BENEATH THE SURFACE

Part Forty-Five

"Y' wan' put me away..."

Remy's heart was racing; they couldn't be serious, could they? Both Dr. Forbes and Professor Xavier were sitting opposite him in the brig cell, Dr. Forbes on a metal chair that had made a horrible scraping sound against the steel tiles as she'd pulled it beneath her to take her seat.

They hadn't said it. Not in those terms. He hadn't heard exactly how they'd said it...he'd been to busy running it over and over in his head what had happened.

The look on Rogue's face was stuck in his mind, the perfect 'o' her mouth had made whilst that shard was deep in her.

"You're not being put away, Remy," Professor Xavier said gently, "we just feel that after all that's happened that you clearly need more psychiatric help than we previously imagined, and we're not equipped to provide it at the institute."

"Y' tryin' t' put me in an institution," Remy panicked, he swallowed hard, he felt backed into a corner; he practically was, sitting in the far corner of the bunk bolted to the wall, the plastic mattress flimsy beneath him, he could feel the hard steel beneath him.

"There's no institution, Remy," Dr. Forbes spoke up.

"It's a prison," Remy almost choked.

"Haven Springs Psychiatric Recovery Centre is a safe environment where you will find the support you need to recover..."

"A mental hospital?" he stammered.

"A psychiatric recovery centre...that specialises in mutant care," Professor Xavier answered gently, "Where you'll receive the care you need."

"Behind locked doors," Remy stared between them both, "Y' lockin' me away...in a padded cell...the place where people who talk t' themselves go...where they sit an' bang their heads agains' the wall an' pull their own hair out..."

Hadn't he done those things? It hadn't occurred to him...but now there was so much clarity. All the things that had been happening to him. It had been self-inflicted. The hair on the back of his head he'd been convinced Jean-Luc had ripped from his scalp...the cut on his arm, the way he'd been slammed into the wall in the sub-basement.

It had all been him.

Oh god, I'm jus' like those people...

Professor Xavier straightened up a little in his wheelchair, "Haven Springs is a wonderful hospital, Remy. There are no wards and cells, you'll have a comfortable bedroom, and access to grounds with an indoor swimming pool, a gymnasium, and a recreation room, and you'll be given full access to twenty-four hour care."

Remy dropped his eyes; he didn't believe them. In his mind he saw stony little cells with nothing but a bed bolted to floor, he saw straight-jackets and barred windows, he saw group sessions with dangerous and highly disturbed individuals and severe psychiatrists with targets, not patients. All he'd be is just a number, just a face that the doctors and staff there would see as nothing but a living dollar sign.

"Remy..." the Professor said softly, "You are not a well man..."

"I'm fine," Remy swallowed back the lump in his throat.

"Physically, perhaps..." Dr. Forbes agreed, "But mentally, right now, you are far from well..."

"Y' said I was gon' be fine!" he accused Dr. Forbes angrily.

"You will be," Dr. Forbes assured, "I'll driving down twice a week to continue sessions with you, while you'll also be talking with two excellent specialists, one who specialises in childhood abuse and rape cases such as yours."

Remy looked up to the ceiling, trying to blink away the threat of tears. It was one thing to tell her about it, it was quite another for her to say it in front of the Professor. Wasn't there supposed to be some kind of confidentiality between doctor and patient? Or did she assume the Professor knew. Or did he already know how severe his childhood had really been. He tried to speak but the words wouldn't come, his mouth was moving but no sound seemed to be coming.

"The doctors there are some of the best in the country. And you'll be extremely comfortable and safe..."

Safe...was that what they called it? Locked away like a criminal...

Like the criminal I always was, Remy supposed. Like the criminal he made me be.

"I didn' mean t' hurt her," Remy almost choked on the lump in his throat. "I swear I didn' mean t' hurt her..."

"We know, Remy," Professor Xavier said gently.

"I love her...I wouldn'!" Remy rambled; he stared down at his fingers and saw there was still blood beneath his bitten fingernails. Oh god, it was her blood! He trembled.

"No one is accusing you of any deliberate acts, Remy. We know you weren't in your right mind. If anything, we're responsible for not having insisted on this sooner," the Professor sighed, "I trusted my judgement that I'd be able to help you and that was a mistake, I'm sorry I failed you..."

