DA REVELATIONS
Episode 15 – Pain
Chapter 1 – Dingy Grey Skies
The sky was a dingy grey colour – it seemed to have been that colour ever since the day he'd arrived on Muir Island just two and a half weeks ago.
Remy LeBeau couldn't remember ever having seen the skies of Muir Island clear blue – perhaps it was just a failing memory that led him to believe that the skies had always been grey, or perhaps...he just had never looked hard enough to notice. Perhaps it's just my mood.
Right now, the Island was thick with snow, and it crunched under his boots as he walked along the cliff's edge, his gloved hand skimming the icy metal railings as he moved. The water was rough, churning and crashing against the rocks below, and the wind howled, stirring his long hair, stinging his windburnt cheeks.
He'd never been overly fond of the Island. It was too bleak, too out of the way, there wasn't much on Muir Island except from a tiny fishing village, a pub, and a few necessary shops. He stopped to glance over the edge, in the distance across the water, he could see the city of Edinburgh, perhaps slightly less snowy than where he stood. It had been years since he'd been there; as he thought of it, he thought of the antique shop where he'd bought Rogue's engagement ring and he wondered if he would ever see the woman wear that ring again.
I could have, he reminded himself dully as he stared down into the dangerous waters. It was my choice not to get engaged this time. It wouldn't have been fair to her to get engaged when I'm such a mess...
He wondered what Rogue were doing at that very moment; he glanced to his watch and noted it was eight am, a Sunday. Rogue would be asleep...it'd only be three am in Bayville.
Even if I could call her, she'd be asleep, he reasoned as he turned back to head towards the research centre up on the hill. He wondered if Rogue had been thinking about him as much as he had been thinking about her. He couldn't call her on the phone – his phonecalls were monitored by Moira, he was only allowed to speak to the Professor during his time away.
Rehab, he thought somewhat angrily. It's like they've put me in rehab and I'm prohibited from being close to anyone I love.
He himself didn't see the point in being prevented from being in contact with Rogue or Jessie – it didn't make sense. He'd asked the Professor and he was only advised it would be best to help him focus on getting better rather than worrying about what's going back home. Personally, Remy wondered if it were a case of being like a naughty child who's toys and favourite possessions were taken away until such a time as he'd learned to behave.
Either way I look at it, Remy reminded himself, this is my own goddamn fault. If I hadn't been so stupid...if I'd been taking proper care of myself...if I hadn't waited so long in deciding to get help, I could have avoided this. I made some very bad, some very stupid decisions and now I'm having to pay for it.
Stepping into the research centre foyer was like stepping into a warm comfortable bath after standing naked in the cold air; the temperature was inviting, although the place was as stark, clinical and sterile looking as it always had been. He made his way to the new genetic and regenerative therapy lab where Moira MacTaggart would be. He found her there, standing with her clipboard in one hand as she stood by the chamber.
"How was your morning walk?" she asked somewhat disinterestedly as she gently turned a dial on the control panel of the large metal chamber.
"Chilly," he remarked, "I think Scotland is definitely colder than Bayville," he said, he took his jacket up and hung it upon the nearest chair.
"Take your shirt off," she instructed to him as she placed down her clipboard and picked up her digital camera.
He did as instructed to show her his chest; there had once been a three inch wound on his chest that had refused to heal – only two weeks ago it had been an infected painful mess. Now it was down to two inches, and healing incredibly well – it didn't even seem as deep and the pain had almost gone.
"It's healing well, but it hasn't closed up as quickly as I had hoped," Moira took a picture with the camera and put it down.
"You said all it would take was five days in the chamber," Remy reminded. That had been the plan originally. Five days unconscious in the chamber, and he should have been healed. But the regenerative therapy chamber, being a new piece of equipment, had been incredibly unpredictable and had kept shutting off during extended periods of time – in fact, using it had blacked out the entire island four times already and it had taken those four sessions of two hours a day to heal his wound this much.
"Yes, well, we couldn't have foreseen the machine being so temperamental or that our power source would be incredibly unstable," Moira said thoughtfully. "But now we've added a back up power source of immense proportions – I'm thinking just a few hours may take you to where you need to be."
"Maybe we should just call it quits," Remy suggested, "this is healing – the pain is hardly there anymore. Hell, that's good enough for me...we were supposed to be done with all this by now."
"You're still required to be here for a few more weeks of psychiatric care. The regenerative therapy won't hurt much."
Remy sighed and unbuttoned his jeans; he was less than thrilled with just how many times Moira had seen him almost completely nude. Changed days, he thought sourly. There used to be a time when I would have stripped down for any woman and never felt embarrassed about it at all. He climbed up onto the pull out tray of the chamber, shivering at how cold it felt beneath his bare legs. "You couldn't at least have the decency to put some kind of heating into the thing?"
"We'll work on that," Moira smiled.
"Wished it was sooner rather than later," he commented. He lay back, arms at his side, and closed his eyes tightly as Moira began to start the procedure.
It began with wiping various parts of his body with antiseptic before inserting thick, cold hard needles into his flesh that felt as if they went in so deep that they slammed into bone. The needles were attached to various tubes and wires.
"I sure hope you come up with a less painful way to do this," said Remy wincing in pain as the final needle went in – it felt as if the sharp hard edge jarred against his collar bone and he grunted, he knew soon the real pain would begin.
"We're working on that too," Moira announced; she pressed a button on the panel and the tray moved into the chamber, shutting at the other end.
The chamber was completely dark inside; Remy had no clue what went on inside it regardless of how many times he'd already been through this treatment. All he was aware of was the incredibly loud whirring noise and then it all seemed blanked out by the sharp acid-like feel of whatever came through those needles; tiny shocks seemed to follow in pulses and an uncomfortable heat travelled the length of his body. Every muscle in his body became tense with agony and he cried out to release some of the pain.
The plan had been to be unconscious during each session; but his tolerance for the anaesthetic had become too high, and Moira had refused to use much more of it. No other anaesthetic or painkillers could be prescribed to help him tolerate the experience; he had himself to blame for this.
If you hadn't been so stupid as to use ecstasy and get caught, you'd probably be in less pain right now, Remy told himself angrily as burning hot tears of pain slid down his temples, his body was on fire, as if every vein were alive with burning lava.
As his body went rigid with the torture, he focused hard on Rogue and Jessie. They were his reasons for doing this and he had to keep reminding himself that the pain was worth it, that the therapy would be worth it. These things would be enough to get him through until the machine would shut off, and the pain would end.