Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Jitter, we’re going to be in so much trouble,” Becca Simon-Pinette moaned as the two of them wandered around a packed Jackson Square, the beating heart of the French Quarter’s tourist siren song. “I shouldn’t have agreed to this.”

“I tttold you, Becca, it’ll be fffine,” her girlfriend, Sofia Yong, replied, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “We’ll bbe back bbefore anyone knows we’re gggone. And wwwhen we’re out, it’s Sofia, OK?”

“OK.” Becca smiled and allowed Sofia to pull her excitedly along the street. There were people everywhere. The night was warm and the air was heavy with the mingled scents of liquor, sweat and jasmine, and the sounds of live music drifted out onto the sidewalks from the numerous jazz and piano bars. They were far too young to go inside the most interesting-looking places, but they were free to people-watch and take in the atmosphere around the square.

They had been to the city before, but almost always with adults. Or at least, not just the two of them. Their excitement and anticipation was as much about their intoxicating sense of freedom — no grownups — as it was about New Orleans itself.

“Those are so pretty,” Becca said, pointing to an array of canvasses, all showing brightly colored scenes of the city, propped up along the square’s gate. The artist, an older Black man, turned toward them from the easel he had propped up, where he was working on another piece.

“Merci, lil one,” he said, smiling and tipping his newsboy cap to them. Becca blushed and continued to follow Sofia.

“Where are we going?”

“Cccafe du Monde,” Sofia replied. “It’s just over on Decatur Ssstreet. Mr. Gggambit’s talked about it. I wanna try the bbeignets.”

A while later, after patiently waiting in a sizable line, the girls were sitting on the cafe’s terrace under its telltale green and white striped awning. They each ordered a mug of café au lait and shared an order of three beignets, splitting the third between them.

“Sssso ggood,” Sofia moaned, chewing on a hunk of pillowy, sugary goodness.

“The guys don’t know what they’re missing,” Becca said, sipping her coffee. It had chicory in it, which she’d never had before coming here, but she thought she liked it.

The outing had been Sofia’s idea. It had been only a week since the city’s friendship festival for mutant outreach, which was an overall success. Although someone — no one yet knew who — had deliberately set fire to a children’s hospital a few blocks from the festival. Sofia and Becca hadn’t seen all of what happened, but the Louisiana X-Men, with some help from friends and frenemies alike, had managed to save everyone inside.

Becca had already been suffering nightmares and sleepwalking episodes before this, the result of residual fear after watching that godforsaken Murder Me, Mutina slasher movie. Sofia had noticed the effect the film had had on her girlfriend and regretted dragging her along to see it, but the damage was done. Going to the festival — in civilian clothes, mind — had seemed to help ease Becca’s anxiety. But all it took was seeing Ms. LeBeau — Rogue — bloodied and dusty after taking the brunt of the damage in the hospital fire, and Becca’s anxiety had rocketed up again.

The X-Men — Rogue, Gambit, Wolverine, Nightcrawler and Jubilee — had walked back to the festival after dealing with the fire to collect the kids and make sure no one had tried to start any shenanigans there while they were distracted. Sofia and Becca had both gasped when they saw Rogue, her arm draped around Mr. Gambit, both of them coughing and dragging. Becca had immediately launched herself at Rogue, sobbing and throwing her arms around her with such force that Mr. Gambit had had to duck out of the way, until Sofia had similarly thrown her arms around him in relief.

“We were so worried,” Becca cried into Rogue’s hair, which was covered in ash and dust and smelled like smoke.

“Ah’m OK, baby,” Rogue had soothed Becca, stroking her hair and hugging her close. And she was, for as banged up as she looked. But that hadn’t done much to allay Becca’s nightmares. Only now she had both Mutina and the hospital fire to feed her night terrors.

Sofia knew Becca sleepwalked, but had never been up to actually see it. That usually fell to Mr. Gambit, who’d roll out of bed when he heard her and follow her downstairs to make sure she didn’t cut herself, wander off or set the house on fire. Eventually he’d herd her back upstairs and back to bed, keeping an ear out in case she got up again.

All of that worry meant that Sofia was on the lookout for a way to make Becca relax and have some fun. And what better way to do that than to roam around New Orleans for an evening?

This Saturday had provided the best opportunity. The St. Juniors family — Marcus, Alice and Chelsea — had gone to Baton Rouge for the weekend. Sofia learned during her one-on-one training session earlier that afternoon that Herr Nightcrawler, Kurt, was spending the evening with Ms. DeNeer, the woman who had organized the friendship festival, and her children.

Mr. Gambit and Rogue were going into the city on a date and planned to spend the night there in one of the apartments in the city they owned. Sofia had never been to one but apparently there were a few, and one “shithole” Rogue refused to stay in for some reason because someone else they knew (Wade something, Sofia thought) had stayed there before and left it in a dire state. It was difficult to piece it all together, and Sofia thought it was better not to ask, but she definitely got the sense that Mr. Gambit and Rogue got up to things in the city that they kept from their charges.

Mr. Logan and Jubilee were staying in Haven, but Mr. Logan usually kept to himself and Jubilee liked to go into the center of the small town and hang out with some college students her age she’d met on one of her grocery runs.

In other words: Adult supervision on Saturday would be minimal, and that was the best night to make a break for it.

The other two Outliers — Valentin and Hotoru, who were called Ransom and Deathdream — were less convinced.

“You’re asking to get grounded,” Val had said, propped up in his bed with a book when Sofia had looked in on him to see if he wanted to come with them. “And you’re already coming off a three-day suspension at school. Seems risky, Sof.”

“Bbbecca needs a bbbreak, so I’m ttaking her out” she’d said firmly. “Are yyou coming orrr nnot?”

Val had shaken his head. “No can do, sorry. I have a video call with Idie tonight. Had to miss the last one, she had a mission.”

Idie — Temper — was Val’s sort-of girlfriend. She lived up in Alaska with another group of X-Men. Sofia knew they’d danced and kissed at the Hellfire Vigil, but Val was frustratingly discreet about how it had gone otherwise.

“You wwwon’t tell on us?”

“Nah, I’m not a snitch. Go, but be careful. I can only do so much to cover for you if you get caught.”

“Thanks Vvval,” Sofia had said, hugging him.

She’d asked Hotoru next, not expecting him to want to come but determined to include him anyway. He’d politely declined, preferring instead to hang out in the graveyard.

“The last time I was there I made contact with a dead toddler,” he’d said dreamily. “It was wonderful.”

“I … sure, Hhhotoru. Have fun.”

So it was that Becca and Sofia had brazenly walked out the front door Saturday night, with no sign of any grownups. They wore civilian clothes: shorts, tees and sneakers. They looked like any other teenagers out on a weekend evening. Sofia’s jet black hair was done up in a messy bun, while Becca’s golden tresses were in a loose ponytail.

Waffles, the hybrid Sentinel dog that had glommed onto their unconventional household, had followed Hotoru to the graveyard. The trio of LeBeau cats had been sleeping in a pile in a basket on the front porch. The orange one, Lucifer, had awoken and woven himself between their legs in greeting, then flopped back down in the basket with his drowsy brothers. Mr. Logan was around but had made no move to stop them from leaving, and didn’t even acknowledge that they were going. If he knew they’d gone out he kept it to himself.

Becca’s horse, Ember (well, sort of; Sofia still wasn’t sure what the deal was there), had cried out to them from the barn with a forlorn whinny.

“You can’t come this time,” Becca had called back, and the whinnying stopped.

All of the available cars were taken, and Sofia wouldn’t have wanted to press her luck there anyway, picturing the reaction from Rogue and Mr. Gambit if they got caught by the police driving without a license. So they had gone into the city the boring way, walking up the road to the bus stop. It took a while and wasn’t exactly luxurious, but it got them there. And it had been worth it, Sofia thought as she watched Becca eat the last bite of beignet.

I hope this will keep the nightmares away for a little while, Ballerina.

They ordered a second plate of beignets but then had to stop or the sugar rush would be too much. Then they were back out on the square, the evening warmth and buzzing energy of the crowd drawing them in.

“I’m not sure what all we can do here,” Becca said a little glumly. “We can’t get into most of the jazz places. I think most of them are twenty-one and over at night.”

“It’s OK,” Sofia said. “Wwee can just wwaalk around. I’m hhappy doing thhhat if you are.”

“Always,” Becca said, and the two teenage girls walked arm-in-arm around the city’s vibrant center. It was getting a little rowdier as the evening wore on, but nothing dangerous.

It didn’t take long for Sofia to lose track of where they were, exactly. The Quarter covered a neat grid of streets, but all the intersections looked similar, with their beautiful townhouses and ironwork lining the street and tourists wandering around in various states of inebriation.

“I ttthink I ggot turned around,” Sofia finally admitted, looking for a street sign to get her bearings and loading up the maps app on her phone only to find that its battery had gone dead. Oops. Should have charged it for longer before we left.

There were still people out walking, but the throngs had lightened somewhat, and Sofia thought they might be veering into a totally different part of the city.

Just as she was about to ask Becca for help navigating, though, Sofia heard a pair of low, muffled voices coming from a darkened, narrow street perpendicular to the one they were on, which was wider and properly lit. She quickly hustled Becca to the street corner, where they could peer down the darker street.

“Ya better hurry it up, ‘fore someone see us,” one of them said, in an accent that reminded Sofia of Mr. Gambit’s.

