The first thing Remy was aware of when he woke was the quiet. No sounds of traffic invaded the room, not even the softer noises of another person or the hum of machinery.

Sunlight filtered in around the edges of drawn curtains, illuminating a room almost as barren as your average hotel room, but much cleaner.

He was on a bed, a quilt spread over him, his coat and one boot still on.

Feeling apprehensive, he turned his attention to the other foot. Unwrapping the ace bandage, Remy found the flesh beneath it discolored and puffy, swollen to the size of a cantaloupe.

"Merde," he swore. "Not gettin' far like dis."

Looking around the room again he noticed a pair of crutches leaning against the wall beside the bed. A pile of clothes and toiletries sat on a chair in the corner, a tape recorder on top of the pile.

Sitting on the edge of the bed Remy grabbed the tape recorder and pressed play.

"I wasn't sure if you could read, so I taped this," a woman's voice said causing Remy to grit his teeth in irritation. "Anyway, when you wake up Professor Xavier wants to talk to you. There's a shower just down the hall, that is a hint by the way. When you're ready just give a shout, one of the telepaths will hear you and send someone up to get you."

Remy considered charging the recorder to let the speaker know what he thought of her, then glancing at his injured foot he reconsidered. "Best be nice, Remy," he told himself. "Least 'til yo' can run."

A few minutes later, after fighting with crutches and an arm full of stuff, Remy sighed happily as the warm water from the shower cascaded over him. He'd long since decided that one of the things he liked best about the girls who he charmed into inviting him back to their hotel rooms was the showers. It had been weeks since he'd had the opportunity to do anything but run and the patina of grime on his skin was becoming truly unpleasant, bad enough to easily overwhelm his first impulse, which was to not follow every single instruction on the tape.

Afterwards Remy sat frowning at the clothes that had been left for him. "What dey t'ink dis is, Halloween?"

Still they were an improvement over the hospital gown, Remy decided, putting his trench coat on over them. He was glad he'd been coherent enough to grab it before his escape attempt, even if he wished he'd thought to put on the rest of his clothes.

After inspecting the room more closely Remy up-ended both chairs and unscrewed the coaster feet, depositing them and the knobs off the dresser in various pockets. Not as good as his cards, he decided, but they'd serve in a pinch.

That done, he grabbed the crutches and headed downstairs. "Find someone de old fashion way," he muttered. "Don' need no 'paths muckin' around my head."

"You should have called," a sharp voiced young woman with cropped red-hair announced meeting him half way down the staircase. "We have an elevator, it would have been easier."

Remy compared her voice to the one from the tape. It wasn't the same, that would help with his resolve to get on these people's good side.

"Je' desole," he said smiling. "Didn' know m' escort be so lovely."

Jean rolled her eyes. "Is there is anyone we should call? Parents, a guardian?"

"De only ones who care if I be alive or dead would prefer de later," Remy replied.

"I thought the guys after you wanted you alive," Jean commented as she reached out telepathically to scan him. Like Xavier before her, she found his thoughts impossible to grasp, but in her case forewarned was forearmed and she had a theory she was looking forward to trying. Keeping her approach casual she formed a bubble around the will-o-whisp form that marked Remy's existence in the astral plain before trying to examine his mind.

Jean was so focused on her objective she totally missed Remy's expression shifting from flirtatious to angry until his irritation hit her mind like a sharp slap. "Ain't none of yo' got no manners?" he snapped. "Dis be my head, my thoughts. Private, d'accord?"

"Let's go, the Professor is waiting in the library," Jean said stiffly, withdrawing her mental probe.

"Remy, I'm glad you chose to join us," Xavier greeted him as Jean departed.

"Not as if I had much choice in de matter," Remy pointed out.

"No, I suppose not, but since you seem to be struck with us for the moment, you might as well make the best of it and find out what we can offer," Xavier replied.

"In return for what?" Remy asked.

"I simply wish to educate young mutants, teach them to use their abilities responsibly," Xavier said reassuringly. "There is no charge, nothing expected of you except that you do your best."

