The Jean Grey School, Westchester, New York
The Past, Four Weeks Ago
Remy floated out of a daze, barely cognizant of the passing landscape. From where he slouched in his seat in the van, Remy could see that trees had replaced tall buildings. He pushed himself upward and looked out the window. He saw that the scenery had changed. He was no longer in the city, but out in the suburbs. Remy saw large stately houses set back in neat lawns. Trees clustered in groups of threes and fives, skirted by aprons of fresh brown mulch. There were long driveways of smooth concrete leading up to garages with three doors or more. Each home was framed by a tall, decorative fence. Bobby drove the van through a picturesque town of cedar shingled and wood-sided buildings, their windowsills painted in crisp white paint. There were trees here too, dainty little trees on either side of the street along with ornate wrought iron lampposts. Expensive vehicles drove the streets.
Where the hell am I? Remy thought.
The two adults in the front seat were talking quietly. Remy realized they were speaking about him as if he weren't there. He was used to that, his father and Tante Mattie did it all the time. Remy turned from staring blankly out the window to watch Storm and Bobby's interaction.
"We should take him straight to the infirmary," Storm was saying.
"He's not going to like that at all," Bobby replied.
Storm sighed. "I realize that Robert, but you seem to be the one who is able to reason with him."
"Oh, you know how he is, 'Ro. As long as you give him a couple of options, he'll go with the flow. When he's cornered and out of choices, that's when he starts to freak out," Bobby said.
"The choices he makes are not the ones I would have wanted for him," Storm said. Her voice sounded sad. "He does not seem to realize he deserves better."
"We can't live other people's lives for them," Bobby said and reached out to take Storm's hand. He squeezed it reassuringly. Remy could see that the two were friends. It was strange to see his captors showing compassion for one another. They both seemed...nice. Remy suspected he might be showing signs of Stockholm syndrome.
Bobby glanced up into the rearview mirror and saw that Remy was awake. "How you doing back there?" he asked.
"Where am I?" Remy asked sullenly. "Where'd you take me?"
"Welcome to Salem Center," Bobby told him. "Nice, hunh?"
Remy turned his attention back to the window. "Looks like Stepford," he muttered.
Storm turned in her seat to look at Remy. "I know you believe you have no reason to trust us," she began. "But we are not your enemies. We do not want you to come to any harm. We want to help you."
"I don't want your help," Remy said. "I can take care of myself."
"It looks like you're doing a bang up job so far," Bobby observed sarcastically.
Remy shot him a dirty look in the rearview mirror.
"Careful, you don't want your face to freeze that way," Bobby said and twiddled his fingers over his shoulder. Remy found his lap littered with snowflakes. They had fallen from Bobby's fingertips.
"You tripped me," Remy accused Bobby. "You made de sidewalk ice."
"This is New York," Bobby said and grinned at Storm. "You have to be prepared for sudden instances of inclement weather."
"How did you find yourself in the underground tunnels, Remy?" Storm asked.
"I found myself cold and wet," Remy answered.
"How did you discover the tunnels? Did you go there seeking shelter?" Storm persisted. When Remy didn't answer she asked: "Did someone send you there?"
Remy's eyes flicked to her, then away. He crossed his arms over his chest.
"Allow us to help you," Storm pleaded. "I know you are frightened."
"I'm not scared. I've met worser folks'n you all," Remy snapped.
"Such as...?" Storm prompted.
Remy glared at her mulishly.
"Look, Remy," Bobby said. "What if we give you a reason to trust us? How about we call your dad? Jean-Luc, right?" Bobby glanced over at Storm for affirmation. "And your...uhm, Aunt?"
"Tante Mattie," Storm supplied.
Remy's heart seized in his chest and he sat up straight in the car seat, the safety belt pulling hard across his chest. How did they know his parents' names? His hands fumbled at the release for the safety belt. He freed himself and once again tried the door, frantically pulling at it.
"Hey, sit tight," Bobby said. "We're nearly there."
"Remy, what is the matter?" Storm asked.
Remy threw himself back into the seat, breathing so hard he felt nearly faint. "I don't know what you think you're gonna do!" he shouted. "If you think you're gonna ransom me or somethin', you'd better think again. You won't get one red cent, I tell you. I ain't even his real son! They don't give a damn about me! Let me go!"
Storm raised a hand. "We have no intention of making any threats," she said. "Or holding you for ransom. We only hope to reassure you. Would you like to speak to your father?"
Remy felt his throat constrict. "I don't know how that'd be possible," he croaked. "When he's dead."
Storm paused. "What makes you believe that he is dead?" she asked quietly.
Bobby had steered them off the main street and was now taking an access road lined with old growth trees. His blue eyes were watching Remy in the mirror.
Remy could barely force the words out of his mouth. "Because New Orleans is gone," he said. "That's where they lived."
Storm regarded him for a moment, then looked at Bobby. "New Orleans is not gone," Storm finally said. "Why would you imagine that?"
"It isn't?" Remy asked, hardly daring to hope. "It didn't get swept away in a storm?"
Storm shook her head. "No. Damaged, yes. But the city is still there."
"But I saw –," Remy started, thinking of the ruined hospital. "And de people aren't all dead?"
"No," Storm told him. "Many casualties. And the city is still healing." She reached out and tapped his knee in a reassuring way. "New Orleans is alive and well, I promise."
Remy nodded to show he understood but didn't trust himself to speak. What that girl, Alice, had told him was a lie. Maybe he could escape back to New Orleans. Maybe Tante Mattie could heal him so he could use his powers again. Bobby turned the van onto a driveway. The tall gates opened before them. Up ahead was a large building, the likes of which Remy had never seen. It had an institutional air, but with strange technological constructions and unexpected additions. Remy thought it looked like a mental hospital for elite space aliens. Remy stared at the building as it loomed before him. The tall windows reflected the pale sky like strange white eyes.