“Oui, I’mma comin’,” the second one said grumpily. The two men were wearing all black and standing behind a big boxy black van, the kind used by tradespeople. It was then that Sofia noticed that there were actually three people, not two. The third was another man, his head covered in a bag, his mouth gagged and his hands bound behind him. He was propped up against the van but looked like he might fall over at any moment. His muffled protestations were incomprehensible, but Sofia knew distress when she saw it. Also, the whole handcuffs and bag-on-the-head vibe. And, er, the gag.

Crack detective work, Jitter.

The two teenagers stood, frozen, staring down at the bizarre scene. The first two men shoved the third one into the back of the van. One of them, with a swarthy complexion and a heavy build, walked around the left side to get into the driver’s seat, while the other, who was tall, thin and similarly swarthy, stood by the open van door and made a phone call.

“Madame. Yes, we have ‘im. Don’ t’ink anyone see us. We be at de house in fifteen, twen’y minutes. Dependin’ on traffic. Oui, we wait fo’ you, à bientôt.”

The driver stuck his head out the window then and yelled back to his accomplice.

“Claude, I forgot ta lock up, can you do de honors?”

The man grunted something and then proceeded to trot back into the building the van was parked in front of. He’d left the vehicle’s back door ajar.

Sofia’s mind raced. These two goons were just … kidnapping … someone, taking him who knew where. They had no idea where they were, or where the men were taking this guy. If they left now, there’d be no catching them. They could get close enough to read the license plate, but Sofia had a feeling the plate would be disappearing very, very soon.

There was really only one thing to do. And Becca wasn’t gonna like it.

“Bbbecca, we have to get in that vvvan,” Sofia whispered urgently. “Wwwe have to help that gguy.”

“What?!” Becca screeched, loud enough that Sofia worried about the goons hearing them. “No. No. We’ll go home, we’ll call Mama — I mean, Ms. LeBeau — and Mr. Gambit and tell them what happened. And they’ll know what to do!”

Sofia shook her head.

“It’ll bbee too late bby then. We gggotta go nnoow.”

Becca’s resolve gave way and she allowed herself to be dragged around the corner, down the sidewalk and into the back of the van, carefully staying outside the view of the driver-side rear-view mirror. The girls had barely gotten inside when the second guy came back out and shut the rear door — luckily not looking inside at all — before walking up and getting into the passenger seat.

The back of the van was pitch black, with no window or access to the front. Sofia could sense their bound companion, and knew he knew they were there, too, but being gagged and blindfolded, there wasn’t much he could do. Sofia just hoped he knew they were there to help — she didn’t dare say anything, nor did Becca — and wouldn’t attempt to narc on them.

The van was moving then, turning corners and stopping occasionally. Sofia had no clue where they were going, but the guy had said it’d be only fifteen or twenty minutes. They couldn’t be going too far, then.

Becca was squeezing Sofia’s hand so tightly it hurt, and she immediately regretted their decision, but it was too late now. They’d both been through worse, surely.

The van’s driver wasn’t particularly concerned with the speed limit or traffic signals, apparently, because they were constantly being thrown around. Sofia knew she’d have bruises on her shoulders later, and just hoped they wouldn’t make enough noise to draw notice as they occasionally bunged up against the sides of the van. Sofia had hoped to have Becca, whose phone still had power, call Rogue or Mr. Gambit or Mr. Logan or someone on the way, but the jostling was too much and besides, they didn’t want to make too much noise and alert the men that they were there.

Finally they stopped — for real, not just a traffic light — and Sofia heard the men open the driver and passenger doors. Which meant they’d be heading for the back of the van to discover their two stowaways.

“Becca,” Sofia whispered. “I’m gggoing tto knock them out. Orrr at least try to. Sstay down, OK?”

“OK,” Becca whispered, crawling back toward the front of the van and leaving Sofia to face the doors, which would soon open.

“Sssavate,” Sofia whispered, setting the timer on her watch, just as the van doors opened.

The two men were entirely unprepared for any shenanigans, let alone a tiny teenage girl who came at them in a furious maelstrom of punches and kicks, her sneaker-clad feet flying in all directions and catching them every which way.

“What de hell,” the one called Claude yet, throwing up his arms to block Sofia’s kicks. “Georges, someone got demselves in our van wit’ Monsieur De Vere.”

“Sure I can see dat,” Georges, the second man, groused, as Sofia’s foot caught him under the chin.

Uh oh, Sofia thought as her watch timer ran dangerously down. Despite her work with Herr Nightcrawler, she still struggled to use her powers for more than a minute at a time, with an hour rest period in between. Kurt had promised that eventually she’d have control for longer, with shorter breaks needed after, but that was a long ways off and of no help to them now.

For even as she landed hits left and right, the men still refused to move and there was no clear way for Sofia and Becca to get away with their prisoner.

Beep beep beeeeep.

Sofia was done, and though she’d done some impressive damage, it hadn’t been enough.

The men noticed immediately that the kicking had stopped, and Claude wrapped his arms around Sofia’s waist in a bear hug.

“I ain’t got any clue who you are, fille, but fo’ de love o’ God, hol’ still,” he huffed.

“Becca, run!” Sofia yelled, kicking her legs out as the man held onto her.

Becca, for her part, darted out of the back of the van, catching her foot on the tied-up Monsieur De Vere (whoever he was supposed to be) and stumbling into the arms of Georges, who caught her before she face-planted on the driveway pavement.

Please, Becca, use your powers, Sofia thought.

“Cavalier!” Becca screamed, startling Georges and causing him to drop her. The blonde girl was suddenly engulfed in flames, fiery armor enveloping her and a hot spear in one hand and a sword in the other. She sat astride an astral projection of Ember, the horse itself also wrapped in fire.

“Mon dieu,” breathed Claude, who released his hold on Sofia. Sofia raced over to her girlfriend and jumped onto fire-Ember’s back, wrapping her arms around Becca.

“Waaait,” Sofia yelled as Becca made to race off. “We cccan’t leave hhhim.”

That hesitation cost them dearly. Sofia heard only one word — “Collars!” — before she felt something cold and metallic around her neck. Somehow, someone else had made it through Becca’s astral fire and placed a similar collar on her. Her projection vanished, along with the horse, leaving both girls collared and terrified on the driveway pavement.

“Get ‘em inside,” Claude said, hauling Becca up by her arm and jerking her toward the door. Georges similarly manhandled Sofia. “We’ll grab De Vere in a minute, he ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Only then did Sofia really get a good look of where they were. Before them stood a massive, eerie bayou manse, lights on throughout and pillars standing like sentinels lining the porch. It was back off the main road a ways, with a crescent driveway leading to it from a massive wrought-iron entry gate.

She’d never seen a house so big and so imposing before. Sofia loved Haven House, felt at home there and safe, but this was something else entirely.

Georges opened the door and pulled Sofia inside, while Claude did the same with Becca. The inside of the house was as opulent and beautiful as its exterior, but now, Sofia could sense something cold about it. Its beauty was disarming but unwelcoming.

The front hall was lit with hanging overhead pendant lights, with a large staircase at the end of it. The girls, though, were taken into a sitting room off to the left, where a thin, pale, reedy man with glasses, black pants, a black vest and a white dress shirt — he looked almost like a waiter, or a fancy librarian — was waiting, sat behind a massive oak desk. The room was beautifully decorated, with lavish rugs, a chandelier and an ornate mantel. Detailed crown molding lined the ceiling. Despite her terror at what potentially awaited them, Sofia couldn’t help but be awestruck. Becca, on the other hand, didn’t react much — hell, it might have been less fancy than where she grew up.

Claude left them then to go back out to get De Vere, who was unceremoniously dumped on the floor of the sitting room.

At least we got to stay standing, Sofia thought.

“Ah, Monsieur De Vere,” the waiter-librarian said in a clipped, aristocratic accent with no trace of yat about it. “Glad to have you here. Our madame sends her regrets that she’s running late, but she’ll be here soon.”

He then turned his attention to Becca and Sofia, and the collars they wore.

“Care to tell me, gentlemen, what you’re doing with a pair of children and why those children are collared?”

“Dey be muties,” Georges said, pointing to his arms and chin. “Stowed away in de back o’ de van. De dark-haired one, dat lil shit, she knock de hell outta us, an’ de blonde, she set herself on fire.”

“I see,” the older man said flatly, as if he’d been told something completely normal. “Do you know why they stowed away?”

The two men stared.

“We, er, didn’ t’ink ta ask,” Claude muttered.

The man nodded and spoke to the girls.

“Young ladies, if you please, how did you end up in their humble van?”

Don’t say anything, Becca, Sofia thought, hoping she could project some sense into her girlfriend. Don’t tell them anything.

“We … we thought you were kidnapping someone!” Becca cried.

Well, there goes the element of surprise.

The older man smiled.

“Well, in a sense, you’re right, I’m afraid. Guilty! Shame-faced and all. But believe me when I say that Monsieur De Vere does not deserve your rescue attempts or anyone else’s. Valiant though it may be.

“Having said that, though, you did show a regrettable lack of common sense and even less of a sense of self-preservation. Which leaves us in a pickle. Whatever are we going to do with you?”

“Dey could still be here for de festival last week,” Georges offered. “In dat case, if dey be tourists, no one gonna miss ‘em for a while. Plenty o’ time ta cover our tracks.”

“No!” Becca wailed. “We’re not tourists.”

“Sure as God’s witness, petite fille, ain’t neither of you from here,” Claude pointed out.

“We’re not from here,” Becca said. “But we’re not tourists.”

