Regrets collect like old friends
Here to relive your darkest moments
I can see no way, I can see no way
And all of the ghouls come out to play
And every demon wants his pound of flesh
But I like to keep some things to myself
I like to keep my issues strong
It's always darkest before the dawn
And I've been a fool and I've been blind
I can never leave the past behind
I can see no way, I can see no way
I'm always dragging that horse around
And our love is pastured, such a mournful sound
Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground
So I like to keep my issues strong
But it's always darkest before the dawn
-Shake It Out, Florence & The Machine
It was dark where Remy was, but not completely dark because they never turned off the lights. He was in a cell in The Raft prison facility in New York City, on the East River. To keep out the light, Remy had made himself a tent under his jacket. Occasionally, he would consult his iPod and be dazzled by the blueish-white glow from the screen. They'd given him his jacket, his cards, and his iPod shortly after they'd taken him into custody. Kitty had gotten to his iPod music list. All of the blues that the vampire-hunter Blade had given Remy had been deleted, which Remy found really irritating. Remy wanted to listen to Billie Holiday on endless repeat until he lapsed into a fugue of misery. Instead he found that Kitty had made a playlist titled: HAPPY FUN TIME MUSIC. It was mostly pop and top-forty and completely unlistenable in Remy's opinion. There was the occasional decent HAPPY FUN TIME song however.
"You just caaall out my naaaame...And you know wherever I am...I'll come running...to see you again...Winter, spring, summer, or faaa-all...All you have to do is call...And I'll be there, yes, I will...You've got a friend..."
Greycrow had said on several occasions that Remy was a sentimental sap. Remy did enjoy this particular song quite a bit. That was Mercy's fault. Kitty couldn't have known when she picked You've Got A Friend for her silly playlist, but the song put Remy in mind of the Sunday afternoons of his youth. Sundays meant time to sit and read, listen to music, and spend time with family. Mercy would put on her scratchy records from her teenage years and she and Henri would dance around the sitting room to Carole King and James Taylor. When Remy was a teenager he would watch them and roll his eyes while secretly becoming a hopeless romantic. Remy hoped Simon & Garfunkel weren't in the mix. He wasn't sure if he could take it.
"Hello lamp-post...What cha knowin'? I've come to watch your flowers growin'...Ain't cha got no rhymes for me?...Doot-in' doo-doo...Feelin' groovy..."
Oh no, Remy thought. If he had to listen to this, he'd much prefer Mrs. Robinson, one of Mercy's top ten favorites. It was amazingly coincidental, since Bobby was the one who had Remy watch The Graduate. Bobby Drake had been wearing Mercy's shade of red lipstick all over his neck during Remy's birthday party. The song had a whole new meaning to Remy now; Mrs. Robinson, indeed. He smiled.
"I'm a survivor! I'm goin'na make it! I will survive! Keep on survivin'!"
"Gah!" Remy sat up and pulled the earbuds from his ears. He looked at his iPod; Destiny's Child again. Remy groaned.
He sat on the edge of the bed and rummaged through the pockets of his jacket. Most of his belongings had been removed but he still had his notebook. No pencils or pens though. Apparently he was not allowed anything pointy. There was still something pointy hidden in the shoulder of the jacket, but it would probably mean trouble if he took it out now. He found the pack of crayons that he'd bought for Rafe. The green was nothing more than a nub, but the red was still in good shape. Remy needed to make a list of things he had to do. He was thinking much more clearly now. His thoughts were no longer tripping over one another and his emotions were back in check.
The first thing he had to do was explain to the others about Rafael. He realized now that is what he should have done from the beginning, but his paranoia had told him otherwise. The second thing to do was to talk to Logan privately. Remy had to approach this situation carefully. He didn't want to involve Rogue or Bobby. He'd feel guilty about asking them to do what Remy felt had to be done. Logan would understand though, at least Remy hoped so. He wished he hadn't irritated Logan so badly these past few months. He loved to rattle Logan's cage and be guaranteed a response every time. Remy would have to explain about the baby, the attack on BellaDonna, and the monster. What Remy wanted wasn't revenge, it was justice. Justice for the child the monster had stolen for some nefarious purpose and surely murdered in his savage assault. After, Remy would have to apologize for his erratic behavior and hope his probationary status at the school hadn't been changed to terminated status.
