(Just a note to answer a question that's been coming up: This story takes place right after the Operation: Zero Tolerance story line in the X-Men comic books. This means that Scott and Jean are up in Alaska right now taking a leave of absence so Scott can recover from his injuries during Zero Tolerance. The Professor is still missing, as he has been since the earlier Onslaught story line of the X-books. Sorry if anyone was confused. Unless you keep up with the comics, this might not make much sense. Oh yeah, and Jubilee hasn't been a member of the X-Men since joining Generation X many moons ago. Hope this helps. J )
Part 7
Remy's steps made no noise on the sleek metal floors, and his breaths came silently as he walked down the hall to the medlab. Simply waiting for Beast to come give the X-Men an update had become old hours ago and now it had reached the point where it was unbearable. He was going to have answers, even if it took spying to get them.
Remy stopped in front of the heavy gray door that was tightly shut. He pressed his ear against it but even his highly trained thief hearing could detect nothing. Unconsciously, his fists balled in frustration at his sides. There wouldn't be any other way to get inside of the lab besides this door, and he certainly couldn't find out anything from outside. Remy brought his hand up to rub the usual bristle of hair on his chin, a thoughtful expression on his face. He could pick the lock... or he could just knock. Well if he wanted to get on Henry's good side he should probably do the latter. Hesitantly lifting his fist, Remy banged on the metallic surface. The noise echoed hollowly in the empty hall.
It took a few moments before the door opened to reveal the Beast... or what used to be the Beast. Remy had to hide an expression of shock as he stared at the figure before him, but he was willing to bet that Hank had seen the surprise on his face before he was able to get his guard up. The blue fur was almost all gone now, having fallen off to reveal red, tender skin that looked as if it had been badly burned, or maybe just newly healed after a severe wound. He seemed to have shrunk a bit too, not quite so massive and muscular, though still formidable. His hands and feet were smaller... more proportioned to his body.
The clear blue eyes stared at Remy intently, a hard edge almost drowning out the normal kind and paternal glow that resided there. The long fangs were no more, and the thin lips were turned slightly downward. Remy found himself staring at a stranger, and not only because of the altered physical appearance. This wasn't the bubbly, bouncing Beast he knew. This was Dr. Henry McCoy trying his best to save lives.
"Can I help you? Lost perhaps?" The words were clear and precise, speech no longer hindered by overgrown canines. There was also a note of annoyance there. The doctor did not want to be disturbed right now. He was no doubt incredibly busy at the moment.
The cold exterior put Remy slightly off-guard and it took him a moment to adjust. The familiarity of the detached distance that occupied Henry's countenance was unnerving. It was the same countenance Remy put on for a thieving job. When one pushed all emotional attachments away replacing them with hard, effective, knowledge, skill, and logic. When one stopped being human for a while so that humanity could not get in the way of the goal. To see Henry forcing himself into such a state meant that things were very bad.
"Non, not lost." He returned Henry's gaze steadily.
A melodramatic sigh preceded the next words. "Of course not, things never are quite that simple. You want to know the status of your comrades I suspect."
"Oui."
Another sigh. The hard mask cracked slightly to show a glimpse of the Henry Remy knew. A tired, worn-out expression flickered across the features before it was swallowed up in the pretense of professionalism.
"Unfortunately the answer is not good. I was planning on making a quick sojourn upstairs to give the remainder of the team an update, but I suppose it would not hurt to tell you now." He seemed to take a moment to collect himself and prepare for his next words before he continued. "Apparently our X-Factor genes have been manipulated somehow, negating our powers. The change appears to be on the sub-molecular level. Needless to say this is not anything akin to a Genoshan slave collar.
"As a result our bodies are being forced to compensate for some very profound changes in our physiology and in some instances they are simply not capable. A case in point being Maggot. Do you remember those two unappealing slugs that used to follow him around?"
Remy nodded slightly. He vaguely recalled seeing them and remembered Storm telling him about them on his first day back.
"They are interconnected directly with Maggot's digestive system. Through a sort of bond that they shared he was able to draw energy from the food they ate. He has no digestive system in a conventional sense. Those slugs performed the job of the normal stomach, liver, intestines, etc. But since the suppression of our mutant abilities they have disappeared, assumedly dead. In laymen's terms, Maggot is starving to death, though the exact process is much more complicated than that.
"Warren is a bit more stable, but by no means in good condition. The cells in his wings are slowly being consumed by gangrene. In effect, his wings are dying. I'm considering amputation, but am holding off as long as I can."
He paused taking stock of Remy's tightly masked expression. As if considering not continuing with the harsh, grim details. Remy managed to look composed despite the growing sick terror inside him. The doctor had yet to mention Sara or Storm. As if on cue, Henry continued his solemn account.