“Bbecca, don’t tttell them annnything!” Sofia snapped.

“We just want to know what happened and how you ended up here. And if anyone local will be missing you,” the older man said. He had no hint of anger or cruelty in him, but his even-handed calmness still creeped Sofia out.

“If they think we’re tourists, they’ll kill us!” Becca cried to Sofia in a panic. “That’s what they said.”

The older man sighed.

“Despite our, ahem, Guild name, we don’t normally kill without a reason. And I’d hate to break that rule over a truly vile specimen such as Monsieur De Vere. If you tell us how two teenage mutants ended up in New Orleans and, more specifically, in my colleagues’ van tonight, I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Haven!” Becca all but yelled, tilting her chin up. “We’re from Haven. Haven House!”

The color drained from the older man’s face, and the air of exasperated haughtiness left him.

“You … you’re mutants? Living in Haven?”

“Yesss!” Becca wailed, optimistically hoping this information would mean their imminent release.

Instead the older waiter-librarian man turned to Claude and Georges, and Sofia sensed a rising anger in him.

Rising anger, and growing fear. Definitely fear.

“You idiots,” he hissed. “Do you know, do you realize, we’re all going to die?”

Chapter Text

Sofia’s mind was swimming. She had been sure that they were about to kill both her and Becca, and Mr. Gambit and Rogue and the rest would never know what had happened to them, and then, suddenly, even the mild-mannered librarian-man seemed terrified.

Georges and Claude, though, didn’t see what the fuss was about.

“What you mean, LeClerq?” Claude demanded. “What de hell be in Haven to get you so scared?”

“Not what,” the older man — LeClerq, apparently — said through gritted teeth. “Who.”

”OK, we bite. Whooo be in Haven, for you to get all frightened, like?” 

“Remy LeBeau.”

The penny dropped then. Both men went wide-eyed and silent, with Becca and Sofia darting their eyes back and forth, trying to figure out why Mr. Gambit’s named seemed to startle them so.

“You dumb sons of bitches,” LeClerq continued, carefully enunciating each syllable, “kidnapped the little darlings of le diable blanc himself. And brought them to an Assassins’ Guild house. A pair of Thieves’ Guild princesses.”

… Who’s a princess?

“I … I ttthink there’s been a mistake,” Sofia offered, holding her hand up. “We llllive with Mr. Gggambit … Remy … Mr. LeBeau … in Haven. Bbbut we’re not ppprincesses.”

LeClerq looked at them, then a knowing look came over his face and he closed his eyes and nodded.

“Of course not. You are only kids, after all. Monsieur LeBeau would surely never raise children the way he was. I’m sure you know nothing about any of this seedy business, you’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time. All the same, for our purposes, you’re princesses. And if Monsieur LeBeau knew we’d taken you, well, this house, this whole block, it’d be a crater.

“So, we need to figure out how to return you with minimal fuss, you see.”

“You can just drop us off in Haven!” Becca cried. “We won’t tell anyone what happened. Please?”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, my dear. They’d want to know where you were and I’m guessing you’d tell them in the end. No, we need to go to Monsieur LeBeau first or there will be hell to pay.”

Oh man. We’ll get in so much trouble. Mr. Gambit would be real mad. Not fake-real mad. Actually mad.

“As protective as I’m sure Remy be of ses filles,” a new voice said, feminine and silky and dangerous, “I say, it de queen you best worry ‘bout. Dat one, she fierce as a rabid wildcat wit’ her brood. So I hear.”

In the doorway stood a stunning blonde woman, wearing a midnight blue silk slip dress with a black velvet cape on her shoulders. She looked like she belonged in one of the jazz bars in the Quarter more than here, perhaps slinkily draped over a piano. A pair of black heels elevated her height, though she was still well short of all three men. Her icy blue eyes took the measure of the teenage girls as she strode into the room, and her feathered blonde hair framed her face perfectly.

“Madame Boudreaux,” LeClerq said promptly, bowing his head. “Antoine De Vere, as you ordered,” he added, nodding his head to the bound and gagged man who still flopped pathetically on the floor, all but forgotten up to this point in light of the revelation of where the girls had come from.

“Oui, I deal wit’ ‘im later. For now, I be eager to get ta know Remy’s bébés,” the woman cooed, stroking Becca on the chin with a sharp nail.

“All o’ you, out. Take ‘im wit’ you,” she added, kicking the man on the floor with a sharp heel. “We need girl time.”

The three men fled, taking along the unfortunate De Vere, who kept mumbling and huffing the entire time. Sofia still had no idea what he looked like under that hood, suffice to say that he must be quite sweaty by now. LeClerq closed the door behind them, and Sofia and Becca were alone with this new, unknown woman.

“Bonsoir, mes enfants. Je m’appelle Bella Donna Boudreaux. It be a long story, but let’s jus’ say I’m an old … amie … o’ your papa.”

Mr. Gambit had never mentioned this woman before, but it seemed like there was a great deal he’d never told them, judging by the men’s reaction to hearing he was their guardian. Sofia had never thought of him as particularly scary before — the man who sneakily took them for ice cream when they got in trouble at school, who fixed breakfast in the mornings and who helped and encouraged them with their powers and their homework alike — but clearly these people had a different opinion.

He must have never done a crawfish boil for them, she thought sadly.

“I’m Becca,” Becca said quietly. “Becca Constance Simon-Pinette, of the Loudon County …”

“Yo’ nom de famille ain’t nothin’ to me, girl,” Bella Donna snapped. “You all but a LeBeau, we can cut de nonsense.”

“I’m Sssofia,” Sofia said, leaving off the “Yong” in case it should draw a similar reaction. “Cccan you please take the collars off, Ms. Bella Donna? It hhhurts my head.”

“Pauvre enfant,” Bella Donna sneered. “Fo’ my own safety, de collars, dey stay on til yo’ papa get here to pick you up. Shouldn’t be too long, once he know you here.”

“We’re so grounded,” Becca said in a panic. “So many extra chores …”

“I mus’ say,” Bella Donna said. “I didn’ believe it at first when I hear Remy set up in some ol’ shack out in de sticks, riggin’ up some newfangled mutie boardin’ school. But here you are. Some o’ you, anyway. I hear dere be a pair o’ garçons dere, too.”

It burned Sofia to hear Haven House called a shack, but she bit her tongue.

“What you two even doin’ out tonight, hmm? Remy an’ Anna so careless wit’ deir filles, dey lettin’ you run ‘round de Quarter? Now, God knows I ain’t no maman, but even I know dat be no place for young ones at night.”

“We sssnuck out,” Sofia whispered, embarrassed. “We jjjust wanted to have a fun night out. We dddidn’t mean to end up here.”

Bella Donna nodded.

“I believe you, sweet young t’ing. See, Remy an’ me, we have us an understandin’. He don’ mess wit’ my business, I don’ mess wit’ his. So I give you de benefit o’ de doubt. Dis time.”

“Why did you kidnap that man?” Becca asked quietly. “That’s how we ended up here. We thought he was in trouble and wanted to help.”

“Dat’s very sweet, now. Real sweet. Real heroic. It be what Remy’d do. Hell, he might even fo’get you snuck out tonight when he hear dat.

“And dat man, Monsieur Antoine De Vere, yo’ papa wouldn’ want me ta get into de sordid details on account o’ yo’ tender age, but suffice to say, he be rattin’ out his own Guild. Settin’ ‘em up to get killed. Fo’ money. Nasty business, dat. I wanted ‘im brought in to see what all he be up to, dat’s all. But any which way, ain’t none o’ yo’ business, comprenez vous?”

Both girls nodded, their faces heated as if they’d just been caught shoplifting.

Sofia wasn’t sure what to make of Bella Donna. The mean-spirited remark about Haven House, where Marcus and Chelsea and Alice had been so good to them all, where they had already created so many happy memories, made her angry. And something about this new woman, something about the way she spoke, told Sofia that she was an enemy, a rival, if not of Mr. Gambit, then of Rogue. She noticed that Bella Donna had made little direct mention of Ms. LeBeau, other than …

“Who’s ttthe queen?” Sofia asked suddenly.

“Hmm?” Bella Donna asked absent-mindedly; she’d gone behind Becca to examine her ponytail, evaluating her like she was a living doll.

“Yyyou mentioned the queen, with her bbbrood. That was Ms. LeBeau, right?”

Bella Donna made a sour face, like someone had waved bad meat under her nose.

“Oui, much as it pains me ta say, an’ as absent a queen she usually be, it is indeed Ms. LeBeau. Remy be de King o’ T’ieves so she be de Queen, tho’ she never did much like bein’ called dat. But God know she exercise her ‘thority when it suits. Plenty o’ people in dis city can swear to dat. Some of ‘em even still be breathin’.”

“What does that mean?” Becca asked, holding still lest Bella Donna pull on her hair. “King and Queen of … stealing? That’s illegal.”

“De T’ieves’ Guild, chil’. Remy never said nothin’ ‘bout it? Not one word? What a right couillon.”

“Wwwe don’t know what that is,” Sofia said. “Wwwe train with Mr. Gambit and Ms. LeBeau in Haven, that’s all. Wwwe just want control of our powers.”

“Dis really should be comin’ from yo’ papa, but: De T’ieves’ Guild be one o’ de world’s oldest criminal enterprises. De Assassins’ Guild, dat’s mine, it be de same. De T’ieves’ Guild steals pretty t’ings an’ fences ‘em on de black market. Where you t’ink all dat money come from?”

