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Part 20
Emma was searching the grounds with Cerebra, but could find no trace of Gambit. She asked Scott to go out to check for him visually. Hearing the empathic cry for help Peter came with everyone else to Emma, asking what the hell that was.
"Everyone calm down!! We need to mount a search party to see if Gambit is still here. If he's not, then we need to widen our search. Shadowcat, did you find anything on the scanners?"
Kitty looked at Emma and said, "There was a major energetic and gravitational burst out in the forest just before it happened," she said. The alarms had gone off and she had been looking to figure it out, but then she felt that shout of panic and everything was gone.
Heart rate picking up, Peter tore out of the house. He could hear Beast going up in the Blackbird, hell bent on finding their friend, although Peter thought he knew what happened to him.
Emma was heading the search beyond the grounds, since it didn't seem like a shout of death-- that would have been much more painful.
Heart beating fast in his armored form, Peter contacted Emma. **We have searched everywhere, he is not here.** and we're wasting time looking when we all know he isn't here!! he groused privately.
Sending a mental shout out to Emma, Scott asked her to please come see him; he needed her there. Emma went to him as soon as she received his call. She had been down in Cerebra searching for Remy’s mental signature.
**Yes, love?**
Looking up at her, Scott was really smitten with her. She was beautiful. “Have a seat. I won't insult you by suggesting you don't know who has him, so here's the point... We need to find someone who knows where Sinister is hiding.”
"In Remy's reports of him, he moves constantly. How would we find any of his bases?" she asked.
Raising his eyebrows at her, Scott was shocked she hadn’t figured it out yet. “One of his lackeys, lover.”
"Most of them are clones... except—"
Nodding, Scott said, “Find Logan.”
Emma nodded and went down to Cerebra to call Logan. **Logan!** she shouted at him when she found his mental signature.
Logan started. He had been scrubbing the last toilet, and he looked up. “Emma?” Realizing he said it out loud, Logan said it in his head, again. *Emma?*
**Logan, Remy's been kidnapped by Sinister. We need Creed to figure out where he might be. We'll send a jet for you both.**
Stomach lurching, Logan was glad there was a toilet right there and took a half second to get his bearings back before racing up to the kitchens. “Creed!! C'mon, get ready, we gotta go...”
"Go? Where?" he asked perplexed. They were in the middle of the friggin’ ocean.
“Back ta Westchester, c'mon! They're sendin' a jet.” Going down to the hull Logan grabbed his only bit of luggage: Remy's sword.
"What the hell...?" Somethin' big must be goin' on, he said to himself as he wiped off his hands. He told the cook that he'd be leaving and he was wished luck.
About to go tearing up the stairs, Logan remembered.... “Awe, hell....” Lifting his nose to the air, he followed the scent until he found Mark. “Hey, kid....”
"...Hey...." he said tentatively.
“Look, I don't got much time, but you gotta answer me honestly, ok? You happy here on this ship? Izzit what you wanna do with yer life?” Mark swallowed and shook his head. Swallowing, Logan extended his hand. “You wanna come with us, then?”
Mark reached out his shaking hand, but didn't feel the fear he expected to and clasped it firmly. He nodded. Grinning, Logan pulled him securely under his arm and walked with him to the deck of the ship, expecting the Blackbird to drop down any second.
Hank piloted the Blackbird, hating flying over water, but found the tiny speck of a ship and dove toward it, ready to do an in-air pickup. Looking back over his shoulder at Rogue, he asked, “Ready?”
Rogue nodded and started opening the ramp. Hair getting whipped all around beneath the jet, Logan looked over at Mark and hollered so he could hear. “You ain't afraid a heights, are ya??” Mark shook his head. Victor met them on the deck and looked oddly at Mark with him.
"What's with the kid?" he asked.
The jet was approaching and settled into VTO mode and hovered above the ship.
“He's comin' with us...” he said and looked up. Seeing Rogue fly out of the hatch, Logan reached up to take her hand.
"What?? No way!!" he objected. Rogue took hold of Logan's hand and Logan still having hold of Mark, hauled them both up into the jet. Arm locked tight around Mark's waist, Logan kept him pressed securely to his chest... and thought how he loved flying. He was quite envious of the fliers.
Growling Victor leapt up onto the jet after the two of them. Hair is a real mess now, Logan growled at Creed when the hatch closed. “Showoff.”
"Shuddup. What the hell, Logan! You can't just take a novice on a mission!"
Rolling his eyes at him, Logan said, “He isn't goin’ on the mission!! Fuck's sake, Creed, what sorta idiot you think I am!? He's goin' straight to the mansion!”
Getting a sight of the boy they brought back, Hank was startled for a moment, wondering if they found Remy's long lost brother or something.
Huffing Victor looked at Mark. He nodded and sighed. Rogue was staring at him too. "What the heck...?" Rogue asked in a shocked voice now that she got a good look at him. "No... Remy?" she asked and reached out to him.
Mark was a little taken aback and let her touch him with her gloved fingers. "No... my name's Mark," he said.
“Not related... That we know of...” Logan supplied and went to the back of the jet, sitting down and buckling in out of habit.
"Oh..." Rogue drew her hand back and went to the front to go see Hank.
Blinking, Hank leaned over to Rogue, asking, “Some relation of Remy's?” because he looks just like him... can Sinister work that fast?
"Logan says they're not, but... just lookin' at 'im makes ya think.... Remy never knew who his family was...." Rogue shrugged. "Ah guess we can do tests when we get back ta the mansion with Remy, right?"
Giving her a knowing glance Hank stayed quiet. “I'll see what I can do.” Rogue nodded and tried to keep her eyes on the sky in front of them as Hank steered them around, headed back toward New York.
Leaning back in his chair, nervous, Logan looked across at Creed. He hadn't told him what the mission was about yet. Noticing Mark was a little spooked as well, he put a hand on his elbow. “Yer gonna be all right, kiddo.”
