Title: "Rooftops"
Author: Mac O'Roni
Disclaimer: Hey, I can't afford to purchase copyrights from Marvel!
Why? Because I damn sure ain't makin' any money off'a dese t'ings! :P

Rooftops

A sequel to "Flashback"
 

Remy hadn't thought of that day in years. Hadn't wanted to, for
obvious reasons. There were worse monsters hiding in the dark
oubliette of his memory, but this was the worst of the oldest. The
worst because he knew in his heart that he'd killed the artist, and
whether he'd intended to or not, whether he'd deserved it or not,
that doomed his soul to hell for all eternity. He'd killed other men
since, and even women and children if you counted…what Sinister had
made him do down in the Morlock tunnels, but that filthy, pathetic
old man was the first.

In the many years since that day, he had tried over and again to
regain that dissociated state. It was horrible but it was wonderful,
because it put him above pain and feeling. He had achieved it only
once more in his life, and that time had been an accident, too. That
had been after he betrayed Sinister in the tunnels, when Sabretooth—

But that, he refused to think about.

There hadn't been many times since then, though, that he had felt the
desire to separate mind from body. It hadn't been long after his
escape that he met Ororo Munroe, and from there his life had seemed
to turn around. He was a misfit here with the X-Men, a black sheep,
and he knew it—always had. But still, it was funny—this was the one
place in the world he ever felt he might actually belong.

But he had wanted to feel that splitting of self in Antarctica. Even
in the eye of his memory he could feel the bone-shattering cold of
that dead place, and although he knew now better than ever that he
had real friends here at the X mansion, he felt again the blown-open
loneliness and bitter hurt of his betrayal.

But he could not, for all of his splendid self-control, voluntarily
set himself in that long-craved state of being. But, in his quest to
find it, he had discovered a great joy of life.

Rooftops.

It was perhaps a pale imitation of that ultimate freedom, but it was
freedom nonetheless, and that was something he craved more than good
sex or good food or good music. Being high above the filthy, noisy
streets of the cities he stormed through like a Cajun hurricane put
him in a near-blissful state of peace that he didn't feel anywhere
else. And the higher the better—there was no ledge too narrow or too
high off the pavement for him.

The roofs of the Xavier mansion were disappointing in that regard,
but since they overlooked only well-manicured lawns, a toy woods, and
a quiet lake, they didn't need to be very high to be peaceful.

He lay back. Although the sun had set, the shingles still retained
much of the heat of the day and were warm against his back through
the fabric of his T-shirt. He looked up at the stars shining cold
and distant in the night sky and pictured himself among them, equally
cold and distant. Untouchable. As always before, his imagining was
of no use. He was still very firmly rooted to himself.

But no matter. He didn't really feel the need to run away from this
place. So one more dark secret of his past had been revealed. He
found that it simply didn't bother him. Let them think it did, if it
made them feel better.

His full lips curved into a slight grin. "You can feel bad if it
makes you feel better," he quoted. "Picture me cryin', readin' all
y'love letters." His music tastes were eclectic, and he often found
himself with some song or other stuck in his head from some chance
reference that brought them to mind. This one was "You can Feel Bad
(If it Makes you Feel Better)" by Patty Loveless. Appropriate name,
he thought, considering the subject of the song. A real pick-`em-up-
an'-kick-`em-out country song about a girl telling off her boyfriend
when he breaks up with her.

According to Beast, Remy's peripheral vision was extremely acute and
his field of vision abnormally wide. He caught a quick flash of
movement now at the lower corner of his sight and he sat up,
breathing in the night and picturing himself a part of it, invisible.

It was Logan, climbing out of his own bedroom window and tearing off
through the woods. He didn't do that very often anymore, and Remy
thought he might be the cause of this night's foray. He wondered
again at what could have caused the Canadian to be so upset by the
news. Still, if he was an enigma, Logan was a puzzle with many
pieces missing, and he decided not to ponder what were likely
unanswerable questions anymore. He lay back down, and turned his
eyes to the stars.

---------
Mac O'Roni

"After all dis time--an' I still manage to impress myself."

-Gambit, Uncanny X-Men #334
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