Madelyn/Remy: Damn That Oath

[x-gambit.livejournal.com]

Remy is checked out before he can check out.

Madelyn sighed and pushed herself back from the computer, taking her glasses off and rubbing the bridge of her nose. Compiling the data they had on Remy LeBeau was a headache, both metaphorically and literally. The kid - if he was that, she wasn't even sure any more - was more than just your average homeless youth. She picked up the scans they'd done back after Limbo, frowning. Plastic laced bones, no doubt implanted during the extensive surgery that had left scars along every major muscle group, the cocktail of drugs in his system, now being eliminated, thank God...

And there was that tattoo on his skull, found when she'd examined the head wound. Just a number... 713. With a sigh, she got up, heading for his room. Time for another check up.

Remy's eyes shot open as soon as the knob started to turn, and he palmed the plastic pill bottle cap that had been left in his room. His powers could turn it into a devestatingly powerful projectile, which would be his only defense of Xavier had finally decided to be rid of him. The flash of a white coat and red hair made him disappear the cap, knowing that if Bartlett was his assassin, he was in worse shape then he'd believed. He closed his eyes again as she slipped in.

He wasn't asleep - the monitors still hooked up to him told her that straight away. But still, if he wanted to play it that way, it was better than another earful of his particular brand of paranoia. Picking up the chart from the end of the bed, she began noting down results from the monitors, not surprised that he was healing relatively quickly. He'd be up and about before long, and probably on his way...

Remy watched her through the slit between his eyelids, as she made notations from the machines hooked up to him. He waited until she came around to his bed, and leaned over to adjust the monitors. He hand slipped out and back under the covers again, and he opened his eyes just as she turned to look at him. "Bed dat big, you t'ink for dat?"
"Only if you want to give yourself an anerysm," she replied dryly. His speech was still slightly slurred, but she gruessed that might be part of making her think he was more helpless than he was - his basic reflexes were certainly responsive enough. "I want to check on how your head's faring - can you sit up for me?"

Remy shifted up in the bed, propping his shoulders against the backrest and meeting her eyes. "Dat what you were looking for?"

"I was looking for indications that you're not about to up and die on me - strangely enough, having a patient do that kind of ruins my day," she replied absently, gently feeling his skull for signs of further damage they hadn't picked up, as well as keeping an eye on his reaction to movement. Both were encouraging. "But you'll be pleased to know, Mr Le Beau, that you're well and truly on the road to recovery. You'll be on your feet in no time."

"Dat mean I can move out of de lab here? Out from under de lights and de probes?" Remy snorted. "Sure you not 'fraid Remy going t' run away again?"

"I'd hope Remy would be sensible enough to not go anywhere until he's healed up and not in danger of doing himself further damage, but yes, you'd be free to leave the medlab. And the school, if that's what you wanted." Madelyn paused in her examination to look Remy in the face. "The Professor's already told you, you're not a prisoner here."

"Bein," Remy said, starting to pull at the covers. "Den you give me back my clothes, and Remy make his way out of de hospital." Madelyn rolled her eyes and snapped the clipboard at him. Remy sat back and smirked. "Dat mean it's more complicated den dat?"

"I said you _would_ be free to leave the medlab. You've suffered a fairly significant head trauma not that long ago... Rapid healing or not, I'm not about to let you go strolling out of here until I'm satisfied you're not going to fall on your face before you take two steps." Madelyn's tone suggested that Remy leaving the medlab wouldn't be a bad thing by her, but she wasn't about to neglect her duty of care. What was it with people and medlab anyway?

"Thought you already said you didn't want t' test Remy's fitness?" LeBeau said, wearily enjoying her obvious dislike of him. After Limbo, he'd discovered her past position with the FBI, and all of their talks had underlined the fact that she likely fealt Remy would be better off in a prison than recieving the Professor's charity.

"I'd prefer to stick to medically-approved methods," she told him, inwardly sighing. "A few more test - I want to run another scan of your head, make sure there's not any subdural bleeding - and we'll see."

"Sure. You do dat here?" Remy said, scratching around the base of his skull, under the edge of the bandage. Madelyn raised a scanner and tapped his hand away. Remy instictively reached for a cigarette and sighed in frustration.

"Do what? See?" Madelyn asked, passing the scanner over Remy's head. One of Hank's toys, it was a lot more easy to use than a conventional MRI scanner, although not quite so thorough. Still, she'd done the full work-up on him the day before, so this was good enough for follow-up. And she didn't want to go through the whole song-and-dance routine it had taken to get him in the damn machine last time. She really had preferred it when he was unconscious. Less lip, for a start.

Remy closed his eyes as the scanner moved over him, and then scowled as Madelyn tapped the buttons, seeming to him to be drawing it out as long as possible. "So, Remy got enough skull left t' leave, or you going need more ducttape?"

"Considering the job you did on yourself, duct tape was definitely looking like an option. Good thing they know their stuff down in St Louis..." No signs of further bleeding, the fractures were healing nicely, his vitals were strong and if the verbal jabs were anything to go by, his brain was functioning. "All right, one more test. Let me see how you are on your feet, and I'll get you some clothes."

"Dat explains de paper outfit." Remy said archly, before swinging his feet out and getting to his feet. His head spun a little from the blood rush from standing again, but his senses were already spinning up, outlining every item in the room, each point of movement. At least some things don't change, he thought. He wasn't exactly stable, but the monitors he was hooked up to were still within healthy limits. And keeping him here wasn't doing anything for either of their blood pressures...
"If I let you out this afternoon, will you agree to daily check ups?" she asked, watching him gingerly take a few steps. "And stick to it? Head injuries are not to be messed with, and as much as you are the poster child for difficult patients, I'd hate to see something happen to you."

"Daily checkups. Wit you?" Remy asked.

"Or Doctor McTaggart or Doctor McCoy when he gets back, if you prefer," Madelyn replied steadily. "But you'd have to see one of us, at least until we're sure there's no permanent damage."

"Least to you get 'round t' causing it." Remy said. "Can I have my pants now, or you wan a couple more minutes t' enjoy, chere?"

"Believe me, I've seen better legs on tables, Remy. Heroin chic never did it for me," snorted Madelyn. "Just let me unhook you from all those and then I'll get you some clothes. Provided you agree to my terms?"

"Fine," Remy sighed. "I come down for de check-up. You get t' see remy without his shirt on 'least once a day. Dat make you happy?" He said, trying to push her buttons as she unsnapped the lines and drew the needles.

"Ecstatic," she told him as she worked. "Believe it or not, Remy, I'm not trying to make your life more difficult. Just longer." She taped a ball of cotton wool over the hole the IV line had left and straightened, looking down at him sitting on the bed. "I'll just get you some clothes. Your stuff was in pretty sad shape, but what's left is up in your room, so it'll have to be the generic Xavier sweats until you get up there, I'm afraid."

"Ah. Guess dat means I owe you for dat." Remy said, and his hand flipped back the beclothes. He tossed her wallet back to her. "Dat make us even?"

"It depends if the credit cards are still in there," she replied evenly.

"Course. Remy don' look like a Madelyn." He said, stepping into the sweats she had provided. "Even den, you don look like de FBI, so maybe we're even."

"I haven't been FBI for over a year, and your research would have told you that," Madelyn told him, passing over a t-shirt. It was too big - Remy was skin and bones and attitude. "But I'm happy to leave things as they are. Just keep the stress down? Neither of us wants you back here."

"Agreed." Remy said, slipping on the crappy hospital slippers and heading for the door. "Back in my old room?" Madelyn nodded. "Guess I didn't get very far at all."