Mark looked over at Logan and nodded, trying to force a smile onto his face. "I'll be fine, Logan. I feel a little weird the way everyone's looking at me, but I'm fine." He was a little nervous, but he wasn't going to admit that to Logan.
Settling down next to Logan, Victor leaned back casually. "So... gonna tell me what this is all about?"
Turning to him, but leaving hand on Mark's elbow, Logan said, “Remy, Creed...” He couldn’t look at him. “It's about Remy... Sinister's got him...”
Victor's eyebrows shot up. That was why he didn't see the kid on the jet with them. He was at a loss for what to say. He didn't want to be a complete jerk, so he said, "We'll get 'im back, Logan," encouragingly putting a hand on Logan’s shoulder.
Sighing, Logan had a sudden fear that maybe Creed wouldn’t help... at least not completely... so he could see to it that Remy wasn't competition any longer.
Mark finally settled down on the other side of Logan. "So... Remy's in trouble?" he asked worriedly.
Keeping his response short so he didn’t get overly emotional, Logan said, “Yeah.”
"What... what is he like?" he asked to either Victor or Logan.
Taking his hand away to light a cigar, Logan didn’t want to say anything, since saying 'he's the soul of perfection' in front of Creed just wouldn't be nice. He went a bit tense at what Creed might say. "Kid's a southerner," Victor said as Logan didn't speak.
"He have any... powers? Like you?" he asked.
Exhaling through his nose, Logan said, “Kinetic charge. He blows shit up.”
Blinking Mark straightened up. "Really?"
"Yeah. He's pretty good at it, too," Victor added. He'd been on the receiving end of his charge more than enough times to know. He really felt like calling him a thief in front of Mark, but he didn't think Logan would like that too much. He sighed and sat back, looking away from Mark. Gods, he looked just like that little bratt.
Raising his eyes at Creed, Logan grinned a little around his cigar. He could hear Hank coughing pointedly up front and put it out. Hoping that he had earned some points, Victor shut up for the rest of the trip to the mansion.
Remy woke up feeling really groggy. He felt... cold. He shivered and tried to orient himself. Where the hell was he? It looked like he was strapped to one of those metal slabs, bound with adamantium and power inhibitors, sensors stuck all over his body.
Sitting in front of the monitors across from him, Sinister was puzzling over how this all happened.
Merde!!!! he shouted to himself and struggled in his bonds, testing them. He remembered the tesseract and looked over at Sinister. "What de hell do you want?" he growled.
Watching Remy’s vitals, Sinister swiveled in his chair to look at him and said cruelly, “You've been sexually frustrated, filled to the brim with energy, broken hearted and had that damned little gland fixed, haven’t you, Le Beau?”
"What...? How did you know all dat?" he asked... pretty afraid if he was keeping tabs on him again.
Gesturing casually, he said, “It's all right here.” Rising, he put a hand on Remy’s bare tummy. “And right here.” Eyeing him with those creepy red diamond eyes, he said, “How did you do it?”
"I... I ain' gonna tell y' shit, Sinister!" He wasn't going to betray Warren if Sinister didn't already know the man could heal others. He felt that he had betrayed Warren too much already. He would die first.
Grinning thinly, Sinister said, “I assure you, it was merely a courtesy to ask. At least his second mutation has made Warren a little less expendable than he was before.” Noticing Remy’s heart rate speeding up, if only slightly, Sinister raised an eyebrow at him. “If you think I have any interest in that winged waste of flesh, you're quite mistaken.”
Remy sighed—relieved. "What's got y' interested in me, anyway? Y' never were before..."
Not that you knew of, you silly boy. “I'm sure you can figure that out, if you think hard enough.” He switched topics. “Now, if you'd be so kind as to explain why Sabertooth has spent so much time at your mansion, I'd be most obliged.” He retrieved a syringe, and started readying Remy’s arm to draw blood.
Remy cringed and looked away from the syringe. He hated needles! "Like I would know what goes on in dat messed up head of his!" Like Sinister would grant him fulfillment of any obligation, anyway.
“Don't lie to me, Remy. When you lie, the possibility of my slipping and tearing an enormous gash in your arm increases.” He smiled sickly at him; he obviously didn’t smile much, if he ever smiled sincerely once. Taking Remy’s arm Sinister exposed the underside to find his veins.
"Dat jus' means I won' have ta lie here on y' table any more. G'head," he said. If he died, that was better than being there... almost. He would miss Logan terribly, but betraying him... again... he couldn't do it! If Sinister didn't want him dead, it would just mean pain for him... that's all. He braced himself for it.
Smirking at him, Sinister slipped the needle in so painlessly, he probably couldn’t even feel it, and drew his blood removing the needle just as gently. “Very noble, Le Beau. Xavier would be proud.” He turned away, retrieving a test tube.
God, I hate you!!
Still fiddling about with Remy’s blood, Sinister was going to run some tests on it. “I've been watching you quite closely, Le Beau... You haven't been taking care of yourself since your recent... adjustment.”
"Why de fuck do you care??!" he shouted.
Returning to him, Sinister said, “You're important to me, Remy.” He gave an awkward little smile. “Don't you know?”
Remy started struggling in his bonds again. "No, I don't!" I don' wanna know what you got planned f' me if I'm important to y'! Look what it got Scott!
Watching him struggle, Sinister said, “It's no use, Remy.” He put a cold, silver hand on his bare arm. “You'll only aggravate your condition. You're grossly underfed and poorly rested.” Leaning down over him, he said, “Your X-friends will find you. I have hidden my tracks poorly enough that even your pathetic band could track their way here.”
"Wha—why??" he asked horrified. He was so confused and he shivered at Sinister's cold hand. Why was he interested in the X-Men? Why was he interested in Remy? He shook his head and tried to pull himself together. He needed to start getting Sinister to tell him things. "What do y' wan' wit' me?" he asked. He may not want to know... but he needed to.
