Disclaimer:

X-men, and in particular Gambit (Remy Entienne LeBeau, that this story is about), are the creations of Marvel Entertainment Company. I don't have any connection with them whatsoever, and haven't even asked for permission to use them. I just borrow their characters because of my own lousy imagination can't come up with as good characters as they do.

The Green Mile is a wonderful book/movie by Stephen King, and I haven't asked him if I could use his works either. But I am writing this to show that I do care if people know this...I am using quotes from the book, sometimes a bit freely translated back to English (because my copy's in Swedish), but I hope they are somewhat right.

I'm no genius. I am happy to know my own language (Swedish) and English well enough to operate a ordinary everyday life. But I have used french here that I couldn't tell you what it meant, not for the life of me. So, spelling in French...that's something happening to other people. I have a dictionary that my mother used in the 70's. Have patience with me.

Don't sue...I write this for fun, and fun only. When I want/need money, I have a job where I work my hands to the bone...I barely have time to write as it is, so a lawsuit would give me even less time to have fun. And less money to buy food for.

I think that should do it. Now read and enjoy.

1.1 His Last Words

"Marie! Je vous salute, Marie, oui, pleine de grâce; le Seigneur est avec vous; vous êtes bénie entre toutes les femmes, et mon cher Jésus, le fruit de vos entrailles, est béni.

Marie, ô ma mère, Mère de Dieu, priez pour moi, priez pour nous, pauv' pécheurs, maint'ant et à l'heure....l'heure de notre mort. L'heure de mon mort. Ainsi soit'il."

-S. King, The Green Mile 1996

1.1.1 Chapter 1

The words rang through the cellblock. Block E. The Last Block. The Last Mile. The Green Mile, named by both guards and the various temporary inmates after the colour of its walls and floor, a distinct, ugly green colour. Cells lined it almost from the beginning to its end, but most of them were empty.

All but one, in fact. All but the one closest to the guards desk by the door. The one where they could most easily had him under observation. The one where he couldn't hide away and end his misserable excuase for a life before it was handed over to 'Old Sparky', or whatever that stupid nickname for the horror called the Electric Chair was...

In the other end of the Green Mile it waited. He could hear the screams of those who had sat in the chair before him. It was an inanimate thing. It couldn't be alive. Not in any way or sense. Yet it waited. Patiently. Waited for some stupid little man in his stupid little office to decide that this date, indeed, was a good day for Remy Entienne LeBeau to die...

Gasping for air, Remy opened his eyes and sat up in his bed. A nightmare. He cursed under his breath as he turned the switch of the lamp.

"Mon Dieu..." he muttered, watching his hand as it shook like a leaf. "No more watchin' late movies 'fore bedtime, eh..?" He tried, but couldn't quite bring himself to smile. No, this dream had been so vivid, so alive... It was as if he could still feel the smell of the cell he had been in, still could feel the chilly iron bars between his hands, still could feel the guards' looking him with a mix of disgust and contempt...as if he had done something terrible. Must have been that movie, right? Had been just like it, as he could remember. And hadn't one of the poor devils that was electrecuted been cajun? Enough for his mind to make a nice little nightmare out of it. He sighed and turned over, trying to fall asleep again. Just a nightmare. Nightmares weren't real. Ad if they once were gone, they seldom came back. Not at once, at least.

The next morning, he stumbled down to breakfast with his red-on-black eyes laying deep and dark rings deep enough to be mining shafts under them. Answering all the greetings and mumblings from the other residents of the mansion with a barely audiable 'Bonjour', he poured his coffee with hands that he could barely keep from shaking. Logan lifted his gaze from the sportssection, and frowned.

"You 'kay, Gumbo?" His question made the others turn their gazes towards him aswell, and Remy nodded and smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

"Oui, no worries." he replied, without realizing that he at the moment looked like he was about to faint. "Jus' a li'll tired, 's all."

"Ah think's looks more like ya gonne fall face flat inta you're breakfast, shuga'" Rouge said with a worried frown on her forehead. "Wha's the matter? Been up all night whatchin' movies 'gain? Ya knew we 'ave a session now in tha mornin', and what Scott thinks..."

