APOCALYPSE

For all useful information, such as summary, disclaimer, my own personal notes, or feedback instructions (hint, hint) see the prologue.
Author's notes (yet again): I made a slight change in dates. The first time I posted this (i.e yesterday) I set Remy's birth in 1970. Now it's 1975, and I added a small refference I'd forgoten to the prologue. I shouldn't have posted in such a haste. I know. I'm sorry. Besides, this site for some reason doesn't recognize some letters used in French. They came out as a weird O, so I'm pretending those letters don't exist. If you know French, use your imagination. And thanks so much for the people who reviewed. That was FAST! :)
CHAPTER THREE:

A COMPASS.

Morlocks laid dead or dying everywhere he looked. Faces of his past hovered around him chaotically. One moment he was in the tunnels, then he'd turn his head and he'd see Belladonna dying and then trying to kill him and Rogue. He would hear Genevieve laughing, then pleading for her life. Everyone who'd ever trusted him, he'd see hurt because of him by the hands of some psychotic bastard, or by himself. He looked around desperately, aware that this was just a dream, but unable to take it. After all, he WAS remembering. This things had happened. They weren't illusions.
"Je suis dèsolè." He whispered to himself, and started running.
"Coward!" someone shouted from all the mayhem around him, but he kept on running. His empathy would not give him a brake, not even on his dreams, and the mixture of emotion, anger, hate, sadism, pain and fear amongst others were making him feel he was loosing his mind. A few people came running after him, and he saw them crash against the wall by a mere look he'd given them from the corner of his eye. None had pushed them, and they had been plastered against the wall like bugs. It had been him. He'd willed it to happen.
He closed his eyes tightly and ran faster. Afraid of the dream, of himself and what was happening to him. When he opened them again, he saw that the settings of his dream had changed. At it was confusing to him, because he did not recognize the place. It was an alley. Perhaps an alley he'd seen in his youth, he thought. Living on the streets he'd seen his share of dark alleys. But this didn't look like New Orleans. The air smelled differently. How could he remember a place he'd never been to?
He stopped running; he just stood there, taking on his surroundings, trying to sort his thoughts. Then it hitted him. This wasn't his past, it was his future. He was mildly surprised; not enough though, everything in his life had taken a surreal turn. He was always waiting, he knew the time was upon him.
The phrase took a life on it's on, stopped being a random thought and became a sort of mantra.
It's time...it's time...it's time...
Like an echo on the deserted alley.
"Time for what?!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "What is Remy waitin' for?!!"

"You know, Remy..." a soft voice filled with kindness broke the echo and he spun around to look at the shadow behind him. It was a woman, but he couldn't see her face. Behind her stood another shadow, this one not so comforting. A huge figure of what he supposed had to be a man, dripping a kind of evil he couldn't begin to comprehend. The woman stepped closer and Remy felt a tenderness and undescribable love washing over him. And it surprised him greatly, because he knew it was his own.

"Cherie...help Remy...he don' know what's happenin'." The shadow nodded and spoke, her voice sweet and gentle.

"Stop running Remy. Face your destiny. It's time."

"What do I do? How do I face it?"

"The angels will guide you, my love. You'll know."

"De angès?"

"It's time Remy, wake up." Her contour became distorted, and behind her there wasn't just the tall, big guy, but an army of shadows. She turned her head, seemingly scared, if what he'd picked on her was right, and her eyes gleamed a bright golden light.

"They're coming Remy, it's time. Wake up!!" she yelled. The ones he'd been running from charged towards him and he was paralyzed by confusion and fear.

"Wake up Sugah! Remy? C'mon sugah, wake up!" the familiar voice startled him. He didn't know if it had come from the girl infront of him, but he was sure that hadn't been her voice. He felt something shaking him by his shoulder and the world begun dissolving around him.
He cracked his eyes open, one at a time, to be rewarded with two beautiful emerald spheres he'd learn to love and crave as the good thief he was, staring down at him in concern.

"Cherie...y' look worried about Remy, but mebbe I be to sleepy to tell. Why y' wake me so early in de mornin'?" Rogue laughed wholeheartedly, her worries slipping away.

