Fic: Trials Unending (4-6/22)
Title: Trials Unending
Author: Faceted Mind
Summary: After his return from Antarctica, Remy's trials are far from over.
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http://logan-remy.50megs.com/slash_stories_2.htm
Warnings: Slash, mention of child abuse and rape. Occasional medical/pseudoscientific info-blasts which despite researching may or may not be accurate; forgive me anyone who reads and shakes their heads in annoyance, I am no medic. Oh, and a little British spelling, which I'm sure you can forgive me for.
Notes: This is AU for how Remy gets back to the Mansion and in what state. No glowy green ladies here. A variety of Betas have worked on this fic; Cruel Illusion, Ross and "Point me at the coffee" as far as I remember, but I have done work on it since so all mistakes are my own. This was written in 2005/6, so I blame my youth for all rose-tinted-ness, the sequel (2008/9) is more cynical, jaded and tortuous. I've obviously hit my writing's teen-aged years.
Pairing: Future Logan/Remy, but not just yet ;)
Master Post . Chapters 1-3 . Chapters 4-6 . Chapters 7-9 . Chapters 10-12 . Chapters 13-15 . Chapters 16-18 . Chapters 19-22 . An End In Sight
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Chapter 4
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"So… Blue knows how to fix this, right?"
Having pulled away the dark glasses, he was crouched in front of Remy, looking deep into familiar-looking devil-eyes to the disturbing sense that there was no one looking back out. Remy was trying to hide his own discomfort by meeting Logan's gaze. Unfortunately he was missing by a good three inches… above his head.
"He t'inks dey get better on deir own."
"Are ya seeing… like shadows or anythin'? Or is it…"
"Black. S'all black mon ami."
"'M sure Hank knows what he's talkin' about. Probably just need ta give it some time." Logan pressed the sunglasses back into Remy's hand, and watched him slide them back on uncomfortably - fighting with his uncooperative hands. He moved so that he was sat alongside him, back pressed up against the wall. The scents of fear and panic were slowly seeping out of the room, and they were both relaxing. "How the hell did ya manage ta escape Hank in this state?" He wondered, half to himself.
"He leaves me 'lone mos' of th' time. Pretty much got m' own treatmen' down pat. He jus' makes sure 'm eatin' righ' and t' change…" He waved the bandaged hand in the air. "this."
"Why ain't that hand healed up as well as the other?"
"Infection." Remy made a face. "Henri bin talkin' about skin grafts. T'ink it might not look so good beneat' all dis."
"And ya managed ta get yerself out of the lab and inta the kitchen with a coffee and a ciggie?" Remy snorted.
"Not Master T'ief fo' not'in', y'know."
"How?"
"Know th' mansion like th' back a' m' hand. 'Leas' what it used t' look like." He smirked. "Could walk it blindfold. So I did. Someone already made th' coffee, an' I had a packet stashed in th' kitchen."
"Why did coming out here spook ya so badly, if ya haven't minded bein' on ya own?"
"Don' know dis place. Wouldn' be able t' find m' way back t' th' mansion. Don' know if I'd even be able t' find th' door. Don' like t' be helpless, Logan. Makes me real…"
"Panicked?" A sigh of resignation.
"Yeah." Logan shuffled a little closer, so that their arms were touching.
"It's all right to be freaked out by this, Remy. This is a scary time, but you're gonna come out the other side stronger for it." Behind the glasses that made the world no darker than it had originally been, Remy blinked slowly, and tried to re-gather his muddled thoughts as an inkling of something not quite right reached him.
"'K, Logan. Y' need t' take m' back t' th' mansion now." He said cagily, suddenly worried.
"I'm not takin' ya back until I'm sure ya shields are back in place."
"I can' do dat wit' you dere. Need y' away from me."
"So I'll…" No, can't leave him alone again, don't leave him alone again! "Pull it together, Gambit. I felt that one."
"I need touch, and y're touchin' me. I need reassurance, and y're sayin' all a' th' t'ings I need t' hear. Could *you* turn it off?" Logan resisted the urge to stand up and step away the moment he knew he'd been manipulated into moving closer to the Cajun. He *hated* being manipulated, but Remy needed this.
"OK, kid. We have two options. I know ya don't wanna be left alone in here again, but either ya get those shields up with me here, or ya do it with me outside."
"I end up wit' a link t' you trapped in m' shields if I do it wit' y' here."
"Then I'll…" He was interrupted when Remy's attention jumped away from him and out of the building. He sniffed, searching for some sign of who was approaching. The decision had been taken out of their hands.
"Jeannie."
"Th' shields, she'll know I'm…"
"Do it…"
"But…"
"I trust ya." And a hand on his elbow was pulling him up and pushing him towards an empty room as he began building up shields. The structure of his old shields was still in place, like a skeleton that needed fleshing out. For now all he could do was throw up makeshift shields that he could work on strengthening when he was in a less emotionally charged situation. He pushed Logan out as best as he was able before pasting over that hole, and hoped that would be enough to avoid the empathic connection such an action had always created in the past.
Slowing heavy breathing as he completed the thin shields, he slouched down in the chair Logan had pushing him into and hoped they would be enough to hide him from the telepath in the other room. Logan was busy making up some story about having heard something from in the boathouse, but it was quite obvious that Jean had only come over because she had sensed Logan and wanted to welcome him back home. She didn't care why he was out here. After promising to return to the house once he'd done one last check of the boathouse, Jean finally left, and Remy let out a sigh of relief.
"Yer pretty screwed now, kid. No way we're gonna get ya back in the house without 'least Jeannie seein' ya."
"Coulda bin worse. Leas' she ain't one a' th' ones dat was dere."
"Ya still ain't told me what happened back there."
"Ask Betsy, or Ange. Dey know *all* about it."
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"Remy? Oh my God, you're alive!" Remy was enveloped in a hug before he had a chance to step fully through the door, and Logan's hand on his back - that had been guiding him back from the boathouse - slipped away as Jean dragged him inside. He felt the panicked rush of adrenaline, and had to fight against the urge to pull away from the woman who was hanging around his shoulders. He tried to return the greeting, assure her he was alright, but he couldn't get anything out through the fear that was making just breathing difficult. He stumbled gracelessly as she pulled away, keeping one hand on his wrist as if to drag him somewhere. His heart hit his mouth as she released him, leaving him hanging in the middle of the room, lost and alone with people less than an arm's reach away. He didn't see the confused look that flashed across Jean's face, but he felt the flicker of concern that could only have been Logan's as a solid hand grasped his elbow and pulled him towards the door.