Despite the Professor's effort Remy was anything but reassured. "Why you do dis? What you get out of it?" he demanded.

"Nothing less than the betterment of society and hope for the future," Xavier replied.

"What de hell does dat mean in real terms?" Remy asked skeptically.

"He gets to prove a point, kid," Logan said standing in the doorway. "He wrote a book 'bout mutants taking a place in society and we're the proof that the stuff he talked about is more than just pipedreams. How far have you gone to prove yerself right about something?"

A momentary grin lit the boy's face. "Mebbe a bit further dan was smart a time or two," he admitted. "So what I gotta do to prove dis point of his?"

"Nothing too bad, get yourself educated, play superhero every now and then," Logan replied with a shrug. "I hear the exams are a pain but stickin' it to the bad guys has its charms."

"Can't argue wid dat mon ami," Remy replied. "Ain't like I'm goin' no where anyway. If dat be all Professor, can I go get lunch?"

"Of course Remy, make yourself at home," Xavier answered. Telepathically he spoke with Logan. "You appear to have a knack for dealing with our newest student."

Logan waited until Remy had left then said. "You're getting delusional Chuck. Kid's going to rabbit as soon as he can walk."

"At least we've got that long."

Scott met Remy before he'd made it half way down the hall.

"Normally I'd offer a tour of the school about now, but having spent some time on crutches myself, I doubt you're in the mood for a lot of walking, so we'll move straight on to lunch. Food wise we all help out. Logan takes care of breakfast when he's here. If you don't like eggs and bacon you're out of luck. Lunch is everybody for themselves. The rest of us take turns handling dinner. It's at seven; tonight is Ororo's night, which makes it a good idea to be on time. She and Peter are our best cooks. I do plain but editable. Hank thinks of the kitchen as an extension of the lab, his experiments are hit or miss. And don't say I said this, but if Jean makes anything other than chef salad, don't be hungry."

"Merci for de warnin'," Remy said spotting a deck of cards as they passed through the living room. Faining difficulty with his crutches he quietly slipped the cards into his coat.

"Just remember, I didn't say it. Officially I love Jean's cooking. With her being a telepath I'm sure she knows better, but I think she appreciates the effort. We'll put you at the end of the rotation. By the time your turn comes up you should be healthy again. Someone'll get groceries on every Saturday, so if there's anything you want, just add it to the list on the refrigerator," Scott rattled on cheerfully. "Right now we've got a choice between peanut butter and jelly or cold cuts."

Remy let Scott direct him toward the table then watched in bemusement as the other boy began dragging a wide array of sandwich- makings to the table. "Who's going to eat all this?" Remy asked as Scott kept setting out more and more stuff.

"Us, we've both got energy conversion type mutations, which generally means a really high metabolism, besides which we're teenage boys, we've got an image to keep up," Scott replied.

Remy shook his head and laughed then his expression turned withdrawn.

"Don' relax," he thought to himself. "Yo' know bettah. So what if day save yo', dat only mean's you're in dere debt. So what if dey feel right, yo' instincts 'bout people been wrong before."

But this place, the people, did have a good sense to them. Not the absence of a bad aurora that he'd once mistaken for goodness and there were so many of them. They couldn't all be insane like Richard. Remy firmly pushed the ugly memories that accompanied thoughts about his misjudgments of both Essex and Richard back into their box where he didn't have to deal with them. They'd served their purpose of keeping him wary.

Still, after months of living in constant and immediate fear for his life, Remy was tired in his soul as well as his body. He wanted to believe he was safe, that he could finally relax his guard, so badly. But he knew better, ignorance wasn't an excuse anymore, there was no safety. Only it would be so easy to slip in this place, not so much with the telepaths who pried where they weren't wanted, but with Scott, who seemed like nothing more than another kid, awkward, talking too much, trying too hard to fill every silence. It reminded him of a past almost forgotten, and he'd met Logan's type before. They didn't bother with a front, if he acted friendly chances were, he meant it. Still, out here in an isolated residence, injured and surrounded by people with powers of their own, Remy was frighteningly close to being at their mercy, and yet he wanted to believe in their good intensions. He wondered what was wrong with him. Could he really be that worn, that lonely, or was it the 'paths playing tricks with his head?

