xp_logs | The Devil In My Mind

This evening. Amanda finally goes to see Remy, and ends up meeting Gambit.

This probably constituted breaking doctor's orders about stress levels, but Amanda hadn't been able to settle since reading Dr Bartlett's post. And faced
with yet another night of tossing and turning and wondering, she decided eventually to do the pro-active thing and face what was bothering her. She'd been avoiding him for over a week, scared at what he might say, and too worried to find out. It was what Samson kept telling her she had to do, after all. Wiping her sweaty palms on the legs of her jeans, she tapped hesitantly on his door. "Um, Remy? You awake?"

There was a long moment of silence, and Amanda was about to leave when finally he spoke from behind the closed door. "'manda?"

"Yeah, 's me. I saw you were back, thought I'd drop by, see how you were doin'..." she said, aware of how lame she sounded. "Can I come in?"

The door swung back as she had knocked, unlatched and easily opened. She peered in to see him sitting at the small table, staring out the open window and smoking. There was a bottle of Jack Daniels on his table that she was sure he didn't buy, and a stack of newspapers covering the rest of the space. He looked like hell. That was her first thought. Even without the bandages swathed around his head and what reddish hair visible cut short, he was haggard, too-thin, reminding her of every junkie she'd ever seen. Reminding her of herself. "Door was open," she said, managing a slightly-twisted smile.

"Dey get nervous if I lock it." Remy said, not turning to look at her. He picked up a tumbler from the table and took a long swallow, before returning to his staring at the window.
"How are you? You look..." Like shite. She took another step or two further into the room, closing the door behind her. "I wondered, what happened t' you. After you disappeared like."

Remy took a long moment to light another cigarette, pitching the old butt out the window. "Went back to de streets, where else? Surprised dat dey didn't try t' hual me back earlier." He still hadn't turned, just moving a pad covered in writing from in front of him and on to the stack of papers, some of them marked with red.
"An' the head? You look like someone took a brick t' you." Another step or two. "I could help heal it, if you like. 'M surprised the docs didn't ask me to already."

"Non. Remy fine." He said flatly, turning his head to regard her levelly for a long moment before turning back to the window. "Dey happier t' keep Remy up here."
Amanda winced imperceptibly. This wasn't good. Still, she was here now, best to get it over and done with.

"Yer still angry at me then," she said, crossing her arms over her chest to hold in the trembling. She was wearing one of the newer shirts, the scars visible above the lower neckline.

"Why would I be mad?" Remy said, tipping more bourbon into his glass. He sipped it, leaning back in his chair. Amanda came forward to sit in the chair across from him. "Fact dis gives Remy a chance to pay back de debt he owes you."

"I remember you bein' pretty pissed off at me, before..." Amanda began, but if he wanted to let it drop, she was more than happy to. "Debt? You don't owe me nothin'."

"Sure I do." Remy scrabbled into a pocket, and came up with a ratty ten. With a flick, he tossed it into her lap. "Now we square, 'manda."

This time the flinch was visible. "You..." She picked up the ten with two fingers, as if it burned, and dropped it on the table between them. "Keep yer money," she
told him, trying to keep the stony edge to her voice, but failing miserably. "I ain't for sale, then or now."

"Course you are. We all are. De professor, your boyfriend, dey all make dere payments." Remy hauled deeply on his cigarette, the ember blazing. "All want something and dey all going to get it. Dat is de world, 'manda." His fingers tapped along the papers, eyes flickering between her and the window.

"It's not like that here." She said, more of a plea than a statement.

"Sure it not." Remy's voice twisted, grew darker. "Non, dey pull you in off de street and let dere pet empath go t' work on your mind. Give you all de bright stories about how dey heroes. Teach you how t' fight for dem."

"I ain' fightin' for nobody, an' Manny... 'S not like that. He... he loves me." She held onto that knowledge like a lifeline. "He was there when I was off me head, helped me get through it. Saved me life, at Columbia." She glared at him. "You wouldn't understand."

