X-Men Fan Fiction ❯ Blood is Thicker ❯ Chapter Five ( Chapter 5 )

Blood is Thicker

A X-Men Fanfiction

Written by RogueMoon and Nicole Wagner

Original Idea and collaboration by Nicole Wagner

Posted with Permission of Nicole Wagner

 

Chapter Five

::: :::

Nathaniel Essex-Milbury entered Remy's room quietly, an older woman holding the morning's meal following her employer. She found the older gentleman and his concern for his crippled son endearing. A pity that the handsome young man had suffered a stroke so early in his life. She had only begun working for the Essex household a week prior, but already was enamored of the two gentlemen.

Catherine Ramsay's family had a long, proud legacy of serving the well to do that owned estates on Osea Island. The Milbury home had been empty for years, but when its heir returned to live quietly with his son, the Ramsay's had stepped up to do their duty. Doctor Essex-Milbury had been thorough in his interview process, somewhat surprised when the Ramsay's had first presented themselves to the man for employment.

But they had convinced him they had a reputation and family legacy to uphold and within days Catherine was the sole housekeeper and nurse for Remy. A mutant. That had thrown her for a bit of a loop at first, and she instantly understood the Doctor's initial hesitation. Mutant or no, the Ramsay's would not be deterred. They were also well known for being discreet.

Remy spoke in mixed French, a beautiful accent that complimented his exotic eyes. She had quickly learned that he couldn't understand a thing she said. The effects of the stroke, the Doctor had told her with a deep sadness that permeated every word. The same thing that left most of his body paralyzed.

It was breakfast and Nathaniel helped his son sit up in bed so he could eat properly. Catherine smiled at him and greeted him with a cheery hello. He might not understand her words, but he could still understand a smile and a happy tone. Remy returned her greeting with a small smile that never reached his eyes, just as he did at every meal.

He turned his head back to his father as the tray was set over his lap. The doctor sat on the end of the bed, watching his son in return. Remy always took forever to eat. It was like he was challenging his father to force him to do so. Nathaniel was always patient, waiting until the last bite was finished before lifting his son and taking him to be bathed and to use the restroom.

That wasn't one of Catherine's duties. She was there to prepare the meals, keep the house tidy and be a companion to Remy - usually playing cards - when the Doctor had to work in the afternoons. The rest of the time Nathaniel would spend with Remy, take care of the ugly necessities of life.

It was a shame that Remy seemed to be such a pill about it. Glared at his father, refused to cooperate when the doctor tired to help him with physical therapy. But he had just suffered the stroke, so Catherine suspected he was still feeling a large amount of pity and despair. It would go away eventually, she was certain.

Remy was a nice boy. He always kissed her hand like a gentleman before she left for the day. A man like that would eventually get over his pain and work towards getting better.

::: :::

The Milbury house was not a happy one. Remy had become increasingly belligerent over the next week. Refusing to eat outright while his father was in the room, fighting the man whenever he attempted to help him with his bodily functions. The young man would speak exclusively in French and most of the words did not sound nice. Nathan remained silent through all of it, though at times Catherine got the feeling that he was talking to his son. It was just the way Remy would speak, as if he were holding a conversation, or an argument, with the man.

It was the middle of her third week working for the man that she came across the doctor in his study, holding a small music box in his hand. A glass of fine red wine sat next to his chair on a small table and he reclined in the leather, looking at the music box. Opening the lid and letting it play. Closing it and winding it back up before opening it again to hear the soft tune.

He seemed lost in his thoughts and she made to leave him be when his voice caught her ears, “Mrs. Ramsay, is there anyone in your family who is qualified as a live-in nurse?”

She turned back around and approached him, inclining her head with a smile, “My daughter, Elizabeth.”

He frowned, “Anyone else?”

She kept the anger at his terseness from her face as she answered, “My cousin, Johnathan and his wife Wendy are both licensed.”

“Are they available for hire?”

“I can speak with them and find out.”

He nodded, “Do so.”

“Might I ask why, sir?”

