A/N : Yeah, I got more reviews!!! Anyway, here's the latest addition. Hope
you like the way the story is going. Anyway pls R n R.
Remembrance
Scott Summers stood before the other Prelates, ten Uber-leutnants, and thirty commanders. They were standing before him, in order of Rank. The Prelates stood closest to him, at attention, behind which were the Uber- leutnants, behind which stood the commanders. He stood on a slightly elevated dais, and behind him was an even higher platform on which all The Externals stood. The orders he was going to give now had come from Apocalypse himself.
"I have summoned you tell you that the recent rebel break in must never happen again. That I am sure is clear to all of you. To stop this, all entries into the Tower must be found and blocked. Apart from that all guards and mutant units must be vetted. This means that all mutant units will be sent to Dr. McCoy. He will administer to them. As for all the guards, The External Exodus will be performing a psychic scan on them. In this manner, all spies and traitors will be found. New shifts will also be assigned. Each floor must now have at least ten guards and half a mutant unit. In this manner, all the floors will be well-enough protected so that no rebel, or anyone else for that matter, can attack the inside easily. There will also be one commander posted for every floor. Hence all thirty of the commander here will be on one floor, to relay orders quickly and efficiently. The events of a few hours ago will never be repeated again, not as long as I'm High Prelate. You are dismissed."
The commander and Uber-leutnants walked out. The Prelates stood at ease, as Scott turned to the Externals.
"Very nicely done, High Prelate Summers. You have shown that you are able to command."
Candra smiled at Scott, and then turned and walked out. The rest of the Externals walked after her, except Sinister.
"Scott, you must question the rebel that was captured. Again you must find out about them. She was Xavier's protégé, and an important member of the X- men. She would know a lot about them. You must extract that information from her."
Scott bowed, and Sinister turned and left.
He then turned, and smiled at the Prelates. They immediately relaxed. Of them all only Sylvia was missing. She had not recovered from her injuries, in fact Cecilia had not sounded hopeful of her being able to perform her Prelate duties for at least a week. Scott had felt responsible for her hurt, but Sylvia had jokingly told him not to feel responsible. It wasn't his fault, she had claimed. Scott knew better, and he intended to make it up to her, and the others.
"You are free for the rest of the day, enjoy it. The next few days are going to be hell."
Scott sat in his room, sipping bourbon. The liquor burned down his throat, and he sighed with satisfaction as he sat the glass down. He had put away his armor and cape, and was dressed in only a black tunic and grey pants now. He had ordered Phoenix to his room. He intended to draw out all the secrets about the X-men. It would be even more difficult than Psylocke had been, but Scott always relished a challenge. Jean Grey, that was her name. It seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it. Perhaps he would find out when he met her.
Jean followed the guards sullenly. She had woken up in a containment unit, something she had not expected to happen. She wondered if any others had been captured, but had been relieved to find no one else had. Unless the guards were lying, though that didn't seem likely. She could not use her powers, and that was one of the things that had most scared her. Still, now she had been summoned by The High Prelate himself. No reason had been given, just that she had been summoned. She knew that he was a dangerous man, she had been impressed by him both of the times she had seen him.
The guards led her to a door, guarded by two sentries. They moved aside, and the guard pressed a button. The door opened a few seconds later, and Jean was escorted into Cyclops's lair. It was different from what she expected. Looking around the plush, inviting room, Jean had to admit that she was surprised. The High Prelate was sitting in a chair that faced the entrance. Jean had to take a double take when she saw him. The two times she had seen him, he had been dressed in his uniform. Now he wore a black tunic, open halfway down the front, and grey pants. His eyes were not covered by a visor, but thin ruby colored glasses. He looked, for want of a better word, nice. The red glasses did give him the quality of a punk rocker though. He was classically handsome, with a straight nose, and high cheekbones, and a squared chin. His jaw had slight stubble, and his hair was wet, hanging down to his eyebrows. He looked as sexy as sin to boot. Jean dragged her eyes away from his exposed chest. She looked into his eyes, or where she expected his eyes would be, behind those glasses. He was looking towards her. Then he raised his hand, and the guard behind left, the door closing behind him.
"Welcome Miss Grey. Please make yourself at home, have a seat."
Jean looked at him wearily, then finding no reason to stand, she flopped into the proffered chair.
"Would you like a drink? I only have bourbon and sherry. You know how hard it is to get decent liquor these days."
Why was he acting so nice? Jean had no clue, but she would play his game if he wanted.
"Oh Sherry will be fine, and it's Jean."
"You must call me Scott of course."
Scott? She had not expected him to have a name so ordinary. Funny how that name sent memories spiraling through her. A young boy, by the riverbank, and a young girl with him, talking nicely. Then the near kiss, something she had been surprised by as she had met him only minutes before. Then HE had come, and killed the boy. Jean felt the sudden anger in her, and the sadness. She shook her head quickly to rid her of the memories. She thought she had gotten over that. Seems she hadn't.
Scott was looking at her curiously. She realized that she must have looked strange.
"What's the matter?"
She looked up at him, as he handed her the glass of Sherry.
"Oh nothing, your name reminded me of another Scott I knew, a long time ago."
He smiled, and Jean felt her heart flutter.
*Damn it Jean, stop that, this is the goddamn enemy!* She frowned, but quickly cleared her face, in case Scott noticed. She suddenly remembered what Xavier had said.
('He is an honorable man. The X-men could use him. He will not stay with Apocalypse. Jean, you must convince him-'.)
That had been the last thing he had said to her. Before Scott had killed him. The anger returned with the memory.
"You know that I would like to kill you, and if possible would have done so by now."
Jean said it almost conversationally.
Scott didn't even flinch, didn't even stop sipping his drink. He then put the glass down.
"I know. I also know that you'd prefer to talk to me than to Dark Beast or one of the Externals. If you would like, I could arrange a meeting between you and Dark Beast."
Jean nearly paled at the thought of Dark Beast. She had heard rumors, but had discounted over half of them. The other half, were still enough to make her grip the chair arms tightly, just for a moment. He had noticed, and smiled, stretching back.
"I see we are in agreement about what should be done at least as far as Dark Beast is concerned."
Jean refused to answer. He had her in his grasp and would not be letting go anytime soon. Jean was sure of that. She looked away from his glasses, and read the name on the award on the mantle. Scott Summers. Brown hair, lean features, straight nose, squared chin. Her boy. From the past, in the flesh, right in front of her, not dead, The High Prelate.
"You. you are Scott Summers?"
He stared at her.
"Yes. What is my name to you?"
She leaned back in her chair and shuddered. The young boy, who she had loved, at first sight, was her enemy. Then, *Sinister! Sinister did this to him!*
"You're Scott Summers?"
