BENEATH THE SURFACE

Part Sixteen

** Just going to state for the record, clearly I'm not a psychiatrist, a psychologist, therapist or counsellor of any kind. I simply did the best I could, I didn't want to go harassing people for advice on the "psychiatrist" aspect of the discussion so forgive me if the discussion seems vague or wrong, I can only do my best. :) **

"Mr. LeBeau."

Remy stared towards the fishtank, there was something strangely soothing about the way the fish were slowly swaying back and forth across the length of it, their beautiful fan-like tales flitting like frantic little butterfly wings.

When the professor had announced he'd made the appointment for Remy to go to a psychiatrist, Remy had never imagined the psychiatrist was going to be a woman. Remy had sat there in the waiting room somehow expecting some kind of old gentleman with a beard and a balding head; he had an image of someone not too unlike Sigmund Freud locked in his imagination.

Was that deliberate? He pick a woman 'cause he thought I wouldn' be able t' handle a man shrink pokin' around in my head?

Remy hated admitting ever to himself that he was nervous or anxious about anything, but in the waiting room he had been. He wasn't sure what to expect from all this, what kind of stupid questions were going to be asked. Logan had been beside him, waiting; Professor's orders, chaperone on command, no negotiations. Remy supposed it was his own fault for lying about being drunk to Rogue and Logan; if he'd lie about that then he'd lie about attending the appointment for all the Professor knew. They had to be sure.

It was because of Logan's being there that Remy held himself still in the seat in the waiting room, making sure that his foot didn't have so much as the chance to nervously twitch. He pretended to be more interested in playing with his phone than looking curiously around the rather modern and slightly clinical waiting room. It was hard to pretend he was glued to Angry Birds, but somehow he'd managed to do so without Logan seeming to pick up any of the anxiety. At least he was sure he'd gotten away with at least.

And then, when he'd been told 'Dr. Forbes will see you now', he had not expected to walk into a huge modern and minimalist psychiatrists office to find his shrink was a woman.

She was older, blonde, reminding him of a slightly haggard Grace Kelly, only less delicate and slightly more sturdy with her joggers legs, slightly thick upper arms stretching her sleeves and her calloused hands. Her woven beige suit was immaculate, her hair was expertly styled and her makeup was a little too dark for her age.

"You seem rather distracted," said Dr. Forbes.

"Sorry," Remy said, he eyed the tank, he'd been standing there since the introductions, tuned out when Dr. Forbes had started talking about what the appointment was for, "did y' know there's a dead fish in y' tank?"

"It's not a dead fish," said Dr. Forbes, she stood up and walked over to massive six foot long fish tank where Remy was standing. "It's a plastic one."

Remy tilted his head and eyed the thing, it looked rather convincing, especially the way the thing floated on it's side at the top of the water. "Why y' keep a plastic fish?"

Dr. Forbes folded her arms casually, her expression rather focused as she watched the fish, "It's...going to sound rather strange."

"My life is one big mess o' strange, I'm used t' it," Remy assured.

"One of the fish died months ago...I didn't notice until I was in a session and couldn't remove it until three sessions later, I was just far too busy. For some reason, when I removed the fish, the others began to behave rather oddly..."

"Oddly?" Remy scoffed, "what kind of odd behaviour a fish gon' have?"

"Not eating, hiding in that little cave in there..." Dr. Forbes explained, "perhaps it might seem foolish, but I did wonder if perhaps the fish missed the company of the one whom had perished...sensed the lack of it's presence. I replaced it with this plastic replica...and ever since the fish have been fine again."

Remy wasn't particularly sure that sounded plausible, he turned to look at her strangely.

"Grief...it affects many differently. But then, yI'm sure you understand it yourself," she asked, she headed back to her chair.

"I'll tell y' what I tol' Professor Xavier," Remy watched her, "I ain' grievin'."

"Please, sit down," Dr. Forbes said gently.

Remy sat down slowly on the leather couch opposite Dr. Forbe's matching arm chair. He glanced down to the books of art on her coffee table, blocks of colour arranged in shapes, he wasn't sure how this was classed as art, but he knew it always sold for quite a pretty penny. He'd stolen a few like it when he was fifteen and learning his trade.