Neither Becca nor Sofia said anything. They both implicitly understood that the LeBeaus had no shortage of money, even if they weren’t ostentatious about it, but this …

“De T’ieves an’ de Assassins used ta be terrible enemies. Remy an’ I were supposed to be married to join de clans. One t’ing led to another an’ it all fell apart. Eventually, Remy married yo’ maman an’ we managed to patch everythin’ up. But we gotta be delicate ‘bout you bein’ here, or yo’ parents, woo, it gonna be somethin’ wild.”

It was a lot to process. Mr. Gambit had been with this woman before he was with Ms. LeBeau. And hearing about Mr. Gambit’s other life, it made Sofia uneasy. Like she was learning and hearing something she shouldn’t be. It almost made her feel like she was eavesdropping. It troubled her to see the glee Bella Donna seemed to emanate at the mere idea of upsetting Mr. Gambit and Rogue. Where the men had been afraid of what they might do, she seemed to welcome it.

Seems kind of dumb.

“An’ you, young t’ings. Yo’ powers. What can you do?” Bella Donna asked sweetly. 

“I cccan be an expert at anything for a minute at a time,” Sofia said, opting for honesty in case it helped her at all. “Nnnot long, and I need to rest for an hour after. Bbbut I’m working on it.”

“I see. An’ yo’ petite amie?”

“I can … make … things,” Becca mumbled. Of all four Outliers, her power was the least understood, even to herself. “I can think of and create weapons, forcefields, armor. I’m … also still working on it. I, um, have a horse.”

“What, yo’ power jus’ be horse girl? Dat is darlin’. Now, I ain’t so ‘gainst mutants as you might t’ink. I be familiar wit’ yo’ kind, ‘specially Remy. Why you t’ink we got dem collars on hand? Dey’ve come in handy wit’ dat one.”

“I wanna go home,” Becca whispered then, tears in her eyes. Sofia clutched her hand, hoping to comfort her. She didn’t want either of them to show vulnerability in front of this woman.

“We might as well yank off de bandage, den,” Bella Donna said, sighing. “Thought we was havin’ a gay ol’ time, de trois o’ us, but suppose only yo’ maman will do. You be like Remy dat way, I swear. Loves dat one mo’ dan sense.” She pulled out a cellphone and started to make a call.

Becca and Sofia could only stare as Bella Donna patiently waited for her call to be answered. After about the tenth ring, it finally was.

“Remy!” Bella Donna said, way too cheerfully and not even really trying to sound sincere. Mr. Gambit, it seemed, picked up on this immediately, because Sofia could make out a rumble on the other hand, and Bella Donna’s face dropped.

“What you mean, what is dis? Can’ an old amie put a call in?”

More rumbling, louder this time.

“All right, all right. You caught me. Bien. It jus’ so happens I’ve come into possession of somethin’ dat belong to you. Somethin’ I t’ink’ you’ll want back, non?”

Another rumble, with a questioning lilt. He’d asked what she meant.

“Why, yo’ two lil princesses, you silly ol’ t’ing. Becca an’ … Sofia? You done well wit’ ‘em, an’ you can tell Anna I said dat. I trus’ she be comin’ wit’ you? Assumin’ you want ‘em back, I mean. De blonde one, she look almost like we coulda made her, heh?”

An outburst. Too distant to be understood but unmistakably angry. And a second, higher-pitched voice, muffled but also definitely agitated. Ms. LeBeau. Sofia wondered if she’d heard the remark about Becca, and shivered.

The conversation picked up again as Bella Donna plowed ahead and asked again if Mr. Gambit would be coming by to collect them. Like they were a coat that had been left in a restaurant.

“Wonderful. Yes, it be de Garden District house. Same as befo’. Tell ‘em at de gate you here ta see me … or, sure, yo femme can bust thru it o’ land on de lawn. … Remy, dey fine. No, I don’ wan’ any money fo’ ‘em, you t’ink I’m poor? No strings, I promise. I ain’t in de kidnappin’ trade. We just had us a lil misunderstandin’, dat’s all. Nothin’ gonna happen to ‘em. … No one’s hurt dem, I swear. Dey’re all right, jus’ a lil shook up, maybe. … So you’ll be ‘round? Lovely.”

Bella Donna ended the call and smirked at the girls, clearly pleased she’d drawn such volatile reactions.

“Yo’ papa an’ maman both be on deir way. Dey’ll be so happy ta see you.”

The next fifteen minutes passed uneventfully, if awkwardly. Bella Donna tried to maintain some levity, asking the girls about themselves and how they’d ended up in Haven. She also asked questions that Becca guessed were aimed at rooting out their relationship with Mr. Gambit and Rogue, about their bedrooms (did they each have their own?), clothes (had Rogue taken them shopping?) and food (surely Mr. Gambit was cooking for them?).

Their answers were vague but polite. Sofia suspected that Bella Donna was being nice so that, when asked, the girls would say she hadn’t mistreated them. For all of her swagger, even she was treading carefully. Sofia found that oddly comforting. This woman was clearly someone dangerous, used to giving orders and having her own way. But Mr. Gambit and, especially it seemed, Rogue unnerved her in the end.

Once the conversation had died down, the girls sat huddled together on a loveseat in the parlor, while Bella Donna leaned against the desk, examining her impeccably manicured fingernails. The collars remained on, and both teens were feeling the effects as their heads ached. All of a sudden, there was a thunderous whomp from outside, and sounds of panicked yelling coming from multiple men.

“Ah, I believe dat’ll be dem now,” Bella Donna said brightly, pushing off the desk to stand up straight. A particularly high-pitched shriek caused all three of them to look toward the window, beyond which … something … was happening out on the lawn. Whatever it was, it seemed one-sided.

“I do hope she don’ make any new holes in my grass,” Bella Donna said ruefully. “Dat’d be a bitch to deal wit’.”

Becca’s eyes widened and she mouthed holes? at Sofia, who shrugged.

The next sound was much closer, as the beautiful front door was blown to smithereens.

“Damn it, Remy!” Bella Donna yelled toward the entry way. “I tol’ you, dey’re fine. You coulda just knocked like a civilized person. Ya don’ need ta destroy ma maison, ya hear?”

Mr. Gambit stepped through the hole he’d just blown into the front of the house and framed the doorway to the parlor, holding a fresh pair of charged cards. On seeing Bella Donna and the girls, he pulled the charge back and pocketed the cards. Sofia, who was used to seeing him around the Haven House grounds in jeans and gym shorts, was slightly awed at how dressed up he looked, in charcoal gray trousers, impossibly shiny black shoes and a tailored, dark green shirt. A pair of glasses were folded and sticking out of the shirt’s breast pocket. His auburn hair was swept back, seeming to somehow defy gravity. Sofia remembered that he and Rogue were supposed to be on a date tonight, and felt bad about it getting broken up on their account.

“What damn nerve ya got, Bel,” he said, his eyes trained on the girls cowering on the loveseat. Becca waved at him and smiled weakly, and Sofia swallowed. He seemed angrier at Bella Donna than at them, but who knew how long that would last? Bella Donna at least hadn’t snuck out of the house.

Suddenly his red-and-black eyes flared violently, so much that Sofia thought for a second they’d shoot an energy (or was it a laser?) blast like Mr. Summers’ did.

“Collars, Bel? Fuckin’ collars?!” he roared.

“Language!” Becca said reflexively in a hoarse whisper, her blue eyes wide and scandalized. Sofia just flinched. She’d never seen him that mad. Not at Graymalkin, or at Haven House, or in the Dark Artery, either. Certainly not when they’d been suspended from school — if anything, he’d seemed proud of them then.

“Don’ overreact none, Remy, it be for deir safety. We dunno what it be dey do, didn’ want ‘em burnin’ de dang house down, see?”

“Bel, you take dose t’ings off now ‘fore Rogue sees. Or, swear ta God, she will kill you an’ I be inclined to let ‘er. It only be ‘cause we got history dat I don’ do it myself.”

Bella Donna looked like she might push back, but instead she pulled a small remote from somewhere inside her cape, and pressed a button on it. The girls’ collars beeped once and then opened, dropping onto the sofa. Sofia instantly felt better, though she knew there’d be a throbbing pain for a while.

Bella Donna discreetly reached down to grab the collars and stash them in one of the desk drawers, presumably so they’d be out of sight when Rogue arrived.

Freed of their collars, Becca and Sofia both shot up off the sofa and ran to Mr. Gambit, who wrapped an arm around each of them, then leaned down and asked, somewhat frantically, “You both OK? No one try anyt’ing? No one touch you?”

“We’re OK,” Becca said, her voice trembling.

“Speakin’ o’ Anna, I assume dat be her dulcet tones I hear outside?”

“You assume correctly,” Remy muttered distractedly as he gave both girls a once-over. “It be like dat scene in de Lost World when de T. Rex show up for de bébé. T’ink she mighta tossed a car, too.”

“Always was full o’ dramatics, dat one,” Bella Donna said. “Please, Remy, dere’s not a mark on ‘em. You can stop fussin’ over ‘em like a hen.”

“You lucky I be wit’ her, Bel,” Remy said, finally satisfied that neither of the girls had been hurt. “If she come here alone …”

“She got a problem wit’ violence, I always say,” she replied. “An’ you always makin’ excuses fo’ her. Love make us do des choses folles.”