He looked irritated this time.
"Yes woman, how many times should I tell you?"
"You don't remember me?"
Scott looked at her strangely. What was this woman saying? Remember her; he had never seen her before the fight when he killed Xavier. no that wasn't right. He had seen her before, a long time ago. But he couldn't remember when he had seen her. She did remind him of something though. He remembered swans.
"I do not think I have ever seen you before. but, for some reason you remind me of swans."
Jeans heart leapt into her throat when he said that. He was her Scott. Her Scott? No he wasn't hers. He would never be hers. He was an enemy, and she had Logan anyway. Still she couldn't stop herself from looking at him. The young boy she remembered was still very much there. She could tell, but the man was there too. A very dangerous man.
"Why do you remind me of swans?"
The question was so bluntly put that Jean was taken aback, and she answered.
"That's because that's where we met, thirteen years ago, by the swan lakes, two kilometers from here."
Scott suddenly remembered, with amazing clarity. Something had broke in him with those words, and he remembered. The lake, his headaches and flashes, the redheaded girl with flowers in her hair, the swans, the feel of her in his arms so right and true. Then he remembered Sinister. The needle, and what had happened after. Scott himself had put the block on the memories, in hopelessness.
He rose suddenly, so fast that Jean flinched. He went and poured another glass for himself, then drained it in one go. He put the glass down, and clenched his eyes tightly shut.
Jean stared at him a moment, when he moved again, and pressed a button. The door opened and the guard came in.
"Take her back to the containment area. No, wait. Take her to Dr. Cecilia Reyes."
He wrote something on a paper, then handed it to the guard.
"Give Dr. Reyes this note. After that follow Dr. Reyes orders."
The guard saluted and then grabbed her by the arm.
"Gently Mobhan." Scott chastised.
The guard looked surprised, then held her gingerly and took her out of the room. Out of the corner of the room, Jean saw him sink in the chair, head in his hands. She was surprised, that was for sure. She had not expected such a reaction from him.
As she was led down the hall, Jean wondered who Dr. Reyes was.
Visions ran through Scotts head. Jeans statement had unlocked a part of his memories he had kept sealed, perhaps with help. Like a surrealistic experience, he remembered. He remembered the one month of his life that had before been blank. He had never questioned why he didn't remember it as he didn't remember every year of his life. Now though, he remembered. After Sinister pierced him with the needle, he had been brought to Sinisters lab. He had been confined there, for nearly a month. Sinister had feverishly developed glasses for him, testing every material he could. When he realized Scotts headaches weren't returning, three days after being confined, he realized that it must be the sun powering him. He had opened a vent in the roof, and stood Scott below it. Then he had made glasses made of Ruby Quartz. These had held back what Sinister had guessed was coming. Since he wore the glasses nearly all the time, to ease his headaches, Scott was surprised, when he once took off his glasses, that a beam of pure red energy had shot from his eyes and burned a hole in the wall. Sinister had been furious, and Scott had realized that he would need to wear the glasses forever, or risk killing everyone and everything around him.
Sinister had performed experiments on him in that time. He had injected thin needles into his head, so thin that Scott could barely see them. These needles had been hooked up to a whole bizarre set of computers and chemicals.
The pain that had followed had been the most excruciating Scott had felt in his entire life.
Apparently nothing good came of the experiments, as after each Sinister would shake his head and frown. Then had come the helmet and glasses in them. It had not been as painful as the needles, but soon Scott had come to dread it more than the needles. It provided no physical pain, but the mental agonies unleashed were more than he could bear. He had been forced to relive all the moments of his life he had felt the most extreme emotions. A side effect, Sinister had said, but the anguish compounded on anguish Scott had gone through were almost more than he could bear. He had seen his parents killed again, his home destroyed, his first meeting with Apocalypse, his meeting with Jean Grey, and the needles. The hate he held for them, made it so that he was forced to relive the pain. All of it had come back to him, every day he wore the helmets. When finally Sinister had destroyed them, Scott had wept for sheer relief. It was then that Sinister had begun developing the visor. It had taken Scott one week to master its usage. He had then trained himself. The first step in his disciplining himself had been to ask Sinister to erase all memory of what had happened in the laboratory. When Sinister told him that was impossible, Scott had tried the next best thing. He had put the strongest mental block on it that he could muster, and then asked the Dark Beast to make it hold, instead of him holding it. He had gone in wrapped so tight, that he might have exploded. He had also blocked all memories of his parents death, and Jean Grey. Once that was done, he had become what he was. A cold, emotionless man, even though he never lost his basic traits, that of honor, and righteousness. Scott had always been moral, ethic and principled. That had started the sequence of events that led to his becoming the youngest Prelate ever two years after being promoted to Uber-leutnant when he was sixteen, and then High Prelate four years later. He had been High Prelate for five years now.
Scott held the edge of the table, his grip on composure fast fading. The memories cycled through his head, again, and again.
His parents.
Apocalypse.
Jean Grey.
The needles.
The helmet.
Again and again and again, until it all become a whirlpool of memories, flowing round and round in his head, until he was screaming.
Jean was again surprised at the infirmary. It was like most infirmary's she had seen, though the one at the X-quarters and Muir Isle had been at a far greater scale. Yet this seemed to be an infirmary only, no sign of any laboratory type apparatus was around. Apart from that the place had a nice homely atmosphere, and Jean felt at ease in the surroundings.
The doctor turned out to be pleasant surprise as well. She was a short woman of middle years, with a smiling face. She had a paternal air around her, and Jean felt even more at ease.
"Why has she been brought here?"
The question was abrupt and to the point. The guard simply stated that it was the High Prelates orders and handed her the note. She dismissed the guard and started reading the note, muttering about how the High Prelate had begun to think of himself too high and needed some spanking. Jean nearly burst out laughing when she heard her. She couldn't imagine this woman spanking Scott. The sharp look she received for her small snort was enough to dispel that notion. The doctor was fierce, that was obvious.
"So it seems Scott wants you checked up.. Hmm. all right sit down."
The doctor checked her quickly and efficiently, frowning and muttering when she examined her arms.
"You need to get these arms in shape. The muscles are in bad shape. A little de-tox should do it."
Before Jean could do anything she was marched into a room by the elbow, and then two nurses dumped her into a tank. It was sealed and filled with liquid. At first Jean nearly panicked, but then a warm glow suffused her, and she went limp. A few minutes later she was being pulled out of the tank, and robed. Then she was stripped by the doctor, who then smilingly declared her in tip top shape. She was then clothed in regulation clothes. Jean was a bit shocked; the Infirmary had a very good de-tox tank, which did the work their own at Muir Isle did in half the time. As she walked out of the changing room, she noticed a woman lying in a bed, her hands totally bandaged, and her head also partially bandaged.