Had the Professor failed him? Remy wanted to get up, to pace, but he felt so cornered, as if he tried to move someone was going to push him back down. But whom? Was the Professor capable? Was Dr. Forbes? "Y' said you woul' help me..." he managed to the Professor.

"I am trying to help you," Professor Xavier kept his voice so steady and soft, "I also have an obligation to protect my students and past behaviours have convinced me that if I don't take these measures now, someone else will get hurt."

"Y' don' got t' send me away t' punish me..."

"You are not being punished, we're trying to help you, Remy."

"Y' gon' lock me away!" Remy stammered nervously, "like a caged rat in a fuckin' maze...call it a recovery centre all y' want we both know it's jus' a fancy maze that y' never want me t' come out o'. Y' put me in there, I'll never come back out."

"Remy, please, you're being hysterical," Professor Xavier warned.

"Hysterical!? Y' ain' tellin' me how my wife is...y' won' let me see her..."

"Right now, I'm sorry but I can't allow that."

"Y' won' let me see her! It's my right! She's my wife! Y' won' even let me see her and y' gon' put me away in a cell and I'll never see her again and y' expect me t' be anythin' but hysterical!"

"No one is putting you in a cell!" the Professor said loudly, "But you cannot remain here in this condition. I promised I would help you Remy, but I cannot allow you to stay when you are not in full control of your own thoughts and actions. I already have taken more risks with your care than I should have; you have violent outbursts and a tendency to fall into fugue states. To let you stay here after everything would be irresponsible and negligent."

Remy could barely breathe was so panicked and lost.

"I've made some dire mistakes with your care. Perhaps it was foolish of me to believe I was doing all I could. I was wrong to assume we were capable enough to supervise you, I'm sorry I've failed you, Remy, but I'll do all I can to rectify that, and that starts now."

"By havin' me locked up."

"It's for your own good," Professor Xavier responded.

Remy swallowed hard, "f' my own good?!" he choked, "that was what he used t' say too! Punch me up the side o' the head f' gettin' things wrong...do it so hard I see stars, it was f' my own good. Pin me down in my bed so hard I couldn' breathe t' punish me f' tryin' t' run away, rammin' that thing up me 'til I bled...teach me a lesson f' disobedience...f' my own good! Whenever I get fucked over it's aways f' my own good! Next y' gon' tell me that it's gon' make me stronger...tougher! Jus' like he did!"

The Professor's wheelchair rolled backwards on it's own, hitting the steel wall behind it. Simultaneously the chair Dr. Forbes was sitting upon did the same, the metal legs made an all might screech against the floor, sparks dragging, one of her stilettos actually came off, throwing itself against the wall, almost skewering her in the face as she somehow managed to dodge it.

For one moment, Remy thought perhaps Jean-Luc had returned, that he was causing this to happen.

But there was no Jean-Luc. He backed himself into the corner as much as he could, almost practically standing on the bunk, gasping in horror. What was happening? What had moved them if Jean-Luc hadn't?!

"Calm yourself," Professor Xavier said softly, Remy saw the eerie calm in his face, heard it in his voice.

"Telekinesis," whispered Dr. Forbes, in awe, she pulled herself up, staring down at the chair that had seemed to have moved by itself. "I always suspected..."

"Remy, you must calm yourself, your heightened emotional state is causing your powers to activate themselves, you must hold yourself together."

"Hol' myself t' gether...?" Remy managed, trembling, "I didn'...I didn' do this..."

The chair Dr. Forbes had been sitting flipped, almost hitting her, she dodged it, falling sideways and landing elbow first into the bed. The wheelchair tipped over, Professor Xavier falling sideways, letting out a grunt.

"Remy, control yourself!"

A pen was swirling around in the air, Remy wasn't sure where it had come from unless it had been in someone's pocket. A car key, the chair, the wheelchair was up in the air, it slammed against the wall and made a loud clatter against the steel, the right wheel flying straight off and bounced against the corner wall, heading straight towards Remy.

It stopped in mid-air just short of his face, Remy gazed at it, lips quivering. The wheel flew backwards, slamming into the wall, narrowly missing the Professor's head as he tried to lean up.

"Sedate him!" the Professor gasped.

