Thick as Thieves - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Valerie Jones and Lori McDonald
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 13

What are you doing, Bobby? Remy is going to kill you if he finds out about this. The young man know as Iceman took a deep breath and carefully snipped the wire he was holding. He watched the small meter he had attached, looking for a spike in the system current that would give him away. But the needle only quivered, and Bobby released his pent breath in a silent sigh. His hands were much steadier than he felt as he unclipped the meter and put it away, along with the wire cutters. That should be the last circuit. Should be. This was the first time he'd ever gone solo, and he found himself wishing for Gambit's steadying presence, and the stupid jokes that were so good for distracting Bobby from his fear.

With the alarm circuit re-routed, Bobby checked the window and then slid it upward with a gentle scrape. He froze, waiting for an alarm from the guards he knew were inside. After several minutes of silence, he climbed through the window and crouched in the darkness, studying the room. A grand piano dominated the floor, opposite a huge, but currently unused fireplace. Bobby rose and walked soundlessly across the lacquered tile floor. The stairs were off to his left. He took them one at a time, placing his feet near the edge since that was where they were least likely to creak. But it was really a matter of balancing his weight properly and not moving too fast that would let him climb like a ghost up the spiraling staircase. He remembered vividly doing this at the mansion in the middle of the night-up and down, again and again-until he could run the stairs without making a sound.

He emerged on the upstairs hallway and hesitated. There would be at least one guard outside the room. Bobby expected him to be sleeping, which, as he peered down the hall, he appeared to be doing. That was good. Bobby reached into his bag and pulled out the small syringe he had taken from the mansion infirmary. Hank had been more than happy to let his old friend help with restocking the emergency medical supplies, and Bobby had simply filled an extra for himself. It was just a sedative, but it was extremely fast acting because it was intended for use on mutants who could do significant amounts of damage in a few moments of delirium.

Bobby slipped closer to the sleeping guard. He started to bend over the man, then paused in sheer terror as he became suddenly aware of where he was and what he was doing. What if the guard woke just then?

Don't think, man! Just do it! he snarled at himself and covered the guard's mouth with his hand. The man's eyes flew open. Bobby jabbed the syringe into the base of his neck and felt the rigid form relax almost instantly.

Bobby allowed himself a short moment to close his eyes and catch his breath, but then he went past the sleeping guard and rapped very gently on the door.

"Yes?"

Bobby opened the door a ways and peeked around it. "Hi."

Diedre's eyes flew open in surprise. "Bobby! What are you doing here?!" Her expression was a mixture of delight and alarm. She came to the door and grabbed his arm, nearly dragging him inside. Her gaze fell on the sleeping guard.

"What--?"

"He's just sleeping," Bobby hurried to reassure her. She looked up at him, then back at the guard. Quickly she shut the door. Bobby was amazed at how natural it felt to draw her into his arms and hug her tightly. Diedre returned the hug with enthusiasm, but then she pulled back to look up at him.

"Are you insane?" she asked, her blue eyes wide and wild. "What if Michael found you here?"

"Michael is out of town." Bobby gripped both her shoulders. "And I had to see you."

Slowly, Diedre began to shake her head. "You shouldn't have come here." She pulled away from his grasp, tightening her robe around her as she did so. The robe was silk, the color of warm chocolate, and although it made her look pale, it also brought out the color in her hair and lips.

"Why not?" Bobby felt betrayed. Breaking the security on Michael's private residence had not been easy. "I thought it might be nice to have a little time alone."

Diedre stared at him, lips trembling. Then she came back to him in a rush, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face against his chest. Bobby simply held her, wondering at the feel of it.

"Why don't we sit down." There was a divan in the room, and Bobby guided her toward it. That seemed much more appropriate than sitting down on the bed. Diedre settled next to him, and with a small smile, twined her fingers into his. Bobby wondered if he looked as dizzy as he felt. He squeezed her hand, and her smile widened.

"I can't believe you broke into my house."

