Author: Kyrri

Author's E-mail: kyrrissean@hotmail.com

Rating: PG-13

Series: The King of Heats

Summary: Remy searches for the light to kill the darkness in his
soul.

Disclaimer: I'm not getting any money for writing this. I don't own
the character however much I would like to – so please don't sue! (It
would be silly of you to sue me anyway, seeing as all I have could
probably fit into one not so large cardboard box.)

Warnings: Contains slash, male/male pairings. (Even if its only
implied and will come to the forefront more clearly in later
chapters) If you find this offensive don't read it! Hit the Back-
button! Or the Cancel-button – as it is. Also – I'm sorry if the
characters appear OOC – I tried to keep to what I know of them, but
if I didn't manage… sorry!

Archive: Ask and you shall receive.

Notes & Thanx: Firstly: Thanx to Fanfiction Addict for beta-reading!
I really can't thank you enough! You definitely deserve it for taking
me, my grammar, spelling and general confusion on! Secondly: I seem
to be getting rather fond of using the play of light as a metaphor –
so please endure with me! Also if you think I don't have enough of a
definite separation between Remy's dream and reality – it was done on
purpose – so don't complain! (I wonder if I'm telling you that or
simply trying to convince myself…) Anyway – hope you enjoy the fourth
part of `The King of Hearts' and feedback will be greatly appreciated!
 

*************
 

Nothingness, oppressing soul-stealing nothingness holds me in its
sway. Darkness surrounds me, encompasses and engulfs me, forcing my
consciousness into a tiny pinprick of flame in its very center and
all the time the voices call to me.

Shouting, screaming, crying out my name mixed with words of ghastly
wickedness, choking my being – suffocating me with their very
intensity. Trapping me there, binding me and tying me down with
chains that no thief could ever hope to escape. Forcing me to live
this half-life… caught within a flame.

Forcing me to my knees as they tear away my very sanity, clawing and
ripping – rending me helpless and bleeding upon the floor of this
miserable void.

No light ever penetrates this place – only the darkness and the
voices. Always the voices – screaming in rage and terror and the soft
pitter-patter of bare feet… running, forever racing away from the
inevitable till they too are silenced with a bloodcurdling scream.
Involuntarily my hands rise to my face, cupping my cheeks between
them as I realize the cry is my own. My own horror and pain reflected
in the high-pitched horrid melody as the scream rises and falls upon
the air – ripping the thin fabric of dark reality to shreds.

A strangled sob escapes me, torn away by the eerie melody of a myriad
of voices lifted in screeching, painful song. I want to cry out – to
shout – to let my voice mingle once again with the others… to silence
them with my own horror.

But I can't – silence escapes me as I take one gasping breath after
the other, my nails scratching down my cheeks, leaving fiery marks in
their wake as the oily darkness rushed down my throat. I can't move,
I can't cry out – I can do nothing and the voices berate me for it,
whispering their cruel words in my ears, making the trails of fire
across my cheeks burn more hotly as they remind me of what I have
done. They'll never let me forget!

"I didn't know – I tried – I didn't know!" I repeat to myself,
seeking to find the truth in my silent litany, seeking to find escape
from the voices that are burning their way into my mind – consuming
me from the inside out.

How desperately I want to escape them, need to escape them – if only
for a little while. I want to make them go away, but the fact remains
that I cannot – they will haunt me forever in this darkened void.
They will always be there reminding me of my failure – I should have
tried harder – I should have saved them – it's all my fault.

It's all my fault – the thought echoes back at me, as if across a
great distance. Everything is my fault, but I had tried to make it
better – I had tried to fight back. I'd managed to save the child,
even if she was only one among many. The only one I had not failed –
my only ray of light.

But in this place that light cannot reach me – will not reach me…
refused to stretch across the darkness as I bury myself in guilt and
self-loathing.

I shiver as the arctic wind surrounds me, raising goose bumps on my
flesh and making my breath freeze upon the air before me. I can't see
it. The darkness blinds me, steals my sight, but I know it's there. I
can feel the ice as though it is touching me – tracing icy patterns
across my skin. I can feel it and it seems to burn with some
facsimile of life, it seems almost malicious in its imitation.

