NOTE : in this story you will see a reference to memory ribbons. I give all credit to Valerie Jones here and her story Betrayal which gave me the idea to use a memory ribbon. Valerie if you're reading i hope you don't mind!!
Remy only twitched slightly as his mind was entered, then he lay still. To Ororo, it looked as though he had fallen asleep. She put down the toy she was playing with and walked over to Remy. She took his hand and held it, sitting beside him.
Jean and The Professor slipped as unobtrusively as possible into Remy's mind. He had shields surrounding his mind, and they probed gently to see if they could get past.
*Amazing, Jean. These walls are unlike anything I've ever seen. When you press against them, they resist, but not in the way our own shields would. Remy's shields are like a mirror, reflecting our probes. Our own shields are like walls, stiff and unyielding. No wonder Remy is hard to trace telepathically; anything we send out to find him is sent back to us.*
*I wonder why his shields are this way though, Professor. Was he born with this ability, or did his mind just learn on its own? But how could his mind have learned...unless it came into contact with something that would make it want to shield itself? Most children Remy's age, even non- mutant adults, have no shields simply because they have never needed them.*
*It is a fascinating question. Perhaps we will find out if we get past these shields. Try calling out to him, see if he will come out to us,* the Professor suggested.
*Remy?* Jean called out softly.
There was a flicker in the shield.
*Try again, Jean. I think he responded.*
*Remy? Will you come out to me?* Jean asked.
Again the shield flickered, and this time a portal opened in the shield. Standing in the portal was Remy, or at least the astral version of Remy. He was dressed in clothes that had seen much better days, and they hung off his thin frame like sacks. His face was smudged with dirt, and his hair hung in rat tails. It had obviously not been washed or combed in a long time.
*Remy, do you know who I am?* Jean asked him.
Remy nodded, *Oui*
*Will you let us come in?* The Professor asked.
Remy nodded again and stood back, allowing them entry to his mind.
Together Jean and the Professor stepped forward into the portal. Immediately, the landscape changed. The wall behind them disappeared from view. Remy had also disappeared. Before them flowed a long ribbon.
*Remy's memories* the Professor said, identifying them.
*Look there, though, Professor. That part looks damaged, fraying at the edges,* Jean pointed out.
*Let us investigate closer.*
They moved towards the damaged part of the memory ribbon. When they reached it, they both touched the ribbon and were transported into the memory itself.
They were on a street. It was dark and cold.
*It must be winter here,* Jean said to the Professor.
They saw a small boy hunched, shivering in an alley.
*It's Remy* Jean said. *But he only looks a few years younger than he does now. Is this where he started living on the streets?*
*That may be the case. He looks to be still well fed. I wonder why he left his home.*
They became silent and watched as a man approached Remy. The man was old, and had a kind expression, although it was obvious that he too was a street dweller.
"Hey, boy," the man said.
Remy was startled and looked up quickly.
"Whatcha doin' out here by yo'self? Don' you know it dangerous to be out 'ere on de streets? Where your parents, chile?" the man asked.
Tears formed in Remy's eyes. "My parents are gone. I don't have anywhere to go."
The old man sat down beside Remy, "Well, you sure can' stay here, chile. It's cold, and dere are dangerous people who'd jus' love to get dere filt'y hands on a sweet chile like you. You come wit' ole Jacques, and he take care o' you, d'accord?"
"What does that mean?" Remy asked wide-eyed.
Jacques laughed, "It mean okay? Okay?"
Remy smiled hesitantly, "D'accord."
The two wandered off together.
*That man seemed nice enough* Jean said.
*It appears that someone took pity on Remy and took him under his wing,* the Professor replied.
*Did you notice that Remy didn't have a Cajun accent?*
*Hmmmm. Interesting.*
The landscape changed once again. This time it was a different part of town. It also felt warmer.
They saw a young boy weaving in and out of the crowds. His red hair marked him out. Jean and the Professor followed, and saw him leave the crowd and wander into an alley. At the end of the alley stood the old man they had seen earlier.
"Jacques. I got some more money dis time. We go and get some o' dat warm gumbo from Tante Maria's, non?"
"Dat's right, Remy. Come on. You a growing boy-chile; you need plen'y of food in your stomach."
The pair moved towards the entrance of the alley. They were stopped by the appearance of a gang of vicious-looking young men.
"What you want, Pierre?" Jacques called out, pushing Remy behind him.
"Why only dat sweet l'il boy you got dere, Jacques. Not fair o' you to keep him all to yo'self. He fetch a nice price down on de streets, non? I even cut you in on some of de profit," Pierre said, grinning.
The other youths with him laughed.
"Non, Remy not for de likes o' you. You leave him al one."
"Or what, ole man? What you gon' do 'bout it?"
The youths laughed again and followed closely as Pierre started moving up the alley towards Jacques and Remy.
Jacques began to back away, Remy still behind him.
"No where fo' you to go, old man. Jus' hand de chile over and you won' get hurt, non?"
"You not take de boy, Pierre. He a good kid."
Jacques stopped; he could back away no further. He watched warily as the youths continued to approach. They had now gotten close, and the gang spread out in a semi circle formation, effectively cutting them off.
Jacques saw that he had no choice. He grabbed Remy from behind and moved him towards Pierre. Pierre smiled, expecting Jacques to hand over the boy. He was unprepared when Jacques pushed him out of the way and shoved Remy past him.
"Run, Boy!" Jacques called.
He had no chance to say more. One of the youths slit his throat. Another of the teens chased after Remy. Remy had almost reached the freedom of the end of the alley when he looked back and saw Jacques' murder. He faltered, and the youth caught him. He struggled viciously, trying frantically to free himself.
The youth that had caught him carried him back to Pierre.
"Now, boy. Time to meet your new master."
"Non!" Remy screamed.
"Let's see if you worth de effort I made to get you, chile."
Hands grabbed at Remy, tearing at his clothes, pushing him down. He twisted, kicked, bit, and tried to scream but was gagged. He felt the weight of many hands holding him down, and his mind rebelled.
A psychic scream blasted through the minds of the men holding Remy captive. They died instantly. Remy lay unconscious on the ground.
*My God! Professor, they almost...* Jean could not finish the sentence.
*I know, Jean. I understand now why he fears people touching him. Something like that would scar him mentally for life. But we must move on. We have still not found Sinister in Remy's memories. Perhaps the Nanny failed to regress Remy fully and he has retained adult memories. If that is the case then we need to move forward in time.*
Jean was still trying to get over the shock of what she had just seen, but she agreed with the Professor. It was in Remy's best interests to find out what was causing him to have nightmares.
*Remy?* she called.
She was startled when Remy stepped out of the shadows. He had been with them all along.
*Remy, take us to Sinister please,* she said to him.
She saw the look of fear on his face, but he nodded anyway.
The landscape changed once more. This time they were in a lab and Sinister was there. It was an older version of Sinister's lab but to either side were his test subjects in their cubicles. Sinister approached one of the cells.
"Remy!" he shouted. A figure stirred in the corner of the room. "Go and fetch your father."
The figure moved into the light and made for the doorway.
"Yes, Uncle."
Jean exclaimed in shock *Remy's uncle?*
The Professor was also shocked. *Jean, Remy was still a boy here.*
End of Part Fifteen