DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Marvel,
but are used without permission for entertainment purposes only--although
I think KJ's Mooks OUGHT to belong to her now. I mean, she loves them
more than Marvel does, for sure....;)
Speaking of KJ--this is to her, for her birthday, with much love.
A Crazy Kinda Way To Spend The Afternoon
by Alicia McKenzie
Bobby Drake was having a very strange dream, involving Hank, a sky
full of clouds that were really Twinkies, and a line of miniature
Sinisters doing the macarena. The real kicker was that they were singing
along to the music. He thought he probably could have handled it,
if they hadn't been singing. When they abruptly stopped dancing and
stood at attention, breaking into the Marseillaise, he decided that
it was probably time to wake up now.
Easier said than done, though, Clawing his way back to consciousness,
he registered his own pounding headache, the hard floor beneath him,
and the unmistakable cool weight of an inhibitor collar around his
neck. His mind managed to make the rather elementary connection that
the collar was a Bad Thing, implying other, even Worse Things. Bobby
opened his eyes, blinking around blearily as he tried to remember
what had happened.
Think, Drake-- Okay. He remembered. They'd been on a mission.
Right. There'd been a group of leftover Genoshan Magistrates, trying
to set up their own nasty little operation in South Africa. We
traced them back to their base -- I remember that. There'd been
a fight, and -- well, and then--
Okay, so maybe he didn't quite remember everything. As much as he
tried to concentrate, it wasn't coming back. Obviously something had
happened, though, for him to wind up collared, in a rather secure-looking
His gaze fell on the familiar lean form sprawled a few feet away
from him, wearing an identical collar, and all thoughts of why and
where vanished so fast they wound up racing each other on the way
out of his head.
"Remy!" he said urgently, scrambling over to his lover's side. Okay,
he thought, fighting for composure. Pulse -- yes. Breathing --
good. No injuries he could SEE -- also good. But that left all
the possible things he wouldn't be ABLE to see, and for some reason,
he was having a real hard time concentrating on the basics of first
aid at the moment -- "Remy? Can you hear me? Remy?"
He called his name a few more times, and finally, red-on-black eyes
fluttered open, fixing on his face dazedly for a few, much too long
moments. "Well," Remy finally muttered, almost speculatively. "Dat
-- went well." He reached up, long fingers brushing the collar. "Merde,"
he said, quietly but vehemently.
"Yeah," Bobby said, much more shakily than he'd intended. Joking
-- that was a good sign, right? "I don't even remember what happened.
Are you sure you're all right? Nothing broken?" He started to check
for himself, but Remy caught his hands, squeezing them tightly. Trying
to reassure him, Bobby realized.
"I'm fine, cher--" Remy said firmly and sat up, moving so stiffly
that Bobby winced in reflexive sympathy. "Y' don' need t'be worryin'
'bout me. Now, y'okay?"
"I'm fine, Remy. But you should take it easy," Bobby said earnestly.
"You might be--"
"Bobby, I t'ink we got bigger t'ings to worry 'bout at de moment--"
Remy frowned and reached out, touching the side of Bobby's face gently.
"Are y'sure y'r all right? Looks like someone hit y'upside de head--"
Bobby swallowed, managing a feeble smile. "Fine, Remy, I'm fine--"
"You're fine, he's fine, we're all flonqing well fine," a voice growled
from the corner. "So stop cooing over each other before you make me
Bobby almost yelped. Remy merely looked around laconically. "Bonjour,
Cable. Dey got y'too, I see."
"Actually, no. I'm really lying on a beach in the Bahamas. You're
just seeing things," Cable muttered, shifting his weight as he were
trying to get more comfortable.
Bobby stared at him, part of him not quite comprehending how he'd
managed to miss the fact that Cable was there, and the rest of him
more than a little abashed that he HAD. He'd been distracted, sure,
but still, Remy had clearly known he was there. He hadn't seem in
the least bit surprised. Well, how surprised should he have been?
