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Chapters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
 
 
 

Thick as Thieves - REVIEW THIS STORY

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

Chapter 14

"Okay, lift and turn and kick and stretch..."

Diedre giggled wildly as Bobby exaggerated an exercise routine, pretending that there was music playing. Diedre had seemed down, so he'd been trying to cheer her up, and becoming silly had seemed to be the easiest way to do it.

"Stop it," she gasped, clutching her sides. "I'm going to hurt myself!"

He stopped with a grin and bowed to her. "As my lady demands."

She laughed and shook her head. "You goof."

"But of course! Still, I think we'd better get some more practice in." They'd been training in the pool again. Diedre was improving greatly and she'd even created a small ice slide today. It was too weak to carry her weight and it took her close to an hour to form it completely, but it was far more than she'd ever done before. The smile on her face as she looked at it was beautific.

Now, however, she groaned. "What, more? But I'm so tired. I feel like my fingers are going to fall off." She wiggled them for emphasis.

He shook his head. "Quitter," he teased.

Immediately, her chin jutted out into the cutest pout he'd ever seen. "I am not. I merely want to take a break for lunch."

His heart started to pound. "You want to eat here or go out?" Was this a date? Was she actually asking him out on a date? God, I hope so!

She blushed looking nervous herself. Maybe she was having the same thoughts. His pounding heart felt like it was going to jump out of his throat and strangle him. "Can we go to a restaurant or something?"

He nodded and swallowed. "Sure."

Frank followed them, of course. Discretely walking about fifteen feet behind them as they strolled along the sidewalk, not touching. Close enough to interfere if anything went wrong, but not so close that they didn't have the illusion of privacy, or as much as one could get on a New York street at noon. Bobby had gotten so used to him that he didn't pay attention to him anymore, which a small part of him warned could be a mistake. Frank wasn't stupid enough not to realize there was something going on between himself and Diedre, which gave him a lot of power over him. Remy had warned him not to let himself get into such a position where another could blackmail him, but Bobby didn't see any way to avoid it, not if he wanted to see Diedre again.

Diedre looked around herself at the buskers, and panhandlers, and the crush of people hurrying in every direction on the sidewalk, as well as the mass of cars trapped in traffic on the street. "This is so incredible," she sighed.

Bobby looked at her sideways. "Haven't you ever walked down the street before?" He asked.

To his surprise, she shook her head. "Not since before I was married. Now I go everywhere in a limo. I forgot how much I loved to walk."

Bobby felt the familiar anger grow in him. The rage that any man who'd sworn to love and cherish a woman would treat her like so much garbage. In response, the temperature around him dropped a few degrees.

Diedre stared at him, sensing his mood, and tried to diffuse the moment by pointing at a nearby store window. "Look, isn't that a lovely dress?"

For her sake, since he knew there was nothing he could do about Michael, Bobby looked. The store window had a series of anorexic mannequins in it, with perfectly coiffed plastic hair. They were displaying the latest summer dresses, in a variety of colours, from white to a dark blue. Diedre was pointing at the darkest one.

"I think that would look nice at the club, don't you?"

Bobby frowned, turning to the one beside it, a pretty white and yellow checked dress with a short, flowing skirt that fell straight but was tucked a little at the waist with spaghetti straps and a swoop neck. "I think that you'd look better in that one."

She blushed, an expression on her face Bobby couldn't quite read. Was it hope, satisfaction, or despair? "Do you really think so?"

Impulsively, he grabbed her arm. "Come on, I'll prove it to you." Amidst her giggling, he dragged her into the store.

It was much like the one where Remy had bought him his suit. Expensive, refined and biased. He saw the saleslady come towards him with an expression of distaste on her face, and looked down at his jeans and tee-shirt, then at Diedre's black shorts and halter top that made her appear so pale and washed out. Neither of them looked rich at all, and he had the distinct feeling they were about to have their butts hit the sidewalk. That irritated him, where once he would have meekly left as he was asked, then bitched about how he was treated for weeks.