"Tell me, Mr. LeBeau...what is your earliest memory."

"My earliest memory..." he repeated, frowning a little.

"Of your childhood."

"Why we got t' go there?" he asked, his neck tensing.

"For this to work, I need to have an understanding of who you are, how you grew up..." she explained softly. "Our first session-"

"Our first session?" he blinked, "I was on the understandin' this was a one off..."

"No..." she shook her head, "Professor Xavier booked you for treatment indefinitely..."

"Indefinitely?" he asked, his neck growing even more tense, "for good?"

"No..." she shook her head again, "Just until such times as we feel therapy might be helping your frame of mind."

"My frame of mind is fine," he replied.

"If it were, would you have agreed to come?"

"I was rail-roaded int' comin' here. Ultimatum."

I'm here 'cause I'm afraid I'm goin' crazy, he thought reluctantly, he rubbed the back of his neck as he stared down at the books, he reached down and flicked the nearest book open, hoping he wasn't about to be scolded for touching what he hadn't been given permission to touch. He took a moment, trying to think of what his earliest memory might be, he wasn't sure he really knew which the earliest one was.

"Ultimatum or not...it does help to talk. Anything you tell me is confidential."

"So anythin' I say doesn' go back t' Professor Xavier?"

"Not at all."

Remy stared down a brightly coloured print of an abstract painting; shapes and colours overlapping and cutting into each other, none of it made sense, it was ugly and jagged, reminding him oddly of Jean-Luc's face. "I don' wan' talk about my childhood...or my first memories...or my life."

"That's going to make it very difficult," Dr. Forbes admitted.

"I suppose."

"If you don't wish to talk about your grief...or your life...then...what is it you would like to talk about?" Dr. Forbes asked carefully.

Remy raised his eyes, "I'm here t' ask anythin', right? T' talk about anythin' that I wan' talk about?"

"Of course?"

"What if it's not in y' usual...y' know...field of...expertise?"

"Now I'm intrigued..." she confessed.

He glanced over to the fish tank, the reflection of Jean-Luc was there, he could see it, slightly murky and distorted. His palms grew sweaty and his skin felt cold at the sight of him. "What woul' y' say if a patient came t' y' and said they think they're bein' haunted."

"Haunted by what, exactly, Mr. LeBeau? By guilt? By grief?"

"By a ghost," he said emphatically.

She crossed one leg over the other, leaning into the side of her chair, her eyes were locked to his. He could see he had her full attention. "A ghost..." she repeated, looking rather thoughtful. She was waiting for him to explain more.

"When I look in a mirror, out a window...in a dark corner...in a crowded street out of the corner of my eye...standin' blatant three feet in front of me...when I wake up in the middle of the night...from nightmares 'bout him...there he is...right in front of my face..." he looked at the doctor, waiting for some kind of judgement. He could see her focus, her thought processes. "Y' think I'm crazy."

"How much sleep are you getting?"

"Hardly any," he commented, "I wake up early wit' bad dreams about him..."

"Him?"

"The ghost," Remy replied, deciding to be vague as he could. He did not want to have to explain about Jean-Luc.

"I see..."

"So...y' think I'm crazy?"

"No..."

"Y' think I got somethin' wrong with my head...that I got some kind of...mental disorder or something."

"I can't make a diagnosis like that in a twenty-minute span, Mr. LeBeau," she smiled a little, "my initial thoughts didn't go in that direction. Let me ask you...how do you feel emotionally?"

"Fine," he said.

"You aren't sad at all?"she asked. "Professor Xavier gave me a little background...he said your father had died recently."

"Adoptive father, and we weren't close," Remy said, and he somehow despite his anxiety made himself sound so convincingly casual about it that he was certain she believed him. "And I'm not sad..."

"If you were, would you tell me?"

"What I got t' be sad about?" he shrugged, "I'm strong, I'm healthy, I'm married t' a real nice girl...I got a real nice home...and f' the most part, the people I'm with seem t' be okay...and mos' of them actually seem t' care far as I can tell..." he shrugged. "Why shoul' I be sad?"

"Sadness can't always be defined by reasons for being sad."

"I'm not depressed, if that's what y' askin'," he stated.

"How do you define depression, Mr. LeBeau? What is depression in your eyes?"