Speaking of apologies, he would definitely have to tell Hank he was sorry for nearly incinerating him. Then he'd have to beg for Rogue's forgiveness. He cringed when he recalled some of the things he'd said to her. Remy had been lost in a state of both loving and hating her simultaneously; a space that was inhabited by three lucky people in Remy's life, the other being Jean-Luc LeBeau and the third was not to be thought about. Remy had really wanted to land an emotional sucker-punch that would send Rogue reeling; that would make her recognize the depth of his feelings for her. She consistently denied him the reactions he wanted. She was all about setting limitations and control. He could only imagine what Dr. Drumm would have to say about the whole thing; he'd be in his element. He would be all: blah blah blah denial, blah blah repressing feelings of anger and resentment, blah blah blah negative outlets of emotion blah blah.
He had to apologize to Idie too for letting her down. He felt uncomfortably guilty about that. It reminded him of the cousin he'd failed, Etienne, which was something he'd never gotten over. Remy had been carrying playing cards around with him since the day Etienne had been killed. It was a constant reminder of his failure to save his cousin, friend, and sponsor. Unfortunately, Remy suffered from somewhat masochistic tendencies and was unable to escape this particular pattern of behavior.
And then there was Cecelia. He really hoped he was misremembering the events at her apartment; it was unbelievably humiliating and Cecelia had been less than pleased. It was the damned sedatives. They worked well to relax his body and mind, but did nothing for impulse-control. That's how cousins got punched in the face, trucks got stolen, dogs were acquired, and ex-wives got slept with. Remy had demanded too much of Cecelia's time, calling her at all hours day and night, and as Bobby would put it, Remy had been "over-sharing." And now this. Why couldn't he have taken his own advice he'd given Bobby and just said 'no'? Why was he constantly doing things to get people's acceptance? How was he going to make it up to her? Several suggestions presented themselves in his mind and he quickly dismissed them. Remy, he thought, you're incorrigible. It wouldn't do for Rafael to see those kinds of things.
He let his thoughts turn to Rafael. Remy hadn't spoken to him in awhile, though how they communicated could only loosely be described as speaking. They had their own way of understanding one another. Rafe knew what Remy was saying and vice versa. It was the way Remy had first learned language and how he'd spoken until Jean-Luc had spent all those hours schooling it out of him.
Rafey, he thought. There you I speak to?
Here me, Rafe responded.
Okay? Remy asked.
Yes, Rafe answered.
Away keep telepaths you, Remy told him. Rafe needed to keep himself hidden from telepaths. Remy didn't want anyone to know what Rafe was thinking; Rafe didn't know how to guard his thoughts. Remy needed to protect him, keep him independent and his own person.
Afraid no, Rafe said. Rafe wasn't afraid of anything, he just didn't know any better.
Fear safe keep you, Remy said.
Brave Remy, Rafe said, wanting his brother to be bolder, more courageous. Remy could feel Rafe's smile.
What tell me you no? Remy asked, suspicious.
Rafael laughed. Secret.
Rafey... Remy begged. But Rafael had gone back to wherever it was he hid himself and Remy didn't follow.
It was miraculous Remy was able to make himself understood at all. From the articles he'd read, he'd learned that people who'd suffered the kind of severe neglect he had experienced in his earliest years had a hard time communicating. Rafael too had been locked away for so long. It was nice to have Rafe there; he was someone who understood Remy perfectly for once.
Remy looked at his iPod. According to the date, he'd been in this cell now for nearly five days. Soon, Drumm would come back for Remy's reevaluation. Remy wondered what his chances of getting out of here were. Probably not great, but maybe he could get an upgrade to a different facility, one that wasn't meant for psychopathic super-powered villains. And the food here was terrible. The company, on the other hand, wasn't so bad. All the guards here were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Two of them Remy remembered from bootcamp and neither could honestly say they were surprised to see Remy end up in prison. They'd even had bets on why he'd be incarcerated. Agent Perry had bet Remy had stolen something, possibly an aircraft carrier. Agent Lopez had put his money on Remy being a crazy mutha, so Remy supposed Lopez was the winner. Perry and Lopez were nice enough to sneak him stuff that was at least edible, and not gelatinous greenish gray ex-green beans in casserole form.
So since he was waiting for Drumm to show up, he could do something constructive in the meantime. Remy sat on the floor and opened up a new deck of cards. He shuffled and cut them, then lay out twenty-one cards face up in three rows of seven. As a Catholic, he shouldn't be messing around with fortune-telling. As a New Orleans native, the crossover between faith and magic was an everyday way of life. Given the circumstances of his birth, he wondered that he wasn't naturally predisposed to precognition.