Death – I can feel it as I take one searing breath after the other –
the darkness only serving to make it seem even colder as I pull
myself into a small ball and curl up upon this merciless plane of
thought. The voices still singing to me – telling me that I have no
right to life, telling me that they will welcome me to them soon.
Soon there will be nothing left…

The wind chills me to the bone as it plays with my hair, caressing it
with something akin to joy – welcoming me to an eternity of icy
whiteness whilst my eyes can see only darkening night. Welcoming me
to the end of my journey, for surely I would soon join the phantom
voices in their dance with the zephyr. And then it would all cease to
exist… I'd be free.

Gray… between black and white you find gray… nothing simply crisp or
clear – no route that's perfectly right or wrong. No `yes' or `no' –
just gray and turmoil. What to do… what to want… what do I deserve?

Night or day? Neither can be considered the right answer, but this…

I fight against the raging cold, trying to shut the voices out,
trying desperately to warm my aching bones – I don't want it to end
like this! I want to live, to cast aside their justice. Guilty… I
know my shame well and they have judged me for my crimes, abandoning
me to the frozen wastes. She left me here. They all left me in the
end.

"Come back," I plead. "Please, don't go. Don't leave me here." But
there is no one to hear the words that are torn from my parched
throat even the voices have left me now. Rogue has left me here to
die. They have all left me."

I'm falling now – spinning away into unconsciousness – the cold
winning this final battle, as I lay shattered upon the icy darkness.
As my thoughts shred the final piece of hope in my soul into a
million fragments and scatters it upon the arctic wind. "I love you."

But there is no force behind my words, they had been true once, now
they only sound empty, hollow to my ears and echoing dimly with
something I will never have.

I don't have the energy to fight anymore. I'm tired and alone. Alone
in the darkness.

I raise my eyes to what I think is the horizon, but nothing
distinguished it form the rest and I cannot be sure. Names, faces,
snatches of sentences surrounds me and the laughter. When had it
started? I didn't know anymore. It resonated through the air, impious
in its clarity and hatred, recalling her face to my mind. She is
laughing at me, her eyes sparkling with amusement at my suffering, as
I look up at her in silence.

The world expands, changes, twists and turns and I fall forward, my
senses wrapped in vicious laughter until everything comes to an
immediate stop and I am jerked awake.

I force myself to take deep, slow breaths. And, remembering the
burning pain as I raked them with my nails, I gingerly lift my
fingers towards my cheeks, brushing over them softly. It had just
been a dream. There were no fiery trails scorching their way down my
cheeks. But even as I tell myself that the pain of the scratched
marks across my cheeks, had merely been part of the nightmare, I find
it hard to believe that I am awake now and that this isn't just more
cunning imagery spun by the dream to keep me firmly in its embrace.

Briefly I close my eyes and take another breath. Even my subconscious
would not spin this lie. My mind would not imagine the thin trail of
sunlight shining from beneath the blinds, nor would it think to bring
me to the mansion when it had the slopes of Antarctica to work with
for inspiration. A single shiver runs down my spine at the thought –
I can imagine far worse things than waking up at the mansion and the
truth of that is the only thing that makes me realize that I am truly
awake.

Grimly, I peal the sheets away from my body and swing my legs out of
bed, groaning as the movement makes my temples throb violently. The
room starts spinning, and I silently curse under my breath. This was
just lovely.

Ignoring the rapid twirling of all my material possessions I push
myself unsteadily to my feet and take a step towards the bathroom. I
groan as the world mocks my attempts to set it aright by spinning
more chaotically and come to a stop, lifting my hands to my face and
closing my eyes against the assault of frenzied colour. This was
simply no good – I had to reach that bathroom so that I could wake up
enough to go downstairs.

Cautiously, I open my eyes again and let them trail over my
surroundings. The door to the bathroom stands open invitingly less
than four feet away. Now if only I could cross that distance without
having to watch the circular dance of all the inanimate objects in
the room.

I let my gaze fall to the floor and grimace. My dirty laundry spread
out across the carpet and the broken glass from the mirror I had
shattered scattered laying between the fine material. How could I
have allowed it to go this far? But my lack of energy answers the
question for me – I do not have the will to fight anymore, I don't
even have the will to keep my room in good order.