"'mazing how often your life need saving since you came here. Remy, Manny; easy way t' bind you to somewhere. Make a debt." LeBeau leaned in. "You want t' know the truth, ma petite femme? You should have taken the money, because dats more den dey going to give you in exchange. Soon you start thinking 'bout dis war. You start seeing de bodies behind your eyes. You going to know de easiest way to kill a man is to punch a knife in his navel and watch him bleed out."
"What fuckin' war?" Amanda retorted. "The only war is the one in yer head, Remy. The same one yer've been fightin' ever since you got here."

"Oh, de little witch t'inks she knows." Remy leaned over the table, nose to nose with her. "How much blood you got on your hands yet? How much your friends got. How much de damn people here got! Enough dat it a surprise de walls don't drip! It stays, 'manda. Stays in your hand 'cause dey put it dere, and it grows and grows and grows until you like doing and all you remember was liking it!"
"I haven't..." she began, but faltered, because it wasn't true. In her mind's eye she saw Jubilee stumbling backwards as she fired a force bolt at her, smelt the decaying flesh of Jamie's evil clones. Remembered how she'd felt in Limbo, full of dark power and relishing the kill. "It's not like that," she said, stubbornly. "Sometimes you have t' do what you have t' do, t' protect yerself. You should know that."

"And you get to protect yourself an awful lot here, don't you?" He was sneering, the dark circles under his eyes adding a demonic leer to his thin face. "Just an excuse for the blood. Does it get you off yet, you little bitch? You and your owners fuck in the remains? Does he like to taste their fear? Do you? The hands neatly lined up for the parents to find? Maybe cutting your own orifice to use." Amanda didn't register him moving until her shoulderblades hit the wall and Remy's face was against hers, screaming, while his fists held her to the wall by her shirt. Do you like it yet!" In his eyes, she saw nothing but a vicious joy in causing pain; a madness that chilled her to the very core, seeing what evil really was. He kept screaming, his words foriegn to her. "Sie möchten ein Teil des fucking Stammes sein hier und mich mitnehmen. Ich töte für mich und Sie konnten erstes sein Sie wenig Cunt! Für mich zuerst bluten!"

It was all horribly familiar - the rough grip on her shirt, the torrent of enraged gibberish, the madness in his eyes. In a blink of an eye Amanda was a child again, and without realising it she was whimpering as he kept slamming her against the wall, words barely coherent: "Please, Rack, don't, I'm sorry, I won't ever do it again..." Her head collided with the wall, hard, and she bit her tongue, the pain huge and overwhelming, triggering her panic. Blue-edged lightning flared around her as she instinctively grasped at a spell, any spell...

The air crackled and with a crash and a soarching smell of ozone, her spell detonated between them. Remy flew backwards, crashing over the table, sending papers flying and the bottle to shatter on the wall. Amanda hit the floor, first feet and then her ass as her knees gave out. LeBeau was lying on the other side of the upturned table, his legs jutting out at odd angles over the table edge.

"I won't do it any more, I'm sorry, don't..." Amanda wasn't aware of what she was saing any more, rocking herself slightly as she huddled on the floor. She'd
triggered the shielding spell as the other spell detonated, not even realising, the air shimmering blue around her. It was the concern, the fear for her, down
the link that finally made her register where she was, and she looked over at Remy with something close to horror.

LeBeau twitched and groaned, covering his eyes with his hand. The flash had pretty much blinded him, and his head felt like it was about to come open. He opened and closed his eyes several times, trying to clear the spots that swam in front. The shock had been that; one minute he was sitting at the table, the next he was flying over it and discovering the floor in a ballastic fashion. "De hell..." He muttered weakly.
He was alive. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. "I'm sorry," she quavered, shaking violently. "I didn't mean... you were hurtin' me, an' I couldn't..." He stirred, and she flinched back almost violently, the shielding spell growing in intensity. "Don't..."

