room and showers, but more recently during their sex-a-palooza in Vegas.

And that was the crux of his dilemma. When Logan looked at him now, Remy could almost see the thoughts about sex drifting through his mind. And that had never really happened before. He was used to lots of people thinking of him as a wild-child slut or a sticky-fingered bimbo. But not Logan.

He was used to having Logan's respect…and even his trust.

Remy wasn't sure how adding sex into the mixture was going to work out. As much as he had enjoyed the sex, and he really really enjoyed it, he wasn't willing to lose Logan's respect. That was just too important to him.

Sighing, Remy figured his hair was dry enough and flipped the towel over the edge of the bathroom door to dry. He walked past a smirking Logan and over to his pack. He untied it and reached in to riffle through it when Logan's head turned away and over to the door.

A knock sounded and Logan took a deep breath in through his nose and grinned.

"Looks like ya got outta the shower just in time, bub."

"Oh?"

Remy arched an eyebrow even as he pulled out a pair of worn and faded jeans. He quickly stepped into them as Logan pulled out his wallet and reached for the door.

"Yup. Pizza's here."

Logan opened the door to show a teen in torn jeans and a tee shirt with a pizza shop logo printed on it. He held two pizzas in one hand and a six pack of bud in the other. The kid looked at Logan, then past him to where Remy was just starting to button up his jeans, and back to Logan again. The kid smirked and handed over the pizza.

"$37.50, Mister."

Logan took the pizzas and plopped them down on the dresser, and then he handed over four tens and grabbed the beer.

"Go'wan, get outta here kid."

The kid nodded as he glanced back over at Remy and smirked even wider. Then the kid turned away and Logan shut the door. Remy rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Don' dat beat all. Kid sees de two of us here an' calls y' Mister but looks at Remy like he's a trick."

Logan barked out a laugh and peeled a beer out of the six pack before setting the rest on the small table.

"Yeah well, I ain't exactly anyone's idea o' a rent boy."

Remy chuckled and reached out to grab one of the pizzas.

"Oh, dat's not true. Remy's sure he can find a whole line of folks dat'd pay good money for de chance t' have y' put 'em over y' knee an' spank dere naked ass, homme."

Logan stilled in the act of reaching for the other pizza. Then, very slowly he looked over his shoulder at Remy.

"You one o' 'em?"

Remy snorted and shook his head.

"Pain ain't one of m' kinks, cher. An' Remy knows just how hard y' can hit."

Logan dropped the pizza box on the table and sat down across from Remy. Opening it up, he took out a slice. Remy grinned, his eyes sparkling.

"Lordy…two whole pizzas an' not a single veggie 'tween 'em. Stormy'd have a fit."

Logan rolled his eyes and pointed at Remy with the half eaten slice in his hand.

"Pizza should be covered in pepperoni, sausage, an' ham. Not peppers, onions, an' mushrooms. I don't care what the woman says ta the contrary."

They ate in silence for a while since they were both starving. Finally, when it was just down to a few last slices and a single beer left each, Logan cocked an assessing eye at Remy and just stared for a moment.

"Quoi?"

Logan shrugged, looked away a second, and then looked back.

"So…if pain ain't one o' your kinks, what is?"

Remy stilled for a second and then finished his movement. Apparently, they were going to have this conversation even though he really didn't want to. Still, they were married and it made sense in a way that Logan would want to know.

"Eh…more into dominance games, me. Remy's a switch, so he'll fight y' for it. Plus, if'n y' ever learnt any of dat Kinbaku Shibari when y' was in Japan, he'll let y' practice it on him."

Logan blinked twice even as his pupils dilated rapidly.

"Rope bondage, huh?"

His voice was rough, so he opened up his last beer and took a big drink. Remy just grinned at him.

"Oui."

Remy let his eyes unfocus in a combination of thought and memory even as he felt his cheeks heat up a bit.

"If…If it done right, den Remy can't get outta it. No lock t' pick. No system t' beat. Just…gotta submit."

Then he shook his head lightly and shrugged.

"Can always just free m'self wit' de charge, mais…dat's cheatin'."

He offered up a lopsided grin that didn't really hide the shadow of sadness deep in his eyes.

"Don' know many people dat are skilled enough t' tame Remy dat Remy actually trusts enough t' try."