Now, however, he straightened his spine and put on the same arrogant, don't-mess-with-me expression Remy had had in the other store, that regal demeanor which made him look like a king even with his torn jeans and leather coat. He was sure he couldn't do it as well, but the saleslady hesitated, her determination to throw them both out before they sullied her merchandise weakening in uncertainty. Diedre stared at him, surprised, then hid her shock and smiled at the clerk with faint boredom. Bobby was so proud of her he wanted to spin her around and hug her. In a mirror, he saw Frank walk up behind them and cross his arms patiently, the quintessential bodyguard. The clerk wilted further and was actually polite by the time she reached them.

"May I help you, sir?" She asked.

Bobby almost choked on the first sincere 'sir' he'd ever heard used in reference to himself, without it being a rub-off of the respect Gambit got, then nodded. "Yes. Would you please get the yellow dress in the window for my friend?"

"Of course. Come with me, dear. I do believe we have that one in your size back here." She led Diedre towards the rear of the store.

Bobby trailed behind them. "Thanks," he said in an undertone to Frank. The empath merely nodded and took up position near the door, where he could see everything that happened.

By the time Bobby reached the back, Diedre had already been whisked into the changing room with a half dozen dresses, each one of them yellow, he noted.

"I sent her in with some different styles," the clerk explained. "so she could see which suited her best."

Bobby nodded. "Thanks," he said and sat down on one of the antique chairs provided for bored men helping their females shop. There was a nice tee-shirt hanging on the front of a rack beside him, a short cotton thing, so idly he glanced at the price.

$150.00

"Would you like some water?" The saleslady asked as he began to choke. He managed a nod and she hurried off. One hundred and fifty dollars for a frigging t-shirt?! They're nuts!

The clerk brought him some water in a small glass and he gulped it down. A moment later, Diedre stepped out of the changeroom and he almost brought it back up again.

She was wearing the dress from the window, and the yellow made her skin and hair glow as she turned, the light skirt swirling around her pale legs. "What do you think?" She breathed.

He thought she was the most beautiful thing in the world. He thought he was so in love with her the universe could die and he wouldn't care, as long as he was with her. He thought he wanted to make love with her, and make her his wife, and to hell with Michael and his guild.

"It's nice," he croaked.

She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling. "I've got to try the others on," she admitted and was gone in a swirl of yellow. Bobby slumped down in his seat, wondering how much more he could take.

Bobby was almost a basket case by the time she was done trying on the dresses and posing for him. Finally, though, she came out again in her horrid black, carrying the dresses. She lovingly stroked the fabric of the top one, then regretfully handed them to the clerk.

"Thank you," she said softly and walked towards the front of the store.

Bobby blinked at her. She's not going to buy them? He stared after her, then impulsively went over to the clerk. "How much is the top one?" He asked softly.

The clerk smiled at him, sensing a sale. "Twelve hundred dollars, sir."

He swallowed. "And the rest are the same?"

"More or less, sir."

Diedre needed a wardrobe. She needed colours that made her look alive, not the black that gave her the impression of a walking corpse. But twelve hundred dollars... where was he going to get enough money to buy a twelve hundred dollar dress? The Professor gave them money for expenses, but twelve hundred?

"Hold the top one for me," he said softly. "I'll pick it up later."

"Of course, sir," she agreed and he hurried to catch up to Diedre, praying to himself that Professor would be in a really generous mood tonight, because he wasn't sure he had the nerve to steal for real.

Calmly, Michael walked into his penthouse, tossing his sunglasses on the table, though he kept his keys with him. It'd been an annoying morning.

Gambit had been talking to the Guildmembers. Nothing overt, nothing he could use to drag him by his Cajun ears into the blood ring and rip out his heart, but he was talking. Letting the Guild know that he, master thief, felt that they shouldn't be using their powers on jobs.

He snorted, his lip curling into a snarl. They were listening, too. Damn him, he thought. Damn him to hell.

With the powers of the Guild, he'd had the resources to gain control of the entire city, even throwing down the Kingpin himself, instead of cowering in hiding and trying to eke out a living with talents any fool off the street could be trained into. Being mutants had promised them power, and him the chance to control that power. Months he'd spent setting up the Guild to defy the old traditions, and truly take its place in the underworld.

Then Gambit walked in. The only thief east of the Mississippi who had the authority to question him. Damn him! All that work gone. All because an interfering Cajun with the power to charm mentioned that now was no time for a mutant to show off his powers.