"Who's that?"
The doctor looked at her.
"That is Sylvia Ferguson, the Prelate Lumina. She was grievously injured during the battle against you and your compatriots. She'll be in here for a week more, as her injuries were horrible, no thanks to you."
Jean looked at the doctor warily. The doctor noticed, and laughed.
"Oh, don't be afraid of me dear. I won't hurt you, even if you hurt little Sylvia. You did what you had to. Her getting hurt wasn't even your fault, it was really an accident. Scott and the feral companion of yours sparked off a fire extinguisher during their fight, and the air bursting out of it disturbed the balance of the molecules around Sylvia."
Jean looked surprised again. The doctor seemed to be very well informed about the battle.
The doctor again noticed and smiled.
"You're wondering what a two bit doctor is doing knowing all this. Well Scott came in here to apologize to Sylvia, as he blames himself for her condition, that silly boy. He told me, and the other Prelates also told me a bit about their fight. Alex was really proud, the little monkey, as was Lorna, about being the only ones, apart from Scott, to have seen the Master himself. So you're Jean are you? Jean Grey. the name's familiar. Hmm. anyway, I'm Doctor Cecilia Reyes, but you're welcome to call me Cecilia. How is Scott doing? I was worried he might take too much responsibility on himself."
Jean couldn't help laughing, the mental image she had of Cecilia in a mothering hen type of role, especially over the Prelates and the High Prelate, came out very incongruous. Cecilia smiled back at Jean, knowing exactly what the young X-woman must have thought.
"So my dear tell me about yourself, before the guards come back. I want to know all about you, and don't worry, I won't tell anyone what you told me. They can do their own questioning."
To her great surprise Jean found herself telling Cecilia about herself.
Cecilia felt good, and not just because of the young woman in front of her. She knew what had happened the moment Scott ha sent this young woman to her. He wouldn't know it, but he had feelings for her, already. *She's a good girl, just right for my Scott.* Her mind went to the letter he had written.
Dear Cece, I'm sending over a young redheaded woman to you. She's one of the rebel who broke in. Don't treat her badly, she's not all bad. Her arms were badly hurt in the battle. Take care of them. I'll need to question her soon, so de-tox her if necessary. Oh and I might drop by later. Love, Scott.
Scott gasped as sensation returned to him. He was lying on the floor of his bedroom, a bottle of empty sherry next to him. He groaned and got up. His shirt was off, lying on the bed, and he was only in his grey slacks. His head hurt, but not as much from the drink as from the mental torture he had just faced. He remembered everything still, and he grimaced, but the shock had worn off, and he could still handle it. He hoped. The sound of the buzzer came again, it must have been what woke him. *Who the hell could be calling at this time?* Scott grumbled about and found his shirt. He half walked, half limped to the door. A guard stood there. The baleful look in Scotts eyes was enough to send the guard to steps back.
"What is it?"
"Sir, Mistress Candra has summoned you."
Scott was taken aback. Why would Candra summon him? Probably to find out what he had learnt.
"I'm coming."
"Sir, she's in her chambers, you are to report there."
Scott was again surprised. In her personal chambers? Why on earth would she call him there for?
He turned and going to his room, put on a black tank-top in place of the tunic, and put on the rest of his uniform, just sans armor and cape. It was not necessary for him to wear the whole ensemble.
He walked along the hallways and reached Candra's chamber door. He pressed the buzzer and the door opened. He came in and the first thing that came to his mind was comfort. The rooms were done in lavender and pale red. All the furniture was plush, extremely so, and the furniture was all wrought iron and mahogany. Scott was impressed. The only other rooms he had seen that belonged to an External were Sinisters, and they couldn't really compare to this. The carpet was a mix of pink and peach, and soft to the feet. The room's air was permeated with a soft scent, perhaps mint and rose, Scott couldn't tell, but it was a heady scent. Candra herself was nowhere to be seen. He cleared his throat, and a voice answered from the inner rooms.
"Ah, you're here High Prelate Summers. Good, good, make yourself comfortable, I'll be right out."
Scott walked down into the room, but stood at attention by the fireplace. He heard the echoing sound of heels on marble, then the soft thumps as they reached the carpet. He turned to the hallway beyond, and saw the External standing there. He immediately prostrated, but Candra's voice rang out.
"Stop that, I thought I told you to make yourself comfortable."
Scott snapped up to attention, face impassive.
"Oh, well. You must be wondering what I called you for. Well, I wish to know what you have done with the rebel. Have you extracted any information yet?"
As Scott opened his mouth to answer she held up a hand, cutting him off.
"Ah ah a. Not here, tell me over dinner, I'm very hungry."
She looked at Scott right in the eyes as she said that, and Scott saw a glint in hers, a glint that made him wary.
"Follow me High Prelate. The room is this way."
Scott had no choice but to follow her, into another sumptuous room, a dining room, with a long table made of mahogany and glass, resting on another carpet, this time beige in color. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling. It was elegant and tasteful, even if to Scott's taste a tad overdone.
"Will you join me?"
Scott refused, his stomach couldn't handle food in the delicate condition it was in. In fact he wished Candra would just get it over with and let him make his report and leave. He refused in the most respectful way possible though, it was not wise to refuse the Externals offers usually.
Candra smiled again and asked Scott to make his report.
Scott told her what he knew, which was exactly nothing.
"It takes time mistress, especially when wearing down a telepath."
Candra laughed, "True, perhaps we should just send her to Dark Beast."
Scott nearly blanched, and then, "I will break her Mistress Candra, it will take awhile, besides Dark Beast is too unpredictable. He has killed his interrogation victims before."
Candra nodded thoughtfully. Then she turned to Scott, and daintily wiped her mouth. She looked at the lipstick smears. Scott following her gaze felt himself getting warm. What sort of game was she playing? Candra smiled at him, seeming to know exactly what was going on in his mind. He felt like laughing, an External, the 'Mistress of the Tower' herself was attempting to seduce him.
She poured him a drink, Scott wasn't to sure what it was, but it looked easy enough. He sipped experimentally and then nearly spat it all out. It was extremely strong, and extremely good, Scott had to admit. He finished the drink and then felt a pleasant buzz in his head. Candra was doing something to his ear, sitting next to him. He felt wetness touch his lobe, then something biting on it, softly. He turned and Candra's mouth touched his own. He felt a jolt go through him, as Candra's tongue slipped between his parted lips. Her full lips moved over his own, prompting a response. As passion ignited in him, he reached out his hand and grabbed her buttock, propelling her onto his lap. His tongue mated furiously with hers, slipping over each other in their mouths, exploring each others taste. He unbuttoned her top, slipping his hands in, caressing and squeezing her breasts. She gasped against his mouth and Scott groaned deep in his throat, the sounds she made making him more and more aroused; lifting his mouth off hers and bringing it down to her rock hard left nipple. He put his mouth over it, and she gripped his head, and he began to suckle, pushing her down onto the carpet below him.