The first row was the past, which was to Remy often as mysterious to him as the future. The Six of Hearts never failed to appear in the row, it was the card for a care-giver. Remy often thought it was Tante Mattie's card, but now he wasn't sure. That card was tied to a sudden change in Remy's early life. Was it because Tante Mattie had interfered in Remy's destiny, or did the card signify Destiny's choice to steal away with him and Rafael? Another ever-present card was the King of Diamonds. That was Jean-Luc. A third card was the Nine of Spades, Remy's personal low. He was glad that card was behind him.
The middle row was the present. The Jack of Clubs was there; that must be Bobby. Remy was glad to see him next to the Five of Spades, which could either represent Remy himself or a temporary set-back that was a blessing in disguise. Either way, Bobby had his back.
The last row was the future. It was a mix of hearts and spades. So, it was going to be creativity versus logic, faith against reason. The first card was the King of Spades. It filled Remy with conflicting emotions: anticipation and dread, fear and respect. He knew the King of Spades was close, that he'd be coming soon. Remy needed to tamp down those emotions; he couldn't be at war with himself. Remy needed to prepare himself for when they met. Then there was the Three of Hearts-emotional conflict. That was a given, Remy thought. The Three of Spades...so, something would be interfering in an important relationship. The Ace of Spades was also present. That could be good or bad. Either way, something drastic was going to happen, come to an end or change. The Seven of Spades was an obstacle to success but was followed by a fortuitous card, the Nine of Hearts: wish fulfillment. The final card made Remy's heart leap with joy: the Queen of Hearts, his heart's desire. He'd come to associate the card with Rogue. Seeing her there made him feel practically giddy.
Sometimes getting everything you wanted could be a bad thing, but hadn't Tante Mattie told him it would all be worth it? Didn't Destiny's letter mention knowing great love? He looked to the future with renewed confidence.
Remy heard the buzz that signaled that the cell door would open. He looked up from his cards as the door slid aside reveling two S.H.I.E.L.D. guards, one of which was Agent Lopez. Remy offered him a vague smile. It wasn't breakfast time for a few hours yet. Had Dr. Drumm arrived early?
"Mornin'," Remy said.
"Remy," Lopez said, he looked nervous. Remy gave him a curious look. "You're being released."
Remy stood, careful not to disturb his spread of cards. He shrugged on his coat. The other guard looked as though he was going to protest, but Lopez held out a hand. "He's cool," Lopez told the guard. "He's one of us."
The other guard gave Remy an appraising look. "Really?"
"He survived bootcamp...plus Nick Fury is his uncle or something," Lopez explained.
"Close family friend," Remy clarified.
"Uhm," Lopez began. "I'm going to need you to hold out your arms."
Remy raised his brows. The guards had shackles. "If I'm being released, why do I have to be restrained?"
"I'm sorry, Remy," Lopez said. "You're being released to another facility...transferred."
"I am? Where is Drumm sending me?"
Lopez continued to look uncomfortable. He held out the restraints. "It'll be fine," he said, though he seemed to be trying to reassure himself more than Remy.
Remy shrugged. "You're just doin' your job," he said and stood passively while his wrists were shackled, then chained to his waist. He was hobbled as well. Remy LeBeau: model inmate; not a single riot instigated.
Remy was led from his cell flanked by both guards. They passed by other cell doors while walking toward an elevator. The Raft was largely underwater, the cells were lined with adamantium, and once inside the facility a mutant's powers were negated. Remy was on the second level. He was mildly insulted they didn't find him dangerous enough to keep on the lowest level. Surely being the greatest thief of the millennia would place him in Level Eight status? They traveled up to the ground floor.
"Is Dr. Drumm here?" Remy asked as they stepped off the elevator.
"No," Lopez answered, glancing at his partner.
The answer gave Remy a feeling of trepidation. "He's not? When did he sign off of de transfer?" They began walking down another hall towards a closed door.
Lopez hesitated. His partner answered instead: "Dr. Drumm didn't sign off. Your other doctor did."
"Xavier?" Remy asked, confused. Xavier hadn't treated him in a long time, not since before Onslaught.
"No," the partner said. "Frost. Emma Frost."
Remy missed a step. "She's not-she's not my doctor," Remy said. He had not appreciated her treatment sessions in the least. If anything, they had made things worse for both him and Rogue.