Bobby parked the van before the stairs leading up to the front doors. He unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed from the cab, reappearing at the side door. He slid aside the side door. Remy remained seated, waiting to see what Bobby would do next.
"Are you just going to sit in the van?" Bobby asked. "C'mon. Hop out." He held out a hand to help Remy down from the van.
"I don't want t'be here," Remy said. "What is dis place?"
"It's the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning," Bobby told him. "Let's get you settled in. Or would you like to check in with the doctor first?"
"Neither. Take me back to de city," Remy said.
"That's not an option right now," Bobby informed him. Storm had joined Bobby and they stood waiting. "You need some food and some rest. You look like you're about to keel over."
"We have a room for you," Storm told him. "We want you to feel welcome."
Remy wanted to shake his head, but it was swimming. Instead he just said: "No!"
"Oh for –! Get out of the van!" Bobby said with frustration.
Remy gripped the seat. "No! I want to go back to New York!"
"Don't make me come back there, mister," Bobby threatened.
Storm smiled a bit. "Remy, I know you are not yet an adult, but this behavior is childish. You are acting as if you were seven."
Remy thought that darkly humorous. When he was seven, he had shot a man point blank in the stomach with a handgun he'd stolen from a prostitute. If Remy hadn't seen the man beating that prostitute to within an inch of her life, Remy wouldn't have stolen that gun and he wouldn't have shot that man. Those actions were not those of a typical seven-year-old. So now that he had the opportunity to act as a seven-year-old would, he was going to. He pouted at Bobby.
"Fine," Bobby said. "We'll just leave you in the van." He made to slam the van door. Remy hoped he would. He could hot-wire this van easily.
"We cannot do that, Robert," Storm said, staying his arm.
Robert paused. "Why not? He doesn't want to get out."
"Because he will steal the vehicle," Storm said.
Remy turned his pout to Storm.
"Okay, you can get out on your own. Or. We can drag you out," Bobby said. "In front of the school, all the teachers, and students, and staff. They would love that. Give 'em something to talk about for weeks."
Remy put his hand to the side of the door and climbed out of the van. His head spun and he broke into a cold sweat. For a moment, his vision clouded over. Storm put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from swaying.
"Well, he's not running anywhere," Bobby said.
"Run where?" Remy panted. "Johnny and Janie Whitebread's mansion down de lane? Back into to Crackertown?"
"Very funny," Bobby said to Remy. To Storm he said: "Maybe we should take him to the infirmary?"
"I'm okay," Remy said. He was forced to admit he wasn't going anywhere. "I just want t'lay down."
Remy found the front steps to be daunting. One of the large front doors opened. A young woman with brown wavy hair stood at the threshold.
"What, another one?" the woman asked with annoyance. "I'm going to give Hank a piece of my mind."
"This is not Henry's doing," Storm said. She supported Remy on one side, while Bobby held him by the arm on the other. As the young woman stepped back into the foyer, Bobby and Storm shepherded Remy into the school. There were four teen boys standing just inside the front door. One of them looked like a younger version of Bobby. One of them had wings. Remy came to a sudden halt and stared at the blond-haired boy. He was a for-real angel. The four boys looked at Remy with curiosity. Remy thought about how much he hated being stared at, so he looked away from the angel and focused on the carpeted floor between his feet instead.
"But where did he come from?" the woman asked.
"This is something we can discuss when Remy is feeling better," Storm said.
"We're going to put him in one of the empty dorm rooms for now," Bobby said.
"There's the room I just got ready for the new student," the woman suggested. "Why don't you take him there?"
There was a curving staircase that led up to the second level. A trio of girls stood at the top on the landing. All three girls were blond and looked exactly the same. As Remy was led up the staircase, he spied them looking at him and he stumbled. For an instant, his chest had tightened in fear. But none of the three girls was Alice. One of the girls turned to her sisters and some kind of silent communication passed between them. They all smiled. Remy felt his face burn. Remy was winded just from climbing the staircase. Bobby had kept a firm grip on his upper arm all the way up the stairs. He now steered Remy down the hall and (thankfully) away from the three eerie blond girls. Bobby took him down a hallway nearly to the very end. Bobby stopped before a dark paneled door and pushed it open. It lead to a room at least three times larger than the one Remy had at home. He felt almost agoraphobic. They were facing a pair of tall narrow windows framed by dark red curtains. Before each window was a full-sized bed, neatly made with blankets in the same color as the curtains. The walls were a warm cream color, the floor dark wood. A nightstand and a lamp stood between the two beds. An open door revealed an empty closet. A second door led to a bathroom.
"Here you go," Bobby said, gesturing at the bed.
Remy eyed the second bed. "Do I have to share?" he asked. Sharing was something of a foreign concept to him, especially when it came to his personal space.
"Yeah, I don't think I could legally do that to another student," Bobby said. "Cruel and unusual punishment. You're on your own, kiddo."
Remy took a few hesitant steps into the room and then turned to look at the two adults.
"We will check on you, if you need anything," Storm said kindly. "In the meantime, you should get some rest."
Bobby pointed at him. "Don't trash the room," he said.
"I'll make no promises," Remy said and held his arms to his sides helplessly. He turned and sat on the edge of the bed. Remy gazed sightlessly at the empty closet, willing the two adults to leave.
Bobby and Storm looked at one another. Bobby shrugged and said: "Sleep tight! Don't let the bed bugs bite. Though if they did, consider it karmic retribution." He then closed the door.