At that moment, Rogue flew in through the chasm Mr. Gambit had made of the front of the house, turned sharply and then landed in the parlor, pushing her windswept hair out of her face. Like Mr. Gambit, she was dressed up, and Becca and Sofia both could only take a second to gasp at how pretty she looked, despite being so mad. Her rich brown hair was wavy and loose, the distinctive white streak framing her face, and her green eyes flashed with a terrible fury. She wore a deep red halter dress with black flowers embroidered along the hem, and strappy black sandals.

Huh, Sofia thought. They switched colors.

“You look so beautiful,” Becca breathed, momentarily forgetting where they were and what was going on.

Rogue shot her a brilliant, loving smile before training a murderous gaze at Bella Donna.

“You.”

Bella Donna put her hands up in a conciliatory gesture, as if that might save her from Rogue’s rage.

“Now, now, Anna. Yo’ filles, dey stowed away, see. Not knowin’ what it was be goin’ on. Soon as we find out dey yours, I call Remy, an’ here you are. No need to make a big deal out of it.”

Now that Rogue had also arrived, Mr. Gambit dropped a quick, gentle ghost of a kiss on top of each of the girls’ heads before gently pushing them both behind him, facing Bella Donna with Ms. LeBeau beside him.

“Not make a big deal?” Rogue asked, her fists clenched. “Who brought ‘em here? Who put hands on ‘em?”

“Two o’ mine, but I promise, dey didn’ know who dey were. An’ it not be like we go ‘round trawlin’ de streets fo’ kids in any case.”

“It’s tttrue, Ms. LeBeau,” Sofia said, putting a hand on her arm. “They gggot really scared when they found out.”

“I bet,” Mr. Gambit said drily. “I sure it be true, dat dey didn’ know nothin’. All de same, Bel, we’d speak to both o’ dem. Now.”

“Dat put me in an awkward spot, Remy,” Bella Donna said. “Dese men, dey be under my protection, you get me?”

“We ain’t gonna do nothin’ dat’ll leave ‘em scarred none,” Mr. Gambit said. “We jus’ wanna talk.”

“Speak fo’ yourself, sugah,” Rogue spat.

“You in control o’ yo’ femme, Remy?” Bella Donna asked, her cold blue eyes narrowing. The fury between the two women was palpable, but Sofia noticed that of the two, only Bella Donna seemed a bit frightened. Rogue, well, she was just angry.

“No one in control o’ my femme,” Mr. Gambit said. “But I promise, no one gonna hurt yo’ boys. Right, chére?”

“Yeah, all right,” Rogue said. “Ah put the fear o’ God into ‘em, that’ll have to do fo’ now.”

“See, ain’t no one gettin’ dismembered. But you try ta keep ‘em from us, we tear dis house apart lookin’ for ‘em. Den, can’ make any promises, hein? Who know what state dey be in when we done. Get me?”

Bella Donna sighed, nodded and then pressed an intercom button on the desk, speaking into it that Georges and Claude should both come to the parlor. Mr. LeClerq’s involvement, such as it was, went unremarked on. Maybe he’s less expendable. 

Shortly after, both men timidly stumbled in, avoiding making eye contact with anyone and keeping their eyes to the floor.

“Messieurs, sit,” Mr. Gambit said nicely enough, gesturing to the loveseat. Bella Donna stayed in the room, but made no move to speak for them, instead leaning on the desk as if she were merely an observer. Sofia wondered what was going to happen.

Once the men were seated, they finally looked up, making eye contact with Mr. Gambit.

“You know who I am?”

“Oui, sir,” Claude said quietly.

“An’ you know who she is?” Mr. Gambit said, nodding toward Rogue.

“Oui.”

“Très bien. Good start. Now, Bel here, she say you didn’ mean to snatch dese young filles, is dat right? Dat you didn’ know dey be ours. But even so, you ain’t into kidnappin’. Dat be an accurate recollection?”

“It do,” Georges said. “Dey hid out in our van, we didn’ even know dey were dere ’til we got back.”

Mr. Gambit nodded and looked at the girls, then turned his gaze back toward the men and continued.

“Why’d dey hide in yo’ van?”

“We were extractin’ someone on Madame Boudreaux’s orders,” Claude answered. “It all be sanctioned an’ signed off on, swear. But yo’ filles, dey t’ought somethin’ was afoot, so dey followed. T’inkin’ dey wanna be heroes.”

Mr. Gambit smiled at that, and even Rogue’s face softened a bit. But then the tone shifted.

“You put hands on ‘em?” Mr. Gambit asked sharply, his amiable demeanor turning on a dime.

“We … we … it …well …”

“Oui ou non?”

“We had to! De little one, petite she-devil, she be kickin’ and punchin’ her way out, and de blonde, she be on a damn fire-horse. It be self-defense!” Georges said frantically, looking at the girls as if he hoped they’d back him up.

“An’ once you find out who dey belong to, Bel call me?”

“Absolutement! She sent us out an’ … an’ called you. She knew, we all knew, dey had to go back. No question.”

“I see. Right den. Here’s what gonna happen. Given de misunderstandin’ an’ all, congrats, fellas, you both get to go on livin’.”

Both men sighed in relief and slumped back into the cushions. Mr. Gambit moved closer until he was outright towering over both of them. They looked up and gulped, being mistaken if they thought they were out of the woods. But the dangerous glint in his eyes hadn’t abated at all, not really.

“But now you got no excuse. Now you know. You see dese filles ‘round town, you make a U-turn. You cross de street. You swan dive into a goddamn open manhole. ‘Cause you so much as breathe de same air as dem, an’ I hear ‘bout it, you each gettin’ a card in de neck. An’ not a good one, neither. I’ll do ya wit’ de t’ree o’ clubs. We clear?”

“Clear, sir,” they both mumbled.

“Dat goes for any o’ my four.”

“Understood,” they replied.

“Now, kindly fuck off.”

“Language!”

Mr. Gambit winced and turned as the men both bolted. “Désolé, Becca. Forgettin’ dere be young ears present.”

“Well,” Bella Donna said, clapping her hands. “I do love ta see parents reunited wit’ deir bébés. Really warms de heart.”

“Like you have one, sugah,” Rogue muttered under her breath.

Bella Donna’s eyes narrowed.

“Curious, ain’t it, Anna, you gotta collect strays off de streets? Takin’ in someone else’s castoffs?”

“Bel, dat’s enough,” Remy hissed. “Yo’ house still be standin’, but dat can change. Right now, you jus’ need a contractor. ‘Less you wanna make it an architect, watch yo’ mouth.”

“Jus’ makin’ an observation, mon amour,” Bella Donna purred. “Anna ain’t yet presented you wit’ an heir, so she makin’ up fo’ it wit’ lil foundlin’s. Whatever works, I guess.”

Rogue flinched as if she’d been slapped, her fists clenched. Mr. Gambit looked back and forth between the two women, seemingly trying to figure out if there’d be a fight. He couldn’t stop Rogue even if he’d wanted to, and Sofia thought what the other woman had said was horrible. She also knew she’d called Mr. Gambit “love,” which seemed very inappropriate.

“I was a foundlin’, Bel, or don’ you remember?” Mr. Gambit said. “Didn’ stop me from becomin’ king."

“Bit of a modest way fo’ le diable blanc to describe it, but fair ‘nuf, Remy, fair ‘nuf. Jus’ t’inkin’ out loud. Be nice to have one born in de purple an’ all, but we make do wit’ what we can get, non? Has Jean-Luc met dese precious ones yet? He spoil ‘em rotten, you know. Ponies all ‘round. Jus’ like how I’m sure dey got you wrapped ‘round deir lil fingers by now.”

“Dey haven’ met Jean-Luc yet, no. Hasn’t been a good time,” Remy said. “An’ none o’ dat diable blanc nonsense, you know I never bought into any o’ dat. It was all de Guild.”

“What ‘bout de other grands-parents, hmm? Can see Anna’s charmin’ mamans takin’ dese filles douces on all sorts o’ messy adventures. You might not even get ‘em back.”

“Remy,” Rogue said through gritted teeth. “It’d be a good idea if we stopped misusin’ Bel’s hospitality, or Ah’m gonna put her in the hospital.”

Becca gasped at the threat but Sofia smiled, happy to see Ms. LeBeau stand up for herself. What Rogue would have done to Bella Donna without them there to see it, she’d rather not know. She found herself not really caring, though.

“Indeed, chére. It be gettin’ late an’ we got young ones ta atten’ to,” Mr. Gambit said, taking Rogue’s hand and pointing Becca and Sofia to the door. Becca actually waved goodbye to Bella Donna, before Sofia gently batted her hand and shook her head. Jiminy cricket, Becca, come on. 

As they were heading out into the entry way to leave, the hot, humid outdoor air drifting oppressively inward — that hole would take a while to fix, Sofia guessed — Mr. Gambit turned back a final time to address Bella Donna.

“Do I even wanna know ‘bout de poor bâtard my filles t’ought dey were savin’?”

“Oh, dat ol’ t’ing? Antoine De Vere. I give you de short version. Double-crossed his fellow Assassins fo’ pay, got people killed, gonna get what’s comin’ to ‘im. After a fair hearin’, o’ course. Dat a problem, Remy?” Bella Donna asked, her chin sticking up in defiance. “O’ shall I tell you how to run yo’ Guild next?”

“Huh. Dat evil sumbitch still alive?” Mr. Gambit asked, cocking his head. “Carry on den, Bel. Jus’, I don’ wanna know nothin’ ‘bout it, ya hear?”