Logan's eyes cleared up and focused on him at that last confession and then he nodded in understanding. Trust. That's when the games of domination stopped being games. And since Remy had already offered to do it; that meant that trust was there between them.

Logan's eyes softened a bit. He looked down at the remains of his pizza for a moment and then looked back up at Remy.

"I'll put in an order for some asanawa an' the next time we're in a secure place an' have some down time, I'll tie ya up inta a complicated knot an' let ya drift in subspace for a while."

Logan rolled his eyes playfully.

"It'd probably do ya some good, darlin'."

Remy chuckled softly and nodded. Then he finished off his beer and belched.

"Just make sure de rope be jute. Hemp itches m'."

Logan snorted.

"Fine. Jute nawa it is."

They grinned at each other for a long moment, the tension between them a sexual thing that pulsed and rolled. He wanted nothing more than to drag Logan into that big bed behind them and let himself get lost in the pleasure of the older man's body.

But they were in the middle of an op. There were things to do and plans to make. Getting lost in his own sexuality wouldn't get things done.

He sighed and shook his head to break the connection building between them.

"Eh…" He reached up to scratch his chin. "Nice as all dat would be…"

He shrugged apologetically as Logan groaned and then shifted back into a more professional mindset.

"Think we should call de girls? Maybe tell 'em where we be an' find out if'n dey caught de cyborg Reese?"

Logan sighed.

"Yeah, probably. We also need to figure out where Martinique's at. Or where she's headed."

Remy nodded and tilted his head thoughtfully.

"Gettin' late an' Remy don't have his laptop. If'n de girls have access t' a computer an' wanna try findin' her, dat's fine. If not, den tomorrow mornin' Remy can go t' de University an' use dere system t' locate her."

Logan just looked at him a moment before crossing his arms.

"And if the bitch's already delivered the power source ta Pierce?"

Remy shrugged carelessly.

"Den Remy sneaks in an' steals it back. After dat, it's up t' y' if'n we pull de place down around his head."

Logan nodded and shrugged. He'd never had a problem with tearing down enemy bases.

"Fair enough."

Remy pushed away from the table and stuffed his feet into this boots.

"Gonna have m' one last smoke, den Remy brush his teeth an' hit de sack. Was one hellava long day, homme."

Logan snorted.

"Understatement o' the year there, bub."

Standing up, Remy grabbed his pack of cigarettes and slid one out.

"Ya go have your smoke, Gumbo. I'm gonna call Jubes an' see what's up with the girls."

"D'Accord, Logan."


"Have you managed to shake Wolverine and Gambit?"

Martinique frowned at the tone of voice coming across the telephone, but quickly smoothed out her expression so that no hint of her distaste for her employer would be heard in her voice.

"Yes. I left them floundering behind in Vegas." She chuckled darkly. "Actually, I left them locked in an illusion and stumbling into an elevator while clinging to each other."

There was a pause and she could practically feel the antipathy radiating through time and space towards her from her employer.

"For all our sakes, I hope you are correct. I have had dealings with Wolverine in the past. He…is not a pleasant man."

Martinique nearly choked at that understatement. Wolverine was about the exact opposite of pleasant, in her mind.

"I have no doubt that he and that Cajun thief trailing behind him like a puppy are rushing about Vegas in a panic by now."

"Hmmm…" was her employer's less then supportive reply.

"I'll be expecting you to arrive with the device tomorrow. Don't be late."

Martinique's frown came back tenfold when the dial tone began to hum in her ear.


Remy drifted up out of sleep when Logan stepped out of the bathroom. The scent of cheap soap clung to the man as it swirled out into the main room in a cloud of steam. Remy didn't open his eyes, he just listened as Logan hung up his towel over the door.

There was a brief pause, one weighted with tension and then Logan lifted up the edge of the sheet and slid into the bed next to him. The mattress dipped greatly at his weight and Remy debated with himself over the wisdom of just giving into the situation.

Then with a sigh, he rolled over and plastered himself against Logan's side, his one knee bending slightly so that he could hook the leg over Logan's. His head found a spot to rest on Logan's broad shoulder and he wiggled slightly to get comfortable.

Logan held very still for a long moment and then seemed to melt into the embrace and relaxed with a sigh.

"Go back ta sleep, Rem."