"They've assumed custody, responsibility for your treatment," Lopez said.
"They? They who?" Remy asked, all ready knowing the answer. The door was opened into a room that was set aside for probation hearings. There was a metal table in the center of the room bolted to the floor. A single metal chair, also bolted to the floor, was set in front of it. There were several chairs behind the table, as well as a one-way mirror that reflected the back of the man standing before it.
"The X-Men," Lopez answered.
Magneto was standing before the table, his arms crossed.
Remy carefully guarded his expression while keeping his eyes on Magneto as he was lead to the metal chair. His restraints were fixed to a loop of metal set in the floor.
"Sorry," Lopez said again. "A staff doctor will be in to see you. You'll be fitted with an inhibitor and sedated."
"Is that really necessary?" Remy asked, his voice even and unreadable.
Lopez frowned pensively at him. "It'll be okay. Try to behave yourself, Remy."
"And you, Ángel," Remy responded with a smile.
"Ángel?" the other guard said, giving his partner an incredulous look.
Agent Ángel Lopez gave Remy a disgusted look. "If you weren't shackled, I'd kick your ass."
Remy grinned. "This might be de only time you'd actually stand a chance, mon ami. Better get your shots in while you can."
"At least I don't have a stripper's name," Lopez said as he and his partner departed.
Remy turned his attention back to Magneto, who was regarding Remy with a mixture of distain and curiosity. Remy lifted his shackled arms as much as he was able.
"We have t'quit bein' seen together like dis," Remy told him. "People are gonna start t'think we're into some pretty kinky stuff."
Magneto scowled. "If you believe you are being humorous, you are mistaken."
"Before we start, let's set some ground rules...my safe-word is 'clementine,'" Remy informed him. He was hoping for a reaction, but as usual, Magneto remained cooly detached. "All right, so you're not a fan of bawdy humor. You must be a slapstick kinda guy. I like wordplay myself."
"Are you unaware of the severity of your situation?" Magneto asked him. "How far removed from reality are you?"
"I like t'keep a sense of humor, it's a coping mechanism. De jokes just get worse from here." Magneto was immovable. Let's call a spade a spade, Remy thought to himself, enjoying his own private joke. Magneto was definitely a spade, or in the Tarot deck, a sword. Swords were decisive, intellectual, of sound mind and reason. They were also judgmental and unyielding and needed an emotional foil for balance. Remy saw himself as a Heart, or a Cup. Cups were compassionate, creative, and tolerant. They could also let their emotions rule them, were quick to anger, and devious when crossed. Cups were water signs, Swords were air. Both existed together, hydrogen and oxygen. But Swords were weapons, meant to defend or destroy, and Cups were vessels, meant to be filled and shared.
"We shall see how humorous you are once sedated," Magneto said.
"I really appreciate you takin' an interest in my mental health," Remy told him.
"Your health is of little concern to me. You are bound and chained, like a wild animal. It is my responsibility to see our kind protected from reckless mutants like yourself," Magneto said.
"I'd just like t'point out that I was put here for my own safety," Remy told him. "I'm not some megalomaniac bent on world destruction like some of de other yahoos in dis place. I have not been imprisoned because I've been judged of some wrong-doing."
"I suppose you have deemed yourself to be above judgment."
"Well, you ain't de one who has a final say in de matter," Remy said with a wry smile. "I'll wait for de Big Man upstairs t'make de call."
"You will be found lacking," Magneto said, his eyes narrowed.
"You know, if I didn't suffer from de occasional bouts of neurotic paranoia, I'd say you have it out for me. I don't un'erstand why you went t'all de trouble t'come out here for me, let alone set up some kinda trial in Antarctica on my behalf."
"Perhaps in this instance it is not paranoia," Magneto told him. "You might have come to that conclusion, if you possessed any common sense."
"I'm small potatoes, Magneto. I have done everything t'fly under your radar for some time now. If dis is about Rogue, you can relax. She's made her choice and I'll come t'terms wit' it. I'm not messin' around wit' your girl."
"This does not involve your sick obsession with Anna," Magneto told him. Remy allowed a flicker of irritation to show on his face. He hated that Magneto tossed around Rogue's name so casually as if he'd earned the right to use it, as if it meant nothing. "This is about your other disturbing predilection."