"Let's take ya back ta the doc., kid." He mumbled.
"Wait, Logan! The others…" Logan turned back to her, keeping hold of Remy this time, keeping him grounded.
"He don't owe any of yer anythin'." He growled, pointing accusingly at Jean. "By the sounds of it, y'all owe him one hell of an apology."
"Logan, what…" Scott's voice from the doorway stuttered to a stop as he took in the scene. The supposedly dead Gambit, clinging desperately to the supposedly missing Wolverine, who was gesturing angrily at his wife, who was looking quite upset. "What the hell is going on here?"
-,., -
With Remy delivered back into the Beast's care, Logan marched back up the stairs and took a seat in the kitchen where Scott and Jean were waiting for him.
"Tell me what you know."
"Remy was involved in an attempted genocide, and his deception was revealed to some of the X-men. Rogue tried to kill him, and lied to the others about what had happened." Scott's tone was neutral. "When we found out the Professor sent her away from the mansion for her own good. But it seems that was unnecessary, and he's survived."
"Unnecessary? So, you sent her away because she tried to kill a team mate, but since she *failed* what she did was perfectly acceptable." The residual effects of Remy's emotional bombardment were making him edgy, pushing him to anger.
"You didn't hear what he did."
"I never thought I'd hear an X-man ever encourage the death of another. And definitely not from you, Scott Summers!" Ororo was stood in the doorway, face full of rage. "What has come over this team? Warren and Betsy sit and talk about his death as though it was some kind of success!"
"We found out that someone we trusted was keeping something from us. Something unforgivable!" Scott answered levelly as the weather witch joined them in the kitchen. She walked to Logan's side, giving him a brief hug as he stood. He was spared the checking-over any other team member would have got, simply because his healing factor meant that none of his trials showed on his body. Instead she examined his eyes.
"He is gone, Logan. Forgive me for not protecting him well enough." Logan ignored that cryptic comment.
"He isn't, 'Ro. Gotta give him more credit than that."
"How could he survive that… And with his heart so terribly broken?"
"Go see Hank." Shock and surprise flickered across her face as his meaning became clear. Logan turned back to Scott as Ororo fled towards the stairwell.
"When did execution become the answer to betrayal?"
"She didn't tell them what she planned to do. Rogue took the decision out of their hands."
"She *planned* to kill him?"
"Oh yes." It was Jean that answered this time, her voice quite bitter. "She saved him from a potentially quick and relatively painless death, and left him to die of hypothermia in the snows of the Antarctic. It was quite cold and heartless."
"Just like the gal then?" He sneered. Jean snorted helplessly.
"You're unbelievable. Neither of you seem to be taking Remy's transgressions seriously. He massacred the Morlocks!" Wolverine was no longer grinning, his eyes fixed on Scott, gaze serious.
"Massacred is a serious accusation. He did this single-handedly?"
"No, but…"
"So he had others around him?"
"Yes, and…"
"'S not like the Cajun ta kill. Bet he didn't even kill anyone."
"Well no, but…"
"Bet he even managed to save one."
"Sarah…"
"And then Creed mauled him…"
"You *knew* about this! You knew we were harbouring a guilty man, and you didn't say anything!?"
"Creed told me first time he saw the kid fightin' fer our side. Tryin' ta turn us against him. But listen ta yerself, Slim. Ya just proved him innocent, who cares *how* he ended up there, the kid didn't lay a finger on anyone, and has been repenting ever since." His word spoken, Logan got up and went to find Gambit, leaving Scott gaping over the tirade.
"If I were you, Scott, I'd give them both a wide berth for a while." Sensitive ears caught Jean's comment as he left the room, and he was glad to have at least done something for the kid.
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Chapter 5
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Logan had been heading towards the medi-lab, expecting to find Remy there with Hank, where he had left him. But he had caught a scent crossing his path as he got to the bottom of the stairs, and allowed his nose to take over as his mind tried to process what it was that he was smelling. By the time he'd remembered that this was why he smoked cigars - so that the stench clung to him for days, wiping out everything else - he'd identified a mixture of coffee, cigarettes and the sharp tang that meant pain.
Usually hyper enough without the caffeine, he didn't immediately associate the combined scent with Gambit, but by the time he reached the doors of the danger room the boy's own scent was beginning to override the others.
He stopped at the door, feeling the back of his neck tingle and the undeniable urge to just leave, go away, (don't wanna be here, don't wanna be here), taking over for a minute. He stifled the uncertain panic that was rising up in him, sticking his entry code into the keypad beside the door. Hank was stood at Remy's shoulder, both of them facing away from him. His huge form was blocking Logan's line of sight, not letting him see what was going on. Hank glanced once over his shoulder and turned back to Remy.
"Keep your focus, it's only Logan." He reassured softly.
"I know." An infinite amount of strain in Gambit's voice, and Logan became aware of the soft pink glow of Remy's charge in the room.
"That's better charge than you've had all this week, Remy. Not long and you'll be back to full power."
"I can hold it longer." Voice nearly breaking under the strain of forcing the words out as Logan stepped up alongside in time to see the pink glow pulse suddenly, pulling a soft cry from the Cajun.
"Drop it Remy, this isn't doing you any good." Hank's voice level and calm. He was well aware just how dangerous it was, playing with fire this way.
"I can…"
"It's enough for today."
"'nough?" Almost childish plea. Logan's hand came down on his shoulder, suddenly gripping tightly. A crackle of charge between the two of them as the energy refused by the hands finds another route.
"Yes, Remy. Throw it, please." A heartfelt battle-cry announced the launching of the pink missile, which exploded not far out of Remy's hands. Both hands on his shoulders had pulled him back as he released, meaning that he had enough distance to protect him from the blast, but all three of them were knocked backwards off their feet.
Remy whimpered softly as Hank lifted his hand from his side, leaving the rest of him splayed out on the ground as he had fallen. Logan stood and brushed himself off, moving over to the far wall to make sure that the damage was cosmetic, as it should be. The room was built to contain power unleashed like that.