Bobby felt his cheeks redden. "Yeah, well. . . " Neither can I. "Let's just not tell anybody, o.k.?"

"O.k." She curled her legs up on the divan, tucking her bare toes beneath the hem of her robe. After a moment, she giggled.

"What is it?"

Diedre patted his hand and sighed. "Bobby Drake, what am I going to do with you?" Her blue eyes were full of mischief and laughter.

Bobby began to laugh himself. "Do you want suggestions?"

It was her turn to blush as her smile faded. "No." She turned to look directly at him. "That would hurt too much."

"Diedre?"

She untangled her hand from his and stood up, crossing her arms over her breast as she walked toward the center of the room. When she turned back toward him, her eyes were shining with tears. "I haven't felt. . . the way you make me feel for so long, I'd almost forgotten what it was like." She made a helpless gesture. "But I'm married, Bobby. I can't do this."

Bobby stood up and walked over to her, but didn't try to touch her. "Why do you stay with him, then? Michael doesn't love you."

Diedre flinched and turned her face away. "I guess. . . I guess I knew that. Almost since the day I married him."

Bobby had never felt so much helpless rage. It boiled around inside him, but it didn't threaten his sanity or his self-control. It simply made him sick inside to see how much Michael had hurt this woman Bobby loved.

"Why did you marry him?"

Silent tears spilled down her cheeks as Diedre turned to look at him. "Because I fell in love with him." Slowly, she hung her head, and Bobby could see her shoulders quivering. "Now, he doesn't even use me for sex." It was barely more than a whisper.

Bobby felt like a knife had been driven straight into his heart. He wrapped his arms around Diedre, swearing to himself that he would never let her go. She jerked like a startled deer in his embrace, then stood still, rigid within the circle of his arms. Bobby could feel her swallowing convulsively against the sobs locked in her throat, and hugged her harder, until he was afraid her would hurt her. But then the strings on her heart snapped. They sank to the floor together as violent sobs wracked her. Bobby pressed his lips against her hair as she clung to him and finally released the anguish she had held inside for so long.

Bobby had no idea later how long he sat in the middle of her floor. Diedre eventually fell asleep as her sobs diminished to small, shuddering breaths. Bobby stroked her hair, his mind empty. Eventually, he rose with Diedre in his arms. He took her to the bed and laid her down in it, then pulled the covers up around her, tucking her in with all the gentleness he possessed. She stirred only slightly, her lips curving into a sweet smile. Nearly in tears himself, Bobby leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Good night, my love."

In a small, windowless room at the other end of the house, Frank reached over and pushed a button beneath the TV monitor. The picture of Bobby kissing Diedre goodnight disappeared in a flash of snow as the videotape popped out of the recorder. Frank pulled the tape out and slid it into another slot. The high speed rewinder whirred like a tiny jet engine as it cranked the tape backwards. When it was finished, Frank retrieved the tape and pushed it back into its original slot.

"Oops, sorry boss," he murmured to himself as the image returned, this time of Diedre sleeping peacefully, alone. "I guess I got the tapes mixed up and put the old one back in." He grinned. "Wasn't nothin' on it though. I was watchin'."

Professor Charles Xavier scrolled once more through the Danger Room program commands for the next session, then closed down the window. Scott, who had been leaning over his shoulder to read the list, straightened and looked down into the Danger Room as Charles started the loading process. Five X-Men were currently in the room below. They were taking advantage of the opportunity to rest, stretch and prepare for the next session. This morning, they were doing round-robin four-on-one scenarios, which meant that each of the five took a turn being singled out and assaulted by four of his fellow X-Men, along with whatever else Charles decided to throw against them. It was an attempt to train the X-Men to react properly when cut off from the rest of the team.

The door behind Charles and Scott slid open and Gambit walked in. He was in uniform, and still sheened in sweat from the last round. At Charles request, Bishop had just taken his place in the Danger Room. Charles glanced up as Gambit came up beside him at the console. He did not need his powers to identify the defensive anger crackling in the young man's eyes.