Remy nodded slightly and draped an arm across Logan's chest.

"Oui, Logan."

Silence settled between them, but it was a relaxed and sleepy kind of silence. Comfortable.

Just before he drifted back into sleep, Remy murmured softly, "When dis over we go back t' Vegas. Remy never got t' play any cards dis last time…"

Logan chuckled softly.

"Sure, Rem."


Remy frowned as he swerved through traffic easily with only the merest of his attention devoted to the road around him. Instead, his mind was still back in that seedy motel room where he'd left Logan meditating

It wasn't right that two men should be thrown all off-kilter just because they started their day with slow sleepy sex before they even rose out of bed. Especially if that sex was with their legally wedded spouse, and yet…a sort of confused tenseness had risen between he and Logan as the afterglow began to fade and full awareness set in.

They were partners. In many ways, they were each other's best friend. Occasionally, they were even rivals.

And now, without their consent, they were married. And oddly enough, it was the sex that was throwing everything off.

He didn't mind being tied to Logan the rest of his life. He didn't mind sharing his name, nor his wealth, nor his trust.

His bed, however…that was a little bit more tricky.

Some of the issues were his. He knew that. His past wasn't pretty and it'd caused an extreme amount of trouble on the team. Hustler. Whore. Slut. Bimbo. He'd heard it all more than once and from more than one mouth.

He had always known who hadn't held his past against him and who tossed it into his teeth. Logan was prominent on the former list and he couldn't help but worry if this would be the final straw that broke the back of that particular camel.

Some of the issues were Logan's. He knew that as well. Only, he wasn't exactly sure what it was about this mess that was pushing Logan's buttons. Logan could be a mystery, so he knew that unless the older man actually opened his mouth and talked about what was eating him, Remy'd never figure it out.

Yet, it had felt so right to wake up hard and yearning next to Logan. To feel the heat pouring off of his skin and the strength of his body as he pulled Remy tighter against him. Sloppy nibbles along stubble covered necks and cheeks, sweat mixing with sweat, panting breaths and quiet moans.

Losing himself in the deepening affection, the physical and emotional warmth, the rising passion, and the endless hungry need under it all. Willingly tumbling over the edge with gentle pulses of raw pleasure, shuddering helplessly and knowing it was safe to fall.

It had been beautiful.

Then it had been awkward as realization set in and their minds fully awoke to reality. They had both made a show of casualness, of being unaffected and everything being the same. But it wasn't.

They'd had sex.

No…they'd made love.

And there was no illusion casting telepath or champaign to blame it on this time.

Logan had gone off to get breakfast and Remy had gotten in the shower. He'd carefully washed his hair and then shaved. Later, he'd dressed in his nicest jeans and his only remaining clean tee shirt. Deliberately leaving his leather duster behind, Remy'd smiled brightly and winked as he'd ducked out of their room, but it had all been an act.

He's fairly sure that Logan knows that. That he could smell Remy's awkward nerves, but there's not much he could do about that. Hopefully, a little time and space so that those memories aren't so immediate would help.

With a sigh, Remy pulled his bike into a student lot and put down the center stand. Turning off his bike, he sighed and looked around before climbing off. He adjusted his sunglasses and started walking across the campus.

He figured his best bet was to find a student store of some kind. He needed to blend in a little better. He wasn't that much older physically then some of the seniors or the graduate students, but he definitely came across as older. Older, experienced, and very dangerous.

He couldn't really help that. He'd seen too much, done too much, and survived too much horror to ever seem an innocent school boy again. Even if those school boys spent more time drinking then they did studying. He had a presence, or vibe as the Californians would say; one that either drew in people that liked to play with fire, or frightened and repelled those who did not.

And since the first rule of the con was to make your marks see only what you want them to see, he needed a disguise.

Finally coming across the campus bookstore, Remy opened the door and wandered in. He headed to the rack of zippered sweatshirts with the University's logo on it. Like a wolf slipping on a sheep's skin to blend with the flock, it would change his battle-hardened physique into the muscles of a thickheaded jock.

After that, he'd gone over to the bookshelves and found a battered used copy of some history text. Then he'd grabbed up a spiral notebook and a pen with the UCLA's logo on it as well. Walking over to the counter, he gently placed his camouflage and props on it and smiled at the girl standing behind the register.