“Did I not already tell you you're going home? I won't fight your X-Men. As soon as they arrive, they can have you... So in the interim, just try to relax.” He was grinning again in that very, very awkward way for him.
"Letting me... why? What de hell do you want??" What was Sinister planning on doing to him? Was he going to make him a ticking time bomb for the X-Men? Remy shuddered at the idea. Remy didn't listen and started struggling again, making his bonds cut into his skin, he was struggling so hard.
Letting his hands trail over Remy’s body, to the straps that held him in place, he said, “If you don't know what I want with you, you aren't the empath your readings suggest.” He neglected to mention that he came up as flat lining on most empathic scales. “Stop struggling, Le Beau.” Starting to release him from his bonds, Sinister said, “You have free reign of my laboratory.” Getting him completely free, Sinister expected him to make a dash for the door. “But I feel I should warn you we are in the heart of Antarctica and for thousands upon thousands of miles there is nothing but bitter cold and blinding snow.”
Remy froze in his bonds as if the snow had already reached him. He couldn't leave!!!! Why did he have to bring him here, of all places on the globe??? Remy started trembling instead and forgot to point out how idiotic Sinister was for telling him he wasn't much of an empath when he had power restraints on him. Wait.... Remy finally got his mind around what Sinister had been saying. He implied that he had... feelings? His fingers were caressing him... not prodding like he expected from the doctor. What the hell was going on?
Once the bonds were released, Remy was off the table and out the door, but he ran to hide... not to flee.
Returning to him with a silk robe, Sinister eyed him hiding in his little corner. “Wear this. And do stop shivering and hiding like a beaten puppy. I've kept my compound an inferno for you, and you will not be harmed.”
"Quit actin' creepy!" he said grabbing the robe from his hands and standing up in the hallway corner. He didn't recognize the layout of the lab, but what else was new? He stuck on the robe and started to get curious about what he had commented on... his empathy.
This was a trick! Sinister wanted him to open his shields so he could enter his head and mess with him... but if that were the case, why didn't he do it when he was powerless...?
Lowering his hands to his side, Sinister’s voice was steady. “I would like to turn your inhibitors off, Remy. I can only ask for your word that you will not blow my compound to ashes.” And I trust you're not stupid enough to destroy the only thing that's keeping you warm.
Remy ground his teeth. "I can' do dat," he bit out. He would destroy this complex the first chance he got... even if it did mean that he would possibly kill himself... or freeze out in the snow. He had his healing factor, so it would be very hard for him to die, but he would still hate it.
Narrowing his eyes, Sinister hissed, “Don't be stupid, Le Beau! You are ensured safe return to your precious X-Men! You are ensured comfort and good treatment until they get here! I also swear that I have no further interest in your little clan!” God, help me, I think I may have grown a heart.
"No further... what are you on??" There was no way he was going to trust Sinister again. Not after he already lied to him about the Morlocks. Remy wondered at why Sinister would want him to have his powers back...? This must be a trick!
Not liking the way this as turning out, Sinister spun on his heel and marched away from him. He was going to leave him alone if he was going to be so bothersome. Going into his chambers Sinister removed his cloak and gave himself a hard look in the mirror wondering if he was really as awful as all that... Goddamn emotions.
Knowing he looked different from when Remy last saw him: he now had long hair, braided at his temples and facial hair that covered his silver skin... he surely looked more human than he used to, especially dressed in civilian clothes.
Remy searched for his uniform. He didn't find them and wondered where the heck his clothes could have gotten off to. Since Sinister said that he had free reign of his lab, Remy went searching farther through the complex trying to find them. He ignored anything he might have found, though his fingers were itching to blow things up, even without his powers active.
Deciding to not bother him, no matter how much he wanted to let Remy’s new powers free and scream to him 'look at me!!' Sinister knew Remy must be starving, but sat alone in the enormous dining room, food fresh and steaming, hoping it lured him out. Remy had gone through every door he could find in the place and finally opened one that looked like it led into... a dining room? He smelled the food instantly and distrusted it as soon as he smelled how good it probably was. He stepped in and looked around. He saw Sinister at the head of the table and flinched at how human... and not quite human he looked.
Lifting his eyes to him, Sinister nodded to a second place setting with another plate full of food, afraid that if he said anything, it would scare him off and the X-Men would arrive before he got a chance to interact with Remy further.
Stomach growling, Remy stood frozen in the doorway, unsure of what to do. Slowly, he stepped over to the table. Sinister was eating!!!! Remy's jaw dropped. "How are you...?" eating? he finished silently. Sinister didn't need to eat. Didn't need to sleep, didn't need to sit, or smile... what was this? Why was he doing it, was a better way to phrase the question, but he didn't bother rephrasing.
“Well? Are you going to stand there all night? Your staring is ruining my appetite.” But not my sexual appetite, really.
Remy did feel pretty hungry. Sinister was right about one thing—he hadn't been eating. Without his powers though, he could eat without fear. He looked at Sinister hard and asked, "Why do y' wan' me t' have m' powers?" he asked. He could tell in the way he offered to take off his power suppression devices that he wanted him to.
Letting his eyes slip from Remy’s and trail down his chest for a moment, he explained, “As your host it is my duty to see that you are as comfortable as possible....” Feeling rather, well… shy, about exposing himself to Remy now, Sinister’s comment was vague.
"Bullshit," he called. "Tell me!"
Smiling eerily again, Sinister said, “After you eat. If I were to tell you on an empty stomach, you might just fall over.”
Remy thought about that. He thought about it. Sinister didn't need to trick him into eating something poisonous or laced with anything—he could have given him any drug he wanted to before he woke. Remy gingerly sat and looked at the plate. It did look really good and really warm.... Feeling very awkward about it, he picked up his fork and ate. He tried not to think about how good it was, but he hadn't eaten in so long.
Finishing before Remy, Sinister sat in silence, like a silver statue, to wait for him to finish. The last thing he had wasn't very filling; he had been keeping himself just above empty for a reason. "Y' know dat... I can' control m' powers very well. I might... blow somethin' up on accident," he said, unsure of what he was trying to say. Remy only finished half his plate.