Gambit's gaze flicked between Charles and Scott. "Y' wan' tell me why y' pulled me out?"

Scott's jaw tightened. "We thought it would be best for Bobby if you weren't in on this one."

Charles winced mentally. These two never missed an opportunity to take a shot at the other. What Scott said was true, but he'd managed to phrase it in as insulting a manner as possible. Gambit's red irises lit with that unsettling glow as the barb struck home. But before he could retaliate, Charles jumped in.

"I wanted you to be free to observe the session, Remy. I was hoping that an additional perspective might help me to determine the best direction to take with Bobby's training."

The anger dimmed as Gambit considered his words. Then his mouth quirked into a wry smile. "Time t' see how much he's learned, eh?"

"Yes. Storm has been very pleased with his progress."

Gambit didn't answer, but turned to look down into the Danger Room. Charles had grown used to his abrupt silences, and was not offended. But Scott, he could sense, was annoyed. He didn't show it, though, as he also turned toward the window, clasping his hands behind him in a casual parade rest stance. Charles observed both men surreptitiously. So different in personality and appearance, he wondered which would be most disturbed by the remarkable similarities Charles saw in them. The mental image that thought conjured brought a smile which he quickly hid as he busied himself at the controls. With a final typed command, he started the next scenario.

The four facing Iceman in a loose semi-circle were Phoenix, Storm, Bishop, and Wolverine. They waited as their surroundings shimmered and darkened, slowly filling with the ruins of a city. Mounds of rubble supported the remains of skyscrapers. Wrecked vehicles lined the street on which the five X-Men stood. It was a desolate scene, one filled with shadows and corners. A perfect place to hunt down a lone mutant.

The area just behind Iceman was piled high with scraps of rusted metal and huge chunks of cement. They leaned drunkenly against each other, leaving just enough space between the misshapen pieces for a person to crawl through. Charles had designed the acre-long pile as a kind of maze. There were dozens of entrances, and a true warren of tunnels throughout the junkpile.

As if on cue, Wolverine took two steps to his left and disappeared into the shadows between buildings. Jean began to rise in a telekinetic bubble, Storm following on her winds just a few yards away. Bishop moved in the opposite direction as Wolverine, his gun held ready. To Charles' surprise, Iceman did not immediately switch to his ice form. Instead, he noted the movements of the other X-Men, and ducked into the maze of wreckage. He quickly became invisible to the naked eye, though the Danger Room thermal sensors painted him as a clear red form on Charles' console. Charles was pleased. The maze seemed like an easy place for Iceman to become trapped, but it was also gave him access to several parts of the Danger Room environs that might be more favorable to his powers. Charles had purposefully set the X-Men in an area almost entirely hemmed in by broken buildings, where Bobby would have limited room to maneuver.

Wolverine and Bishop spread out toward opposite ends of the maze, climbing nimbly over the wreckage. Charles could tell from their postures that they felt that Bobby had neatly trapped himself. Jean and Storm formed the other two points of a square with their grounded teammates. They both circled the ruin slowly, searching.

Charles waited quietly, allowing the combatants a few minutes to maneuver. Then he hit a switch, sending a flight of robots armed with lasers and miniature missiles after Iceman. They made their first run past the piles of twisted cement and metal, raining explosive darts. Charles felt Bobby flinch as the missiles tore chunks out of his shelter, but he could sense no panic from the young man. That in itself was unusual. More often than not, Bobby maintained a state of barely contained terror in combat. But right now, he continued to work his way through the maze, making slow but purposeful progress. He seemed to be headed for an open area beyond the ring of buildings, where a section of a broad street cut through the ruins.

"Can ya spot him, Jeannie?" Wolverine's question came to the observers through the comlinks the four searchers were wearing. Charles' display put Wolverine nearly a hundred yards from Iceman's position. As he watched, Wolverine hunkered down for a moment, sniffing.

