Who: Candy and Remy What: Comforting Candy When: After this text. Where: Their apartment. Rating: PG13, talk of domestic violence, innuendo. Status: Complete!
She’d woken up alone. She knew that Remy was likely just in the room that he used as his office, but her dreams had left her disoriented, retching, groping in the dark. Her father had somehow gotten his hands on Wolfswinkel’s hats, woven them into a coat, and was torturing her. She remembered blinding pain up her arms and over her chest.
But it had just been a dream. Candy repeated that over and over as she went into the bathroom to pour herself a glass of water. A glass of water she promptly dropped when she got a good look in the mirror at herself. Lashes of angry white scar tissue adorned her, up and down her arms and over her clavicle. She sobbed a little, went to the phone and picked it up to send Remy a message. She couldn’t speak.
Remy had just gone down the street to the store, but he came back immediately when Candy called. His dreams weren’t fun, but hers were terrifying at the best of moments. He felt impotent as all hell when they happened; he wanted to protect her, but all he could do was hold her after the fact.
Still, he’d do his best. He got in the door, setting his stuff in the kitchen and starting to look in each room. “Candy? Where you at, cherie?”
“Bedroom.” She was still sitting in the dark, running her fingers up the scars and chuckling to herself. That was probably unsettling, but she couldn’t stop.
He didn’t like the laughing, that was for damn sure. Remy came in and saw her sitting. He didn’t say anything, just making sure his footsteps were audible. He came over and sat down next to her. She’d eventually want to talk. “You want that hug?” was all he said.
Wrapping her arms around him, she snuggled close. “Sorry. Just ... this dream hit close to home. I’d forgotten they get bad sometimes.”
“You wanna talk about it?” If not, it was no skin off his nose; he just wanted to hold her. There were times he hadn’t wanted to talk about his own dreams. It had been a while before he told her about Magneto and Antarctica.
“Turn the light on?” She bit her lower lip hard, running her fingers through her hair. “It’s easier to explain if you can see.”
Remy nodded, obediently rising and flipping the switch. When he did, he was able to see her shoulders and arms from where he was standing, and his blood ran cold. He saw thin white lines. “Who did ‘at?” His tone was calm, but if they were in this reality, they wouldn’t be for long.
She closed her eyes. “My father. He found a magic item after the great flood, and he ... saw me while I was dream walking.” She moved the straps of her tank top, biting her lip. “Do they go all the way around?”
Motherfucker. “Yeah.” Remy’s voice was toneless. People would think he did this or something, but that wasn’t why he was pissed.
She smiled ruefully, without mirth. “He was trying to kill me. He failed at that, too.” Her father wasn’t good at much but drinking, in real life and the dreams. “You look as mad as me,” she murmured. That, she hadn’t counted on.
“Goddamn right.” Remy came back over to her, taking her hand and squeezing it. She’d hug him if she wanted to. “I’s gonna marry you. You’s my woman.” Hopefully she understood that he didn’t mean in the possessive way. He’d sworn to look out for her, and she for him. He couldn’t help but feel like he was failing in that mission.
“You can’t protect me from the dreams,” she murmured quietly. “I know you want to, but you can’t. But you can be here when I wake up.” That was what really mattered to her anyway.
“Can’t stand you lookin’ so scared.” Remy knew this woman; she wasn’t scared of much. “Makes me want to kill him. But you’d slap me for gettin’ the first shot.” Hopefully he’d make her smile a little. It scared him when she looked hopeless; he didn’t know how to give her hope. He could give her a lot, but not that.
She did smile at that, pulling him closer to her. “You don’t think I’m ugly now?”
“Ain’t skin or scars that makes one ugly.” He kissed her forehead. If he believed that being ugly was so simple, he’d think he was the ugliest thing on the planet. Between the eyes and the scars and the calluses.