She rang up the sweatshirt without blinking, but paused as she came to the book and looked up at him sideways.

"This late in the season? Seriously?"

Remy rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses and pulled up his best Southern California accent. He offered her up a sheepish grin that he knew made him look younger and reached up with one hand to scratch his cheek.

"Um…see, there was this…uh, incident over the weekend. It was so totally not my fault. I swear. It involved a spilled glass of beer, a dropped slice of pizza and my ex-best friend who shall now be known only as; The Roommate."

The girl giggled as she rang up the book, notebook, and pen as well.

"Uh-huh."

She started to tuck his stuff into a plastic bag even as she grinned at him.

"You should really find a way to make your, uh…roommate pay."

Remy pulled out his billfold and stripped off several twenties and held them up for her to see.

"Oh, don't worry. He is."

She giggled again as she made his change for him. He tucked it and his billfold back in his jeans. With a last smile at her, he turned and walked out of the store.

Once out of her sight, he pulled the sweatshirt out of the bag. After checking it for tags, he pulled it on and zipped it halfway up. Then he tucked the pen into the metal spiral of the notebook and carried it and the history text across the campus. No longer standing out, he headed towards the computer building as just another student.

Getting into the actual computer lab was ridiculously easy. He just trailed along behind a group of students, nodded absentmindedly to the monitor and sat down at a machine in one of the rows. Setting the text next to him, he booted up the system and then flipped open the notebook and set it aside.

Once everything was up and running, he began to search for Martinique. He knew her alias and financial information because Martin Trousseau had found it for him in Vegas. Now it was just a matter of finding out where she was spending money out of those accounts. Remy might not be as good as Martin at hacking, but he was easily on par with Kitty Pryde and it wasn't long until he found what he was looking for.

"Got y', y' bitch." He murmured softly.

She had rented a room at the Marriott and also a car. He carefully wrote down the info on both her room and her ride. Then he shut down his search and carefully erased all traces of his presence in the system and logged out. Grabbing his books, he turned to leave.

He and Logan had plans to make and a psychotic telepath to catch.


Remy couldn't help but smirk at the fact that no one even blinked to see the two of them riding side by side on matching Harley's down a major thoroughfare in full battle armor. Especially since Logan's armor included a face mask and his included visible weapons and packs for his tools.

Apparently, L.A. was just as jaded and cynical as New York.

They turned the corner and headed straight for the Marriott. It was a fairly big building, modern, and with no real security to speak of. It was a place for tourists and businessmen though, so they couldn't exactly walk into the lobby dressed this way. Someone would end up calling the cops or with their luck; the Avengers.

Remy wouldn't blame them much neither. Super-powered battles tended to be really hard on the furniture. Not to mention the actual superstructure of the building and the people inside it.

=Gambit,= Logan's voice was scratchy over the communicator and nearly drowned out by the sound of the bikes and the wind. =Head around ta the side an' climb up the building ta peer in her windows.=

Remy chuckled.

=Gambit's a t'ief, mon ami. Not a peepin' tom.=

=Can it, Cajun. I want ya ta see if our bird's still in the nest or if she's flown the coup. I'll head down ta the parking garage an' see if I can spot that rental o' hers.=

Remy rolled his eyes and wished he was wearing his shades in all this bright California sunshine. Finally he nodded.

=Oui, cher. Gambit gonna play de peepin' tom for y'. Don' fret.=

When they got to the building, Logan headed straight for the sign that read 'PARKING' and Remy turned down a small side alley most likely meant for delivery trunks to get to the back. He slowed to a stop and glanced up at the building's façade while counting windows and matching them up to the floor plans he'd quickly memorized.

There! That was the one. And it would be easy enough to get to.

He pulled his bike further into the alley and turned it around. He parked it tucked behind a dumpster so that it wouldn't be visible by anyone walking down the street that might peer into the alley. He took a moment to pull out climbing straps for his hands. They were straps that he could wear almost like gloves, only there were metal claws that sat across his palm that he could use to grip the building's stonework.

Finding the perfect spot to start, Remy reached up and felt the claws on the climbing straps bite into the brick. Grinning, he braced his feet and pulled himself up. Then he set the strap on the other hand against the brick, and then he did it again, and again, and again.