Sofia frowned at this. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, exactly, but it wasn’t Mr. Gambit just letting Bella Donna get away with kidnapping someone, even if it sounded like he was maybe probably a bad man. Rogue, too, didn’t seem particularly troubled about it. Almost like this sort of thing didn’t surprise or trouble them much at all. Huh.

“Bonne nuit den, Remy. Girls. An’ you, Anna,” Bella Donna said, Rogue’s human name sounding like it was spoken with a mouthful of glass.

“Sugah,” Rogue drawled, sparing a last glance over her shoulder at her would-be rival. “It’s la reine to you.”

She didn’t even glance back long enough to see Bella Donna’s stunned, beaten expression, but Sofia did.

Chapter Text

Mr. Gambit and Rogue shepherded Sofia and Becca outside, where the full extent of the X-Men’s terrible fury was evident. The wrought-iron gate was blown open, all warped and scorched, and there were various holes dotting the lawn that would need to be filled. A handful of the Assassins’ guards were still sprawled out in various states of consciousness. None were seriously injured, but they’d all feel it in the morning.

Mr. Gambit had pulled out in front in case anyone tried anything on their way out, so they followed his lead, with Rogue picking up the rear. Luckily everyone was either knocked out or else wisely decided to keep their distance.

“Wwwell, good thing that’s ooover,” Sofia squeaked after they had walked down the driveway, stepping around some prone guards in their path and out onto the sidewalk.

“Dat be real cute, lil Jitterbug, but you both in deep, deep trouble,” Mr. Gambit said sharply. “Ain’t nobody gettin’ any ice cream dis time, you hear me?”

“I knew it!” Becca cried, her lower lip quivering.

“What de hell you two doin’ in de Quarter alone at night? No chaperone, no word, no note, no call, nothin’?”

“Bbbecca needed a break,” Sofia said miserably. “Yyyou know, Mr. Gambit. She’s been sleepwalking and so scared lately. I wwanted to help her relax and ffforget about all that. We wwwere gonna be back bbbefore anyone knew we were gone.”

Mr. Gambit visibly relaxed somewhat and he exhaled, then glanced back at Sofia. His expression, though still stern, had softened.

“I get de sentiment, Sof, I do. But ya gotta be smart. What if someone else took you? What if you couldn’ reach us? I love dis here town, mes filles, but don’ t’ink I wouldn’ rip it apart ta find you.”

Sofia gasped softly, touched by the sentiment. But she also knew he was right. The adults came off angry, but really, they were more scared of what could have happened to them.

“Yes, Mr. Gambit. We’re very sorry.”

“I knew we should’ve stayed home,” Becca said, although Sofia noticed she made no move to blame her for what had happened. Ballerina, you’re in trouble ‘cause of me, but even now, we’re in this together.

“Yes, you should’ve,” Rogue said grumpily but half-heartedly. “But no use cryin’ over spilled sweet tea. All the same, y’all did sneak out and Ah did have ta deal with Bella Donna Boudreaux on what was supposed to be our date night. We’ll have ta think up suitable punishment for you both — don’t look at me like that, Becca — but for now, let’s just focus on gettin’ to the house.”

“Back to Haven?” Becca asked.

“Not Haven House,” Mr. Gambit said. “De Guild house. It late. I t’ink you both probably exhausted an’ …” — he chose his next words carefully, so as not to give Rogue a good excuse to go back and level Bella Donna’s house when she found out the girls had been collared — “… I imagine you gonna have a headache for a bit.”

“Wwwe just cccame from the Guild house,” Sofia said, confused.

“Oui, dat back dere was de Assassins’ Guild house. We goin’ to de T’ieves’ Guild house,” Remy said. “It much nicer dan Bel’s pile,” he said with a playful wink over his shoulder. "It only be an easy enough walk, 'nother ten, fifteen minutes."

“Ms. Bella Donna said you were the King of Thieves, Mr. Gambit,” Becca said quietly, looking up at him as she pulled forward to walk next to him on the sidewalk. “What does that mean?”

“It be complicated, chérie. I tell you all ‘bout it sometime, but fo’ now, jus’ know it mean I got other business ta do sometimes, OK? It also mean dere be some mean people — meaner dan Bel, even — who’ll wanna have words wit’ me on occasion. So I gotta be careful, see. But it nothin’ I can’ handle.”

“Mmms. LeBeau?” Sofia asked quietly. She was walking beside Rogue behind Becca and Mr. Gambit. 

“Yes, baby?” 

“Bbbella Donna said ssome mean things about you. Are you OK?”

She nodded.

“That’s just ol’ Bel’s way, that’s all. She always thought she’d be marryin’ Remy … Gambit … for the long haul and it sticks in her craw that Ah finally got ‘im. But she ain’t so bad sometimes. We, well … we’re frenemies now, Ah guess.”

They finished the walk in companionable silence, the neighborhood mostly quiet around them. Sofia noted the houses that they passed, from tidy, well-kept cottages to imposing mansions.

“Here we are,” Mr. Gambit announced, finally stopping outside yet another iron gate. 

“Wwwow, Mr. Gambit. You wweren’t kidding,” Sofia breathed as she stared at the Thieves’ Guild house, which was a stunning Greek Revival situated at the end of a long driveway within the gate. It did indeed leave the Assassins’ Guild house in the dust. 

Mr. Gambit entered a code into the keypad on the gate. It swung open with a beep and he hurriedly ushered everyone in.

“Careful on de driveway,” he said. “Shouldn’ be anyone drivin’ ‘round tonight but we droppin’ in unannounced.”

The house gleamed white even in the darkness, glittering from the inside like a gold-filled treasure chest. It looked to be a near-perfect square, pillars lining the wraparound porch at even intervals, and pops of color from flower baskets set on the ground between them.

There were a pair of men in dark, plain suits waiting on the porch. They had been lulling in some wicker chairs in the evening humidity, but stood at attention immediately as soon as they saw the visitors approaching.

“Mon roi,” said one of them, a guy with long, sandy blond hair in a ponytail and matching chin-fuzz who looked about Jubilee’s age. He bowed his head, as did the other man — Sofia guessed they were guards — who was more muscular and older, with dark hair and a thick neck.

“Et ma reine,” the younger guard added, turning and dipping his head to Rogue.

“We weren’ expectin’ you tonight, sir, but do come in an’ let Paul know what needs doin’,” the second, beefier guard added, rushing to open the door for them.

“‘Pologies fo’ de last-minute showin’, gents,” Remy said congenially. “But merci fo’ de welcome.”

The inside of the house was as warm and welcoming as the Assassins’ house had been cold and off-putting. Sofia noted that both houses had exquisite decorations and furniture, which meant the difference in their ambiance was likely down to the people living in them.

An older man, also in a suit, who reminded Sofia of the LeClerq fellow at the Assassins’ place, was in the foyer to greet them. Like LeClerq, he also had a more pronounced, clipped accent, making his speech almost aristocratic.

“Monsieur and Madame LeBeau, you are most welcome. And you’ve brought your girls, at last.”

At last? Sofia thought. Huh. Everyone seemed to know about them here, but they knew nothing about any of this.

“Bonsoir, Paul,” Mr. Gambit said, shaking the man’s hand. “Indeed, dese filles be half o’ our … uh, litter. De boys both be at home still, but dese here are Becca and Sofia.” He indicated each girl in turn, and they both waved shyly.

“Good evening, young ladies,” said Paul — who seemed to be a butler of some kind, in charge of the house — nodding his head to each of them in turn. 

“Evenin’, Paul,” Rogue said, shaking the man’s hand. “Thanks so much for keeping everythin’ tidy fo’ us.”

“Of course, madame.”

“You know I don’t like that stuff, sugah. Anna’s fine. Or, hell, Rogue.”

“Anna,” the man said, smiling.

Mr. Gambit took charge then, gently slapping Paul on the back and urging him deeper into the house.

“Now dat we’ve all made introductions, we can get settled in. Anna an’ I’ll be wantin’ de main bedroom.”

“And the … heiresses, sir?”

“Don’ be callin’ ‘em dat,” Mr. Gambit chided. “Nothin’ official, an’ I don’ want ‘em gettin’ a complex. For les filles, believe it de two rooms on de floor wit’ us. Dey should each have deir lil toiletry kits an’ some fresh clothes, oui?”

“Yes, sir. Everything’s in place. And the corresponding rooms downstairs will be ready for the boys, should you think it appropriate to bring them in the future.”

“Merci, Paul. I, ah, don’ suppose mon père be in?”

“No, sir. He’s overseeing a, er …” Paul eyed the girls, clearly choosing his words carefully. “… He’s overseeing an excursion in Prague. I believe he sent you the brief a few days ago.”

“He probably did, but I’ve had other t’ings on my mind,” Remy admitted. “No mind, sure dat’ll go well. Jus’ woulda been nice if he here to meet ‘em. ‘Nother time. An’ lord, can’ even imagine what Tante Mattie’d make of ‘em. Dat’ll take some legwork.”

“We may never get Val out of Mattie’s,” Rogue said, smiling. “That woman’s food, mercy. Can taste it even now. Boy’d be in heaven.”

“I’m hungry,” Becca announced suddenly, and everyone turned to look at her. “We just had some beignets but that’s been forever ago.”

“Mmme too,” Sofia said, embarrassed to be asking but she could feel her stomach growling. 

“Dat’s fine, lil ones. We fix you somethin’ an’ den straight ta bed, hear? We go back ta Haven in de mornin’,” Mr. Gambit said. “In de meantime, Monsieur Paul will make sure yo’ rooms be ready fo’ you.”