He hadn't seen the hypodermic needle, where Dr. Forbes had taken it from, he wasn't sure, but he felt the sharp prick of it against his hip. Remy looked down, saw it there, sticking into him, her hand there pushing the plunger.

It didn't take long for the warm rush and the heaviness to overwhelm him. His last thought before succumbing was that finally, he felt nothing.

Rogue felt extremely groggy and confused when she came to; she heard the soft steady beeping of a heart monitor and the soft hum of electricity and machines around her. She opened her eyes weakly and let the dim room come into focus; it wasn't a room she was familiar with.

Ah'm in the sub-basement, she realised. There were no windows, and the metal archway with the control panel next to it told her at once. She'd seen the only once during a tour; it was used for those specific emergencies which the sickbay up on the mansion floor was not appropriate for, such as intensive care.

Her wound still hurt badly; Logan might have tried to heal her with his powers by letting her absorb him but she felt none-the-better for it. She pushed the blanket of the bed down and pulled weakly upon the crinkled and almost papery-feeling gown they had put upon her.

Ah guess that means they saw me naked, she supposed; she might have felt more embarrassed if pain wasn't clouding everything else. She moved the gown and saw the large dressing, there was a stain of reddish-brown seeping through it...her blood.

Rogue peeled back the dressing of her wound and gazed at it; it had been stitched up expertly but it still looked red and angry and extremely raw even though it had healed a little. She swallowed hard, it looked slightly infected. A mix of emotions rushed through her, feelings of shame and anger and fear. There was a strange confliction of emotion welling inside...she wanted to be angry with Remy, she wanted to be afraid of him...and yet all she felt was pity and worry and love. Logic told her to feel things she couldn't feel.

She sat there with a deep gash in her gut, sewn up and hurting badly, and the only thing she could worry about was if Remy was all right.

He could have killed me, she realised. How could it be that she couldn't be furious with him? That she couldn't be terrified of him right then? She was terrified of that look on his face, the look that had said he hadn't been himself...the dead look in his eyes when he'd fought with her...

He didn't do this...it wasn't his fault, she tried to tell herself, wondering if she was making excuses for his behaviour as she supposed she'd always done. Since the moment she'd left with him after his marriage proposal it seemed she'd done nothing but made excuses for him. But someone had to, didn't they? Didn't he deserve to have excuses made for him? All his life he'd been used, hurt and taken advantage of in some regards. Wasn't it time that someone protected him...even from himself?

Gently, she prodded the flesh near the wound, the pain made her wince. She thought of the baby that had been there...it wasn't there any more. She felt no different and yet at the same time somehow felt the absence of it. She wondered if that were more psychological absence than physical. Echoes of something that was never to be, echoes of something that should have never been to begin with.

"Don't touch that."

She hadn't heard Hank entering the room; the sliding door had been left open and even his footsteps hadn't been heard.

"Sorry..." Rogue took a breath, she heard the pain in her own voice, the dull exhaustion, "it hurts."

"I'm sorry...I'll give you something for it shortly, but first I need to clean and redress the wound."

"It's not healing much..." Rogue admitted.

Hank slipped on a pair of latex gloves, "you were very weak, you absorbed all of Logan you were capable of absorbing at the time."

"Ah've never been so weak before..." Rogue pointed out.

Hank's eyes wouldn't meet hers as he put on the left glove.

"Hank?" she asked, sensing something was wrong.

"I'd rather not say," he admitted softly.

"Please...if there's somethin' Ah should know..." she spoke up.

"I suspect perhaps the pregnancy may have had an effect on your powers; it's very difficult to determine. I'm unfamiliar with...this sort of situation," Hank put quietly. "Perhaps it could be your body's defence mechanism to prepare you for the eventual birth...to prevent you from absorbing the child. It's...it's hard to say..."

"Oh," she replied. She now understood why he hadn't wanted to say. Even she couldn't help herself from suddenly wondering how likely it may have been that childbirth would have been a reality she could have endured, that the baby could have endured. Had her powers been weakened since the conception? Growing weaker by the day? How human might she have been by childbirth? Would she have ever reverted back?

Best not to think about it, she tried to tell herself, trying not to cry.

"I'm sorry," Hank moved nearer and began gently peeling off the dressing entirely.

"For?" she asked.

