Once again, Remy found himself standing in front of the mirror in his entryway. Slowly lifting his hands, he spread them flat on the cool surface of the mirror. **All my life I been a reflection. I look in someones eyes, an' I see myself. I look in a mirror, an' I see myself. Always in two-dimensions. Now I can' see de reflections no more, so who am I? What you got left to give to de world, homme?** There was no self-pity in the question, just an honest question.

Remy wondered when he'd lost his emotions. Did it begin with Sinister? Or when Rogue had turned away? Or was it overload from watching Dakota die? Maybe it was his willingly giving away his last friend. He didn't know. All he did know was that he felt hollow. Dakota had told him not to quit caring about people. But who were people?

He'd looked into Storm's eyes, and seen a reflection of a hero. So he'd become one. He'd looked into Rogue's eyes, and seen…his future. He thought he'd had a shot at making that future possible. Dieu, how he hated the future. That reflection had shattered into a million pieces. There would be no reconstructing it. The shards had cut to ribbons all the reflections he'd been. **Who are you, homme?**

His hands shifted to the edges of the mirror, and lifted it down from the wall. **I won' be a reflection for anybody, not ever again.**

So, how do you go about becoming real? You can't make yourself real, as the Velveteen Rabbit knew all too well. Someone had to do it for you. **But if you can' make yourself real, how you ever gonna be more dan a reflection?**

**Find what defines you.** That's what Dakota would say. **You are a real person, you just need to believe it.** Belief. He considered the concept with a detachment he wished he could have found years ago.

**What defines Remy LeBeau?** he asked himself.

**Pride.** He knew that ninety percent of all his actions stemmed from pride. Not letting others see his hurts, staying away from the X-Men, even consenting to the surgeries he'd recently undergone. **Is dat all I got left?**

**Love.** No. Love had made him vulnerable in ways he could never allow again. There would be no love defining this new person. He'd tolerate liking, he might allow himself worry about someone, it's possible he'd even care in some small way, but in no way would he leave himself so open to destruction again.

Dakota would tell him to keep trying. To connect to people would make the effort worth it, but to him it was like learning not to touch a hot stove. At some point, multiple attempts were no longer hopeful, they were stupid. Remy was not going to be a stupid person.

**What do I wan' to be?** An X-Man. The answer came from out of the blue, and so quickly he knew it had been lurking, waiting for a chance to surge to the forefront. And this after he'd just finished telling himself he didn't want to be a stupid person.

And there were so many valid reasons it simply wasn't possible. He was blind. Although the surgery had given him back the use of his hands, the famed dexterity was gone. And last, and most importantly, there was no way on Le Bon Dieu's earth he'd allow himself within fifty miles of Rogue again. **Who don' you trust, homme?** A question whispered from the back of his mind, that he firmly refused to answer.

Okay, that was enough of that. Now, what did he want to be? **Rogue's.** Another too quick answer. He told himself that it was only habit. There was no way he'd be so incredibly asinine as to go down that road again.

He'd been watching the world go by for years. It was what he did best, it seemed. And hadn't Bishop told him that was who he was? The Witness. **How appropos.** Remy was amused at the irony. A blind Witness? How delightfully poetic. After all, even Justice is blind.

So, is that all that was left for him to be? More to the point, is The Witness who he wanted to be? **Well, why not? I can always change who I decide to be, neh? It's my choice. I decide what I will or won' do. Nobody gonna make me t'ink followin' what dey wan' me to do is gonna get me somethin'. Not even me.**

**So. You t'ink you can be someone new jus' like dat. D'accord. Now, if dis is what you gonna do, best figure out how.**

**Say goodbye to de past.** There was no way he could be someone new if he allowed memories to stay. The memories belong to the old person, not the new.

**Say goodbye to Remy LeBeau.** Something in his mind stirred at that, but he refused to listen. The stirring refused to quiet. It generated disturbance until he was forced to think it through. Why did it bother him to become someone new? It's what he wanted to be. A definite twinge there.

His resolve faltered briefly. **Am I lyin' to myself?** No. If he was lying to himself, he'd be wide open to …everything. There were too many emotions in his past. Now he was content. He didn't feel anything. His shields protected him from the feelings of others, the emotions of the world had finally left him alone, and he liked it. No more emotional buffeting, no more uncertainties, no more being weak. Being alone was a good thing. It was trying to be part of a group that had caused all his problems in the past. This time he'd do it right.

Solitary. That would be his new name. No more Gambit, no more Remy LeBeau, and especially no more memories.