Pack Pain

"Storm, no!" Cyclops watched as the weather goddess was slammed against the wall by Sabretooth. Gambit was already attacking by the time Cyclops and Phoenix made it across the street.

"What's the matter, punk? This frail made you into a pussy?" Creed taunted.

"Lemme show y' m' claws, Chat."

Creed laughed. Gambit had guts and a fair amount of skill making him a good challenge for blowing off some steam. "Got another bitch beggin' huh, boy? Stupid cunts. Should know a bitch like you needs to be put in yer place."

Gambit didn't reply, but his eyes flashed behind his shades. Sabretooth froze in place. Gambit glanced at Phoenix. "Scott has the car. Get Storm and we'll get out of here." Remy gathered his sister into his arms and swallowed his comment to Jean as he noted the punctures on Storm's arms. He climbed into the back of the Jeep and held Storm close as Scott floored it back to the Mansion. There was blood in her hair. Remy opened his shields and felt the familiar acid burn of pain. He drew it into himself and Storm's face eased. She was unconscious a heartbeat later.

Remy hovered in the med-lab while the Shi'ar machinery did its work. "I am fine, brother."

"Good," Remy kissed her forehead. "Then Henri let y' go an' we finish up the plantin'."

"My dear Cajun, I will be keeping Storm overnight for observation. I informed you of that fact when you asked the last five times if I would release her to your care. Now that she is awake, I must ask you to leave us in peace."

Remy pouted, but the doctor was immune. He pointed to the door in clear order. The thief left unwilling but obedient. Scott was waiting for him with a beer and a smile. "Blue threw you out," he assessed. Remy nodded. "Come here." Remy curled up next to the field leader. He leaned against the older man.

"Y' got a headache?"

"Yes, it's called 'Gambit.'"

"Asshole. Lemme ease it f' y'." Remy stroked Scott's forehead, absorbing the pain easily. "That's better. Don' like seein' those lines on y'r face."

Scott settled his arm around Remy's shoulders, marveling at the power in the slender build. Remy nuzzled at Scott's throat. He nipped at the closest lobe. "Watch the teeth. You're getting as bad as Logan."

Remy sighed. "When's he comin' home?"

"When he gets Kitty settled." Scott ruffled Remy's bangs. "Cheer up, kiddo. He'll be back."

"Don' get m' wrong, cher. Love y' t' pieces, but I'm missin' his heart an' his. . ." Remy fumbled for the word. "Aura?" he came up with.

"How your empathy sees him?"

"M' charm, oui."

"How do we feel different?"

Remy considered. "It ain't easy t' explain. More like he looks after me when I don' t'ink I need it. Makes m' t' be the center of the universe."

Scott considered. "So why put up with me?"

"Cause y' need m' an' he don't."

Scott blinked. "What does that mean?"

Remy squirmed a bit. "He so sure in his skin, so focussed, so true t' his purposes, he makes m' feel secure. Y' make m' feel wild. Y' need t' be in the center of the world instead of bein' content t' set back. I can make y' the center of m' world."

"That is the first time I've been told I'm the wild one."

Remy grinned. "They don' know y' like me, den. Y' pure psycho, cher."

"I'd say think you, but Charles would have a hissy fit."

"Oooh. That'd be interestin' t' see."

"It isn't pretty."

"That's cuz he ain't. You gettin' prissy, now that's pretty."

"Come on, brat, let's find someplace more comfortable to snark at each other."

"Was t'inkin' t' do somet'in' other than snark."

"If you're good."

"Define 'good.'"

Scott shook his head. He ruffled the Cajun's bangs gently. He kissed the younger man's forehead. "Let's get dinner."

Remy smiled. "How'd y' manage t' keep Jeannie out of the med-lab f' so long?"

"Well, I got Charles to keep her occupied."

"So she don't know how close it was?" Remy said softly.

"No. And I know that Storm won't say anything to her about it."

"She was like to die. There was a skull fracture and bleedin'. If'n we didn' have that piece of machinery in there she might not be there."

"Then again she might. She's stubborn."

"Oui. What y' want f' dinner?" Remy peered into the refrigerator making a note that he was next up on the shopping roster.

"Whatever."

"Dat ain't exactly helpful. Y'r stomach botherin' y' too?"

Scott blinked in surprise. "Yeah, I guess it is. It happens." He shrugged. "The headaches get in the way of eating."