He crossed the room to the bar and poured himself a drink. He'd have laughed in Gambit's face if he could, but the man had a reputation that even he couldn't ignore. And even Guildless, he could draw on resources Michael would be hard pressed to match as quickly. He'd proven that many times, most especially with his new 'apprentice'.

Michael's eyes narrowed. Apprentice. An upper level Alpha class, and the most powerful one he'd ever seen. A boy obeying him without question while he had to make do with the arrogant low level Betas born or recruited into the Guild nowadays. When he saw the dragon that boy made from ice the first night they spoke- he'd been impressed. He didn't like being impressed when he had nothing to counter with. Alexi's luck power with the tables? Toby's ability to lift objects under one hundred pounds with his mind? That was nothing. That boy could make cold live. Shatter steel, crumble stone, kill.

And he belonged to Gambit. Gods! that irritated him. He wanted that child in his employ. To use his powers as he directed. To show up Gambit, who thought he knew best, and used Michael's own rules to tie him.

No more. He would have what he wanted and Remy and his warnings be damned. Bobby would be bound to him, and LeBeau would be shamed. Humiliated. And if that wasn't enough to get rid of him, there was always the ring.

Michael smiled slightly, then turned, the smile fading as the door to the apartment opened and Didi came in, followed by Bobby and Frank. He'd had the limo today, and the porshe was in the shop being detailed. Not that Didi had ever learned to drive the stick shift and Frank knew better than to touch his car, save to open the door for him.

"Where have you been?" He asked coldly.

Didi looked up at him, her face mirroring surprise for a moment. Bobby's had gone blank. It wasn't as good a mask as Gambit's, but it kept him from knowing what he was thinking, which irked him more.

"W-we went out to lunch," Didi said uncertainly. "I was hungry from my training."

He sipped his drink. He'd always been used to Didi being deferential to him. His rank deserved it from her. But now he wondered if there was something else behind her stammer.

"You walked?"

She swallowed. "Well, yes. It was such a lovely day and-"

"My wife," he told the apprentice coolly. "Does not walk. Ever. Is that understood?"

Bobby's face was like stone. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Guildmaster."

Irritated, he studied the boy's face. Young, round, with unruly blonde hair grown almost to his shoulders. He was trying to turn himself into Gambit at his scruffiest. Michael sipped his drink. Stupid boy. He'd have him cut his hair and dress in better clothes. He'd never have the full presence he needed to succeed in the Guild, but with his powers, it wouldn't matter. People would bow to him out of fear.

He saw how close the two were standing, but discarded any idea of his wife being unfaithful to him. Not Didi. She knew whom she belonged to and he knew what her type was. She was into men with power, men like himself, or Gambit.

His eyes narrowed again in thoughtful suspicion. Gambit had a reputation for the ladies even more than he did for being a thief. It'd be just like him to attempt to steal his wife. Michael found himself wishing to a degree that he had. Adultary was more than enough reason to call someone to the ring.

"How is Gambit today?" He asked the apprentice. If he'd taken Didi to some kind of illicit rendezvous with his master, he wouldn't be able to hide it.

Bobby, however, only blinked. "Fine, I think. I haven't seen him."

Too bad. Michael turned and set down his glass. Didi hadn't cheated on him with the Cajun. Still, if it ever were to become necessary, a false accusation would be just as useful as a real one if the accused was dead before any proof was called for.

God, do I want to freeze him from the inside out, Bobby thought while he stoically kept on the poker face Remy had taught him and watched Michael deride the woman he loved. He'd kill him where he stood, but he knew he wasn't a murderer, and that's what it would be. Besides, it wouldn't be fair to Didi, who he could see still loved him.

Why? He wailed silently. Why do you still love him? He'll never love you. I love you. He wanted to tell her that, but not now, not in front of Michael.

"Go to your room," Michael told his wife. "You need rest after your exertions."

"Of course, Michael." Without even a glance at him that would be far too dangerous, she walked away. At a nod from Michael, Frank went out of the room.

Bobby found himself being examined by Michael. He felt like a bug being stared at under a microscope. He braced himself for anything, then Michael said the last thing he expected. "Would you like a drink?"

Bobby blinked. "Uh? Sure."

Michael nodded and went back to the bar. He didn't ask him what he wanted, but poured him a scotch on the rocks. He picked his own drink back up and handed him his glass.

