Eep! I know, this is a tad late – my apologies. I am actually working two jobs now, as a sub and a secretary, and the shock of it threw off my groove. Anyhow, here it is, the Big Finale (or perhaps I should say the 'Big Damn Finale'). Finally! Anyways, read on.
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Chapter Nine: Eighteen Years
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Remy was running from someone.
(When did this happen?)
At first, he thought his pursuers were the police, and that thought made him giddy. His feet moved faster in response; his eyes scanned the foggy backdrop for any place to hide; but, all the walls were solid, not a window or small corner in sight. Never mind. Remy chewed on the corner of his lip and indulged himself with a sharp grin. He could outrun them. He was bursting with energy and adrenaline, bubbling under the skin; this was the sensation he'd been missing.
(But there was something else.)
Then, he passed them, nearly tripping over their bodies. He kicked up his legs in a jump to avoid falling over the boys in blue – the fuzz – the cops – the police, who lay scattered and far from consciousness. Heads back, mouths open, a crust of blood on one's temple. The giddy feeling left him, and a newfound sense of dread moved in to fill the empty space. If the police weren't after him, who was? He dared a peek over his shoulder and saw only a piece of paper lying on the floor. He fell out of his run and went to pick it up. A deed. The scribbling was small, red, and he didn't bother reading it because it seemed insignificant to the property being signed away: himself. The signature at the bottom was unfamiliar to him, but he memorized it anyway. John Black, it read
(A feeling of familiarity…)
"Remy?" He turned, and saw Luc, all concern and worry. The older man walked up to him and tossed an arm over his shoulder. Luc gave him a brief, comforting squeeze. "You're not alone, you know. I'm here with you. I'll always be here. This" – and here he snatched the deed away – "Isn't anything you should fear."
"I don't understand it," Remy said. He shook off a shiver and turned to see where the police had been, but they were gone now.
"You do," Luc assured him. "Trust me." He led them both a handful of steps, and they came upon a set of mirrors, curved like they were part of a funhouse.
(Where were they at, again?)
If he squinted, Remy could make out the shape of a monster, and he coiled back in disgust and horror. A string of curses slipped out in a hushed, harsh whisper. The hand on his shoulder dug in harder, until he could feel nails pressing into his skin. "Resist the urge to flee, Remy."
Blinking hard, Remy said, "What is dat?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Luc shook his head, like he couldn't believe Remy hadn't caught on yet.
Remy looked back to the monster, all claws and teeth and bloody, matted fur. "Big foot?"
"Not quite."
"It's…"
"You? Is that what you hesitate in asking? There are a lot of mirrors here, Remy. That could so easily be a reflection of you. Your inner demon. Or, of mine, I suppose, but I feel fairly certain I don't have an inner demon." He laughed. "Anyway, there's only one way to find out if it's you or if it isn't."Remy wanted to say that he didn't care. Him or not, it was freaky, and he would be perfectly fine to just leave it alone. Walk away. Was there an exit to the funhouse from hell? There had to be. How else would he have wound up inside? If he could just find it… But Luc pulled him closer to the monster and all protests died on his tongue. Certainly, they didn't register in his feet, which moved exactly where they were instructed. Closer, until he could see its sharp claws, curling tail, and bright eyes. Bright red eyes.
"It is me." He whispered. He turned to Luc, because the man seemed to have all the answers. "What do I do now?"
"I've heard that some people battle their inner demons, Remy." Of course. Except…
"But he's a reflection in da mirror. An' even if he weren't, I don't have no weapons. He's got claws." Sharp claws, at that.
"And I thought you were supposed to be resourceful. Reach in and pull him out. You don't need weapons. You've got spirit."
He had spirit. Yes. He had spirit. Remy swallowed hard and stuck his hand towards the glass. Amazingly, it went right through. His fingers curled around the shirt that the demon was wearing. He gave a yank, and the demon stumbled. Remy laughed. Was he really that strong? How empoweringHe grinned, and attacked.
After a moment and a few well-placed hits, the demon started fighting back. Claws sank into Remy's arm, and he hissed, but didn't cry out. "Dat all y' got?" He teased, aiming a kick at the demon's leg. It didn't land where it should've, because suddenly the demon was standing on the other side of him. He couldn't help but frown.
"Don't give up," Luc encouraged.
"I'm not," Remy promised. He attacked again, catching the demon off guard. They both tumbled to the ground, taking and landing hits. At last, Remy gained the upper hand. He grinned triumphantly when his hand caught the demon's throat. The demon squirmed, whimpered slightly, but did not struggle anymore. To Luc, Remy asked, "What do y' do wit' inner demons when da fightin' stops?" He'd never gotten this far in the battle.