Soon enough, he was clinging to the wall next to the window. Pausing there, he turned all of his senses to the room, letting his hearing, his spatial sense of the kinetic and his charm wash over the area; testing and seeking.

Nothing.

Frowning, he leaned to the side and peeked in. The room was empty, the bed unmade and the closet door opened. Nothing was there.

He was just about to start working on the window's lock so he could investigate closer when the door leading to the hallway opened. He pulled back a bit and watched as a cleaning cart was pushed through the door by a bored looking woman in a gray maid's uniform.

Sighing, Remy began to work his way back down the wall. They'd obviously missed her. He wondered by how much. When he got to about the second floor, Logan's voice came through the communicator.

=Gambit! Get out here quick! I'm following her out o' the garage now. She must've already checked out. She's got the case!=

=Merde! Fine, be dere un moment.=

Glancing down and quickly judging both distance and angle, Remy pushed off of the wall into the air and a perfect back flip. He tucked his feet under him and hit the building across the alley like a springboard. This time he did a perfect forward flip with a half twist. His acrobatics ended in a graceful three point landing next to his bike.

He glanced up in time to see Logan's bike go flying past the mouth of the alley.

"Sonuva…"

Leaping up, he climbed on his bike and kicked it to a roaring start. With his engine screaming, he took off like a shot and nearly got his fool self killed by the car coming down the street when he pulled out into traffic without slowing down. Horns blared and he swerved out of the way at the last second. Remy nearly lost control of the powerful machine, but then brought it to heel through the strength of his muscles and the sheer determination of his willpower.

"Woo! Wee!" He whooped with delight as he slalomed through the thick traffic. His manic grin threatened to split his face in half as adrenaline slammed through his system.

=Don't get ya'self killed, Gambit!= Logan's voice growled out of the communicator. =Divorce is one thing, but don't make me a widower.=

Remy laughed as he quickly caught up to Logan.

=Don' fret, husband. Take more'n a spill on de bike t' take out de ragin' Cajun.=

A snort came through the communicator loud and clear.

=Bitch's in the blue Audi. Two cars up in the far left lane.=

Remy's eyes quickly snapped up and over.

=Got'er, mon ami.=


Martinique was singing along to the radio softly under her breath when she pulled onto the onramp for I-5 South.

She couldn't help her good mood really. As much as she wasn't looking forward to meeting up with Pierce in person, she was glad this assignment was nearly over. She had an incredible urge to leave the southwest United States. Perhaps even the North American continent altogether.

Her eyes flickered to her rearview and away.

Then, she clenched the steering wheel and looked in her rearview mirror more intently. There, three car lengths back, were two large powerful motorcycles riding side-by-side. Not that uncommon in the States, but it was the riders that were important in this case.

Wolverine and Gambit.

"Shit!"

How did they find her? And, oh god, what were they going to do to her for marrying them off to each other?

Dammit! They were supposed to be floundering around in Las Vegas in a panic!

"Shit!"


Remy couldn't have removed the grin from his face with a crowbar. He couldn't help it, he loved high speed chases. Hell, he loved high speed driving for any reason at all. The rush of the wind in his hair, the thrum of the big engine growling between his legs, the sensation that he was completely in tune with his own sense of the kinetic.

Motion.

Energy.

It was a nearly zen-like sensation for him and the whole world just make complete sense.

Martinique must have realized they were following her, because she kept speeding up as she swerved more and more recklessly through the thick traffic. However, Remy was completely in tune with his bike and the world around him and Logan was just far too skilled a rider. She wasn't going to lose them or shake them off her trail.

They slid in and out of traffic, zooming past cars and along the dangerously narrow channels of space between two lanes and along the shoulder. Horns honked indignantly and more than a few people flipped them off. Remy barely noticed them and from the fierce grin on Logan's face, he couldn't possibly care less about the disgruntled commuters they left in their wake.

=Soon as she's put some space between her an' the other drivers, try an' take out her tires, Gambit.=

For a second, Remy's smile widened even more.

=D'Accord. Been a while since Gambit got t' blow somet'in' up.=

Remy's eyes scanned the road ahead of them. There. She only had to pass three more cars and then she'd pull out ahead of traffic. He'd let her get a bit out ahead away from everyone else.