Nathaniel snapped the music box shut and lifted his glass to take a drink, swirling the liquid idly afterward, “Remy has made it more than clear that he does not desire my personal help in his recovery. Much as I find his stubbornness to be pointless, it is keeping him from trying to regain a normal life. And my son's comfort and recovery is of the utmost importance to me.”

She smiled and nodded, “I'll get in contact with them as soon as possible, Doctor.”

He nodded curtly and opened the music box, no longer paying attention to her. She removed herself from the room and resumed her daily chores.

::: :::

Remy was surprised when, at the start of his fourth week trapped in the English home, he was given a new caretaker. Catherine was still the cook and maid, but a man in his early thirties named Johnathan had replaced Sinister as the one caring for his bodily needs. Bathing him and helping him use the rest room, getting him in a wheelchair and taking him outside to sit on the beach and enjoy the view.

He still couldn't understand anything they said, the words just didn't make sense. But Johnathan had begun writing down what he was saying and reading it out loud while holding the words up for Remy to read. It was like learning a new language, only it was one he should have known already. Grew up knowing. He could speak to them well enough, they just had trouble getting through to him.

Sinister still visited him, usually in the mornings or after dinner, late at night. He would speak to Remy via the mind, inquire about his recovery, see how he was doing. What activities, if any, he had taken part in during the day. If Remy didn't know better, he'd actually think the man was concerned for him.

“I wan' ta see Jean-Luc,” Gambit told Sinister at the beginning of the fifth week of his 'recovery'.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, brown eyes meeting his son's as he replied telepathically, //Alright. When?//

Remy wasn't ready for that, had thought he'd have to fight to see his father. He wasn't even sure Jean-Luc would want to see him now. He began shivering like he always seemed to when he was nervous or upset or feeling any strong emotion, “Now?”

Sinister chuckled and shook his head, standing to wrap a quilt around Remy's shoulders, //I will contact him tonight and see about arranging for his arrival, should he agree to come.//

“Why wouldn't he?” Gambit asked back, wary.

//You tell me, Remy. You're the one worried that he might not want to.//

“Get out of my head.”

Sinister gave a sad smile and brushed Remy's hair away from his face before turning and leaving the room. Johnathan came in a minute later, smiling at his charge.

Gambit glared at him, “I want ta go to bed.”

::: :::

Remy was sitting in his wheelchair on the porch overlooking the beach. Jean-Luc had agreed to come see him, would be arriving today. The Ramsay's were asked to leave for most of the day, allowing Sinister to transport the Patriarch via his tesseract system. He felt happy, genuinely happy, for the first time in the months since returning from Antarctica. He was going to see his father, his father wanted to see him.

The portal appeared and Sinister stepped through, surprising Remy with his appearance. The Cajun had actually gotten so used to seeing the man look human that returning to what was probably his natural state caught Gambit off guard. Disappointed him for some reason.

His mind didn't dwell on the thought as his attention was caught by the sight of the man he was happy to call father stepping through the portal behind the devil. Sinister shifted his body to his human form and sat down at the table across from Remy, giving Jean-Luc the seat next to his foster child.

Remy grinned and held up his left arm, “Pere!”

The patriarch walked over and hugged his son, accepting the invitation and speaking in rapid French and English to the boy. Remy didn't understand any of it and looked at his father in confusion as he pulled away, gazing at him expectantly.

Remy smiled and moved his left arm to the table and the pad of paper there, “Whatever ya just said, pere, write down de core of it, si vous plait. I still be havin' trouble understandin' what people be sayin'.”
Jean-Luc's face fell and he sat down, giving his son a strange look, an expression Remy had trouble placing. Or perhaps didn't want to place as the man took up the pen and scratched at the paper. He didn't actually write anything as he turned to look at Remy, speaking again, his tone worried.

Remy laughed and shook his head, not liking what he saw but keeping it from his face, “I told ya, pere, ya need ta write down whatever it is ya be sayin'. I can' understand ya very well.”

Jean-Luc looked down and Remy's heart clenched. He knew that expression. Pity. He didn't want his father's pity. The patriarch of the Thieves Guild wrote a short message on the paper before turning to Sinister and saying something. Essex met Remy's eyes and held them as a tesseract appeared.

“Pere?” Remy knew his voice sounded desperate. He didn't care. “Pere? Where ya goin'? Ya just got here.”