Remy kept his breathing even and ignored his racing heartbeat. Did Magneto know Remy's secret? The one he'd rather die than admit to? Remy hadn't been completely honest with Bobby when he said he didn't hate anyone. Remy had saved his hatred for himself, for his secret. Because what kind of person did that make him, really? It was the very heart of his sickness, why he couldn't recover in spite of medication and therapy.
"You live in service of Sinister," Magneto told him. "You worship him, follow him as if he were a prophet. You're his pet, his dog. And you can't stop yourself from continuing your allegiance to him, any more than you can cease your infatuation with Anna."
Remy swallowed, his throat constricted with withheld emotion. Maybe he was wrong, and he could hate someone. He was actively hating Magneto at that very moment. Lord, he thought, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, make me sow love.
"What's more, is your failure to amount to anything, to achieve your true potential. You, in your idiocy, threw away your power. You might have been an instrument for change on a global level. Instead, you are nothing."
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life. Amen.
Remy drew a bracing breath. "I might be able to see your point, Magneto. But I have never had an interest in power. I can respect you, but I'm not like you. I don't have a grand vision for de future. I have to keep notes just to make it through de week. My goals are more on a local-level...I don't have a world-wide agenda. I don't inspire men to greatness."
"You have an astute assessment of yourself," Magneto replied.
"You have all of that stuff I don't have," Remy continued. "Including Rogue's respect, her affections...maybe her heart. I don't know why you'd take a chance on that. If you choose to throw that away, then you're de idiot."
"If you are under the impression that the words of a madman in chains should influence me in some way-."
"If I could influence one person, be an example, even if it's a bad example, so that someone else can learn from my mistakes, then I'll say: mission accomplished. That's my purpose, to be there for someone else. I'm th'sidekick, the diversion. If I could influence you in any way, I'd tell you t'try some humility on for size. But I can see I'd be wasting my breath. Some people can't learn but de hard way."
"On that, you and I can come to some agreement. Though given that you continue to make the same mistakes over and over again, I doubt you capable of being taught."
"Every time I've been brought low, I've only climbed higher. I don't want t'carry hate around in my heart. I could just as easily be you, and wallow in de wrongs that have been done t'me and use them to justify my actions."
"Do you think that your pathetic life in any way compares to my own...?" Magneto said, his voice was a low hiss of disbelief.
The door reopened to admit a slight pale man with dark hair dressed in a white coat. He was carrying a metal tray.
"Oh good, doctor," Remy said. "I hope you brought somethin' strong. I can't take listenin' to dis pompous ass another moment."
The doctor set the tray down onto the table. There was a syringe and a vial set on the tray. When the doctor rolled up Remy's sleeve, Remy looked at Magneto. "If you think I'm annoyin' now, just you wait."
Magneto glared.
The doctor administered the sedative and rolled Remy's sleeve back down. The two S.H.I.E.L.D. guards returned with another restraint. Remy was uncoupled from the floor and the inhibitor was locked in place.
"How do you feel?" the doctor asked.
"Feelin' groovy..." Remy sang. It was a good thing he couldn't use his powers. Otherwise, he'd have charmed everyone into feeling a little groovy too.
The two guards led him from the room, Magneto and the doctor following behind. They continued back to the elevator and traveled up another floor. Once outside of the elevator they progressed through a pair of double doors and into the night air. There was a breeze coming off the East River.
Lopez leaned forward and spoke into Remy's ear. "I can put a message through my commanding officer and see if I can't get a hold of Fury."
"That'd be mighty kind of you," Remy said lightheartedly. "It's nice t'have friends in high places."
"This isn't right," Lopez said. "The whole thing stinks."
Remy smiled. "It's just a temporary set-back."
"The one thing I know about you, Remy," Lopez said, "is that you seem to fall in shit and come up smelling like roses."
Remy laughed as he was walked toward a waiting ferry and across a metal gangplank. He had to concentrate on placing one foot in front of the other. Once they crossed the gangplank, it was removed and the ferry's railing was closed and locked. "You ever see dat firearms instructor?" Remy asked his friend.
"The redhead?"
"That's de one."
Lopez smiled. "On occasion."
"Well, next time you see her...tell her: here's t'you Mrs. Robinson..." Remy said.
"I'm not interested in being castrated. You can tell her yourself once you get out. We'll all go get a beer," Lopez told him.
"Sounds like a plan. I've got a friend, Vernon, I'd like her t'meet."