“I know all that I need to. You will not lose control, here.” He had precautions against that. Rising when he looked finished, Sinister strode out. “Follow me.” He didn’t wait for him to catch up. Watched Sinister leaving, Remy was perplexed and got up to follow him before he lost him. Getting to his chambers, Sinister flung the doors open wide. He had a luxurious room, obviously meant to house someone used to the best. Remy stopped when he saw the room... uncertain of what he had expected... but not this! He stepped in and looked at Sinister.
"Why do y' wan' me t' have m' powers, Essex?" he asked again, hoping that 'Essex' would soften him up.
Talking in his smooth, rich voice, Sinister opened a chest and began to rummage through it. “Long ago, I lost my wife and child in a bizarre accident caused by one of my experiments. The pain of their loss and the guilt that accompanied it was far too much for me to bear. From then on, I sought to destroy anything inside me that was weak... Sorrow, guilt, shame, despair... And in destroying them... I managed to destroy everything else. I sought to become a being of pure physicality, having no existence beyond my atoms.” Finding what he was looking for in the chest, Sinister held it out for Remy to see. “These were the last words my wife had ever written... They were lost in an old book of hers and only recently did I find this.” It was an old love letter, and he let Remy read it.
Remy looked back up at him from the letter. "And...?"
Very softly, he replied, “It alone destroyed what I toiled for years to build.” Sinister looked at him pointedly, but steadily.
What did this mean to him? "Y' mean... y' feelin' tings?" He stared at Essex.
Voice a little less steady, he said, “Yes.”
Remy squinted in disbelief. "What... are y' feelin'?" he asked, uneasily.
“My emotional vernacular is somewhat nonexistent after all these years. I couldn't tell you even if I wished.” He swallowed hard. “In time, I may perhaps be able to isolate the gene that has given you your empathy, but until then, I am... quite alone.”
"... My empathy? Is it useful to y'?" Remy was still reeling from all of this—he didn't follow.
Taking hold of the inhibitor around his wrists, Sinister said urgently, “Let me take them off, Remy, please. Let me feel it again....” Scraping his long nails across the lock, Sinister was ready to open it with the slightest bit of acceptance from him
"Feel... what?" he asked. Did his empathy allow Sinister to feel what he was feeling? Through Remy could he feel a wider variety of emotions? Did he have any on his own—what the hell? He was looking at Sinister perplexed.
Unable to wait any longer, Essex flicked Remy’s inhibitors free so they fell to the floor and pulled him into a crushing, hungry desperate kiss, pulling him close.
What?? Let go!!!! he thought, wildly struggling in Sinister’s iron grip. Remy's heart was beating wildly and fear, confusion, and hate raced through him. Remy's shields were down, he was so shocked and he felt the need that was pouring off of Essex—wait, Sinister! Remy's heart ached, threatening to crush in his chest.
Stop! Please.... he thought and became weak in the arms holding him.
Feeling all the negativity pouring off of him, Essex was pretty startled by that, and let him go, breathing heavily, staggering away from him a little. Remy felt like he was going to retch. And he thought Creed was bad! Remy collapsed as soon as he was let go.
Trembling on the floor Remy tried to get his shields around himself again. "Why...?" he trembled out.
Stumbling back until he thunked against one of the posters of his four poster bed, Essex managed to strangle out, “I'm sorry... I'm sorry…” I'm just so lonely... he was lonelier than anyone Remy had ever felt before in his life. Remy felt the isolation as part of his need and was amazed at even the memory of such solitude. "Why... me?" Did he do this, or was it his wife's letter, like he had implied.
Trying to get it under control, to be the mechanical construct he had been for almost as long as he could remember, Essex found he couldn’t do that any more. “Thought you would... understand.” He paused. “Or help....” Folding his hand over his eyes, Sinister felt that this was such a terrifying experience.
"Understand? You thought I would have pity for you? Out of everyone you've ever had any interaction with in de hundreds of years of your life—you thought I would help you?!" Remy ground his teeth. With the emotions, staring him in the face, he couldn't ignore them. God will damn him for what he done, Le Beau. 'S not y' place to. He crawled over to where he stood and, kneeling up, tentatively reached out to touch him. He felt sick still as he did it, but he suppressed it. "Tell me what happened," he said tightly. He sat beside him and let his arm wrap around his shoulder.
“No.” Rising, Essex started to walk out of the room, obviously rattled. “I'll show you to your quarters.” Well, wasn't this a bad fucking idea, he realized picking up Remy’s inhibitors on the way out.
"I said, tell me what happened," he ground out. "I ain' leavin' here until you explain y'self!"
“That is a long and complicated story.” Holding the inhibitors out for Remy to take, Essex said, “Best told in daylight.”
"Don' 'xactly know what time it is now," he said taking the inhibitors from him, but not putting them on. "Go head," he compelled.
“Ten Thirty.” Essex just knew these things. “Follow me. Your room has an individual thermostat if you would like it warmer...” He was a bit too humiliated to have this conversation with him right then.
"You owe me an explanation, Essex! I ain' leavin' dis room until you've explained how you're havin' emotions again an' what de hell y' plan ta do wit' dem!" Remy stood and clenched his fists. He wasn't happy about the lack of clothing accommodation at the moment, but he was much more concerned about Sinister's behavior.
Sighing a little heavily, Essex came back into the room and started getting ready for bed. Getting undressed just for something to do so he didn’t have to look at him, he said, “That letter from my wife. I thought I had burned everything of hers. Her clothes, her diary, her bed sheets, her combs and brushes... Somehow that letter survived, I don't know how I missed it. And once I found it, I don't know why I read it. I knew I shouldn't have.” He started pulling on silk pajama bottoms and his silk robe, taking his time to be distracted from looking at him. “Something in me changed. Like a hairline crack in my defenses, but it was enough for me to feel it. It was enough to be a threat. And the moment I considered burning that letter, the greater that crack grew. So I kept it.” He was fully dressed, and looked around for something else to occupy himself with.
