Open Eyes 2: Lost Soul
author: Lucinda
rating: pg, angst.
main character: Remy
sequel to Open Eyes.
disclaimer: Nobody from Marvel belongs to me.
distribution: please ask first.
note: post Antarctica, angsty
He sat there through the day, huddled near the fire, hoping to pull in enough warmth that he felt comfortable again. As the temperatures soared, finally crossing ninety, he stopped shivering, sighing in what could almost be mistaken for pleasure. He still crouched near the fire, the flickering flames casting ominous highlights over him, reflecting on his pale skin, a mottled mingling of peachy and grayish, a lingering sign of the killing cold of Antarctica.
"Hey man, you think you about thawed yet?" One of the men who'd helped dig the fire pit in the early hours of the morning, a some what worried college student who'd been trying to figure out the stranger almost sitting in the fire all day, spoke. His voice was nervous a sign of his certainty that something wasn't right with this man.
Remy looked up, his eyes pits of utter blackness, without white or gleam, darkness that swallowed up the firelight. "No... Remy still be cold. But maybe I starting to thaw out a bit."
Almost hesitantly, one of the other people, a young looking girl that might have been anywhere from fifteen to twenty, her tanned skin beaded with sweat and her sable hair falling in loose curls to her shoulders looked at him. "Oh.. your eyes. They're... empty."
He gave a small shrug. "Never been told they looked empty before... they always tell me got hellfire in my eyes."
"Dude... if that's the case, something put the fire out." The surfer looked as if he'd been washed and worn by the water, a study in gold and bronze.
"Maybe that's why I'm so cold then..." He reached out, the fire dancing over his hand for a few moments before he pulled it back, not wanting the blanket to burn.
"I thought..." This was one of the other people, a serious looking darker woman that reminded him a bit of a blend between Stormy and Betsy. "I thought the eyes were supposed to be the windows to the soul."
"I offered her everything... my life, my heart, my soul. She t'rew it all away, t'rew me away. Left me out in the cold..." Remy's words were soft, barely audible over the crackling of the fire. "I think... maybe de soul still back there, lost in the snow, feeling hurt and betrayed by her. Jus' a lost soul now..."
"That's harsh, man." The surfer spoke again, his voice carrying in the now quiet air.
"Are you sure that you shouldn't... maybe a doctor would do more good than a fire?" The girl again, looking distinctly uneasy.
"Non... no doctor. Everyt'ing still here, an' moves. Anything else will heal. If I can just stop feeling so cold... Never break up in de middle of howling snow. It can be very bad for you." Remy shuddered at the rippling surge of memories. Rogue, laughing, sleeping, shouting at him... endless vistas of ice, rock and snow, obscured by walls of falling snow and wind... an ice-shrouded coast, with a large boat.
"You look... not to healthy." The serious woman again, the guardian of the cold drinks.
"Remy be just a lost soul now... nobody cares about the lost souls. If dey cared... I wouldn't have been left there. Got nothing to go back too... jus' lost." Remy stared into the fire, not wanting to see everyone around him, their joy, their togetherness...
"Maybe it's time someone started to care." A man's voice. Remy couldn't even muster the interest to look at the speaker's face.
Remy gave a small smile, the expression oddly painful. "Long past time for someone to care. What if de next lost soul be someone you know? Your bother, your daughter... Who will be there for them? Who will help them back up when they fall..."
One of the men reached out, his hand brushing lightly over Remy's shoulder. "If we don't care, who will? You're right... But, maybe we can help you."
"Prob'ly not." Remy was still hunched near the fire, but now he looked at the people. "Some sorts of lost you never get over."
As Ben walked to his truck to get another bag of potato chips, he shook his hand, which felt cold and numb from where he'd rested it for such a brief period of time against Remy's shoulder. As if he'd put his hand on ice...
Remy stayed there, almost joining in the event. He passed things around, even had a bit of food himself, although he didn't drink any of the cold beer. He'd almost seemed to smile a few times.