Any one with a modicum of intelligence would have noted the time-traveling
mercenary sitting in the corner--
Cable directed a brief, more than slightly unfocused glare in his
direction. "What, Drake."
"Um -- are you all right?" It was the first halfway sensible thing
that popped into his mind, so he said it. Well, he's awake and
making nasty comments, that's a good sign--
"Just peachy, thanks for asking." It was a snarl, pure and simple,
and Bobby couldn't help a flinch.
Remy squeezed Bobby's hand again, reassuringly, and then glanced
back at Cable. "Y're not wearin' a collar," he observed.
"You know," Cable said, his words ever so faintly slurred, "I didn't
notice that. I suppose the fact that the virus isn't currently running
wild and turning me into something resembling an erector set was a
tip-off, but thanks for pointing that out, Cajun. Don't know what
I'd have done without you."
"But -- if you're not wearing a collar--" Bobby started, then fell
silent as Cable gave him a disgusted look and gestured at the bars,
his left eye glowing dully.
The bars rattled. That was all. Given that Cable would ordinarily
have been capable of tearing them apart telekinetically with very
little effort--"Oh," Bobby said lamely. "Then how--"
Cable muttered something incomprehensible under his breath and rubbed
at one muscled arm. Remy smiled faintly. "De drugged him, Bobby. Guess
dat means dey wan' us all alive f'r somet'ing or ot'er."
"Oh." He seemed to be saying that a lot right now. "How exactly did
we get here, anyway?" There. Much more productive sort of thing to
Cable gave him a faintly speculative look. "Guess that roof beam
did hit you on the head. I thought it had." He shifted again, glancing
out into the empty hallway outside their cell. "Short answer, one
of the Magistrates brought the ceiling down on you and LeBeau. Logan
and I were trying to dig you out, and--" He fell silent, staring vacantly
into the empty air for a few moments. "Oath. Well, whatever happened
after that. I don't see Logan, though -- he must've gotten out."
"Dis is almost funny, non?" Remy murmured. "All t'ree of us, stuck
in dis cell and not rememberin' how we got here--"
"Funny ha-ha or funny peculiar?" Bobby asked. The joke fell flat,
but then again, he'd expected it to. "So," he said a little helplessly,
as the silence dragged on. "Are we just going to sit here?"
Remy grinned. "Non, of course not." He proceeded to pull a lockpick
out of his sleeve, and Bobby blinked. Remy's grin only grew. "Guess
dey didn' bot'er searchin' us too carefully."
"I guess not."
"If dis one doesn' work, I'll try anot'er." Remy tossed a quick look
back over his shoulder at Cable, who seemed to have found something
very interesting about the ceiling. "No worries, mon ami. Dey haven't
invented de cell yet dat Remy LeBeau can' find his way out of."
Cable grunted and closed his eyes. Bobby watched as Remy started
to work with the lock. And watched. And watched some more while he
went through two more lockpicks, beginning to curse under his breath
"Remy?" Bobby finally asked, hesitantly.
"The lock must be rusty," Cable murmured from his corner, the words
dripping with irony.
Remy gave him an evil look. "Don' rush me."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
The next few minutes were agonizing, as Remy fiddled painstakingly
with the lock. But the curses grew less frequent, and Bobby leaned
forward eagerly as Remy's grin began, ever so slowly, to return. "Almost
dere--" Remy whispered.
The wrong door, one that was almost out of sight, down at the end
of the hall, opened instead, and Bobby winced as two heavily armed
men appeared with suspicious alacrity. One of them leveled his rifle
at Remy, who sighed.
"Now, couldn' you have given me jus' one more minute, homme?" he
"Throw your little toys out into the hall, mutie," one of the guards
said harshly. Remy shrugged, and obeyed. Bobby wondered if he was
being so accommodating because he had more stashed away, or whether
he was just bowing to the inevitable. The guard stooped and picked
them up, and then exchanged a few harsh words with his companion,
who vanished down the hall for a moment, then reappeared with a folding
chair on which he promptly sat, glaring at the three of them. The
first guard shook his head, checked the door, and left.