"Which is why y' ain't up to fightin' weight this month."

"I am too up to weight. I don't outweigh Logan, but shit, he's twice my size."

"But y' can feel y' bones pretty easily."

Scott frowned. "I'm fine."

Remy put a hand up to forestall any other comments. "If I make somet'in' will y' eat it?"

"Yes."

"Bien."

****

Remy massaged Jean's shoulders absently as she worked on the mending pile. There were some things that she couldn't let go of in this world. Darning socks was one of those things. Her mom had done it for as long as she could remember. And she had done it too, as part of her therapy. It was an activity meant to keep her focused and the thoughts of everyone else at bay. She relaxed at the heat radiating into her shoulders. "Thanks, Remy."

"Anytime, chere. Y' know I got the touch."

She smiled up at him. "How about knowing your way around a sewing needle?"

"Non. Ain't never needed it. Talk t' y' later."

"Coward!" she called after his retreating form.

****

Remy brushed the hair off of Scott's forehead. "Let m' massage y' shoulders f' a bit. Y' look tight as Robert's purse strings."

Scott smiled. "Sure."

Remy's fingers were strong and bit into the tense muscles releasing what felt like bone-deep pain. Scott hissed, then relaxed as the knots eased. His eyes drifted shut. Remy's hands were warm and he was trying to be gentle, but there were some stubborn muscles in Scott's back. The field leader leaned back into the firm hands. His headache was easing too. "Are you charming me, Cajun?"

"Yup. Just a touch though. Don't worry. Logan won't even snap at m' about somethin' like this."

"Be careful."

"Pas de problem. Y' worry too much," Remy chided. "That's what gets these knots in y' shoulders."

Scott shrugged. He winced as Remy's fingers found a sore spot. He let the Cajun relax him. It was nice to be able to lean into a strong touch. "Thanks, kiddo," he said softly. "But if you do any more I'll have to find a place to nap."

"Mebbe that's what I'm after, someone t' snuggle while I'm sleepin'."

"All you have to do is ask," Scott responded. Remy kissed his cheek.

"Later." Remy hummed as he left the office.

****

Warren saw the Cajun watching him fly. His hawk eyes could see the yearning painted on the theif's face. The younger man was watching him from the roof, eyes shining with something unnamable. Acting on impulse, Warren swept down out of the sky and settled on the roof. "What's wrong?"

"Not'in'. I was just watchin'. I'll go in if y' like."

Warren blinked. "No, that's not it at all. I was just wondering why you were watching."

"Because, merde, I don' know, because y' look so free up dere. So wild, so perfect." Remy sighed. "Wish I could take away all the pain y' was caused. Wish I could give y' back y' proper wings. Mebbe that'd get rid of the pain in y' eyes." Remy's fingers twitched towards Warren's face. The businessman felt a sadness tug at his heart at the aborted movement. Remy was a toucher. Any fool with eyes could tell that by watching him with the people he loved.

"It's okay. I won't break if you touch me."

Remy's lips twitched into a semblence of a smile. "Y' sure 'bout that? Y' awful fragile some days."

"I'm sure."

The thief's fingers were light as they touched the metal wings. He stroked them. "I t'ought they'd be cold."

Warren's wings twitched. "No, they're bio-mechanical.They run from my blood."

Remy frowned. "How dat work?" he murmured. "Ought t' ask Hank, non? May I?"

"What?"

"May I ask Hank 'bout y' wings?"

Warren blinked. "Sure. Remy, what's wrong?"

"They hurt y'," he stated quietly. "No one ever tol' m' how y' got them. But I seen pictures of y' wit' such pretty white wings b'fore. Suddenly, they's metal. Don' understand me."

"I lost them in the tunnels." Warren stopped. "No, they were damaged in the tunnels. A friend, named Cam, cut them off. He thought I'd be happier without them. I'd be normal. I joined Apocalypse. He gave me these wings. He destroyed me." Warren froze when he saw the Cajun lower his head. The gentle fingers had never stopped stroking his wing. "Christ, don't get upset or Logan will gut me."

"Logan ain't here, cher. Don' worry so. Y' get wrinkles." Remy looked up through his bangs. "Figure y' need t' talk about it t' someone, sometime. I know y' don' like m', but. . ."

"Why do you think that?" Warren was shocked. He thought the Cajun couldn't stand him.

