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It started with a bang. The building around Spencer shook, plaster falling into his hair. Morgan’s eyes shot to the ceiling in alarm, hand on his gun. His other rose to his ear, touching the comm there. “Hotch?” Another blast shook the building. “Hotch, man, come on.”
“Morgan,” said Reid, voice shaking with the next quake, “we need to leave.”
Morgan huffed out an aggravated sigh. “I know, kid. C’mon.” He dropped his hand from the comm and started running the way they came, listening for Reid’s footsteps behind him. Another blast, stumbling, steady steps.
Turning a sharp corner into the corridor with the stairwell revealed a collapsed ceiling and two men sprinting full tilt at them. Reid instinctively backpedaled and Morgan reached for his gun, but halted when the shorter of the two growled, “We don’t have time for this shit,” and shoved Morgan backwards, continuing to do so until Morgan was turned around and running in the opposite direction of the stairs. The tall one herded Reid, running just behind him with hands held out in front of himself.
Ahead of them was a window, glass already broken by the blasts. “Take de muscle man an’ jump, Wolvie,” said the tall one while pushing Reid closer to the short one and Morgan. “Gambit got de ot’er one.”
Wolvie (Reid was starting to make connections now, his brain working on overtime to keep up with everything, and he wondered what the X-Men were doing here, then wondered if they were the reason there was currently considering jumping out of a second story window) grunted and cleared the glass away from the sill, then grabbed Morgan by the waist and launched himself and Morgan out of the window, all the while Morgan protesting loudly.
Reid could faintly hear the thump of their landing and rushed to the window. Morgan was rolling off of Wolverine, groaning, and Wolverine was lying on his back, breathing shallowly and - if Spencer had the right idea - waiting for whatever broke in the fall to heal.
“All righ’, petite,” said Gambit, pulling Reid away from the window, “Gambit need ya t’ climb on his back an’ hold on tight. Gonna getcha down nice an’ easy, oui?”
Reid stared at him, then the metal staff that he produced from his trench coat. He swallowed. “Please don’t get us killed.”
Gambit threw his back to laugh, then winked over his sunglasses with strange eyes. “Don’ worry, cher. Gambit know what he doin’.” Plaster rained down in front of him.
Gambit crouched before him, letting Reid cling to his back. He straightened easily and climbed onto the sill, careful of the load on his back. He brought the staff out in front of him, then jumped.
Reid wasn’t too clear on what happened next thanks to his eyelids, but he felt the air rush by them, first vertically, then horizontally. When he opened his eyes, he was on the ground, still clinging to Gambit. Morgan was standing now, probably aching like nothing else but alive, and Wolverine was staggering to his feet, a loud pop echoing around them when he straightened to his full height.
Slowly, Reid slid off of Gambit, standing on noodle legs and gripping the man’s trench coat. Gambit was hiding his staff away in his coat, looking for all the world like he hadn’t just leaped out of an explosion-riddled two story building.
Wolverine snorted. “C’mon, the others found yer team already.” He started running towards the woods.
“Others?!” demanded Morgan. He looked at Reid who looked back with raised eyebrows before taking off after Wolverine, leaving him alone with Gambit.
Gambit turned to him and gave him a charming smile. “Le’s not keep y’r amis waitin’, oui?”
Reid took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. “I suppose we shouldn’t.” He started walking in the direction that Morgan ran off in. He didn’t think his legs could take running at the moment. Another blast shook the ground and this time the entire right side of the building collapsed. “What is that?” he asked, looking to Gambit.
He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. “Well, we may o’ may not have triggered de self-destruct sequence in de basement,” he said.
Reid’s brows furrowed. “What was in the basement that could warrant a self-destruct sequence?”
“Dere was a lab down dere, y’ see,” said Gambit. He grinned. “Prob’ly shouldn’ be tell’n’ y’ mo’ den dat, me. Fearless already gonna have m’ hide fo’ dis.”
They walked in silence for a while, leaving the building in ruins behind them. Reid wondered what they would tell the local police when they got back to the station - if they got back to the station. He didn’t know where they were going. He didn’t know why he was following this man - a supposed terrorist - blindly. He couldn’t wrap his head around the entire night.