He wandered over to the two still sat on the ground, Remy being supported by Hank's big hand on the middle of his back. He looked exhausted, and the numbed buzz in the back of his mind seemed to confirm that. He didn't even have enough energy to *feel*.
"What are ya doin' to him, Doc.?" He demanded, looking over the semi-conscious form.
"I'm *trying* to save him the use of his right hand, Logan." He felt a sliver of fear roll over his consciousness, and knew it wasn't his own. Hank hadn't ever put it like *that* before, he realised. And Remy hadn't stopped to think about the consequences if this fails. "Can you stand?" It took Remy a moment to realise that the question was aimed at him.
"Sure." He muttered, rolling onto his knees before pushing upwards, not fighting Hank's hand on his elbow. He was fighting the pain fown with an iron will, and a cheerful mask slipped into place, though a little more tight-lipped than usual.
Logan had once mistaken this mask for arrogance before he had come to know the young man and had realised that it was a standard holding pattern for: 'I don't want you to know I'm hurting.'
He focused on Remy's right hand - still outstretched as though holding it away from his body could lessen the pain of it. The thumb, though scarred as his left one, seemed healthy enough. But beside it the next three fingers were mottled black-green-red of bruising, open wounds and the wrecked remains of what had once been beautiful hands. He felt the slow burn of rage build up inside him, and couldn't decide whether or not he was disappointed or glad that Rogue wasn't in the mansion. They'd been friends. When had she turned into the kind of woman that did this to a man and then walked away?
"Don' blame her, homme. Dis not her fault." Damn that kid's brain. Hank interrupted before he could demand exactly how Remy could classify this as 'not her fault'.
"Lets get you back to the lab. One more scan, my friend, and I will happily release you to your room. Though it think perhaps informing the others of your return may be advisable now that Scott and Jean have discovered our deception."
"Did ya meet 'Ro on the way over here?" Logan asked, remembering that she had been on her way.
"No, we may have missed her. I'm assuming she was looking for Remy, and not seeking out assistance herself?"
"Yeah, she walked in on us talking about it."
"Then let us hurry, else she may fear that she has been misled."
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The lab seemed empty when they returned, and though Logan could smell Ororo's scent in the air, he couldn't place her. Remy spoke first, and Logan felt a surge of compassion from the empath and an echo - as if far off - of desperate grief.
"Hey, Stormy." A soft encouragement, as though tempting a scared animal out into the open. A sniffle of suppressed tears and Logan had located the weather witch - hidden in the shadows behind the metal bed. Remy made as if to move towards her, but hesitated as the movement meant he stepped out of the guiding hand Hank had kept on his elbow.
Logan stepped forward and took control, guiding him around to where Storm sat - squashed into the corner as though it would swallow her if she moved far enough back. A gentle hand on his shoulder encouraged Remy to kneel in front of her, and Logan took in the redness of Ororo's cheeks, her tightly closed eyes and the tattered brown coat she was clinging to like a lifeline.
"Hey, 'Ro." Bleary eyes looked up at him, and the heaviness of that grief increased. Was he feeling her emotions through Remy? The feeling was foreign and uncomfortable. "Told ya he was stronger than all that." He finished, bringing his other hand down to rest on Remy's bowed head. Ororo followed the movement and her breath caught as her gaze came to rest on Remy.
"Remy?" If anything the grief increased, and Logan was left confused as Storm near threw herself into Remy's arms, tears streaming down her face.
"Forgive us, forgive us, forgive us, please Remy, please please forgive us." Remy freed his arms to wrap them around Storm's shoulders, tentative with his hands so tender.
"Hush chère. Dere ain' not'in' fo' you t' ask forgiveness fo'. I'm th' one dat has t' ask fo' y' forgiveness."
"No, Remy. No." Ororo pulled back with her hands on his shoulders, staring into his eyes, hesitating when he didn't meet hers. She looked up at Logan, who looked up at Hank to give an explanation.
"Remy's eyes have been quite badly damaged by the UVB he was exposed to." Hank answered the unspoken question quietly. "It shouldn't take long for them to begin to heal." Logan's eyes didn't leave Hank. Such a vague comment wasn't like him, he noted. There was an edge of uncertainty in his voice that he didn't like.
Ororo's hand moved to Remy's cheek, hesitating on auburn hair - so much longer than it should be - and signed.
"I've never seen you with a beard this long. I don't like it, don't do it again." She reprimanded.
"Not bin able t' get rid of it, Stormy, else I woulda done." He grinned softly.
"I will do it, as soon as we have had this talk on the matter of guilt."
"I am guilty. Bin proved guilty ten times over. Paid for it too."
"You paid more than ya dues, kid. Rogue needs ta pay for what *she* did."
"Dis ain't her fault!" Anger, sudden and unexpected. Logan realised a little belatedly that it was a mirror of his own, and forcefully calmed himself.
"How'd ya figure? From what I've heard it was just you, her and the icefield."
"Dey made her absorb me. Mem'ries *and* powers. I could feel their hatred for what I did, even wit' m' shields. She din' have any protection."
"So, she tried to kill you because *the others* wanted to?"
"An' maybe… maybe I wanted to myself." Guilty confession, voice low.
"What was it that you wanted, Remy?" Hank knew what he was saying, but he needed him to actually *say* it before he could do anything about it.
"Done not'in' but bad in dis world. Caused not'in' but hurt. If I could jus' pay th' blood-debt. Wouldn' have t' fight no more."
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Chapter 6
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Logan met Hank's gaze as Ororo escorted Remy up to his room for a shave. Hank kept the gaze for a moment before sighing deeply and flopping into the nearest chair, which gave a groan under the weight. He buried his head in his hands.
"Why can life not give that man a break, for only a moment." The question was rhetorical, so Logan made no reply as he took a seat next to the beast.
"What's up with his eyes." He asked after a moment's silence.
"Did you not understand what I said?" Hank snapped, looking over at Logan a moment later, his eyes an apology.
"No, I got it. But there's something else. Something yer hiding from him."
"Of course, I should know better than to hide things from you." Hank acknowledged. "When he returned I assumed his eyesight to be the least of his troubles. Snowblindness typically heals of its own accord, much as when you turn a light on in the darkness you have a moment of blindness and then your eyes adjust. The pain that Remy was experiencing when he arrived was normal - the eye tissues are often sensitive after such an injury, especially sensitive to light. When the pain began to fade his eyesight should have started to return."