Remy could barely hear her past the blood rushing through his head. His chest was burned where the bolt had grounded, and he felt like he'd been run over by a truck. He slowly sat up, still trying to clear his vision. "'manda, wha-" He said, and a violent coughing fit cut him off.
He was hurt. She'd done it again, she'd hurt someone. All her efforts weren't worth shite... "I'll call the doctor," she said, trying hard to pull herself together. Alarm down the link, Manny would be looking for her, and she couldn't let him find her here, Remy would kill him he'd said he would. But her legs were shaking so hard she didn't think she could get up, and there was the taste of blood in her mouth, making her want to throw up. "I didn't mean... I'm sorry," she repeated. It was becoming a mantra.

"Non! No doctors." Remy rasped. He spat blood from his mouth, wiping it away with the back of his hand. "None of them, ever." Whatever had happened was bad, clearly. Amanda was shaking like a leaf at the other side of the room, too scared to run, and he felt the sick ebb of hate and the need to hurt filling his nerves, like a poison. What the hell were they turning him into?

The harshness of his tone made her start violently, and she slowly pushed herself upright, using the wall for support. She had to get out of here, before something else happened, before she killed him. Or before he killed her - she remembered the madness, the brutal enjoyment in his eyes and shuddered. "No doctors," she agreed, her voice trembling and childlike. "I won't call them. Just... don't hurt me. Please?"

Remy recoiled like he'd been struck. His vision had cleared enough to see the stark terror on her face; the fear that he must have caused. He snarled, clutching the sides of his head. What had happened? He couldn't remember, couldn't see the last few minutes, but in the back of his mind he knew. It was simple enough. They had made him into a killer. The school, the professor, had decided on assassin the moment they scooped him off the streets. Maybe that was what Amanda was for; his final test. If she died, he was the perfect tool to make the bloody images they'd put behind his eyes. And he'd nearly done it. One look at her and he knew. He'd nearly killed her and he couldn't remember. The man they wanted was winning. "Go," he sobbed, head coming to rest on the floor, forehead against the carpet like a penitent before God. "GO!"

The anguished cry sliced across her raw fear like a knife and she bolted, openly sobbing now. Back downstairs, not to her room, but to the only place, the only person she felt was safe, the shield still up as she ran.

Remy didn't hear her go, didn't hear anything as he knelt there, hands pressed to the sides of his head, mind screaming. It seemed like an eternity before his breathing finally slowed, his panic ebbed enough to actually take in the wider world. They had made a monster of him. Remy struggled to his feet. There was no way he was going to be the man they tried to make him. Determination filled him as he reached for his bag. If he couldn't stop it, he could at least stop himself, before he could do those things to anyone. Next time, it would be a knife instead of a brick, and no hospital on this planet would be able to bring him back.

He threw a handful of clothes into the bag, his staff, a thin roll of money that he'd lifted. He was pulling a sweater over his head when the phone rang on the bedside. Maybe they were on to him? Fuck it, he thought. If they tried to stop him, they'd have to kill him this time. Remy snatched up the phone, ready to hear the voice of the professor or one of his trained monkeys. Instead, it was a man's voice he'd never heard before.

"Mister LeBeau?"

"Oui?"

"Climb Mount Niitaka, Mister LeBeau. Climb Mount Niitaka." There was a click which Remy didn't hear, lost as his mind cracked open and swallowed him.

Nathan and Madelyn are the first to hear, as Amanda flees to Manuel.

Something was wrong. Nathan looked up sharply from his marking, trying to pin down the disturbance he sensed. #Amanda?# he sent worriedly, recognizing the scattered thoughts, but there was no
answer. Rising from his chair, he made another attempt to connect with her, but got only a scattered impression of a bright light, panicked voices, and... a face. LeBeau? Wincing as he remembered the staff post about how upsetting the head injury case was a bad thing, he shifted his focus, reaching out to find Madelyn's mind instead. He didn't sense physical pain from Amanda, at least...

#Madelyn,# he called sharply, brushing against her thoughts. #Problem with your patient, I think. Something's happened with LeBeau.#

#Oh crap,# Madelyn sent back, reacting automatically. Then she focussed, her mental 'voice' a little stilted and uncertain. #I'll be right there. Join me? I might need some back up.# As she 'spoke' she
was gathering her medical bag and heading out the door of her suite in her bare feet. #I swear, he's going to give me more gray hairs than the rest of this place put together...#

#Coming.# Concentrating on her presence and moving quickly, Nathan met her at the bottom of the west stairs leading up to the third floor. "Amanda was involved somehow," he said curtly as they headed up.
"She's upset. I don't think she's hurt, but what I sensed makes me think LeBeau needs checking on first."