"How is Didi's training coming?"

Keep it simple! His mind screamed at him. "Good. She's developing faster than I thought she was going to. She's already able to do things she couldn't before."

"Such as?"

Bobby thought back to the lesson. "She's able to create a film of ice over about a quarter of the pool. It's not very thick or strong, but it's solid."

"Will she be able to do as much as you can?"

"I'm... not sure. Maybe." He doubted it. She was a definate Beta. She had a useful power, but not a dangerous one. The worst she could do was give someone frostbite. It was still impressive, but he doubted Michael would agree.

Michael nodded. "How is your own training coming?" He asked suddenly.

Bobby blinked at the sudden change of topic, wondering how to answer. Remy had said it was considered rude to ask about the progress of someone else's apprentice, but Masters were supposed to be exempt from some rules. He couldn't remember whether this was one of them though. Remy just told him that, when in doubt, keep his mouth shut.

"Pretty good," he told him.

For Michael, that wasn't enough. "Have you made your first real pinch?"

Officially? He wasn't sure that breaking into every museum in the city and out again was real in Guild terms. Nor would be putting groucho glasses on Michaelangelo's David, on loan from Europe. Remy had a very silly sense of humour at times. "Um, not yet."

Michael's eyes widened in a surprise too great to be wholly genuine. "You haven't? I'm surprised. A thief of your talents should have a sponsor by now." He put his drink on the table and put an arm around Bobby's shoulders. "Personally, I think it's time you did, and I am happy to volunteer. Be here tomorrow night at 10 and I'll take you on a job with my apprentices." He steered him to the door.

"But... but Gambit..."

"Can handle being alone for one night." Michael's lips twisted faintly. "All Guild masters do have the right to request an apprentice's assistance at any time."

That was true. Bobby remembered Remy mentioning that, but it'd been mixed in with so much other stuff he needed to know that he couldn't remember if that was all of it. "Uh, okay."

"Excellent." Michael steered him out the door and closed it in his face.

Oh God, what have I gotten myself into this time?

Quietly, Bobby walked into the mansion, lost in thought. He went up to Remy's room, but the Cajun wasn't there, nor was he in the kitchen, or on the roof. Quietly, he walked into the living room to see Bishop oiling one of his many guns.

"Have you seen Remy?" He asked him.

The big man regarded him stoically and Bobby found himself wondering, as usual, what he was thinking. Bishop was so good at hiding his emotions that even Remy's training wasn't enough to give him an insight into his feelings. He got the impression that Remy could read him like a book, though.

Suddenly, he realized he and the big man had something in common. They'd both started out hating Gambit, then wound up among his closest friends.

"He's outside helping Storm weed the garden," Bishop told him. He always knew where everyone in the mansion was.

"Thanks." He went out back.

Behind the mansion there were dozens of flower beds, all carefully tended by Storm and whoever she could rope into helping her weed. Right now it was Remy, kneeling on the grass with an expression of disgust mixed with friendship on his face. Bobby grinned. There was a distinct odor of fertilizer in the air.

He stood by the side of a bush, out of their line of sight, and watched them for a moment. Storm was tending the plants lovingly while Remy bitched, yet he was almost as careful as she.

He felt nervous all of a sudden. If he asked Remy for the money, the Cajun would want to know why, and Bobby didn't want him to know that he was in love with Michael's wife. He wasn't stupid. He knew the politics of the Guild well enough by now to know that what he was doing was incredibly dangerous, for both of them. Remy was his master. He was responsible for his actions, and what he was doing with Diedre, innocent as it was, could not only get him killed, but Gambit as well.

Guilt filled the young man. Remy had gone well out of his way for him, teaching him, supporting him, and not even asking any questions. He hadn't realized it until now, but Remy had never asked him anything about Diedre, other than how the relationship was going. He respected his privacy like no one ever had. He didn't know how he'd react if he knew the truth, and he didn't want to involve him any more than he already was. Or put him in any more danger.

He also didn't know if telling him about his being asked on a training session with Michael was good either. Michael was up to something, he was sure of it. It couldn't be because of any great interest in him; he had to be after Remy. But if Remy knew about it, he might get caught in that trap. Confused, he decided to handle it on his own. Remy had taught him well and he wasn't gullible. If Michael did have a trap ready, he was not going to be the bait for his master.