"Y' don't talk wit' m'. Y' avoid the poker games. Y' don't eat nothin' I cook. Y' won' even talk stocks wit' m'. Y' don' want t' train wit' me. What else am I supposed t' think? Besides, y' get this cold little look anytime I talk t' y'."

"Cold?"

"Oui, like ice across m' soul." Remy shivered. "Y' angry at m' or somet'in' now." He sounded miserable.

"No, Remy, I'm not angry at you." Warren smiled. Warren was angry, but not at the Cajun. "I thought you didn't like me."

Remy blinked. "Me?" The red eyes were full of confusion. "But I don't dislike y'. Figured y' were just a little bit of a snob. Or that I done somethin' wrong and y' hated m' f' it. Y' so full of rage and pain." Remy's hand rested lightly on Warren's wing. "Merde, I'm sorry. Shouldn't be pryin'. Just it gets hard t' hold it down when I touch y'." Remy pulled his hand away.

"Prying?" Warren blinked. "You're an empath? That's what you mean by charm?" A wave of dismay ran through him. They'd dealt with an empath when it was just the five of them. He'd died because of the pain that surrounded him. "Why didn't you tell me? I'll increase my shields."

Remy laughed bitterly. "It don't work. No one here can shield their emotions. Not even Charles! Don't mind m'. It's been actin' strange since before Christmas. It'll even out. It always does."

"Since you got together with Logan?"

Remy blinked. "Oui, about that time, I guess. After Rogue left, but b'fore I moved in wit' Logan."

"Maybe it's just a reaction to a new lover," Warren offered. "That messes all of us up. I remember when Scott and I used to fight over Jean. You'd have thought we hated each other."

"Could be. Hadn't thought of that." Remy frowned looking down and away. He looked like he was trying to remember something. "I remember last time it got this way was after Genny died in Paris." His accent had all but disappeared and Warren couldn't help but stare.

"Is that your real accent?"

Remy looked up in surprise. "Non, the Cajun's my real accent. The other's m' business accent. Y' know, when y' just want t' blend in. Folks t'ink I'm stupid when I talk normal."

Warren looked at him with mock-seriousness. "I hate to break it to you, Remy, but I've always thought you were stupid, accent or not. Hooking up with Logan only confirmed it."

"Ought t' t'row y' off the roof," Remy responded. He was smirking slightly. "Well, den the accent done it's work right." He glanced at the wings. "How do they shoot feathers?"

Warren blinked. "I never really thought about it." He focused on the dormer's side and launched one of his flanchets. Remy watched, fascinated.

"I ain't never seen anythin' like it. Most folks still have t' t'row stuff. Like Pete an' me." He frowned. "Harpooner does too. He got charge as well. Riptide, now, he launches bone fragments. Mebbe it's similar t' that?"

"You could ask Hank. I think he had me down in the lab for months after I got them."

"That'd mean goin' down t' the lab. I ain't fond of the place. And Stormy's down there so Hank ordered m' out. Guess I was hoverin' too much. Non, better t' pester y' wit' questions." Remy pulled the feather out of the siding. He weighed it in his hand. Warren was fascinated. He'd never seen anything catch Remy's attention like this before. He was like Hank with a new project. He twirled the metal feather between his fingers. He frowned. It glowed a light pink. There was a series of small pops. Warren stared. There was a white feather in Remy's hands now.

"What did you do?"

"I got rid of the metal bits. I wanted t' see what is was made of. Felt like two different bits at least."

"I didn't think about them being anything but metal. I know they were bio-mechanical, but I never thought. So my wings are real?"

"Must be. Talk t' Hank." Remy handed over the feather.

"I know you can't charge living tissue, but. . ."

"I don' know if I can do anyt'in' about gettin' y' wings back."

"But this is a step closer. Thanks." Warren was ready to take off again. "Do you want to fly?"

"Better not. Not until m' powers even out. T'anks." Warren flew away. He could feel Remy's eyes follow him.

****

Remy curled up in the bed. He breathed in the scent of his lovers that lingered in the covers. His mind was wirling with possibilities. He had to work on his next paper. He needed to publish. But it had to be done quietly. He couldn't help but think of Warren though. The man was in such pain and Remy knew it could be eased. Logan would beat him senseless if he tried it. But Logan was in Scotland helping Kitty move to a new house with her paramour. He wouldn't be back until they were settled. It could work. If he only did a little per day. He smiled. He shut his eyes and dreamt of nothing.

