What a joke. After spending almost a month in bed, under heavy sedation, hooked up to ten machines doing things she would rather not not to think about, none of her clothes looked good on her. The jersey dress was hopelessly unfashionable, but it was high-collared and concealed the powerdampener. It also looked like a sack. When she got downstairs and entered the dining room, it turned out that she hadn't needed to bother with hiding the powerdampener. They all knew, anyway. She saw the anxious and pitying looks on their faces and she wanted a trapdoor to disappear through.

"What de matter, p'tite?"

Remy. He leaned at the door on the opposite side of the room and grinned broadly at her. Not a pleasant grin. Not...a pleasant man either.

"Why do you ask?"

She sat down at her usual place. Jean silently passed her the tea-pot and a cup. A slice of lemon. Rolls and orange juice.

"Maybe you don' go pokin' aroun' in Gambit's head no more, eh?"

He might be joking. On the other hand, he had a cruel streak. Well, two could play that game.

"No, I prefer to stay away from dirt. A female characteristic, perhaps?".

She took a bite of her sandwich. The cardboard taste was the same as always. Remy's face turned greenish-white. He fumbled out a packet of cigarettes, without any of his usual dexterity.

"No smoking indoors, Gambit".

Scott's voice. Law and order. He probably didn't understand any of the darker undercurrents, but he tried to make it right in his own way. The Professor, more perceptive, in any sense, put a restraining hand on Elizabeths arm.

<<<No. Don't do this.>> 

But there was no stopping her now.

"Shut up, Scott", Elizabeth said with the calculated coldness that had become second nature to her. "Why don't you tell us about your more sinister connections, Remy, sugah?"

"Sinister?"

Scott's mouth was hanging open in fear and disbelief. These feelings were reflected even more strongly in Jean's face.

"Elizabeth, you simply cannot accuse Remy of ...", Hank said.

"I knew he was the traitor". Bishop's voice, dull and expressionless. "I've always known".

"Quiet!" The Professor didn't have to raise his voice. "Remy told me he had been a Marauder a long time ago. We agreed to keep it secret. He has more than atoned for that time".

"I'm not sitting at he same table as a Marauder!" Scott jumped to his feet, crimson in the face and seeming dangerously near a heart-attack. "I'm not living in the same house as one! You want me here, Professor, you throw him out! Now!"

"The elementary, yet forgotten question at this point is why miss Braddock didn't enlighten us on this particular subject earlier", Hank said.

"I don't see why you're even discussing this! Just throw him out on his ass!" Scott yelled.

"I'm going to say this only once, so I think you should listen", the Professor thundered. "There's nothing to discuss. No one is leaving. Remy, you're staying. It isn't a question of what you want. The same goes for you, Scott. And if you fire that gun out of order, Bishop, I will be very angry indeed. Elizabeth, if this was what you set out to accomplish, congratulations.God, I'm getting too old for this".

"Professor, I think..."

"Scott, I love you like a son, but I don't care what you think because you usually don't. Sit down, everyone. Pass me the salt, please, Bishop".

"With all due respect, sir, you can not put salt into your coffee".

"No, it was an oblique way of telling you to take your hands off that gun". Xavier drew a deep breath. "As for Remy's past, I might as well relate the main events to you all now, if you do not mind, Remy".

"If he does mind, he doesn't belong here. If he ever did". Scott glared at Remy.

"Remy?" Xavier looked only at the Cajun. "I'm not going to probe you, just tell them what you told me. Is that alright with you?".

"You were not so considerate with me", Elizabeth said sharply.

As she had expected, Xavier became momentarily deaf. Remy sank down on a chair. He tried to light his cigarette, but his hands were shaking too much.

"Don' figure it'll make any difference. People dislikin' me already", he said numbly.

"No kidding". Scott again.

Xavier sent him a devastating glance, clasped his hands together and began to speak as if he was telling a childrens' tale.

"As you all know, Remy was adopted into the Guild of Thieves as a child. He doesn't know how old he was at the time, nor does he have any clear memories of that time. One very strong memory, however, is that of Sinister. It's rather clear and lies close to the surface. I'd suppose that was the one you found, Elizabeth. It's a loving memory, suggesting perhaps a father-son relationship or simply mirroring his, ah, extreme fondness for his test subjects. On different occasions after his acceptance into the Guild, Remy discovered a man following and watching over him, once actively protecting him from an oncoming car. A guardian angel, one might say. After Remy left New Orleans he met the man in a bar. The man revealed himself to be Mr.Sinister. He asked Remy to join the Marauders. Remy, admiring the scientist in Sinister and perhaps acting on some emotional conditioning agreed".

"You didn't see the massacre in the tunnels, sir", Scott said. "Children, women, defenseless creatures. It's unforgivable".