"He's in the western quadrant of this pile somewhere, but I can't pin him down better than that." Jean pointed to indicate the place when Logan looked up at her. He nodded and moved that direction at a jog. Bishop saw her signal as well, and started working his way from the other side. Mentally, Charles shook his head. Bobby had stayed in there too long, and was quickly losing his advantage. Charles had the horrible suspicion that they would flush Iceman like a rabbit once he realized how close they were getting. Nor was he wrong.

"There!" A lightning bolt followed Storm's pointing finger as Bobby darted out of the sheltering ruin. It struck just behind his crouched form as he sprinted toward the opening that would give him access to the street area. He dove around the corner of the building, disappearing from sight once more. Then the thermal image of him went blank as he transitioned to ice. No more than thirty yards away, Bishop and Wolverine increased their pace to follow him. Momentarily blocked by the highrise building that Bobby was using for cover, Jean and Storm split up, circling the structure to take up positions on the far side.

Jean's voice through the comlink was full of surprise. "Where'd he go?"

"Is there a problem, Jean?" Bishop asked.

Charles could see her bobbing midair as she studied the far side of the building intently. "I don't think so, but I don't see Iceman anywhere. He has probably gone ice since I can't sense much from him any more. You and Logan be careful."

Scott turned to Charles, his frown hinting at hidden worry. "I don't like this, Professor."

"Why not?" Charles was feeling stirrings of alarm himself. Despite his fear, or perhaps because of it, Bobby was always quick to jump into a fight.

"It's not like Iceman. Can you sense anything from him?"

Charles touched the controls before him, switching the displays to a new set of cameras that clearly showed the street Iceman had turned onto. Bobby was, indeed, nowhere in sight.

"I don't sense anything unusual," Charles said. "He seems to have some kind of plan." And he did. Charles could not pry that deeply while Bobby was in ice form since the transformation vastly modified the operation of his brain, but even on the surface Bobby's thoughts were organized and purposeful.

Storm dropped to hover only fifteen feet above the street. She turned a slow circle, her iris-less eyes scanning every detail of the scene. Wolverine reached the corner of the building and looked up at her, but she only shrugged. Cautiously, he started down the street, claws extended. He moved with the fluid grace of a predator, his head swinging from side to side as he searched the empty street for signs of his quarry. Bishop followed a short distance behind, walking backwards to keep the area behind Logan covered.

They were smart. They were careful. They never stood a chance.

In the observation room, Gambit began to chuckle. It was a surprisingly gleeful sound from the normally solemn young man. Charles glanced over at him, curious.

"Care to share the joke?" Scott asked sharply.

Gambit didn't take his eyes off the scene below. "Jus' watch, mon ami." For once, he didn't take Scott's bait. He seemed entirely enthralled by the two mutants who moved in disciplined unison down the center of the street below.

Just then, the street seemed to ripple, as if seen through a heat mirage. Charles glanced involuntarily at his readouts, thinking that the holographic projection equipment had failed. But then his gaze jumped back to the street as it gave a mighty heave, tossing Wolverine and Bishop into the air like mismatched dice. A wave of ice rolled beneath the uprooted surface, making it crack and shudder. Charles was a bit surprise by how forcefully Iceman had ripped up the section of cement, but he was pleased by how effectively Logan and Bishop had been thrown off guard.

The two men curled up midair in anticipation of a hard landing, but before they had even reached the top of their trajectories, tentacles of ice tore through the remaining chunks of the street, wrapping around the two mutants until they were completely hidden from view. The bundles looked like strange cocoons, each one sitting neatly atop a pillar of ice. Ice spread around the base of the pillars, and from this surface Iceman rose with fluid grace, taking shape directly out of the thin layer of ice.

A white bolt of light struck the pod holding Bishop. Ice chips exploded from the surface in a cloud of vapor, but when the mist cleared the surface appeared to be only slightly damaged. As Charles watched, the gouge seemed to repair itself.

Iceman created an ice slide, rising quickly to Storm's level, but keeping a cautious distance.