He was hers now, the most able Prelate they had ever had, and perhaps the key to power. Sinister had lost him and she had won. That was her last coherent thought as Scott penetrated her. Candra arched her head back, a look of rapture on her face mixed with lustful triumph, as Scott gave her the most intense pleasure she had had for over half a century. As he stopped and lay against her shuddering she felt the warm contentment flowing through her, and she smiled up at the ceiling, her eyes glowing.
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Remy walked up and down in his room, muttering under his breath. They had arrived scant hours ago, and had to deliver the bad news of Jeans capture. The injured had been taken to the infirmary, and the others had retired to the meeting room, to discuss how to rescue Jean. The meeting had been hard for him, not only because of fatigue, but because of Rogue and Erik. He had had trouble trying not to flinch every time she touched him, which had been too often for his liking. For a man like him it was sheer torture not to be able to touch her, as Erik did. He still had no idea how he and Erik would ever work together. They had practically disagreed on everything, no the least being when to go about rescuing Jean. Logan had been with him on that one, and they had been none too happy when Moira had vetoed their decision. It would take a few days before they could even hope to get Jean back. Grudgingly Remy and Logan had conceded the fact, though Logan still glowered about it. Even Moira may not have been enough to stop Remy from heading off anyway, had it not been for Ororo, who had calmly told him that if he took one step off the Island, she would fry him on the spot. Even Remy had backed down then.
Most of the X-men were still recuperating and half of Roulette was out of commission for at least a few days. It was irritating, but there was nothing that could be done about it. Now Remy had to spend two more days in the company of Erik and Rogue. Still he had Wanda at his back anytime he felt like annoying them. She still wouldn't admit that Rogue and Erik were married and that her old friend was now her stepmother. She and Remy were the only two who were uncomfortable in the other two's presence. It was why Wanda was sitting on his bed, legs crossed. The two other occupants of the room were Gavin and Betsy. They sat on a sofa in the room, Betsy lying down, with her head in Gavin's lap.
Remy turned to look at them.
"I tell you mon ami's, Remy is gettin tired of all dis waitin'"
Wanda looked up.
"It's been only a few hours, what's wrong with you?"
"De Ragin' Cajun needs action. Do you hav' any idea how tightly wound I am woman?"
Betsy laughed.
"Hell, Cajun you better not try with Moira's students or Roro won't need to carry out her threat." Then she added more seriously, "Still, I know what you mean."
Remy cut her off before she could continue.
"What de hell are you saying Bet's? De Ragin Cajun ain't dat desparate for loving, Remy can tell you dat. I meant fighting like action."
Betsy laughed again, "You idiot let me finish. I was going to say that I feel bad too. I mean it was because you rescued me that Jean's been captured. I want to get her back. I also want to stick my foot so far up Apocalypse's ass-"
"Chill Bet's we know what you mean."
Gavin was hurriedly getting off the sofa, away from the enraged woman. He had been beaten up by her when she was in a rage before, and didn't want to get his ass kicked from one end of the room to the other.
The door opened as they laughed. Rogue walked in, tentatively.
As always Wanda went tight-lipped when Rogue was around.
"Ah need ta talk ta Remy alone, if ya'll don't mind."
Gavin and Betsy walked out of the room curiosity etched on their faces. Before Wanda could leave the room though Rogue told her that Erik wanted her.
Wanda didn't even deign to look at her, she just walked straight out, and it was anyone's guess whether she heard her or not.
Remy looked at her gazing sadly after Wanda, then she turned her attention to him.
"What you be wantin', Rogue?"
She looked at him, and Remy wasn't sure but he felt as though he could feel pity from her. He didn't mean to use his powers, but he couldn't stop from using them sometimes. It was instinctual. His eyes narrowed. He didn't want pity, especially from her.
"Remy ah heard that you had to take them from Belladonna's grave."
She had been the only person apart from Ororo who had seen the gravesite of Belladonna earlier. It had been a few months after they had begun seeing each other. He had fallen deeply in love with her by that time and had wanted to show her Belladonna's resting place. He had wanted to for some reason, and for whatever reason, she had really appreciated the gesture.
"Remy, ahm sorry. Ah know how hard it must have been for you."
He remained silent, looking at her with unreadable red eyes. Demon's eyes she had once teasingly said, and then had kissed him to show she loved being dirty with her demon. All that had been before he had found out about her and HIM. Then there had been no more of that. When she had found out he knew, she had told him honestly what she wanted, and her reasons. She could have done no worse if she had crucified him. She had taken his heart and then thrown it away as though it were of the least importance, like an old toy. Suddenly Remy was angry, perhaps angrier than he had ever been. His eyes glowed with energy, and the tips of his fingers began to glow where they touched his clothes.
"I wouldn't speak any more if I were you Rogue. It might be having a dangerous effect."
She looked at him, at his anger, then taking a deep breath, tried to speak.
"STOP! I said stop, just shut de hell up! I don't know what de hell you're tryin to prove by acting all sorry. Just leave me alone Rogue, I don't want to see you, it makes my hackles rise, and dat's not a good t'ing to be happenin to a mutant."
Rogue looked a bit shocked, but Remy wasn't done.
"Get de hell out of my sight. Don't you understand?"
Then he grabbed her roughly by the arms and lifting her to him, crushed her mouth with his. She felt good, Remy had to admit, even though she was pressing her lips tightly closed and was wriggling about trying to escape. Good thing she couldn't really fight her own response, otherwise Remy may have been lying outside somewhere, probably dead. Then she stopped fighting altogether and began kissing him back. Remy realized it was only her remarkable control that had saved him, otherwise her strength or her skin would have finished him off, the skin probably for good. She shuddered in his arms, and he backed off. She was crying, he realized. She stepped back putting a hand to her swollen lips, then turned around and ran out of the room. Remy turned around and kicked the bed, cursing. *Dat's what you do to a girl who tries to comfort you Remy, you mess wid' her head. Been better if you had jes' knocked her down and kicked her as she lay. Not one of your smarter moves, homme. Shit.*
Remy walked out of his room. He needed to get laid, and badly. To get the girl with the cinnamon tresses with the white streak through them out of his mind, and out of his heart. No matter what Betsy said, some of the students here weren't all that young, and he had had his eye on one of the teachers anyway. Time to see if Miss Frost was in the mood for some de-icing.
