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Nov. 16th, 2003

Going on what I have for my shaky Comicverse background history for Kate (i.e. Intro Fic take #6,558,937,000), I decided to start up a Movieverse one. *rolls eyes*

I'm never going to get a single one done if I keep on going "Nope, don't like this, START OVER!" I wish I could just write one story from start to finish. Even if it was a piece of crap at the end, it would at least have a beginning, middle, and end. [/self-rant]

Supposedly post-X2. Ignoring the whole "look at the right hand corner of a computer screen and you'll see Remy's name for 1.9 nanoseconds" bit and making him out to be a five-year-old boy.


Katlin Schapiero-LeBeau bolted awake in her Manhattan apartment at two in the morning. What had woken her up was the sound of screams coming from the room next to her. Hurriedly jamming her arms into the sleeves of her robe, she cursed as she stubbed her toe running out the door. Socks skidding on the wood floor, she stopped at her five-year old brother’s room. Jerking the door open, she hurried inside.

“Shh, it’s just a nightmare, it can’t hurt you,” she said, sitting down on the twin sized bed. Instantly, the boy’s thin arms wrapped around her waist and she felt warm tears soak into the thin silk of her robe. “Wanna tell me about it, Remy?” She smoothed the dark auburn curls out of her brother’s blood red eyes and wiped his face with a tissue from his bedside.

“The boxes,” he whispered. What he was describing was a nightmare she herself had been plagued with for years from events in her past. Kate closed her eyes tightly, cursing Remy’s ability to pick up on emotions around him. Last month his mutation started to go even more out of control, where he began picking up not only the emotions of anyone around him, but actual dreams too. It wasn’t the first time he had shared dreams with her either. She was just grateful that he had woken up before something else had exploded. The first time he had woken up screaming, his favorite teddy bear had blown up in a shower of magenta sparks and cotton stuffing in his hands. That was when their father Jean-Luc had asked Kate to take Remy away from New Orleans and away from people that would do him harm once his mutation had come out. The superstitious people of the city and surrounding bayous had already attributed Remy’s jet black sclera and red irises to either a miracle or a curse, it depended on who you asked. Adding his newly formed mutation in the mix and it was just dangerous for Remy to stay any longer.

Hugging her little brother to her side, she bent and kissed his forehead. “It’s okay, Rem. I’m here to protect you.” Soon his sniffling abated and he went back to a fitful sleep. Kate tucked the blanket closer to his chin and ran her fingers over the white stuffed rabbit Remy clenched in his arms. Quietly closing the door behind her, she ran a hand through her disheveled hair and leaned against the wall. This couldn’t continue. Remy was always worn out after episodes such as the one in his room and the little boy’s face had become ashen and strained. Once an active chatterbox, these few weeks had made him withdrawn and quiet, making him speak only when absolutely necessary. Kate missed her little brother, missed hearing his little voice pipe up and the charming Cajun accent filter through his slight lisp. She missed seeing him run and play.

Heading to her kitchenette, Kate poured herself a cup of coffee and slipped it into the microwave. There would be no more sleeping for her that night. She blamed herself for Remy’s nightmares, seeing that when she had bolted awake she was screaming herself from the dark boxes he had described. Rubbing her arms to ward off a chill, Kate leaned against the tile countertop. Her eyes roamed through the kitchen, settling on the crayon covered manila papers pinned to the refrigerator. On the sole portion of brushed steel Remy hadn’t decorated was a business card being held to the metal by a ladybug magnet. She had received it in the mail a few days ago along with a job offer and the offer to help her brother gain some control over his gifts. First she had been reluctant to call back, but as the nights wore on and Remy still woke up screaming, her resolve wavered and then vanished. Decision made, she padded over to the living room and flicked on the TV, letting the dim light coming from the box illuminate the room while she halfheartedly watched an infomercial and sipped her coffee.

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