She had to decide whether she would send away the man whom she still had strong feelings for, even though her feeling for Joseph were rising to rival them if they hadn't already surpassed them, or allow the man responsible for the most horrible and ghastly event in mutant history to continue to reside under that same roof escaping the justice deserved.

But would he truly? Would he truly not receive some kind of punishment for his involvement in the massacre if he stayed? The question echoed in her mind as she wished she had her flight jacket with, she had suddenly become cold. Maybe it was nature's way of telling her to make up her mind. Did the punishment fit the crime? If she could honestly answer either yes or no to that question, she would know how to vote. She took another moment to answer.

The cool night air gently lifted the tail end of Remy's brown duster as he ran through the lightly wooded pass to a small street. The street practically glowed, the colors of green and red hung about everything in sight. From the small bush, he could see the banner between two streetlights that read "Merry Christmas." Everything reminded him that today was to be a joyous day, surrounded by friends and family opening gifts and singing songs about a birth that took place over two thousand years ago. Being surrounded by friends and family, the simple thought only made Remy's heart grow heavier.

If he was surrounded by his friends they would probably lynch him. But what about his family?

Remy smiled. He could remember when he was a child, the huge tree his father bought every year and the feast they'd have after he opened all his gifts and Jean-Luc found him under all the wrapping paper. He was probably still doing all that, maybe just with his godchildren instead. The happiness that the memory had brought only lasted a couple of seconds as Remy decided against seeing him. He had already been disowned by his friends, being disowned by his father was something he couldn't handle.

The Christmas lights and the plastic Santas gave the street a sense of life, even though it was completely deserted.

The sidewalks would be filled with happy and energetic people tomorrow, busy to return gifts and to get a bargain at the after Christmas sales, but tonight only Remy walked down the concrete paths, alone and drowning in his sorrow.

Kenny's Tavern, a small bar that he and Wolverine used as an escape to get away from Scott's constant nagging of them or to hide when one of the woman was in a mood that day. They'd have a couple of drinks together, play a little pool, and then simply take separate routes home hoping that the other was the one that would be caught trying to sneak back into the house at odd hours of the night. Today the bar was closed, the bartender home, and the door locked. And it stayed that way, except for the door being locked.

Rogue looked up into the eyes of her teammates, her family, and ignored the silent pleads from either of the two warring factions that separated them. "Stay." In her voice was an unquestionable tone, and even though she had only said one word, that one word had made it's presence known.

She headed up the stairs and as she did she felt a number of eyes on the back of her head. Slightly turning, she caught a glimpse of the sheer confusion on half of the faces and sheer disbelief on the other half. Rogue gently laughed and said, "Listen, Ah'm not gonna be the one that sends that sugah on his way. It's a tie, we can all try him again later, 'til then Ah'm gonna try to enjoy the rest of ma Christmas."

Rogue thought back to being a member of the Brotherhood Evil Mutants and fighting the X-Men. She remembered committing all kinds of horrible crimes for the Brotherhood with the knowledge that they were evil; it was in the name. Pushing away the rising grief that was beginning to tear at her fragile heart she wondered why they didn't put her on trial, they'd have a better case.

At the top of the steps, Rogue shivered slightly. A cold chill had ran down her spine as if Iceman had patted her on the back. She glanced behind her to see if maybe Bobby was there, but he wasn't, nothing was. Some time in front of her heater was definitely in order.

The cigarette smoke that clung to the air of the small tavern nearly choked him as he silently closed the door, relocking it. There were no windows to allow the smoke to escape, all it could do was infect his lungs.

No windows, meaning no one could peer in and see the hopeless man, who had run from, basically his family on Christmas, to break into a tavern and drown his ever growing despair with liquor, hoping that it wouldn't engulf him entirely.

Through the darkness his red eyes glowed, becoming moist, holding back tears of desperation. He had taken another swig from the bottle before he lowered his head into his hands, only then did he allow his quiet tears to crawl down his cheeks. Only then did he allow the flood gate that held back every sorrow filled thought to open, and sitting upon an old, worn-out stool he looked out into the shadows, blankly staring into the dark corner that laid across from him, he wondered if this was hell.

The gentle humming of his own hovercraft was the only sound he heard. Rogue had more or less given Remy an appeal and moved his trial to a later date. Charles smiled for a moment, she had lit a candle to fight against the looming darkness. Unfortunately, that struggling flame, only seconds after it appeared, had been blown out.

It was only appropriate that he looked out to a night sky, only under the cover of darkness could something like this take place. The clouds had begun to disappear back into the night, retreating, letting the hope that stars bore reach the Earth.

Charles could hear his students beginning to stir behind him, finally emerging from the momentary shock that Rogue's statements had caused.

"Does this mean that we have to go get him?"

Angel's words brought Charles back into the reality that was unfolding around him, briefly. Still looking out the window at the clear night sky, he cherished the warm, comforting breeze that passed through his chilled bones, lowering his head, knowing it would only last another second, even less. "There is no need..." If his dream were a day, tonight would be the midnight hour. "...he had a decision to make also and he has made it."

"Charles what are you talking about?"

His head slumped back against the head rest of his chair, his eyes closed, taking within himself the calm. "He has left the grounds." He opened his eyes and again gazed out the window, and witnessed the storm.

The velvet lining of the pool table had given him a chance to escape his feeling for the time being. The cracking of each ball drew Remy deeper into the game, letting him concentrate solely on sinking each one into the well beaten pockets. Each one of his thoughts centered around the colored orbs that laid waiting on the table, their numbers called out to him to sink each one until only one ball stood before him.

The eight ball.

Directly behind it was the corner pocket.

The easiest shot the game had ever seen.

The polished wood of the pool stick laid inches from the ebony ball. The black paint glistened in the dim light of the bar, taking on a slightly whitish cast.

The pool stick drew closer as the ball became flesh toned. Before Remy's eyes the eight ball grew a mop of white hair and then opened its eyes, it's blue eyes, staring right into his own.

"Joseph...," the velvet lining of the table tore, revealing its wooden underbelly, the ball launched high into the air and disappeared into the shadows, rolling away from him, and Remy dropped to his knees before the unfinished game.

Joseph. He haunted him, no matter where Remy went, he couldn't escape him, there was no way to. Even his mind worked against him, bringing forth the image, morphing even a pool ball into him. It wasn't bad enough that Joseph had stolen Rogue right from under his nose and then rubbed the salt into his already open and infected wounds by touching her before his eyes, he had to haunt him no matter where he went. On his knees, on the dust covered floor, he questioned Storm's actions at the river, why did she bring him back? It hurt more now then when it did when he jumped.

The eight ball gently dropped back onto its original spot on the table. It had barely made a sound as it hit the velvet of the table but its sound broke the utter silence of the deserted bar and made its solitary guest look up, pulling him from his grief for a moment.

"So are you gonna finish de game or just stay on de floor for de rest of de night?"