“Whatchu thinkin’ so hard ‘bout, cher?”
Reid blinked and looked at Gambit. Gambit looked back with raised eyebrows. “My name’s Reid,” he blurted. Gambit’s eyebrows climbed higher. “Erm,” he looked down, “SSA Dr. Spencer Reid.”
Gambit’s eyebrows stayed high on his face, but he smiled. “Remy LeBeau,” he replied. He looked forward again. “An’ here we are.”
“What do you - oh.” The air seemed to shimmer for a moment, then the clearing they had wandered into was suddenly filled by a large black aircraft. “What?” Reid was trying to explain it with whatever knowledge he had available, but he couldn’t come up with an explanation for such incredible cloaking technology.
Remy laughed. “M’ sure M. Bete will be glad t’ talk ‘bout it some time, mais right now? We gotta go.”
…
As promised, the rest of Reid’s team was on the craft, gathered around each other and watching the X-Men around them with calculating eyes. JJ’s eyes were the first to alight on Reid. “Spencer!” she cried, breaking away from the group and stealing him into a hug, then away from Remy.
“Took ya long enough, Gumbo,” said Wolverine from where he was lounging back in a seat on the wall, looking relaxed except for the clench of his teeth around an unlit cigar.
“Y’ know me,” said he, “wanted t’ get t’ know de petite b’fore Gambit t’rew ‘im t’ de wolves.” Remy dropped himself into a seat beside Wolverine and sprawled out, a complete facade of nonchalance.
Reid’s team was unharmed besides a shallow graze to Emily’s left temple. They, like himself, knew who they were dealing with. Morgan suggested they make a run for it. There was a switch to open the ramp not far from them. Rossi suggested they ask to see the leader, a much more viable option.
Wolverine huffed - probably in amusement. “One Eye’ll be here in a minute.”
“In de meantime,” said Remy with a wolfish grin, “why don’t we all introduce ourselves? Gambit already know de petite an’ de petite already know him, but y’ can’ all go by Scary FBI Goon Number One, oui?”
When the others turned to look at Reid, he smiled and shrugged, much more at ease with being in a UFO with a group of possible terrorists than he probably should have been. Hotch took the helm. “SSA Aaron Hotchner. This is my team, SSAs…”
Reid tuned out and took to observing the inside of the craft. It was black and sleek, as was the outside. The cockpit door was open, revealing a panel of blinking lights and switches not horribly unlike those of a standard plane.
The smell of sulfur reached his nose just as he saw movement in the copilot’s seat. “There’s someone in the cockpit,” he said, interrupting Hotch’s subtle interrogation.
Remy and Logan leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the intruder before leaning back again. “Dat’s jus’ Nightcrawler,” said Remy. “He’s shy.”
“Say hi, Elf,” Wolverine called.
A blue, furry face appeared around the edge of the chair, yellow eyes staring out at them. He lifted a three-fingered hand in a wave. Spencer waved back as cheerfully as he could manage. He understood feeling awkward, he could handle that.
Emily stepped forward a bit, her face drawn in a frown. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that you and your team pulled us out when things started going south, but why are we still here?”
“Yer here on a case?” asked Wolverine. At the team’s collective nod, he said, “So are we. We tracked an old enemy down here. Murder isn’t really his MO, and if he does kill someone, he has them killed by someone who doesn’t do clean work.”
Reid followed where he was going with this and said, “You think your enemy was luring us?”
“We got reason t’ believe so, mon petite génie.” Reid fought down a blush with limited success. “Dat’s why we gonna take y’ wit’ us.”
Reid grimaced as most of the team erupted into protest. They had families to get back to, or animals to feed. He didn’t have anything waiting for him but a half-finished book on nematodes and Solaris on DVD, still unopened. He carried Elle’s badge and Gideon’s note with him. Everything else was replaceable. His stomach ached.
“Can we go back to the hotel to get our go bags?” he murmured. The ruckus around him died down. His skin felt tight.
Both Remy and Wolverine regarded him silently before Remy spoke. “Sure we can, petite génie.”
…
Reid sat with his messenger bag in his lap and his go bag at his feet. He watched the X-Men interact among themselves and partially with his team. Storm, the woman with white hair, was sitting at Remy’s feet, making small talk with Rossi and JJ while Remy braided her hair. She called him brother when they first arrived.