Remy shook his head, carefully. It hurt to make any movement to hasty, and small flashes of light behind his eyelids told him that this was not just plain loss of sleep...

"Non, jus' coul'n't sleep." he said shortly, and then turned his attention to the still hot coffee in his hands, ignoring the exchange of looks around the table.

'Coffey, like the drink, but it's not spelled the same way.'

He nearly sprayed the contents in his mouth over the table, but managed to swallow instead, even if it cost him a coughing fit worthy a smoking 103- year old with psneumonia. Logan got up and slapped him powerfully in the back, trying to help in a way that might be as old as the human race.As the coughs slowly ebbed away, Remy motioned for him to stop.

"Gentil, mon ami....'fore you break my ribs..." he croaked, and thankfully stretched out for the glass of water that Jean held out for him. 'Merci..' he muttered and drank carefully.

Logan sat down again and shook his head as he picked up the sportsection again.

"Mind tellin' us what it's 'bout this time, huh?" he asked before he seemingly forced his gaze down to the hockeyresults, trying to sound and act casuall.

"Oui." Remy sighed, and then got up, leaving the cup halfempty. "I mind." he said quietly before he left the kitchen, heading out the main entrance.

But, he wouldn't have minded, if he only had know what was going on with him 'this time'... He knew what people would think if he told them about the nightmares. And the voice. He only heard it once, so far, but to judge from what it said, it would have to be connected with the nightmares...Suddenly, he wished that he hadn't been so fond of watching scary movies late at night...or any movies at all, for that matter. It wasn't as if last night's movies had been horror movies, they just had a little element of suprise and/or suspense in them...

Sighing, he shook his head and stepped into the shower, relaxing slightly as the warm water embraced him. The warm steam swept up towards the ceiling, and he smiled. That's right. He'd get some sleep, and everything would come back to normal...and he'd stop watching movies before bedtime, at least for a while, to see if it helped.

'I tried to take it back...but it was too late.'

With a yelp, he spun around, almost expecting the huge John Coffey, as he was pictured in the movie, to stand behind him, but his gaze only fell on the empty bathroom.

"Was' goin' on?" he asked out loud, more than happy to accept it as one of Bobby's pranks, or Jube's ideas of 'fun'. But no answer came. He looked around, and even if he was in a hot shower, he felt cold shivers run up his spine. There was something he couldn't explain going on here, and he didn't like things he couldn't understand more than the next person...

When there were a loud knocking on the door, he jumped and realised that he'd been standing frozen, stareing at nothing for God knows how long.

"Who 's it?" he called, and got a gruff answer from Logan, that if Remy didn't get his ass out of the bathroom he'd pull the door down. Remy frowned, and turned off the water, muttering in cajunfrench to himself as he pulled a towel around his waist and opened the door. He was suprised to find that not only Logan was outside, but Bobby, Hank, Warren and Kurt where there aswell, all with worried expressions.

"Wa's goin' on out 'ere, eh? Can't a man 'ave some privacy in de shower 'nemore, hm?" He grinned, convinced that if there had been a greater emergency, they wouldn't have worried about warning him before they tore the door down...They just stared at him for a couple of seconds, and then Logan shook his head.

"I don't know how much 'privacy' you need, Gumbo, but three hours with the water runnin' is on the outside, don'tchathink?"

"W'at!?" Remy blinked. Three hours...They must have read the suprise on his face before he remembered to hide it, because they all looked even more worried now. Even Bobby and Warren, who had never cared much for him at all.

"Can't be right..." he muttered, and shook his head, frowning. Three hours lost just stareing at nothing...couldn't be right, could it? He looked at them again, and almost pleaded;

"Can it?" They didn't answer, but Logan held out a hand towards him.

"Come on, Gumbo." he said in a friendly tone. "I think ya woul' just need some sleep and ya'll be right as rain." Nodding slowly, Remy took Logans hand and was gently led towards his room. He hoped Logan was right. He really hoped. Because the alternative...it was unthinkable.