Quietly, Bobby turned and walked away before the two X-Men saw him. He'd ask the Professor for the money instead, and tell him some story as to what it was for. It was ironic indeed, that it would be easier for him to lie to a telepath.

"Why I gotta help wit' dis, Stormy?" Remy bitched as he weeded.

"Because you were available," was the reply. "And do not call me Stormy."

Remy frowned. "I don' call fast asleep in m' bed bein' available."

Storm smiled. "You were not. You were in the kitchen eating frozen pop tarts."

"Close enough."

She shook her trowel at him. "Besides, you did agree."

"Dat's b'fore I find out y' gonna be mushin' horse shit into de dirt, den makin' me kneel in it."

The Wind Rider sighed. "It is not horse shit, Remy. It is cow manure."

He grinned at her. "It's brown an' it comes out a de wrong end of a stinky animal. Close 'nough."

"You are impossible."

"Yup. An' it's gonna get worse if y' don' let me go."

With a smile, she regarded him out of her blue, cat like eyes. "Feel free to complain, Remy. I am very used to dealing with small children."

"Hah!" He dug his trowel into the flower bed they were working on, savaging a weed. "I know more 'bout kids dan you do. Raised y' in N'Awlins, didn' I?" He yanked the weed out, along with what he was sure was some sort of flower bulb, and tossed them over his shoulder before she could notice. Storm was rather defensive of her plants. "It was fun den, wasn' it?"

Storm was a woman of tremendous dignity and personal morals. To look at her, no one would be able to conceive of the idea that she was an expert pickpocket and a not half bad thief. Remy had met her when they both were robbing the same house, though she was in the body of a child, and he'd seen the potential for greatness in her right away. The same potential was in Bobby, too, and he idly wondered which of the two was better. Ororo, he decided, was the better pickpocket, but Bobby was better at B&E. He, of course, was better than both of them, he thought with a grin. Though Storm did give him a serious run for his money in snitching wallets.

Storm may not steal anymore, but she had enjoyed it while it lasted and her smile widened. "I seem to remember being the one taking care of you at times. I do not ever remember coming home drunk, or being captured by Nanny and the Orphan Maker in the middle of a Mardi Gras parade."

Remy blushed. "So I was havin' a bad day. Still, y' did good savin' my butt. First time I really see y' use y' powers, ot'er dan when y' lifted dat whole ol' plane an' flew it down de Mississippi on y' winds." He grinned at the memory of the people they'd seen below them, running from what they thought was a UFO. There were still stories about it being told in those parts.

To his surprise, Ororo sighed. "What's wrong, Padnat?"

"I was truly innocent then," she said as she softened the earth with her own trowel. "I had no idea what power I wielded."

"So? Y' c'n control it. T'aint no big deal, neh?"

She shook her head. "It is a big deal, for my emotions influence the weather. I feel that I have lost something with that realization, just as Bobby is losing something with the development of his powers."

He blinked, completely caught by surprise. "Bobby? What 'bout him?"

She delicately removed a weed with the same care she would use in planting a seed. "Bobby is very powerful, more so than any of us realized at first. I think his powers are almost at a level high enough to be classified as Omega."

Remy whistled. Omega classes, like Magneto, had powers which could affect the world as a whole. "Dat's pretty impressive."

Storm shook her head. "He is not that powerful, but he is one of the most powerful X-Men, if not the most powerful. I am at an equal with him, and only Rogue is stronger." She saw his jaw clench. "Forgive me, Remy. I did not mean to bring up bad memories."

"T'ain't not'ing, padnat. De memories not all bad." He dug irritably at the garden. "So, you agree with Cyke dat he should be kept in de dark 'bout what he can do."

"I do not know. I do know I do not like to see Bobby lose his innocence."

"Dat innocence won' do him much good if it wind up gettin' him killed by someone he coulda iced if he were better wit' his powers."

Storm shook her head. "You cannot be so negative, Remy, even with our lives the way they are. Bobby does not need to use all of his powers, or lose his innocence."

Remy didn't answer her out loud, still digging at the garden, though it was now weed-free. Yes he does, now dat he's walkin' in my world.

 

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