"Tag! You're it!" he called to her. With a gesture, he sent a flight of ice arrows shooting towards her, forcing her to defend herself. A sudden gale shattered the arrows, but Bobby was already diving away from her, leaving a trail of ice across the sky. Storm turned and flew after him.

The two pods shattered under Jean's telepathic assault, and she lowered both men to the ground. Both were unconscious, which Charles had known since the moment it happened. He was impressed. Bobby had lowered both men's body temperatures just far enough to put them out without harming them. And with one simple stroke, he had eliminated two of his pursuers.

Jean gave each man a cursory inspection, then she looked up toward the observation booth. "Bishop's temperature is already back to normal. Logan is still cold. His healing factor seems to have kicked in to keep frostbite at bay, but Bobby was actually holding him unconscious with the temperature." She sounded impressed herself.

Scott turned to Gambit. "How did you know he was going to do that?"

Remy shrugged. "Easy. De street looked wet."

"The street looked wet?" Scott repeated in disbelief. "Since when has Bobby been turning himself into water? That's the only way he could have fit beneath the street without deforming it."

Gambit shrugged again, apparently unaffected by the vague accusation in Scott's tone. "Dunno." Then the smug grin that had been fading from his face returned in full. "But if I had ice powers, dat's exactly what I would have done."

He turned back to the windows, leaving Scott fuming silently. Charles reached over and put a placating hand on his arm. "Relax, Scott. You must admit, it's a creative solution."

Scott glanced down at him, and Charles could feel his disapproval. "I'd call it cowardly. It was an ambush."

Gambit snorted. "So? It worked, didn' it?"

"Yes, but that's not the point."

Gambit's eyebrows quirked comically. "'Not de point'? Den what is de point if it ain' survivin'?"

Scott sighed. "Forget it, Remy. You wouldn't understand."

Gambit's eyes flared to life as he stared at Scott. "Try me." His expression was dangerous, and the eerie red glow to his eyes only made him seem more threatening. Briefly, Charles wondered just how much control Gambit had over that effect. His eyes tended to glow whenever he was angry or upset, making it seem like an involuntary response, but Charles knew how effectively he could use his appearance to intimidate. When it came time to fight, Remy tended to look more like a prince of Hell than a mere mutant, and Charles was curious how much he'd done to cultivate that.

Events in the Danger Room distracted Charles from his musings. Bobby had brought his slide to a stop near the roof of the Danger Room. He stood on the lip of the slide, watching Storm as she hovered a short distance away. Ororo gathered lightning around her hands in two glowing balls. Specifically with her in mind, the ceiling of the room was made of non-conductive material, so she was unhindered as she threw twin bolts of electricity at him. One was aimed at the ice slide beneath Bobby's feet. The other was aimed directly at his chest.

In the split second as Storm fired, Charles saw Iceman's normally opaque form become translucent and take on an oddly shimmering quality. The lightning bolt struck him squarely and then disappeared, save for a puff of vapor where it hit. Charles smiled. Storm had been telling him how much control Iceman was gaining over his state. And now, as he maintained himself as a being of water instead of ice, he became a perfect conductor of electricity. Storm's lightning was no longer a threat to him.

The second lightning bolt, however, shattered the ice slide. Bobby's human form lost definition as he suddenly plummeted toward the floor in a cascade of water.

#Charles!# Jean's mental voice was tight with alarm. #Should I catch him?#

Charles paused, uncertain. But he answered, No, Jean. Then he watched in mild terror as the amorphous ball of water struck the ground. It splashed down, spreading out across the street in a widening circle that darkened the cement as it ran toward the lowest places.

Silence reigned in the Danger Room as the two women settled on the ground just outside the limits of the circle of dampness. Jean dropped to her knees, extending a hand so that her fingers almost, but not quite, touched the wet ground. Charles, too, spread his mind wide, searching for Bobby's presence on the astral plane. If he hadn't so recently seen Iceman pull himself out of the pores of this very street, he would have believed him dead. But now he was almost certain that the young mutant somehow remained a living entity despite his current scattered form.

