[U]Remmy[/u]

Remmy just sat there. His body slumped in the window seat, feinting sleep, and body jerked when the worn tire passed over each road bump. Bright eyes closed and lost in deep thought, arms crossed over in a familiar while he leaned against the window’s cold glass. In the back ground his ears caught the dull dribble from the jolly pair beside him which was the only thing to make him realize he wasn’t alone. Their words, gestures and rather pleasant mood didn’t wash over the usually cheerful and sociable Cajun. At that moment he drifted between the disgusted thoughts about the would be slaves in back and prior events, mentally summed where Remmy’s choices had went wrong or to be more accurate, no longer benefited his mission. 

He felt his anxiety grow a bit at the future ass chewing he would receive from Kurtis, the old man in a little huff over his little detour and the fact he had carelessly tossed away the Sentinel’s months long efforts in a span of a few words. Namely just a phrase but it worked, and then his mind glazed over the Slaver group he had been running with for some time and their reaction to his sudden change of heart. Remmy wasn’t surprised to find it was Hayden who was left a little dumbfound and disappointed. The old farm boy looked a bit grudgingly at Remmy for his choice yet knew anything said wouldn’t have changed the Cajun’s mind, merely made wished him good luck. Paul merely grumbled about being forced to make his own breakfast from now on and didn’t concern himself with his send off. Silva, on the other hand, had seemed rather relieved he was leaving. His little warning about Simon had rattled her more than he expected. 

When he finally left, he had tossed away the efforts and sacrifices of many Sentinels. Any lives loss to retrieve the information or pain lived through was now pointless. His selfishness had wasted months just to cling to the idea for redemption. Even after all that Remmy was certain he would’ve made the same choice, his consequences been damned and the rest could go to hell. So now he rode here within a truck full of slobs, a slave cage hauled in back and worst of all, he could feel his foot filled with sleep’s pins and needles. For a moment Remmy had started to realize he missed his bayou home back in Florida only to hear the light thud. He jumped then, his eyes snapped behind in time to see a bloodied hand pressed against the glass and leave it’s tell signs. Panic stopped his heart, thoughts turned to Simon in back.

Jerked upright, he snapped his fingers for the other two’s attention then gasped. “Somethin’s wrong, stop!” 

It took all his will not to just jump out and haul his ass to the back, his hand grasped over the Winchester on his exit. His hand opened the door seconds after the truck stopped and slammed it shut behind him, his figure already the first to head to the back followed by the other two. It had been too long since the pair had chatted. Conversation’s absence had its affect, the Cajun became a little antisocial and gloomy these past weeks, the difference well noted. Only tolerated due to his ability to make a decent meal the pair could quickly scarf down. 

Quickly his boots brought Remmy closer to the back, his gun held ready and finger edged lightly over the trigger. The sight of blood made the three jittery. Blood meant a lot of things in this world, not a single one of them good or helpful as many had found out. When Simon fell to his knees begging to be killed, Remmy’s heart had seemed to shatter right then and there. A sad flicker entered his eyes that soon became a quicker action. The keys jingled, taken from Remmy’s dirty jeans, to reach out and unlocked the cage. His other hand pulled the iron bars wide while he felt the familiar sensation of guns pointed at his back. 

The man’s mind lingered over the trigger fingers state didn’t help relax the Cajun, his eyes likely betrayed it to the pitiful man’s form in front of him. Finally, his guilt and fear swallowed down, he exclaimed loudly, "Y'know the rules? Few miles on your feet should remind you.” 
 
This punishment was cruel but an excuse for him. A chance to give Simon hope and a reason to live, to help when he otherwise had his hands tied. They only had to make it to Chico alive then the Sentinels within the Haven could take it from there. If the man died before then, Remmy would never forgive himself as he hauled the pitiful shadow of Simon to his feet then leashed him to the truck. When other two slavers went back to the front, the engine roared to life and moved, caused the chain to taunt and tug the man along. Each time Simon stumbled or tripped Remmy’s stronger hands came out to hoist him upright again, ensured he wasn’t dragged along. A small, apologetic smile had secretly reached Remmy’s boyish face to ease the ill situation. 

Soon he came around to working some humanity and hope back into the skeleton figure before him. It felt more one sided with each attempt, first subject shifted to Simon’s friends and then at last a topic the Cajun really missed: sex. 

“Tell me again about your ladyfriend, Wendy,” Remmy purposely mispronounced Winifred’s name in hopes to catch Simon’s attention, his eyebrow raised in curiosity and taken a moment to glance ahead. He almost laughed aloud at the man’s gentle sigh, noted the spark of life in the hollow shell, and correction at his error. Remmy’s grin widened at his little secret, about to talk farther on the subject before something caught his attention. His body tensed when the truck stopped, his hand reached out to gently touch Simon’s shoulder. The pair stopped in their tracks and prevented the fragile man from toppling into the ground, Remmy’s eyes drifted to the low rumble from what seemed to be trouble. [I]Shit[/i] he mentally cursed at spotted the Blackhawk, overheard the man read off what he knew. 

That’s when Simon chose now to collapse. Concern and surprised, Remmy set his weapon down and took a knee to look the man over for answers. His hands settled upon the skeleton of man’s frame while listened to the slight gasps then tried to draw his own conclusion between Simon’s reaction and the sudden appearance of the Blackhawk. It couldn’t be an odd fact that the man choose now to give out, was it? He didn’t think so, his arm pulled the weaker man’s around his and hauled them both upright once more. Remmy half walked and half dragged his friend to prop him against the truck wheel then asked the oblivious questions on his mind. 

“Simon…Simon,” His hands cupped the man’s jaw to lift his wearied eyes to meet his fearful ones, his words desperate to reach him. His fingers edged to tighten a bit at any lacking answer from the man or even signs he was fading too fast, “Are you alright? Do you know that Blackhawk? Answer me, don’t just fuckin’ give up brah.” 

However before any answer could come, something coming towards them caused Remmy’s head to jerk up from a shout. Drawn by the alarm, he said one last thing to Simon, “Don’t you dare fuckin’ pass out on and die on me. You know, brah, your ladyfriend, Winni, won’t forgive ya if you did.”

With that Remmy moved away from Simon and stood, his Winchester ready, beside another slaver. The man in mute silence merely pointed his finger towards the rather large group heading towards them. In moment of realization, all the Cajun could think was that they were going to get their asses kicked… big time.