===============================================
Remembrance
Scott Summers stood before the other Prelates, ten Uber-leutnants, and thirty commanders. They were standing before him, in order of Rank. The Prelates stood closest to him, at attention, behind which were the Uber- leutnants, behind which stood the commanders. He stood on a slightly elevated dais, and behind him was an even higher platform on which all The Externals stood. The orders he was going to give now had come from Apocalypse himself.
"I have summoned you tell you that the recent rebel break in must never happen again. That I am sure is clear to all of you. To stop this, all entries into the Tower must be found and blocked. Apart from that all guards and mutant units must be vetted. This means that all mutant units will be sent to Dr. McCoy. He will administer to them. As for all the guards, The External Exodus will be performing a psychic scan on them. In this manner, all spies and traitors will be found. New shifts will also be assigned. Each floor must now have at least ten guards and half a mutant unit. In this manner, all the floors will be well-enough protected so that no rebel, or anyone else for that matter, can attack the inside easily. There will also be one commander posted for every floor. Hence all thirty of the commander here will be on one floor, to relay orders quickly and efficiently. The events of a few hours ago will never be repeated again, not as long as I'm High Prelate. You are dismissed."
The commander and Uber-leutnants walked out. The Prelates stood at ease, as Scott turned to the Externals.
"Very nicely done, High Prelate Summers. You have shown that you are able to command."
Candra smiled at Scott, and then turned and walked out. The rest of the Externals walked after her, except Sinister.
"Scott, you must question the rebel that was captured. Again you must find out about them. She was Xavier's protégé, and an important member of the X- men. She would know a lot about them. You must extract that information from her."
Scott bowed, and Sinister turned and left.
He then turned, and smiled at the Prelates. They immediately relaxed. Of them all only Sylvia was missing. She had not recovered from her injuries, in fact Cecilia had not sounded hopeful of her being able to perform her Prelate duties for at least a week. Scott had felt responsible for her hurt, but Sylvia had jokingly told him not to feel responsible. It wasn't his fault, she had claimed. Scott knew better, and he intended to make it up to her, and the others.
"You are free for the rest of the day, enjoy it. The next few days are going to be hell."
Scott sat in his room, sipping bourbon. The liquor burned down his throat, and he sighed with satisfaction as he sat the glass down. He had put away his armor and cape, and was dressed in only a black tunic and grey pants now. He had ordered Phoenix to his room. He intended to draw out all the secrets about the X-men. It would be even more difficult than Psylocke had been, but Scott always relished a challenge. Jean Grey, that was her name. It seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it. Perhaps he would find out when he met her.
Jean followed the guards sullenly. She had woken up in a containment unit, something she had not expected to happen. She wondered if any others had been captured, but had been relieved to find no one else had. Unless the guards were lying, though that didn't seem likely. She could not use her powers, and that was one of the things that had most scared her. Still, now she had been summoned by The High Prelate himself. No reason had been given, just that she had been summoned. She knew that he was a dangerous man, she had been impressed by him both of the times she had seen him.
The guards led her to a door, guarded by two sentries. They moved aside, and the guard pressed a button. The door opened a few seconds later, and Jean was escorted into Cyclops's lair. It was different from what she expected. Looking around the plush, inviting room, Jean had to admit that she was surprised. The High Prelate was sitting in a chair that faced the entrance. Jean had to take a double take when she saw him. The two times she had seen him, he had been dressed in his uniform. Now he wore a black tunic, open halfway down the front, and grey pants. His eyes were not covered by a visor, but thin ruby colored glasses. He looked, for want of a better word, nice. The red glasses did give him the quality of a punk rocker though. He was classically handsome, with a straight nose, and high cheekbones, and a squared chin. His jaw had slight stubble, and his hair was wet, hanging down to his eyebrows. He looked as sexy as sin to boot. Jean dragged her eyes away from his exposed chest. She looked into his eyes, or where she expected his eyes would be, behind those glasses. He was looking towards her. Then he raised his hand, and the guard behind left, the door closing behind him.
"Welcome Miss Grey. Please make yourself at home, have a seat."
Jean looked at him wearily, then finding no reason to stand, she flopped into the proffered chair.
"Would you like a drink? I only have bourbon and sherry. You know how hard it is to get decent liquor these days."
Why was he acting so nice? Jean had no clue, but she would play his game if he wanted.
"Oh Sherry will be fine, and it's Jean."
"You must call me Scott of course."
Scott? She had not expected him to have a name so ordinary. Funny how that name sent memories spiraling through her. A young boy, by the riverbank, and a young girl with him, talking nicely. Then the near kiss, something she had been surprised by as she had met him only minutes before. Then HE had come, and killed the boy. Jean felt the sudden anger in her, and the sadness. She shook her head quickly to rid her of the memories. She thought she had gotten over that. Seems she hadn't.
Scott was looking at her curiously. She realized that she must have looked strange.
"What's the matter?"
She looked up at him, as he handed her the glass of Sherry.
"Oh nothing, your name reminded me of another Scott I knew, a long time ago."
He smiled, and Jean felt her heart flutter.
*Damn it Jean, stop that, this is the goddamn enemy!* She frowned, but quickly cleared her face, in case Scott noticed. She suddenly remembered what Xavier had said.
('He is an honorable man. The X-men could use him. He will not stay with Apocalypse. Jean, you must convince him-'.)
That had been the last thing he had said to her. Before Scott had killed him. The anger returned with the memory.
"You know that I would like to kill you, and if possible would have done so by now."
Jean said it almost conversationally.
Scott didn't even flinch, didn't even stop sipping his drink. He then put the glass down.
"I know. I also know that you'd prefer to talk to me than to Dark Beast or one of the Externals. If you would like, I could arrange a meeting between you and Dark Beast."
Jean nearly paled at the thought of Dark Beast. She had heard rumors, but had discounted over half of them. The other half, were still enough to make her grip the chair arms tightly, just for a moment. He had noticed, and smiled, stretching back.
"I see we are in agreement about what should be done at least as far as Dark Beast is concerned."
Jean refused to answer. He had her in his grasp and would not be letting go anytime soon. Jean was sure of that. She looked away from his glasses, and read the name on the award on the mantle. Scott Summers. Brown hair, lean features, straight nose, squared chin. Her boy. From the past, in the flesh, right in front of her, not dead, The High Prelate.
"You. you are Scott Summers?"
He stared at her.
"Yes. What is my name to you?"
She leaned back in her chair and shuddered. The young boy, who she had loved, at first sight, was her enemy. Then, *Sinister! Sinister did this to him!*
"You're Scott Summers?"
He looked irritated this time.