"Remy left well before the massacre. He was, as I've said, an admirer of science. One night, he sneaked into one of the secret labs. Fate would have it, that it was one for experiments gone wrong. Great lumps and globs of flesh, crowded in small tanks for disposal. Oversized organs and human limbs twisted beyond recognition. Research in Sinister's way has its price. Horrified and repulsed, Remy picked his way into Sinisters gene banks and destroyed them all. Then he ran. Sinister sent Sabretooth after him. Remy managed to fake his own death in France and Sabretooth was apparently taken off his case. The business in New Orleans with Belladonna, however, seems to have alerted Sinister to the fact that Remy is alive. He have crossed paths with Remy twice since then. End of story".

Xavier leaned back in the hover-chair, daring them to say something.

"We should vote about it", Scott insisted.

"About what?"

"Don't give me that I-don't-understand crap! We should vote about whether he's staying here or not".

"Scott, it is you who do not understand. There will be no vote. The decision was made when he was accepted into the X-Men a long time ago".

"Like hell it was. Besides, I know what everyone thinks. Myself, I'll gladly throw him out. Jean won't because she'll start that when-I-was-Phoenix. Hank doesn't like him, Bobby thinks he's a loser, Warren thinks he's scum, Bishop thinks he's the traitor. No lost love between him and Betsy and Rogue is in the frigging South, because she couldn't stand him. You, Professor would have him stay. So would Ororo and Logan. Thats seven to four. 'Nuff said".

Xavier looked down at his hands for a long time before answering.

"Were it that simple, most of you wouldn't be here today", he said.

"Betsy?" Jean was outside the darkroom.

"I'm in here". Yes, and snivelling, though there was no need for Jean to know that. Elizabeth had fled the breakfast table first of all, her stomach too upset for food. She had sat in the darkroom since then, crying, scarcely doing any work and ruining what she did do.

"Can I come in?"

"No". Best to keep it short and Jean might go away.

"The Professor got a call from Logan. He wants to see you".

"Who?"

"Logan. He said there is a do-something in North Salem..."

"A dojo".

"That's what I said. Anyway, he'll see you there tomorrow at 15".

"Fine". <Now go away>.

" About breakfast...". A note of reproach crept into Jean's voice. "Charles has so much on his mind now. I really don't think this was the right time for..."

<Teacher's pet.>

"No lectures, Jean. You're hardly in any position to criticise me".

And dammit, her voice broke into a sob on the last word. She wiped her wet cheeks with only slightly less wet hands, having used every Kleenex in the room and even some paper towels smelling of chemicals. Jean didn't answer and Elizabeth began to hope she had finally taken the hint, when the door swung open. Jean came in, squinting in the reddish light.

"Leave me alone", Elizabeth said, mad and ashamed to be found in such a state.

Jean ignored the request and hopped onto the another of the high chairs. She put her elbows on the lab bench and sighed deeply.

"I will be honest with you, Betsy. You're my friend and I know that it never would have happened if not...You see, Scott..."

"What about him?" Elizabeth said, totally confused. "Nothing happened. I've told you. I've said I was sorry".

"No. It 's Madelyne. He loves her, not me".

"But Jean, I thought you had her memories. You're all that's left of her".

<My God, how did I get into this situation? Giving marital advice to Jean of all people? And now, of all times?>

"He wants her. Every waking moment he wants her. Aches for her, the way he treated her and Nathan. His love for me is just a conditioned reflex. He made the wrong choice back in Inferno and he knows it".

Jean looked steadily at Elizabeth. "So I...I thought I'd get drunk and just do it with someone else. A stranger. So it would hurt less. But I couldn't. And then...then it happened".

"What?"

"He said he'd tell you. When I came back from the pub, more than a little drunk, I saw the lights in Warren's room".

Elizabeth gasped. Words failed her. Her ugliest nightmare, her most repressed jealousy gone true.

"Damn you", she whispered at last and the tears started running again.

Jean tried to give her a Kleenex, but Elizabeth knocked her hand away.

"I'm sorry, Betsy. I'm really, really sorry. I went to him, just to talk, I swear. Then..."

"I don't want to know about what you did. You took your chance".

"No".

"You saw your opportunity".

"No! That wasn't how it was. I'm your friend, Betsy".

Elizabeth kicked angrily at a waste container.

"You slept with my boyfriend. Friends don't do that".

"I could say almost the same about you". Jean smiled sadly.

"Yes, but you can't, because Scott is still here.Warren isn't and I'm not going to forgive you so why don't you leave me alone!"

"If that's what you want. Anytime you want to talk about it, though..."

"You'll be there. Yes, I know. Now get out".

..Elizabeth waited until she heard Jean's steps disappear down the hall. Then she slid down on the dirty, chemical-spattered floor and whimpered as a animal in pain.

The sound of illusions crushed doesn't sound as brittle glass breaking or even the dull thud as a blunt object hits your head. It sounds like metal wings hissing in the wind as they carry your love away. It sounds like your best friend's voice as she ceases to be a friend at all. It sounds like your own voice, as it makes sounds you didn't knew could be produced from human vocal cords.