Dismal Angel 2010 - Episode 6
Chapter 2: The Man You Were
"You've been out of bed," Jean Grey said sounding ever so slightly miffed as she stepped through the doorway of the hospital wing carrying a tray with some food, she set it down on the cabinet beside the bed Remy was stretched out on.
"How did you know?" Remy seemed surprised, his eyes widening a little, and Jean was able to see that he was wondering if perhaps she'd been reading his mind.
"I saw you leaving the bed on one of the security monitors while I was in the war room," Jean stated, "there's a camera right up there," she gestured to the corner of the room where a camera was hidden inside a black dome attached to the ceiling itself.
"Thank goodness I didn't do anything embarrassing to kill the boredom," Remy wiggled his eyebrows a little, but his cheeks reddened somewhat at this mere thought.
Jean gave a slight laugh, "that certainly is a relief," she admitted. "Please don't leave your bed again."
"I don't need to be lying in a hospital bed," Remy sat up a little, wincing in pain.
Jean rolled her eyes a little but smiled, "You fail to realise how much bloody you lost or how close to death you were," she explained, "and that wound is in a very awkward place on your side, every time you move you make it bleed…" she admitted.
"Not much," Remy shrugged.
"Here, eat this…" she placed the tray with the food on his lap carefully.
"Why is no one answering my questions?" Remy sighed, he picked up a half of the sandwich on the plate in front of him, he half-heartedly took a bite of the sandwich.
"You shouldn't concern yourself with these things right now, you need rest," Jean bent down to pick up a needle from the floor, "You've pulled out the drip again," she sighed.
"I don't like it in, it stings," Remy muttered through his mouthful of sandwich.
Jean went about disposing of the used needle, "how is the pain?" she asked softly.
"Not too bad," Remy stated, he remained quiet for a moment, there was an awkward silence that filled the room, looming over the both of them.
Jean used that moment to let her powers access Remy's mind. There were vague thoughts, only questions he wanted to ask and had asked without answering. Jean decided to break the awkward silence quickly and try and deter him from realising what she'd been doing, "you complain about the sting of the drip needle when you have a bullet hole in your side," she gave a slight smirk, "are you sure you wouldn't like the drip back in?"
"I'm sure," Remy stated in a jaded tone, he kept his hypnotic eyes upon her all the while, "You took a long time to respond to that…were you reading my mind again?" he queried softly.
Jean looked away, quickly deciding to change the subject, "would you like me to get a television moved in here for you?"
"Why didn't you answer my question?" Remy sat up a little straighter, his voice becoming rather edgy.
Jean walked over to a small cabinet and unlocked it with a key she'd had in her pocket, she took a few bandages, some cotton swabs and a bottle of antiseptic out and locked it once again, she walked over, "would you be upset if I had read your mind?"
Remy thought about this, "I would be…except there's nothing in my head worth reading…since…I don't have any memories or any secrets to hide – at least I don't think I do…"
Jean moved the tray from his lap to the cabinet beside him, "I need to change your bandages," she said softly, she sat down at his side, pulling on a pair of surgical gloves, "remove your top, please."
"Do you see anything in my mind?" He asked curiously, he unzipped his hooded top, revealing his bare torso beneath. "Being telepathic…you must see something, must…I don't know…be able to see things in my head that I don't know are there."
"It's not as easy as that," Jean sighed, she watched as he removed the top and tossed it aside, sitting there bare-chested, the bandage around his waist slightly stained with blood. "Your mind was never particularly easy to read – even before the amnesia," she said softly, "it may have something to do with your mutant abilities or it may not, I'm not particularly sure," she began to carefully unwrap the bandage that was already around Remy's waist.
Remy winced as the bandages began to come off, "what's a mutant?" he asked with a sharp breath.
Jean looked at him, "You are…I am…we all are," she kept her eyes upon his hoping to see some recognition of this information in his mind. No response, except curiosity mainly.
"So…at least now I know two things about myself," Remy grumbled, "My name and I'm a mutant…although I'm not really sure what a mutant is…" he sighed, "can you tell me more?"
"You REALLY don't remember what a mutant is?" Jean found herself absolutely stunned, bright green eyes wide in astonishment.
Remy shook his head in a very sad and unsure way.
Jean paused for thought, then smiled a little apprehensively, "do you want the long and detailed explanation or the simple one?" she raised an eyebrow.
