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"Scars"

Scars

Warnings: Mature themes throughout the story, dealing with rape, torture and the psychological traumas of imprisonment in a concentration camp. Sexually explicit scene in Chapter 23.

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
Author's Notes

Scars

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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