"Dr. Reyes and I have recently finished surgery on Marrow. Sara's injuries are a bit of a mystery to me, partly because I do not completely understand how her powers normally function. My best guess is that there are two components to her abilities. One is the production of the bones we have come to identify with her, but there is also some kind of durability, and resistance that her body possesses. Despite the fact that bones poked through obscure places on a regular basis, no arteries or organs were ever pierced or damaged. I account this to an increased strength that these normally delicate parts possessed which made them impenetrable. The best theory I can come up with is that this aspect of her power was negated first, allowing the usually harmless bones to cause internal bleeding and damage before the bones themselves stopped growing. She's stable now... though she's lost a lot of blood. I don't know how much permanent damage may have been done."
Remy couldn't hide the terror on his face now. Though Henry never said it, Remy got the distinct impression that he was not even sure if Sara would ever even wake up. The older man's head tilted slightly in concern at the sudden paleness of the other's skin. "Do you want me to continue?"
"Yah." Remy managed weakly.
"Storm's injuries were the only ones that were not directly caused by the absence of her mutant powers. She was flying when it happened and her trauma is a result of the fall. I won't go into the details. Suffice it to say her condition is very tenuous and despite surgery and medical aid, I cannot be sure how she will progress."
Once again Remy caught the hint. Stormy might die. He forced the sick feeling down and carefully constructed some semblance of control around the raging torrent of fear, worry, and desperation within him. "Can I see dem?" His words came out somewhat normal sounding, though a bit shaky.
Henry regarded him for a moment, giving him an evaluating stare. "I suppose it could only help at this point to have somebody familiar nearby," he said finally. "But if you end up being a disturbance I will have to ask you to leave." Remy nodded in understanding. "I'm going to go inform the rest of the X-Men of what I've told you. Dr. Reyes is in charge while I am gone."
"Oui, I got it."
Henry seemed satisfied by that and looked about to move past Remy through the door when he stopped. Tilting his head he gave the young man a quizzical look. "Well, I guess that answers that question. I always had wondered what your eyes would look like had you not been born a mutant."
Remy stared at him, confused for a moment. "M' eyes?"
"You didn't expect them to remain red-on-black once your mutant gene was suppressed did you?"
It suddenly made excruciatingly obvious sense. He had noticed the world looked... well, different since he'd woken up on the roof, but he hadn't been able to put his finger on the exact change. And with everything else on his mind he hadn't given it much thought. Now he noticed why everything seemed so strange. Colors were less washed out; they looked brighter. His eyes were collecting less light than usual. He'd been born with a unique eye structure that could be attributed to his mutant abilities. It allowed enhanced night vision and let him detect some wavelengths of light out of the normal human spectrum. Remy was struck by the thought that he would be just as susceptible to the dark as anybody else now.
"What color are dey?" he asked, the thought suddenly occurring to him.
"A rather pleasant shade of russet."
"Huh?"
"Brown."
Henry actually smiled slightly, despite everything, at the bewildered, awe-struck look on Remy's face. He was Diablo Blanc no more. Though having red eyes could be advantageous at times, especially in his normal line of work where intimidation could mean everything, he had often wondered what it would be like to be like most humans. Not to have to hide behind sunglasses in fear that someone would discover he was a mutant, not to have to endure the prophecies of the Thief's Guild that condemned him as a devil, not to look in the mirror and wonder if they were true. He was free of all that. He was normal. And being normal may have cost Ororo and Sarah their lives.
Hank seemed to sense Remy's preoccupation with his fallen teammates and decided that it was time to leave. Pushing past into the hall, the echoing of his steps soon faded away into the lift. Remy stood there a moment longer taking a deep breath to mentally prepare himself. Then he entered the room.
Inside were three beds and one makeshift pad of blankets on the floor that supported Maggot. All of the patients were unconscious, except for Warren, who lay on his side much the same way as when Remy last seen him. His eyes were open and he seemed to be staring at an empty spot on the floor. He glanced up when Remy came in and gave a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgement, but nothing more. Remy figured that was the best he was going to get from the winged Angel after what he knew of Remy's involvement in the Morlock Massacre and the loss of his first set of wings. But it was enough; at least Warren was willing to tolerate him.
Sara and Storm lay side by side on separate beds. Both were covered in bandages and a white sheet that extended up to below their shoulders. Both were unconscious. Dr. Cecilia Reyes was busy over Storm, stethoscope pressed to the injured woman's chest. Noticing Remy, she quickly finished her cursory exam, moving to take care of Maggot on the other side of the room and to provide Remy with at least a guise of privacy. After a moment's hesitation he decided to go to Sara first. He still didn't feel ready to face Storm.
Sara looked deathly pale, her face relaxed and expressionless. She almost looked dead. But as he reached beneath the sheet and took her hand in his he could feel the soft beat of her pulse beneath the skin. Gently he pushed some of the reddish-pink hair out of her eyes, smoothing in back with great care. A large bandage stretched across her chest above the blanket, it's mesh fabric pulled tightly. He tried not to wonder about the wound it covered.
Swallowing, he managed to find his voice. "Bonjour, petite."
Silence. He watched her for a moment, wondering what to say, finally he chose to simply depend on what he felt to guide him.
