The Jean Grey School, Westchester, New York
The Past, Three Weeks Ago
Remy rose slowly out of delirium, the cobwebs of half-remembered dreams still clinging to his brain as he regained consciousness. His eyes blinked open and cast about, seeking out something familiar. He had thought for a time that Tante Mattie had been at his side, holding fast to his hand and offering him words of comfort. Remy could see now that it must have been a dream. He was alone. There was something stuck to his cheek. He moved to raise his left hand but found it brought up short. Remy glanced down from where he lay propped up on some pillows and saw that his wrist was restrained to the bed rails. Both hands flew upwards in a sudden surge of panic. Remy accidentally struck himself in the face with his right hand, which was not restrained.
"Ow," he said, rubbing his cheek with his palm. He found there was a tube taped to his cheek. Remy let his fingers follow the tube. The tube led into his nose. He wrapped his fingers around it and pulled. Remy gagged, realizing the tube went down his throat, but continued to pull. He felt as if he had been pulling for some time when he finally freed the tube from his nose. He struggled not to vomit and then sneezed several times. "Ughn...," he moaned and tossed the tube aside.
Remy freed his left wrist from the restraint, then untaped and pulled the needle from his arm. There was some kind of plastic device on the end of his finger, and he pulled that off too. The machines that had been quietly beeping to themselves suddenly let out an alarm.
"No!" Remy gasped and suddenly there was a fizzle and a pop as the machine exploded in several short bursts. Remy stared at the now smoking machine, wondering what on earth had caused it to explode. He rubbed his aching eyes with the heels of his hands. He pushed down the sheet and found, to his horror, that he had been catheterized as well. Remy steeled himself for what he had to do next.
It was several long moments later that he was able to climb from the bed with a pained whimper. Remy stood, feeling as weak as a kitten, and wandered towards a nearby sink. His backside felt cold and when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the back of his hospital gown was open. He clutched it closed with one hand and proceeded to the sink. He could see his reflection in the shiny paper towel holder mounted on the wall. His ear had been bandaged. Remy reached up and tugged at the gauze wrapped around his head.
"If anyone cut my hair, there'll be hell t'pay," he told himself. He pulled the bandages off and found that he had an incision behind his ear on the back of his neck. His hair had indeed been shaved around the site of the incision, but he was able to comb his lanky locks over the injury. Remy scowled at his reflection. He rinsed his mouth and face with water from the tap then walked to a nearby cabinet, hoping to find clothing. He found a pile of sheets and some blankets. Remy picked one up and scrubbed his face dry with it. He looked around the small hospital room, hoping to find a solution to his lack of clothing. He saw there was something on the small rolling table by the bed. When he stood before the table, Remy saw that the object was his pocket watch. His hand closed down on the watch and he held it to his good ear to hear it's reassuring ticking. Unfortunately, there was no sign of his coat.
Remy approached the swinging double doors and peered through one of the windows. He could see little in the room beyond. Cautiously, he pushed the door open and stuck his head through the opening. He saw that he was surrounded by a plastic tent. Remy slipped into the tent, now able to see that he was back in the infirmary area where he had first encountered Doctor McCoy. The room was currently empty, but Remy could see that the adjacent room behind the glass was occupied. Doctor McCoy was inside, his back to Remy. The four boys Remy had met in the cafeteria were inside the room as well. Doctor McCoy seemed to be arguing with his younger self. The young Bobby was egging young McCoy on and the angel boy was staring into space with vapid disinterest. It was hard to know what Scott was looking at. With his hand clutching the opening in his gown closed, Remy crept forward. He kept low, hoping to stay out of sight. Remy glanced up at the window as he passed. A red-visored gaze met his through the glass. Remy froze, his eyes growing wide. Scott's mouth opened slightly. Remy shook his head fervently and then put his finger to his lips, begging for Scott's silence. Scott looked confused, but slowly closed his lips. Remy let out a breath and hurried from the room.
