((Authors Note: Okay, I realise it has been absolutely YEARS since I updated this story – it has honestly taken a very long time for me to find any kind of motivation to continue. Over the past few months I received a lot of emails from readers who were curious if I was going to continue the story. I realise some things may be slightly wrong or inaccurate matching up to the previous episodes because of such a long break between writing – I apologise for this. Anyway. On with the story. I hope people will be glad to see it back again)).
DISMAL ANGEL: REVELATIONS
EPISODE 2 - Ghost
Chapter 1 – Must Have Been Dreaming
Monet St. Croix wiped the sleep from her bleary eyes and looked around the dark bedroom room confusedly, she she frowned. Something had aroused her sleep, like the shift of air from an open window or the rustling of heavy velvet drapes. Only, looking around the room seemed to prove her feeling to be in complete imagination. The windows were closed, there were no drapes, just black slatted blinds which were open enough that moonlight and the pale light from the garden lanterns spilled into the room.
She swept her long satiny black hair away from her face and sighed. The first words that had come in a tired sigh from her lips had been "Mr. LeBeau?"
Perhaps she'd just been dreaming, although honestly she couldn't remember if she had. Perhaps she'd dreamed of Remy LeBeau, it was only natural – it was his room she'd decided to commandeer while he was absent from the School. The increase of students in the mansion meant sharing a room with two other girls, both who were loud and particularly annoying as instead of sleeping at reasonable hours, they liked to stay up and discuss the boys they had crushes on or music and movies.
An eerie sense came over her that made the fine dark hairs on her arms stand on end. It didn't bring fear to her, but it didn't sit right with her either. Something definitely didn't feel right, but she couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly. She switched on her light and slipped out of bed, reaching for her robe where she left it on a chair near the bed. She pulled it on, and walked over to the window.
She ran her hand across the windowsill to see if she could feel a breeze that might have explained the cold she felt that was growing in the room – something to explain the cold spot she was standing right in. She wandered around the room trying to determine if a vent or something was attributing to the cold climate. She tripped over a large free weight, which clunked noisily as it moved easily with her strength. She fought the temptation to swear and continued to investigate the room.
It was moments later that Ororo Munroe opened the bedroom door; a stern expression on her beautiful face.
Monet sighed, she'd of course known she wasn't meant to be sleeping in this room and she'd done a fine job of hiding it – even Alison or Tabitha, her room-mates hadn't tipped off the instructors – but it seemed now however, she'd been caught thanks to the noise the weight had made against the carpeted floor.
"Monet, what are you doing in here."
"I couldn't sleep," Monet sighed, "I'll admit it freely, Miss Munroe, I come here to sleep whenever Alison and Blair keep me up at night. I did not think it would be inconveniencing anyone. After all, Mr. LeBeau has been gone for months, and I haven't touched any of his personal effects. I only use the bed for a good nights sleep..."
Storm folded her arms.
"Something is wrong in here," Monet confessed suddenly, "I was awakened by something – I'm not sure what. Can't you feel it?"
"Other than the temperature being a little on the cold side in here, I sense nothing wrong," Ororo admitted. "But the cold is explainable, the heating in this room was switched off months ago to conserve power."
"I guess I must have been dreaming," Monet sighed.
Ororo nodded towards the hallway, "back to your room, Monet. You know this room is off-limits even if Remy has been gone for months."
"Fine," Monet pouted, she followed Ororo out into the hallway, "maybe Dr. McCoy will let me sleep in the hospital wing."
"The hospital wing has a patient," Ororo said quietly, her expression pensive. "Now go to bed."
Remy stood by the window watching as the two dark skinned women left his bedroom. Despair began to weigh on his mind. For a moment he'd almost felt a glimmer of hope – especially when Monet had sat up and said his name. In that moment he'd almost been convinced she'd seen him there.
She was just dreaming, that's all. She couldn't see you, she couldn't hear you, and she couldn't sense you.
He moved across the room, recognising all his familiar belongings even in the darkness. The free-weight Monet had tripped upon, the last CD he'd listened to sitting on the dresser, the CD player – now unplugged.
A deck of cards piled neatly on the dresser too – not as he'd left it so someone he realised had been coming in and tidying the room, dusting the dresser, someone had picked up his scattered cards and piled them neatly. Someone had arranged his colognes, put them in order by size nearer the back of the dresser, placed his comb neatly in front of them beside his electric razor.
It felt like home being there once again and yet, it felt sightly unfamiliar. Disorientating, but perhaps it was because of the detachment he felt from his physical self.
He wished he could stretch out on his bed, feel the cool cotton sheets beneath his warm nude body, and sleep comfortably for hours with his cheek against the memory foam pillow. His mind was tired, but it wouldn't sleep without his flesh to accompany it. Instead he could only feel the exhaustion settling over him as if he'd been sedated but not yet passed out.
Remy decided to leave his room, he couldn't stand being there any longer, standing around with nothing to do, nowhere to be. Although he needed answers and knew his place should have been down inj the hospital wing with Hank and Jean to find out all he could about the condition of his body, he still felt compelled to go to Rogue's room.
He moved the door into the hall and made his way to Rogue's room. Nothing had changed, everything remained the same. The lights were on in the bedroom and Rogue was stretched out on the bed lying on her stomach flicking through a fashion magazine. She had a purple furry robe on, her long tan legs were bare and kicking back and forth absently, her long hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft brown and white curls.
Remy moved closer to look at her, he reached out with a ghostly arm to touch her, he could see his own bare flesh but it faded in and out as if he were disappearing. She shivered almost as if she felt his touch, and he might have gasped if he had breath.
She sat up and walked over to the radiator which was situated on the wall just behind the dresser. She placed her hand above it as if to check for the heat radiating from it, she frowned.
A knock at the door disturbed her, "come in," she said distractedly as she turned the dial on the side of the radiator to put the heat up a little more.
Bobby Drake entered the room, he was wearing a pair of sweat pants and an old t-shirt with a Nickleback logo on the chest. "Hi," he said.
She moved her hair back from her shoulders, "hey, do you think it feels cold here tonight?"
"Not really, I don't feel the cold like the rest of you," he reminded, "the heat, sure, but not the cold."
Remy clenched his ghostly fists at Bobby's presence. He needs to stay the fuck away from her already, he thought angrily.
She moved over to the window to check if it was properly secure.
"Are you alright?" Bobby asked, he looked worried.
"Course I am," she answered, "why do you ask?"
Bobby sat on the edge of her bed, he looked her right in the eyes, "maybe because you're getting more and more distant every day..."
Rogue rolled her eyes at him, "you're imagining things."
"You know how I feel about you, Rogue. I just don't think you really feel the same about me...you flinch every time I come near you...every time I touch you you cringe, you move back like you don't trust me."
"I don't trust myself, and I don't trust my powers," Rogue reminded, "there's a difference."
"Do you love me?" Bobby asked.
"I..."
He stood up, "that's what I thought," he said dejectedly and began to head for the door.
"Wait," she said softly, and he stopped but didn't turn.
"I...I..." she tried to get the words out but they wouldn't come. Remy swung angrily at her dresser, if she said it to Bobby Drake he didn't want to ever go back to being in his body, if she said it he hoped his body would die and his mind right along with it.
All her perfume bottles on the dresser toppled, they clattered off the wood, two dropped onto the carpeted floor with a soft thud.
Rogue gasped and turned to look at the dresser. "What the..."
Remy felt a sudden rush of triumph flow through his ghostly form. I can move stuff!