"Simple. You kill them."
"Oh." He could do that. He tightened his grip, locking the air out of the demon's lungs. Tighter, tighter, tighter… then, abruptly, loosened his hand.
"Why are you hesitating?"
"Why do I have t' kill him? I mean…he's subdued."
"He's going to come back and haunt you again."
"So I'll beat him again."
"He'll be stronger."
"I'll be stronger."
"Remy. Kill him!"
"I don't want to."
"Do it!" Luc roared, and in his anger, his face morphed. It grew grotesquely red, misshapen, distorted. It grew frightening.
Remy stood up, away from the demon. "What da hell…"
"Kill him or I will kill you, Remy LeBeau. I've not wasted my time for nothing. I will have you, one way or another."
"Who are you?"
"I am the master of this world!" Luc screamed, and suddenly Remy was awake – back at the carnival, and there was Kurt at his feet, hurt and bruised, maybe unconscious, but thankfully still breathing; not a demon, after all, but a friend. Everything came back in one screeching, screaming, forceful rush that crashed through Remy's head like the worst hangover of his life. Never trust the devil, not for anything. He repeated that thought as he raised his head, tilted his chin upwards, and met Luc, face-to-face. Face-to-something, anyway. The older man had transformed into a great, powerful, hulking and immensely dark figure, only visible in the shadows, but enough to be scary as hell.
"Maybe da master o' da world as a whole," Remy said, and thought – he couldn't lose his new family – he couldn't lose Rogue – "But y' got no hold on' dis boy. Whatever y' wanted me t' do for y', it's gonna have t' get done sans Remy LeBeau."
The dark figure lurched forward. "Eighteen years I've waited for this – do you know the trouble I took for you? What makes you think you could possibly reject me? Who are you to tell me no? I am everything, everywhere. I am power, personified. I will not be denied by the likes of you, Remy LeBeau. Not on any count."
"Well," Remy said, swallowing air and hoping there was a good degree of courage mixed in. "I think y' about t' learn a very valuable lesson. I intend t' rise an' fall on m' own merits, guided by m' own conscience. I am not yours t' keep, Luc. I am my own man. An' dat girl, my Rogue? I love her, an' you can glide in on dat fancy talk, but at da end o' da day, she knows me, she trusts me, and she's gonna be on my side. Which, t' recap, is not on yours." Luc turned to see Rogue, who was still locked in place. But surely he recognized as clear as Remy did that she was no longer swayed; the spell was broken; Rogue was saved.
Luc reddened and reddened until he seemed about to explode entirely, but then, abruptly, he shrank back to his former size and form, becoming the handsome, bright and pale man who'd first entered their lives. "Okay," he said, almost sweetly. "Okay. I'm beat – there's no denying that. Go on, Remy. Go be good. Give it the old college try. But I know you better than you know yourself. You're going to fail. And when you do?" Luc brushed another not-there wrinkle from his perfect black suit before giving a quick shrug. "I'm going to be waiting."
Remy blinked and he was gone.
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"Ah placed a call ta the mansion. Help is on the way." Rogue sniffled from the cold and dropped down to her knees, down to eye level with Remy, who was sitting at Kurt's side. "An' Ah found your cops – looks like they're just beat up some an' sleepin'. It seems like we've got a happy endin' after all – thanks ta you." She bit a lip. "Just a little bit longer an' Ah'd be in a remake o' Rosemary's Baby. So much for my moral high ground – should've left the preachin' an' lecturin' ta Kurt an' Scott."
"Non." Remy had found an inch-long twig, and he played with it now, scratching at the gravel floor, drawing signs and scribbles of nothing. "If I'd behaved, we wouldn't be in dis boat at all. Chere, y' got nothin' t' apologize for. I should've been more…" He sighed. "Responsible."
She managed the hint of a smile. "We are gettin' old, aren't we. Growin' up sucks. It looks so good on other people, like when Logan slips out for a weekend away, o' how Ororo walks around like she owns the world. But here we are an' Kurt's unconscious an' the police are passed out an' all Ah can think is, this is what happens when we follow our own instincts. Disaster. Mayhem." Rogue bowed her head and said, "Ah heard ya talkin' ta Luc." She almost winced and Remy felt his heart sink through his torso and spill out onto ground around him.