He padded down an empty corridor on bare feet. Remy came to the elevator and the adjacent stairwell. He saw that the elevator was in motion, so he took the stairs. Remy climbed up the first flight and came to a door. Remy listened at the door. Hearing nothing, he pushed the door open and looked down another hallway. It appeared to be one of the school corridors. Remy thought he'd heard that kids had nightmares about showing up to school with no pants. Apparently that nightmare was his reality (though his nightmares didn't involve nudity but featured him showing up for a job wearing DayGlo orange).
Remy started slowly down the hall, passing classrooms occupied with classes of a half-dozen or so students. He dashed past each door, hoping not to be spotted. When he reached the end of the corridor, he peered right and left. Every window was inside one of the classrooms. Remy started down the left hallway where it seemed the classrooms were empty. As he made his way to the first empty room, an alarm sounded. Remy jolted and gasped, then cast about for the source of the sound. Students began to pour from the rooms all along the corridor he had just left. Remy dashed forward to the first unmarked door. He pulled it open and sealed himself inside. Did I trigger an alarm? he wondered. Remy found himself inside of a storage closet. It was full of paper and pencils and pens and books and nothing of any use to him. He heard muffled voices through the door. The students did not seem to be in any sort of hurry, nor did there seem to be any kind of emergency. After a few minutes, the alarm rang again. Gradually, the sounds of voices and footsteps faded away as one by one, the classroom doors closed. Remy realized the alarm bell he had heard was a signal to change classes. He exhaled with relief.
He stole from the storage closet and continued down the hall. Remy came to yet another turning. Strangely enough, one end of the hallway was coated in ice and a cold wind blew in his face. As he passed the boys' and girls' lavatory, a sudden burst of steam erupted from the doors, setting them swinging. What the hell? Remy thought. He hurried forward when suddenly, the floor opened up before him like a booby trap. Remy's arms pinwheeled as he hastily stepped backwards to avoid the pit.
"Please provide your hall pass," intoned a bodiless voice. Remy ducked as a mallet swung down from the ceiling with the intent of knocking him into the pit. Apparently, the house was trying to kill any random students wandering the halls between classes. It wasn't unlike the obstacle courses and mazes he was forced to run as an apprentice thief, down in the dank tunnels where the Guild held their trials and ceremonies. Remy glanced down into the pit which was dark and smelled like wet earth. So it was somewhat like the Guild trials, but without the alligators, magical illusions, and the zombies. At least Remy hoped there were no zombies.
Remy skirted the pit and sidled along the narrow edge between it and the wall. Once on the other side, the pit sealed itself, resuming its innocuous appearance. Remy looked about warily, searching for other hidden dangers. In the next hall he encountered a pair of bright yellow canvas carts. As he approached, he saw that the carts were full of dirty laundry. Perhaps he was about to have a bit of luck after all. He could have some clothes, even if they were dirty. Remy heard the murmur of voices coming closer. He searched about for another hiding place, but found none. He clambered into one of the carts, then lay down while pulling the dirty laundry over himself.
" – find him?" said a voice.
"In all likelihood, he is hiding," responded the second speaker who Remy recognized as Storm.
"That's stupid. Why wouldn't he just come here for help?" said the first speaker, who was Bobby.
"It seems he may have drawn the attention of the authorities, and now he is widely believed to be dead," Storm said, her voice more easily heard as she grew nearer. "Perhaps he prefers to maintain that illusion and the anonymity it affords him."
"Yeah, but if Jean is with him –," Bobby began.
"We do not know if the woman in the video is indeed Jean," Storm interrupted.
"But Ororo, why would he go out of his way to protect her if she wasn't?"
"He has reasons to be sympathetic towards a clone," Storm told him. "Of anyone, he was able to get closest to Laura. But he would be just as likely to protect any woman with a pretty face."
"Well, yeah, I guess I see your point."
The pair had passed Remy's hiding spot. Remy held his breath out of fear of discovery (also someone's overripe gym socks were near to his face).
"But still, there's some hope," Bobby continued. "Do you have any idea where he could have gone, where he might have taken her?"
"I doubt he has left the country, at least not while his likeness has gained national media attention," Storm said. "And I have given Rogue every alias of his I knew, should he make any bank transactions. Though I am sure he would have access to cash at any number of the safe houses nearby."
