Remy's mind was slowly being pulled out of his land of sleep by a loud noise. He kept trying to ignore it and fall further into the soft darkness that covered his sleepy mind. The noise seemed to stopped momentarily, letting him catch a few more minutes of rest. As soon as he fell into the quiet blackness of his mind it began again. Remy turned over in the bed and opened his eyes, quickly regretting it. His head instantly punished him. Between the noise and his head pounding he thought he was going to pass out.

He reached over to what he finally recognized as a phone and raised it to his ear. "Hello?" He cringed at the weakness of his voice. His throat was dry and burned when he attempted to use it.

"This is your 11 o'clock wake up call. Check out time is at noon."

Remy's eyes flew open and widened when he didn't recognize the room. The bed he laid in was not his. He tried to think back over the night before. How did he get here? Who brought him here? He finally realized the woman on the line was waiting for an answer. She probably thought he had fallen asleep while holding the phone. "Where am I?" he croaked into the phone, not thinking how ridiculous it must sound.

"You are at the Ramada East, sir."

"Um, ok, merci." Remy hung up the phone. He didn't even know where the Ramada East was. He sat in the bed and cursed the pounding headache he had. It was making it very hard to think. He looked around the room for any signs of who brought him here. Then he remembered Jarod. They had meet at Breakers, and he had passed out suddenly. Did he bring him here? Where was he, if he did? Remy panicked. He ripped back the covers and found he still had his pants and socks on. He didn't feel like anything happened, but he couldn't be sure, his whole body felt numb.

His stomach violently turned and he jumped out of bed to run to the bathroom. He reached out to the nightstand when he found it hard to stand. His legs were wobbly and his head spun worse then ever now that he was moving around. His need to vomit overruled his weakness and he ran to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before his knees collapsed out from under him.

He threw up for what seemed like an hour, but looking at the clock as he made his way slowly into the bedroom again, only a few minutes had passed. He now felt weaker then ever, he was shivering, and goosebumps covered his trembling body. He didn't know how he got here, or who brought him here, but he didn't feel up to doing much clue searching right now. All he wanted was to get out of here.

He put on his shirt that he had found on the floor at the foot of the bed. His boots lay close by. His back pocket still held his wallet, his keys still in the side. He had a feeling his bike wasn't here, but at least his keys were still on him. Whoever brought him here didn't do it to rob him, they must have wanted something else. He shivered at the thought. He had been through rough sex before, and he certainly felt it the next morning. He didn't feel sore now, not like that anyway. He just felt weak as a kitten and the only soreness was his muscles that screamed at every little movement. He picked up everything he claimed as his and left the hotel room.

Once he entered the empty elevator he laid his head against the back wall and closed his eyes. Why did these things always happen to him? If he would have just stayed home and brooded like he normally did this would have never happened. He was quickly brought out of his thoughts when the elevator jerked to a halt, causing his stomach to lurch again. The doors opened and Remy swiftly leaned over the ashtray can in the corner of the hall. He thanked the gods above for letting the hall be empty at that moment. He road out the dry heaves and slowly stood straight, using the wall as support, feeling even more shaky then before. He grabbed a cloth napkin that lay across an empty room service tray. He wiped his mouth and face and threw it back on the tray.

He finally made his way out to the sidewalk outside the hotel. He hoped the person who brought him here paid the bill, because he sure as hell wasn't going to. He hailed a cab and waited for one to stop. He slid into the back seat and shivered as the air conditioning hit him. He sighed as the old man driving noticed and turned the air off and rolled down his window. This was obviously a really nice guy, or he looked that bad. He bet it was a little bit of both.

The driver gave him a worried glance in the rear-view mirror. The man looked really pale and was shivering. "Ya ok back there? Ya need a doctor?"

Remy winced, he must look really bad. "Non, just need to get home. 1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center."

"I know where that is, it'll take me a bit to get there though. Looks like ya could use the rest if ya wanna lay down. I promise I'll take ya straight there." The driver gave the man a friendly smile, he was really worried. The last thing he wanted was the kid getting sick in his cab or worse. Hopefully if he slept he could avoid that.

Remy weakly nodded as he slurred what he meant to be "Merci" but he didn't think it came out that way. He laid his head down on the cold vinyl seat and quickly feel asleep.