They weaved through cars and then they were out in open space; the road empty in front of them except for Martinique. The little blue Audi suddenly began to pour on the speed.

His eyes glowing with glee, Remy lifted a hand off of his handlebars and reached into one of the pouches strapped to his waist and thigh. Carefully, he slid out three cards.

Deuce of Hearts, Jack of Diamonds, and the Ace of Spades. How apropos.

As soon as he felt Martinique had put enough space between herself and the other vehicles on the interstate, Remy reached for the kinetic potential in the cards and excited the molecules to a glowing explosive state. Taking careful aim, he flung them at the Audi.

sssssssss-Ba-BOOM!

The Audi exploded into the air in a rolling ball of fire, force, and noise. It tumbled, end over nose; once, twice. Then it hit the ground with an unholy screech of twisting metal and shredding plastic before beginning a death spin, rolling along the asphalt. Remy grabbed onto the handlebars and swerved out of the path of destruction and raining bits of vehicle falling from the sky.

=Nice.=

Remy flashed a wide grin at Logan.

=Y' welcome.=

Another one of Logan's snorts came through the communicator even as they both downshifted and braked to a stop next to the wreck. Behind them in the distance, horns began blaring again as the other vehicles tried to slow down and shift lanes to avoid the debris field. Remy and Logan ignored all that though, and climbed off their bikes.

The Audi was resting on what was left of its smashed and shattered roof, the two front tires still spinning lazily. It was tilted at an alarming angle. Remy walked up the passenger side even as Logan headed for the driver's.

Remy glanced through the backseat window. He could see the heavy metal case containing the power source lying cockeyed on what used to be the ceiling. He couldn't really see Martinique from this angle, though.

"She alive in dere, mon ami?"

Logan crouched down and peered in the driver's window and grunted.

"Yeah. Looks outta it, though."

Remy heard the soft snikt sound of Logan's claws being unsheathed and then he watched as the other man punched directly into the door, all three adamantium claws sliding through the metal like a knife through butter. It took less then ten seconds for Logan to slice away the door.

He reached in and went directly for the keys in the ignition and turned off the engine. Then he sliced away the seatbelt and yanked Martinique out.

Figuring that Logan had everything in hand there, Remy quickly picked the lock on the door in front of him and tried to yank it open. Took a bit of elbow grease, but the door finally gave way to his strength with a squeal of protest. Crouching down, he reached in and grabbed the case and carefully examined it. Thankfully, it had survived the crash intact.

He slid it over and out of the car. Standing up with it, he turned around and stumbled from a wash of dizziness. Burnt cinnamon wafted past his nose.

That scent was familiar, somehow, but he couldn't quite remember from where. He looked around, slightly confused. Something tickled in his brain and his skin started to darken as a seductive icy rage washed up from within.

Death?

"…non…" he whispered in horror.

He couldn't be turning back into Death of the Horsemen! Not here, not now! Not ever!

He shook his head in an attempt to focus and pushed Death back down into the pits of his mind with all his strength. Slowly, his skin began to pale again to its normal healthy tones and he was left trembling from the effort.

Logan was staring at him with deep concern and wariness etched onto his face and Remy stared back horror struck and wishing he could explain why that had just happened again.

Suddenly, he knew. It was Martinique trying to play her nasty little mindgames again. He could feel her thoughts sliding through his shields. Gritting his teeth, he hissed in anger and slammed his psi-shields shut as tight as they could go.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the woman flinch back and sway on her feet, a trickle of blood dripping from her nose.

"Stay outta m' head, y' bitch!"

Logan's eyes widened in realization and he shook his whole body like a dog shaking water out of its fur.

"Oh no ya don't! Ya ain't gonna play them games."

Remy panted, trying to steady his nerves as Logan stalked over to Martinique.

"I ain't gonna let ya release Death inta the world again!"

Logan retracted his claws and curled his hand into a fist. Then he swung out and cracked Martinique across the jaw. Instantly, her eyes rolled up into her head and she crashed to the ground with a solid thump.

Remy and Logan's eyes met over the upturned car's underbelly and they stared solemnly at each other.

"I don't normally like ta hit frails, but damn, that felt good."

Remy threw back his head and laughed, the tension draining out of him as Death finally settled back into his mind and fell asleep again.

"Y' might be a complex man, Canucklehead…but y' got simple pleasures."