"And it hasn't?"
"Nothing. His eyes are back to the usual sensitivity in terms of pain caused by light, but still his vision is impaired." The frustration was clear in his voice.
"Why haven't ya told him?"
"I fear his reaction. The loss of his shields this morning only serves to demonstrate how tenuous his control is right now. And I still have no solid evidence that this isn't just an effect caused by his rather unique optical physiology. Even if they are not healing as expected, there is nothing I can do for the immediate future to treat them further. While they are causing him no pain other than the emotional, I will keep my thoughts to myself, and would hope you would do the same."
"Sure. But yer gonna have ta tell him sometime, if they don't start healin'."
"Of course, but let us save that conversation for a time when everything is a little more stable for our friend."
-,., -
Clean shaven and relaxed, Remy knelt on the floor in his room gathering his shields about him. The effect was rather like wrapping his mind in cotton wool, putting layer over layer on the paper-thin temporary shields he had erected at the boathouse. He'd asked Storm to give himself a moment to get himself together so that he could face the others without fear of manipulating their responses. It was quite tempting to just leave himself wide open, with all his pain and guilt on the outside, and just see how people took the emotions. But it wasn't right, and he knew it would hurt him more than it would touch them. He didn't want to be at the centre of that right now.
There was a knock at the door and he looked up groggily, realising only belatedly that looking would do him no good. "'s open." He called out, trying to shake off the feeling of his head being muffled. Over time the brushes of other minds on those shields would compact them into a hard shell, and he would add another mental layer. He hadn't even known how he was doing it as a child and over six years he had shields strong enough to baffle one of the strongest psychics in the country. Hopefully knowing what he was doing would allow these shields to build up much more quickly.
The door opened and light feet stepped over the threshold.
"Are you ready, my brother?"
"Have t' be, neh?" He said, getting to his feet without touching the floor.
"Come. Let us get this over with." Taking Remy's unbandaged hand and placing it in the crook of her elbow, Ororo led him back down the stairs and into the living room. Most of the inhabitants of the house were still in bed, so they arrived uninterrupted to find Logan and Hank already there and waiting for them. Remy tried not to outwardly flinch as the careful work he had done in covering the weakness in his shields that was Logan was torn away as soon as he was in reach. With a gesture Hank called them to sit beside him on the sofa, and they all sat in silence for a moment.
"So." Remy spoke up at last, needing to break the tension in the room while they waited for the axe to fall. "Anyt'in' interestin' happen while I was locked in M. le Bête's lab?"
"I only got back this mornin'." Logan answered first.
"Nothing that you need worry yourself with, my friend."
"I didn't lock…" Hank began, only to be interrupted.
"Gambit!?" Four heads flicked towards the voice in the doorway. Only three followed as Warren marched into the room. Remy looked down, knowing that he couldn't meet his gaze accurately. Of all the X-men, why did he have to be the first one to get up? "What the…" The tone changed from bewilderment to anger in a moment. "What the *fuck* are you doing in this house. You don't belong here. You never did." Ignoring the others bristling around the Cajun who was slowly sinking into his chair, Warren advanced him. It was Wolverine that stopped him, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him backwards.
"Give him some fucking space, Wings." He growled. "He belongs here as much as the rest of us." Warren slowly seemed to become aware of Logan.
"You don't know what he *did*." Warren hissed
"I do. Have done for a long time now." Remy started at this, and Logan could feel the surge of confusion that rose up in him. He turned his attention back to Remy, knowing he needed to hear this. "Creed told me, way back. Thought he could turn me against ya, kid, but I didn't care. Heard worse things, and ya tried to make it right when ya realised what was goin' on." Angel snorted.
"You can't make right that kind of slaughter. There's no way of paying back that kind of betrayal."
"His own blood was spilled with that of the Morlocks." Ororo spoke up. "The Marauders were no friends of his."
"Ha! Like I believe that. He can say what he like, work his empathy with all of you. I'm not falling for it." Remy tensed at these words, something he had always been afraid of. Being accused of manipulation in the worst way.
"Warren. He still bears Creed's scars." Hank this time, and Warren was a little more compelled to listen to the voice of his friend.
"Ppht. What scars? I've never seen them, and he makes sure we all see him bare-assed as often as he can." A sneer. Ororo looked at Remy in time to see a look of resignation come over his face. He slid down in the chair and looped a thumb in the waist of the sweat pants he was wearing - anything else being too fiddley to get on with his hands so incapacitated. He didn't have to push them down far to show the reason why he never wore hipsters. An ugly white line drew a curve around the base of his belly, from hip to hip.
Warren was silent for a moment, and Logan found himself staring at that mark, wondering how he'd never seen it before.
"Gets all dark when it's hot, can't see it so well." Remy offered an explanation. "'s why it don' show up in th' showers." An' dat's th' *only* time you seen my ass. He added silently. Warren seemed to shake himself out of it, regather the arguments he'd been putting together for weeks now.
"So what, we've all got our scars from that monster. Doesn't make what he did any less."
"What did he do, Warren? I wasn't there for this 'trial', tell me what he *did*." Jean in the doorway, lips pursed.
"He assembled the marauders. He led them to the Morlocks. He was *responsible*."
"Sinister was holding something over him. Some debt to be repaid." Betsy now beside Jean in the doorway, her face absent as though lost in memory. "I can't… I can't see what it was."
"Control." Betsy started at the sound of Remy's voice from inside the room, not having seen him past Hank's greater bulk. "Over th' chargin' power. A mad scientist offers y' a way t' stop y' blowin' y'self t' hell, y' don' ask 'bout the cost. Y' already know it'll be too high."
"You should have just let yourself blow up." Warren sneered.
"I know."
"Hey guys, what's going on in here?" Bobby trying to see past the two women in the doorway, everyone too frozen from Warren's attack and Remy's retreat to say anything.
"Gambit! God, man, you look like shit." And that was that.
"Morning Bobby." Remy couldn't help but smile as Bobby wandered in with his coffee and dropped onto the couch. "So… what's going on?"
Master Post . Chapters 1-3 . Chapters 4-6 . Chapters 7-9 . Chapters 10-12 . Chapters 13-15 . Chapters 16-18 . Chapters 19-22 . An End In Sight
Author: Faceted Mind
Summary: After his return from Antarctica, Remy's trials are far from over.