The driver buzzed the visitor box at the front gates. He tried to wake up the kid in the back with no affect. After waiting several minutes a voice came over the intercom.

"May I help you?"

"Yea, I have a kid in the back here that said to drop him off at this address. I don't know what's wrong with him, but he is passed out in the back." The taxi driver looked up at the mechanical noise above his head. He saw a small camera swivel, then he heard a mumbled curse over the intercom.

"Yes, he belongs here. He is probably just drunk. He lives in the boathouse at the end of the road by the lake. If you cannot wake him, there is another intercom by the cabin door. Call and I will come assist you."

The driver got back in the car as the gates opened. He followed the narrow drive to the cabin, far out of sight of the main road. One to know how unstable drunks are he parked as close to the front door as possible. He first tried to wake the young man up by yelling into the back seat. It only got him a few moans and small movements. He shook his head and got out of the car and opened the side door. "Come on kid, your home."

He reached down and shook the passenger's shoulder lightly. He smiled as the man finally opened his eyes slightly. "You're home. Time to sleep in your bed, not my cab."

Remy weakly sat up. He felt so cold and tired. It took everything he had not to lay back down and curl up on the seat again. He reached a shaky hand into his back pocket and paid the man what he owed and a large tip. He didn't want to fool with change at this point. He just wanted to sleep. He pulled himself out of the car and held himself up by the cab door, he wasn't sure he would be able to stand without it.

The driver saw the boy was way too shaky to be walking. He had seen his share of drunks, but this was the first to look this bad. He usually made a point not to get too involved with customers, but there was something that told him this one wasn't going to make it in the house if he didn't help. "Here kid, I'll help ya to the door. Your on your own after that."

"Merci." Remy whispered as he leaned heavily on the older man. He felt his eyes drifting shut, he fought to keep them open. If he were to pass out here he would most likely be left on the deck.

The driver leaned him against the wall by the door and turned to leave. He had gotten the kid to the door, that was enough. He heard keys hit the wood decking and cursed as he turned back around to see the young man fighting to bend down and pick up the keys he had dropped. He rushed over when the boy almost toppled over. "Let me get it. Which key is it?" He waited for the shaky finger to point at the key to the door. He opened the door and then pulled the kid inside. Seeing the large couch, he figured that would do. "Hope the couch is ok, cause that's as far as I'm going."

He sat his passenger on the couch and watched as he quickly laid down, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch over him, the whole time his eyes were closed. It was like watching a sleepwalker. Feeling his duty as a cab driver had been fulfilled to the maximum he left, locking and closing the door behind him. He stopped on the deck and eyed the intercom. Maybe he should inform that man who let him in how sick the kid was. He decided against it. The man didn't seem to friendly towards his passenger, maybe it was best not to start an argument. He stepped back into his cab and left the way he came in.


Logan tapped his foot waiting for someone to answer. He was so sick of playing phone tag with everyone. He leaves for a few days and everyone disappears, or at least forgets how to use a damn phone. On the verge of hanging up he heard someone finally pick up. He heard Bobby's greeting again and growled. Why couldn't he get someone useful like 'Ro or Slim. They at least knew what was going on around the mansion. "Bobby shut up."

"You again?" Bobby cheerfully joked over the phone.

"Yea, ha ha. Just calling to let everyone know I'm on the way back now. Should be there in about four hours."

"Good, Scott will maybe stop his whining then. He has been driving us nuts with this mission of his. He was mad he had to change the plan cause you left." Bobby wrapped the phone cord around his finger as he sat on the counter.

"Well he can stop his bitchin' cause I'll be there soon. By the way, Icecube, did ya give Gumbo my message? I tried to call him last night but I got the answering machine." Logan wasn't going to mention the million other times he tried to call.

"I tried, but he left before I gave it to him. He was out partying all night. Some cabbie brought him home passed out in the back of his taxi a few hours ago. Scott is so pissed!" Bobby laughed remembering the look on Scott's face when the cab driver buzzed in. He had never seen Slim so close to exploding.

"He was actually passed out?" Logan thoughts were a mix of anger and worry. Angry that the Cajun playboy didn't even bother talking to him before going out on the hunt again. Worried that Remy was actually passed out. He had done his share of drinking with the Cajun and not once has he ever seen Remy close to passing out. He had seen him far past tipsy, but never close to out cold.

