Log: Remy/Jean

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Remy finally wakes up and gets the first news from Jean.



There was a light. Pain happened.

Not the same sense-shattering pain from the last time. Rather a lived in sort of agony, like old wounds seeped into the bones. When Remy opened his eyes, he was honestly astonished that he wasn't in whatever
afterlife was waiting for him. Instead, it was the too white ceiling of the medlab, the bright lights and the quiet hum of the machines around him. He felt awful, but more shockingly, he was alive to feel
anything at all. People mouthed words at him, coming across to see his eyes open, but the room swam. Too much, too soon. Not dead?

Remy sunk back into the pillow and to sleep.

***

The third time was better, Remy considered, as he sipped the mug of broth and felt his head settle. He'd been drifting in and out of consciousness for the last few hours, finally struggling awake and holding on to it for a time. Clarice had come over, fussing with his tubes and things until he'd shooed her away with a plea for food. His scowl at the mug of broth had earned a promise of more substantial food if the doctors said yes, and she'd left.

Despite the weakness, the sheer number of tubes running into his arms, and the fact that something that he couldn't define wasn't right, Remy felt calm. He should be dead. There were questions he needed answered. But that would come, he told himself, concentrating on the immediate needs; quelling the ravanous hunger that gripped him, finding out some answers on the most pressing questions, and discovering exactly how he'd survived.

Remy took another sip from the mug as a light knock sounded, the door opened again and Jean Grey walked in.

"Hello, Remy," Jean said, eyes going automatically to the monitors, the readouts noted and filed away in an instant. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone dropped a warehouse on me. Kind of appropreate, neh?" Remy replied. The tubes jangled as he put his mug down on the side table. "Which raises a pretty important series of questions too."

"I can imagine," Jean said. "I would guess that the first one is 'why am I still alive?', yes?" It didn't even take a telepath to figure that one out.

Remy shook his head. "Where's Lorna? Betsy got the location information dat I'd found on de Brotherhood. Did de X-Men get dem out?"

Interesting. Although not as unexpected as it maybe ought to be. "They're home, they're safe. Lorna's resting in her suite, to the best of my knowledge."

"Bein." Remy nodded slowly. "Dat's good den." It hadn't been in vain. They'd gotten her out.

He stretched his neck and looked around for a moment, as if distracted. "So, oui, why is Remy alive? I remember de injuries pretty well, doctor. Dey not de types you just walk away from."

"No, they weren't. Although we do think you will walk again, it's never going to be easy." Jean's face was serious. There was a question of how much to tell him, how much stress he really needed to be under right now. "But you're alive because Amanda... made you a miracle."

Remy's brain caught the walking reference but suppressed it. There would be a chance to deal with that in a moment. Focus on the priorities. "'manda made me a miracle?" Remy actually chuckled. "You know, one of dese days dat femme is going to get tired of pulling us out of de grave."

"Mmm, yes," Jean said, keeping any of her emotions off her face, needing to focus on her patient. "But we ought to talk," she went on. "There was a lot of damage, and not all of it was completely fixable."

"Remy can imagine." His own face was carefully controlled, waiting for the information. He knew things weren't right, even in the limited wakefulness that he'd had, and he couldn't put his finger on exactly
what. "So, what is still wrong?"

Her voice was gentle as she explained. "The bones in your hip and leg didn't heal straight, Remy. We're not sure why, if it was because there was just too much damage, or Amanda's magic couldn't cope with
the plastics, or what, but the result is that walking will probably be painful, possibly for the rest of your life. There was also some damage to the nerves in your eye, but we haven't been able to ascertain how extensive it is. We'll need to run some tests."

There was a long moment of silence, as Remy processed the information. Suddenly what hadn't been right became clear; his spatial awareness. The vision out of his left eye was weak, the peripheral vision mostly gone. The nausua must have something to do with his powers trying to feed information into his brain that his body wasn't collecting fully any longer.

"I see." He said quietly. LeBeau had been training for a long time. He knew how badly he relied on his sense of sight for most of the preternatural abilities he possessed. The part that wasn't hooked to his eyes was his agility, and now they weren't even sure he'd walk again. "Dat de extent of it?"

"That we know of now," Jean answered. "We're going to need to run some tests, now that you're awake."

"Isn't dat always de case?" Remy groused weakly. "Food. Dat's what I need."

"Mmm, true, we do have a fondness for poking anyone who comes in through our doors with needles and attaching them to machines and so on." She offered him a little smile. "I'll see what can be done in the
way of food you'll be able to stomach."

"Any more broth and Remy sueing de lot of you." he said wryly. "Walking might be out of de picture, agility as well. What you saying doctor, is dat I'm basically crippled for all intents and purposes."

"I'll keep that in mind." Jean sighed. "There's a lot we don't know, Remy. You've healed far faster than even your accelerated metabolism usually goes, and while, yes, it does look like that's coming to an end, we can't be certain. Currently I would say that walking may always be difficult, but that you will walk again, and beyond that I just don't know."

Remy sat quietly, mulling over the information. It was a shock, and the reality of it was starting to settle in. Walking would be difficult. None of the agility that he prized. Even with Amanda's miracle, Lorna had been particularly thorough. Even though he survived, he'd never be the threat to Magneto that he once represented.

"Well, dat's something to think 'bout, neh?" He said calmly. While Remy knew he hadn't dealt with the full reprecussions of the injuries, he also had already resigned himself to death. Which meant being alive and breathing was already ahead of his expectations. While it would plague his thoughts, he couldn't find it in him to mourn too much. "Guess you missed out on you chance to dance wit' me, chere."

"I'm a terrible dancer, anyway," Jean said, relieved by how calmly he was taking this. "Would never have been able to keep up."

"Alors, another love affair ruined." Remy plucked at the bedclothes. "We looking at physical therapy or something?"

Jean shook her head. The magical healing had repaired the damage so that his muscles had adapted to the new shapes. In fact, so well that trying to fix it would have required them to remove muscle and tissue
just to fix the bone. Remy looked relieved, obviously having considered a long period of rehabilitation like a curse. "Dat's de magic den? Remy can just get right up now?"

She nodded. "Yes, if you like and promise to not hide when we come to do some final tests."

"Maybe I'll wait for a bit before making dat run." Remy said, leaning back in the bed. There was so much to consider, and just not enough time yet. Plus, he was starting to get a little tired, over the hunger. "How long you need to keep Remy in here?"

"Hmmm," Jean said, considering. He was basically fully healed, but his body would still need to adjust, and she had a pathalogical love of keeping her patients around for observation. "A week or so ought to be enough. We'll need to wait until the results of the tests get finished, too, and make sure you've fully recovered."

Remy just nodded. "Appreciate some real food if you have de time. Let Lorna and 'manda know dat Remy's up. Might need to have a talk wit' dem, neh?" He smiled thinly and closed his eyes. Too much to think about. "Thought being dead was going to be more relaxing."

"I'll let everyone know, if you like. You have more than a few admirers who have been worried about you, you know." And a post to the journals would, in theory, answer the problem of how to let Amanda know without seeing or talking to her, or risking giving in to the desire to smack her.

"Dat's Remy. Social butterfly." He muttered as he drifted back to sleep. Jean smiled slightly as she tucked the blanket back up over his chest before quietly letting herself out.