"Well," Remy said, with a lopsided grin and another shrug. "I guess
dis means no more hanky-panky with de door. And I was enjoyin' myself--"
"Shut up," the guard growled. "No talking."
"Non?" Remy tilted his head, inquisitively. "But don' y'think y'd
get really tired of de quiet after a while, mon ami?"
"I said shut up!"
"Jus' cause y're holdin' us prisoner, don' mean we can' have a civilized
conversation, non?" Remy said, almost wistfully. "I mean, dere are
jus' SO few good conversationalists in our line o'work, mon ami."
"Remy--" Bobby muttered under his breath, half-amused, half-appalled
by the way he kept baiting the guard. "I thought I was supposed to
be the smart-assed one--"
"Not to worry, cher. De man is all talk and no action. See de size
of dat gun? Only those with natural deficiencies need t'carry guns
dat big--" Remy made a vaguely obscene gesture. "If y'know wha' I
"Oh, flonq you, Cajun," Cable growled from the corner. His eyes were
still closed, and he looked like he was trying very hard to nap. Or
concentrate on something. Bobby wasn't sure which, and he wasn't sure
he wanted to know.
"No t'anks, mon ami," Remy said cheerfully. "But I'm touched by de
The guard rose abruptly, smacking his rifle against the bars. "Shut
the fuck up!" he snarled, his eyes a little wild. Bobby, at the moment,
could sympathize. Just a little. "Don't make me come in there!"
Cable's eyes suddenly snapped open. "Oh, go right ahead," he invited,
his voice very soft and his gaze, fixed intently on the guard, very
sharp. "Come on in. We won't bite."
The guard blinked, and then flushed. "You're drugged, they're collared,"
he said, his dismissive tone not quite convincing.
"So?" Cable asked idly.
"So, mutie, if I tell you to shut up, you shut up, or I MAKE you
"Like I said," Cable said, with a lazy, malevolent smile. "Come right
on in and make me shut up. Bring the gun, if you want. I could think
of lots of things to do with it even after I shove it up your ass
and fire off a few rounds, you pathetic little flonq."
Amazing, Bobby reflected. His tone hadn't changed at all, throughout
that whole thing. I should take notes--
"I'm quaking in my boots," the guard snapped. His hands were shaking,
Bobby noticed with a strange little flicker of glee. Glee was not
an appropriate thing to be feeling, the more logical portion of his
mind pointing out. Not when his two cellmates, much as he loved one
and walked softly around the other, were trying to outdo themselves
in a little game of 'let's piss off the man with the very big gun'.
"I can see that." Cable's eye flickered, and the bars rattled again.
The guard jumped backwards with a curse, and went running down the
hallway. Cable grimaced. "Stab my eyes, I shouldn't have done that."
"You got rid of him, though," Bobby pointed out as Remy swiftly 'found'
another lockpick in his uniform and fiddled rapidly with the lock.
"Yeah, but he's going to come right back here with a nice big needle
to stick me with," Cable growled resignedly, drawing the back of his
hand across his eyes in a curiously exhausted gesture. "I don't really
feel like being drugged again, flonq it all, and they're going to
take my little emphatic gesture there as a sign I need another dose."
"Unless we get out of dis place first, mon ami," Remy said through
gritted teeth. "T'ink positively."
"You think positively, Cajun. I like being pessimistic."
The door at the end of the hall opened again, and the guard returned,
with a friend carrying an even bigger run, and a nervous-looking little
man in a white coat, carrying a little silver tray. The first guard
glared at Remy, who swore and tossed his lockpick out of the cell
as he moved back away from the door. The second kicked the lockpick
away, almost absently, unlocked the door, and ushered the little white-coated
The first guard stayed out, his rifle leveled at them, Bobby noticed.
Guess he got the fear of Cable put into him--
That was funnier than it should have been.