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Warnings: Slash, mention of child abuse and rape. Occasional medical/pseudoscientific info-blasts which despite researching may or may not be accurate; forgive me anyone who reads and shakes their heads in annoyance, I am no medic. Oh, and a little British spelling, which I'm sure you can forgive me for.
Notes: This is AU for how Remy gets back to the Mansion and in what state. No glowy green ladies here. A variety of Betas have worked on this fic; Cruel Illusion, Ross and "Point me at the coffee" as far as I remember, but I have done work on it since so all mistakes are my own. This was written in 2005/6, so I blame my youth for all rose-tinted-ness, the sequel (2008/9) is more cynical, jaded and tortuous. I've obviously hit my writing's teen-aged years.
Pairing: Future Logan/Remy, but not just yet ;)
Master Post . Chapters 1-3 . Chapters 4-6 . Chapters 7-9 . Chapters 10-12 . Chapters 13-15 . Chapters 16-18 . Chapters 19-22 . An End In Sight
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Chapter 4
-,., -
"So… Blue knows how to fix this, right?"
Having pulled away the dark glasses, he was crouched in front of Remy, looking deep into familiar-looking devil-eyes to the disturbing sense that there was no one looking back out. Remy was trying to hide his own discomfort by meeting Logan's gaze. Unfortunately he was missing by a good three inches… above his head.
"He t'inks dey get better on deir own."
"Are ya seeing… like shadows or anythin'? Or is it…"
"Black. S'all black mon ami."
"'M sure Hank knows what he's talkin' about. Probably just need ta give it some time." Logan pressed the sunglasses back into Remy's hand, and watched him slide them back on uncomfortably - fighting with his uncooperative hands. He moved so that he was sat alongside him, back pressed up against the wall. The scents of fear and panic were slowly seeping out of the room, and they were both relaxing. "How the hell did ya manage ta escape Hank in this state?" He wondered, half to himself.
"He leaves me 'lone mos' of th' time. Pretty much got m' own treatmen' down pat. He jus' makes sure 'm eatin' righ' and t' change…" He waved the bandaged hand in the air. "this."
"Why ain't that hand healed up as well as the other?"
"Infection." Remy made a face. "Henri bin talkin' about skin grafts. T'ink it might not look so good beneat' all dis."
"And ya managed ta get yerself out of the lab and inta the kitchen with a coffee and a ciggie?" Remy snorted.
"Not Master T'ief fo' not'in', y'know."
"How?"
"Know th' mansion like th' back a' m' hand. 'Leas' what it used t' look like." He smirked. "Could walk it blindfold. So I did. Someone already made th' coffee, an' I had a packet stashed in th' kitchen."
"Why did coming out here spook ya so badly, if ya haven't minded bein' on ya own?"
"Don' know dis place. Wouldn' be able t' find m' way back t' th' mansion. Don' know if I'd even be able t' find th' door. Don' like t' be helpless, Logan. Makes me real…"
"Panicked?" A sigh of resignation.
"Yeah." Logan shuffled a little closer, so that their arms were touching.
"It's all right to be freaked out by this, Remy. This is a scary time, but you're gonna come out the other side stronger for it." Behind the glasses that made the world no darker than it had originally been, Remy blinked slowly, and tried to re-gather his muddled thoughts as an inkling of something not quite right reached him.
"'K, Logan. Y' need t' take m' back t' th' mansion now." He said cagily, suddenly worried.
"I'm not takin' ya back until I'm sure ya shields are back in place."
"I can' do dat wit' you dere. Need y' away from me."
"So I'll…" No, can't leave him alone again, don't leave him alone again! "Pull it together, Gambit. I felt that one."
"I need touch, and y're touchin' me. I need reassurance, and y're sayin' all a' th' t'ings I need t' hear. Could *you* turn it off?" Logan resisted the urge to stand up and step away the moment he knew he'd been manipulated into moving closer to the Cajun. He *hated* being manipulated, but Remy needed this.
"OK, kid. We have two options. I know ya don't wanna be left alone in here again, but either ya get those shields up with me here, or ya do it with me outside."
"I end up wit' a link t' you trapped in m' shields if I do it wit' y' here."
"Then I'll…" He was interrupted when Remy's attention jumped away from him and out of the building. He sniffed, searching for some sign of who was approaching. The decision had been taken out of their hands.
"Jeannie."
"Th' shields, she'll know I'm…"
"Do it…"
"But…"
"I trust ya." And a hand on his elbow was pulling him up and pushing him towards an empty room as he began building up shields. The structure of his old shields was still in place, like a skeleton that needed fleshing out. For now all he could do was throw up makeshift shields that he could work on strengthening when he was in a less emotionally charged situation. He pushed Logan out as best as he was able before pasting over that hole, and hoped that would be enough to avoid the empathic connection such an action had always created in the past.
Slowing heavy breathing as he completed the thin shields, he slouched down in the chair Logan had pushing him into and hoped they would be enough to hide him from the telepath in the other room. Logan was busy making up some story about having heard something from in the boathouse, but it was quite obvious that Jean had only come over because she had sensed Logan and wanted to welcome him back home. She didn't care why he was out here. After promising to return to the house once he'd done one last check of the boathouse, Jean finally left, and Remy let out a sigh of relief.
"Yer pretty screwed now, kid. No way we're gonna get ya back in the house without 'least Jeannie seein' ya."
"Coulda bin worse. Leas' she ain't one a' th' ones dat was dere."
"Ya still ain't told me what happened back there."
"Ask Betsy, or Ange. Dey know *all* about it."
-,., -
"Remy? Oh my God, you're alive!" Remy was enveloped in a hug before he had a chance to step fully through the door, and Logan's hand on his back - that had been guiding him back from the boathouse - slipped away as Jean dragged him inside. He felt the panicked rush of adrenaline, and had to fight against the urge to pull away from the woman who was hanging around his shoulders. He tried to return the greeting, assure her he was alright, but he couldn't get anything out through the fear that was making just breathing difficult. He stumbled gracelessly as she pulled away, keeping one hand on his wrist as if to drag him somewhere. His heart hit his mouth as she released him, leaving him hanging in the middle of the room, lost and alone with people less than an arm's reach away. He didn't see the confused look that flashed across Jean's face, but he felt the flicker of concern that could only have been Logan's as a solid hand grasped his elbow and pulled him towards the door.