With the door closed, Remy stood. He braced himself on the nightstand and walked to the other bed. He walked around the room, touching each piece of furniture and running his hand along the walls. He set the empty hangers in the closet swinging. There was a dresser, but the drawers were empty. Remy went into the bathroom. There was another door on the far side of the bathroom. When Remy opened it, he found there to be another dorm room. Judging by the clothes and shoes tumbling out of the closet, the posters hung on the walls, and the personal items scattered on top of the dresser and nightstand, this room was occupied. Remy wandered into the room, looking at the other boys' possessions. There was nothing worth stealing. He returned to the bathroom. There was a toothbrush on the countertop, presumably one of the other student's. The thought of having to share the bathroom made him uncomfortable. At home, his room and the small bathroom nearby was Remy's and his alone. Though he thought nothing of invading the privacy of someone else's home, Remy was possessive of anything that had been given to him. At one time, Mercy had tried to straighten his room. When Remy had caught her at it, there had been a fight. Jean-Luc eventually appeared to see what all the screaming was about. His verdict was to tell Mercy to leave Remy be. Remy thought himself victorious until Jean-Luc continued: If the boy wants to wallow in his own filth, let him. It's not worth the fight.
Remy returned to the empty dorm room and closed the bathroom door. There was a small deadbolt in the door, so he locked it just in case one of the other boys thought to come into this room. He locked the bedroom door as well. Remy sat on the bed and pulled off his ill-fitting tennis shoes. He shrugged out of his jacket and set it on the foot of the bed. He lay down on top of the bedclothes thinking he would just close his eyes for a short while.
It seemed that he was not sleeping at all, but floating in a twilight state where time stood still. He was aware that he was in a bed, but the placement seemed to change each time he rose out of the fog. Remy felt so cold he began to shiver. His hands clutched at the blankets and he wrapped himself in them. He curled up in fetal position in the center of the bed and convulsed with shivering. A moment later, he was sweating. He kicked off the bedclothes. At one point, the throbbing in his head became so extreme that it roused him to consciousness. Everything now seemed so sharply in focus it could slice through him like broken glass. He clutched his skull and moaned. The next time he revived, he was laying sprawled face-down on the bed. Now his neck was painfully stiff. It was still daylight out. Light streamed through the unshaded windows, blinding him. He found his pillow to be damp. His broken ear had leaked a trail of blood and fluid onto the sheets. Remy buried his head under the pillow. Now he was sweating again, but his body was freezing. He drifted on the bed; he imagined the mattress to be like an iceburg left floating out at sea. He fumbled around blindly, but could not find the blankets. Remy gave up, exhausted, and continued to float. Someone touched his shoulder and shook him gently. It must be Sunday. Mercy was trying to wake him for Mass.
Go away, Mercy, he said. Let me sleep.
When Remy revived again, he found himself on his back. The curtains had been drawn and the covers were pulled up over his chest. With painful, stiff slowness, Remy turned his head and saw there was a glass of water on the nightstand. It had been left on a tray with two pills and a written message like one of the notes in Alice In Wonderland. The note instructed him: Take these.
Thinking the pills would make his headache go away, he put them into his mouth and drank the entire glass of water in one greedy gulp. Panting, he sat up and put the glass back onto the nightstand. His stomach instantly revolted and Remy was forced to dash to the bathroom. He fumbled at the lock and barely made it inside before heaving the contents of his stomach into the sink. Shaking, Remy sank onto the floor, his back braced against the bathroom cabinets. Remy didn't remember how he got back into the bed. Now he was sitting, his head and shoulders supported by the pillow propped against the headboard. He looked over at the other bed and saw it was occupied. There was another boy there and Remy now saw he was in a hospital room in Big Charity. The other boy was pale in the dimness, but Remy could see that his irises were red. Remy realized he knew the boy, he had seen him in the moments before he had time-traveled.
You're not a boy, Remy told him. You're an old man.
Sometimes, the boy said and smiled enigmatically.
What are you doing here? Remy asked. Are you sick?
The other boy nodded. Nearly always, he responded. This place is like a second home to me.
The hospital? Remy asked. But you can't stay here. The hospital was destroyed.
Now Remy could see that the walls were crumbling. The sheets covering him were damp and filthy. Remy lay helplessly on the bed, his head turned towards the pale boy. Where will you go now?
The past, the boy answered. Where it's safe.
But you told me to go forward, Remy accused. It's not safe here.
The boy raised his hand. In his pale fingers he held the pager to call the nurse. Help will come when you call, the boy told him.
Remy's hands searched the bed for his pager. He couldn't find it. He closed his eyes slowly. He wanted to ask the boy more questions. The Witness usually wasn't so forthcoming. When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the dorm room. Remy sat up, bracing himself on his arms. He pulled his legs over the side of the mattress and put his feet to the floor. Remy picked up the empty glass and staggered to the bathroom. He refilled the glass in the sink and sat on the edge of the bathtub. Remy drank the glass of water in tiny sips until it was gone. This time, the water stayed down. He filled the glass a second time and wandered back into the bedroom. Somehow it was still daylight. Remy climbed up into the bed and knelt to look out the window. He could see there were students out on the lawn.
The sky was a soft blue with low puffy white clouds. The students seemed to be happy to be outside. He could hear them muffled through the glass, their voices raised in shouts and laughter. Remy rested his forehead on the window glass to look down on them. There were two-dozen teenagers, perhaps more. Some were playing a game of field hockey on the lawn. They were all dressed in matching uniforms, though the students could not have been more different from one another. Remy imagined that they must all be mutants. Remy watched the students run from one end of the lawn to the other, chasing a ball. Others stood on the sidelines in clusters of threes and fours, talking and laughing. Remy tried to imagine himself on the lawn amongst them, waiting and wanting to play the game, but couldn't picture it as a reality. Down below, a quartet of girls walked out from the shadow of the school to join the others on the lawn. Remy saw they were the blond-haired girls he'd seen on the staircase. He watched them as they clustered together, walking separately from the other students, content with their own company. Many of the other boys had paused to admire the girls, they were very pretty. Three of the four girls walked closely together. The fourth lingered behind. As if she could sense him watching, the girl turned her head to look up at Remy. The girl smiled. It was Alice.