Remy was taken aboard the ferry and into an enclosed cabin. Inside the windowless cabin were several metal benches, all vacant. Remy was seated on one of the benches facing away from the bow of the ferry. Thankfully, he was not shackled to the loop on the floor this time. He sat and stared hazily into the distance. The doctor sat beside him on the bench.
"This is unnecessary," Magneto said.
"Custody of the prisoner will be transferred when we arrive at your aircraft," Lopez's partner said. "And after you've acquired your flight itinerary from San Francisco International."
"I wasn't born there...perhaps I'll die there...there's no place left to go...San Francis-co..." Remy sang. The image of Claire DuLac trying to cajole John Greycrow into dancing around the bonfire floated to the surface of his mind.
Hippy dippy bullshit.
Remy laughed; good times.
"Is this a...normal reaction?" Magneto asked.
Remy thought of Cecelia flashing the peace sign to Idie. "Everyone jump upon the peace train...," Remy murmured, his head dropping. The ferry pushed away from the dock and Remy's world canted to the side. He hated not being able to see where he was going, it always made him sick. "Eugh," he said. "You're harshin' my mellow, man."
As the ferry picked up speed Remy began to feel queasy. His mouth watered and he swallowed. He put his head between his knees.
"Should he be turning green?" Lopez asked.
The doctor looked at Magneto. "Perhaps you could locate a-bucket? Surely there's something in janitorial?"
Magneto looked at the doctor and responded with an incredulous: "Excuse me?"
"He usually has one..." Remy said to his feet. "On his head." He'd laugh if he didn't feel like his stomach was about to turn itself inside out.
If you swing yourself over the bar, you'll turn yourself inside out.
"If you would, please," the doctor said, brooking no argument. "Unless you enjoy wiping vomit from your shoes."
I like myself rightsides-in.
Magneto turned and exited the cabin.
Remy breathed in and out through his mouth. He was definitely going to be sick.
"Perhaps some air?" the doctor said to the guards.
They took Remy's arms and the doctor reopened the cabin door opposite from where Magneto had departed. Together they walked out into the night air. Remy drank in lungfuls of fresh air, felt the soft spray of water on his face. The doctor walked him to the railing. Remy looked out over the blue-black water as it sped past, the New York City skyline in the distance. Beyond that, the lightening of the sky that signaled dawn was approaching. That helped. Now he knew where he was going.
The sedatives weren't so bad, really. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling. At one point he'd wanted to feel this way all the time; calm...empty. This was how Carter Ryking spent the majority of his existence until his life had been cut short by Sinister's Cronos device; a machine that would have re-activated Sinister's DNA and personalty inside one of several selected mutants upon Sinister's death. What some people did for immortality, Remy thought. If you want to live forever, why don't you write a book, compose a song, or paint a masterpiece? Who'd want to actually be alive forever?
Remy passively watched as the railing was unlocked. It swung out on its hinges over the dark water, leaving nothing but empty space between Remy and the passing East River water.
It's more fun if you're on the edge.
Hm, Remy thought languidly while looking at the water, don't want to end up in there. He slowly slid his foot backwards until he felt a hand lightly touch his back. Remy dazedly turned and saw that the guards were several feet away, flanking either side of the cabin door. They were staring blankly into the distance, unresponsive. Remy then looked at the doctor who was standing very near. His name tag read: Dr. David.
Remy smiled at it before looking up into the doctor's eyes. "A new alias...Just for me?" The King of Spades, King David, had arrived just as Remy predicted.
"I imagined you would appreciate the reference," the doctor answered.
"You're so thoughtful. You never fail t'show up at de right time," Remy told him.
"I'm offering you this opportunity," the doctor said, gesturing out over the expanse of black water.
"Do you think that de angels will bear me up?" Remy asked him groggily.
"It is what you wanted, isn't it?" the doctor asked. "An escape?"
You need someone to push you.
"I never made it very far...wit'out a push," Remy told him.
Jump off when you get to the top. It's fun.
Remy plunged from the side of the ferry and the darkness rose up to meet him.
Hey, look how far I got.
Next time: The X-Men start putting the pieces together.
Notes: Remy and Rafey are speaking my closest approximation to Twin Speak that I could come up with based on the research I did. They don't have their own made-up words, but rank words in order of importance.
Remy and I both have very French-sounding names. I was once asked if my name was real. When I said yes, it was my real name, I was informed it sounded like a stripper's name. I told them my parents had high aspirations for me. My brother is trying to convince his wife to name their future son Remy LaFlamme, to which I say: YAY! Another stripper in the family!