She nodded. “It’s funny. Even in the dreams, I just pity him. He hates me so much, and I’ve done nothing to him. All the reasons he hates himself are just his fault. He just thinks it’s easier because I’m weak. Well. He thinks I am.” Candy stood up, moving toward the bathroom to look at her scars better.
"No way you weak, here or there." Remy followed her, but didn't touch her. Not yet.
“I know that, and you know that, but he’s an idiot.” She stripped out of her shirt, marvelling at the curly-q scars that were over her clavicle and onto her shoulders, the way they spiked downward toward her wrists. They were beautiful, in a way. They reminded her of the sea.
Candy smiled a little. “Is it weird to feel homesick for where you go in your dreams?”
Remy didn't quite know what to say to that. "Don' know," he finally said. "I don't miss mine. And you ain't there." He hoped that didn't sound clingy; it was just true.
“I wish I could go there with you.” She smiled sheepishly. “You’d be the thing about here I’d miss.”
“Yeah?” Remy settled down next to her, leaning against the wall. “Tell me more about ‘em?” If she wanted to. If not, he’d definitely understand.
“Well, you know how I do magic. The world itself is filled with it. It’s a series of islands, twenty-five of them. One for each hour of the day, and one for all of time. There was this princess, and she was going to unite the daytime and nighttime hours. But she died too soon, so they put her soul into me.” Candy sounded a bit happy, then she went to her nightstand drawer to hand Remy a book.
“This is Klepp’s Almenak. It came from my dreams, it shows you all of the Hours.”
Remy smiled a little, taking the book and opening it. A lot of it didn’t make sense to him, but it clearly made sense to Candy. “This is the Abarat?” he said, trying to remember what she’d told him. “The world?”
She nodded, leaning against him. “It tells you about every Hour. You know, for travelling.” She pointed at the large map on the first two pages. “I spent a lot of time here, at eight o’clock.”
“Autland?”
“The Yebba Dim Day. The Great Head.” Candy smiled, pointing to a drawing of a large head. “It’s where most of the fishing commerce is centralized.”
“Oh, I get you.” Remy squinted; it was sort of hard to read. He did laugh, though. “That sure does look like a head, it’s true. Isn’t that where you landed, if I recall?” She’d told him some things.
Candy nodded. She had good memories there. “I just want to take you to see all of this.” She felt much better about her scars, and she kissed his shoulder. “Sorry I freaked out on you.”
“S’okay.” Remy wrapped an arm around her, even if she was just in her bra. “I’d have been scared too, p’tite. Honestly, makes me want to give you my name a little sooner.” He grinned a little.
“You just can’t wait until I sound like a stripper.” Candy wrapped her arms around his waist, nuzzling closer and smiling. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“You wanna hyphenate?” Remy stuck his tongue out, grinning.
“Quackenbush-LeBeau? Are you kidding?” She tiptoed up, kissing his tongue playfully. “You’re silly.”
“Well, I was kidding.” Remy eeped when she kissed his tongue. “Goofball.” He pulled her close; she seemed to be doing better, so he risked touching her.
Wrapping her arms around him, she let her forehead rest on his chest. “Love you, Bright Eyes.” She looked up at him. “So much.”
“I love you too, Candy.” Remy said simply. “Don’t you worry about the scars, oui? I promise you, it don’t change anything.”
“I won’t. I just ... it was one of those dreams that was too real, and I woke up, and thought I was still there. I’m glad you’re here.” She kissed the lean lines of his chest.
“Trust me, I been there.” Remy said soberly. “I told you about being lost and alone in Antarctica.” Where his own team had left him to die.
“You’re never going there. You’re staying here, and so am I.” Candy kissed him gently.
Remy smiled, eyes closed. “Well, we could go back to the bedroom?” He said it as a joke - if she said no, he of course wouldn’t push. He just wanted to distract her, and to make her feel loved.
She nodded. “Yeah, let’s do that.” He could point out where her new scars were and she wouldn’t care a bit. He loved her, and that was what mattered.