Disclaimer: I don't own anything really. Just some parts of the idea, the rest are NightGoddess's.
Author's note: This is what comes of watching Star Wars, Serenity, and Boston Legal in one day. And for your sake and my sake, I don't do accents. I'm bad enough at it.
Chapter the First
Remy LeBeau awoke in a dark cell. This was to be unexpected nor very unusual for Remy. When one lived as a thief and rebel of a totalitarian state, cells were a sort of occupational hazard.
His head swam hazily, making his vision hazy. This made little difference to Remy, he already knew what he would find. It was typical Imperial employ. Two bunks shoved against a wall with something that was like a mattress but didn't really deserved to be called that, and a blanket covered the two protruding planks. Hard stone floor and hard stonewalls and a power inhibitor circled his neck.
Starched, routine, Imperial. Boring.
With a grunt of effort, Remy pulled himself into a sitting posistion. The slow movement sent his body wild with pain and his eyes teared over and he fall back against the floor.
That was also unsurprising but painful. Slowly, Remy moved his hands to his shirt and lifted his shirt to peak a look down it. A long gash down his chest and a thrumming pain in his side spoke over a problem with a rib or three. The events that had happened before his capture were hazy from the massive bump on his head.
"All right, Remy, on the count of three. One," Remy's hand sought the edge of the bunk protruding from the wall, gripped it hard. "Two," He took a deep breath and braced himself. "Three," he grunted as he yanked himself upright. Pain speared through his body again and he had to grip the bed hard to keep him from ending up flat on his back again.
An intense heat washed over his body and Remy pressed his hand to the sore spot on his rib cage and took deep breaths trying to reduce the pain and the heat. Slowly it subsided and Remy gave a sigh of relief.
He sighed and ran a hand through his auburn hair. It falling into his dark eyes and he tried to formulate a plan. However the rushing pain in his skull quickly destroyed the notion. Remy looked again at his surroundings. "Well," he croaked. "I have plenty of time to think. Cause I doubt I'm getting out of here anytime soon."
Again bracing himself against the pain, he managed to maneuver himself onto the bed, rear end first and with the least amount of pain possible. However before he closed his eyes again, Remy surveyed for the cameras that must be there. Ah. There was one. He'd have to get up close and personal with that camera, see what type of functions it had. How careful he'd have to be about keeping his mouth shut.
He pulled the blanket over him and closed his eyes.
Remy moaned as sunshine poured across his face and rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head determined to catch a little more sleep. He lay on his side and suddenly thought invaded his peace.
His room had no window. Where was that sunshine coming from?
He shouldn't be able to lay on his side without screaming in pain.
And this mattress was by far too thick and wide to be the plank that he fallen asleep on.
Slowly, Remy opened his eyes and sat up. He was definitely not in the room that he fallen asleep in. The walls were not the gray, pitted, and oddly moist walls of a cell. These walls blushed a deep, sultry red. The plank was gone in its place was a sinfully large bed that was the perfect mixture of firmness and softness.
"Maybe I'll get a good night's rest before they drag me out of here and stick me in the electric chair," Remy considered, a bittersweet grin crossing over his face. Slowly, not sure if this was an illusion brought on by a pain driven mind, Remy swung his feet over the side of the bed and placed them on the ground.
It held firm. Remy took a deep breath and pinched himself, hard. The pain was dull but definitely there.
His eyes dropped to the cool but not cold wood floor and knew that not even his grand, overactive imagination could have conjured up what was beneath his feet. The entire floor was made of wood, wood that had been extinct for over two hundreds years. His thieves instincts were practically drooling at the amount of money it must of cost, and that was just the floor. His sheets were silk too.
What exactly was going on here?
They were trying to disorient him, trying to confuse, trying to mess with his head.
But not this rebel. Not now. He had to get back to base. But he wasn't going anywhere for awhile, might as well explore some more.
He stood and looked at the three doors in the room. One led to a closet, which was stacked with well made clothes that were, it seemed, Remy's measurements. He pulled a shirt from a hanger and held it up to him. Perfect.
He let it drop from his fingers to fall into a liquid black pile on the floor and moved over to the next door. Gambit groped for a moment for the light switch and even the number of mansions he'd invaded (a number that was well into the hundreds) had never had had anything as opulent as this.
A huge sunken whirlpool that Remy could have stretched out was tucked into the corners. It was made completely of white marble. The outer surface was set with in a mosaic of onyx, jade, and lapis. Items were arranged on a luxurious sink. There was no window in this room, however, unlike the other two. A shower stall, made of polished marble like the tub, was tucked into a corner. Personal grooming items were arranged on a luxurious sink. There was no window in this room, however, unlike the other two.
So they were going to give him a modicum of privacy. Why bother? Weren't there cameras trained on him anyway. Or were there. He narrowed his eyes and swept them around the room, looking for the tell tale signs of circuitry and electronics, and saw none.
Gambit had to stifle a laugh. So they wouldn't be dogging him as much as he thought. Privacy, sweet privacy. He'd have it.
He'd get out maybe after all.
The third door, Remy would guess, led to a living room. A plush leather couch was flanked by a pair of loungers. Several highly polished tables and bookcases were tastefully arranged throughout the room, many bearing expensive-looking works of art. Two bookcases, nearly as tall as he was, were placed on either side of the door. Their ornate metal worked spires flanked the door like a trellis. Gambit reached over and pulled a book from the shelf: "Gaining power through . . ." Gambit didn't bother finishing and simply dropped the book on the floor. Imperial pro da.
Flickers of lights shown through a large window at the end of the room, catching Luke's eye. He gazed out into the coming dusk and had to admit. the magnificent view. The lights of the city twinkled like an endless starscape, glittering off the crystal spires of adjacent wings of the palace. The huge pane of glass stretched from floor to ceiling. He reached out a hand and felt the expected sting of a protective shield.
This was certainly better than the rebel base. "Maybe I don't want to leave," he mumbled. If there wasn't the threat of his impending doom hanging over his head, this might be very enjoyable.
He heard a door open and the fall of tumblers. Remy whipped around, and there stood a woman in dark violet dress that clung to every curve of her body, and there seemed no end to curves. The dress was slit high up both legs and a plunging neckline revealed a full chest.
"What's your pleasure, sir?" She purred in the most sinful way possible.
Scratch that. Don't want to leave at all.