"Yes woman, how many times should I tell you?"
"You don't remember me?"
Scott looked at her strangely. What was this woman saying? Remember her; he had never seen her before the fight when he killed Xavier. no that wasn't right. He had seen her before, a long time ago. But he couldn't remember when he had seen her. She did remind him of something though. He remembered swans.
"I do not think I have ever seen you before. but, for some reason you remind me of swans."
Jeans heart leapt into her throat when he said that. He was her Scott. Her Scott? No he wasn't hers. He would never be hers. He was an enemy, and she had Logan anyway. Still she couldn't stop herself from looking at him. The young boy she remembered was still very much there. She could tell, but the man was there too. A very dangerous man.
"Why do you remind me of swans?"
The question was so bluntly put that Jean was taken aback, and she answered.
"That's because that's where we met, thirteen years ago, by the swan lakes, two kilometers from here."
Scott suddenly remembered, with amazing clarity. Something had broke in him with those words, and he remembered. The lake, his headaches and flashes, the redheaded girl with flowers in her hair, the swans, the feel of her in his arms so right and true. Then he remembered Sinister. The needle, and what had happened after. Scott himself had put the block on the memories, in hopelessness.
He rose suddenly, so fast that Jean flinched. He went and poured another glass for himself, then drained it in one go. He put the glass down, and clenched his eyes tightly shut.
Jean stared at him a moment, when he moved again, and pressed a button. The door opened and the guard came in.
"Take her back to the containment area. No, wait. Take her to Dr. Cecilia Reyes."
He wrote something on a paper, then handed it to the guard.
"Give Dr. Reyes this note. After that follow Dr. Reyes orders."
The guard saluted and then grabbed her by the arm.
"Gently Mobhan." Scott chastised.
The guard looked surprised, then held her gingerly and took her out of the room. Out of the corner of the room, Jean saw him sink in the chair, head in his hands. She was surprised, that was for sure. She had not expected such a reaction from him.
As she was led down the hall, Jean wondered who Dr. Reyes was.
Visions ran through Scotts head. Jeans statement had unlocked a part of his memories he had kept sealed, perhaps with help. Like a surrealistic experience, he remembered. He remembered the one month of his life that had before been blank. He had never questioned why he didn't remember it as he didn't remember every year of his life. Now though, he remembered. After Sinister pierced him with the needle, he had been brought to Sinisters lab. He had been confined there, for nearly a month. Sinister had feverishly developed glasses for him, testing every material he could. When he realized Scotts headaches weren't returning, three days after being confined, he realized that it must be the sun powering him. He had opened a vent in the roof, and stood Scott below it. Then he had made glasses made of Ruby Quartz. These had held back what Sinister had guessed was coming. Since he wore the glasses nearly all the time, to ease his headaches, Scott was surprised, when he once took off his glasses, that a beam of pure red energy had shot from his eyes and burned a hole in the wall. Sinister had been furious, and Scott had realized that he would need to wear the glasses forever, or risk killing everyone and everything around him.
Sinister had performed experiments on him in that time. He had injected thin needles into his head, so thin that Scott could barely see them. These needles had been hooked up to a whole bizarre set of computers and chemicals.
The pain that had followed had been the most excruciating Scott had felt in his entire life.
Apparently nothing good came of the experiments, as after each Sinister would shake his head and frown. Then had come the helmet and glasses in them. It had not been as painful as the needles, but soon Scott had come to dread it more than the needles. It provided no physical pain, but the mental agonies unleashed were more than he could bear. He had been forced to relive all the moments of his life he had felt the most extreme emotions. A side effect, Sinister had said, but the anguish compounded on anguish Scott had gone through were almost more than he could bear. He had seen his parents killed again, his home destroyed, his first meeting with Apocalypse, his meeting with Jean Grey, and the needles. The hate he held for them, made it so that he was forced to relive the pain. All of it had come back to him, every day he wore the helmets. When finally Sinister had destroyed them, Scott had wept for sheer relief. It was then that Sinister had begun developing the visor. It had taken Scott one week to master its usage. He had then trained himself. The first step in his disciplining himself had been to ask Sinister to erase all memory of what had happened in the laboratory. When Sinister told him that was impossible, Scott had tried the next best thing. He had put the strongest mental block on it that he could muster, and then asked the Dark Beast to make it hold, instead of him holding it. He had gone in wrapped so tight, that he might have exploded. He had also blocked all memories of his parents death, and Jean Grey. Once that was done, he had become what he was. A cold, emotionless man, even though he never lost his basic traits, that of honor, and righteousness. Scott had always been moral, ethic and principled. That had started the sequence of events that led to his becoming the youngest Prelate ever two years after being promoted to Uber-leutnant when he was sixteen, and then High Prelate four years later. He had been High Prelate for five years now.
Scott held the edge of the table, his grip on composure fast fading. The memories cycled through his head, again, and again.
His parents.
Apocalypse.
Jean Grey.
The needles.
The helmet.
Again and again and again, until it all become a whirlpool of memories, flowing round and round in his head, until he was screaming.
Jean was again surprised at the infirmary. It was like most infirmary's she had seen, though the one at the X-quarters and Muir Isle had been at a far greater scale. Yet this seemed to be an infirmary only, no sign of any laboratory type apparatus was around. Apart from that the place had a nice homely atmosphere, and Jean felt at ease in the surroundings.
The doctor turned out to be pleasant surprise as well. She was a short woman of middle years, with a smiling face. She had a paternal air around her, and Jean felt even more at ease.
"Why has she been brought here?"
The question was abrupt and to the point. The guard simply stated that it was the High Prelates orders and handed her the note. She dismissed the guard and started reading the note, muttering about how the High Prelate had begun to think of himself too high and needed some spanking. Jean nearly burst out laughing when she heard her. She couldn't imagine this woman spanking Scott. The sharp look she received for her small snort was enough to dispel that notion. The doctor was fierce, that was obvious.
"So it seems Scott wants you checked up.. Hmm. all right sit down."
The doctor checked her quickly and efficiently, frowning and muttering when she examined her arms.
"You need to get these arms in shape. The muscles are in bad shape. A little de-tox should do it."
Before Jean could do anything she was marched into a room by the elbow, and then two nurses dumped her into a tank. It was sealed and filled with liquid. At first Jean nearly panicked, but then a warm glow suffused her, and she went limp. A few minutes later she was being pulled out of the tank, and robed. Then she was stripped by the doctor, who then smilingly declared her in tip top shape. She was then clothed in regulation clothes. Jean was a bit shocked; the Infirmary had a very good de-tox tank, which did the work their own at Muir Isle did in half the time. As she walked out of the changing room, she noticed a woman lying in a bed, her hands totally bandaged, and her head also partially bandaged.
