Moira/Remy (Back dated to noon)

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Moira walked into the area where Remy was being kept for the time being, a thermos of her coffee under one arm, a file under the other and a glass of water in her hand. She put everything down on the table next to him and started checking the machines. Marie-Ange was in class for the next little bit, so she had decided to check in on him before lunch. She eyed the read outs. He was doing better, but it would be a long time before he was 100%. She frowned at the list of unknown drugs in his system. Henry was still running tests on them to determine what they were exactly.

Remy's eyes opened to the sound of buttons clicking, That older red-headed woman was flicked past the monitors, which too many wires linked him to. He ran a hand over his even more than usually stubbled face and yawned. He just felt exhausted all the time, and Amanda's visit had drained him. Her look hurt him, but more her actions. Dammit, she should know better, and to just- the idea of feeling betrayed was almost ironically amusing.

Her gaze flicked over to him and she smiled. "Glad ta see yer awake finally. How're ye feelin'?"

"Like a bunch of demons clawed de fuck out of me. Dat de right answer?" Remy quipped weakly, his heart not really into it.

"Mmm, probably." She ran an observing eye over him. "Feel like tryin' ta get some water in ye? I've also brought coffee, but I dinnae know if'n yer ready fer -tha'- jus' yet."

"Oui, l'eau. Merci." He said, grasping the glass and drinking a long swallow. He coughed, ruefully wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and drinking again. "De doctors t'ink you heal better if you dry as jerky here."

She wrinkled her nose. "So I noticed. I'll make sure'n ta leave a pitcher o' water an' the glass for ye. Have'n dried out Cajun isna exactly what we're aimin' fer."

"Agreed." Remy sighed, sinking back into his pillow. "So, you come t' take over for de cop doctor? She keep looking like she want t' arrest Remy for bleeding de wrong way or somet'ing?"

Moira couldn't help but snicker. "Unfortunatly, Dr. Bartlett is still th' MD, as is 'enry. But I've been keepin' on eye on ye when Marie-Ange hasnae been able ta. 'ad us quite worried fer a while."

"Had myself worried for longer, Remy bet, chere." He said, rubbing his eyes. "Not going t' lose anyt'ing permanent, you think?"

"Not permanent, nay. All yer important digits are still in place. Ye lost quite a bit o' blood an' yer sportin' a good number o' stitches." She smiled. "But ye'll pull out o' this fine if'n ye take it easy fer a few weeks."

"Dat good. All Remy need was more scars." Remy said, smirking slightly. "So femme, what do you do here. Haven't seen you in de black leather, less 'course dats somet'ing you keep private?"

She smirked back. "I'm a wee old ta be sportin' leather fetishes. We Scots tend ta go in fer kilts, nay leather. I'm jus' the resident human specalist on mutant therapy an' chemistry. Th' all around doctor, if'n ye will."

"Dat right? Den what does de all around doctor want wit' Remy den?" He said. "Got some t'iong dat all special t' de movement?"

"I'd say jus' checkin' in on ye, which I am I saw when ye were brought in. But since tha's nay th' only reason, I willnae lie ta ye." She reached over and grabbed his personal file from the other table. "Ye up fer a wee bit o'a talk?"

"Remy had a tennis game I was planning t' make." He said. "But since you ask so nice, chere, I guess I can skip it."

"Glad ta see I'm nay th' only smart ass in th' mansion," she said dryly. She flipped open the file and presented it to him. Completely empty. She shook it slightly. "Nay ta pry...much...but I was goin' through this, tryin' ta make sure we didna kill ye by givin' ye th' wron' blood type." Moira paused. "Remy, what do ye do here exactly? I'm nay sayin' I dinnae want ye ta be here...from th' sounds o' it we were lucky ta 'ave ye but...I don't remember ye bein' in classes an' I don't remember ye bein' on th' staff list. I may be gettin' old..."

"Dat a good question." Remy said, lacing his hands behind his head. "Remy mostly smoke cigarettes. Heard dere was an opening for dat here."

"Considerin' we normally could keep Marlboro in liquid funds fer years wit' the smokin' habit around here..." She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Dat right?' Remy smiled wanely. "Remy just here, chere. Just tell me t' come in and take a look. Guess dey forgot 'bout me once dey found me a room. Haven't talked t' de ones in charge, cept dat Alison, and she just yell at me."

"What?" Moira looked slightly stunned. "If'n they wanted ye ta come, it was either fer classes or th' X-Men. But ta jus'...leave ye?"