"So... now dat you have dese emotions again... what are y' plannin' on doin' wit dem?" he asked, pretty curiously. His voice was much softer than it had been before. He understood how cracks in your defenses could affect a person's life dramatically. They had crippled Remy for a time.
Letting his long black hair fall around his broad shoulders, he continued, “I'm getting to that. The more I realized I was feeling, I confess, I panicked.” Giving up, Essex went and sat on the other side of the bed, back facing Remy. “I knew the only person who could help me would be an empath... Not even a telepath, your precious Xavier could've helped me... I needed someone who could fix the damage done to my defenses, to stop the small trickle of emotion that was coming through.” He slumped. “I have your DNA on file. Your genes always suggested empathetic abilities and so I cloned you.” Softly, he said, “He was a failure. No empathetic abilities whatsoever, only a slight penchant for premonitions.”
Remy's eyes widened at the admission that Essex had cloned him. Premonitions? How could he have made a clone then? "How could he have been m' clone den?" he asked.
Sighing, Essex said, “I didn't want him blowing things up. I saw you when you were a child, didn't want to have to go through that. But empathy... Like telepathy it is elusive... It is difficult to control, I realize now I would probably have had to made millions of clones just to have realistic odds of getting one with full empathic powers such as yours without the...” side effects. Softly, he said, “So you'll forgive me if I considered it more ethical to simply spirit you away as opposed to creating millions of dull-eyed Le Beau's to infest the populace.”
Remy swallowed. "So... y' wan' me t'... take y' emotions away again?" he asked. He knew that he couldn't do that, no matter how he asked or what he offered. Having Sinister have some sort of remorse offered avenues of progress for the X-Men never before dreamed.
Taking a deep breath, Essex said softly, “I'm not so sure, now.”
Remy nodded. This was good. "Okay. So.... what do y' wan' me t' do now?" he asked.
Wincing a little, Essex threw back the satin sheets and got inside. “Go to bed, Remy.” Settling in, back to him again, Essex was hidden under the blankets.
"What do you expect me ta do, Essex? Hunh?" Tentatively, he lowered his shields to see if Sinister was still feeling... and just how he was feeling... to see if this was some elaborate trick still... Remy sensed sorrow, fear, despair, still some lust, but he was monumentally lonely. Remy felt sick as the emotions flooded his mind and he tried to keep from throwing up. He sank at the side of the bed, hoping for a more stable set of legs to help support him.
Still too proud to tell him that he needed Remy’s help and that the only way he could get a little human contact was to kidnap someone, Sinister said, “Just wait. Your friends will rescue you soon. I'd be much obliged if you prevented them from tearing my house to shreds.”
Just wait? He brought me here for nothin'?? "Can' promise nothin'... 'sepcially widout de whole story." He felt such conflicting emotions in him... and somewhere in the far reaches of the jumble was... the faintest glimmer of hope. It shone against all the other black... and red emotions.
Rolling onto his back, Essex peered at Remy over the edge of the bed asked dryly, “Are you suggesting you will attempt to kill me in my sleep?”
"Was suggestin' I won' be able t' keep my friends from rippin' everythin' y' own t' shreds, includin' y', unless you tell me everythin'. How am I supposed to defend you if I only have part o' your explanation ta go off of?" He was feeling better, now that he had adjusted to the influx of emotions and their character.
Sitting up a little, he asked, “You truly are an idiot, Le Beau. You couldn't possibly discern why a man who hasn't felt an emotion for as long as he can remember would want an emapth around when they return?”
"No! I can't. I'm confused. Do y' wan' me ta take de edge off y' feelin's? Do y' wan' me to erase dem completely? Do y' wan' me t' only give y' de good ones? Do y' want me to enhance de whole bunch? Y' options are kinda limitless, so pardon moi, if I can' read y' mind!"
Blinking slowly at him, he said, “I don’t know... how to handle them, Remy.” In fact, he had felt like crying, like bouncing off the walls, laughing hysterically, curling up in a ball, throwing up, and flying. It was a circus in there!
Remy??? Dat's a first. Remy nodded and figured that he probably just wanted help then. Ugh. First Creed, now Sinister? De world actually changin' f' de better, or what? Remy cleared his throat and tried to figure out whether or not he should treat Sinister with a clean slate. "You... still have genetic dominance plans?" he asked quietly.
Smiling, he still liked to experience the pleasure he got from thinking about genetic tinkering. “Only of individuals.”
"So no Arian shit?" he asked, keeping his shields open for any signs of treachery... or insanity.
Raising his eyebrow at him, Essex was a little offended. “It had nothing to do with Aryans.”
Remy felt the pang, but ignored it. "Same ideals, Essex. Group name don' matter."
Huffing, Essex said, “No, Remy. No master race.” I may have to create a companion for myself when you leave though... a genetically superior companion.
Remy sighed. He sat down on top of the covers next to Nathaniel and reached out tentatively, mentally to him. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted, but he thought he would start out by reproducing a little comfort. Remy waited to feel acceptance of the emotions before venturing anything else.
Flinching a little, Essex glared at him. “Just what do you think you're doing?”
"Doin' what y' asked." Maybe havin' compassion f' de first time toward y'. I dunno. He felt the jumble just getting worse, and new feelings coming into the mix. They were a little confusing, but he kept them straight, even as they overlapped and tangled themselves together in his mind's eye.
Feeling something weird going on, Essex was not at all comfortable with this. “What are you doing exactly?” Remy blinked at the covers that he was resting on top of.
"Know it may come as a surprise t' you, but I don' know too much 'bout what I'm doin'. I'm jus' doin' m' best here. Tryin' ta take... moments o' m' life dat were comfortin'... take comfortin' thoughts, an' de feelin's from dem... so I can give dem to you. I can't say what's gon' happen t' you, Essex... but I'd say... y' might have a slightly washed slate." Not even Remy had been able to start with his clean, and he hadn't even known what was going on with the Mrolocks.