Remy gave a nervous grin, "the simple one would be useful…"
Jean nodded, "fine…" she tucked her hair behind her ear, looked around the room for a moment, thinking of how to word it, "a mutant – what you and me are – is a human with a slightly evolved gene in our DNA which has—"
"This sounds like the long and detailed explanation…" Remy admitted worriedly.
Jean grinned, "sorry. Plain and simple explanation is…we have powers…" she gestured to the other side of the room where a chair was pressed with its back against the plain white wall. She tilted her head slightly, focusing all her concentration on the chair, and both she and Remy watched the chair as it moved five feet sideways, the legs slightly dragging on the tile floor, creating a loud noise as it did.
"Holy shit…" Remy whispered, "you did that?"
Jean softly nodded, "yes…I'm telekinetic…and telepathic…"
"So could I do that?" he queried.
"Not really," Jean explained, "Your powers are quite different from mines, not every mutant has the same ability. And while there are a few of us who had similar abilities to each other, most of us have very unique gifts…"
Remy looked at her, "so…can you tell me what my 'gift' is then?"
"It's not my place to," Jean admitted, she completely removed the bandages and disposed of them, then began clean gently around the wound with the antiseptic and cotton swabs.
"How can you expect me to ever get my memory back if you don't tell me who I am?" Remy asked, he made a number of pained faces as she gently patted the cotton and antiseptic around the bullet wound on his side, "and how did I get this fucking wound anyway?" he groaned, "it's a gunshot wound, right?"
"Yeah, it is," Jean nodded, "and its going to leave one hell of a scar too…" she said sympathetically.
"So…are you ever gonna tell me who shot me?"
Jean clenched her teeth as she swabbed the wound tenderly, she did not give an answer.
"C'mon…you gotta tell me, who wanted to hurt me?" his expression became hurt and lost.
Jean looked at him, "I can't really answer that," she sighed, feeling it wasn't her place. This kind of news might be quite damaging to him when his mind was already so frail, she didn't want to tell him anything too shocking.
"People shot me…did I do something bad?" he asked, his voice was so innocent it almost reminded Jean of the way a child would speak. There was a new purity in Remy's whole personality no one had ever seen before.
Jean began to put on the new bandages, "Please don't concern yourself with the man you were," she pleaded.
Remy stopped her, taking a firm hold of her wrist, and held her hand still until she glanced up to his eyes, "You need to help me…"
"Trust me, we're going to do everything in our power to help you retrieve your memories, but don't worry, Remy," she pulled free of his grasp and continued with what she was doing, trying to stay focused although his desperation for information was becoming very distracting to her.
Remy looked away, his expression becoming very preoccupied and distant.
Jean felt this was a good moment to try and reassure him, "This is just temporary because of the trauma of your wound. Eventually your memories will come back," she promised, even though she knew there might be a slight possibility – even a one percent chance – that this might not be true.
Remy gave a distant sigh, "what am I meant to do until I get my memories back, just sit here like an invalid and never have answers to my questions…?"
Jean realised this did seem a tad cruel to leave someone in so much darkness about their whole identity. "I…I tell you what, there's one of us in this mansion who knows you really well…"
"Rogue?" Remy asked, sounding quite hopeful.
"No…her name is Kitty," Jean answered, she would have suggested he speak to Rogue but Rogue had enough problems with their past relationship to be responsible enough to tell him everything he needed to know. Jean suspected Rogue might tell Remy only the good things about himself and change Remy's whole identity.
"I don't know that name," Remy sighed.
"Kitty knows you well, for eight years she's been your friend," Jean explained, "and she's nice, and she's friendly, and she'll answer your questions as honestly as she can," Jean explained, "I'll speak to her and see if I can get her to come and see you – maybe it'll help."
"That…would be great," Remy admitted, finally smiling fully.
Jean finally finished wrapping the bandages around his waist and secured them, "there," she smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me," she disposed of the used swabs and the surgical gloves, "I have other things to do," she headed towards the door, "finish your food, I'll be back to check up on you later."
Remy nodded, but didn't look particularly thrilled. Jean felt rather relieved as she left the room, she had a terrible feeling growing within herself, but she could not exactly pinpoint what it was. Trying to shake it off, she decided she needed to confront the Professor.