Remy jolted with fright. The glass of water dropped from his hand to hit the mattress and then fall onto the floor where it smashed.
"Oh!" said a voice. "Are you all –?"
Remy let out a yelp and turned. The brown-haired woman he had seen earlier was half-in and half-out of the closed and locked bedroom door. As Remy watched she passed entirely through it as if the door was an illusion and not solid at all. Remy cried out in surprise and fell off the opposite side of the mattress to land on the floor. He hastily scrambled away to the far side of the room, his back coming up against the wall.
"Don't be scared!" the woman said and raised one of her hands. "It's just me!"
Remy's eyes were wide as he took in the woman's appearance. He had no idea who the woman was, but she appeared completely harmless and normal. "Are...are you a haint?" he asked.
"A what?" she asked, confused.
"A haint! A spook!" Remy clarified.
"What?" she said again, her arms dropping to her sides. "What? No! I'm not a ghost. I'm a mutant, like you."
Remy watched her carefully, thinking she was nothing like himself at all.
"I can make myself intangible," she explained and gestured at the door she had phased through. When Remy continued to stare at her blankly, she added: "I can pass through solid objects."
Remy frowned and began pulling himself to his feet using the wall as support. "I know what 'intangible' means," he said sulkily.
"Oh. Well, I'm sorry I scared you. I thought you might still be asleep," the woman said.
"So you snuck in here to watch me, or what?" Remy asked.
The woman frowned a little. "You were very sick," she said. "You've been asleep for nearly two days."
Remy felt a jolt of surprise. It was shocking to think he'd lost so much time when it felt as if he'd only just arrived.
"I'm glad you're up," the woman said. "We were thinking we should move you down to the infirmary. But if you think you can manage some food and water –."
"I'm fine," Remy interrupted.
"Here, I brought you these." The woman was holding three paperback books in one of her hands. She held them out as she walked towards him. When Remy made no move to approach her, she stopped and instead placed the books onto his nightstand. "I thought if you woke up, you might want something to do," she explained.
Remy looked at the books. The Great Gatsby, To Kill a Mockingbird, and The Scarlet Letter; he'd read them all ages ago. At least there was no Steinbeck, that was a relief.
The woman gestured at the pile of books. "It's what the other students are reading," she said. "For school."
Remy returned his attention to the woman. "I can't read," he told her.
She looked surprised, then her expression grew pained. "You can't?" she asked sympathetically. "Oh...I – I'm sorry. I can help you if –."
Remy made an impatient sound. "No, I mean, I know how to read! But the doctor lady said I shouldn't. On account of me banging my head."
The woman looked relieved. Remy felt angry at her. "I've read all those books all ready," he told her snappishly.
"Maybe when you're feeling better I can bring you some different ones," she said and reached to retrieve the books.
"No!" Remy said suddenly, thinking he didn't want her to take the books back now that she'd all ready given them to him. The woman startled. "I can read them again," Remy continued more evenly. "I don't mind de same books more'n once."
"Okay," the woman said, exasperated. "I'll leave them. Just don't do any unprescribed reading until we talk to Hank about your head. In the meantime, and if you think you're up to it, we could go down and get you something to eat. It's nearly lunchtime."
Remy was reluctant to leave his room. He was nervous about meeting any of the other students and particularly frightened to see Alice again. He wondered if he hadn't imagined her out on the lawn.
"Is there an Alice that goes t'school here?" he asked.
The woman blinked. "Alice? No...but do you mean Alisa?"
Remy's stomach flipped. "A blond girl? With red eyes?"
The woman shook her head. "No," she said. "Do you know an Alice? Where did you meet her?"
Remy shrugged. He was still frightened. If Alice wasn't out on the lawn, then he must have dreamt her up.
The woman frowned. "All right. I put some clothes in the dresser for you, and your coat is in the closet. If you want to get cleaned up and changed, I can take care of all this broken glass." She gestured at the shattered glass on the floor. "Be right back."
When she left, Remy moved to the dresser. He found undergarments and socks in the drawer. The closet contained dark trousers, a white button-down shirt, a jacket with the school logo on the breast, and a tie. Remy looked at the clothing with incredulity. There was no way he was going to wear those clothes. He found his coat on a hanger as well. Remy took it from the closet and returned to the dresser for a white undershirt. He doffed the blue tee-shirt he was wearing onto the bathroom floor, changed his shorts and socks, and returned to his jeans. After pulling on the clean tee-shirt, he looked at himself in the mirror. He could see his face was pretty much a mess, as was his hair. Remy did what he could with hot water from the tap. Usually, his hair stood on end with all the pent-up energy he retained from not using his powers properly. Now it just looked kind of limp and dirty. He tamed his hair with his fingers. Returning to the bedroom, he found the woman brushing the shards of glass into a dustpan. She stood and tapped the dustpan into a nearby waste bin.
She looked him over, and even though her mouth made a disapproving crimp in the corner, she did not comment on his appearance. "Well, if you're ready," the woman began, pausing to see if Remy might reconsider his choice in clothing, "we can go downstairs. You can meet my students. Oh, rats. I forgot to tell you who I am. My name's Kitty. You can...call me Professor Pryde, I suppose." She walked towards the door as she talked. She passed through the wood and Remy stared at the place she had disappeared. Kitty's hand reached back through the door and she unlocked the door, then pushed it open. Remy thought if he had that power, he'd never have to bother cracking a safe again.
