Prologue

Remy would never tell anyone, this secret would go with him to the grave. He
was grateful that Rogue never got those memories from him when she kissed him,
he wouldn’t bare to know that she knew. Not even his precious Stormy had a clue
about what really happened when he ’worked’ for Mister Sinister. At the trial,
they only found out that he had led the Marauders to the Morlock tunnels, which
led to the Massacre.
He shivered in the Antarctic cold as he blew hot breath onto his numb hands.

Remy LeBeau had gone to Sinister because he needed help with his powers; they
were out of control. He couldn’t touch anything without making it explode, he
couldn’t pay attention to a person without making him or her feel his emotions,
as he felt theirs. Sinister had promised he could take the powers down on a
level that Remy could handle, all he requested in return was Remy’s cooperation
in a couple of tests. He’d never said what kind of ’tests’, though, and Remy
had been too desperate to ask.
So Remy had thereby become Sinister’s favourite lab rat.
Not to mention when Sinister had gathered the Marauders for his next big task…
Sabretooth had been the first Marauder, and the sick bastard had found a
perverted pleasure in violating Remy. Sinister didn’t mind as long as
Sabretooth didn’t kill the kid.
After two more months of hell, Sinister finally promised Remy his freedom if
he would lead the Marauders into some tunnels. Remy had accepted, hell, he
would have sold his soul to the devil to get his beloved freedom back. Or maybe
that’s just what he had done?
What he didn’t know was that Sabretooth got to do what he wanted with him, but
luckily he got out of the bastard’s reach.

So Remy had fled the Massacre, saved a girl from being slaughtered, met up
with Storm, joined the X-Men, fell for Rogue, and had been left in the middle
of nowhere by his friends, his family.
If he could have cried he probably would - his tear channels seemed to have
frozen - nothing in his life had hurt more than their betrayal to him.
Absolutely nothing. Not the johns when he was a homeless kid, not being
banished from New Orleans… Not even anything Sinister and Sabretooth had ever
done to him hurt this much.
He felt weak. God knows how long he had been here. He had walked around for as
long as he could, trying to keep warm, to find food… Then he had to sit down to
rest from the weakness he started to feel, and he couldn’t find the strength to
go up and continue looking for help. There was no point. He would die. Cold and
alone.
He closed his eyes and started to give in to the darkness, when he noticed
something. He willed himself to open his eyes, but regretted it immidiately.
”Non…”