"So we don't really have much of a chance to find him," Bobby said as the pair moved further down the hall.
"I have confidence that he will resurface...eventually. In all likelihood, when we least expect it," Storm said.
"But the clone – or – whoever she is –," Bobby began.
"I trust he will take care of her well," Storm added.
There came a sound of loud footsteps from behind Remy. The two adults paused and turned. "Oh, hey Jo," Bobby called.
"Shut it, Bobby," Joanna responded.
"Yes, it is lovely weather we're having, isn't it? Spring has sprung!"
"Move out of the way," Joanna said and suddenly, Remy felt the cart began to move. It banged into the other cart before being wheeled into the hall.
"Keep up the good work!" Bobby added.
"We'll see how chipper you are when it's your day to do laundry!" Joanna told him.
Remy found himself being trundled down the corridor. Occasionally, he would be banged into walls. There was a shudder as the cart was pushed through a doorway. He and the cart were shoved across the room, rolling smoothly and quickly across linoleum floors to crash into the opposite wall. The door swung shut again and Remy was left with the sound of humming washers and dryers. He emerged from the dirty clothing to find himself in a bright laundry room. The walls were lined with industrial washers and dryers. In the center was a long counter for folding and ironing clothes. Remy climbed out of the cart, his feet coming down on the smooth white floor. He saw stacks of folded laundry. He rushed to a nearby pile and unfolded the first shirt. It was a white button-down. He hastily pulled it on, found a pair of shorts, trousers, socks, and one of the school's jackets. In a nearby closet, he found pairs of shoes all tucked neatly inside clear plastic bags. Remy pulled out a pair in what he thought was his size. Now he was dressed in the school uniform. He tucked his watch into the pocket of his appropriated coat. He spotted himself in the reflection of one of the dryer doors.
"Yup, I look pretty dumb," Remy told himself. He took a moment to fix his hair.
He hurried to the exit, pushed open the swinging door and cast a glance up and down the hall. At the far end of the corridor, he saw the other yellow cart turn the corner. The big woman, Joanna, was pushing it towards the room, but her attention was on her cellphone and she had earbuds in her ears. Remy dashed out of the laundry room and looked for the nearest escape route. He spotted a closed door, its window plastered over with blue and red playing cards. Remy seized the door handle and pushed his way inside. Once inside, he fell against the door to shut it. He listened at the door, hoping he hadn't been spotted.
"Oh, hello," said a voice.
Remy suppressed a startled shout and whirled towards the voice. With wide eyes, he stared at a girl seated behind the small desk. Her expression was one of surprise as well. She was red-haired with fair skin and bright green eyes. She had been drawing in a sketchbook with colored pencils. It seemed she was drawing up fantastical costumes. When she saw Remy looking, the girl put her hand over her drawings, seemingly embarrassed. Remy's eyes leapt back to the girl's. She looked a lot like the woman he had seen dead in Sinister's lair.
The girl stood. "R-Remy?" she asked hesitantly. "Are you...okay?"
Remy's hand still grasped the door handle and he quickly turned to pull it open. The door opened a few inches before Remy found it stuck. The door snapped itself shut by an unseen force, the handle pulled from his hand. Remy gasped.
"Wait!" the girl called and Remy realized it was she who had closed the door somehow.
Now in a panic, he tugged fitfully at the handle.
"Remy, what's wrong?" the girl asked. "Why are you scared? Where are you running to?"
Remy turned to face her. "Who are you? How do you know me?" he demanded.
The girl opened and then closed her mouth. She seemed to come to some kind of understanding. "I'm Jean," she said. Remy paused, confusion coloring his thoughts. It must have shown on his face because she added: "Jean from the past."
He was a little shaken when he stepped away from the door. He took a few halting steps towards the desk. "You're Jean Grey? De Jean Grey, like who dis school is named for?"
Jean nodded, her cheeks flushing. She rolled her eyes a bit. "The very same," she said in a dry tone and then gave an embarrassed laugh.
Remy felt a frightened tremor go through him. "Are you – aren't you... mad at me?"
Jean's fair eyebrows briefly came together. "Mad? No, why would I be mad?"