Remy stared at the floor for a moment, "t' me...depression is..." he stopped himself. "It's..."

"Yes?"

He grunted, "It...always seemed like..." he frowned, lost for a moment, "what was wrong wit' Jean-Luc."

"Jean-Luc?"

"My father...my...adoptive...father," he said, correcting himself awkwardly, "he was a different man when he firs' took me in. Not that he was ever a nice man, nor exceptionally charmin'. He was...different after his wife die..."

"He loved her deeply..." supposed Dr. Forbes.

"He had a funny way of showin' it sometimes. There were some beatin's...some...really nasty ones..." he frowned, "she were a frail thing...I barely remember much 'bout her except her long brown hair and the way she use t' pull it over her cheek t' hide the bruises..."

"How did she die?"

"Accident..." Remy swallowed, looking away. Suddenly Remy couldn't exactly remember how he'd started talking about this. How had this happened?

"That's rather vague..."

"I don' wan' talk about this," he shook his head.

"Anything you say here is confidential, Mr. LeBeau, and it could be helpful."

"I don' see how."

"How did your mother die...?"

Remy hurt every time some one ever referred to Vivienne LeBeau as his mother. And it was always the same...he might fight with them on whether he could have ever classed Jean-Luc as a father but he would never argue the point when it came to Vivienne.

"I...was a kid...Jean-Luc, he startin' t' teach me the family business...the way he had Henri...his real son. Vivienne...she thought it was unfair...yellin' at him..." he explained, deciding to avoid talking about the guild for fear of what the woman might learn . "She didn' want me bein' in on that, said I was too young...said she was gon' draw the line at me bein' taught 'cause I had no one else t' draw the line for me..." his hands trembled.

"What happened?"

"They started arguin'...vicious things was said...they got int' it...I tried t' stop them..." he swallowed.

"How did she die?"

"We was all at the top of the stairs in the house...Jean-Luc grab her by the neck...he shakin' her...I can remember the soun' of her chokin'..." he swallowed hard, "fuck..." he shook his head, "I said I wasn' gon' talk about this..." he wrung his hands anxiously.

"You're doing fine...please...tell me..."

"I..." Remy thought back to that day. Sometimes it replayed over and over in his head like a video on perpetual repeat. "I tried t' stop him, I got 'tween them...I pushed him...she was hangin' so close t' the stairs and she tipped...it...it's stupid when I say it but...it felt like it was slow motion...and I grabbed t' try and pull her back but she was so much heavier...I was small...small f' my age...we both went t' gether..."

"And she died?"

"She caught me mid fall...and she twisted me t' her so that she took the brunt of it and I didn' even get hurt..." he winced, "I swear I heard her neck snap...like a dry twig...the sound jumps through me every time I think about it, feel it shakin' through my spine, through every bone I got."

"You feel guilty about her death?"

"If they wasn't fighin' about me..." he sighed. "It wouldn't have happened."

"You shouldn't feel guilty for existing at that moment, Mr. LeBeau."

"What about f' gettin' tween them? F' pushin him? If I hadn't...he'd have never let her go..."

"There's no way to be sure that the outcome would be different whether you had been involved directly or not," Dr. Forbes suggested. "How was your relationship with him after her death?"

"He hated me," he sighed, "I can't say he ever loved me, not even before...not when he pick me up from the street. He saw potential in me, but never saw me like his own. But he was bitter t' wards me. He still taught me the family business, even if it was Vivienne's dyin' wish that he not...but every moment spent wit' me I coul' tell he grudged it...he'd show up drunk t' trainin'...make me do things a hundred times, makin' me feel inadequate even if I got it right..." he sighed.

"Mr. LeBeau," Dr. Forbes tilted her head curiously, "is this ghost you've been seeing your father?"

Remy raised his eyes worriedly to her, for a moment wondering if she were telepathic. "What if it were?"

"Then perhaps it is your guilt that you are being haunted by...not a real ghost."

Remy wasn't sure he believed that, it felt too real...and what about the physical feats? Surely that wasn't just a manifestation of guilt...

"I think there is much more to the story, Mr. LeBeau, much more beneath the surface that we have not even so much as scratched here. I think you and I should see each other on a weekly basis."