Remy hesitated at the open doorway, looking down the hall after Kitty. She was putting the dustpan and broom into a closet. "You okay?" she asked over her shoulder. "Do you need some help?"
Remy slowly followed after her. They went back down the stairs to the ground floor. They passed down several halls with open doors that led to empty classrooms. When they approached a main hall, Remy could smell food. It didn't smell very good. Kitty ushered him through a pair of swinging doors into a large open cafeteria full of round tables, each of them surrounded by chairs. There were only a few people in the cafeteria, all of them adults. There was a lunch line with a food counter. Kitty led him towards the counter and gave him a plastic tray. There was a woman behind the counter. She was tall and dark-skinned with short hair. Remy glanced at her, then looked back at his empty tray. The woman was watching him with avid interest.
"Holy hell," the woman said.
"Joanna," Kitty said with warning in her voice. "Not one word."
"Look at him!" Joanna shouted with delight. "He's so adorable, I could crush him!"
"Joanna, could we just have some lunch without your color commentary?" Kitty asked.
"Aww!" Joanna continued. "Hey, half-pint! What'll you have then? A baby bottle?"
"Knock it off," Kitty growled.
Remy looked back up at Joanna, whose face was smiling with malicious glee. Remy looked the Amazonian woman over appraisingly. "Would you be willin' t'nurse me?" he suggested. "I wouldn't mind bein' bounced in your lap."
"Haaa!" Joanna said loudly. To Kitty she said: "Can I keep him?"
"Food. Now," Kitty answered and pointed at Remy's empty tray.
Joanna made a face at Kitty, then picked up a plate and ladled something onto it. The food dropped from the metal ladle with a splat. Joanna shoved the plate over the top of the counter in Kitty's direction.
Taking the plate down from the counter, Kitty turned and set it onto Remy's tray. Remy looked down at the unidentifiable contents. As if his life weren't Dickensian enough, he imagined himself as as an inverted-Oliver Twist: Please, ma'am...Can't I have some less? "What is dis?" he asked.
"Joanna's specialty," Kitty said and put a piece of bread and a cup of Jell-O onto the tray, then guided him towards a table. "Tuna noodle casserole."
Remy's nose wrinkled. He sat in one of the plastic chairs and Kitty sat beside him. "Aren't you eatin'?" he asked her.
"I've had my fill of whatever Joanna dishes out," she told him. Kitty glanced up at the double doors when they opened. She waved a hand to beckon the four teenage boys standing in the open doorway. One of them, the one in red glasses, nodded at her before proceeding to the lunch line.
Remy moved the noodles on his plate around with his fork. His stomach was not feeling very agreeable. Remy saw there were peas amidst the grayish noodles. He hated peas. Just the thought of one of those green pustules popping between his teeth triggered a gag reflex. Remy looked at his plate with despair, knowing he had to make some attempt to eat. He moved a noodle onto his fork, carefully inspected it front and back for any peas, and then put it into his mouth. Chewing and swallowing nearly brought tears to his eyes.
"Are you feeling okay?" Kitty asked him. "Let me get you some water."
She rose and departed just as the other four boys came to the table. Remy didn't really want to look at any of them, but he forced himself to glance up from his plate.
"Hey," he managed.
"Hello," said the boy in glasses. He set his tray down beside Remy's. The other three followed suit. There was the boy who looked so much like Bobby, he might have been his son. The angel sat beside Bobby, and the last boy was positively enormous. He had a small pair of spectacles on the end of his broad nose.
"Do you know us?" the boy in red glasses asked. "I mean, do you recognize us?"
Remy shook his head, then regretted it. His brain felt as if it were floating loose around inside his head. Remy shoved the entire slice of bread into his mouth and chewed it.
The boy looked a little relieved. "I'm Scott," he said. "This is Bobby, Warren, and Hank."
"Hey," Bobby said and held up his hand to wave.
"Are you de other Bobby's kid?" Remy asked him, his mouth full.
"No," Bobby answered as he lifted a fork full of tuna and noodles to his mouth. "I'm his past self. We're all from the past. Weird, right?"
Remy had to agree with that. He swallowed. "De past...? But, how did you get here?" he asked.
"Time machine," said the angel, as if this were the most mundane thing in the world. Remy thought he was joking. He watched as the angel applied salt to his food.
Remy turned to Scott, looking for some kind of real answer. "Professor Pryde told us you had an accident with your powers," Scott said. "And you transported yourself here."
Remy wasn't sure how to respond to that. "I – kind of. I thought I knew where I was going."
"I can't control my powers either," Scott told him, and pointed to his glasses. "Head injury. I have to wear these special lenses."
"Scott's brain damaged," Bobby added. "But you can hardly tell until he starts talking."
Scott wadded up a paper napkin and threw it at Bobby.
Remy felt alarmed. His hand stole to the back of his head, where it was still terribly painful. What if he was brain damaged too, and that was why he couldn't control his powers?
"Won't you get better?" Remy asked Scott.
Scott and Bobby were now throwing things back and forth at one another, much to the angel's annoyance. Warren picked the wadded-up napkin out of his plate. "No, I –," Scott began, as Bobby blew on one end of a straw. The straw wrapper flew off to hit the side of Scott's forehead. Scott picked up the wrapper and stabbed it into Bobby's Coke.
"Hey! That was on the floor!" Bobby said, fishing the paper out of his drink.
"Settle down," Kitty said as she reappeared. She put a glass of water onto Remy's tray. Remy pulled it towards himself protectively and chewed on the straw.
"You haven't eaten very much," Kitty said to Remy. Remy had shoved most of the noodles to the perimeter of his plate in an attempt to make it look as if he'd eaten some.
