1.1.1 Chapter 2

He could hear one of the other prisoners sing. It wasn't an unpleasant sound, the singer had a rather nice tenor, and knew the tune well enough to stay on it more than a few seconds. But it seemed to irritate one of the guards. Remy sighed to himself, silently. It was that evil man.

He who enjoyed beeing mean. The others were allright, considering that they had to do some things, but they tried to be nice...after all, this was the place few left other than with their feet first...But this one, he was downright mean. He had seen the type before. Even fought them. But that was before...They were like kids who tortured flies, just to watch them crawl around without their wings. Just to see what would happen next. The kind of person who'd turn a turtle on it's back, just to see if it could make it back on the right side, and if it did, if it could do it again...and again...He curled up on his narrow bed and tried to shut out the shoting that replaced the singing, and later, the screams. This wasn't right. It wasn't right at all. He wasn't supposed to die like this...

He sat up, sweating, stareing into the darkness. A quick look at the digital watch at the side of his bed told him that he had managed to sleep for almost half an hour since last time. Twenty minutes past one. He curled up where he sat, shivering and covering his face with his shaking hands.

"Merde...I mus' be goin' crazy..." he whispered, and tried to hold back the feelings of panic. He could remember the words he had heard earlier, could almost see them on the inside of his eyelids, burning brightly in his memory. And he knew where they came from. But why were they affecting him so deeply? Why was this affecting him at all?

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

Later the same night, someone knocked on his door. Another look at the watch. Ten past four.

"Oui?" he asked as he sub-conciously stretched towards his clothes. "Who's dere?" he added, as he quickly pulled on a pair of black trousers, and walked towards the door.

"Remy? Are you all right in there?" Kurt asked from the other side of the closed door. He sounded worried, and Remy cursed under his breath. He must have been making noise...screaming or something. He didn't like the idea of seeming wounerable. Ruffling his hair and quickly arranging his features into a sleepy but puzzled smile, he opened the door.

But he hadn't needed to bother. Kurt gave him just a sharp look, and then shook his head.

"You don't have to hide it for me, Remy. I know you have trouble."

Mildly shocked, but still determent to hide it, Remy blinked.

"Trouble?" he asked innocently. "I'm in trouble again? Merde, I wish people woul' start tellin' me firs' when dat happens..."

Kurt frowned at him, apparently not pleased that he was trying to joke it all away.

"I appreciate de concern, mon ami," Remy added quickly, "but dere is nothin' for you to worry 'bout. Je jurer."

With a sigh, Kurt shook his head, but left him alone.

"If you say so, Remy. If you say so."

Then he was alone again. He held back an impulse to call Kurt back, and tell him...tell him what? That he was going crazy, but no need to worry, he'd soon be mad enough to kill himself? Or get himself killed in a session or on a mission? He sighed, and the impulse faded. He couldn't. He had to solve this on his own. He returned to his bed and hoped for a couple of hours sleep.

"Okey people, heads up. Today we need to work a little more on that ol' teamspirit, we are starting to break up all to much, fight as..." Scott droned on, and Remy sighed silently, letting his face take a 'listening' expression, as he tried to concentrate on staying on his feet. Last night hadn't given much more sleep, and it was starting to tear on him. He suddenly felt an elbow in his side, and started. Looking down, suprisedly, he met Marrows glare.

"Don't fall on your face already, cajun. I want the chance to beat you up first." she hissed, barley audiable in Scotts lecture. Remy blinked, and tried to clear his head. Beat him up? Was it her sense of humour again? He wasn't really sure when it came to Marrow. After she had found out about him being the leader of the Marauders during the Morlock Massacre, she hated him...she had seemed to come to terms with him being around, but she didn't like him anymore just because they had to fight togeather. The fog in his mind slowly cleared, as he could start to concentrate on what Scott said again.

"...and we, both I and the professor, trust you to be careful now, and fight togeather in the teams we have set up. But remember, we're not starting this out on any old level 1 today, we're right up there with a level 5." That seemed to conclude it, and people divided into two teams. Kurt made a discrete gesture towards Remy, motioning him towards his group, and he couldn't do much else than follow with a thankful nod.

It was an old nightmare. It had haunted him many times, more than he could remember. He was young, and had helped his cousin during his initiation into the Thieve's Guild...but they had been captured, and Entienne had died during the escape. Even if his death had been avenged, Remy still kept on dreaming about that horrible day when they had tried to escape from Pig's pen. The first time he could remember that he had loaded a card with the kinetic energy he could concentrate, and thrown it at Pig himself...taking the toll of an eye, losing his cousin and best friend.

But this time, the dream had changed. He hadn't been able to save his cousin when he fell towards the sea, but now, in the dream, he wasn't even able to save himself. He landed, without knowing or careing how he survived such a fall, on a cliff, with a black shape over him. He was shaking, not even trying to defend himself, but the shape stabbed him with what seemed to be a bone dagger, over and over again. He cried, could feel the salty wetness of tears on his lips, as he whispered, pleaded, screamed.

"I tried to take it back...but it was too late!"

As he yelled it out, one last time, he caught the face of his attacker. Marrow. She was laughing at his words, laughing bitterly.

"Liar! You killed us all! You killed me!" she replied, as she cut his throat with her sharp, white dagger. Warm blood gushed out over his chest, and he coughed, couldn't breathe, fought to get a hold of her, but couldn't even lift his hands...the darkness came over him, and...

He sat up, gasping. A dream. Again, another dream. His heart raced, pounding quickly as he steadied himself. Throwing a glance at the watch on his wrist didn't make him feel any better. Half past ten! There was still more than enough night left to make him relive that dream more than once...Sighing, he got up and dressed up in his battle gear. He had to do something...if nothing else, he had to stay awake.

The Danger Room was silent and abandoned. The others would keep away, now that Scott was having one of his 'moods', when the days were filled with sessions and battle training, not to mention all those happy little comments that would make them into a 'mean, lean team'.

But Remy couldn't stay away. There were something nagging on his mind. He had dreamt about Marrow, and he knew that it was his concience that had triggered the dream. Perhaps all of the other dreams aswell? The words fitted in perfectly. He had tried to stop them, to 'take it back'...but it was too late, and he couldn't fight them. He had been too weak. So he had just been able to save a child, that he had taken in his arms. Not that it mattered, she and the other morlocks hated him. Because he had been stupid, or evil, enough to work for Sinister, togeather with Sabretooth, amongst others. He had been a Marauder. He couldn't make that undone. But he could try to take it back...