Part Eighteen
written by Soar and most expertly edited by Jeanne Kalvar
email ksg3@le.ac.uk
Jean and the Professor slid back into their own bodies. They saw Ororo sitting with Remy, holding his hand. Remy had not awakened. Ororo turned to the two adults.
"What is wrong with him? Why won't he wake up?" she asked.
"It's okay," Jean said. "He's just asleep. We'll let him sleep here, and I'll stay with him until he wakes up. Is that alright?"
Ororo bit her lip but nodded.
"Ororo," the Professor asked, "Would you like to come with me? I have some more plants that need to be taken care of for my friend. Will you help me?"
Ororo smiled, "Yes, Professor. Where in the garden are they though?"
The Professor laughed. "They are not outside. They in my friends loft."
"What is a loft?" Ororo asked with child-like innocence.
"It is a room underneath the roof. Come and I will show you." The Professor took Ororo with him, nodding to Jean before leaving the room.
Jean sat quietly, stroking Remy's hair as he slept. When he finally began to stir, she sat back, waiting for him to become aware of his surroundings.
His eyes opened slowly and the first thing he said was, "Mama?" in a hopeful tone.
Jean swallowed back tears. "I'm sorry, Remy. Your Mama isn't here."
Tears flooded Remy's eyes, and she held him as he cried softly. When he had finished he pulled himself away and looked up at her.
"I 'member Jean. I 'member ev'rytin'"
After admitting to her that he remembered, Remy had refused to talk about his memories. So Jean had taken him up to the Professor and Ororo. He had seemed himself, albeit a bit quieter, but that was to be expected really. She decided that the children needed something new to do, and she thought for the first time about their lack of clothes.
"Right, you two, come on. We're going into town, and we're going to get you some new clothes," Jean said, smiling.
The children seemed excited enough about going out, and she bundled them into one of the cars at the mansion before setting off into town. It wasn't until they were a few miles down the road that disaster struck.
The Nanny had been waiting impatiently for this chance, and she was not going to screw it up. Not when He would be the one to hand out the punishment. She had decided to use the same trick that she had used to catch the children in the first place.
Jean saw the old lady by the car, and being the kind soul that she was, pulled over to offer assistance. She was not aware, until it was too late, of the dart that struck her shoulder; she was already unconscious when she hit the ground.
Jean opened her eyes slowly. She was in a transport of some kind. A door opened behind her, and light flooded into the small cabin where she and the children lay. Jean tried to engage her powers, but they were being blocked by something. Jean realised then that the weight she could feel around her neck was a Genoshan collar. She looked over at the children, but they were both unconscious. A shadow covered the opening and she saw the Nanny. A thought coalesced in Jean's mind. "I wonder why she didn't transform me too?" But she did not get an answer.
The Nanny stared at her before motioning her to get up. Jean rose slowly to her feet and moved towards the entrance. She thought about trying to over power the Nanny, but decided against that course of action when she saw the weapon pointed at her. So she simply moved out of the transport and up against the wall.
Another door opened and Jean's worst fears were realised. Vertigo and Harpoon came out. They moved over to the transport. Harpoon moved inside, and came back out with the children in each arm. Vertigo motioned for Jean to follow her, and so they all moved to the other door -- Vertigo first, followed by Jean, then Harpoon and the children, and the Nanny bringing up the rear.
Vertigo led them through a series of corridors that, to Jean, all looked the same. "No chance of memorizing the route, then," she thought to herself. They finally came upon two large doors. Vertigo placed her hand over a panel, and the doors opened with a hiss.
They all entered the heart of Sinister's domain. Sinister himself was sitting on a large throne-like chair in the centre of the room. He grinned wickedly as the small entourage entered.
"Welcome, Phoenix, to my humble abode. Ah Nanny, I see you have brought the children. You have fulfilled your end of the deal. Scalphunter?" Sinister called, and a figure detached itself from the shadows, "Go and give Nanny her reward."
Scalphunter grinned, "This way, please."
The two went off through another door.
Sinister turned his attention back to his guests. "Please take a seat, Mrs Summers. I would hate for one of my guests to accuse me of not being hospitable." Vertigo pushed Jean towards a chair that was placed on the floor near Sinister's own chair.
"Why have you taken us, Sinister?" Jean asked.
Sinister laughed. "You my dear Mrs Summers, are free to go. It was only young Remy that I wanted. You may take the windrider with you."
"I'm not leaving without both children. In fact, I want them returned to their normal state before I take them," Jean demanded with a false tone of bravado.
Sinister laughed again. "I'm afraid I can't do that. You see I've waited a long time for this. My plans have..." Sinister was interrupted by the sound of the children stirring.
Remy heard voices coming from a distance. Gradually they got closer, and seemed very familiar. The first thing he realised was that someone was holding him. They were not arms he was familiar with and he struggled blindly, trying to free himself. Horrors recently remembered still imprinted on his mind.
"Put them down," Sinister told Harpoon.
Harpoon did as he was told and Remy's struggling stopped. Jean tried to go to Remy, but Vertigo held her back. Remy's eyes opened, and he looked around him, his eyes finally settling on the person sitting on the throne-like chair. A smile of child-like joy crossed his face and he scrambled to his feet before running into the open arms of Sinister.
"Oncle Nat'an'el," he cried and hugged Sinister in his small arms.
end of part 17
Part Eighteen