"I can't eat any more," he told her. That, at least, was the truth.
"At least eat the Jell-O," she told him.
Remy poked at the Jell-O with his spoon. It was green and there were things held suspended in it. He held a spoonful at eye-height and examined it carefully before putting it into his mouth. He didn't like it.
"Where is Jean?" Kitty asked, surveilling the other four boys.
Scott shrugged and stared at his plate, looking morose.
"We don't know where she goes," Warren said.
Kitty blew out through her lips, setting her bangs fluttering. "All right. You boys enjoy your lunch. I'll see you in English Lit. Remy, once you finish that, we can take you to see Hank – er, Doctor McCoy."
Remy looked over at the large boy who had eaten half his double-cheeseburger in one bite. "Not me," he said through his sandwich and pointed at himself. He swallowed. "My older self."
"Dis place is freaking me out," Remy muttered. He glanced up to see the three blond girls walk silently into the cafeteria. He swallowed nervously. "Who are those girls?"
Warren glanced over at them. "The Cuckoos," he said, as if that explained anything.
"Are they...triplets?" Remy asked, hoping that he would get confirmation that there were only three of them.
"No. Clones," Kitty said.
This was not reassuring in the least. Remy stood shakily. He wasn't going to protest Kitty taking him to the infirmary if it meant he would be leaving the cafeteria and the other students. Remy saw a little more of the school as Kitty lead him through the halls. They took an elevator to a subterranean level.
"Is everyone here a mutant?" Remy asked Kitty.
"Just about," she answered. "Some are alien."
Remy had to wonder about the logic of having all these mutants living in one place. It seemed dangerously exposed. He didn't think he would like staying here. Just because they were all mutants didn't mean he had anything else in common with them. As far as he knew, no two mutants had the same powers.
Kitty guided him to a room that had four cleanly made beds. The beds could be separated by curtains that hung from tracks in the ceiling. The room was cool and sterile. There was monitoring equipment at each bedside. Remy didn't like the looks of any of it.
"Wait here while I get Hank," Kitty told him and passed into the next room. This time the went in through the open door, like a normal person. He could see into the next room through a large glass window. Beyond was a lab full of testing equipment, vials and flasks, computers and monitors. Kitty was conferring with someone just out of sight. She turned and returned to the room. Remy saw a massive blue-furred form move past the window to appear in the open doorway.
"Remy, here's Doctor McCoy," Kitty said and pointed at the beast of a man. "He'll take care of you."
Remy could see vestiges of the younger Henry McCoy in the furry blue mutant that now stood at the doorway. Doctor McCoy regarded Remy through his spectacles. "Welcome to the future, my Cajun compatriot. From what I can discern from your perplexed – dare I say: alarmed – expression, you seem to have moved outside the boundaries of your comfort zone."
"You discerned right, mon frère," Remy answered. "Dis here's de bright blue cherry on top of de crazy cake."
Doctor McCoy stood up to his full height and assumed an affronted expression. He plucked at the lapel of his white lab jacket. "Now, as far as physical mutations go, you yourself should know that appearances can be deceiving."
"Are my eyes deceivin' me when I see you've got some big ole needle there?" Remy said and nodded at the metal tray Doctor McCoy was holding.
"Ah," Doctor McCoy said and hastily put down the tray. "Nothing to be concerned about, my young friend."
"Good luck, Hank," Kitty said with an air of believing that Hank was going to need all the luck he could get.
Doctor McCoy waved her off. "Young Remy and I are entirely copacetic," he said merrily and patted one of the sheet draped beds. "Why don't we have a seat?"
"A doctor all ready looked me over," Remy said, not moving.
"Consider this a follow up appointment," McCoy continued. He beckoned Remy forward with one of his clawed mitts.
"I don't need no more shots. She already give me one," Remy continued.
"Doctor Reyes was kind enough to send over your chart," McCoy said, picking up a clipboard from his tray. "How is your ear?"
Remy touched his left ear. "Not good," Remy told him. "Alls I hear is ringing."
"Well that's something, at least," Hank replied. "Let's have a look."
Hank took Remy by the arm and shuffled him forward. Remy was subjected to much of the same examination as what he had all ready endured; the same prodding and poking and questioning. Hank removed a thermometer from Remy's mouth and frowned at the reading.
"You're still feverish," he observed. "Tell me, Remy. When you struck your head, did you lose consciousness?"
Remy thought for a moment. "I guess. For a second or so."
"Vertigo? Lightheadedness? Trouble seeing?" McCoy said, putting his massive hands around Remy's head.
Remy shrugged. "Some," he admitted. Remy thought about what Scott had said about his powers not working right. "You don't think I'm brain damaged, do you?"
"I think we should run a CT scan and perhaps an MRI to be sure," McCoy said.
Remy didn't know what either one of those things were, but didn't like the sound of it.
"Let me calibrate the equipment. I shall return for you momentarily," McCoy said and ambled off into the next room. Remy watched McCoy through the glass and saw the doctor approach a machine that looked like a giant tube going into the wall. There was a flat table coming out of it with a sort of cage-like thing where the victim's head should go.
No way, Remy thought and hopped down off the bed as soon as McCoy's back was turned. He stumbled a bit off balance, catching the edge of the nearby table which sent the metal tray there tumbling. It hit the floor with a clatter. Uh oh, Remy thought. He glanced over his shoulder and sure enough, McCoy was looking over at him. Blue eyes met red and a sudden and very obvious understanding passed between them as if they shared a mental connection. Remy was going to run and McCoy was going to chase him.