Remy thought perhaps she hadn't been told that he was responsible for her untimely death. He'd really stuck his foot in it now. He just shook his head and shrugged, uncertain of what to say. "I – I don't –. Uhm. Nothing."
Jean cocked her head and squinted at him. "You think you killed me," she said, as if she had plucked the thought from his mind.
Remy jolted. "No – I – it was an accident!"
Jean sighed impatiently. "Well, don't worry too much about it," she said with some sarcasm. "It's happened at least a half-dozen times or so by now."
Remy was confused by this statement. Jean didn't seem angry at all, just irritated. "I'm...uhm...sorry?"
Jean waved her hand airily and sat behind the desk. Remy sat slowly in the only other chair in the room, feeling fatigued from his adventure so far. He looked about the small empty office. The walls were white and lit with a soft ambient glow from the light fixture above. There was no window and the room was quite warm, almost hot. "What're you doin' here?" Remy asked.
Jean raised and lowered her shoulders. "Spending some time alone. Getting to know myself better," she told him.
Remy couldn't help himself: "Time well spent, chèrie. I wouldn't mind getting to know you better myself."
Jean's mouth curved into a smile before she could prevent it. She attempted an indignant expression, even though her cheeks were pink. "You can't talk to me like that," she told him.
"Should I talk t'you en français instead?" Remy suggested. "La langue d'amour?"
Jean squared her shoulders. "You're supposed to be a professor, and I'm a student. I should report you straight away. We'll see what the headmaster has to say about this."
"Are we role playin'?" Remy asked. "I think I like dis game."
"No, I'm serious," Jean informed him. "In the future, you're a teacher."
Remy let out a short laugh. "No, I'm not!"
Jean grinned. "You are. All the female students want you to be their private tutor."
"What kinda crazy future is dis?" Remy asked. "I'm in a parallel dimension, aren't I?"
Jean sobered a bit. "I'm afraid this is reality," she said.
Remy studied her, seeing the sadness in her gaze even though her mouth was still smiling. "When I asked what you were doin' here, I mean, here in de future...or present. Whenever."
"Oh," Jean said and sighed. "I'm...trying to make things right. Since I've been given the chance...to see – what becomes of me, I thought – I should do something more. Something better."
"You don't want t'go back?" Remy asked.
Jean shook her head slowly, her hair sweeping over her shoulders. "I don't want the future to start yet."
"Well, I can't stay here. I want to go home. De angel boy said there's a time machine," Remy said. "That's how you got here. Can you take me to it? Do you know how to work it?"
Jean glanced down at her drawing pad. "No," she said. "It's broken."
"Broken? But..," he began, before a sort of realization came over him. He asked accusingly: "Did you break it?"
Jean grimaced. "I just wanted more time," Jean said. "As you know, I'm dead in the future."
"Chère, we all dead in de future," Remy told her pragmatically.
She let out a short exasperated sigh. "I know that, Remy. But some of us have less future than others."
Remy thought for a moment. "Time is relative, y'know. You know when you're a little kid and y'think, oh...Christmas will never get here. Or it's summertime and de days just seem long and there's all de time in de world. But as you grow up, days seem like they're shorter and weeks seem to go by quicker? I bet by de time I'm old, like thirty, days'll just be like eye-blinks. I think perception of time elapsing is relative to de amount of time you experience alive."
"That's time in perspective. Time doesn't go faster or slower in a literal sense," Jean said.
"No, listen. You're wrong. Sometimes de longer you want t'delay something, the faster it seems to come up on you. Then there's other times when time just crawls along. Like when you're stuck wit' someone très pénible.And you think you'll never get through just de one hour."
"Well, if I could control time, I would stop it," Jean told him. "And do all the things I want to do before I die for about the hundredth time."
"If I could control time, I'd go back to de past and change it," Remy replied. "And make things better for everybody."
"Hank says you can't do that," Jean told him. "Not without creating paradoxes. You don't want to kill your own grandfather...or worse, become your own grandfather on accident."
"At dis point, I'd settle for just getting back to de past where I belong," Remy said.
"How did you get here to begin with?" Jean asked.