The doctor -- if that's what he was -- looked down at Cable rather
diffidently. "If -- you'll just give me your arm," he said, kneeling
down and placing the tray on the floor. He picked up the syringe and
the vial, and Bobby watched in sick fascination as the former slowly
filled with a straw-colored liquid.
"If I don't?" Cable grated, and Bobby blinked as the second guard
turned smoothly and pointed his gun in his direction. Remy, on the
other side of the cell, stiffened. The implication was clear. "Well,"
Cable muttered. "Since you put it that way--" He extended his arm.
The doctor injected him, quickly and efficiently, and then beat a
hasty retreat out of the cell.
The second guard lingered for a moment, giving Remy a hard look.
"Try that again, and you're going to be wishing I'd shot you."
Remy said something in French, icily, that Bobby was fairly sure
was anatomically impossible. Although his French was rusty, admittedly,
so he might be wrong. The guard shook his head with a snort.
"Keep it in mind, mutant. We may not want any of you dead quite yet,
but that that doesn't mean we have to treat you with kid gloves if
you give us any trouble." He gave Cable a measuring look, and then
left the cell, locking it behind him and checking it before he left
It was a really conclusive sound, Bobby thought with a wince. He
looked over at Remy, who was fingering his collar again, his expression
flat, red-black eyes burning with frustration.
Frustration was apt, he decided grimly. Even if Remy did have another
lockpick or three stashed somewhere, he wasn't liable to get a chance
to use them. No, this wasn't going well at all. Our Heroes don't
look like they're making the Daring Escape this time--
"Not so tough now, are you, mutie?" the first guard sneered, glaring
at Cable as he took his seat again. He was still holding his gun like
it was some kind of security blanket, though. "Figured that was all
"Still -- welcome to find out," Cable muttered, but his eyes were
fluttering, as if he couldn't keep them open. Bobby got up and half-walked,
half-staggered over to him, kneeling down at his side. His head spun
at even that slight effort, but he didn't like the look of how fast
whatever that had been was kicking in.
"Cable," he said sharply. Cable's head started to sag towards his
chest, and Bobby reached out, taking him by the shoulders. "Cable?"
"I'm -- fine, Drake," Cable slurred, trying to pull away. But there
was nowhere to go, given that he was already in the corner. He raised
a hand as if to try and break Bobby's grip, but let it fall back limply
to his side.
"You don't look fine." What the hell had they given him, some kind
of sedative? What DID you give a psi to prevent them from using their
powers without actually inhibiting them? "Hey," he said urgently as
Cable slumped, his chin hitting his chest and not coming back up again.
"Shit -- don't go passing out on us, here! Nathan!"
Remy crouched down beside him, taking Cable's pulse. He was silent
for a moment, red-black eyes thoughtful. "I t'ink he's all right,"
he finally said quietly. "Dey don't wan' him awake t'cause trouble
until dey're ready t'start askin' us questions, dat's all."
"I hope you're right," Bobby muttered worriedly, and managed a weak
smile. "I'd hate to have to explain to Scott and Jean if he wasn't--"
he joked feebly.
"We'll jus' keep an eye on him, cher," Remy said reassuringly, shifting
around and leaning back against the wall with a sigh. He smiled dazzlingly
at the guard. "'Sides, look on de bright side. Jus' t'ink how much
more attractive dat one would be after Jeanie gets finished breakin'
him down t'his component atoms."
The guard shifted uncomfortably. Bobby blinked at him for a moment,
and then burst out laughing. It wasn't funny. It REALLY wasn't funny.
He just couldn't seem to stop laughing.
Remy slung an arm around his shoulders, and grinning at the guard.
"Jus' an inside joke," he said amiably. "Nothin' t'worry about."
"Bobby." The voice was very quiet, but insistent. "C'mon, cher. Don'
want y'dozin' off on me."
Well, that wasn't fair. He was so damned tired -- why was Remy going
to begrudge him a nap? It wasn't like he hadn't done his share, today.