Quite nervous, Essex asked, “You're trying to... calm me?” Now wasn’t that something he had never thought he would hear himself saying.
"Whatever y' wanna call it," he said. He hoped that he would be comforting, because... he was feeling pity for him, he admitted that. He didn't let that show to him though.
Watching him, Essex was finding more and more that he just wanted to scoop Remy up in his lap and sink into his tight, hot body... but if he did that... he would feel... sorry for him. He would feel... bad. Essex sighed as the weight of all this responsibility settled on his shoulders.
Remy felt the increasing attraction and didn't know how to feel really. "So... wha' do y' wanna do wit' y' life?" he asked casually leaning his shoulder against the headboard of the bed.
“I beg your pardon?” Partly shocked by the peculiarity of the question, Essex was also shocked partly because he had just been imagining Remy naked.
"Sorry, if I'm gettin' too personal," Remy said and leaned away and just concentrated on projecting comfort.
Reaching out to touch Remy’s face he wanted to pull him into a kiss again, but stopped himself just before he made contact... because... oh, hell, what is that? Guilt? Shame? Embarrassment? That sounded right and he carefully leaned back against the bed again.
Feeling that pang too Remy sighed softly. "I... I understand," he said simply.
Looking away, Essex asked, “And what is it you think you understand?”
"What dat feels like. I understand what it's like... t' not b pleased wit' who y' are."
Looking at him, grossly offended, Essex said, “You think I pity myself?? I spent centuries making myself who I am!!”
"Non... I tink dat y' not likin' de tings y' thinkin'... Dat's not pity. Dat's guilt."
“I have no reason to feel guilty. That would be irrational. I haven't done anything.”
Remy chuckled. "Dat's denial, homme," he said flatly.
“What is denial!?” He was getting really frustrated with all of this, then getting frustrated at the frustration. He just wanted to just shut them all off again, these emotions.
Remy's mouth dropped open and he stared at Essex. "It's..." he tried to think of how to explain it. "When y' faced wit' somethin' so painful—y' don' wanna look at it. So y' look away instead." He threw in the feeling, that was kind of defensive in along with the explanation.
Sneering at him, he said, “I know what denial is, Le Beau! But what could you possibly think I'm denying!?”
"Dat y' have done tings, Essex. Horrible tings, dat, " because y' grew a conscience, "y' don' wanna admit. What do you tink about de tings you've done? De Morlock Massacre? Trickin' me int helpin' you? Countless experiments on countless people... an' y' think y' done nothin'?"
“I will not justify myself to you! I cannot force you to help me, but I will not endure your lecturing!”
"Essex... I don' feel comfortable helpin' y' unless I know more about y'. You tink I wanna fall int' a mess like I did before wit de Morlocks?"
Rolling his eyes, Essex drew, “Is that all you ever think about, Le Beau?”
"More dan I want to, oui." Especially wid you sittin' next ta me.
Leering at him, he said, “And I suppose you spend your time berating and belittling yourself for being the horrible, horrible monster that you undoubtedly think you are.”
Remy curled his feet up to his chest. "What would y' expect?" He was starting to lose the grip he had on those comforting emotions.
Sighing, Essex rolled his eyes. “I used you, Le Beau, you idiot. You and Sabertooth both... Manipulated you to do my will. Let's be honest, little Remy Le Beau... you didn't stand a chance against me.”
Remy closed his eyes. "I know.... Dat doesn' change de way I feel," he said honestly and looked at Essex's thoroughly red eyes.
“Feel, hm?” he said almost wistfully. “I never believed there would come a day when I understood what you meant when you said that.... But that doesn't matter, I suppose...”
"Why not...?"
Looking over at him, he explained, “Because it's too late to do anything about it.”
"Too late?"
“It happened years ago, Le Beau!” Sinister shouted. "Oui... but it still matters de way y' feel 'bout it." It matters to me, leastways.
Sighing, he said, “This is a discussion for another time, Le Beau. Are you adamant about sitting on my bed all night and pestering me or may I show you to your room now?”
"Anoder time? When do you tink I'm gonna get anoder chance ta speak ta you like dis? Hunh? You tink Logan will let me anywhere near you after he finds me?"
Smiling cruelly, Essex asked “Logan?” his voice dripping with distain. “I had heard you'd moved on from Rogue, but I never would have suspected you'd sink so low as to bed that mangy flea bag....”
"Flea bag?!!" Remy shouted. He leapt off the bed and stormed toward the door to the room, intent on leaving, but then he stopped. Why did he do dat? He wants me ta leave, obviously. He's real confusin'.... But I can’t leave.... I have ta stay and figure dis out, no matter what he might say about de man I love. Remy turned back to him and approached the bed again. "Jealous, Essex?" he asked angrily.
Laughing at him... Essex thought it odd that he actually laughed. He hadn't laughed in forever, but he laughed. “Is that what this is?” Honestly, he wouldn't know what to call it, but yeah, it was jealousy. “You're ridiculous, Le Beau. Adorable, but ridiculous.”
Remy focused his attention on Essex and found the residual emotions running around in his head. Amusement, and yes, jealousy. Remy's eyes opened wider at the comment about him being ridiculous and adorable. He squinted at Essex, then felt his heart sink. Essex... liked him? This didn't bode well. He was too shocked from figuring that out to say much right then. Remy sat on the edge of the bed, this time facing away from Essex. Why did this always happen?
“Are you still determined to sit this out? Make me expound upon the horrible emotions I feel welling up whenever you mention that awful incident that has obsessed you?”
Remy nodded, kind of numbly. "Y'... don' have ta talk about dat..." Now that he said he felt horrible about it, that was enough for him. "I..." So help me, I wanna help y', Essex. Xavier'd be proud a me... but I ain' so sure Logan is gonna be.... He wondered how it would feel to help Essex get his humanity back. He wondered if he could, seeing the amount of progress he had made on his own. How would he even do that? He could barely control his own emotions, much less someone else's....