"My own powers took me here," Remy explained. "I saw a bunch of these – ribbon things – and they all showed me different...I dunno. Like what would happen if I went one way and what would happen if I went another."
"Different possibilities?"
"Yeah, I guess. One I grabbed showed my –. Well, one showed me like I was back home," Remy told her.
"Why can't you just do it again?" Jean asked. "In reverse."
"I dunno," Remy replied, feeling sick to his stomach. "I would, but my powers don't seem to be workin' right since I got here. First it seemed like they were turned off. Then it seemed like someone else was controllin' them. Now it's like they're out of control. I'm afraid if I try, I'll blow myself and everyone else up."
"Maybe I can help you," Jean offered. "I know – well, I know the me in the future could use her powers to help Scott control his optic beams. At least temporarily."
When Remy gave her a confused look she added: "Scott's powers. He can blast a force from his eyes. He can control them only by wearing a visor."
"You're kidding me," Remy said, dumbfounded. "What's your powers then?"
"I have telekinetic abilities. I can move things with my thoughts," Jean said. "Also I can read other people's thoughts. But I didn't know that until recently."
Remy gave her a wary look.
"Don't worry," Jean said quickly. "Your thoughts are pretty hard to hold on to. Your head is full of static."
"So you've tried all ready," Remy said, his eyes narrowing a bit, "to read my thoughts."
"Well...yes. Okay, I did," Jean said unapologetically. "They're my powers, I'm...getting to know how to control them. Maybe I read your mind, but at least I didn't kill you."
Remy felt his face burn and he looked away feeling a pinch of guilt in his chest.
"Sorry, that was mean," Jean said. "If it makes you feel any better, it was probably just some dumb clone you killed. Not the real me, but someone else."
Remy stared at her. "No," he said, his voice hard. "It doesn't make it better."
Jean sighed and looked at her folded hands. "I don't know what's wrong with me," she said quietly. "I don't mean to say things like that...they just kind of come out. I feel so angry, anymore. Even though there's no point. It's all so...futile."
Remy rubbed his sweating palms on his knees. "I think I know how you feel," he admitted. "So you think you can help me with my powers?"
"I don't see why not," Jean said, a little haughtily.
"Why would you help me?" Remy asked, somewhat suspicious. "What do you want? Someone you can test your powers out on? I'm not some experiment."
Jean shook her head. "No, don't think of it like that. I don't want anything, just to help."
Remy was having a hard time believing that.
"You helped me," Jean supplied. "Your adult self."
"Why would I do that?" Remy asked. "Was I hitting on you or somethin'? Am I some kind of creepy perv guy who goes after teenage girls?"
She laughed a little. "Well, that's the rumor," she answered and when Remy looked disgusted, she added: "But I don't think it's true. You can be very kind, when you want to be. When you're not being arrogant or self-absorbed."
"Arrogant I'll give you, but I'm not self-absorbed," Remy said hotly.
"Yes, you are. You spend all your time consumed with your own thoughts you don't even know how to be with other people. And the arrogance is a disguise to keep people from seeing the real you," Jean informed him.
Remy frowned at her. "Aren't you so smart, Miss Know-It-All? Bet you know what's best for everyone."
Jean's eyes narrowed and her mouth turned into a pout. Remy supposed she was trying to give him her meanest look, but it was less than intimidating. Remy couldn't stop himself from laughing at her expression. Jean grew affronted and she sat back in the chair with her arms crossed. "Maybe I won't help you after all," she snapped.
Remy reached forward and snatched up her drawing pad. Jean lunged after it and Remy held it away from her, flipping through the pages. "What're you drawin'? Are you an artist?"
"Give that back," Jean said, coming around the desk towards him.
Remy turned his back towards her and looked at her sketchbook. It was mostly of figures standing on a blank field in different outfits. "Or maybe you're a designer. Dis one isn't half-bad...I wouldn't be caught dead wearin' that one."
Jean reached around him to grab the book from his hands. He refused to release it, grinning broadly as he tugged her closer. "You – little – brat!" she said, finally prying the book from his grip. "Like you would know anything about fashion. You should see what your older self wears."