"Let's take ya back ta the doc., kid." He mumbled.
"Wait, Logan! The others…" Logan turned back to her, keeping hold of Remy this time, keeping him grounded.
"He don't owe any of yer anythin'." He growled, pointing accusingly at Jean. "By the sounds of it, y'all owe him one hell of an apology."
"Logan, what…" Scott's voice from the doorway stuttered to a stop as he took in the scene. The supposedly dead Gambit, clinging desperately to the supposedly missing Wolverine, who was gesturing angrily at his wife, who was looking quite upset. "What the hell is going on here?"
-,., -
With Remy delivered back into the Beast's care, Logan marched back up the stairs and took a seat in the kitchen where Scott and Jean were waiting for him.
"Tell me what you know."
"Remy was involved in an attempted genocide, and his deception was revealed to some of the X-men. Rogue tried to kill him, and lied to the others about what had happened." Scott's tone was neutral. "When we found out the Professor sent her away from the mansion for her own good. But it seems that was unnecessary, and he's survived."
"Unnecessary? So, you sent her away because she tried to kill a team mate, but since she *failed* what she did was perfectly acceptable." The residual effects of Remy's emotional bombardment were making him edgy, pushing him to anger.
"You didn't hear what he did."
"I never thought I'd hear an X-man ever encourage the death of another. And definitely not from you, Scott Summers!" Ororo was stood in the doorway, face full of rage. "What has come over this team? Warren and Betsy sit and talk about his death as though it was some kind of success!"
"We found out that someone we trusted was keeping something from us. Something unforgivable!" Scott answered levelly as the weather witch joined them in the kitchen. She walked to Logan's side, giving him a brief hug as he stood. He was spared the checking-over any other team member would have got, simply because his healing factor meant that none of his trials showed on his body. Instead she examined his eyes.
"He is gone, Logan. Forgive me for not protecting him well enough." Logan ignored that cryptic comment.
"He isn't, 'Ro. Gotta give him more credit than that."
"How could he survive that… And with his heart so terribly broken?"
"Go see Hank." Shock and surprise flickered across her face as his meaning became clear. Logan turned back to Scott as Ororo fled towards the stairwell.
"When did execution become the answer to betrayal?"
"She didn't tell them what she planned to do. Rogue took the decision out of their hands."
"She *planned* to kill him?"
"Oh yes." It was Jean that answered this time, her voice quite bitter. "She saved him from a potentially quick and relatively painless death, and left him to die of hypothermia in the snows of the Antarctic. It was quite cold and heartless."
"Just like the gal then?" He sneered. Jean snorted helplessly.
"You're unbelievable. Neither of you seem to be taking Remy's transgressions seriously. He massacred the Morlocks!" Wolverine was no longer grinning, his eyes fixed on Scott, gaze serious.
"Massacred is a serious accusation. He did this single-handedly?"
"No, but…"
"So he had others around him?"
"Yes, and…"
"'S not like the Cajun ta kill. Bet he didn't even kill anyone."
"Well no, but…"
"Bet he even managed to save one."
"Sarah…"
"And then Creed mauled him…"
"You *knew* about this! You knew we were harbouring a guilty man, and you didn't say anything!?"
"Creed told me first time he saw the kid fightin' fer our side. Tryin' ta turn us against him. But listen ta yerself, Slim. Ya just proved him innocent, who cares *how* he ended up there, the kid didn't lay a finger on anyone, and has been repenting ever since." His word spoken, Logan got up and went to find Gambit, leaving Scott gaping over the tirade.
"If I were you, Scott, I'd give them both a wide berth for a while." Sensitive ears caught Jean's comment as he left the room, and he was glad to have at least done something for the kid.
-,., -
Chapter 5
-,., -
Logan had been heading towards the medi-lab, expecting to find Remy there with Hank, where he had left him. But he had caught a scent crossing his path as he got to the bottom of the stairs, and allowed his nose to take over as his mind tried to process what it was that he was smelling. By the time he'd remembered that this was why he smoked cigars - so that the stench clung to him for days, wiping out everything else - he'd identified a mixture of coffee, cigarettes and the sharp tang that meant pain.
Usually hyper enough without the caffeine, he didn't immediately associate the combined scent with Gambit, but by the time he reached the doors of the danger room the boy's own scent was beginning to override the others.
He stopped at the door, feeling the back of his neck tingle and the undeniable urge to just leave, go away, (don't wanna be here, don't wanna be here), taking over for a minute. He stifled the uncertain panic that was rising up in him, sticking his entry code into the keypad beside the door. Hank was stood at Remy's shoulder, both of them facing away from him. His huge form was blocking Logan's line of sight, not letting him see what was going on. Hank glanced once over his shoulder and turned back to Remy.
"Keep your focus, it's only Logan." He reassured softly.
"I know." An infinite amount of strain in Gambit's voice, and Logan became aware of the soft pink glow of Remy's charge in the room.
"That's better charge than you've had all this week, Remy. Not long and you'll be back to full power."
"I can hold it longer." Voice nearly breaking under the strain of forcing the words out as Logan stepped up alongside in time to see the pink glow pulse suddenly, pulling a soft cry from the Cajun.
"Drop it Remy, this isn't doing you any good." Hank's voice level and calm. He was well aware just how dangerous it was, playing with fire this way.
"I can…"
"It's enough for today."
"'nough?" Almost childish plea. Logan's hand came down on his shoulder, suddenly gripping tightly. A crackle of charge between the two of them as the energy refused by the hands finds another route.
"Yes, Remy. Throw it, please." A heartfelt battle-cry announced the launching of the pink missile, which exploded not far out of Remy's hands. Both hands on his shoulders had pulled him back as he released, meaning that he had enough distance to protect him from the blast, but all three of them were knocked backwards off their feet.
Remy whimpered softly as Hank lifted his hand from his side, leaving the rest of him splayed out on the ground as he had fallen. Logan stood and brushed himself off, moving over to the far wall to make sure that the damage was cosmetic, as it should be. The room was built to contain power unleashed like that.