Folding his hands placatingly, Essex said, “So what would you like to talk about, then?”
"Are you... plannin' on jus' bein' a... normal person now? Got any plans at all?" he asked, shifting on the bed to face Essex again.
“My plans are simply to stay here until I completely rot away.” There was no need to tell him about creating a perfect mate.
"But.... y' not gonna rot, Essex. Not unless y' lost y' immortality—have y'?" He didn't know if he was hopeful or not.
“I couldn't say.” I certainly fucking feel older. “Emotions wear on people the way time never could.”
"I agree wit' y' dere." Probably one o' de reasons I can only survive wit a healin' factor, Remy thought to himself. "I... don' know what I can do about de X-Men. You can hide if y' wan'... I'll tell 'em y' left."
Scowling, he said, “I have no intention of hiding, whatsoever, Le Beau. If they try to damage my residence, I will be there to stop them.”
"God damnit!" he hissed. He would just have to be there to stop both of them then. He sighed. "Fine. Whatever." He hoped it turned out all right and that no one got themselves killed.
Raising his eyebrows, Essex said, “Oh, for the love of God, I'm not going to hurt anyone! “
Remy smiled at the way Essex was talking. "I ain' never heard y' talk dis way... Nathaniel," he said. He was relieved to hear that he wasn't planning on hurting anyone.
Swallowing, Essex realized he was behaving temperamentally, and shrank back, trying to be his good old, stoic self. “Do not call me that!” He said it more vehemently than he ever would have said it before.
"S—sorry... Essex." Remy looked away from his distraught face. He could still feel the emotional pangs running around inside him.
Damn it now I feel bad for snapping at you... he sighed again. This is why I wanted you here, because I'm such a fucking invalid in this arena... He stared at him a little longer and just blurted out what was going through his head. “I haven't had sex in centuries.”
Remy's eyebrows raised at that comment, and its abruptness. He swallowed—hard. "Dat... must be rough." An' I tought I had it bad! "Do... do y' wan' my help, Essex?" he asked, although he really didn't know what he would do.... What did Essex need?
Startled, Essex asked, “You're offering to help me with sex?”
"W—I!" Remy blushed a shade of red that matched his eyes. He hadn't really been thinking that... it was more of an all-encompassing offer. He didn't know what he wanted help with....
Raising his eyebrows at Remy patiently, Essex thought that if Remy was offering, he would take him up on it. If not, well, he could leave it well enough alone.
"I don'... know what y'... need, Essex." His voice was weak and trembling. His breath was shallow and his heart was beating rapidly.
Reaching out, Essex put a hand on Remy’s thigh. “Are you scared I will hurt you?”
Remy shook his head... then nodded. He was afraid of being betrayed again. "Not... physically," he admitted.
“How could I hurt you otherwise?” Leaning in, he ghosted his lips over Remy’s neck. “I am not expecting an emotional commitment.”
Sensation started going straight to his cock, and Remy was reminded that it had been a week since his last orgasm. This wasn't Sinister any more, he tried to convince himself. This was a man with regrets, just like himself.... "I...." he whispered, but wasn't able to follow it up with anything. He leaned into the contact slightly and silently offered himself to Essex.
Pressing his cold lips to Remy’s neck Essex tipped him back on the bed so he could crawl on top of him, heart beating much faster than he had ever known it to, and feeling his cock swell in that alien sensation he hadn’t known for as long as he could remember. He paused a bit to get used to it. Remy ground his hips up into the body above it... though he still felt cold for how a body should feel. He was warming up, but if that was Remy's own heat reflected at him, he didn't know.
Kissing his lips Essex opened his thighs, letting his cock settle against Remy’s, gently rubbing, familiarizing himself with the sensation. “Remy....” Kissing him again, Essex used his powerful arms to crush him close.
"E... I... can I call y'... Nathaniel? Please?" he asked. He just felt so uncomfortable calling him anything else. Remy felt extremely vulnerable in that situation... but he admitted that was part of the pleasure of it.
Nodding, Nathaniel reached down and scooped up Remy’s bottom in his large hand, groping him, still experimenting with the pleasure of his cock on Remy’s and with the sensation of arousal and want. He wanted Remy so badly but didn’t have half an idea of what to do about it.
"Ahh," Remy breathed at the sensation of being parted. That was nice. "Do you have... somethin' slippery?" he asked, leaning up to capture an earlobe and suck on it.
“S... slippery?” What an odd request. “Why do you want something slippery?” Are you suddenly craving fish?
"F'... well, I though... y' wanted t' have sex…." he ventured, shyly. He really did still feel weird about this...
“I do.” He was not shy at all about wanting to screw Remy through the mattress. “... Oh...” He got it. “I have... this.” He pulled out a tube of petroleum jelly from the bedside table. Remy nodded. That would do. He kissed him deeply. He was glad that Nathaniel was warming up. He didn't feel so strange against his skin that way.
Handing Remy the tube Nathaniel started to disrobe, standing naked and erect before him for a moment before crawling over him again and cradling him close to kiss him. Remy's breath started coming shakily and he started bucking up against Nathaniel. The robe practically fell out of the way as they were fooling around.
The tube of lube was used and discarded hastily and Remy could feel little shudders going through him as he prepared himself.
Pushing his cock in Remy to the hilt as soon as Remy’s fingers were out of the way, Nathaniel knew they were going to go slow, so just remained lodged in him and shifted his hips back and forth, stretching him and stimulating him, his cock rubbing across Remy’s nub. Remy shivered and started his hands roaming all over him. He opened his senses to see what he was feeling as his hands felt along his nipples. He leaned up and sucked one, then bit it lightly.