Remy smiled. "Well, it's good t'know that at least there's some things that don't change. But if you're lookin' to give yourself a new look, de shorter de skirt, de better."
Jean hit Remy in the head with her sketchbook.
Remy ducked, covering his head protectively. "Hey, watch it. I got a head injury," he said.
"You're brain damaged, that's for sure," Jean informed him and marched away. She opened a drawer in the desk and tucked her sketchbook safely inside of it.
"Mebbe dat's why my powers don't work," Remy said, his smile dropping off his face. "Or why I see things that aren't there and you can't read my thoughts. I think somethin' happened inside my head."
Jean considered him for several moments, then her eyes flicked away. "I don't know," she said. "I only heard that you were sick. I think it was serious. But you seem fine now. I could still help you, if you want. If you think you can trust me."
"I dunno about that, but I don't know what else t'do. It's not like I got a lot of choices," Remy said.
Jean nodded with determination. "Sure. So how should we start?"
"We can't do it here," Remy told her. "There's too many people. I'm afraid somethin' will go wrong. I don't want to blow up your school."
"It's not my school," Jean said. "But, okay. We can go out on the grounds."
Remy moved to the door and tested the handle. He pulled it open slightly and peered out the crack. "You'll have t'sneak me outta here. I don't want to be taken back to de infirmary."
"I can use my powers to hide you," Jean said. "But there are other telepaths here. I don't know if I'm stronger than they are."
Remy's eyes searched the hall. "I got a better idea," he said and slipped into the hallway. He marched to the opposite side of the hall and reached for the red and white panel mounted on the wall. He lifted the plastic cover and drew the lever down. The fire alarm began to wail. Jean, who was standing in the doorway, grimaced at the sound and put her hands over her ears. Remy returned to the office and pulled the chair out into the hall.
He climbed upon the chair as Jean called: "What are you doing?"
Remy's fingers strained to reach the nearest sprinkler head, but he was several inches too short. He bit his lip as he concentrated on making a charge small enough not to do any damage but large enough to heat the air just below the sprinkler. Frustrated at his seeming lack of ability, he squinted hard at the sprinkler. With a sudden pop, the mechanism deployed, sending down a fountain of water. Remy hopped down from the chair to stand beside Jean, whose hair was now plastered down to her face.
"I wish you would have warned me you were going to do that," she said and created a telekinetic bubble to shield them both from the water.
"I thought you could read minds," he said, grinning at her. He pulled his jacket over his head with one hand, then grabbed Jean's hand with the other. "C'mon, show me how to get out!"
Jean lead the way, Remy trailing behind her. They joined a throng of students who were either shrieking or laughing as the water poured down on all their heads.
"Out, out...c'mon, everyone out," one of the teachers was saying. Her voice was bored and her expression was one of tired annoyance. She looked a lot like Jean except her hair was short. Remy wondered if she was a clone as well. "Let's go, get to the evacuation points. Use the buddy system."
They were lost in the crowd and herded down the halls and out onto the front lawn. Remy and Jean ducked their heads and dashed past the other students. "This way," Jean hissed and pulled him towards the woods. They started up a slight incline and then down the other side and out of sight. The other students milled about the lawn, their voices raised with excitement, suddenly finding themselves free on a sunny day. The pair dashed to the woods and found themselves in the cold wet shade beneath the trees. Once under cover of the forest, they slowed to a walk with Remy following closely after Jean.
"It's freezing," Remy said, his teeth chattering.
"Let's go find a clearing," Jean said. "Maybe the sun will dry us off some. There's one this way." She directed them onto a different path.
"You know where we're going?" Remy asked.
"Oh, yeah. I've been coming here...for as long as I can remember, really," Jean said. "My parents first brought me here as a girl. For counseling, after my friend died."
"I'm sorry about your friend," Remy told her. "Was she – did she get sick or something?"
Jean shook her head, not looking over at Remy. "No. Annie died suddenly. She was hit by a car."
"Oh," Remy said a little pathetically. Then he added: "It's different when someone dies all of a sudden like that...as opposed to gettin' sick. You don't get any time to prepare yourself, especially when they were just fine a second before – before it happened. Talkin' to you and all. Makes it hard to believe they're really gone."