"Remy tell dem I'm not joining up wit' anyones war. Dat purple haired girl said dat dis was a safehouse, Remy t'ink. Guess dey forgot." The Cajun, shrugged, and wished for a cigarette for only the hundredeth time. "Maybe it not dat important, wit all de students."

"'ow old -are- ye?" Moira was blunt. "Ye maybe one o' th' students?"

"Not sure. Seventeen, eighteen? My calendar was a little gone on de street." Remy said. "Didn't come t' go back t' school either, chere. Not interested in going back t' de classes."

"What are ye interested in, then?" She held up a hand. "Besides sex, drinkin' or smokin'," she said smiling a little bit.

"Dere is television." Remy said. "Dat about it. Look, chere, I appreciate de little talk, but is dere a reason for dis? Remy just another soldier in case some other Army person or dat Magneto come through de door. Figure if I'm here, I'll fight t' stay alive. Make sense dat's de Profs plan."

She snorted. "Jus' dinnae like ta see anyone ignored, is all. I know 'tis chaotic right now, jus' wanted ta make sure ye were okay wit' bein' here." She eyed the file wryly. "At least -now- we've gotten yer blood type..."

"Oui, de type dats all over de ground." Remy seemed to sag. "Remy never said he alright wit being here."

"Then ye dinnae want ta be here?"

"Dat depends. How many more people Remy have t' kill?" He said, his voice taking on a nasty tone. Despite his attitude, Remy was a young man, and he'd been pushed to breaking by too many events. His attitude was a shield, and with his body in pieces, it was crashing around him.

Well, -that- explained the two other unclaimed bodies from the attack earlier. They couldn't figure out who had killed them but now... "'opefully no one else," she said, her eyes worried.

"Really? No more demons? How about de ones coming though de window." He said, angry. "Dis place make Remy a killer, and your X-Men get mad when people object t' dat. Dis place is fine during de winter, but after..."

"We're all driven ta do what we must in th' worst circumstances," Moira replied evenly, unphased. "An' th' X-Men shouldna object...ye did wha' ye 'ad ta do. Was it pretty? Nah. Was it nice? 'ardly. Did it mean ye came out alive? Aye."

"Was it necessary?" Remy said. "Don' t'ink so, chere. You made it happen, and you people nearly got Remy killed. Even dat damn 'manda. Don' you understand? A year on de streets, Remy never a killer. Dump him around all dese 'heros' and killing is all dey need."

"Ye could 'ave left...but ye didna. An' because ye didna, ye probably saved some lives th' other night." She sighed and shook her head. "Do I agree wit' th' fact tha' people were killed? Nay. Scares me ta deat' ta be 'onest. I'm not sure what it is 'bout this place tha' draws thin's ta it...dangeous thin's..."

"Dey don' need Remy, chere. Got a whole lot of lunatics and heros here. People who signed up t' be killers." Remy rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What de point of being here, chere? You got a good reason?"

She locked gazes with him. "Because I failed someone once, lon' ago, an' I'm repayin' tha' every day. 'Twas at me clinic in Scotland, but I'm needed 'ere fer now."

"Dat's you. Not me." Remy said, exhausted. "Remy just now part of dis and never got a choice bout it. Maybe dat de problem. Streets de first time Remy ever had a choice."
dextelfer: [d]

"Ye need ta rest. If'n ye want, once yer healed up, we'll finish this talk. Ye seem ta brin' a...different flavor t' this talk I've 'ad wit' people before. Maybe next time we talk, ye'll know a wee more where ye want ta go?"

"Remy want t' be out of here. Not want t' be a killer. Not want to deal wit whores dat tell demselves different. You make dat happen, chere, and we can talk again. Otherwise, just leave Remy alone 'til de next time I got t' fight for my life happen."

She pressed a couple of buttons on a near by machine and nodded. "I've worked miracles before, Mr. LeBeau but until I work those, me door -is- open, even if it's jus' ta 'ave small talk." Moira gathered up the folder and gestured to the glass. "I'll brin' ye tha' pitcher o' water. Anythin' else I can smuggle in for ye?"

"Guess a cigarette and a bottle of wine is asking to much?"

Moira grinned. "-Minor- miracles are all I can currently 'andle right now. Anythin' -else-?"

"Non." He turned his head towards the pillow. "Remy got 'nough from you people already."

"Jus' got th' wron' people," she replied, heading out the door. "Rest well, Remy."