****

Warren twirled the white feather. "Bets, if I could get my real wings back, I mean if there really were a way, what do you think I'd have to do to pay for it?"

"I don't know." Betsy looked up from her book. "What made you ask?"

"This."

"It's a feather? One of your old ones?"

"It's from my wing. Gambit purified it, for lack of a better word. He burned all of the metal out of it as part of his examination into how the fucking things work."

Betsy's brows rose. "You were talking to Gambit about your wings?"

"He was watching me fly. One thing led to another. Now, I'm thinking."

"I thought I smelled smoke."

"I don't know why I put up with you."

"Must be love." Betsy settled next to him on the bed. "So tell me your deep thoughts."

"If Gambit can purify one feather, could he do all of my wings? Or could Hank figure out something to do it for me? God, I don't even know what it would be like to have my real wings back." He chewed at his lip. "I don't mind being blue, but my wings, I thought losing them would kill me, Bets. And to think that I don't have to have them metal? And I don't know what it would cost me."

Betsy was quiet for a long time. He hoped she was thinking. "I think, love, that the biggest thing you'll have to deal with is your pride. Just ask. The worst that happens is that it isn't possible right now. But that doesn't mean that it will never be possible, just that you have to devote some time to it. Are you sure you want to ask Gambit though? I thought you didn't like him."

Warren stared at her.

"What?"

"You thought I didn't like him? I thought he didn't like me."

"Where did you get that idea? You've been a total bastard too him since we met him."

Warren sighed. "Then I don't know. I just thought he didn't like me. So we try to keep it professional and avoid one another."

"I never would have guessed that. It never seemed mutual to me. More that he was just trying to keep you from going off on him. I did see him ready to kill Bobby, but that was after Logan ended up unconscious, which I think is reasonable." Betsy considered. "I don't know, Warren. You'll have to ask."

****

Scott settled into bed and Remy immediately snuggled against him. Scott laughed softly, his breath ruffling the younger man's bangs. The three of them hadn't really progressed to sex, but they shared a bed more times than not. Scott tried to give Remy and Logan time alone, but they were resistant to the idea of him not spending the night. Remy had explained it firmly one night. "Sex we can find a place f'. Sleepin' needs y' in the bed. Y' get too freaked out, m' room's just down the hall. Y' can take it over." Then, the younger man had prompted curled up in the middle of the bed and closed his eyes. Scott hadn't bothered to leave since.

He considered the past, shit, six months, he guessed. He still wasn't sure what he was doing curled up with the lovers. He felt like an interloper. Logan and Remy seemed to have a routine without even talking about it. And then there was the fact that they'd exchanged vows at some point and not bothered to tell anyone. He stroked Remy's hair gently. They were great friends and probably would be great lovers, he just didn't know how to approach the relationship. Remy teased him and Logan flirted with him, but Scott wasn't sure how to respond yet. Sure, he'd kiss either of them quite happily, but he'd always been fine with that. He sighed and closed his eyes to settle into sleep. He's worry about it later. It was enough that they could be happy just being together.

****

Remy settled on the back porch with a cigarette. He was bored. He was lonely. Scott was holed up working on some report. He sighed out a breath of smoke. Time to get to work, boy, he told himself firmly. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get to your books. He finished up the cigarette and threw the butt into the air letting it explode there. He glanced at Scott's closed door as he passed by it. He made a face at the polished wood.

He changed into what he thought of as his Summers-wannabe outfit: kakhi pants with a buttondown shirt. He threw on a brocade vest simply because he couldn't stand looking like Scott any more than he already did. Hank had done the tests to prove that he wasn't a Summers - much to Remy's relief. He pulled his hair back into a braid and slipped on his shades. He grabbed his backpack and car keys. He'd love to ride his bike, but he just couldn't let it be seen at the library. He laughed at himself as he threw his trenchcoat on. Rogue probably would have loved the look, he assessed glancing in the mirror. He gave his reflection the finger and went to track down a few still-elusive references.

****

Scott frowned at the empty bedroom. Remy hadn't been at dinner. He wasn't hiding out in Storm's loft or on the roof. He wasn't in Rogue's old room. He wasn't in Logan's room. Cerebro couldn't find him on the grounds, but that wasn't unusual. Scott sighed and shook his head. The Cajun would be back when he wanted to be. Scott turned and nearly ran into him. "Shit. Stop sneaking up on me."