He wandered over to the two still sat on the ground, Remy being supported by Hank's big hand on the middle of his back. He looked exhausted, and the numbed buzz in the back of his mind seemed to confirm that. He didn't even have enough energy to *feel*.
"What are ya doin' to him, Doc.?" He demanded, looking over the semi-conscious form.
"I'm *trying* to save him the use of his right hand, Logan." He felt a sliver of fear roll over his consciousness, and knew it wasn't his own. Hank hadn't ever put it like *that* before, he realised. And Remy hadn't stopped to think about the consequences if this fails. "Can you stand?" It took Remy a moment to realise that the question was aimed at him.
"Sure." He muttered, rolling onto his knees before pushing upwards, not fighting Hank's hand on his elbow. He was fighting the pain fown with an iron will, and a cheerful mask slipped into place, though a little more tight-lipped than usual.
Logan had once mistaken this mask for arrogance before he had come to know the young man and had realised that it was a standard holding pattern for: 'I don't want you to know I'm hurting.'
He focused on Remy's right hand - still outstretched as though holding it away from his body could lessen the pain of it. The thumb, though scarred as his left one, seemed healthy enough. But beside it the next three fingers were mottled black-green-red of bruising, open wounds and the wrecked remains of what had once been beautiful hands. He felt the slow burn of rage build up inside him, and couldn't decide whether or not he was disappointed or glad that Rogue wasn't in the mansion. They'd been friends. When had she turned into the kind of woman that did this to a man and then walked away?
"Don' blame her, homme. Dis not her fault." Damn that kid's brain. Hank interrupted before he could demand exactly how Remy could classify this as 'not her fault'.
"Lets get you back to the lab. One more scan, my friend, and I will happily release you to your room. Though it think perhaps informing the others of your return may be advisable now that Scott and Jean have discovered our deception."
"Did ya meet 'Ro on the way over here?" Logan asked, remembering that she had been on her way.
"No, we may have missed her. I'm assuming she was looking for Remy, and not seeking out assistance herself?"
"Yeah, she walked in on us talking about it."
"Then let us hurry, else she may fear that she has been misled."
-,., -
The lab seemed empty when they returned, and though Logan could smell Ororo's scent in the air, he couldn't place her. Remy spoke first, and Logan felt a surge of compassion from the empath and an echo - as if far off - of desperate grief.
"Hey, Stormy." A soft encouragement, as though tempting a scared animal out into the open. A sniffle of suppressed tears and Logan had located the weather witch - hidden in the shadows behind the metal bed. Remy made as if to move towards her, but hesitated as the movement meant he stepped out of the guiding hand Hank had kept on his elbow.
Logan stepped forward and took control, guiding him around to where Storm sat - squashed into the corner as though it would swallow her if she moved far enough back. A gentle hand on his shoulder encouraged Remy to kneel in front of her, and Logan took in the redness of Ororo's cheeks, her tightly closed eyes and the tattered brown coat she was clinging to like a lifeline.
"Hey, 'Ro." Bleary eyes looked up at him, and the heaviness of that grief increased. Was he feeling her emotions through Remy? The feeling was foreign and uncomfortable. "Told ya he was stronger than all that." He finished, bringing his other hand down to rest on Remy's bowed head. Ororo followed the movement and her breath caught as her gaze came to rest on Remy.
"Remy?" If anything the grief increased, and Logan was left confused as Storm near threw herself into Remy's arms, tears streaming down her face.
"Forgive us, forgive us, forgive us, please Remy, please please forgive us." Remy freed his arms to wrap them around Storm's shoulders, tentative with his hands so tender.
"Hush chère. Dere ain' not'in' fo' you t' ask forgiveness fo'. I'm th' one dat has t' ask fo' y' forgiveness."
"No, Remy. No." Ororo pulled back with her hands on his shoulders, staring into his eyes, hesitating when he didn't meet hers. She looked up at Logan, who looked up at Hank to give an explanation.
"Remy's eyes have been quite badly damaged by the UVB he was exposed to." Hank answered the unspoken question quietly. "It shouldn't take long for them to begin to heal." Logan's eyes didn't leave Hank. Such a vague comment wasn't like him, he noted. There was an edge of uncertainty in his voice that he didn't like.
Ororo's hand moved to Remy's cheek, hesitating on auburn hair - so much longer than it should be - and signed.
"I've never seen you with a beard this long. I don't like it, don't do it again." She reprimanded.
"Not bin able t' get rid of it, Stormy, else I woulda done." He grinned softly.
"I will do it, as soon as we have had this talk on the matter of guilt."
"I am guilty. Bin proved guilty ten times over. Paid for it too."
"You paid more than ya dues, kid. Rogue needs ta pay for what *she* did."
"Dis ain't her fault!" Anger, sudden and unexpected. Logan realised a little belatedly that it was a mirror of his own, and forcefully calmed himself.
"How'd ya figure? From what I've heard it was just you, her and the icefield."
"Dey made her absorb me. Mem'ries *and* powers. I could feel their hatred for what I did, even wit' m' shields. She din' have any protection."
"So, she tried to kill you because *the others* wanted to?"
"An' maybe… maybe I wanted to myself." Guilty confession, voice low.
"What was it that you wanted, Remy?" Hank knew what he was saying, but he needed him to actually *say* it before he could do anything about it.
"Done not'in' but bad in dis world. Caused not'in' but hurt. If I could jus' pay th' blood-debt. Wouldn' have t' fight no more."
-,., -
Chapter 6
-,., -
Logan met Hank's gaze as Ororo escorted Remy up to his room for a shave. Hank kept the gaze for a moment before sighing deeply and flopping into the nearest chair, which gave a groan under the weight. He buried his head in his hands.
"Why can life not give that man a break, for only a moment." The question was rhetorical, so Logan made no reply as he took a seat next to the beast.
"What's up with his eyes." He asked after a moment's silence.
"Did you not understand what I said?" Hank snapped, looking over at Logan a moment later, his eyes an apology.
"No, I got it. But there's something else. Something yer hiding from him."
"Of course, I should know better than to hide things from you." Hank acknowledged. "When he returned I assumed his eyesight to be the least of his troubles. Snowblindness typically heals of its own accord, much as when you turn a light on in the darkness you have a moment of blindness and then your eyes adjust. The pain that Remy was experiencing when he arrived was normal - the eye tissues are often sensitive after such an injury, especially sensitive to light. When the pain began to fade his eyesight should have started to return."