"Yep, the cabbie even had to help him into the boathouse! It was a riot. You'll have to see the tape, the cameras recorded it." Bobby cursed as his com badge beeped in his pocket. "Damn it, well I have to go, Scott's calling. I will tell him you are on your way."

"Thanks kid." Logan broke contact and found himself pushing the plane to go faster. The worry had overtaken the anger. Something in his gut told him something was wrong. He always listened to his gut.


Remy was pulled from his sleep from a familiar noise. He shivered uncontrollably as he reached for the phone. He fumbled the receiver in his shaky hands before finally getting it to his ear and mouth. "Hello?" He barely heard himself say the word. He doubted the person on the other line heard it.

"Gambit, I need you in the War Room now! I have been paging your com badge for twenty minutes now! I want you down here in fifteen minutes!"

Remy cleared his aching throat the best he could. He still felt cold and weak. He didn't want to leave the cocoon he had created on the couch. He just wanted to sleep. "Scott I'm really not feeling up to this right now, mon ami. I'm really sick."

"You should have thought about that before you went out drinking...."

Remy didn't want to hear the rest of the lecture, he dropped the phone on the floor and forced himself to sit up. The room began to spin violently. He closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands, taking deep breathes in an attempt to calm his stomach. He slowly pushed himself up off the couch. He was glad he had taken the downstairs bedroom the second time around. There was no way he was making it up any stairs.

He staggered into the adjoined bathroom and fought the urge to empty his stomach again. He was pretty sure there was nothing left in it anyway. He struggled as he pulled off his clothing. He stumbled into the shower stall and sat on the corner seat as the hot water beat down on his cold skin. It stung, but he was too tired to adjust the temperature. Cleaning himself off as well as he could he finished up and slowly stepped out, instantly cursing the cold air.

Knowing there was no way he could go on any mission right now he decided against his uniform. The body armor would be too much of a chore for him to get on right now. He put on a pair of comfortable sweats and slipped on some sneakers, not bothering to tie them. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a deck of cards and dropped them into one of Logan's old flannel shirt before slipping it on. He defiantly wasn't going to be making any fashion statements with this getup, but at this point he didn't care.

He stumbled out the front door and cringed at the long walk ahead of him. What was normally a short distance for his long legs now seemed like miles. He took a deep breath and set out towards the mansion on wobbly legs.


Scott cursed as he slammed the phone down. It had been forty five minutes since he called the Cajun and he still wasn't here, or answering his phone. He was about to page Gambit's com badge again when the door opened. "It is about time you decided to show up! I said fifteen minutes, not an hour!" Scott cut his lecture short when he saw the pale, trembling, Cajun walk in the door. He glanced over to Hank to see the doctor was also taking in Remy's sickly appearance.

Remy leaned against the door frame for a moment. One of many breaks he had taken on the way to the War Room. He was so cold he could feel his teeth chattering. Walking was becoming more of a chore the further he went. He had no idea how he was going to make it back to the boathouse after this was over. The distance seemed impossible. Hell, the distance from the door to Scott seemed impossible right now.

He pulled at his remaining strength and made his way to the long conference table where Scott had various maps and blueprints scattered about. He leaned all his weight on the table with one hand and hugged his stomach with the other. He grasped at Logan's flannel, trying to keep the little warmth he had created inside the thick shirt.

Scott looked worriedly at Remy's condition. He began to feel bad about assuming Remy was drunk and not sick. It was obvious there was more then alcohol at work here. "Gambit are you alright?"

"I told y' I was sick Cyke. Can we get this over with so I can go back to sleep."

Scott noticed Remy's eyes drifting closed and signalled Hank over. The doctor quickly began making his way across the room. He had noticed Remy's weak appearance and was waiting for Scott to call him to Remy's aid. Before he made it to the Cajun's side his eyes drifted closed and seemed to stay that way.

Scott sprinted around the table and caught Remy as he fell to the floor. "Gambit! Remy!"

Hank took Remy's pulse and was startled at how slow it was. "Give him here! His pulse is too slow!" Hank pulled the limp body from Scott and ran to the Medlab.