A hand of ice reached out of the street and grabbed Jean's wrist. She yelped in surprise as it dragged her forward, unbalancing her. Then a foot materialized out of the ground, completing the maneuver and throwing her bodily across the street. Jean protected herself with a telekinetic shield as she slammed into a car parked on the curb. As she regained her footing, Iceman seemed to roll out of the cement. He came to his feet in a crouch, then slowly straightened. Behind him, Storm drew her hand across her throat in the universal signal, and Charles shut down the Danger Room.

Scott glanced over at the Professor. "Why is she stopping the session?"

Instead of answering, Charles touched the control that would patch them into the comlinks. "Storm, is something wrong?" he asked. He found himself very curious what Ororo's answer might be.

"No, Charles." She looked up toward the observation booth.

"Then would you like me to restart the scenario?"

Storm cocked her head. "I do not see that it would serve any purpose, Charles." There was something almost. . . sad? in her voice. And when he brushed her mind, he felt a sense of joy, of pride in the accomplishment of a friend, but also a deep-seated melancholy. Charles made a mental note to ask her about it later, when they had an opportunity to talk privately.

"Very well. If Bishop and Logan are ready to rejoin us, we'll go on to the next rotation in a few minutes."

He turned to the men who stood on either side of him. "Reactions?"

Scott shook his head. "Amazing."

Gambit turned to Scott, his expression one of surprise. His tone held a note of mockery. "What? Didn' y' know de boy was invulnerable?"

Charles felt Scott's general annoyance with Remy crystallize into anger. "Of course! I've known for years."

"An y' jus' never said anyt'ing?" Remy's expression had grown skeptical.

Scott took a deep breath, fighting for control. "We didn't think that Bobby was ready to cope with the real extent of his powers." He managed to sound reasonable, though his jaw remained tight.

Charles didn't think Gambit liked that answer very much, true as it was. Charles himself had been much in favor of shielding Bobby from too much awareness of his powers, in the hopes of introducing them to him slowly, over time.

Gambit had crossed his arms, and was looking between Charles and Scott as if he didn't entirely believe what he was hearing. "Let me get dis straight. You-" he pointed at Scott, "have been purposefully tellin' de boy he's not'ing special b'cause y' didn' t'ink he could handle his powers?!" There was outrage in the gaze that suddenly snapped to Charles' face. "An' you been approvin' o' dis?"

Charles met his blood red gaze and realized that the words stung. He had done what he thought was best for Bobby, but it was difficult to have that belief challenged. Especially when he was being confronted with true, righteous anger from a man that Charles did not consider to be particularly moral. But Remy was a mass of contradictions that Charles had not yet figured out, and his reactions were sometimes very puzzling.

"Please, Remy," he tried to placate the young man's anger. "Try to see this from our point of view. Bobby came here as a very young man. A very insecure young man who was inside terrified of the powers that had been given to him. We had hoped to allow him the time to mature before he was forced to take on the full burden of his powers. It is a tremendous responsibility and we," he motioned to Scott, "did not want to see him harmed by trying to take it up too early."

Gambit's expression had not changed. "So f' de last six years y' both been tellin' him not t' try too hard so he won' figure out how much power he's really got. An' den y' disappointed in him when he don' keep up wit de rest o' de team."

Charles shook his head slowly. "I have never been disappointed with Bobby's progress."

Gambit's look was one of pure disgust. "I bet Bobby don' see it dat way." He turned and stalked out of the control booth, his boots clacking on the metal floor. The door closed behind his retreating figure, leaving Charles and Scott in silence.

Scott stared at the door. "That man really worries me sometimes."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

Scott chewed on his lip for a moment as he sorted through his thoughts. "Because I think he would be willing to toss Bobby off the top of a building in the hopes that he would figure out he's invulnerable before he hit the bottom."