Jean-Luc didn't look back at him as he left, the portal closing behind him. Essex kept his gaze on his son as Remy picked up the notepad.

'Good bye Remy, I'm sorry.'

The notepad flared brightly and Gambit tossed it toward the ocean with a scream of rage and utter despair. The explosion shook the house. Essex was holding him while he cried when the Ramsay's came to see if everything was all right, the loud boom scaring the entire island.

::: :::

Johnathan had no idea what had happened that day they found the two Milbury men on the porch, but whatever it was had set Remy into a seemingly permanent rage. It had been a week and a half since then and every day something would be blown up by the man. The Ramsay's learning the hard way exactly what kind of mutant the Doctor's son was.

The first day it had been his breakfast. The plate and all the food on it lighting up in a liurid pink glow while Remy's eyes blazed red. “Open de window,” he had said to them while holding the glowing food. Catherine obliged and as soon as she stepped away, the plate and everything on it was sailing outside only to explode with enough force to rattle the walls.

He had screamed at them then. Asking if they were afraid. Asking if they hated him. Telling them they should. Telling them to leave him alone. When his father came into the room he had fainted, falling unconscious into the bed.

The doctor had apologized for the outburst and said he would understand if they decided to seek out other employment. The Ramsay family was a proud one and would not be deterred by the actions of their charge. They would insist upon an increase in the amount they were being paid, but they most certainly wouldn't give up on their duties.

The doctor had agreed to their request without negotiation and the next day Johnathan and Catherine had brought breakfast up as if the prior incident had never happened. Remy blew up a pack of playing cards when they were offered for a game.

Each day he'd blown something else up, screamed at them and refused to cooperate. Most of the time the doctor ended up coming into the room and Remy would inevitably pass out. The general consensus among the Ramsay's was that the doctor was also a mutant who could somehow make his son black out. They also decided not to ever ask him about it.

So used to the tantrums that Remy had been throwing, Johnathan could only stare in shock as he entered the young man's room one sunny afternoon, lunch in his hands. Remy was at the table, in his wheelchair, juggling three pieces of fruit with his left hand. And smiling.

The young man caught his keeper's eye and his grin widened, “What do ya think, mon ami? Still got de touch apparently.”

Johnathan set the tray down on the table and then applauded before writing down his response. He held up the paper and read it out loud, “That is simply amazing, sir. Catherine and Wendy would love to see that.”

Remy laughed and caught the fruit, setting the pieces back on the table and pulling his lunch to him, “Hey, could ya do me a favor? I want ta write a letter. Need some nice paper and a good pen. Maybe one of dose nice calligraphy ones, si vous plait?”

Johnathan nodded and said yes. Remy seemed to recognize that word now and his smile widened as he enjoyed his meal.

Hours later, Johnathan returned with the paper, pen and an old fashioned ink well to dip it in. Remy spread the paper out on the table in front of him, then lifted his right arm up to act as a weight and hold the sheets in place. He picked up the pen and chewed on the end, seemingly contemplating what he should write.

Johnathan thought nothing of his actions until the tip of the pen was stabbed into the back of Remy's right hand. The man didn't even flinch, didn't seem to feel any pain as the blood bubbled up, as he pulled the pen, widening the cut.

Johnathan shouted for the doctor and grabbed Remy's left hand, trying to pull the pen from his grasp. His grip was much stronger than he had expected of the cripple. French curses flew around them as the doctor ran into the room, looking shocked at the sight of his son bleeding and fighting with the help.

Both of them suddenly froze and Johnathan saw something that he was sure would give him nightmares for the rest of his life. The doctor's body... changed. His skin paled to white, his eyes burned red and a glowing diamond blossomed on his forehead. His clothes shifted into a dark blue, almost black bodysuit that looked to be made of metal strips. A cape of dozens of red and black tassels grew out of his back to brush against the floor.

Johnathan felt his body lift into the air, move gently across the room. He was flying. He was scared senseless. The pen left Remy's hand and settled on the table. The monster that was once the doctor approached his son, hands clasped behind his back.

Johnathan passed out.

::: :::

End Chapter