PART 7
It should have been simple. Routine even. Go in. Get Rogue.
Get out. Remy winces as he rolls onto his back. Now that his
basic needs are being met, he finds his thoughts returning
to the beginning of his torment. Disturbing thoughts that
perhaps his actions carry more responsibility for his condition
than Rogue's inaction.
He punches the pillow, then bites his lip against the pain
as the skin of his fingers pulls against fresh stitches. Tears
of frustration sting his eyes. It was all a set-up. He had
suspected as much at the time. After all, the source of his
information was Mr. Sinister who was certainly involved only
to further his own twisted schemes.
With a groan, the young Cajun rolls onto his other side,
unable to find a comfortable position.
He had been careful, hadn't he? He had tried, against his
better judgment, to contact Amnesty International and check
on Rogue's whereabouts. He had been told she was away on a
mission. He had been told she was a week overdue. And suddenly
Mr. Sinister's information that Rogue was imprisoned in a
New Genoshan concentration camp wasn't so easy for him to
dismiss.
Remy chokes out a bitter laugh.
What was you gon' do, boy? Tell de others dat Rogue be
in trouble? Tell 'em dat you know dis 'cause Sinister say
it so?
He could never have explained his involvement with Sinister.
Never. Instead, he gambled on the information being true and
went after Rogue on his own. Gambled, and lost. His heart
turns cold. He had only lost a few months of his life. Nicola
and his child lost their lives.
"Remy?"
Even without rolling over, he recognizes the voice. Tseidel
Romanov. She speaks his name softly, with a distinct accent
derived from her combined Russian/German heritage. She is
a good woman. A survivor. Remy owes his life to her many times
over. He opens his eyes to see her shadowed against the doorway.
"Dey treat you okay, chere?"
She nods.
In six months of forced proximity, they have learned to read
each other well. Wordlessly, he throws the covers aside and
moves over. Tseidel joins him. Remy wraps his arms around
her as he as done for the past six months. Only then, there
were three of them forced onto a single cot, huddled together
for what meager warmth and comfort might be found in hell.
She shivers. Remy takes her hands in his, warming them.
Tseidel looks down at the line of stitches crossing the webbing
of his thumb. Her tears dampen his skin. Remy tightens his
hold, offering whatever protection his broken body might still
provide. And finding solace in knowing that she alone truly
understands how he feels, because she was in New Genosha with
him. He bites back a yelp as she suddenly turns over, jarring
tender muscles.
"These people, they have much love for you."
He snorts in response. She strokes his cheek. Even in the
dim light, he can see the confusion troubling her gray eyes.
He knew it would come to this sooner or later. Knew that it
would be Tseidel's innocent curiousity that would throw everything
back in his face, forcing him to make a conscious decision
to pursue revenge or leave the past behind.
"The woman who rescued me, her name is Rogue, yes?"
"Oui."
"When you first arrived in New Genosha, you spoke fondly
of a woman named Rogue. For many nights, over many weeks,
you spoke to us of your plans for a life, a family, with her.
This is not the same person? This is not the woman whose memory
you cherished?"
"Dey only one Rogue."
"Do you so easily forget--"
"Go t'sleep."
Tseidel rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling as she
considers his words. In her heart, she knows he is wrong to
push this woman away. She remembers, even if he would try
to deny the truth of their ordeal. The survivors of New Genosha
had lived because of their dreams, because of their willingness
to believe in a future life beyond those walls.
For Nicola, it was feeling her child grow inside that sustained
her. Tseidel kept her sanity by mentally reviewing the ingredients
and preparations of native German delicacies.
Remy had eventually turned to Nicola for comfort, but initially
it had been thoughts of Rogue's voice telling him all would
be well that urged him on. It had been Rogue's imagined hands
caressing the aches from his bones. Rogue's body that curled
next to his each night.
Remy turns onto his side. He's momentarily surprised not
to find Nicola's face next to his. He feels the warmth of
Tseidel's body against his back. But his hand reaches out
to nothingness on the pillow next to him. Again, the tears.
Again the bitter, frustrating anger wells up. In the darkness,
Remy LeBeau finds comfort in thoughts of Rogue, and of how
she will react when he has broken her as thoroughly as he
has been decimated.
Continued in Chapter
8.
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