Wolverine - Logan, actually, according to Storm - sat beside Remy still, strapped in and clutching the armrests with white-knuckled fingers, eyes squeezed shut. Emily was sitting beside him, keeping up a quiet stream of conversation to give him something to focus on. Reid was reminded once again why he enjoyed her company so much.
The leader, Scott, was in the cockpit with Nightcrawler. He spoke minimally but with authority when they first arrived. His wife, Jean, was talking to Hotch about the arrangements being made in regards to where the team would be staying.
Morgan sat in stony silence, watching the room with suspicion.
Reid was anxious. His stomach twisted and turned in a way that had nothing to do with the smooth-as-butter flight. He was mulling over what Remy and Logan had said. He was too familiar with this kind of manipulation, the kind that drew everyone in without a single person knowing it. It had happened with Hankel; they hadn’t realized they were being had until Reid was gone, suffering for two long days. He swallowed.
Remy met his eyes over Storm’s head as if he could hear what Reid was thinking. He grinned like the sun and winked over his sunglasses again, revealing his strange eyes. Reid was thoroughly distracted from then on.
…
The arrangements made were rooms on the top floor of Xavier’s mansion and restricted access to the basement - as in “no access”. Remy and Logan were living on the same floor, which Reid suspected was a play on Xavier’s part to protect his students.
“You haven’t given us anything substantial about who is hunting us,” said Hotch during the meeting, arms crossed and eyes as hawk-like as ever.
Xavier nodded. “The man we are both looking for is Doctor Nathaniel Essex, known in the mutant community as Sinister.” Reid perked up. He knew that name, had read scientific journals under that name. He was a relatively well-known geneticist. “He experiments on mutants. He has a team known as the Marauders that is made up of clones. Sinister himself is a shapeshifter.
“He is incredibly dangerous and the fact that he is showing any interest in your team at all puts you all in grave danger. I suggest all of you call your immediate family and have them brought here or put under protection immediately. Sinister is not above attacking those close to us to drag us out.”
He turned to Reid. “Dr. Reid, I have been made aware of your mother’s situation and have sent one of my own operatives to protect her. She is not aware of this, but the mutant hospital staff has been made aware of Rogue’s presence. Your mother will be under 24 hour surveillance.”
Reid swallowed and chose not to ask how he knew. “Thank you,” he croaked.
Hotch sighed. “I will call my boss and alert her of the situation. The secondary BAU team will be on call until we get back. I’ll have her send Garcia.” He made eye contact with Xavier. “Are you sure this is the only way to solve this?”
“I am sure. Sinister is like no criminal you have ever faced. He is not human and he does not have human colleagues. The designs he has for one or all of you are not that of your type of villain, I can assure you.”
Reid was the first to leave the room when the meeting concluded. He found the bedroom he was staying in and sat, despondent, on his bed for two hours until Ororo called the team down for dinner.
…
Remy showed him the library the next day.
“Remy figured y’ look like de type t’ read a lot,” he said in explanation, smiling that sun-bright smile that warmed Reid’s insides. “De professeur uses it de most, mais y’ can stay in here much as y’ want. Don’ have to stay locked up in y’r room all de time.” His grin turned mischievous. “O’ y’ can come find Remy an’ he keep y’ entertained for a bit, oui?”
“Thank you,” Reid said, a genuine smile softening his face. He looked up those precious few inches between them.
Remy stared at him in silence for a moment, mouth quirked in a smile. Quietly, he said, “I have a collection o’ m’ own books y’ can borrow if y’ want. Dey’re mostly in French, mais I got de feelin’ y’ speak it jus’ fine.”
“Oui,” murmured Reid, and Remy laughed, breaking the tender moment between them.
“Gonna have t’ work on y’r accent, me, ‘cause dat was très mauvais.” Reid smiled impishly.
…
Garcia’s arrival was full of humor for everyone. She came teetering up the driveway in her mile-high heels, jewelry clanking and purse in hand, Morgan lugging her bags behind her. She greeted the team with individual hugs and mother henning, going so far as to lift Reid off the ground with her hug and crying, “Oh, my baby, have they been feeding you?”