"...I know I done y' wrong in de past... but I promise dat I won' let anyt'ing hurt y' no more. Whoever's responsible for dis is gonna pay. I make sure o' dat." He gave her hand a squeeze and then released it. "Girl, y' seen more terrible t'ings in your life than should ever be allowed. ...An'... I'm sorry f' all de pain I caused you. ....I been sorry... every moment since dat night in de tunnels." He gazed at her unresponsive face. So young, and yet hardened beyond the point of most experienced criminals. He patted her hand gently and turned away.
Storm lay only a few steps away, but those steps seemed like an infinite, impenetrable distance. Forcing himself to walk, eventually he stood over her, looking down at the once majestic Ororo Munroe. He was unprepared for the feelings she evoked, pain, despair, yearning... How had that little child with whom he was a thief come to mean so much to him?
Her eyelids were shut tight and he found himself wishing to see those clear blue eyes, sometimes white when her powers were active, contrasting with the smooth dark chocolate skin that made her look so exotic. But he was left to only remember them and envision their friendly compassion in his mind.
Her hair was pushed back from her face by a thick bandage that spanned her forehead. The long, silver locks fell in tangled strings across the edge of the bed and he found himself running his hands through them, trying to get the knots out. Even wounded and broken as she was she was still beautiful. The kind of regal creature that existed only in fairy tales and legends, too awe-inspiring to be real.
He unconsciously reached for her hand beneath the blanket and was startled to find something hard and rigid in its place... a cast. He pulled his hand back, bringing in up to cup her cheek instead. The skin lacked a certain glow and was a bit colder than it should have been. Something in the back of his mind mused on that and decided she was probably in shock.
The silence felt awkward, oppressive, and Remy suddenly felt the inexplicable need to fill it.
"Hey, Stormy," he whispered, his voice raspy. He waited, half-expecting her to suddenly sit up and return his greeting.
She didn't.
"Y' know if y' really wanted to take a break from leadin' de X-Men, dere were much better ways to go 'bout doin' it. Ever hear of paid vacations? Oh wait we don' get paid..." The joke was an attempt to lighten the tension he felt tightening around him. It failed miserably, sounding hollow and cruel. His own clumsiness and lack of grace felt like a knife stabbing his heart.
Finally he released a ragged sigh of frustration. "...'m sorry Stormy. Never was much good at dis stuff."
She didn't reply, didn't react.
"I don' know if y' can hear me. Suppose it doesn' much matter, but... I don' remember ever havin' a friend like y'. De day I met y' was de luckiest day o' m' life, cherie. It scares me ta think o' de man I might've become wit'out you. Y' always been dere f' me, 'Roro. An' y' believed in me even though I never did... I always t'ought y' were somethin' special. Often wondered if y' weren' a goddess. Sure coulda fooled me."
On some dim level he was aware of Warren and Cecilia listening to him, and was self-conscious because of it. But he needed to talk too badly. He'd kept his feelings from her so often, kept his feelings from everybody. She deserved better than that. He owed it to her to let her know how much he cared about her, even if she was oblivious and only he could hear it.
"I been doin' a lot o' thinkin'... Scary, huh? Well, after de... Trial, I regretted ever joinin' de X-Men f' a while. T'ought it caused me more pain den it was worth. But even t'ough I can't say I ain't a little bitter, I don' t'ink I would change t'ings. I only stayed wit' de X-Men in de first place t' make sure y' were okay. I mean, a house full o' people runnin' around in brightly colored spandex don' come across as de safest, sanest bunch dere is. Never expected to learn everyt'ing I did, t' change so much. An' I owe dat all t' y'. Not saying I belong here, dat I really am meant t' be a X-Man, I jus' sayin' dat I'm a better person because o' dem... an because o' you."
He brushed her cheek gently, as he watched her, eyes glazing over in the memories of the times they'd shared. He was startled to realize how much he loved this woman. It was platonic, of course, he'd known her as a child and somehow that made a romantic relationship a bit awkward. There had never been that original attraction because of the original age difference. And by the time she had been returned to her adult form, the non-romantic friendship had already been well established. Maybe if they had met under different circumstances... But he didn't need another lover; he'd had enough of those in the past. What he needed was a friend.
It struck him that he would gladly give his life for this woman. Remy LeBeau, notorious for looking out for himself, was willing to give all for another if need be. That had been happening a lot since the X-Men. Somehow a kind of nobility he hadn't known he possessed had made itself prominent, and it still amazed him at times.
Earnestly, selflessly, he bent and kissed her softly. The full lips were warm beneath his, though unresponsive. Still he found the little spark of life there encouraging. Lifting his head slowly, he gazed at her face. "T'ank y', ma cherie. F' everyt'ing... An' I promise y' like I did Sara, dat I gonna make de person responsible for dis," he gestured with one hand at her injured form, "pay. Dearly." With one last caress of her cheek he straightened fully and turned. Warren and Cecilia self-consciously flicked their gazes away from him, returning to their previous activities as if they hadn't been listening. Cecilia went back to tending to Maggot and Warren resumed staring at the floor. Remy might have found them amusing had he not had so much emotion and resolve churning through him.
He would find the one responsible for this.
And he would make that person sorry.