I slowly lift my head and focus on the bathroom door once more.
Things have gotten out of hand indeed but it does not matter. I will
be leaving this place soon – there is nothing to hold me here, after
all. The mansion is no longer my home.

I move into the bathroom, open the faucet and splash water onto my
face. This place is just an empty shell – the hope I had felt upon
the first day of coming here with Stormy having fled. The hope of
being accepted broken and laying in dismal disarray – much like my
room at the moment.

The reflection in the mirror calls my gaze upwards as I search out
the eyes of my mirror image – as I search for the strangely dancing
coals and find instead only the dead bleakness of black ash. Whoever
said that ones eyes are the windows to ones soul must have been
smarter than he was given credit for – the eyes that stare back at me
now reflect every tumultuous fall into depression I have suffered
since Antarctica. Every shred of guilt and self-loathing displayed
for all to see in the desolation of the once fiery gaze.

I swallow convulsively, trying to get rid of the bitter taste in my
mouth – I did not like what I saw. I have the urge to shatter this
mirror as I had done with the one in my room, but I stop myself,
clenching my fist tightly – I have enough bad luck to deal with as it
is.

Resolutely, I turn my back on the mirror, refusing to dwell on what I
have
just seen reflected there and I strip and climb into the shower. I
rest my
forehead against cool tiles as the warm water cascades down my back.

I open my eyes again, studying the tiles until a glimmering light
just at the edge of my vision draws my attention. I turn my head to
the side to better study it and catch my breath at the rainbow of
colour presented by the glistening spray – water like tiny teardrops
against the tiles reflecting the thin streak of sunlight that
penetrates the barrier of the blinds.

I study the thin trail of dancing light, letting the living colour
seep into my aching soul as the darkness surrounded me. I had never
bothered to turn on a light, my eyes being sharp enough to see in the
shadowy room. I stand there staring, not even noticing when the water
starts to turn cold as I exhaust the hot-water supply.

But this thin ray valiantly keeping night at bay wasn't enough – it
wasn't enough to pull me from my depression. Even in waking the
nightmare would not leave me, reminding me of my second exile, my
punishment – there was no shining light to help me from the dark maze
of my misery – no matter how bright this glistening sun-streak. I was
trapped and would remain so – my light – my hope had fled.

And so it was that I climbed out of the shower with a heavy heart,
moving like a sleepwalker as I dried myself off and got dressed
before exiting my room. I just had the presence of mind to grab my
sunglasses off the bedside table before I stepped into the blinding
glare of the hallway, slipping them on to guard my sensitive eyes.

The corridor stretched before me, somehow oppressing – the light of
day serving only to remind me of what I had lost – serving only to
bring visions to my mind of dancing rainbows and an ever-present
looming shadow that encased even that small phantom whisper of hope
in darkening night.

I didn't even notice as I descended the stairs – didn't take in
anything of my surroundings – my mind focused solely on the darkness
within my soul. Dazedly I made my way to the kitchen until my mind
was suddenly filled with apprehension.

The sent of cigar smoke hung thickly in the air, coming from the
kitchen –
wafting through the door as I stood on the threshold, frozen – unable
to move.

I fought the urge to turn around – I had to face him sooner or later.
But what would he think of me after last night? Would he hate me like
all the others?
Hate me as I hated myself? I closed my eyes – I didn't think I would
be able to bear it if Logan joined that list.

But from somewhere in my mind a memory drifts to the surface. Of a
tight embrace, of gentle fingers running soothingly up and down my
back, caressing my muscles and forcing them to relax, of a whispered
promise that meant more than anything ever could. "No, Remy, I could
never hate you, never!"

My lips curve into a small smile – the very act of smiling seeming
strange because of its recent infrequency. Logan wouldn't hate me for
last night's display of weakness in front of the rec room. He
wouldn't – he had said so and I trusted him. I was surprised at the
thought, but the smile deepened as I realized that it was true. I
trusted him.

The sun glittered off my sunglasses, sending reflected rainbows
dancing against the wall.

Maybe, just maybe…
 
 

TBC