She didn't want him. She was trying to figure out how to let him down.He felt his heart thud-thud-thud and thought – how stupid was it, that he could find the courage to face down Evil itself, but couldn't handle the thought of Rogue knowing he loved her and not reciprocating. What to say? It's okay – I meant it in a platonic way.Remy almost took it back, almost forced a (fake) sly grin onto his face and denied the whole thing. But the consequences of his previous lies hadn't even settled in yet, and it was too early, too soon, to start telling tales again.
"The thing is this," Rogue finally said. "All this time Ah've been actin' like Ah was mad at ya, an' the truth is Ah'm mad at me. While we were in Luc's game, somethin' bad happened. No, nothin' like that." She rolled her eyes and waved off his sudden concern. "Ya kissed me. An' Ah liked it."
"I – I wasn't anywhere near," Remy said. "I swear."
"Ah know that." She coughed. "It wasn't real. But ever since, Ah can't help but think – if only it was." Color seeped into her face and she wrinkled her nose, as if the thought wasn't really that pleasant – like she was admitting a sudden addiction to a foul-tasting meal.
Remy didn't respond, not right away. He looked at Kurt, who breathing steadily and seemed all right, except for some new bruises and the lack of consciousness; he placed a hand on the other boy's shoulder, then reached across and took one of Rogue's hands. It was nice – sweet, assuring, warm, everything he'd been missing and needing - and it was only begrudgingly that he broke the moment, grinned, and said, "I guess y' really couldn't resist my charms after all."
"Your face is gonna find it awfully hard ta resist my fist if ya don't shut up."
"I understand y' hands are attracted t' my person, but for propriety's sake, y' gonna have t' play it cool."
"Ya know what else is cool? Dead Cajuns."
"An' long, hard… popsicles," he added.
"Tasted your share, have ya?"
"Please." The word was more of a moan, and it came from Kurt, who suddenly blinked his eyes open. "I'm injured, not deaf," he said. "And I think listening to this is corroding my brain."
"Kurt!" Remy cheered. "You're alive."
"And you seem… not indentured to Satan."
"I'm – not quite free," Remy admitted. "I got a darkness in me I can't seem t' shake."
"Join the club," Kurt said, moaning again as he tried to push himself up into a sitting position. "Who's perfect?"
"Well, if y' listen t' da ladies…"Remy started, then paused when Rogue raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I'm sure somethin' interestin' would be said – 'course, I wouldn't know. Ooh, is dat a Tilt-a-Whirl?"
To Kurt, Rogue said, "We're gonna get over this, aren't we. Ah mean, Ah think it'll get worse once it all sinks in, but – we're gonna be okay."
"Ja," the blue mutant said. "I think so." He glanced at his watch. "What time is it? I bet we still have school tomorrow. Education doesn't care about the epic battle between good and evil."
"School?" Rogue shook her head. "We gotta figure out how ta celebrate Remy's birthday. It's after midnight – he's eighteen."
"How about we all go home," Remy said. "Couldn't imagine a better place t' spend my time." He waited a beat, then added, "'Course, it wouldn't hurt t' invite our old friends Jack Daniels and Cap'n Morgan.
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May Black stared at her baby a good long time, wiping tears from her own face and smearing them onto the smooth, perfect surface of her child's skin, as she tried to memorize the feel of him in her arms. "So sorry, Baby Boy," she murmured to him. "So very, very sorry." She cast one last gaze around and then settled him down on the sidewalk. What else to do?
Slowly, she retreated from her son.
Left him, to save him.
As she went, she kept a prayer on her lips – God bless you, she thought.
He did.
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FIN
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Some notes. I wanted to write a story about Remy and the devil; originally, it was going to be sequel to The Freedom Caper, but then I wanted a fic that had Rogue and Remy as friends (with possibility) and it spiraled off into its own story. The story is sort of a homage to Stephen King's The Man in the Black Suit, which is itself an homage to Nathaniel Hawthorne's Young Goodman Brown; I was fascinated by the idea of the devil in a black suit, but I thought – if he is going to seduce Remy, there has to be something beautiful and dangerous and alluring about him (and here, I used as a secondary inspiration M. Rosenbaum's portrayal of Lex Luthor). I wanted a really dark story, but I like the way it turned out, anyways. I hope you did, too! Stay tuned for more stories and check out the ones I am already working on, esp. 1942 because it's getting updated next. Who doesn't love a good WWII fic?
Questions? Comments? Coconuts? I'm Eileenblzr at Yahoo or YIM, and comeon-eileen at livejournal.