Whatever today was. He figured that was maybe a bad sign, not remembering
what day it was, but he couldn't bring himself to get too bothered
"Bobby." More insistent, this time. The sort of voice you didn't
say no to -- at least, the sort of voice HE didn't say no to. Not
when it was using that particular tone, at least. He opened his eyes,
blinking blearily as he reoriented himself.
Cell, right. He was in the circle of Remy's arm, head pillowed on
his shoulder. Not a bad position to be in, all things considered.
He'd be rather enjoying it if it weren't for the headache.
"Not sleeping," he muttered. God, I sound grouchy. What side of
the bed did you wake up on today, Mr. Drake?
"Sure y'weren't." Remy's arm tightened around him. "Jus' don't do
"Yeah, whatever--" Bobby looked up groggily, noticing that there
was a different guard on duty, one reading what looked like a Stephen
King book, of all things, and paying very little attention to them.
"Change of shifts?"
"S'pose so. Either dat or dey're gettin' bored of jus' watchin' us,
like I said dey would. None of 'em seem t'want t'ask us any questions
No questions yet. That was a good thing. After all, it sort of ruined
your day to get tortured for information. Bobby tried to turn his
head to look over at Cable, but stopped mid-motion with a wince. "Shit,"
he complained weakly.
"You could say that, yeah," Bobby sighed, closing his eyes again,
just for a moment. It's just a headache. Deal with it. "Cable
"Out cold, sleepin' de sleep of de just, whatever y'want to call
it," Remy said, briskly. Too briskly, part of Bobby's mind said suspiciously.
But the idea of grilling Remy about it wasn't particularly appealing.
Waste of energy he didn't have, at least. "Kinda worried 'bout you
at de minute, Bobby."
Bobby blinked as Remy shifted around to sit in front of him, one
hand drifting in a light caress over the side of his face as he peered
intently at him. "You don't need to worry," Bobby said automatically,
but Remy shook his head.
"I'm bein' serious, Bobby. Cable said he saw y'get hit in de head.
Y're not showin' any signs that'd tell me f'r sure whether or not
y'have a concussion, but dat might be because y'were in ice form at
de time." Remy's expression tightened. "I don' want t'take de chance,"
he continued, more quietly. "So you jus' stay awake, comprenez-vous?"
Bobby smiled faintly, taking Remy's hand and squeezing it. "Don't
worry about me," he said softly. "Besides, like you said before, we've
got bigger things to worry about."
Remy chuckled softly. "Y'know, Bobby," he said almost teasingly,
"under better circumstance, it'd be interesting t'be locked up with
y'. Opens up all kind of de most interesting possibilities."
Bobby blushed, and couldn't believe he was doing it. Talk about
your change in subjects-- Remy moved back to sit beside him, sliding
an arm around his shoulders again. "Well," Bobby said, trying for
a nonchalant tone. "I did have this intriguing mental image, once--"
"Oh? Tell me more, cher."
"Umm -- it's not the sort of thing you want to share with an audience,"
Bobby said as delicately as he could. At least, it wasn't the sort
of thing HE would want to share with an audience. Any audience.
"Why not? Cable's dead t'de world, and de fan of tacky horror novels
over dere isn't paying any attention to us."
"I'd rather save it for when we get home and the King fan and all
his little friends are shipped back to Genosha so the provisional
government can put them in prison like the pond scum they are," Bobby
said suddenly, giving into a wicked impulse that was, strangely enough,
as clear as day, in sharp contrast to the fog that lingered determinedly
inside his skull. The guard looked up, startled and hostile, and Bobby
waved cheerfully. "Yeah, pal, I'm talking about you. You, your friends,
and your little dog too. If you have a little dog."
Remy actually snickered. "I t'ink you're getting de hang of it, Bobby."
"De right attitude to have in dese situations." Remy grinned at him
fondly. "I knew y'had it in y'."
Bobby smiled crookedly. He was getting into this, absurdly enough.
Maybe he DID have a concussion. "You keep sweet-talking me, Remy LeBeau,
and I'm going to stop worrying about our audience." Out of the corner
of his admittedly still rather blurred vision, he saw the guard watching
them more closely, looking alarmed.