Paul disappeared upstairs and Mr. Gambit and Rogue led the girls through the house. To their immediate left was a parlor, similar to the room in which they’d been held at the Assassins’ house. To the right was the formal dining room, which, even with the lights off, Sofia could tell was beautiful.

They walked toward the back of the house, passing the staircase on the left, under which was a closet. To the back left was a library-style den, less formal than the parlor but still richly decorated. It looked like the sort of room where you’d expect to see men drinking brandy after eating. Off this den was a small powder room. 

To the back right was the kitchen, full of gleaming appliances and a bar-seating island counterop. A small butler’s pantry pass-through connected the kitchen to the dining room. Behind the kitchen was a fireplace with a cozy sofa and armchairs and a television. A door set between the den and the kitchen at the back of the house opened onto the porch. 

Mr. Gambit pointed out everything as he and Rogue gave the girls a walk-through tour, ending up in the kitchen. 

“Dunno what all we got,” he said as he rifled through the fridge, “but we make do.”

He ended up reheating a quick meal of red beans, rice and sausage that he found while rummaging in the fridge, while Becca, Sofia and Rogue sat on stools at the island. Rogue pulled out her phone and dialed.

“Hey, Logan,” she said. “Dunno if you happened ta notice that the girls hightailed it?”

She listened to him reply.

“Now don’t get all sour. No one’s askin’ you to baby-sit or nothin’, but all the same, Sofia and Becca walk out the front door and you don’t notice, bit concernin’, sugah. … Naw, they’re with us, don’t worry. You don’t gotta go killin’ nobody tonight. We’ll all be back in the mornin’.”

This back and forth continued a bit. 

“Kurt make it home OK from the DeNeers’? Good. No, Ah ain’t worried about Hotoru, he just likes to hang in the graveyard, odd lil thing. … Val, he’s probably still talkin’ with Idie, you know. … We’re at the house. No, not the Quarter townhouse, the ramblin’ one out in the Garden District. No, the other ramblin’ one out in the Garden District. Not the first one Remy bought, the big ol’ fancy one he bought a lil while back without tellin’ his wife.

“We’ll explain what all happened tomorrow, don’t worry. Yes, they’re gonna be grounded. What d’ya mean, we don’t have the balls to ground ‘em?”

“I heard dat!” Mr. Gambit called, turning his head from the stovetop. “You can tell Logan, dey be on lockdown, dat’s a promise.”

Becca and Sofia stayed quiet, meeting each other’s eyes but otherwise not doing anything to make their situation worse. They were in enough trouble. 

“Remy says they’re on lockdown,” Rogue said, then she called out, “Logan says he’ll believe it when he sees it, Rem.”

Mr. Gambit made an exasperated noise and threw his arms up. 

“De indignity!” he mock-cried. 

Rogue hung up with Logan then as Remy put the finishing touches on the food.

“You have another house?” Becca asked. “In the Quarter? And in the Garden District?”

Rogue nodded.

“Yeah, honey. We have quite a few places in the city. The Quarter townhouse is mah favorite, but there’s this place, another house, bigger than this one, even, that Remy bought when he was younger that still needs a lot o’ work done to it, a few apartments and such here and there and some commercial space.”

“Monsieur Gambit be an astute real estate collector,” he said as he plated their late-night dinner. It smelled amazing, Sofia thought, her stomach growling again.

“Jus’ what young tums need ‘fore dey turn in,” Mr. Gambit said, putting the loaded plates on the island bar counter in front of them before sitting down himself. “Bon appetit, mes filles.”

“Dddid you tell Mr. Paul to put out clothes for us?” Sofia asked, after she’d chewed and swallowed a hunk of fiery sausage.

“Oui, chil’. Don’ t’ink anythin’ of it, now. Jus’ a bit o’ contingency in case we need to travel some or spend time away from Haven. Like tonight. A lil backup. All four o’ you got clothes here, an’ stuff for tidyin’ like toothbrushes, shower kit, dat kinda t’ing.”

“Will we be here a lot?” asked Becca, who’d been daintily eating her meal one bit of sausage at a time while Sofia had plowed through hers.

“Non, shouldn’ t’ink so. It a Guild base, not really fo’ X-Men stuff. We, er, jus’ have a bit o’ overlap is all.”

“But it’s your house?” Becca pressed. 

“Oui, it mine. Mine an’ Rogue’s.”

Once everyone had eaten, they cleaned up their own dishes — “Not gonna be Paul’s problem, girls,” Rogue said — and then trooped upstairs.

“Dat be our room,” Mr. Gambit said, pointing to a set of double doors on the hallway to the left of where the stairs opened onto the second-floor landing. It appeared to take up a solid half of the floor.

“You girls are over here,” Rogue said, steering them to the right on the landing. “Facin’ this way, Sofia, you’re on the left, Becca, you’re on the right. You each have your own bathroom. The windows open out onto the upstairs porch, but don’t be crawlin’ around out there tonight. Don’t want the boys downstairs to see you and think we’re bein’ burgled.”

“Mon père got hisself a lil den wit’ an office up in de attic,” Mr. Gambit said. “Val an’ Hotoru got deir rooms down on de garage level. Couple other spare rooms down dere fo’ de guards when dey rotate, plus laundry, storage an’ a small game room wit’ a lil bar where I’ve never, not once, held an off-de-books poker game, if anybody ask. Paul, he got a cottage out on de grounds. An’ tada, dat be notre maison.”

Each of the girls’ rooms had a full bed, a mirrored vanity that could double as a desk, a bookshelf, a small closet and a cozy armchair with an ottoman. More than that, at some point, each room had been specially decorated for each girl.

Becca’s room had a horse-print coverlet, horseshoes on the walls, a saddle blanket draped over the armchair and riding-themed knickknacks. Sofia’s had bold colors and posters of Dazzler on the wall, one of which, she noticed with glee, had even been signed. Whoa.

The closets and drawers, far from just having some spare odds and ends, were full of clothes. 

“We, uh, may have gone overboard gettin’ everythin’ ready,” Rogue said sheepishly. “Knew we’d likely bring y’all here sometime, just didn’t know it’d be so soon. Anythin’ y’all don’t like, tell us, but we tried to pick out stuff based on what you usually wear. Jubes helped, too. Got a good eye, that one.”

“De boys’ rooms be de same,” Remy said. “Even got an Otter Party poster fo’ Hotoru’s after he seemed to like it so dang much.”

Both girls hugged Rogue and Mr. Gambit tightly. It had really, finally hit Sofia that they weren’t just their teachers and guardians. While she might not ever call them mom and dad, she appreciated what they’d done for all of them. They were safe, loved and looked after, and their gifts were acknowledged and cherished and allowed to grow. They’d hit the jackpot. If that love wasn’t parental, what was it? But then, saying the words would make it real. 

“Thank you so much,” Becca whispered as she hugged them.

“You deserve the world, and then some. All o’ you. Sweet dreams, baby,” Rogue said. “Now, this is an unfamiliar house, all right? We’ll keep an ear out if you find yourself up walkin’, but just … try to be careful.”

“I’ll be all right,” Becca said. 

“Night, now,” Mr. Gambit said. “We jus’ down de hall, hein? You come a knockin’ if anythin’ pops up. See you in le matin.”

The girls spared a quick hand squeeze before separating to go to their bedrooms.

“Nnnight, Ballerina,” Sofia said, brushing Becca’s ponytail with her fingertips.

“Night, Sof,” Becca replied, yawning.

The bed was cozy and the sounds of birds and bugs through a cracked-open window lulled Sofia to sleep quickly. She had meant to keep an ear out for Becca’s possible sleepwalking, but it turned out it wasn’t necessary, because she slept well, too.

The next morning, they all put on clean clothes — Mr. Gambit and Rogue were back in casual jeans and T-shirts, their fancy wear left behind to be dry-cleaned — and assembled for a quick breakfast in the kitchen. This turned out to be bacon and pancakes, which Mr. Gambit artfully flipped over his shoulder for them to catch on their plates. The adults had French press coffee and all four had glasses of orange juice. 

“We’re sorry about ruining your date,” Becca said between mouthfuls of syrup-drenched pancakes. “You both looked so nice.”

“Merci, Becca. An’ don’ worry, we do it some other time. Also ain’t de worst t’ing to happen on one o’ our dates befo’, eh chére?” Mr. Gambit said, wagging his eyebrows at Rogue in what was clearly an inside joke.

“Thank God no boysenberry pie was involved,” Rogue muttered.

“Huh?” Sofia asked, confused. 

“We tell you later, petite. Fo’ now, let’s finish up an’ get back ta Haven, eh?”

Mr. Gambit had one of the Guild guards drive all of them into the Quarter, where he and Rogue had left their car last night at the townhouse Rogue had mentioned. It turned out Rogue had flown them to the Assassins’ house. Sofia was curious about the townhouse, thinking they might go in, but instead Mr. Gambit keyed open a gate that led to an old carriage passage, where the car was parked. The entry to the townhouse was actually at the end of that passage, back away from the main road outside. What looked like the front of the house on the sidewalk was actually a shopfront.  

New Orleans is so neat, Sofia thought before being ushered into the car for the drive back to Haven. She just hoped they’d be able to visit that Quarter townhouse again sometime and go inside, so she could see why Rogue liked it so much.

The St. Juniors family was still away and would be until Sunday night, but Sofia saw Mr. Logan, Jubilee, Mr. Kurt, Val and Hotoru waiting for them out on the porch of Haven House. Hotoru had two of the three LeBeau cats draped on him, with Waffles at his feet.