"I knew she was gone," Jean said. "I was with her when she died. It's like I felt her die. But then – maybe I did. With my powers. I thought I would die, too." They were silent for several moments, walking through the hushed forest.
"I didn't see Etienne die," Remy admitted, breaking the silence. "I was too busy tryin' to save myself. But I saw his body later, when I had t'go identify him."
"Was Etienne your friend?" Jean asked, looking back at him.
Remy nodded. "My cousin. Mostly when he was alive I thought he was a whiner and a pest. Me an' my other cousin, we used to tease him real bad. But he was younger'n us, so we'd let him tag along and we'd look after him. But I guess Emil was better at watchin' out for him than me. I was supposed t'be takin' care of him...when he was killed."
Jean had his hand in hers and she held it a little tighter. She smiled at him sadly. Remy had to look away, unable to accept her sympathy. "When I saw him at de morgue, I thought: that could be me dead there just as easy. And I was glad it wasn't. So you're right about me bein' self-absorbed."
"You probably felt fortunate to be alive," Jean told him.
"Fortunate...right," Remy said without candor. They had reached a small park-like clearing along the lake. There was a large split log that served as a bench. They both sat on it and looked out at the water. Remy wrapped his arms around himself and shivered.
"Still cold?" Jean asked.
"Dis ain't a habitat suitable for human life," Remy complained.
"It's actually very nice out," Jean said and leaned back to brace herself on her hands, her legs stretched out in front of her. "Storm probably made it warm since all the students are outside."
"Maybe we should get out of our wet clothes and huddle together...y'know, to conserve body heat," Remy suggested.
Jean gave him a disapproving glance. "I don't think so," she told him.
"If your boyfriend finds out, we can tell him we did what we had to, to survive," Remy said with a smirk.
Jean shoved his shoulder and he laughed. "I don't have a boyfriend," Jean said. "Not anymore."
Remy rubbed his shoulder. "You break up? Wow, too bad for him."
"Yes, too bad," Jean said, sitting up straighter, her hands on her knees. "Too bad he turned out to be a – a wanted criminal!"
"I fail t'see de problem with that," Remy said.
"Pfft..," Jean said, glancing at him sidelong. "I'm sure you wouldn't. What about you? I bet you have lots of girlfriends."
"I don't have any," Remy replied. "I'm not good boyfriend material. But I am betrothed."
Jean turned to look at him. "Betrothed? Like to be married?"
"Do you know any other kind of betrothed?" Remy said in a desultory way. He shrugged out of his damp coat, thinking it was keeping him cold. The shirt beneath was still dry.
"I didn't think people did that anymore," Jean mused.
"My family's old fashioned," Remy said, looking put at the lake. "Real, real old fashioned."
"I all ready know who I'm supposed to marry, too," Jean said. "It's pretty much the same thing as being betrothed. Except I know what happens after we get married."
"You live happily ever after?" Remy asked with false brightness.
Jean gave him another one of her angry looks.
"Am I married, de future me? Do you know?" he asked her.
"I don't think so," Jean said, shaking her head. "You're not wearing a ring, anyway. What's your future wife's name?"
"Belle. BellaDonna."
Jean shook her head again. "I'm afraid I don't know her."
Remy felt a sensation of dread. "Oh, no. What if she's dead?" Remy murmured, mostly to himself. His heart accelerated in his chest. He asked: "Did she die? Was she killed?"
"Calm down," Jean said. "I don't know. Maybe you were separated. Maybe you got a divorce?"
"I think she'd kill me before she'd let that happen," Remy said and now he was shaking. "Somethin' bad must've happened to her. I have to go back! I can't let her die."
"Remy, there's nothing you can do to change the past," Jean said sadly. "Once you go back –."
Remy quickly stood. He must have stood too quickly, because he lurched forward a pace or two before he steadied himself. "Do whatever you got to do to send me back, Jean. I don't care, read my mind, take over my thoughts. Just put me back where I'm supposed t'be."
