Eloi

Eloi Chapter Sixty One
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *sends more Tims* *in leather * InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. :) ProPhile: *sticks new badge on chest* There. Now you’re *odd symbol* formerly known as ProPhile. ;) Morgan: *glomp * Readers/Reviewers: Thank you SO much for reading/reviewing and all the kind wishes over the weekend! :)

Callisto closed her eye, blocking out what little light was seeping through the cell door. She would not be here long, she knew. One way or the other, they would be out soon. Her hands felt sticky with blood and she knew it would be under her nails, if she chose to look. She had never killed before, not like that early morning. She had never realized, she admitted to herself, how much she was hated. How much she hated. Shifting slightly on the hard bench, she heard the females around her murmuring and crying, some sobbing. She stretched her legs and opened her eye. “Be quiet. You are disgracing Morlocks.” Someone cursed softly but after a minute or two, silence fell. Bayville was not equipped to hold so many in it’s small jail cells; they were crowded in, over a dozen to a cell. She could only imagine how crowded the men’s cells were. The children, she thought with a shred of thanks, had stayed below. So had many of the adults. Not everyone was a fighter, she thought bitterly. Not everyone could be a protector.
“Hey! One-Eye!”
Callisto stood, her mouth curved into lines of disgust. She did not reply to the officer sauntering towards her cell but she did not ignore her.
“Looks like you’re getting bail… you know how much someone’s going to pay for your ugly hide?” When Callisto did not respond, the coppery red head continued. “Six million bucks!”
Callisto raised a brow. Pressing closer to the thick metal bars, she looked past the officer to see if she could discern her benefactor in the shadows of the admitting desk. “Worth every penny” she murmured. Her benefactor was still in shadows but she felt oddly elated as she realized who it was. “What time is it?”
“Nine a.m.,” the officer replied, slightly deflated from the lack of reaction.
Callisto smiled, a razor-glint of teeth in dim light, before pushing away from the bars. “Wake up,” she said tersely, turning to face the other women in the cell with her. “We’re going to a meeting.”

“Chere, stop walkin’! Lemme say dis…”
Jubilee winced. So far, she had managed to avoid being alone with Remy but now, at nine in the morning and running on little if any sleep, her teammates were falling back and leaving her, with her sugar-fueled energy rush, alone with the Cajun who never seemed to need rest. “Remy, now’s not the time for one of our talks, okay? We’ll talk later. Right now, we have things to do!”
Remy sighed. “P’tite, lookit… what I gotta say ain’t gonna take long.” He reached out with one long arm and grabbed her elbow as she tried to hurry onward. Jubilee gasped slightly as he pulled her gently backwards. “C’mon, jus’ a minute…”
Jubilee kept her head bent, the marks on her neck seeming to burn like fire. “Remy.” The simple name held a world of meaning, her tone conveying sadness, confusion and even anger as he held fast to her arm. “Let me go.”
He flexed his fingers slowly. Even his astute awareness could not discern in what sense she meant for him to release her. “Chere, we gotta work on us, ya know? Mebbe… you don’ wanna be wid me like before mais…” he let out a long sigh and dropped his hand from her arm. “Je t’aime pour toujours.”
“Remy,” she replied tersely, “now is NOT the time for romantic words.” She tipped her chin defiantly, glaring at him. “I have work to do and so do you.” She knew she had made a mistake as Remy’s eyes grew cold. Her fingers flew to her neck and she gasped his name, her face flooding in embarrassment.
“So I see,” he said calmly. “You best get started for de line grows, eh?”
“Remy!” she snapped, anger replacing embarrassment. “You don’t fucking call me a slut!”
“I didn’t,” he retorted. “Mais seem you don’ even wait for de sheets to cool, cherie.” He spun away from her, his coat swirling about his knees. “Au revoir, chere.”
Jubilee watched, lips parted, as Remy strode away from her and back towards the mansion. Morning sunlight did nothing to replace the chill in her veins as she watched him move away from her. She wanted to call out to him but could not. She did not know what stopped her but his name refused to leave her throat. Her neck burned where Kurt had marked her and her eyes pricked with tears. Damn it, it was just sex! It didn’t mean anything and I know sure as Hell that Remy wouldn’t feel this bad if it were him in my place and Kitty in Kurt’s! She scrubbed at her eyes with her fingers, dashing away any trace of tears. “Fuck him,” she growled. “Fuck him and the fucking horse he fucking rode in on!”
“Jubilee!”
She turned in the direction of Rahne’s voice. They had been sent to make a second sweep of the grounds—something she suspected was mainly to keep them busy rather than provide any safety measures—and now they were just about done. “What?”
Rahne jogged to a halt near her and frowned. “You okay? Remy just stomped past mad as a wet rooster an’ here you are, teary eyed…”
“Allergies,” she lied transparently. “What’s up?”
“We’ve got guests to tend to,” she said, raising a brow. “Lots of them!”

“What the Hell…”
“Company,” Scott muttered blearily, barely glancing at St John. “Looks like today’s going to be a long day…”