"Gaugh!" Remy cried and took off towards the door. He yanked one of the curtains as he passed by and McCoy ran straight into it. The curtains tore free of the ceiling and while McCoy fought with the fabric, Remy ran from the room. He dashed into the hallway and started down it, his shoes squeaking across the metal floor. He spotted the door to the elevator and chose instead to dash for the door beside it. He was glad to have found the stairwell. Remy squeezed himself into the space beneath the lower staircase and the wall and curled up with his knees drawn to his chest. The stairwell door was soon thrown open to bang against the wall. From where Remy hid, he could not see McCoy.
Please go up the stairs, please please please please please... Remy thought with his eyes screwed up tight.
The staircase rattled as McCoy started up it. "Remy!" the doctor called. He muttered to himself: "That little devil...!" The door on the landing above was pulled open and McCoy passed through it.
In a heartbeat, Remy had squeezed out of his hiding space and was back in the stairwell. He scrambled back out the door and returned to the hallway. He pressed the button to call the elevator. When it arrived, he entered and picked the highest floor. The doors closed, sealing him inside. The elevator car began to rise. It released him at the top floor. Remy stepped off into a carpeted hallway. It was quiet. There were doors all along either side of the hall, a window at the very end. Remy went towards it. When he looked out the window, he could see an expanse of rooftop just below. Remy pushed open the window and climbed out. He hung from the windowsill before dropping a few feet onto the angled rooftop. For a moment, he thought he would lose his balance and fall to the courtyard below. He managed to catch himself by falling forward to grab at the roof's peak. Remy breathed in and out, trying to catch his breath. He then turned and braced his back against the wall. He looked down the length of the rooftop. He was along one of the wings. Ahead was another portion of the school that rose up two or more stories. At the top of this central portion was a sort of bell tower. Remy made towards it.
Remy had always been smaller than the other boys his own age. Called Runty instead of Remy by some of the boys who found out later they could've used Remy's size to their advantage. Instead of helping them and working as a team, as many of the street urchins did, Remy went off on his own. He could go places the other boys could not. Remy didn't spend too much time on the actual streets themselves as he did above them, hopping from rooftop to rooftop where he could get the drop on unsuspecting victims or stay high out of reach where no one could get him. Being up high meant being safe.
He was now out in the center of the wing, walking along the peak. Though the sun made an attempt to shine through the clouds, the wind was brisk and chill. It grabbed at his coat and cut right through his thin tee-shirt. Remy hurried towards the shelter of the tower as quickly as he dared. He pulled himself up onto a window ledge, then reached out to grasp the overhang of the rooftop. He dangled from the rooftop by his arms. He rocked his lower body from side to side, using his hands to walk himself out to the decorative masonry at the corner of the tower. Remy dangled over empty space. He put his toes to the masonry and used the stones as a sort of ladder to boost himself onto the rooftop. From there was a short but steep walk to the circular bell tower; like a gazebo set on top of the building with a green copper roof. He threw a leg over the cement railing and pulled himself into the tower. He saw there was a staircase leading down the central part of the tower. Above was a bell. Remy looked out at the landscape. There were a lot of trees, but all of them were bare of leaves. He saw rolling fields and valleys. Nestled in the landscape was the town they had passed on their way here, Salem Center. The landscape looked like a primitive folk art painting, like one by Grandma Moses. It was cute and quaint and not like anything he'd seen in his life.
Remy felt the wind blow a little more fiercely and he wrapped his arms around himself. He was startled when someone spoke.
"I see you have made yet another escape," Storm said.
Remy turned to see her hovering in the air just beyond the tower. "You can fly!" he said with amazement.
Storm smiled at him and the winds drew her forward. She set herself down inside the tower. "I command the winds and weather," she told him. She raised a hand and above the clouds began to move away from the tower, revealing clear blue sky. It became slightly warmer. Remy watched the woman with wonder.
"I caught sight of you from a distance and watched as you climbed across the rooftop," she told him. "I wish you would show more concern for your own well-being. My heart was in my throat."
"I didn't fall," Remy said. "I do it all de time."
"If you were in peak form, I would have every confidence in your ability," Storm continued. She let her cape fall over her shoulders and then moved back to rest against the cement railing.
"I feel better," Remy lied, and moved a little towards her. He came to a halt before her.
"I would feel better if you would allow us to help you. Though I understand your reluctance. I was just your age not so very long ago, and insisted I could care for myself. But I was mistaken. I wish that you would not tell lies and run away. I would like to be friends." Storm seemed sad about this and Remy felt bad about disappointing her.
"Why would someone like you want t'be friends wit' someone like me?" Remy asked.
Storm pressed her lips into a smile. "Because we are so different?" she asked. "I am sure that is how it appears to you. But we are both orphans. We were both taught to steal, to survive on our own. We are both stubborn. We mask our true feelings. We each do things out of a sense of duty and honor. We would neither of us ask for help, out of fear or pride."
Remy looked at her warily. "Why do you think you know me?"
"When we first met, I was a child as you are now. It seems our roles have been reversed. Here I am, the adult. And you, the child who wants to return home," she told him. "I know you in the future, as the man you become."
Remy was still uncertain. "You know future-me?" he asked doubtfully.
Storm nodded.
"I'm surprised I lived so long," Remy observed frankly.
"Why would you say such a thing?" Storm asked.
Remy shrugged. He couldn't explain about the warring Guilds, about his betrothal to Belle, about the inevitability of his fate. He tried to imagine himself at eighteen, as a husband, a peaceful unity between the two Guilds, and couldn't. There was nothing, no future. Remy thought his days were numbered, that he was running out the clock.
Remy asked: "Where am I now? In de future?"
Storm shook her head. "I do not know. Another friend I seem to have lost."
Remy recalled the red-headed woman, dead beneath the shattered chandelier, her blood on his hands. "I'm sorry about...your friend. Jean," he said.
"As am I," Storm told him. "It is the uncertainty that causes me such pain. Not knowing... And that it was my own foolishness that caused her death."