"Stow it, Gumbo." Logan said through his smirk. "We gotta get outta here before the authorities arrive."

Just then, a small mini-jet slid across the sky, looped around and headed in for a landing on the interstate.

"Too late, mon ami."

The mini-jet landed with a loud roar, throwing up a bunch of dust and smoke. It settled onto the asphalt with a resounding thud. The hatch opened with a hiss of hydraulics and their old teammate, Beast leapt out. He performed a perfect three-point twist before his paws even touched ground.

Remy and Logan grinned widely at him.

Next, a beautiful red haired woman with generous curves slid out of the mini-jet to land beside Hank. She was wearing a skin tight black leather cat suit that showed off her cleavage delightfully.

Logan nodded at them even as Remy walked around the car.

"Blue. Darlin'."

"M'sieur Bete. Mademoiselle Romanova."

Hank blinked at them in surprise and adjusted his glasses.

"Wolverine, Gambit…" he looked around at the wreck. "What are you…wait. Let me guess. Is that the lovely Martinique Jason, otherwise known as The Mastermind II, lying at your feet?"

Logan nodded. "Sure is."

Remy tilted his head in confusion and reached up to scratch his chin.

"How y' know dat, mon ami? Met her b'fore?"

Hank shook his head and grinned a smile filled with razor sharp fangs. He chuckled and bounded over to them with the Black Widow following him. She was smirking in a way that was both sexy and dangerous.

"No. However, Moon Knight received a report from one of his agents; a lovely woman named Echo, I believe. She mentioned that the two of you were searching for Mastermind II. Something about industrial espionage, I believe."

Logan nodded.

"Yeah. We contacted Echo while we were chasing her through Vegas."

Both Hank and Natasha's smirks got wider.

"Yes. I was actually on the computers trying to do some research on her that I could forward to you when I came across something rather interesting."

Remy began to get a bad feeling about all the sly smirks. He could literally feel that both Hank and Natasha wanted to giggle madly.

"Quoi?"

Hank cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses again.

"Yes. Just before I was sent out on assignment with the lovely Miss Romanova to investigate your…apprehension of Miss Jason, I came across an interesting website. A very new one, but interesting all the same."

Logan frowned and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Quit beatin' around the bush, bub. What'd ya find?"

Hank nodded, still grinning like mad.

"It seems that Miss Jason scanned a bunch of photos and a few documents onto the internet."

Remy's head dropped down to his chest and he groaned, ignoring Logan's confusion.

"Oh yes, my Acadian compatriot. She posted your marriage license and the photos of your wedding for all to see."

"Gambit's gonna kill 'er."

He looked up, his red eyes glowing and his lips set in a scowl. Logan just looked stunned, as if it never occurred to him that such a thing could happen.

"Non! He gonna have Bella kill 'er. She knows how t' make it painful as all hell an' last for days."

Natasha was snickering quietly.

"I must say," Hank said with a fake pout. "I'm a little upset that I wasn't invited. My lovely blue fur would have fit right in with the crowds if those pictures are to be believed. Plus, I wanted to dance with the bride."

Natasha snorted through her nose and waved a hand at them.

"Yeah, but which one's the bride?"

Hank chuckled and shrugged.

"Sacre' mere." Remy reached up to pinch his nose.

Then Logan snapped out of whatever mental hell he'd been in and his head whipped around to glare at the woman lying in a sprawl on the ground. A low threatening growl rumbled out of his chest. The claws on both fists slashed out to gleam in the sun. Humiliation and rage battered against Remy's psi-shields in hot pulsing waves.

"Merde!"

Dropping the case, Remy leapt for Logan and landed on the other man's back. Logan didn't even so much as stumble from his weight, but Remy wrapped his arms around Logan's arms and braced himself. He had to somehow keep the man from disemboweling Martinique.

Hank and Natasha's humor dropped in an instant. Natasha elbowed Hank and pointed at Martinique.

"We'd better get her out of here before Logan gets himself free."

"Yes, quite right."

Then Hank bounded over and lifted Martinique up and draped her over his shoulder. Leaping up into the air, he flipped over backwards only to land next to Natasha again, Martinique still in his grasp.

Logan growled and tried to shake Remy off his back, but he clung on tightly and held on.