"Well, it still is m' room, ain't it?" Remy chided with a mischievous grin. "Lookin' f' me?"

"Yeah. You weren't at dinner."

"Lost track of time."

"Where were you?"

"The museum."

"Should I worry."

"Non, just lookin'. They got a new exhibit up."

"Really? Paintings?"

"Sculpture actually. Mostly modern, but there some with actual talent there." Remy dropped his backpack on the bed. "Got t' get this costume off."

"I don't know. Looks. . . cute." Scott frowned. "Is that my shirt?"

"Non, well, mebbe." Remy unfastened the cuffs. "Can't tell sometimes. Y' leave one in here?"

"I can't remember. I don't see how I would. Unless it got into the wrong pile in the laundry room." Scott looked more closely. "No, it's got a pattern. Mine are plain."

"Ah." Remy got it off and changed into jeans and a tee-shirt. "That's better."

"Did you get dinner?" Scott had to ask. If Remy forgot to eat, he'd get cranky and Scott didn't want that.

"Oui. Stopped off in Salem. Y' seen Stormy lately? She asked m' t' pick up some magazines f' her."

"She's up in her loft, cooing at a tropical that's feeling poorly."

"Dat's m' Stormy," Remy said with a fond grin. "Y' gonna be in our room or y' office later?"

Scott sighed. "Back in my office. If I don't get the certs finished we're screwed."

"Certs?"

"For the school. Can't have a good cover if it doesn't hold up in court. Or in front of the IRS. So, I have more records to falsify. You teach French by the way. If anyone asks."

Remy laughed. He grabbed his backpack and headed up the stairs. Scott went back to his drudge work. Being crooked should be less work, he thought sourly.

//Scott,// the professor chided.

//Hey, no fair reading thoughts I'm not projecting.//

//I was just checking in and they were at the surface of your mind. Now, is Gambit back?//

//He is. Why?//

//You were thinking about him at dinner.//

//Sir, why are you spying on me again? I'm not going to go doing something stupid.//

//I was trying to make sure you hadn't done him in.//

//Why would I do that?//

//Jealousy.//

//Over Logan?//

//Of course Logan. Or perhaps it is his freedom you're jealous of.//

//Sir, do you want me to not pursue this realtionship? Is that what you're trying to say?//

//I support anything that makes you happy and calms you down. It's just that you don't seem very happy.//

//I am happy. I'm enjoying it emensely. But sometimes I wonder if I'm just intruding.//

//Have you spoken with them about it?//

//Maybe when Logan's back. Remy'd just roll his eyes at me and tell me I'm being an idiot.//

//Very well. How are the papers coming?//

//It's like swimming through mud. I hate legalese.//

//Have a good night, Scott.// Scott could hear Charles' laughter skitter through his mind.

//Yeah, screw you too, sir.//

****

Jean stretched. "Hi, Remy. Storm's in the shower."

"Just droppin' off some books f' her." Remy fished the magazines out of his pack and left them on her desk. "Next time she can get 'em herself."

"How do you get your braid straight?"

"Hehn? Oh, practice. Y' don't never braid y'rs. I braid mine f' workin'. So tell me, chere, how'd y' get Scott int' bed the first time?"

Jean blinked. "You mean sex or sleeping?"

"Sex."

She opened her mouth, then closed it, thinking. "I remember kissing being involved and some sort of wine." She grinned. "After that it gets rather fuzzy."

"Well, wine I can manage. And kissin' ain't a problem." Remy sighed. "Most like he's just scared. We'll work on it some." He shrugged. "Y' take good care of Stormy, hear?"

Jean gave him a little salute. Her eyes were twinkling. "The famous Gambit charm isn't working on Scott?"

"Don't charm folks I actually care about." He rolled his eyes at her. "Y' such a silly femme sometimes."

The telepath was taken aback by that. "Your charm really is a power then? I thought Storm was just exagerrating."

