Ororo sat on her heels outside Remy's door, her back to the wall. She had obviously just left the room and sunk down there in despair, not even looking up at Hank as he approached.
"Give him hope, Hank, please." She spoke up at last as Hank stopped at the door, her gaze still locked on the floor.
"I fear I have little hope left for him." He replied honestly. She looked up at him, storm-clouds in her eyes as she fought to hold back tears.
"Then give him something. Anything. Show him that he still has a life to live, teach him how to live like this."
"It is not so easy as that." He soothed, taking hold of her shoulder in one huge hand as she rose to stand beside him. Ororo took one deep stuttering breath, and another slightly calmer, reigning in her emotions.
"I know, and I'm sorry," she said, once she felt she had herself under control. "But I cannot stand to see him so… despairing."
"I will find some hope to give him." He promised, making a move towards the door. He paused before he released her shoulder. "Come in with me. I have some propositions that I may need your help instigating." With a nod, Ororo moved towards the door, slipping into the darkness created by the thick curtains. There was just about enough light to see by, and that little was created by what seeped around the edges of the heavy material draping the windows. Ororo walked towards the corner of the room, taking a seat beside Remy before Hank had even spotted him wedged into the corner at the end of his bed.
"'M sorry, Stormy. Din' mean t' shout." A gentle hand guided an auburn head to her shoulder as she hushed him.
"You're forgiven. You need to get these feelings out in the open else they will smother you. I am happy to take a little anger from time to time, if it means you are happier."
"Still rat'er no' shou' at y'."
"Hank would like to talk to you." Ororo mentioned, seeing Hank settle himself into Remy's chair. Remy's head shot up, and a creak of the chair allowed him to locate the doctor in the room.
"Sorry, Henri. Din' hear y' come in."
"No problem, my friend. I did not take a moment to think of quite how rude of me it was to enter unannounced." Remy's lips quirked at the convoluted comment. "I had hoped to talk with you regarding what is to come, though I am happy to return at a more opportune moment, if you would rather…"
"Non, now is fine, Henri. Y' doctor frien' din' give th' answer y' were lookin' for, neh?" The low grumble of a growl echoed through the room.
"Forgive me for taking you to that idiotic ignoramus. He offered nothing I was looking for, and caused you pain as he did it."
"Was seein' stars after he got dat torch out, an' dat's th' trut'." He laughed wryly.
"I have been thinking of the action we must now take. Despite all of the rubbish he spewed, one thing he said rang true. For now all we can truly do with confidence is protect your eyes and allow your body to do as it might."
"Y' t'ink dey ain' gonna heal."
"It is a distinct possibility." Ororo flinched, but Remy's poker face was in place and nothing was going to disturb it. "And we must consider what options we have to make things easier for you."
"Want a way t' get rid a' th' bandages." Remy said straight away. "Don' wan' t' have t' wear dem forever."
"Something I have already considered, my friend. I have an idea, one that I thought particularly stunning, though I have no idea how your eyes will take to the…"
"Hank, you have to explain the idea before you debate its suitability." Ororo reminded, a hint of laughter in her tone. This was positive movement for Remy, anything at this point was positive.
"Contact lenses." Hank stated with a flourish.
"'scuse me?"
"You've considered contact lenses to hide your eyes before, and you were hindered by the inability to cover your red pupil and still be able to see through the lenses." Hank hinted, leaving the implication hanging.
"Only, I don' have t' be able t' see t'rough dem any more." He grinned.
"Opaque lenses would protect your eyes from the light, and you would have the added bonus of appearing… how ever you felt like appearing."
"Y' got anot'er reason fo' dis, I know it…"
"Perhaps…"
"Hank?" Ororo pushed. Hank sighed, lifting his glasses from his face to rub them on the corner of his lab coat.
"Back when Charles started gathering us all together, when we were very young and no one really knew what being a mutant meant, we were quite different people. Jean was rescued from an asylum because she could hear voices, Bobby had been arrested for saving his girlfriend from assault. But perhaps most sad of a sad group of individuals was Scott Summers, a blind boy Charles had found on the streets." Hank paused for a moment, letting that knowledge sink in. It wasn't common knowledge that Scott had been forced to live without his sight before he had met Xavier. "At first we didn't understand why he was there with us, he isolated himself from us. He rarely left his room except with Charles, despite how often we would offer our friendship and support, our guidance around the house. He refused us. He had been in the house a good month or two before we got to see his mutant power in action, and until then I don't think we had understood his sacrifice. Charles worked long and hard with Scott, trying to find his control, or find some physical way of restraining that power. I know, because I often worked with him. I got to know Scott that way, and we became friends through my persistence alone. One time I came upon Charles reading a prospectus and, thinking nothing of it, I tried to read over his shoulder." Hank fell silent for a moment, sinking into his own memories. He had been so confused, young as he was, at Xavier's apparent intention to abandon Scott. "It was for a school for the blind, and the prospectus was well worn, frequently handled. He confessed that he had been to the school a few times to make sure it would be suitable for Scott, should it become obvious that he was going to have to live as he was for the long term. Though he had learned to read and write before his mutation manifested, both skills were useless to him as he was, and he needed skills to go out into the wide world with. It was soon after that he came up with the idea of using the ruby quartz lenses, but I know he sometimes looks through the prospectus, to remind himself that sometimes we must take what is available to us, when we can no longer strive for anything more." Hank finally fell silent, and waited for some reaction from his audience. Ororo was chewing at her lip, obviously troubled by this prospect but waiting for Remy's response.
"Henri, y' say wit' a hundred words what y' could say wit' three. Y' t'ink I should go t' dis school?"
"They can teach you the life skills there that we cannot. It would only be for a short time, you join the school as a border for a month and after that you would take weekly classes as a student. They would cover simple skills such as getting around safely, and more complex skills such as braille." A soft frown, and Remy lifted his heavily bandaged right hand.
"Not sure I'm gonna manage braille, Henri."
"Not yet, perhaps. We shall just have to work harder at getting your hands back in working order." Remy nodded once, firmly.
"Den le's go. Done wit' dis." Ororo's grin was blinding as she helped Remy out of the corner. "How long d' y' t'ink it'll take t' fix m' hands?" Remy asked as he dusted himself off and pulled the tatters of himself back together one more time.
"Two weeks, give or take a day or two, and I'd be happy for you to return to full use as long as you took it slowly. I think after that time I would expect some return of sensitivity to the tips."
"Sooner, th' better." And plans were made that day that would decide the fate of Remy LeBeau, as Logan stood outside his door, feeding him hope and courage along a fledgling link that seemed to grow stronger by the day.