Dismal Angel 2010 - Episode 9
Chapter 6: Not Quite Right
Rogue stepped down the cold dark halls leading to the Hospital Wing infirmary, the lights were down at their lowest, and there was no sound except from her own footsteps against the tiled floors as she made her way along. Her heart was pounding viciously in her chest and felt as if it would burst out any moment, she stopped at the familiar door, remembering all the times in her life she'd been a patient in this very room. Two particular years, aged fifteen and sixteen, she felt as if she'd never been out of the infirmary, and those incidents of her being there usually had something to do with Remy.
And now, here she was again, and realising how strange it was that every time she came to the infirmary, whether a patient or visitor, it usually was because of Remy.
But this time, it would be the final time.
She knocked softly on the door and waited for a response, the door creaked open softly, Hank peered out from inside, "Rogue…oh, I didn't expect you to come down here," he sounded quite nervous.
"You alright, Hank?" Rogue asked.
"I'm fine, just tired, and edgy, its been a rough night…" he said, he left the room somehow not letting Rogue see inside at all, he closed the door behind himself, "what are you down here for, Rogue?" he asked, "you should be getting some rest…"
"I hate how people always think someone needs rest when someone in their life has just died," Rogue said she looked away from him for a moment, "I can't sleep, Hank, every time I do close my eyes I see those final moments in my head…I still hear the snap…its drivin' me crazy…"
"Do you need something to help you sleep?"
"No…I'd rather not, I'd probably have nightmares," Rogue confessed.
Hank smiled a little,
"Kitty said that same thing…" he put his large hand upon her shoulder, "do you
need to talk? We can go into the lab, or
we can go to the kitchen and make some coffee if you'd like."
Rogue looked up at Hank, "Hank,
I know this is going to sound crazy…but, I need to see him one last time…"
"Rogue, that isn't a very good idea, you know, you are still going through the grief process, and seeing him like this might make you feel even worse, I do not want you going through all that…"
"Hank, you don't get it, I LOVE him," she blinked, and although she thought she'd been out of tears, fresh new tears were already brimming upon her dark green eyes, "I never got the chance to say I love him when he was alive, and if I don't do this now – while his body is still here in this mansion – I might never get a chance…"
Hank looked at her, somehow already quite aware that trying to keep her away from the body was only going to make her more persistent. And he felt for her, he knew she'd loved him, he knew she'd gone through so much because of him, and he could barely deny her the last chance to say her final words to him. It wasn't much to ask.
"Alright," Hank said softly, "are you sure you can handle this?"
"Yes," Rogue sighed, "god I've seen a dead body before, I saw Jared, remember…"
"Yes, of course…" Hank nodded, he reached over and opened the door, "If you need me, if you feel upset or anything, you can call on me, I'll just be outside, okay?" "Alright," Rogue nodded softly, and she stepped inside, and heard the door close behind her. There was a strange finality to the sound of the door closing, and it made her shudder, drew in a trembling breath, and stare forward to the bed nearest. Shrouded in a white sheet, Remy's corpse. She put her hands to her mouth and stifled her gasp. She'd seen him hang, she'd seen him dead, but now, covered in a white sheet, there was nothing more final than this, this was really the end of Remy LeBeau, she could not bear it.
She turned away, tears rolling down her face, she forced her eyes shut, demanding herself of why she'd come in this room, she'd thought she could be brave and do this but she was not, she felt helpless, like a lost child, she didn't know how to react anymore.
"No, Rogue, you are not going to wimp out now," she told herself sternly in tears, "this is the last chance you have to tell him how you feel, even if he isn't alive, he needs to know…you need to do this."
Rogue thought about what Bobby had said about closure on her relationship with Remy when Remy had first arrived with amnesia and Rogue had discovered he might never have his memory back. Bobby had been wrong then, but now, he was right, she needed closure, to finalise the relationship and say the things that were unsaid that needed to be said. Only then could she let go of him once and for all.
She stepped up slowly to the bed, every step felt as if it were drawing her nearer and nearer to her worst nightmare. Her breathing quickened, her trembling seemed to become far worse than it was before, every limb quaking, her fingers tingling, lip quivering.
