PART 39
Without a word between them, Scott and Remy walk through
Moira's research complex until they reach the briefing room.
Remy's tight mask of nonchalance betrays surprise at seeing
Hank and Moira animatedly discussing the Mendel DNA charts
sprawled across the conference table. He notes the angry set
of Storm's jaw as she studies the obsessive details of a man
who would be God. Her clenched fists and squared shoulders
betray a fury that only softens at the touch of his hand over
hers. For a moment, Storm's eyes flash with the promise of
retribution on his behalf. Remy hesitates. He feels a long
forgotten warmth at her protectiveness.
"How is Rogue?"
"Hurtin'."
Ororo's long fingers smooth the stray hair from his eyes.
"And how are you, my friend?"
"...de same...Where's Logan?"
"He is watching over Cosette, as he promised you."
Remy acknowledges Storm's reply with a curt nod. He accepts
a cup of coffee from Kurt before settling wearily into a nearby
chair. He stretches his long legs in comfort, nearly tripping
Scott. Remy bites back a laugh.
"I want answers, Remy."
"Can't be givin' answers to questions dat ain't been
asked, eh?"
Scott frowns.
"How could you choose to sacrifice the lives of innocent
people?"
A tight smile plays across Remy's lips as he taps a last
cigarette from his packet.
"I wasn't de one makin' de choice, homme...you was."
"What?!"
Silence descends, blanketing the room. As one, the others
nervously excuse themselves and quickly take their leave of
the situation. Only one woman remains behind.
"Remy, do not--"
"Get y'self gone, Stormy. Dis best left to de two a
us."
Reluctantly, Ororo also leaves, closing the door on her way
out.
With a flick of his thumb, Remy pops the head of a match
to life and lights the Marlboro. He inhales deeply, savoring
the pleasure of a good smoke as much as he savors the chance
to knock Scott off his righteous pedestal.
"Y'heard what I was tellin' Rogue--'bout de clones?"
"You said Sinister was trying to combine your DNA with
mine--"
An old, familiar panic grips Scott's heart.
"--dear God--"
His eyes brighten in understanding as he sees his worst fear
confirmed in the Cajun's troubled gaze.
"--he succeeded?!"
"More den once."
Scott sinks into the chair across from Remy. He runs a hand
through his hair, considering the implications of Sinister's
achievement. Remy continues, his voice softly distant, as
if talking to himself more than to anyone else.
"Now y'know how it feel, eh? Y'ever t'ink dat maybe
you de clone, mon ami?"
Remy takes another drag from the cigarette and slowly exhales.
His face grows distant, lost in thought.
"Maybe you jus' de shadow a someone else's imaginin'."
Scott sighs.
"Maybe, maybe not."
"Eh?"
"Ever since Madelyne, I've wondered about what Sinister
might have already done. To Jean. To me."
Scott's hands flatten against the curling edges of the Mendel
charts.
"I never dreamed that there might be others he was using."
"How you live wit' dat?"
"I don't do it by destroying the lives of innocent people!"
"You already did!"
"It--wasn't--me."
"Could've been."
Again, the moments of tense silence.
"What happened? I mean, in the theater, how did everything
go so wrong?"
"Non--ev't'ing went jus' like it s'posed to. Tell you
true, I was de one drew first blood. Couldn' be helped. Don'
know dat I would've stopped even if I could've. Not wit' dat
one. Had it comin' for too long."
"Who?"
"Sabretooth."
Remy grinds the last of the cigarette stub into darkness.
"Sinister made a clone of me an' Sabretooth. It came
in for de kill. I was quicker. Dat was de problem wit' all
a Sinister's clones."
Remy taps a finger to his temple.
"No experience, no mem'ries."
"The clones--what were they like?"
"Lambs bein' led to slaughter."
"Dear God...."
"It was de best t'ing for dem. Ev'body understood. 'Specially
after listenin' to Sinister outline what dey lives were gon'
be like. You took most a dem out quick and clean. One blast
bringin' de house down. I took out de rest."
"So the two of you survived?"
"Non. De only way to stop Sinister was to destroy all
de clones. I was in de back rows, thrown off by de ceilin'
fallin' in all around. Dat's when I looked up to see you takin'
on Sinster. Jus' remember seein' a flash an' de clone deflecting
de optic blast into his own body. Even den, a part of you
was willin' to sacrifice your life to stop Sinister."
Remy exhales slowly through pursed lips.
"I hated you for dat. I hated for you bein' more den
I was--more den what I wanted t'be."
Quiet desperation edges Remy's words.
"I didn't wan' to die, I jus' wanted my life back. So--I
ran. Somewhere along de way, I convinced m'self dat I was
de one true Remy Etienne LeBeau--dat I was de one who was
s'posed to be alive."
Absently, Remy flicks the ashes from his armchair.
"I'm sorry that I've let you down, Remy."
Instantly, the Cajun's eyes light on Scott's.
"Eh?"
"You're a member of this team, and that makes you my
responsibility. If you--or anyone else--doesn't feel that
he can talk to me about a problem, then I'm not doing my job
as a leader. I'm not taking care of my people."
Remy flinches as he feels the comforting weight of Scott's
hands come to rest on his shoulders.
"I am sorry, Remy, for everything you've had
to go through. Next time, don't try to take on the world alone.
Understand?"
"...oui..."
Continued in Chapter
40.
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