"Oh, this is just getting better," Madelyn sighed. "Which part of 'don't stress out the head injured patient' did she not understand?" They reached the room that had been assigned to Remy, the door hanging
open. "Okay, definitely not good," Madelyn muttered, pushing the door wider open and looking inside. It was dark, so she reached around the edge of the doorway for the light switch.

The room looked like a disaster area, with the table upturned and papers scattered everywhere. There was a soaked section of carpet covered with the broken remains of a JD bottle, and the smell of the bourbon mixed heavily with that of ozone. Madelyn pushed past Nathan, spotting the legs beside the bed twitching and convulsing.

"Son of a--" Madelyn started, and dashed forward. The phone was off the hook and still lying beside LeBeau's head as his body thrashed. His eyes were rolled up, showing only the disconcerting black as his body shook. "

Nathan swore under his breath, following Madelyn over as she hurried to Remy's side. "What can I do to help?" he asked sharply, ready to follow her lead.

"Try and cushion him as much as you can - he's in a grand mal seizure, there's a good chance he'll break something if we don't stabilise him quickly. And try and stop him from biting his tongue." Madelyn had her
bag open and was searching through it for the muscle relaxant. And a tranquiliser of some sort, something major, and hope to God it didn't push him over the edge - his system had already taken enough drugging.
Finding what she needed, she grabbed a syringe and filled it, movements quick and sure. "All right, try and hold him still long enough for me to get this into him," she instructed.

Nathan bit his lip and knelt down on LeBeau's other side, very carefully extending his TK. He couldn't hold him still too forcibly, but he could cut down on his range of movement - and prevent him from
biting his tongue, at least.

Injecting something into someone having a major seizure was never easy, but at least Nathan was able to tip the scales in her favour - seeing a brief window of opportunity, Madelyn quickly gave Remy the
shot, then moved back, waiting for it to take effect. The charring on his shirt didn't go unnoticed, nor the state of the room. Things had definitely gotten supernatural here, and once she'd gotten Remy
stabilised, she was going to talk to a certain witch, upset or not.

"How long until that kicks in?" Nathan asked under his breath. He had taken in the state of the room as well, but he was too busy keeping LeBeau from thrashing around to pay much attention to details. Yet.

"A few minutes, maybe longer, considering his metabolism. As soon as he stops thrashing so much, I'll be able to get a tranquiliser in him and get him down to medlab. A seizure of this magnitude... it looks
like he's got himself some brain damage. Whether from what happened in St Louis or something tonight, I won't know until we do a full workup..." Madelyn lay her hand gently on Remy's shoulder as the convulsions eased slightly. "Looks like it's kicking in."

"I can help with getting him to medlab," Nathan said quietly. This was basic TK work, nothing that would trip the 'breaker'. He stared down at LeBeau for a long moment. Pete had been right. Too young to be
Gambit, surely...

"Thanks - he's a bit much for me to lift on my own, and Hank's not available. When we get down there, remind me to restrain him. If he relapses, that will keep him safe until I can get to him." Madelyn checked Remy's pulse, then gave him the tranquliser. "That should keep him quiet for a while. Damn, I knew I should have kept him in medlab - this never would have happened otherwise. What the hell was she thinking?"

Nathan looked up at her steadily. "We'll find out," he said calmly, even as he reached out to find Amanda's thoughts again. Still disorganized. Still panicked. He needed to help Madelyn get LeBeau
down to medlab and then go find her. "Tell me when you want me to lift. I can keep him flat, as if he were on a stretcher, or in whatever position you'd like him."

"Flat would be good, and as still as possible - God knows what damage the fit's done to the existing injuries." Checking Remy's vitals again, satisfied that he was as stable as he was going to get -
tremors still racked his too-thin frame, but they were a far cry from the convulsions of earlier - she nodded. "Now would be good."