I was awoken by a guard digging his meaty hand into my shoulder, shaking me roughly. "On your knees slave!" He ordered.

I blinked and rose slowly to my knees, wiping a red burning pain out of my eyes. I'd been crying in my sleep again. No doubt from bad dreams, but still I couldn't remember what I'd been dreaming. When my eyes had adjusted to the harsh daylight streaming through the window, I saw Remy standing a few feet away, arms crossed, the expression on his face solemn and stony. He waited for the guard to wake my brother. As Alex climbed to his knees beside me, he said, "You've been ordered not to speak to each ot'er, or touch each ot'er."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the look Remy gave me froze the words on my lips. "You've disobeyed," he continued. But he offered no proof. Either he had been able to feel the truth of his words through his empathy, or he was bluffing. It really didn't matter, I realized. Even if we hadn't whispered or reached out to each other for a few hours of stolen comfort, I had the impression Remy would have said we had and punished us anyway.

"Turn and face de bed," he said, his tone quiet but deadly. "Put your hands behind your back." I hesitated for just a moment and the guard stepped forward, spun me around by my shoulders, grabbed my arms and yanked them back behind me, nearly dislocating my left shoulder. My wrists were quickly shackled tightly together.

Then Remy ordered us to open our mouths. I wanted to scream. I wanted to fight against the restraints, against the collar chained to the bed, and the guard. But most of all I wanted to fight Remy, to curse him for all he'd done to me, for all he was about to do. I wanted to tell him how much I hated him, how much he'd never have my love. I wanted to taunt him, to tell him how Alex still hated him too, how he loved his brother more than he loved his master. And I wanted to goad him, drive in the thorn of his own sorry life, laugh at how he'd been abandoned, used on the streets of New Orleans, hated by most of the thieves in the Guild and never respected by the X-men. Even when he'd led them. But I couldn't. There was no point. I'd seen him suddenly produce the control box to my collar in his hand. He'd activate the collar as he always did and I'd be more vulnerable than ever. Tied once more to the end of the bed and whipped for certain. I couldn't live with that again. Certainly not with Alex nearby, watching the whole grisly scene. And I still didn't want to die.

The guard came up behind me again and thrust a ball gag between my teeth, nearly choking me with my own tongue from the force he used. Before I could spit it out, the gag was snapped securely behind my head. My nostrils flared as I tried to relax my breathing and ease the panic building in my throat. Turning my head in desperation, I searched for Remy through a haze of fear and anger. He had moved to stand on my right watching me coolly, his expression unreadable. "Face de bed, Scott, or I'll cover your eyes."

I bit down hard on the gag and turned back to face the post I was chained to. I could see the guard take up position in front of Remy, just slightly to my right side and back. In his hand was a riding crop. Seeing it, I almost kicked out at him. I'd felt the lash five days earlier. I wasn't ready for it again. But I had to wonder how he would dole out the punishment with my arms pulled together behind my back. I suppose it didn't matter. He could just lay into my arms with the crop. But then Remy said, "Splay your hands up."

It took a moment for this to sink in. Then it hit me. Like naughty children, Remy was going to have the palms of our hands lashed. I could feel the flush of anger and humiliation rise on my face. But I did as he ordered. I glanced at Alex to see him doing the same.

"You've disobeyed," Remy began. "You've spoken to each ot'er. And you've both touched MY property wit'out consent." I flinched. "For dat your hands will be punished to remind you in de future to keep dem to yourself. I don' have time to spend correcting you. I considered sending you to a trainer for further conditioning, but right now it's an inconvenience. So, for now, I'll make it easier for you to obey."

I almost let out a laugh at that. 'Make it easier.' Lord, he was unbelievable. I wondered how far his depths of cruelty and selfishness went. "Until tomorrow morning, you'll stay as you are. No food. No water. You'll be allowed to use de bathroom tonight. But only to piss. I don' want my carpet ruined. Tomorrow, if I feel you've been sufficiently remorseful, I'll release you. But while I'm here, whenever de guards are away, you'll be bound like dis to prevent you from de temptation to speak or touch each ot'er. Do you understand?"

I wasn't sure what to do. I looked to Alex for a moment and saw him nodding in answer. I followed his lead and Remy said, "D'accord. Ten cracks across bot' hands. Move dem and I add anot'er for each time dey move. Begin."

The guard moved to my right and drove the riding crop down against my palms. It stung unmercifully and I almost drew away. But at the last moment I steeled myself, shutting my eyes tightly, and bit down hard into the rubber ball gag, hoping it'd help to endure the pain. I did unconsciously, however, ball my hands up into fists. And the guard tapped the knuckles, barking at me to open them up. *He could do worse,* I thought hysterically. I was vulnerable in this cuffed and chained position, afraid that if the guard got rough and cropped me across the back or shoved me to the floor, I'd break a bone or tear a tendon. So I opened my hands and tried to prepare for the next blow.

The second strike didn't seem as severe as the first. Don't get me wrong. It stung harshly and I knew that after ten my hands and fingers would be raw and red. There'd be a good deal of swelling too. But the physical pain could be dealt with. The emotional pain would be worse. I was furious without a doubt. Yet still there was this terrible lingering sense that I was getting exactly what I deserved.

Again and again the crop came down on both hands. At least I was able to keep the breath in my body. My lungs weren't grasping for air. But my hands were on fire. And at the count of ten, when I sighed in relief that it was finished, the guard cracked the crop down once again. At this I curled my hands into fists on purpose and shook my head.

"Anot'er den, added to de ot'ers dat are still left. Open your hands, Scott, or you'll receive an additional one." My mind whirled with pain and helpless rage. It was useless to fight. Ten lashes for each hand was really twenty across them both. Unfair. So brutally, viciously unfair. I opened my hands. And eleven more lashes fell. I felt a trickle of warmth at the end. The guard had broken skin, and the blood was oozing down between my fingers. As he moved away from me to start on Alex, I clenched my hands into fists, stopping the flow by pressure. It was agony. But I knew that if I didn't move my hands, the pain would be worse later on. Some contracting of the muscles would stiffen the skin and it'd be impossible to move them for the pain.

And I didn't believe Remy would allow our hands to be treated with the salve that had been used to ease our bruises and welts before. I slumped forward as the guard took position next to my brother, and rested my head against the post. Tears burned in my eyes, but I refused to let them flow freely. I refused to show Remy any contrition.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Alex's face contorting with pain. He made no sound, at first. And he kept his face turned slightly away from me as if he didn't want to acknowledge my being there next to him. I'd never seen him punished before and it tore at my heart to hear the whistle of the crop and snap of leather against my brother's flesh. If I'd thought the blows to my own hands were bad, I soon discovered listening to the whip striking across my brother's hands was much worse. With each hiss, each moan let out despite his hard pressed lips trying to hold them back, I flinched.

By the fifth strike, I couldn't hold back the tears. How much more would we have to endure? Alex had said this wouldn't last. But I was doubting his words more with every crack of the lash. Remy was furious. He was cruel and hateful. I couldn't begin to see his motive for this ordeal. I couldn't fathom what was going on behind those scarlet eyes. And it hurt me more than I cared to admit. I swore to myself once again that I'd get out of here. Somehow, some way I'd escape.

Finally, Alex's punishment was over. I saw him drop his head in utter defeat and I choked back a sob. Remy stepped up between us and patted our heads. "Dere, dere. You'll learn, mon cheres. And den we can be a happy family again." One final pat and he was gone.