"Early sugah?! It's noon! Yer amazing." She said sweetly.

"It's early as long as this Cajun feels so sleepy and drowsy, cherie." That being an understatement. His head hurt like never before, his mouth felt like sandpaper and his ears were hypersensitive. He ducked his head under his pillow and groaned.

"Want an aspirin Remy? Guess ya drank too much last night sugah, ye were havin' a nightmare. C'mon, Ah'll fix ya a nice breakfast...lunch, whateva. What do ya say?"
He just threw the pillow away, angrily, and Rogue stared at him startled.

"Fuck, Merde! I hate it!" he leaped from his bed and ran to the bathroom, with Rogue following him closely.

"Sugah, Remy, what's wrong?" he splashed water over his face, cursing in French and ignoring her.

"Nightmares, nightmares...tout le jours, tout le nuits! Remy's tired!" he glanced his eyes skywards and sighed, letting all the anger and the frustration wash away from him. Rogue frowned and then pushed him to the nearest wall, her face red with anger.

"Fuck ya Cajun! It's all me, me, me in yer head, isn't it? Ya didn't even ask me what Ah was doing 'ere!"
Remy stared at her wide eyed, understanding what was happening, and before he could stop himself, she was slamming against the opposite wall herself. Before it could get out of hand, and completely ignoring his internal voice that was yelling at him he'd just taken out Rogue, the strongest of the X-men, he'd rushed over to her side. Partly to cover himself, not letting her wonder what had hit her, and partly to calm her down as well as himself. He hugged her through the fabric of her sweater, and tried to send her the same calm and comfort he was trying to convey for himself. He ran a hand through her hair.
"Cherie, I'm so sorry." He smiled apologetically as she came around.
"What did ya do swamp rat?" she asked calmly, and he sighed in relief.
"Y' scared me, dat be all. I'm sorry I made y' mad. 'M a little selfish at times, non?" she looked down, and he felt her guilt. He pulled away a little and stiffened. "Rogue?" just then he remembered her words, what WAS she doing there? They weren't really an item anymore. Did she wanted them to get back together? A thought startled him. If that were the case, did HE wanted to get back together with her?
"Ah came 'ere to talk to ya, Remy." She fidgeted uncomfortably. "Ah needed to tell ya somethin', ye see?" she was afraid, he could feel it. Suddenly he could hear a whisper from the back of his mind, see flashes of scenes he'd never lived, and he cringed. Joseph. Rogue and Joseph, talking, holding hands, just being happy with each other's company...he shut the memories away. He didn't want to see what was next. But the whispers lingered.
'Ah'm so sorry, sugah, never meant to hurt ya like this...Ah do love ya...Ah don't know why Ah feel like this...Gawd!! how am Ah gonna tell ya!?'
On the outside, she was just mumbling and laughing nervously. He looked down, fighting back the tears.

"Cherie?" she stopped babbling and bit her lip.

"What sugah?"

"Je t'aime, y' know dat, don' y'?" she nodded. "Bien, mais I was t'inkin', and Remy needs time, he gets nervous, we been in a long relationship an' he ain' used to it. I was t'inkin'...well, y' an' Joseph...y' could...see where it goes. Being I'm so indecisive an' all..."

"Remy?" she said uncertain, and obviously relieved. He needn't be an empath to tell. "Whatcha talkin' 'bout sugah?"

"Not dat I'm saying I won' be jealous, but it's not fair to y' if I ask y' to be faithful when I not, n'est ce pas?" he ached inside, but he forced himself to look like a heartless bastard. He felt he'd hurt her and focused on comforting her sending her his love, even if he couldn't show her.

"Ya son of a bitch." She whispered, and just left without even looking at him.

"Je t'aime, mon coeur, toujours." He whispered back, knowing she couldn't hear him.
He walked back into his room, his mind a turmoil. As if something was trying to tell him he'd made his decision, the door of his closet opened and a duffel bag flew out, landing on his bed.

"Guess Remy know what to do, non?" he sighed sadly and begun packing.
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