How am I supposed t' explain that t' Rogue? He wondered. He supposed he could always just tell her the truth, that he was attending therapy. No...she'd be too enthusiastic about it...and she'd ask about the things we talked about.

"I...I don' know if I'm gon' be able t' do that," Remy sighed. "My life is complicated...I got school and other things...findin' a set time ain' gon' work f' me."

"Please consider making time, Mr. LeBeau," Dr. Forbes requested, "there is a lot therapy could do for you if you would only give it a chance. One session is not going to help."

"I'll think about it," Remy sighed, "But I ain' makin' any promises."

Rogue gazed up at the door of the rec room as Remy waltzed in some time after three pm. She'd looked for him earlier – some of the others had wanted to play basket ball and they'd been trying to get a small team together, but she hadn't been able to find him anywhere in the building. For that matter, Logan hadn't been anywhere to be found either.

"Where you been?" she asked, she pushed herself up from where she'd been lying across the couch with her book, "we were tryin' to get together a basketball team earlier and we couldn't find you..."

Remy stood at the doorway, he was leaning there looking slightly distracted, "Had t' go t' the hospital f' a scan."

"A scan?" Rogue binked, "Are you-?" she felt startled, what if something was wrong with him from the accident?

"It was jus' t' check that I didn' have any cracks in my skull or anythin' from the car crash," Remy replied. He looked around the room, he seemed to be somewhat surprised there was no one else there. "My head is fine far as they coul' tell," he admitted, "and I'm sure y' be pleasantly surprised t' know they actually found a brain in my head, so it's all good. So...where is everyone?"

"Still outside playin' basketball," she put her book aside, "Tabitha was lookin' for you, by the way."

"Oh?"

"Ah guess for the game. Maybe she wanted you to pass your balls between her legs or somethin', Ah don't know," she muttered.

Remy raised an eyebrow at her, "maybe if she knew I was slam dunkin' someone else..." he supposed.

"Shut up," Rogue muttered, looking away, "why didn't you tell me you had an appointment to go to the hospital?"

"I didn' even know. Professor said I had t' have it 'fore he would clear me t' go back int' trainin'."

"Oh..."

"'Sides...if I'd told y', y' would have worried..."

Rogue studied him for a moment, she wondered if he were telling the truth about the hospital. The Professor had called for him that morning, she wondered if that was what it had been about, and not high school as he'd initially had her believe.

For a few moments they sat in silence, their hands barely an inch apart on the seat between them on the couch. Remy pushed his hand slightly closer to hers, but she slid hers out of the way of his, she was afraid someone may walk in and catch them holding hands.

Remy seemed slightly distracted for a moment, and vaguely frustrated. He sighed, a little restless, he shifted in his seat.

"How 'bout we go out t' night?" he asked casually.

"Tonight?" Rogue turned to look at him.

"I ain' really been out anywhere further than a store or two since we got back...I coul' use a night out..."

"No..." Rogue shook her head, she wanted to elaborate that it was probably too soon for that but before she even had the chance to speak there was an interruption.

"I'll go out with you..."

Rogue and Remy both turned to the door, seeing Tabitha waltzing in, her hair in pigtails, a slight skip in her step. Remy faltered a little, his expression sightly lost. He tried to speak but couldn't even seem to find a response to it.

"We could go to see that new comedy with Seth Rogen," she grinned, "And then maybe get pizza or somethin'."

Rogue watched Remy, curious to see how he was going to get a way out of this one. You dare go out with her, Remy LeBeau, she thought darkly at him, waiting for his response.

"Thing is," Remy cleared his throat, "I can't drive 'cause of the car accident. And well...you got y' license suspended...so...that's not really gon' work, is it?" he smirked.

"We could get a cab."

"Yeah, 'cause he just has an endless stream of money...maybe you'd like him to hire a limo for you," Rogue commented coldly.

Tabitha ignored the comment, "come on, you said it yourself, you need a night out."

"Yeah...I did say that," Remy supposed, he looked at Rogue pointedly.

"Should a married man really be out on the town with another girl?" Rogue asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"It's not like his wife is here, or anything," Tabitha shrugged, "besides...a little fun be good for him. Anyway, you're supposed to be his friend, and you won't even make time for him..."