"We did all we could for you but a pregnancy can't survive that kind of trauma..." Hank's expression darkened, he seemed most upset.

"It wasn't your fault..." she sighed.

"It shouldn't have come to this..." Hank tossed the dressing into a small box he had nearby, he retrieved a small bottle from the cabinet and twisted off the cap.

"Ah already knew Ah couldn't keep it, Hank..." she reminded, "Ah...Ah already took the first step. Even if it would have worked out...all the responsibility and the worry...the danger...it's not the right time. Not for me...not for Remy."

Somehow, Hank didn't seem any the more relieved to know it. He gave a sigh, "this may sting," he admitted as he poured the bottle onto her wound.

She let out a howl, her body arched at the fiery pain.

"I'm sorry," Hank placed a hand gently against her shoulder and pushed her back down, "I had to put it on undiluted, Logan's powers still course through your veins and his powers fight most of the antibiotics and disinfectants I have, even in their weakened state. I need to kill off as much of the infection as I can until you're strong enough to absorb more from Logan."

Rogue gritted her teeth, "Where's Remy?" she asked, trying to distract herself from the pain.

"Try not to think of him right now," Hank said gently, "just try to relax and focus on healing."

"Is he all right at least?" Rogue asked.

"I haven't seen him, nor talked to him," the beast replied, and this was all he offered on the subject, he dabbed at the disinfectant on the wound with clean cotton to dry off the skin.

"Can Ah see him?"

"Right now...I...think the Professor would rather you focus on getting well," Hank responded, he placed a clean dressing onto the wound and pressed down lightly.

Rogue hissed, "where is he?" she asked again.

"Right now, I'm...uncertain," said Hank quietly.

"What does that mean?" Rogue tried to sit up, the pain wasn't going to allow it, "what happened when Ah passed out-"

"I think you should speak to the Professor...when you're feeling better," Hank suggested.

"Ah feel fine," she frowned, "just tell me what's goin' on."

"It's not my place to say right now, and even if it was, I'm not part of the decision making when it comes to Remy's well-being."

"What is that meant to mean?" Rogue clenched her teeth as Hank taped the dressing in place.

"Remy is being looked after, Rogue, that's all you need to know."

"Ah need to know what's goin' on," Rogue gasped, "Where is my husband?!"

"Please, sit still...you'll burst the stitches," Hank held her down. "I can't answer because I don't honestly know. The Professor is dealing with the situation as best he can; I was given full charge of your well-being which is what I'm trying to do now. You really aren't making this easy, either."

"Please-"

"Hank, it's all right."

Rogue turned her eyes towards the open doorway, the Professor was wheeling in; the wheelchair was not his usual electric one but a manual push wheelchair; Rogue wasn't sure she'd ever seen him use this one, it looked quite old, the leather armrests upon it were old and flaking.

"What's goin' on?" Rogue asked weakly.

"Remy is not at all well, Rogue. I'm sure you realised that," the Professor said gently.

Rogue gave a weak nod.

"We've done all we can for him here, I've tried hard to help him with my powers but he shut me out far too much for it to make an impact. The truth is that Remy has been suffering from post-traumatic stress for several years...since childhood."

Her eyes fell to the floor, tears brimming. It was as Logan had said...why hadn't she asked Remy herself? Why had she let it sit, why had she let him hope he'd come to terms with it and admit it himself?

"He's been coping somehow throughout his life, but when his father died the strain became too much. He began to see things...visions of his father haunting him, telling him things, speaking to him as you and I speak to each other now..."

"Why didn't he tell me..." she whispered. She tried to imagine this. He must have been scared witless. All this time...never a word uttered.

"He was terrified you would think he had lost his mind; terrified that telling you would endanger you further," Professor Xavier explained.

"Logan tried to tell me but...Ah never thought it...might be this..." she sniffled.

"As much as I could glean from him, his guilt and depression over his childhood and the death of his father caused Remy to unknowingly create a ghost that looked and sounded exactly like his father, a ghost that acted abusive, attacking him and sabotaging his life."

"But...but he was attacked," Rogue remembered, "Ah saw it...in security footage."

"He believes he was attacked, yes. I've seen that footage too...but what we see is him throwing himself against the wall with powers he didn't realise he had."

