"Jean-Luc!" Claude said, joining the others in the living room. He had gone upstairs to get Emil, only to find that the red-haired twenty-three-year-old wasn't where he should have been. "Do you know where Emil is?"

Jean-Luc and Theoren both looked at their friend, concern on their faces. "What do you mean? Isn' he in his room?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Non. He's not there." Claude replied. "I haven' seen him in a couple of hours, actually."

"I haven' either, now dat I t'ink of it." Mercy commented, wondering where her young cousin was.

"You don' s'pose he…" Theoren began.

"He wouldn'…would he?" Genard asked. "It's so dangerous…"

Jean-Luc got up and stood by the window, staring at the cars as they passed by on the street outside. "He was angry wit' us. It is dangerous, but I truly t'ink he would do anyt'ing for Remy."

"So you're sayin'…" Theoren said.

"I'm sayin' we have to consider de possibility…" Jean-Luc returned.

A few hours before the thieves realized that Emil was missing, Tante Mattie had called them all together at the LeBeau mansion. She explained to them that she had some information regarding Remy that wasn't too pleasant.

"He was put on trial for some of de t'ings he did after he left here a few years ago." She began. "He was found guilty, an' some of de X-Men decided his punishment for lyin' to dem an' his actions was to leave him to die in Antarctica wit' no protection, no food, no nothin'."

Emil's blue eyes had darkened and widened in horror. "What?" he demanded, his voice hoarse.

"If dey found him guilty of de t'ings they said he did, an' if dose t'ings were serious enough, maybe dat's not such a harsh punishment." Theoren commented.

"True enough. Some of de t'ings we've done, would warrant such a punishment, if others were given de chance to try us." Mercy replied.

"What?" Emil exclaimed again, unable to believe what he was hearing. "What are you sayin'?"

Jean-Luc turned to his young nephew. "We're sayin' we're not gon' go save him."

Emil was in shock, but more than that, he was angry. He glared at his companions, his family, in disbelief. He got up and crossed the room, standing in front of Jean-Luc. Speaking quietly, he said,

"You rescued him from de Antiquary. You adopted him an' raised him as your own son. Den you turned him out of your fam'ly for de sake of dat fam'ly, somet'ing he prob'ly hasn' forgiven you for. Now you have a chance to make amends by goin' to Antarctica an' savin' him, an' you're not takin' it? Pourquoi, uncle? Why is dat?"

Jean-Luc sighed. "I can', Emil. It's not up to us to try'n save him. We can let 'im back in de Guild, b'cause we're de ones who excommunicated 'im. But we're not de ones who left 'im in Antarctica, so we can' bring 'im back."

Emil shook his head and went for the stairs. He needed to think. He paused at the bottom of the staircase and turned back to look at Jean-Luc an' the others. "You say you could let him back in de Guild if you wanted to? If I was him, I wouldn' accept de offer."

Hours later, Claude went up to see if Emil had cooled off any, an' discovered that the young man was nowhere to be found. The only explanation any of them could come up with was the idea that Emil had decided to take matters into his own hands. Without thinking first, of course. This was Emil after all.

Emil landed the helicopter and smiled to himself as he took off the headset. He had never flown a helicopter in his life, and, given the disastrous results he and Remy had had with the jet at the Air Show when they were children, he was fairly impressed with himself. Even more impressive was the fact that he had stolen the helicopter from the New Orleans International Airport without getting caught.

After he turned the helicopter off and climbed out, the first thing that caught Emil's attention was just how white everything was. The ground was white and the sky was white. He had a hard time, as he looked through his sunglasses, figuring out where the sky left off and the ground began.

The second thing that occurred to Emil was the coldness. He was wearing his Thieves Guild armor/uniform. The blue and white uniform was skin-tight and contained everything he needed as a thief. It was also not very warm. This was understandable considering Emil lived in Louisiana, where snow was pretty much a once-in-a-blue-moon kind of thing. Emil sighed and reached into the helicopter for his backpack.

Putting the pack on his back, he wished he'd stolen a wool hat from somewhere before he'd arrived in Antarctica. He sighed deeply and, clenching his white-gloved hands, started walking.

Forty-five minutes later, Emil stopped and took off his sunglasses, rubbing his eyes. They hurt from the whiteness of the barren land he was walking in, in spite of his glasses. His ears were burning too, so as he started walking again, trying to see through the snow blowing around him, he covered his ears with his hands to keep them somewhat warm. He didn't know how far he'd walked, but he hadn't been able to see the helicopter in awhile. He just hoped he'd be able to get back to it when the time came.

After Emil walked for another three hours, he dropped to his knees, shivering uncontrollably. "Dieu…it's so cold…" he whispered, his lips cracking. He could taste the blood on his lips and sighed. He was starting to realize that Antarctica was much bigger than it looked on the globe in Jean-Luc's office. He had walked for nearly four hours and there wasn't even a sign of Remy anywhere.

Emil sat in the snowy nothingness that was the Antarctic tundra, his backpack clutched in his arms. He was no longer angry with the rest of his family, but he was still very worried about Remy, and didn't want to give up his search. However, he had to face reality, because he was colder than he'd ever been in his life. The tears that ran down his cheeks in desperation and fear froze before he could wipe them away.