"Who's that?"
The doctor looked at her.
"That is Sylvia Ferguson, the Prelate Lumina. She was grievously injured during the battle against you and your compatriots. She'll be in here for a week more, as her injuries were horrible, no thanks to you."
Jean looked at the doctor warily. The doctor noticed, and laughed.
"Oh, don't be afraid of me dear. I won't hurt you, even if you hurt little Sylvia. You did what you had to. Her getting hurt wasn't even your fault, it was really an accident. Scott and the feral companion of yours sparked off a fire extinguisher during their fight, and the air bursting out of it disturbed the balance of the molecules around Sylvia."
Jean looked surprised again. The doctor seemed to be very well informed about the battle.
The doctor again noticed and smiled.
"You're wondering what a two bit doctor is doing knowing all this. Well Scott came in here to apologize to Sylvia, as he blames himself for her condition, that silly boy. He told me, and the other Prelates also told me a bit about their fight. Alex was really proud, the little monkey, as was Lorna, about being the only ones, apart from Scott, to have seen the Master himself. So you're Jean are you? Jean Grey. the name's familiar. Hmm. anyway, I'm Doctor Cecilia Reyes, but you're welcome to call me Cecilia. How is Scott doing? I was worried he might take too much responsibility on himself."
Jean couldn't help laughing, the mental image she had of Cecilia in a mothering hen type of role, especially over the Prelates and the High Prelate, came out very incongruous. Cecilia smiled back at Jean, knowing exactly what the young X-woman must have thought.
"So my dear tell me about yourself, before the guards come back. I want to know all about you, and don't worry, I won't tell anyone what you told me. They can do their own questioning."
To her great surprise Jean found herself telling Cecilia about herself.
Cecilia felt good, and not just because of the young woman in front of her. She knew what had happened the moment Scott ha sent this young woman to her. He wouldn't know it, but he had feelings for her, already. *She's a good girl, just right for my Scott.* Her mind went to the letter he had written.
Dear Cece, I'm sending over a young redheaded woman to you. She's one of the rebel who broke in. Don't treat her badly, she's not all bad. Her arms were badly hurt in the battle. Take care of them. I'll need to question her soon, so de-tox her if necessary. Oh and I might drop by later. Love, Scott.
Scott gasped as sensation returned to him. He was lying on the floor of his bedroom, a bottle of empty sherry next to him. He groaned and got up. His shirt was off, lying on the bed, and he was only in his grey slacks. His head hurt, but not as much from the drink as from the mental torture he had just faced. He remembered everything still, and he grimaced, but the shock had worn off, and he could still handle it. He hoped. The sound of the buzzer came again, it must have been what woke him. *Who the hell could be calling at this time?* Scott grumbled about and found his shirt. He half walked, half limped to the door. A guard stood there. The baleful look in Scotts eyes was enough to send the guard to steps back.
"What is it?"
"Sir, Mistress Candra has summoned you."
Scott was taken aback. Why would Candra summon him? Probably to find out what he had learnt.
"I'm coming."
"Sir, she's in her chambers, you are to report there."
Scott was again surprised. In her personal chambers? Why on earth would she call him there for?
He turned and going to his room, put on a black tank-top in place of the tunic, and put on the rest of his uniform, just sans armor and cape. It was not necessary for him to wear the whole ensemble.
He walked along the hallways and reached Candra's chamber door. He pressed the buzzer and the door opened. He came in and the first thing that came to his mind was comfort. The rooms were done in lavender and pale red. All the furniture was plush, extremely so, and the furniture was all wrought iron and mahogany. Scott was impressed. The only other rooms he had seen that belonged to an External were Sinisters, and they couldn't really compare to this. The carpet was a mix of pink and peach, and soft to the feet. The room's air was permeated with a soft scent, perhaps mint and rose, Scott couldn't tell, but it was a heady scent. Candra herself was nowhere to be seen. He cleared his throat, and a voice answered from the inner rooms.
"Ah, you're here High Prelate Summers. Good, good, make yourself comfortable, I'll be right out."
Scott walked down into the room, but stood at attention by the fireplace. He heard the echoing sound of heels on marble, then the soft thumps as they reached the carpet. He turned to the hallway beyond, and saw the External standing there. He immediately prostrated, but Candra's voice rang out.
"Stop that, I thought I told you to make yourself comfortable."
Scott snapped up to attention, face impassive.
"Oh, well. You must be wondering what I called you for. Well, I wish to know what you have done with the rebel. Have you extracted any information yet?"
As Scott opened his mouth to answer she held up a hand, cutting him off.
"Ah ah a. Not here, tell me over dinner, I'm very hungry."
She looked at Scott right in the eyes as she said that, and Scott saw a glint in hers, a glint that made him wary.
"Follow me High Prelate. The room is this way."
Scott had no choice but to follow her, into another sumptuous room, a dining room, with a long table made of mahogany and glass, resting on another carpet, this time beige in color. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling. It was elegant and tasteful, even if to Scott's taste a tad overdone.
"Will you join me?"
Scott refused, his stomach couldn't handle food in the delicate condition it was in. In fact he wished Candra would just get it over with and let him make his report and leave. He refused in the most respectful way possible though, it was not wise to refuse the Externals offers usually.
Candra smiled again and asked Scott to make his report.
Scott told her what he knew, which was exactly nothing.
"It takes time mistress, especially when wearing down a telepath."
Candra laughed, "True, perhaps we should just send her to Dark Beast."
Scott nearly blanched, and then, "I will break her Mistress Candra, it will take awhile, besides Dark Beast is too unpredictable. He has killed his interrogation victims before."
Candra nodded thoughtfully. Then she turned to Scott, and daintily wiped her mouth. She looked at the lipstick smears. Scott following her gaze felt himself getting warm. What sort of game was she playing? Candra smiled at him, seeming to know exactly what was going on in his mind. He felt like laughing, an External, the 'Mistress of the Tower' herself was attempting to seduce him.
She poured him a drink, Scott wasn't to sure what it was, but it looked easy enough. He sipped experimentally and then nearly spat it all out. It was extremely strong, and extremely good, Scott had to admit. He finished the drink and then felt a pleasant buzz in his head. Candra was doing something to his ear, sitting next to him. He felt wetness touch his lobe, then something biting on it, softly. He turned and Candra's mouth touched his own. He felt a jolt go through him, as Candra's tongue slipped between his parted lips. Her full lips moved over his own, prompting a response. As passion ignited in him, he reached out his hand and grabbed her buttock, propelling her onto his lap. His tongue mated furiously with hers, slipping over each other in their mouths, exploring each others taste. He unbuttoned her top, slipping his hands in, caressing and squeezing her breasts. She gasped against his mouth and Scott groaned deep in his throat, the sounds she made making him more and more aroused; lifting his mouth off hers and bringing it down to her rock hard left nipple. He put his mouth over it, and she gripped his head, and he began to suckle, pushing her down onto the carpet below him.
