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The Dark Version

Dr. McCoy took a deep gulp of the pitch black coffee. Truth be told, the copious amounts of caffeine in his system were the only thing keeping the mutant both aware and awake. Save for his patient, he was alone in his lab, having sent the others to bed under doctor's orders. There was nothing they could do, and besides the group needed the rest. Between this and the recent death of one of the students, no one had been getting much sleep lately.

Deep within himself, Hank was beginning to wonder if there was anything he could do. Gambit had now been unconscious for almost five days, and he showed no signs of awakening. Hell, the doctor wasn't even entirely certain what was wrong with the Cajun. Remy had just spontaneously collapsed. The only bright spot in the whole affair was that his patient was not noticeably getting worse either.

The mutant turned, only to receive a face-full of airborne sedative. It took affect almost immediately, the Styrofoam coffee cup slipping from nerveless fingers. Hank barely had time to recognize his attacker before the darkness totally encroached on his vision. His last thought being one of horror, how had the other gotten inside the institute.

The man known as Mr. Sinister's face was impassive as his eyes momentarily studied the unconscious figure dangling from his fingers. It wasn't concern that had prompted him to catch Dr. McCoy, but a simple desire to minimize any noise. It would take more than a simple five foot drop to harm the Beast.

Once the other was situated on the floor, Essex turned to the true object of his attention. He approached the hospital bed on silent feet, removing the medical chart from its spot on a nearby table. The geneticist quickly flipped through the information, committing it to memory.

After a moment Sinister sighed. "Remy, Remy Remy," he chided the still figure. "What have you done to yourself this time?" He had his suspicions of course, no one knew the Cajun's physiology the way he did. However, he would wait to make any premature announcements until he had the boy back at his own lab.

Throughout all this Gambit remained insensate. Completely unaware of the situation he was in, even when Mr. Sinister leaned over to whisper in his ear. "I very much doubt you will be grateful," the geneticist said softly. "But in the end, that doesn't truly matter." After all, what could not be bent, could always be broken.

He would prefer that Remy serve him willingly. However, if it came to that, Sinister was more than capable of forcing the issue. "It is time to come home now my son," the red-eyed man whispered. "If you are capable, than I suggest you say your goodbyes. You will not be returning here." Essex had no intention of risking Gambit through close contact with the X-Men. There were a multitude of other tasks the cajun thief could fulfill for him without getting anywhere near his former comrades.

When the X-Men discovered Hank's unconscious body, it was far too late. Gambit was gone, and there was no way to find him. Not until Sinister wished it, and sociopathic scientist never would.

Brr, I blame this on too much time daydreaming about other peoples fics. It is the original, but then I remembered.

It is Father's Day. So, if you want something not so gloomy, so read the light version.