Hank sighed, "it appears Remy may have had telekinetic abilities that he wasn't aware of, that seem to be triggered by moments of stress or heightened emotion."

Rogue thought of Jean's claim that the jar of pasta that had flown across the room months ago had not been her own powers. She'd made assumptions about Remy possibly having telekinetic abilities...could it really be true?

Every time something strange had happened, the glass breaking, the bookcase falling...the van's alarm going off, it had always been with Remy right there. He was no doubt involved, but what if he wasn't directly the cause?

"Isn't it possible there was a ghost?" Rogue asked hopefully, it was easier to believe a ghost than that her husband's mind was failing him.

"We'd like to believe it, because a ghost is far easier to deal with than the issues Remy will be facing over the next six months."

"Six months?" Rogue sat forward, she immediately regretted it, Hank pushed her back down.

"Hold still," Hank said gently, he finished securing the tape to the dressing.

"What do you mean six months?" Rogue asked of the Professor in a panic.

"I've secured a six month place for him in the Haven Springs Psychiatric Recovery Centre...where he'll work with specialists and support groups and deal with the issues that he's been avoiding for years."

"Six months?" Rogue asked again.

"His issues are complex, Rogue. These issues need more than a couple of weeks of rehabilitation and group therapy. He needs isolation from everyone and everything he knows so that he can work on himself and his own feelings and battle his inner demons."

"Isolation...but...that means..."

"That during that time, you won't be able to visit. None of us will..."

"Haven Springs is a wonderful facility," Hank added to the discussion, "I volunteered there one summer to help with recreational activities. The place is on a large estate, with swimming pools, gymnasiums, tennis courts. The place is more like a luxury resort than a psychiatric recover facility," he admitted.

"But it isn't a resort," Rogue felt tears blurring her eyes. "He'll be there...alone..."

"He'll be given expert care and help – the psychiatrists there specialise in mutant care which is why the isolation is six months. His condition isn't just affecting his state of mind, but his powers, and that has to be taken into consideration. Right now he's dangerous, Rogue, I'm sure you realise that. Right now, his telekinesis is affected, but his kinetic abilities may be affected too...he has to be isolated, there's no question." Professor Xavier assured, "when he is released, he of course will be welcome to rejoin us at the institute."

"When is he going?" Rogue felt tears blurring her vision. Six months?! How could they expect her to keep away from him for six months...total isolation? No visits? No phone calls? No letters?

"I'm afraid he's already gone. The decision was made hastily, it was incredibly difficult to secure the a placement for him, we had to act fast, and you were still unconscious, there was little time for goodbyes."

Her tears spilled down her temples, "How could you do that...not let us say goodbye...he'll be gone for six months!"

"I made a decision based on his health and yours," Professor Xavier said gently. "You know I couldn't make this decision lightly; he needs immediate attention, Rogue, as did you..."

Rogue broke into sobs, how could they have done this to her...to him? He must have been in a state of panic already; what if he decided he wasn't going to do this and simply broke his way out? He was a thief after all and a damn fine one...he'd probably be able to pick any lock even without his tools. And what if he used his powers? There'd be no stopping him.

"I know this is difficult," the Professor said softly, "but this is for the best thing for Remy. He needs to heal...and we can't be a part of that process directly."

"But Ah didn't get to say goodbye," she sobbed.

"It's not goodbye," supposed Hank, "it's just a long leave of absence. I'm sure time will fly by."

Rogue put her bare hands over her face and cried into her hands. Over and over she kept asking herself how she had let this happen, how could she have not seen this right in front of her, how had she just ignored it?

"Please try to rest," the Professor said, "Logan will be with you shortly so you can absorb more of his powers. You have a lot of healing to do."

Rogue couldn't help but realise that she wasn't the only one who had a lot of healing to do.

End of Part Forty-Five

Yes, some will probably fight me and say six months isolation from all the people he knows is extreme and unlikely, but in this case as he's a mutant it seemed more likely it'd be a six month time so he can focus on controlling his new powers and get himself together before returning.

Also I'm very aware these last few chapters have been shorter but the next few are considerably longer so it makes up for it in the long run lol. Anyway hopefully have the last two up by either Wednesday or Friday (depending on how things go).

Thanks to all for their wonderful reviews and thoughts, you all are so awesome and have kept me going more than you will ever know.