He was hers now, the most able Prelate they had ever had, and perhaps the key to power. Sinister had lost him and she had won. That was her last coherent thought as Scott penetrated her. Candra arched her head back, a look of rapture on her face mixed with lustful triumph, as Scott gave her the most intense pleasure she had had for over half a century. As he stopped and lay against her shuddering she felt the warm contentment flowing through her, and she smiled up at the ceiling, her eyes glowing.
---------------------------------------------------
Remy walked up and down in his room, muttering under his breath. They had arrived scant hours ago, and had to deliver the bad news of Jeans capture. The injured had been taken to the infirmary, and the others had retired to the meeting room, to discuss how to rescue Jean. The meeting had been hard for him, not only because of fatigue, but because of Rogue and Erik. He had had trouble trying not to flinch every time she touched him, which had been too often for his liking. For a man like him it was sheer torture not to be able to touch her, as Erik did. He still had no idea how he and Erik would ever work together. They had practically disagreed on everything, no the least being when to go about rescuing Jean. Logan had been with him on that one, and they had been none too happy when Moira had vetoed their decision. It would take a few days before they could even hope to get Jean back. Grudgingly Remy and Logan had conceded the fact, though Logan still glowered about it. Even Moira may not have been enough to stop Remy from heading off anyway, had it not been for Ororo, who had calmly told him that if he took one step off the Island, she would fry him on the spot. Even Remy had backed down then.
Most of the X-men were still recuperating and half of Roulette was out of commission for at least a few days. It was irritating, but there was nothing that could be done about it. Now Remy had to spend two more days in the company of Erik and Rogue. Still he had Wanda at his back anytime he felt like annoying them. She still wouldn't admit that Rogue and Erik were married and that her old friend was now her stepmother. She and Remy were the only two who were uncomfortable in the other two's presence. It was why Wanda was sitting on his bed, legs crossed. The two other occupants of the room were Gavin and Betsy. They sat on a sofa in the room, Betsy lying down, with her head in Gavin's lap.
Remy turned to look at them.
"I tell you mon ami's, Remy is gettin tired of all dis waitin'"
Wanda looked up.
"It's been only a few hours, what's wrong with you?"
"De Ragin' Cajun needs action. Do you hav' any idea how tightly wound I am woman?"
Betsy laughed.
"Hell, Cajun you better not try with Moira's students or Roro won't need to carry out her threat." Then she added more seriously, "Still, I know what you mean."
Remy cut her off before she could continue.
"What de hell are you saying Bet's? De Ragin Cajun ain't dat desparate for loving, Remy can tell you dat. I meant fighting like action."
Betsy laughed again, "You idiot let me finish. I was going to say that I feel bad too. I mean it was because you rescued me that Jean's been captured. I want to get her back. I also want to stick my foot so far up Apocalypse's ass-"
"Chill Bet's we know what you mean."
Gavin was hurriedly getting off the sofa, away from the enraged woman. He had been beaten up by her when she was in a rage before, and didn't want to get his ass kicked from one end of the room to the other.
The door opened as they laughed. Rogue walked in, tentatively.
As always Wanda went tight-lipped when Rogue was around.
"Ah need ta talk ta Remy alone, if ya'll don't mind."
Gavin and Betsy walked out of the room curiosity etched on their faces. Before Wanda could leave the room though Rogue told her that Erik wanted her.
Wanda didn't even deign to look at her, she just walked straight out, and it was anyone's guess whether she heard her or not.
Remy looked at her gazing sadly after Wanda, then she turned her attention to him.
"What you be wantin', Rogue?"
She looked at him, and Remy wasn't sure but he felt as though he could feel pity from her. He didn't mean to use his powers, but he couldn't stop from using them sometimes. It was instinctual. His eyes narrowed. He didn't want pity, especially from her.
"Remy ah heard that you had to take them from Belladonna's grave."
She had been the only person apart from Ororo who had seen the gravesite of Belladonna earlier. It had been a few months after they had begun seeing each other. He had fallen deeply in love with her by that time and had wanted to show her Belladonna's resting place. He had wanted to for some reason, and for whatever reason, she had really appreciated the gesture.
"Remy, ahm sorry. Ah know how hard it must have been for you."
He remained silent, looking at her with unreadable red eyes. Demon's eyes she had once teasingly said, and then had kissed him to show she loved being dirty with her demon. All that had been before he had found out about her and HIM. Then there had been no more of that. When she had found out he knew, she had told him honestly what she wanted, and her reasons. She could have done no worse if she had crucified him. She had taken his heart and then thrown it away as though it were of the least importance, like an old toy. Suddenly Remy was angry, perhaps angrier than he had ever been. His eyes glowed with energy, and the tips of his fingers began to glow where they touched his clothes.
"I wouldn't speak any more if I were you Rogue. It might be having a dangerous effect."
She looked at him, at his anger, then taking a deep breath, tried to speak.
"STOP! I said stop, just shut de hell up! I don't know what de hell you're tryin to prove by acting all sorry. Just leave me alone Rogue, I don't want to see you, it makes my hackles rise, and dat's not a good t'ing to be happenin to a mutant."
Rogue looked a bit shocked, but Remy wasn't done.
"Get de hell out of my sight. Don't you understand?"
Then he grabbed her roughly by the arms and lifting her to him, crushed her mouth with his. She felt good, Remy had to admit, even though she was pressing her lips tightly closed and was wriggling about trying to escape. Good thing she couldn't really fight her own response, otherwise Remy may have been lying outside somewhere, probably dead. Then she stopped fighting altogether and began kissing him back. Remy realized it was only her remarkable control that had saved him, otherwise her strength or her skin would have finished him off, the skin probably for good. She shuddered in his arms, and he backed off. She was crying, he realized. She stepped back putting a hand to her swollen lips, then turned around and ran out of the room. Remy turned around and kicked the bed, cursing. *Dat's what you do to a girl who tries to comfort you Remy, you mess wid' her head. Been better if you had jes' knocked her down and kicked her as she lay. Not one of your smarter moves, homme. Shit.*
Remy walked out of his room. He needed to get laid, and badly. To get the girl with the cinnamon tresses with the white streak through them out of his mind, and out of his heart. No matter what Betsy said, some of the students here weren't all that young, and he had had his eye on one of the teachers anyway. Time to see if Miss Frost was in the mood for some de-icing.
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