Those gathered laughed and Remy put a hand on Reid’s shoulder when he was set down, leaning forward to say, “Don’ gotta worry ‘bout feedin’ him, mademoiselle. Jeanie and Stormie been cookin’ like de world’s endin’ and de only t’ing dat can save it be green bean casserole.”
Jack arrived with Will and Henry shortly after. The children greeted their respective parents before setting their sights on the team. Henry was quick to find Reid and be lift onto his hip, exclaiming, “Uncle Penny!” Reid grinned at his godson and hugged Jack to him carefully when he came by.
Remy hummed. “Penny, huh?” He grinned.
…
A week into their mandatory vacation, the X-Men found a lead in Oregon. Reid stood outside the War Room, watching them decide on a plan of action. As they began to file out, he fell into line with Logan and Remy. “Be careful,” he said.
Logan grinned roguishly. “I ain’t here to be careful, pup,” he replied, pulling gently on a strand of his hair. He left the two where they had stopped.
Remy turned to him and pulled his sunglasses off. His eyes were quickly becoming Reid’s favorite feature. Remy smiled and placed his hands on either side of Reid’s face, pulling him forward to press a firm kiss to his lips. Reid didn’t have time to reciprocate before he was pulling back. “I gotta be careful if I got dat t’ come back t’, oui?”
The daze he was in faded. He smiled, hands loosening their grip on Remy’s coat. “You have to come back to be my entertainment. I would be so bored without you.”
Remy laughed gently and kissed Reid again. It was like swallowing sunshine. “Y’ sure are a persuasive connard, Remy give y’ dat.”
…
Reid was getting restless. They had been off duty for almost a month. He couldn’t make the books in the house last much longer, especially considering he had read some of them before even arriving at the mansion. He didn’t think he could resort to dime store paperback romance without actually losing his mind.
Remy curled a piece of hair around his finger idly. “Y’ could teach,” he said. His other hand flipped a playing card knuckle over knuckle. “De professeur could prob’ly use some new blood, oui? He also tryin’ t’ get Remy t’ teach. ‘Sides, de summer’s almost over.”
“Why don’t you?” asked Reid. He put down Dead Souls and lent further into Remy’s side. “You could teach French. Or maybe art history?”
Remy shook his head. “Non, Penny, I don’ have de brain fo’ teachin’.” He rapped on Reid’s head gently. “Mais y’ do, mon petite génie. Y’ got what, six degrees? Professeur would be happy t’ have y’r brain even fo’ a bit.”
“Five and a half,” said Reid absently. He was considering Remy’s suggestion carefully.
…
Reid fell back onto their shared bed, bouncing Remy gently. “Who knew teaching was so hard?” he groaned, stretching before falling limp to the mattress.
“Anyone who ever taught, Remy t’ink,” replied Remy. He crawled across the bed until he was hovering over Reid’s slack face. “C’mon, t’ain’t dat bad. Dey’re jus’ 14, not 3.”
“I’ve never dealt with teenagers before. I graduated high school when I was 12, Rem. I can do toddlers, I have toddler experience. Teenagers are a whole other beast.” He sighed and opened his eyes. Remy’s were above his, smiling down at him, and he basked in the warmth.
“Y’ gotta learn t’ enjoy it, cher, even if it’s temporary.” He covered Reid’s body with his own, bracketing his head with his forearms and leaning down to kiss him leisurely.
When he pulled back to breathe, Reid said, “Rem?”
“Oui?”
“When this is-” he stopped, took a breath. “When this whole Sinister business is over and I go back to DC, will we still-” He cut himself off again. He didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
Remy did, though, and covered Reid’s mouth with his own again, taking his time. “Gonna take a lot mo’ den a lil distance t’ keep me ‘way from y’, Penny.” He grinned and peppered Reid’s face with light kisses, making him laugh. “Mon bijou, mon coeur, mon beau génie,” he pulled up, staring down at Reid’s face with a small smile, soft and intimate, “mon amour.”
Reid’s smile turned watery, if only slightly, and he murmured back, “Mon soleil.”
A breathless laugh escaped Remy. “Y’r accent is better, I see.”
“You’re a great teacher,” said Reid before pulling Remy once more into a kiss.