"Oh, cher -- dat's all dat it would take?" Remy almost purred. "Den
y'd better cover y'ears, because I'm going t'sweep you right off your
feet--" The guard was blinking rapidly, and Bobby was trying very
hard not to start snickering. Remy looked thoughtful. "Feet -- y'know,
cher, I've never told y'what gorgeous feet you have--"
#You know, I think I'm glad you and LeBeau prefer each other's
company. Otherwise you might spawn.#
Bobby jerked at the sound of Cable's voice inside his head, and instinctively
started to look around at him. Remy seized him, gently but quite firmly,
and proceeded to give him what could quite fairly be described as
a toe-curling kiss.
"Don' look around, cher," he murmured against Bobby's cheek as he
finally drew back to let them both get some air. "Don' want t'ruin
de game, do y'?"
Game? Bobby wondered wildly. Not that he was really objecting to
the kiss -- but Remy had said that Cable was still unconscious. And
while this was fun, he wasn't really used to thinking about things
like this as a game. Maybe he needed to broaden his horizons?
#I've been awake for the last fifteen minutes, letting the drug
wear off. Keep doing what you're doing. The more distracted the guard
is, the better.#
Distraction -- was that what they were doing? Bobby snuck a glance
over Remy's shoulder at Cable. Who really did look unconscious, damn
#Looks can be deceiving. And what, you think the whole public
display of affection as a diversionary tactic is new? I was using
it while you were still running around in diapers.#
That sort of comparison was really unfair, Bobby thought dazedly
as Remy kissed him again. Especially given that he'd changed Cable's
diapers, more than once--
#Do NOT throw that in my face, Drake.#
"Hey," the guard said a little uneasily, finally putting his novel
down. "Quit that, would you?"
Remy looked around at him. "Go back t'dat book of y'rs, mon ami,"
he said amiably, and nibbled on Bobby's earlobe.
"I said stop that!" the guard blustered, getting up and coming over
to the bars.
#Perfect,# Cable's voice said with a savage sort of satisfaction.
His eyes snapped open, the left spitting golden fire.
And he blew out the front of the cell. The explosion itself was utterly
soundless, but the scream of the bars as they were torn from their
moorings and thrown into the opposite wall of the hallway was almost
deafening. The guard didn't even have the chance to scream.
"Whoa," Bobby said dazedly, as silence fell again. "That had to hurt."
Remy looked irritated as he got up, pulling Bobby along with him,
gently. Bobby wobbled a little on his feet, but the dizziness passed
quickly enough. "Y'couldn't have been a little quieter, homme?" Remy
snapped at Cable.
"Flonq that," Cable muttered, hauling himself awkwardly to his feet.
He looked a little unsteady, still, but he still managed a credible
stalk over to the guard's unconscious form. He tugged something off
the man's belt as he bent to pick up the guard's still -- and rather
miraculously -- intact rifle.
He aimed the small squarish object he'd retrieved first at them,
and Bobby flinched, not sure what to expect until he heard the telling
click from his collar.
"I'm in the mood for a little property damage," Cable growled as
the two of them pulled off their collars. "And I really, really want
to shoot someone." Remy opened his mouth, and Cable leveled a thoroughly
evil look at him. "Don't even start to patronize me, Cajun. I'm in
a shit of a mood."
He turned around and stalked down the hall. Bobby gave a half-appalled,
half-bemused look, and his lover shrugged, a smile tugging at his
"Should we follow him and make sure he doesn't kill anyone?" Bobby
Remy shrugged again. "Why bother?" he asked. "Wouldn' you much rather
"Um, NO." The prospect of explaining to Scott and Jean how their
son had gotten hurt had been an unpleasant one, but it wasn't nearly
as bad as the prospect of trying to tell them why he and Remy had
let Nathan go on a homicidal rampage.
"Merde. Y'know how much I love y', cher, but y'always got t'do t'ings
the hard way," Remy chuckled.
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