"Oui. Henri reckons it's actually empathy or somet'in' like that." Remy shrugged. "Hypnosis mebbe. I was raised a con-artist though, so likely it's part of that too. Sometimes I wish mon pere hadn' been so firm 'bout not usin' it. Would've kept Roguie here or mebbe Belle'd still love m'. Ah, ain't the t'ing to talk about." Remy shook his head, bangs flopping. He looked younger than usual. Jean felt old just looking at him. He left without another word. Jean stared after him. Logan had been good for him. She smiled suddenly. Scott would be even better. The three of them just needed to get away. She'd have to talk to Logan about actually using his Christmas present.

****

Remy lay on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, not seeing it. He could feel the pull of the bed's molecules, the ceiling above, the structure of the house. He freed his charm from its cage and felt all of the team. He wanted to cry. He'd worked so hard to get his charm under control. Now it was stronger than it had been. He didn't want to have to readjust every year. Maybe it was using it that had increased its power? He let himself feel all of them. Even the telepaths' emotions were readable. He closed his eyes and drew in the tendrils that had reached out to his teammates. He locked them down one by one until he only had Warren's left. He sampled a little of the pain and rage. He pulled it in and away. It wasn't physical pain to Warren, but that's how Remy felt it. Tears leaked from his eyes. He couldn't do more than a few seconds. It was too strong. He cut the link, leaving a small piece of energy there, to fill the hole from the pain he'd taken away. He curled into a ball and let the pain run through him. It burned for a few minutes, but eased and dissipated. He shivered.

****

"Hank, it's just a question. I know what Gambit did to get this feather back to normal, I just wanted to know if there was a way to do it medically. I don't feel like having him turn my wings into a bomb just to have feathers, okay?" Warren rolled his eyes. "Christ, lighten up."

Hank settled his glasses on his nose. "This is the first time you've come to me with this request. I have to do some research before I answer you. Now, let me take a sample, and I'll get to work."

"Get that needle away from me."

"I need a sample from your wings to see how they are fused to you back."

Warren's wings twitched. "I don't think your needle will go through. Bullets don't."

"If I were taking it from the wing, probably not. What I'm going to do is take the sample from the attachment site."

"Blue, just, be gentle?"

Hank smiled. He patted Warren's shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm used to needle-phobic patients. I'm using a very fine needle. Tell me, did you get that newest patent through the system yet?"

"God no. We're going to court over it. The asshole has decided that his contract didn't cover R&D that was done in my lab. Excuse me? He used our equipment and money to do the research and we don't get a say on the patent? My lawyers are chomping at the bit. We're counter-suing him."

"All done. Wasn't that easy? I'm sorry to hear that you're having trouble with it."

"Thanks, Blue. I know I've been a little slow on the uptake on this, but if it could work, if I could get my real wings back. . ."

"I know," Hank said quietly. "I completely understand."

****

Scott wrapped Remy in his arms. The young man was having a nightmare. He was shaking. Scott held tight, knowing that waking him would be worse than letting him ride it out. Eventually, after what seemed like centuries, the young man stilled. Scott stroked his lover's back, soothing tense muscles. Remy's eyes flickered open, glowing slightly in the gloom. "Scotty?"

"Yes. It's okay. Go back to sleep." Remy sighed and closed his eyes. He fell asleep a moment later. Scott held him, feeling tears pricking at his eyes. Damn it all, why couldn't someone have protected him better? No one deserved the nightmares that rocked his lovers' sleeps. "I love you," he whispered softly into the sleeping man's ear.

****

Remy scrubbed at his face with one hand, attempting to wake up enough for morning practice. "Scotty, I'm gonna have t' kill y', y' keep this early mornin' bullshit goin'," he muttered darkly over his coffee. Scott ignored him as usual.

"Okay, people, attention. We've got work to do. Basic situational combat today. I have three sectors mapped out, there is a different challenge in each sector. We'll be doing partnership work. Gambit, Angel, you're up first for sector 1. Beast, Phoenix, you start in sector 2. Psylocke, Iceman, you get sector three. We'll cycle through. Storm, you're with me on controls."

Remy passed his coffee to Storm. He raised a brow at Angel. Angel shrugged. "After you," the businessman said. Gambit straightened his shoulders, and scouted the first sector. It was a sewer system. Great, he thought to himself. Just fucking great. Nightmares tonight, I can already tell.

****

"Henri?"

Hank looked up in surprise at the unexpected voice. Remy was standing in the doorway of the lab. That was as far in as the Cajun would come if he weren't there to talk to someone who was in recovery. "Yes, my friend?"