In the morning, he was gone, the blanket in a depression near the fire. Ben was reminded uneasily of the ghost stories he'd heard as a child, of someone picking up a lonely hitch-hiker, only to learn their guest had been dead for years. He'd never believed such things possible... but Remy had looked so lost, so... hopeless. And how could a man be cold after spending the whole day next to a fire under the blistering ninety degree sun?
end Lost Soul.
author: Lucinda
rating: pg, angst.
main character: Remy
sequel to Open Eyes.
disclaimer: Nobody from Marvel belongs to me.
distribution: please ask first.
note: post Antarctica, angsty
He sat there through the day, huddled near the fire, hoping to pull in enough warmth that he felt comfortable again. As the temperatures soared, finally crossing ninety, he stopped shivering, sighing in what could almost be mistaken for pleasure. He still crouched near the fire, the flickering flames casting ominous highlights over him, reflecting on his pale skin, a mottled mingling of peachy and grayish, a lingering sign of the killing cold of Antarctica.
"Hey man, you think you about thawed yet?" One of the men who'd helped dig the fire pit in the early hours of the morning, a some what worried college student who'd been trying to figure out the stranger almost sitting in the fire all day, spoke. His voice was nervous a sign of his certainty that something wasn't right with this man.
Remy looked up, his eyes pits of utter blackness, without white or gleam, darkness that swallowed up the firelight. "No... Remy still be cold. But maybe I starting to thaw out a bit."
Almost hesitantly, one of the other people, a young looking girl that might have been anywhere from fifteen to twenty, her tanned skin beaded with sweat and her sable hair falling in loose curls to her shoulders looked at him. "Oh.. your eyes. They're... empty."
He gave a small shrug. "Never been told they looked empty before... they always tell me got hellfire in my eyes."
"Dude... if that's the case, something put the fire out." The surfer looked as if he'd been washed and worn by the water, a study in gold and bronze.
"Maybe that's why I'm so cold then..." He reached out, the fire dancing over his hand for a few moments before he pulled it back, not wanting the blanket to burn.
"I thought..." This was one of the other people, a serious looking darker woman that reminded him a bit of a blend between Stormy and Betsy. "I thought the eyes were supposed to be the windows to the soul."
"I offered her everything... my life, my heart, my soul. She t'rew it all away, t'rew me away. Left me out in the cold..." Remy's words were soft, barely audible over the crackling of the fire. "I think... maybe de soul still back there, lost in the snow, feeling hurt and betrayed by her. Jus' a lost soul now..."
"That's harsh, man." The surfer spoke again, his voice carrying in the now quiet air.
"Are you sure that you shouldn't... maybe a doctor would do more good than a fire?" The girl again, looking distinctly uneasy.
"Non... no doctor. Everyt'ing still here, an' moves. Anything else will heal. If I can just stop feeling so cold... Never break up in de middle of howling snow. It can be very bad for you." Remy shuddered at the rippling surge of memories. Rogue, laughing, sleeping, shouting at him... endless vistas of ice, rock and snow, obscured by walls of falling snow and wind... an ice-shrouded coast, with a large boat.
"You look... not to healthy." The serious woman again, the guardian of the cold drinks.
"Remy be just a lost soul now... nobody cares about the lost souls. If dey cared... I wouldn't have been left there. Got nothing to go back too... jus' lost." Remy stared into the fire, not wanting to see everyone around him, their joy, their togetherness...
"Maybe it's time someone started to care." A man's voice. Remy couldn't even muster the interest to look at the speaker's face.
Remy gave a small smile, the expression oddly painful. "Long past time for someone to care. What if de next lost soul be someone you know? Your bother, your daughter... Who will be there for them? Who will help them back up when they fall..."
One of the men reached out, his hand brushing lightly over Remy's shoulder. "If we don't care, who will? You're right... But, maybe we can help you."
"Prob'ly not." Remy was still hunched near the fire, but now he looked at the people. "Some sorts of lost you never get over."
As Ben walked to his truck to get another bag of potato chips, he shook his hand, which felt cold and numb from where he'd rested it for such a brief period of time against Remy's shoulder. As if he'd put his hand on ice...
Remy stayed there, almost joining in the event. He passed things around, even had a bit of food himself, although he didn't drink any of the cold beer. He'd almost seemed to smile a few times.
In the morning, he was gone, the blanket in a depression near the fire. Ben was reminded uneasily of the ghost stories he'd heard as a child, of someone picking up a lonely hitch-hiker, only to learn their guest had been dead for years. He'd never believed such things possible... but Remy had looked so lost, so... hopeless. And how could a man be cold after spending the whole day next to a fire under the blistering ninety degree sun?
end Lost Soul.