"I'm sorry Remy…" Emil whispered. He knew he had to go back, find the helicopter and go home. If he stayed there much longer, he'd end up dead too, and that wouldn't do a thing to help his cousin. He ate some of the food he'd packed and slung the pack on his back again; walking again, this time in the opposite direction he'd been walking before.

Before he started walking, he stood and looked up into the white, blustery sky. "Please God…wherever he is…get him out of dis alive…dat's all I ask…"

Many hours later, Emil saw the black and yellow helicopter in the distance through the blowing snow. Emil fell to his knees, laughing almost hysterically. He had been praying continuously since he got there, and he couldn't help but be thankful he'd managed to find his way back to the helicopter without getting lost or dying. Pulling himself together, he got up and ran, stumbling, the rest of the yards to the chopper.

He threw his backpack into the co-pilot's seat and got in, slamming the door shut. For a few moments, he just sat there, breathing and crying, trying to get warm. Then he focused on the controls in front of him and found what he was looking for. A way to turn on the heater.

After the helicopter started to warm up a bit, he looked at the fuel gauge. He wasn't sure how much fuel he needed to get back even remotely close to New Orleans, but that wasn't the main thought on his mind. It occurred to him that he could have spent some of the nearly ten hours he'd been walking in the snow flying in the helicopter around Antarctica looking for Remy. He would have covered a lot more ground, and maybe he would have achieved his goal.

Emil started crying again, hiding his face in his hands. He giggled absently through his tears when he noticed the icicles were still in his hair. Suddenly a voice came out of nowhere.

"You're hurtin' Chil'." Tante Mattie had used her projection powers to go to Antarctica and talk to him. She could tell, even though she wasn't there in person, that he was suffering from frostbite, exposure to the elements and exhaustion. "Come back home."

"Tante…but what 'bout Remy…I can' jus'…"

"He's okay, Emil. Don' you t'ink I'd know if he wasn'? You need to come home. Remy will be fine. Trust me."

Emil sighed. "I do, Tante Mattie. How mad are dey?"

"I t'ink right now dey're more worried 'bout you. Once you're safe an' sound an' back home where you b'long, dey might get angry, but I don' t'ink so. Dey jus' want you to be safe, an' so do I. So are you comin' home or do I have to try an' fly dat helicopter myself?"

"You're not even really here, what are you talkin' 'bout?" Emil exclaimed. "Oui, I'm comin' home…" he sighed again. "I'm jus'…I'm so…tired…can you stay…keep me…awake…?"

"My powers ain' what dey used to be, Chil', you know dat. Jus' dis little bit is drainin' me. But I'll stay wit' you as long as I can. Jean-Luc an' Theoren will contact you over de radio when you get closer, an' dey'll be dere when you land at home."

"Okay. Here goes nothin'…" Emil said as the helicopter gently lifted into the air. He headed north, hoping he wouldn't have to stop for fuel on the way back to Louisiana.

A few hours later…he wasn't sure just how long it took…Emil landed the helicopter in a field outside New Orleans. Tante Mattie hadn't been able to stay with Emil for the whole trip, but when he landed the chopper he saw she had kept her word. Jean-Luc and Theoren were waiting for him. He took his backpack and got out of the helicopter. Before he took two steps towards Jean-Luc and Theoren, he passed out, collapsing on the ground by the helicopter.

Theoren and Jean-Luc ran over to him. Jean-Luc put the pack on his back as Theoren looked at Emil.

"He passed out. Tante Mattie said he had frostbite…see, there?…and was suffering from exposure an' exhaustion. We have to get him home so she can take care of him."

Jean-Luc nodded. "Agreed. Aww…kid…what were you t'inking?"

Theoren grunted slightly as he picked up his young cousin. He raised his eyebrows at Jean-Luc. "He wasn' t'inking, Jean-Luc, dat's de problem. He never t'inks. Ever."

"Theo…let's jus' get him home so Mattie can get him better. Den we'll deal wit' de issue of him not t'inking. Okay?"

"Oui."

Tante Mattie refused to let anyone stay in the room while she took care of Emil. In fact, she wouldn't let any of the others near him until late the next day.

Around noon, Emil woke up, feeling groggy and disoriented. He licked his lips and swallowed painfully. "Mmph…Tante?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mattie appeared beside the bed he was on and smiled warmly at her patient. "I'm right here, Chil'. An' I won' let dem in until you're feelin' better."

"Are dey mad?" Emil asked again.

"Theoren is. Jean-Luc is jus' worried right now, I t'ink. De others…I don' know. A bit of both, I guess."

Emil thought for a second. "Let Jean-Luc in." he said.

Tante Mattie raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"Oui…"

Mattie left the room and a few moments later, the door opened again and Jean-Luc walked in, concern on his face. He pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down, taking Emil's hand in his own, squeezing it gently. "Hey…"

"I'm…sorry…" Emil whispered. "I didn' t'ink b'fore I acted…again…least I'm predictable."

Jean-Luc smiled. "We'll talk 'bout it later. An' I promise I won' let Theoren yell at you, much as I know he wants to. How are you feelin'?"

Emil sighed. "Sore an' tired, mostly."

"Well, you get some rest den. We gotta have you getting better soon. We still have dat Monopoly championship game to play…"

"Yeah…almost forgot 'bout dat…" Emil closed his eyes. He was so tired. All he really wanted to do was sleep. So that's what he did. He didn't even notice when Jean-Luc slipped out of the room, quietly closing the door to give his nephew some peace.