Vigilance restored, Remy's attention returned to Scott, only to find the older boy engrossed in making lunch. Remy quickly joined him in putting sandwiches together and grabbing chips.

After his second helping Scott's mood turned sober, even though he was trying to cover it with casualness. Remy sensed the change and paused to watch the other suspiciously.

"We didn't get a chance to ask before, with you being unconscious and all," Scott began. "But why were those guys after you anyway? From what I heard they want you pretty bad. Don't worry, our plane has cloaking capabilities, they couldn't track us, but we need to know if there's a new group hunting mutants."

Remy paused fiddling with his glass, buying time. He wanted to deny everything, but maybe, maybe they could help. They certainly couldn't be any worse than Sinister. Maybe this was a chance to make up for his mistake.

"Don' know 'xactly," Remy said finally. "Dey been chasin' me for a while. I hear stuff 'bout dem. De mutants dey take don' come back. Dey got a boss, 'eard 'em call him Essex or Sinister, bad as dey are, he scares 'em."

"And what about them?" Cyclops asked, the eighteen year-old Scott totally disappearing behind the X-men's field commander.

"Dey call themselves de Marauders; Scalphunter, he leads, good wid guns and such. Vertigo, mais her name say it all. Arclight be strong, can shake t'ings apart. Harpooner, his power be like mine, he makes t'ings explode. And lately dere been a new guy, t'ink dey call him Scrambler, don' know what he does, 'cept shriek like a bebe when I deal my cahds to him."

"You know quite a bit about them," Cyclops began.

"I was motivated, 'kay?" Remy snapped defensively.

"I was just going to ask if you had any clue about what happens to the mutants they take," Cyclops said frowning.

"Rien, mais yo' t'ink it be for dere health?" Remy replied sarcastically.

"No," Cyclops said darkly and even though he's set up Scott's response Remy flinched, a look of shame crossing his face, he hadn't come to that realization so quickly.

"Remy knows more about these Marauders and Sinister then he's letting on," Scott said.

"I think we should lock him up," Jean volunteered.

"He's Bobby's age," Peter protested.

"So were half of Weapon X's operatives," Jean replied. "Neither the Professor or I can read him, we've never even seen mental shields like his before. Not every assassin who shows up here is going to convert. We got lucky with Wolverine, we need to take precautions."

"If we attempt to restrain Remy, we'll loose all chance to reach him," Xavier put in.

"You try to make him a prisoner ya better be ready to kill him," Logan said. "Scotty's right, he's hiding things, but the night we found him, that was stripped to the bone truth. He woulda died before letting himself be taken captive."

"Storm, Beast you've both been very quiet tonight," Xavier said.

"I disliked Remy from the moment he first opened his mouth," Ororo said. "But I don't think he's anything more than he appears to be: a disrespectful, smart-mouthed street rat who got in over his head."

"Ain't you the one who was stealing cars a year ago?" Logan asked.

"When the Professor and I first found him we offered to help him and he suggested this was some sort of prostitution ring," Ororo said, outraged.

"You got any idea what the last person he accepted help from might of done?" Logan growled. "Kid probably has reason to be suspicious."

"Hank?" Xavier asked.

"I've seen Remy conscious for all of five minutes Professor, what do you expect me to add to this discussion," Hank said.

"I don't want to lock him up," Scott said. "I don't think we have the right to do that."

"I agree with Scott," Peter said. "He seems like an okay kid. Even if he was sent here to infiltrate us I think we can get him to change sides."

"Precisely," Xavier said. "Spend time with Remy, convince him of our cause."

"And keep an eye on him at the same time," Jean added.

"What about this Sinister?" Scott asked.

"I am searching for any trace of his operation," Xavier replied. "But he appears very well hidden."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," Wolverine said. "His goons hounded the kid from one side of the country to the other, they'll come to us eventually."

"If that's really what happened," Jean said.