"It was an accident," Remy said and his voice had returned to its higher childish octave, wavering. He tried to clear his throat. "It wasn't your fault."
"I should be so confident as Logan, and place the blame entirely at Sinister's doorstep. Sinister is a madman, a monster," Storm said. "If I could have seen with my own eyes..." She paused for some time to compose herself. "Remy. Did you see her? What was she like? Did you hear her speak?"
Remy shook his head. Storm looked disappointed.
"I'm sorry," he said again, feeling the dangerous worm of guilt twist in his chest. "You didn't kill her. It was me. I did it. It was an accident. I didn't do it on purpose."
Storm was looking at him. "What do you mean, Remy? Because you were there? You did not –."
"I made de explosion," Remy admitted. "The pale man was there, and Jean, and I couldn't control it. Everything just blew up. It wasn't you."
Storm's pale eyebrows drew together in confusion, then her face became placid. "I see," she said.
"I'm sorry," he said again.
Storm nodded at him. "I believe you," she said quietly. "Please go back inside, Remy. I would like a moment to compose my thoughts."
Remy didn't argue with her, he wanted to vanish into the floor. He took the spiral staircase down the center of the tower. He reentered the school through a door at the base of the stairs. After the cold outdoors, the interior of the school should have felt hot. But Remy still felt chilled. He paced down a hall and found the central staircase. From the landing, he could see several floors below, all the way down to the foyer where he had first entered the school. It was called the Jean Grey School, Remy remembered. Jean must have been someone important. He shouldn't have told Storm what he had done. Now the whole school would know he'd killed Jean and they would all hate him, if they didn't all ready. Remy thought he should definitely try to find a way to escape, especially before the animal-man returned. Wolverine would kill him for sure. Remy started down the stairs towards the lower floors and the front door.
The cold had consumed him, it was a chill he could feel in his bones. His ear ached and he put his hand over it, hoping to silence the ringing which had suddenly become quite loud. Remy had reached the last landing before the foyer, where the three blond girls had stood when he first arrived. Remy heard a noise in his bad ear and felt a sharp pain. Wet warmth filled the palm of his hand. He held his shaking hand out before him and saw that he was bleeding again.
Ow, he thought and mindlessly wiped the blood onto his jeans. He could tell that there was something seriously wrong now, warning bells were sounding in his mind. His fingers felt numb and tingled.
"What a mess you've made of yourself," said a voice.
Remy looked up into the red eyes of Alice. He sucked in a breath to cry out in alarm and found he could not. His body was trembling as if caught in an electrical current.
"Now, now," Alice said condescendingly. "Let's not cause a scene. It is not as if anyone else save yourself can see me."
Remy's skull felt as if it were splitting in two. He could not catch his breath; air wheezed in and out of his lungs. The inside of his mouth tasted sharply metallic.
"I am glad you've finally managed a moment alone," Alice continued. "Allow me to dissuade you from making mention of my name again. I do still hold command over your person. If you think to betray me, I shall remind you of the devastating effects your abilities have on mortal flesh...unless you want to see your captors obliterated into bone and ash?"
"No!" Remy gasped, his hands clutched at the fabric of his shirt. He felt his chest constrict. He could simply not pull in enough air.
"Your placement here will benefit me," Alice continued. "There is still the matter of procuring a vessel for my dear broken Ms. Renko. She is so looking forward to obtaining one of the red-haired models. Strange that the fifth spare has not yet surfaced here."
Alice moved towards Remy, faster than an eye blink. "But thanks to you, I have learned of the young and inexperienced X-Men, brought here to the present. I should like very much to meet these promising students...well, two of them in particular. I would have you bring me the young Scott Summers and Jean Grey."
"I won't!" Remy hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. The world seemed strangely warped, the colors becoming impossibly bright. Proportions skewed and straight lines wavered.
"You will. It would be a tragedy to destroy this school and all the students inside of it. To waste such potential..." Alice taunted.
"No!" he cried. Remy gasped and all at once he felt his powers return to him in a rush. Alice looked surprised for a fraction of a second. Remy could register Alice's shock before she was ejected from Remy's mind. He caught her final thought: How is he able –!?
Suddenly free, Remy staggered backwards towards the staircase. In a moment of instinctual self-preservation, his hand caught out at the newel post, but the blood on his hand made his grip slip. He toppled backwards. Remy fell, hitting the first step on his shoulders and then tumbling over. He slid down the wooden steps for several feet, before he turned and rolled the remainder of the way to land on the foyer floor. From where he lay on his back he could see the landing above. Alice had simply winked out of existence. Remy blinked slowly, staring upwards at the ceiling. He was relieved she was gone. But there was darkness closing in on either side, fuzzy blackness that swallowed up the edges of his vision. For several moments, he could not control his limbs. They jerked and spasmed. He felt the tightness in his chest release so spontaneously, he thought he might have burst open.
"My stars and garters," said a voice, and suddenly Doctor McCoy was above him.
There was the sound of footsteps hurrying towards him, then Bobby (the older one) was there as well. "Remy!" he said. "Are you alright? Can you hear me? Hank, what happened?"
"I think he's having a seizure. Bobby, we'll need a stretcher," Doctor McCoy said though his voice sounded far away. "Now try not to move, Remy." McCoy put his hands to either side of Remy's head.
"You'll be okay," Bobby told Remy. "Everything's going to be fine." He moved to fetch the stretcher the doctor had requested.
"Bobby...," Remy managed, calling him back.
Bobby reappeared in his line of vision. "What is it?"
Remy tried to get the words out, but they sounded faint. The world was going black. He forced his mouth form the words: "I want my dad."
~ oOo ~
Next time: Rogue makes a terrible discovery.