His face was covered, although she could see the slight contours of his nose and chin beneath, she stared down at him, wondering if she should really remove that sheet from his face and look at him one last time or leave him as he is, and remember him as she'd seen him years ago, handsome, with that knowing smirk and dark intense eyes.
But the image of him from years ago did not stick in her mind, for now all she saw was the ugly reality of hours ago when he'd jumped from the balcony in the foyer, and then lying across the marble floors, lifeless.
She couldn't bring herself to speak yet, she just continued to stare at the body.
"I can't do this," she said to herself she turned away again, and closed her eyes tightly trying to block out the mental image of Remy as she'd last seen him, but it was still there, the way he'd looked at her with those eyes of torment, it hadn't looked like him, it had looked like a stranger.
He was a stranger, she told herself in thought, he was just the wreckage left behind from Remy's misfortune, and she couldn't blame herself or Kitty for what had happened to him in the end, as somehow, Remy's problems had mounted on to that wreckage and finally broken all that was left.
Rogue turned back to the body again and looked at it, "You need to do this, Rogue, you need to do this, you need to see him one last time, just so you know this isn't a dream – a nightmare. You need to see him and tell him you love him and then you can move on…" she told herself angrily, "you cannot back out now."
She reached out slowly, taking a hold of the hem of the sheet and pulling it ever so slowly from him, first revealing his hair, then forehead, then lightly closed eyes. She was almost shocked how peaceful he looked as she removed the rest of the sheet from his face, it almost looked as if he might just be sleeping. His skin still looked warm and she was almost tempted to take off her gloves and touch it just to make sure. But she knew there was no use, there was no mistaking he was deceased.
She couldn't help but just stare at him, he was so physically perfect, he almost didn't look real anymore. She felt such sadness well up within her that she'd never see that knowing smirk again playing upon those lips of his, that she'd never hear his voice, his romantic French, and she'd never ever feel his kiss. She felt more tears come and she sobbed, unable to speak to him, despite this had been her intention.
It seemed that if she spoke to him and said what she needed to it would be admitting that he really was dead, and she didn't want to do that, she didn't want to never see him again, although somewhere all the logic in herself reminded her that this was impossible.
Something caught her eye from where she stood. She'd pulled the sheet just below his chest, inadvertently admittedly. He was still wearing the dark grey zip-up hooded top he'd been wearing when he'd jumped, although now it was a little rumpled. If it hadn't been, she might not have noticed what she did.
Feeling slightly perverse about what she did, she pushed the sheet down a little more, and unzipped the top, opening it up fully and staring down at his bare torso. Something didn't seem right, and it seemed that whatever it was had to be significant for her to have noticed.
She thought back to having seen him topless in the past, she closed her eyes, trying to picture it, and then it came to her, her eyes snapped open and she stared again gaping. Quickly, she pushed the sheet down further, grabbed upon the waistband of his jogging pants and pushed them down his hip to examine there also. Something definitely wasn't right and now she had quickly discovered what. She began to hyperventilate, eyes wide, she jumped back from the body, hands against her mouth, she kept stumbling backwards until she slammed into the door and heard it rattle as she did so.
"Rogue?!" she heard Hank's voice suddenly concerned from the other side as he too had heard the door rattle as he'd been waiting outside.
Rogue moved away from the door, backing into the corner shaking her head, she was trembling so violently that she could barely control herself.
The door swung open and Hank rushed in, "Rogue, what is it...?" he asked, rushing over to her.
Rogue shaking still, breathing fast, raised a hand, pointing a trembling finger at the body, unable to speak, eyes wide as they could go.
"What, Rogue, what?!" Hank asked, taking a hold of her sleeved arms and shaking her a little to try and bring her back to herself.
Finally, Rogue found her voice, although it took several stammering attempts to say what she had to say, "That's not Remy…"
(The end – or is it? DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN. Okay, so am I still going to receive death threats in the email? I've been dying to write those three little last words in this story since October! Weeeeeee.
Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing – reviews are so nice, they're my favourite part of writing these just to find out what people thought, especially Ishandahalf and Rogue4787 who give lengthy reviews and say what they really think and not just "love the story, what's going on". I love their conspiracy theories and all the rest! Thanks guys. Oh and thanks to Aro who's waited since like December to see this happen! LOL.)