"Calm down, homme. Shhh, its okay. Calm down."

Logan ignored Remy; both the fact that he was clinging on his back and yammering in his ear. Instead, he just stalked after his prey lying limp in Hank's arms while dragging Remy along for the ride.

"Aw hell," Natasha muttered as she stepped between them and Hank. She lifted one arm to aim her Widow Bites at her old friend and prayed she wouldn't have to pull the trigger.

Remy yanked on Logan's arms again and yelled, "LOGAN! STOP!"

Logan came to a halt, but his claws kept sliding in and out of his forearms with restless agitation and Remy could feel his muscles trembling with the strain of not going off in a killing rage.

"Come'on, ami. We take de case an' get back on our bikes, oui? Let M'sieur Bete deal wit' de femme. We can trust Henri t' take care of her, henh?"

Logan growled deeply in his chest for a long minute and then he seemed to relax slightly.

"Fine! Hank, you take your red head and that…bitch an' get her out o' my face."

Then he snorted and shook Remy off. This time Remy let him as he slid off the man's back and onto his feet.

"An' I'll take my red head an' the case."

Then Logan turned and stomped away with a growled out, "Come'on, Cajun. Let's get outta here."

Remy frowned and reached up to pull a strand of hair in front of his face. He studied the auburn lock with its deep red highlights.

"Red head? Always t'ought Gambit be more a brunette, me."

Natasha shrugged at him and grinned.

"And as if I'd belong to any man. Even one as fine as Hank."

They shared sympathetic looks and turned to follow their respective partners to their vehicles.


Remy stepped out of the UPS store and squinted behind his sunglasses. California sunshine was just too damn bright. Sighing, he sauntered over to where Logan was leaning on his bike and smoking a cigar.

"Got it mailed off okay?"

Remy nodded even as he straddled his own bike.

"Oui. Expensive, t'ough. Even just sendin' de case off t' de San Fran compound 'cause it so damn heavy."

Logan just nodded, not caring how much it cost to mail off the power source they'd taken from Martinique to the X-Men's San Francisco base. Remy watched him a moment as he puffed on the cigar and fiddled with his keys.

"Well…now what, homme?"

Logan's blue eyes shifted over to his for a moment and Remy wondered if his heightened senses allowed Logan to see through the dark tint of his shades to the red on black eyes behind them.

"Called them ta let 'em know the case was coming."

Remy nodded, then shrugged. He'd expected as much.

"New assignment? We supposed t' meet up wit' de girls again?"

Logan's teeth ground together for a moment.

"Naw. They think the girls did good under Cannonball's leadership. Want ta try an' form a team around 'em. They're sendin' Pixie an' Elixer ta get more experience an' Maddrox ta act as Sam's second in command."

Remy considered it. It wasn't a bad mix. Sam Guthrie was practically raised by the teams, Cable in particular. He was damn good at what he did. Maddrox had spent time with both Excalibur and X-Force and was also very good at what he did. He was also the perfect second since he could handle all the paperwork and logistics like a pro. Havoc had taught him well.

With Boom Boom most likely taking on Den Mother status, both Jubilee and Laura would be in good hands as far as the social scene went. And Laura needed a dose of that badly.

Skill sets and power wise, it would be a good mix as well. They had close fighters, long range fighters, flyers, and even a healer. It'd be a good team if Cannonball could get them all on the same page.

Finally, Remy nodded again and offered up a small smirk.

"Be a good team. Plus, it'd give Pixie an' Elixer a good dose of field work an' Laura a good taste of family wit'out de craziness of everyone all piled t'get'er at once."

Logan just nodded and then calmly stubbed out the cigar.

"Yep."

Remy waited a moment and when nothing else was forthcoming, he sighed.

"An' what about us, homme?"

Logan grimaced.

"Got congratulated on our weddin' an' asked where I was takin' ya for the honeymoon."

Remy's eyes shifted a bit and he noted that Logan was still wearing the marriage bracelet on his wrist. He wanted to ask why it was still there when he knew that Logan didn't like to hear about it…or possibly even think about it.

"What'd y' tell 'em?"

Logan smirked and stood up. He swung his leg over the bike and settled into the saddle.

"Vegas."

The city's name shifted into his brain, and slowly he began to smile.

"Well all right…laissez les bon temps rouler."