Jean slowly rose and stood beside him. Remy had to look up at her, she was a few inches taller than he was. "Okay, I'll try." She put her hands on his shoulders and closed her eyes. Her brow furrowed as she concentrated. "Can you be still for a second?" she asked. "You have to calm down."
"I'm tryin' to," Remy said, though his heart seemed to be beating arrhythmically. His shivering had turned into shaking.
"Close your eyes and concentrate," Jean instructed. "Just take a deep breath."
Remy sucked air into his lungs and closed his eyes. He just as quickly let out a breath. Though he was cold, he was sweating. "Jean, I think something's wrong."
"Relax, Remy, I'm trying to help you. Your mind is like a bar of soap. If soap was made out of electricity. Every time I go to grab it, it slips out of my grip and shocks me at the same time."
Remy reached out and grasped Jean's forearms. His head was pounding and his ear was ringing again. "Jean, stop!" he said and his eyes snapped open. He found himself staring past Jean's shoulder. There was a figure standing in the distance, a figure he recognized. Remy stood, frozenly staring at the figure.
"I'm almost...," Jean began. She was sweating now too. She let out a gasp. "Remy, I don't – I'm not strong enough."
"Jean...," Remy said, his eyes fixed to the figure as it began to walk slowly towards them.
Jean looked down at him, her brow furrowing. "Remy? Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Remy's mouth slowly opened, but he found himself unable to answer. Jean looked at him with concern, then turned her head to look over her shoulder. "Who is that?" she asked.
"You can – you can see him too?" Remy croaked, finally finding his voice.
Jean turned, letting Remy's hand slip into her own. "Of course I can, he's standing right there. Who is he?"
Remy swallowed dryly. "It's de pale man," he said. "It's Sinister."
"Sinister?" Jean repeated, and squinted at the man. "What is he doing here? What does he want?"
Remy tugged on Jean's hand. "We need t'go. We have to run!"
"But –!"
"Run!" Remy cried and dragged her after him. She followed, stumbling at first before finding her feet. Remy dashed into the forest, Jean crashing through the brush behind him.
"Wait, Remy! Where are we going?" Jean called.
"Away from him! Back to de school!"
"Then we're going the wrong way," Jean said and tugged him in a different direction.
Remy now followed Jean, their feet kicking through piles of fallen leaves. "Do you think we can outrun him?" Jean asked.
Remy didn't respond because he feared the answer would be: 'No.'
"Why are you so scared of him? Who is he?"
"He's a monster!" Remy said.
"Is he chasing you? What does he want from you?" Jean asked as they ducked beneath the branches of a pine.
"He wants – he –," Remy gasped and clutched at the stitch in his side. He was out of breath and he fell several paces behind. He came to a stumbling halt.
Jean slowed her pace and turned. Remy panted, bent over while holding his knees and gasping. Jean trotted back to him and put her hands on his shoulders. "Are you okay?" she asked. "You look pale."
Remy shook his head, unable to speak. Just then, there was a snap of a twig from behind Jean.
"Aiee!" Jean shrieked and spun. She threw out a hand and there came a sound of a body thudding against a nearby tree trunk. Dry twigs tumbled down from above.
"Ow! Geez, Jean!" Scott said and pulled himself to his feet. He held his chest where she had hit him with a telekinetic bolt.
"Oh, Scott! Sorry!" Jean said, looking embarrassed.
"What are you doing out here?" Scott asked and then looked at Remy. He said bossily: "You know, everyone at the school is looking for you. You'd better go back."
"I don't – I – ," Remy spluttered.
"And why did you attack me?" Scott asked Jean.
"I thought you were –!" Jean began, then found herself at a loss for words.
"You thought I was who?" Scott asked and straightened his glasses.
Jean frowned and pointed. "I thought you were him."
Scott turned to look over his shoulder. "Who the heck are you?"
"Oh, no...," Remy moaned.
Sinister emerged from the gloomy shadows of the trees. Sinister's eyes flicked from Scott and then to Jean, then at last came to rest upon Remy. He smiled with cruel intent. "Excellent work, Remy. You've managed to bring them both."
~ oOo ~
Next time: Jean v. Jean-Luc.