Groaning, Nathaniel trembled against Remy and inside him. Lifting himself to his arms length Nathaniel gazed down at Remy, who was open and vulnerable to him. He was incredibly aroused by that alone. Remy let his legs fall wide by his sides and watched Nathaniel take a good look at him. He felt the arousal in his mind and the emotions there that were becoming stronger by the moment. Fear started to touch his mind when he thought that... maybe Nathaniel wouldn't let him go...?
Thinking he might be falling a little in love with Remy, since he could now... Nathaniel had been resigned since the beginning of his life that he was going to spend it alone, and he wouldn’t keep Remy... but he was desperate to live every moment he did have with Remy to the limit.
Trying to disguise his reaction as writhing in the pleasure of his cock stuck in him, Remy wasn't sure how well he was able to hide the leaking fear. After the fear, he couldn't keep his mind from asking... what was Nathaniel going to do when he was gone? He started to worry for Nathaniel.
Stopping, Nathaniel lifted up to look at him. “Am I hurting you?” He didn’t know what was wrong but knew something was wrong after all.
Remy pursed his lips. "Non... nothin's—wrong." I'm jus' worried 'bout you. "I jus'... what will y' do... when I go home?"
Lifting his eyebrows so they arched, Nathaniel then leaned over and kissed along his collar bone. “What do you care?”
That hurt. Remy's whole being cringed with a pang at that, but he couldn't cover up in time to not have Nathaniel see it because their minds were so closely intertwined. "I'm... sorry," he choked out.
“What...? Remy? What's wrong?” He pulled his cock out of Remy, thinking he was not wanting it.
Remy didn't really—not after an emotional blow like that. He took his presence away from Nathaniel and curled up a little on his side. "You said...." You said y' didn' expect any emotional commitment! What’s up wid dat?
“...... Did I hurt you?” he asked putting his hand on Remy’s side, stroking down to his hip.
"N…non," he said, though it wasn't really the truth, but not quite a lie either. "I... didn' mean t' hurt y', Nathaniel." I jus'... wanted ta make sure y' were gonna be okay. It's not like I'm devoid o' carin'... I jus'... care f' Logan more...
“You haven't...” He wondered what made him so cold. Really, Remy was hurt.
"I'm... sorry, Nathaniel. I... wish I could be two places at once... well, three actually, but dat's beside de point," he rolled his eyes to himself. "I'm really sorry."
Leaning over Nathaniel kissed Remy’s neck. “I told you I didn't expect an emotional commitment from you...”
"But I know... what y' feelin'... I can feel what's happenin' to you," he tried to explain weakly.
“I can live with it, Remy....” Nuzzling his neck, Nathaniel said, “I've been alone this long. I can stand to be alone a little longer.”
"A little? Nathaniel, if y' still immortal, it ain't gonna be jus' a little bit." He felt... sorry for Nathaniel, but he had closed off his mind to him at that point.
“We'll see...” Pressing up behind him again, Nathaniel folded his arms around Remy, kissing the back of his neck. That felt good... comforting. It felt like little zaps of electricity were shooting down his back when Nathaniel kissed him there.
"You... not plannin' on bein' 'round f' so long...?" he asked, worriedly.
Wanting to ask 'what do you care' again Nathaniel realized that Remy reacted badly to that the last time. “Don't concern yourself with it, Remy.”
"Is dat what you really want?" he asked.
“For now, yes.” No, I want you to say you'll stay with me for eternity, but I realize that's not going to happen, so drop it because it hurts.
Remy nodded and turned back to Nathaniel and started kissing him. This time, he was emotionally distanced from him, but physically he was intense in his kissing, and his groping of Nathaniel's body. He wanted him to know physical pleasure... and physical caring at least.
He could feel something was different... Remy was not here anymore, not 'with him’ like he was before... He felt the vast crevice between them. Kissing him back a little before pushing him away, back into the pillows, he said, “It is late, Remy... You need your rest.”
Remy swallowed and nodded. He lay down, curled away from Nathaniel, but not looking like he was planning on moving from the bed any time soon. "Nathaniel.... you got a plan... you always got a plan...."
“Perhaps I do, Le Beau.” Kissing his ear, he said, “Go to sleep.”
"You do!" he shouted looking at Nathaniel and was more fearful and excited than he could remember being in quite a long while. The implications given the circumstances were... Remy knew what his plan was. Would Remy give Nathaniel permission to clone him?
Staying where he was, Nathaniel looked up at him, waiting to see what he was going to do... He didn’t need to have a link with him to know he was upset.
"You... you're gonna clone me?" he asked, the fear in his voice was more apparent than he would have liked it.
“I have considered it. And I don't see why it makes you so uncomfortable.”
"Dere'd be somebody else jus' runnin' 'round wit' m' face on," he said. That could be bad for both people involved. "An'... he'd be trapped here. Would he have all my memories? He would hate it here den. I—I got mixed feelin's 'bout it."
“Who else is going to live with me, Remy? You wish for me to be alone here?”
"Non... I jus'... maybe y' could live somewhere else? Are y' gon' give him my memories?" he asked.
“No. He won't have your memories.” Coolly, he said, “And there is no where else I can live.”
Remy nodded. "Jus' so long as he don' got my memories. He'd be real moody den." He thought about leaving a piece of himself there with Essex like that... and figured that it probably wouldn't be so bad. "Okay, Nathaniel. You can clone me." He had a little trouble getting the words out, but they came and he breathed in deeply.
Chuckling softly, Nathaniel said, “Thank you for your permission.” He would've done it anyway, if he decided that was what he wanted. Stroking Remy’s pale back, Nathaniel was captivated by Remy’s beauty.
Feeling the weight of the situation pull him down Remy started feeling tired. He yawned in Nathaniel's grasp and relaxed into his body. He drifted off not too long afterward enjoying the feel of being slightly played with as the darkness encroached.
Very gentle with him, Nathaniel didn’t want to wake him or irritate him, but he was nuzzling him. Secretly, he took a lock of Remy’s hair.
********