"Ah make time for him," Rogue muttered, she looked to Remy, wondering if he was even going to fight in her corner. "Ah make time for you, don't Ah?"

"Well..." he feigned a sigh, she felt like punching him right then.

"Ah made time for you earlier," Rogue said pointedly.

"Not much," he commented. "It'd be nice if y' made jus' a little more effort f' me...since y' are suppose t' be my friend and all."

Rogue tried not to be too annoyed by this comment.

"I'll always make time for you," Tabitha smiled at Remy.

She's winnin', Rogue thought frustratedly. "Fine...then...lets go out tonight..."

"Awesome," Remy grinned, "it'll be fun."

"We'll all go," Tabitha said brightly.

Rogue felt her heart sinking a little, she wanted to blurt out that the girl was not invited but it was too late. She felt Remy look at her, could sense him wondering if she was going to say it was a date, she could almost sense his frustration that she wouldn't volunteer the information.

"Let me go check the times of that movie online," Tabitha said; she headed off quite happily, a skip in her step.

When the girl had gone, Rogue threw Remy a dangerous look.

"What?"

"What?" she repeated. "You would have totally gone with her-"

"What was I supposed t' say?" he laughed, "she heard me say I wanted t' go out...y' turn me down."

"But she'd see it as a date if you went to a movie with her alone, Remy!" Rogue stood up, her hands were shaking a little with anxiety at the thought of Tabitha managing to somehow effortlessly steal her husband right from under her.

"I told you. If she knew there was somethin' goin' on wit' me and you, she'd give up."

"Yeah? She doesn't seem too bothered about you bein' married though," Rogue folded her arms stubbornly.

"And whose fault is that?" he asked. "Y' could have jus' told her straight, but y' had t' complicate stuff...this y' own doin', not mine."

"Tell her straight you don't have any interest in her," Rogue suggested.

"I ain' gon' hurt her feelin's," Remy replied. For a moment, he seemed slightly uneasy about the idea of doing so.

"You usually don't care about other people's feelin's," Rogue pointed out.

"This is different," Remy stood slowly.

"Why?"

"It just is."

"You better do somethin'. Before she makes a move on you...and she will."

"Y' sound so sure."

"Everyone knows about Tabitha, Remy. She always gets the guy she wants eventually...every guy she's ever liked...she's had..." Rogue stood up, "her cell number is on the stalls in the boys bathroom at school for a reason. Kurt saw it there, plain as day! It said to call her for a good time..."

Remy frowned at her.

"And...there's all sorts of limmericks and jokes about her, you know...about the dirty things she'll do and-"

He swiftly interrupted, he looked suddenly quite angry, "Enough!"

She blinked at him.

"Y' know...y' don' know what the fuck y' talkin' about..." he paced a little, his breathing changed, Rogue saw it become slightly unsteady.

"Don't Ah? Ah know her better than you do..."

"Maybe y' do!" he snapped, "But it don' give y' the right t' go spewin' shit about her viciously like that. She's supposed t' be y' friend!" he paced more, his body language was all over the place. It was unlike him to lose his cool like that.

Rogue stood quietly staring at him, surprised by his sudden defense of the girl. She took a moment to compose herself. "Why...why are you defending her?"

"Why?!" he demanded, he gave an absurd laugh, "why? Y'...y' got...y' got no idea what..." he shook his head and he lowered his voice, his tone was very careful, "Y' got no idea what it's like..."

"Like what's like?" Rogue asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Bein' the brunt of jokes, havin' a reputation that precedes y'..." he snorted. "Y' standin' there condemnin' someone f' stuff y' ain' even sure they did."

"Ah'm sure," Rogue replied.

"Why? 'Causey' heard someone say so? I could take a permanent marker, first day of school and write y' number on the inside of a toilet stall, Rogue, I coul' write all sorts of the things y' ain' guilty of. I coul' go in there and write that I fucked Jean up the ass...that I let Ororo eat peanut butter off my fuckin' ballsack, it wouldn't make it true!" he spat.

Rogue hugged herself insecurely, she wasn't sure why he was suddenly yelling.

"I'm sick of y' accusations, and y' pickin' and-"

"Yeah?" she asked suddenly, "well now you know how it feels!"