While Haven House was massive and sprawling in its own way, chock full of people at the moment and every bedroom taken, it could never hope to match the splendor of either of the houses Sofia had experienced the night before. But that was OK. It felt lived in, and joyous. It had seen much in its time, and there was room for more. It had nothing to prove. 

Sofia noticed Mr. Gambit especially looked lovingly at the house as they parked the car and approached the front steps. He had fancy apartments and houses all over, it seemed, but even he needed a place with no pretensions, no expectations other than a willingness to work and be open-minded. There was a reason he’d kept them here and not any of the Guild houses. 

“‘Bout time you got back,” Mr. Logan said gruffly as they climbed up the porch steps, Sofia and Becca first and Rogue and Mr. Gambit coming up behind them. “And with two little troublemakers, too.”

“Cool your jets, Logan,” Rogue said. “They’ve already gotten a talkin’ to. No one died.”

“That’s too bad,” Hotoru murmured, absent-mindedly stroking Oliver’s fluffy gray head. 

“Gotta say, girls, I didn’t know you had it in you,” Jubilee said, a spark of mischief in her brown eyes. “But you’ve both been so well-behaved so far, a little rebellion was bound to pop up eventually.”

“Don’ encourage ‘em none, Jubilation,” Mr. Gambit chided her. “De idea is to make ‘em not wanna sneak out at night.”

“Just know I didn’t narc on you,” Val said solemnly. Val held Figaro in his arms, where the third cat was purring contentedly. 

“Wwwe know, Val,” Sofia said.

“Don’t let ‘em shoot you those baby deer eyes, Cajun,” Mr. Logan said gruffly. “Sneakin’ out at night, gettin’ in trouble in the city. Can’t let that go, you hear me? You gotta have discipline. Structure. These kids, they need it.”

“Oui, mon ami. Dey on lockdown de next few weekends, an’ I’ll have Marcus assign ‘em some extra chores. Not my first rodeo,” Mr. Gambit groused. 

“I give your lockdown a week, tops, Remy,” Jubilee said. “I don’t think you’ve got the guts. Hell hath no fury like a teenage girl under house arrest. Ask me how I know.”

“Bad enough I get guff from Logan, petite, don’ need it from you too,” he said offendedly, although Sofia could tell he was trying not to smile. 

“Well, if we’re all caught up,” Rogue said, clapping her hands together, “Ah think we could do with some good ol’ Danger Room trainin’.”

“Wunderbar,” Kurt said. “Sofia, Liebchen, you can practice the extension exercises we’ve been doing. Let’s try getting it up to a minute and a half, ja?”

“Sssure, Mr. Kurt,” Sofia said. “Lemme jjjust change into my uniform.”

“Little one, I keep telling you, it’s just Kurt!” he chided her gently before shooing her into the house. 

“Everyone, into uniform. Shoo, shoo, shoo,” Rogue said. “Let’s not waste a perfectly good Sunday.”

“I didn’t sneak out last night,” Val pointed out. “Do I still have to do Danger Room drills?”

“You certainly do, champ,” Mr. Logan said to his mentee. “Let’s also not pretend you wouldn’t have gone out with the girls if you hadn’t been makin’ cow eyes at Idie on your video call.”

“I’ll change but first I’m gonna go check on Ember in the barn,” Becca said dreamily. The earlier revelation that the real Ember was dead and this new, uh, un-Ember’s provenance was unknown had done nothing to break Becca’s bond with him. Maybe they’d eventually figure out exactly how she had (apparently) spirited him into being. The horse, for his part, continued behaving like any other horse. If he knew he was actually supposed to be dead, or was some weird demon horse, he didn’t act like it.  

As they headed to their rooms to change, Val pulled Sofia aside.

“What the hell happened?” he asked. “Why are you only back this morning? I heard Rogue call Logan last night. He wouldn’t tell me what was going on, but he was mad.”

“It’s a lllong story,” Sofia muttered. “I’ll tttell you more later. We, um, did find out more about Mr. Gambit and Rogue and wwwhat they do in the city when they go.”

Val’s eyebrow quirked in interest.

“Really? And?”

“Ttturns out they run an international cccrime ring.”

“Huh.” Val’s expression turned perplexed, then curious, and then he finally just shrugged and shook his head. “I figured they just went into town to have sex in peace. I can’t tell if the crime ring thing is more fun or not.”

He patted her on the shoulder and then ducked into his room, while she went into her own and dug out her uniform. She ended up sitting quietly in there for a few minutes, taking everything in. It was messy, the bed was unmade, her schoolbooks and homework were scattered everywhere and she was pretty sure she’d left a half-eaten slice of pizza in here somewhere. But for now, it was her home. 

Maybe it’d always be her home, in some way, even when she finally left it. 

By the time Sofia changed, everyone else, even Becca, had already made their way to the Danger Room — just an outdoor obstacle course the adult X-Men had rigged up, but it got the job done. 

Before walking out to the where everyone else was already doing their drills as Rogue, Mr. Logan, Mr. Kurt and Jubilee looked on, Sofia stopped on the porch, where Mr. Gambit was standing with a mug of coffee he’d scrounged up somewhere.

“Jitter,” he said in greeting. That was the practice: When they were in uniform, or in training, they used their mutant names. It was supposed to get them in the right mental groove. “You bes’ be makin’ yo’ way over, or Rogue’ll come lookin’.”

“I wwill, in a minute,” she said. “Mr. Gggambit, can I ask a question?”

“Shoot, petite. But jus’ know, I can’ cut back on yo’ groundin’. Logan’d never let me hear de end o’ it. Jubes, neither. Becca, she already shoot me a sad lil face wit’ dem baby blues o’ hers on her way out de house. Dunno if I could stand it from you, too.”

“Nnno, not that. It’s jjust … why didn’ you help the man? At Ms. Bella Donna’s house.”

He sighed and nodded, taking a long sip of coffee while he seemingly thought of his response, and said, “Oui, I ‘magine dat troubled you some. De answer is, lil one, sometimes you gotta pick yo’ battles. I happen ta know dat man Bel keepin’ an’, well, let’s jus’ say he probably got it comin’.

“Other t’ing is, it took a lotta work to set t’ings up peaceful like down here. I been gone a long time, an’ Bel — her ego’d explode if she heard dis, mind — has been a big help mindin’ de shop. If she says somethin’s her business, I tend ta respect dat ‘less I have reason ta t’ink otherwise.”

“Ssso you still run the Thieves’ Guild?”

“I do, oui. An’ a big part o’ keepin’ t’ings civil here is stayin’ in my lane an’ trustin’ Bel to stay in hers. I start tryna tell her what to do, could come back down on me. On us. Now, if she be goin’ after someone who didn’ deserve it, I probably say somethin’. But I’m not intercedin’ for murderin’ swamp trash like Antoine De Vere. An’ if dat trouble you, désolé, but when you older, you understan’.” 

Sofia didn’t say anything, just nodded, and then moved to her last question, and the one she was the most anxious about. 

“Ddo you want us to be in the Thieves’ Guild?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Now, why you t’ink dat, Jitterbug?”

“Ms. Bbbella Donna said something about Ms. LeBeau not having babies. And you’re a kkking.”

Mr. Gambit shook his head.

“Les enfants, well. We talk ‘bout it. If it happen, it happen. No sense in tryna rush it. Back on Krakoa, Rogue, she didn’ want any den. It be her choice, den an' now an' always. Maybe, one day. But sure ain’t Bel’s place to say nothin’ so personal.”

“And the Guild?”

“Pfft, I don’ need no heir fo’ de Guild’s sake. We don’ got primogeniture o’ anythin’ o’ dat sort. But I ain’t gonna lie to you, it be a lifelong commitment. Me, got kidnapped as an enfant, adopted by mon père, treated like his own. I t’ink dat be why Rogue an’ I have settled into dis arrangement we got now. We both adopted, see. Me more, ah, successfully dan her. Her mamans, dere be two femmes you don’ need to be meetin’, not a one o’ you. I’d rather leave you alone wit’ a rattler.”

“Mms. LeBeau’s moms?”

“Oui, an’ Kurt’s, too. Dey love Rogue an’ Kurt both, in deir odd, evil bi — uh, unconventional way. But Rogue, she have so much mo’ love to give, wit’ no strings ‘ttached. Dat’s what she feel fo’ you quatre. She’d kill fo’ every last one o’ ya, you know. Hell, so would I. So would Logan, an’ Jubilee, an’ Kurt. Well, maybe not Kurt, 'cause he be a mite religious an' all, but you get my poin’. But Rogue, she different. You hers, now. Which also means, I s’pose, you mine.”

“Wwwe love her too,” Sofia said. “I hope she’s knows that, even if we don’t say it.”

“She does, ma fille, she does, an’ I know it, too,” Mr. Gambit said. “As fo’ de Guild, it’s because I love all o’ you dat I don’ wanna foist dat on you none. I had no choice, growin’ up dat way. But you all, you don’ need to. You let me worry 'bout dat.”

“Dddo you really steal stuff?”

“Oui, but usually from rich people, greedy people o' both,” Remy said, laughing softly. “Dese days, I don’ do much stealin’ myself, mostly tell other folks what ta steal. But like I say, you let me worry ‘bout dat, hein? In de meantime, I do got me an idea. Rogue gonna kill me fo’ suggestin’ dis, but it be dead useful.”

“Wwwhat?”

“Chérie, I t’ink it time you kids learned how to pick a dang lock.”