x_project | FIC: Operation: On The Swell 1/?

Posted on behalf of [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com], who is currently on vacation.

“Tell me about Michael.”

“Not much to tell, chere. Good operative, if a little idealistic.”

“Captain America?”

“Non, Just didn’t understand how things worked.” Remy paused and took a sip from his iced tea. In contrast, Ororo had a large pina colada with fruit and an umbrella and a dozen other garnishes in it. She’d decided to fit in wearing a skirt wrap over the tiniest bikini possible, once again making LeBeau choose between doing the job and hustling her off to the hotel room as soon as possible. They had been married nearly a year at the time, but they still acted like teenagers half the time.

“Hmmm.” Ororo took a contemplative sip. “And how do they work?”

“It’s like dat movie. Dere’s a dark side and a light side in de CIA. De light side goes grey enough dat dey thought keeping de real monsters under wraps was de best idea. Dat’s why he knows me as Remy and not Gambit.”

“It was complicated.” Ororo drew out her straw and scrutinized the end. “This is what it will be from not on, isn’t it? Complicated relationships?”

“Remy didn’t mean-“

“Hush, mpenzi, I was just asking.” She tossed the straw aside and took a swig. “Do you think he’ll have the information on Syn?”

“She was in Miami, and Michael has sticky fingers in de intelligence section.”

“Do you trust him?”

“I trust him to act like himself.” Remy said, faux-cryptically as he took another sip. His queer eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, but he was scanning the foot traffic automatically. “Which means he’ll do his best to have ears on everything dat comes through. De real question is why he got burned in de first place. Doug wasn’t able to get into de burn notice itself. Maybe he’s gone rogue.”

“I trust we can keep ourselves safe.” Ororo smiled as a slight rumble of thunder stretched across a cloudless sky. She plucked a cherry off the garnish. “These are very nice. We need to operate in Miami more often.”

“Remy tell de international community to focus here more.” Remy looked around. “In many ways, it’s a perfect locale. Lots of tourists coming and going, deep immigrant base, major shipping nexus, easy access to weapons and trained guards, and no one looks twice at a heavily fortified compound in de middle of de city.”

“A perfect mix. Shame that we’re not just here for the beach.”

“Wit’ you turning heads, we-“ Remy suddenly paused and turned in his chair, waving. “Bonjour,
Michael!”

The dark haired man who had been quietly slipping up behind Remy paused, and then smiled. “Hey!
Didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“You didn’t. You won’t.” Remy stood up an shook his hand. “Long time.”

“Algeria, last time.”

“Told you dat Assen was connected.” He waved him to a seat. “Ororo, dis is Michael Weston. A former co-worker.”

Ororo’s dazzling white smile never quite met her eyes. “Hello Michael. Did your friend in the car want to join us? The lovely red-head?”

“Oh, Fi. ‘Course.” He said ruefully, and turned back towards a parked car that Remy hadn’t seen slip in, but Ororo had. “Come and get a drink, Fionna.” He stopped and shook his head. “No, leave it there. It’s not polite to come armed.”