"How it feels?" he mouthed.

"When you accuse me of things I didn't do...about-"

"The movie is at six forty five," came the bright voice of Tabitha as she waltzed in, she stopped, sensing that she'd interrupted an argument, "Uhm...am...I...interrupting something?"

Rogue immediately clamped her mouth shut, her body was shaking a little with anger, she could see Remy's was too. He let his hands rest against the couch and he leaned over it a little, he somehow miraculously managed to make it seem so casual, his voice changed to perfectly calm when he spoke.

"Just stupid shit..." he replied.

"What did he accuse you of?" Tabitha asked, a faint nervous smile playing about her lips, she was standing holding her cellphone.

"He..." Rogue faltered, she couldn't think straight right then.

"Bitch took my black credit card," Remy retorted, "thought it would be funny."

Rogue lowered her eyes to the floor, at least he had the sense to lie, she thought. She didn't like being referred to as bitch though, not even for the lie. "Ah don't care about your damn money," she muttered about to walk away, "have fun at the fucking movie," she retorted to him. Ah hope you both choke on your fuckin' popcorn.

Remy swiftly moved from behind the couch and he caught her by the arm, "But y' comin' wit' us."

Rogue noted how Tabitha suddenly looked so vaguely disappointed.

"Ah am?" Rogue turned to look at him angrily.

"It's like y' said, I'm married," Remy said, "goin' t' a movie wit' a girl on my own, that wouldn' be wise. What if my wife knew?" he pointed out, she felt him glare intensely into her eyes, "wouldn' be a smart move."

"Ah guess not," Rogue looked away, feeling the sting of the argument still upon her.

"So we'll all go...y' can even invite the others," he said, he gave a charming smile. "I'll pay f' everyone...popcorn, soda, you name it. I'll even pay f' dinner f' everyone too."

Out of the corner of her eye, Rogue saw Tabitha's expression shift, she seemed a little frustrated. Nonetheless, Tabitha announced, "that'd be awesome."

"Let me jus' go see if anyone else wan' t' go," Remy patted Rogue's shoulder, "I'll meet y' at six at the van...you can drive..."

Rogue took a deep breath and tried to sigh out her anger carefully, she watched as Remy wandered off, leaving her in the room alone with Tabitha.

"That's really nice of him to offer to pay for everyone and to buy us all dinner," Tabitha admitted, she slumped down onto the couch and picked up one of the fashion magazines Amara had a habit of leaving on the coffee table.

"Yeah."

"He's such a nice guy," Tabitha admitted.

"Yeah, he is," Rogue managed through gritted teeth.

Tabitha flicked through the magazine casually, "ooh, those boots are so hot," she commented on the page, Rogue spied a pair of knee high leather boots.

"Yeah," Rogue agreed, holding her tongue from snapping. Maybe if you're lucky enough he'll buy them for you.

End of Part Sixteen

Who else loves it when Rogue is bitchy? LOL. I don't think I've ever written her be bitchy in petty ways before, it's kind of fun in a way (don't know if it's really out of character or not, oh well, lol).

Thanks to all for their amazing reviews on the last chapter. I agree that Rogue lost an opportunity to be honest with him during the "pillow talk" segment of the last chapter, the pair of them seem to both have terrible timing when it comes to the things they want to talk about. I was surprised that Rogue's using sex to distract him from Tabitha was actually cheered on rather than frowned upon, lol. I thought I was going to be criticised majorly for her pulling that stunt. I was also surprised that there've been no complaints that their "sexual" relationship isn't all imaginative and fifty shades of grey fantastic with deep lingering romance and earth shattering orgasms, lol. In the comics they might have had an "immediate" connection that way, but I just don't see it happening that way with someone with Rogue's powers. Things can't always be perfect (like the closet, lmao). Sometimes these relationships are awkward even for those deeply in love, and it felt more realistic to not have it tied up so neatly that suddenly they were going to be incredible together sexually (especially as they're skipping certain steps in the process). Hopefully it won't get me too hated anyway!

Anyway, I'm off to do a wee bit more writing before I go to sleep, I hope you all have a fantastic weekend, thanks for all the reviews and the reading of my stories you guys do, you're awesome.