"And it hasn't?"
"Nothing. His eyes are back to the usual sensitivity in terms of pain caused by light, but still his vision is impaired." The frustration was clear in his voice.
"Why haven't ya told him?"
"I fear his reaction. The loss of his shields this morning only serves to demonstrate how tenuous his control is right now. And I still have no solid evidence that this isn't just an effect caused by his rather unique optical physiology. Even if they are not healing as expected, there is nothing I can do for the immediate future to treat them further. While they are causing him no pain other than the emotional, I will keep my thoughts to myself, and would hope you would do the same."
"Sure. But yer gonna have ta tell him sometime, if they don't start healin'."
"Of course, but let us save that conversation for a time when everything is a little more stable for our friend."
-,., -
Clean shaven and relaxed, Remy knelt on the floor in his room gathering his shields about him. The effect was rather like wrapping his mind in cotton wool, putting layer over layer on the paper-thin temporary shields he had erected at the boathouse. He'd asked Storm to give himself a moment to get himself together so that he could face the others without fear of manipulating their responses. It was quite tempting to just leave himself wide open, with all his pain and guilt on the outside, and just see how people took the emotions. But it wasn't right, and he knew it would hurt him more than it would touch them. He didn't want to be at the centre of that right now.
There was a knock at the door and he looked up groggily, realising only belatedly that looking would do him no good. "'s open." He called out, trying to shake off the feeling of his head being muffled. Over time the brushes of other minds on those shields would compact them into a hard shell, and he would add another mental layer. He hadn't even known how he was doing it as a child and over six years he had shields strong enough to baffle one of the strongest psychics in the country. Hopefully knowing what he was doing would allow these shields to build up much more quickly.
The door opened and light feet stepped over the threshold.
"Are you ready, my brother?"
"Have t' be, neh?" He said, getting to his feet without touching the floor.
"Come. Let us get this over with." Taking Remy's unbandaged hand and placing it in the crook of her elbow, Ororo led him back down the stairs and into the living room. Most of the inhabitants of the house were still in bed, so they arrived uninterrupted to find Logan and Hank already there and waiting for them. Remy tried not to outwardly flinch as the careful work he had done in covering the weakness in his shields that was Logan was torn away as soon as he was in reach. With a gesture Hank called them to sit beside him on the sofa, and they all sat in silence for a moment.
"So." Remy spoke up at last, needing to break the tension in the room while they waited for the axe to fall. "Anyt'in' interestin' happen while I was locked in M. le Bête's lab?"
"I only got back this mornin'." Logan answered first.
"Nothing that you need worry yourself with, my friend."
"I didn't lock…" Hank began, only to be interrupted.
"Gambit!?" Four heads flicked towards the voice in the doorway. Only three followed as Warren marched into the room. Remy looked down, knowing that he couldn't meet his gaze accurately. Of all the X-men, why did he have to be the first one to get up? "What the…" The tone changed from bewilderment to anger in a moment. "What the *fuck* are you doing in this house. You don't belong here. You never did." Ignoring the others bristling around the Cajun who was slowly sinking into his chair, Warren advanced him. It was Wolverine that stopped him, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him backwards.
"Give him some fucking space, Wings." He growled. "He belongs here as much as the rest of us." Warren slowly seemed to become aware of Logan.
"You don't know what he *did*." Warren hissed
"I do. Have done for a long time now." Remy started at this, and Logan could feel the surge of confusion that rose up in him. He turned his attention back to Remy, knowing he needed to hear this. "Creed told me, way back. Thought he could turn me against ya, kid, but I didn't care. Heard worse things, and ya tried to make it right when ya realised what was goin' on." Angel snorted.
"You can't make right that kind of slaughter. There's no way of paying back that kind of betrayal."
"His own blood was spilled with that of the Morlocks." Ororo spoke up. "The Marauders were no friends of his."
"Ha! Like I believe that. He can say what he like, work his empathy with all of you. I'm not falling for it." Remy tensed at these words, something he had always been afraid of. Being accused of manipulation in the worst way.
"Warren. He still bears Creed's scars." Hank this time, and Warren was a little more compelled to listen to the voice of his friend.
"Ppht. What scars? I've never seen them, and he makes sure we all see him bare-assed as often as he can." A sneer. Ororo looked at Remy in time to see a look of resignation come over his face. He slid down in the chair and looped a thumb in the waist of the sweat pants he was wearing - anything else being too fiddley to get on with his hands so incapacitated. He didn't have to push them down far to show the reason why he never wore hipsters. An ugly white line drew a curve around the base of his belly, from hip to hip.
Warren was silent for a moment, and Logan found himself staring at that mark, wondering how he'd never seen it before.
"Gets all dark when it's hot, can't see it so well." Remy offered an explanation. "'s why it don' show up in th' showers." An' dat's th' *only* time you seen my ass. He added silently. Warren seemed to shake himself out of it, regather the arguments he'd been putting together for weeks now.
"So what, we've all got our scars from that monster. Doesn't make what he did any less."
"What did he do, Warren? I wasn't there for this 'trial', tell me what he *did*." Jean in the doorway, lips pursed.
"He assembled the marauders. He led them to the Morlocks. He was *responsible*."
"Sinister was holding something over him. Some debt to be repaid." Betsy now beside Jean in the doorway, her face absent as though lost in memory. "I can't… I can't see what it was."
"Control." Betsy started at the sound of Remy's voice from inside the room, not having seen him past Hank's greater bulk. "Over th' chargin' power. A mad scientist offers y' a way t' stop y' blowin' y'self t' hell, y' don' ask 'bout the cost. Y' already know it'll be too high."
"You should have just let yourself blow up." Warren sneered.
"I know."
"Hey guys, what's going on in here?" Bobby trying to see past the two women in the doorway, everyone too frozen from Warren's attack and Remy's retreat to say anything.
"Gambit! God, man, you look like shit." And that was that.
"Morning Bobby." Remy couldn't help but smile as Bobby wandered in with his coffee and dropped onto the couch. "So… what's going on?"
Master Post . Chapters 1-3 . Chapters 4-6 . Chapters 7-9 . Chapters 10-12 . Chapters 13-15 . Chapters 16-18 . Chapters 19-22 . An End In Sight