What Someone is Willing to Give
By: Vainglorious696
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Disclaimer:
Gambit, the X-Men, Essex, and anybody else that you probably recognize is Marvel's. Sin, Dr. Kiltchner, Madeleine, and any
unfarmiliars are mine. Please don't sue me, Marvel- I'm poor. Besides, I spend
more $ on your comics than any lawsuit could possibly ever win.
This is a brutal story containing graphic violence, MATURE THEMES, and dark imagery. You have been warned, therefore, please use
your discretion accordingly. Thank
You.
~Vain
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Maddie was five minutes away
from the motel when she got the feeling. It began as a slight discomfort and then grew to anxiety. Something was wrong. Remy needed her.
You're being stupid, Maddie, she berated herself. Remy's fine, he's just resting.
It was a real effort not to try to touch his mind, but she was distinctly aware
from her previous contacts with him that he hated mental probes, and his
comfort was her biggest concern right now.
Remy…
What if he was hungry? What if he was
cold? What if he had gotten worse in
the few minutes she'd been gone? What
if he'd tried to get up or run away and had hurt himself?
Stop it, girl! You're just making
excuses to go back to him! It's only a
few more minutes to the store; he'll be fine…
But the fear didn't leave her; instead it steadily grew with every passing
minute. Terrible images began to pop
into her mind of Remy dying in that hideous little room. Of Essex coming to take his property
back. Of wild animals breaking in and
killing him. Of Eli returning to snatch
him away from her.
But Essex had yet to confirm that he knew of the boy's disappearance, wild
animals didn't just attack people, and Eli couldn't track either of their
signatures. In fact, Eli had no way of
finding them at all, unless he had somehow put a shadow on their back when they
left.
Or before they left. On their
backs. Like a little suture mark at the
base of the skull, not quite hidden by thick reddish hair. Too little for an operation, but just right
for a subcutaneous tracking device… Just right…
Oh my God! Remy! How could I have been so STUPID?!
Madeleine did an abrupt U-turn on the road so sharply that she nearly tipped
over.
Oh, god, Remy! Oh, god! She pressed down hard on the
gas, speeding up the hill at a dangerous pace. I'm coming! She nearly
sobbed in frustration as the road slid by far too slowly. I'm coming!
After what felt like eternity, she pulled back into the gravel parking lot and
shove the door open, nearly falling out of the car in her panic. She fought her seat belt for several frantic
moments before freeing herself and hurtling out of the car. Remy… She slammed her body into the door and added a strong telekinetic
push, knocking the cheap wood right off its frame. Remy's eyes fluttered open at the noise and frantic emotion
invading his senses.
Madeleine ran over to the bed, grabbed the semi-conscious Cajun's arm, and
bodily hauled him to his feet. "We
have to go, hon! We have to go
now!"
She struggled with him, trying to pull him to the door, when a strong male
voice made her blood freeze and her limbs turn to spaghetti. "Why? The party's just starting."
She knew that voice. It belonged to
Timothy, the head of Eli's mercenaries. She turned around slowly, careful to shield Remy's body with her own,
and looked down the ready and waiting barrel of a gun.
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