"Ange said t' talk t' you 'bout how his wings work. I can't figure it out. They warm like they real wings. The run off his blood, non? But they metal. Ain't like the coating on Logan's bones. It's like fluid metal. I don' know how that can be." Hank turned to face his guest. He gestured for the young man to come in. The thief hesitated at the threshold. The doctor didn't take it personally.

"I'm working on that puzzle. The answer in short, I suppose, is that I simply don't know how they work yet."

Remy fidgited, playing with the collar of his coat. "It's just that, well, Sinister's skin ain't warm like that. Got t' be the same technology though. Makes him impervious t' bullets and all. Just it ain't warm at all. It's like touchin' a corpse."

"Really?" Hank's interest was peaked now. "Are you sure you won't come in and sit down?"

Remy hesitated for a long moment. Hank could see the fight in his eyes and his shifting posture. He was quiet, not pressuring the younger man at all. He wanted to cheer as Remy joined him in the lab. "Come into my office." The smaller room seemed to calm that Cajun. There was no lab equipment in here, just a library of journals and books, a computer, and a couple of comfortable chairs. Remy settled in the smaller chair. He twisted a free length of hair around his finger, not looking at the larger man. "Sinister's skin is cold?"

"Oui."

"What is the texture like?" Remy hesitated, pondering that for a moment. The two ended up talking for over three hours.

****

Remy collapsed onto the couch next to Scott. He dropped his head onto his lover's shoulder, but didn't say anything. Scott continued to channel surf. He didn't seem to be having much sucess. Remy basked in the certainty that he was safe and welcome. He breathed in Scott's scent and tried to banish the lingering effects of his trip to the lab. He was tired. He closed his eyes and let himself sleep. When he woke about half an hour later, his head was in Scott's lap. Scott was stroking his arm gently as he flipped through a magazine. Remy snuggled closer. "I know you're awake," Scott stated.

"So?"

"So, if you're tired, let's go to bed, not sleep on the couch. Trust me, this thing is not as comfortable as it looks."

The Cajun snickered at that. It was no secret that when they'd fought, Scott had ended up sleeping in the den. His own room had been turned into storage while they were refurbishing things and he hadn't converted it back. Scott was changing that. He'd already set it up with a bed and dresser. It was still decorated with posters of rockers and the occasional pinned up post-card though. It looked like the teenage room it had been when he'd moved in with Jean. "Oui, we head upstairs. Y' plannin' on movin' in with Logan?"

"You first," Scott challenged.

Remy let the topic drop. He slept in Logan's room and had some clothes there, but he hadn't moved in yet. Logan hadn't pushed him too hard about it. He wondered, idly, if the Canadian knew that he was reluctant to give up the only place that was strictly his. "So let's go on up. Y' sure y' don't want t' bring some clothes in at least?"

"Oh, I'm not that stubborn. Not like you." Scott smirked. "It took what? Six months for you to start leaving clothes up there?"

"Connard," Remy muttered. "Come on then." He got up and stretched. He sauntered toward the door.

****

The next morning was dreary. Steel grey skies threatened rain. Remy curled up on the library window-seat to watch the sky. He was hoping for rain. He had a security manual open in his lap, but he wasn't really looking at it. Warren opened the door. The older man stood there a moment. Remy watched his reflection in the glass, trying to figure out what his expression meant.

"Remy?"

"Oui?"

"Could you try something for me?"

Remy turned around, trying not to look as wary as he felt. "Quoi?"

"Can you see if you can charge the metal particles in one of my feathers while it's still attached?"

Terror flashed through the thief's mind. "I don' want t' hurt y'."

"If it hurts, I'll tell you to stop."

Remy bit at his lip. He hadn't been expecting anything like that. He thought for a long moment. "Oui," he said finally. "Y' goin' t' have t' come closer, cher," he said. He obviously wasn't the only one nervous about this. Warren crossed the endless distance between them. Remy thought he could see the air molecules dancing around Warren as he moved. Maybe it was just because time seemed to have slowed to a crawl. Remy came up with forty different excuses in the time it took the businessman to cross the room, but he swallowed them all. How could he say no to a pain that he'd helped to create?

Warren spread out one wing. Remy selected a feather near the bottom. He closed his eyes to concentrate. Warren's pain and fear battered at him. Warren had said that he'd speak up if it hurt, but still. Remy opened his eyes a slit. There was no distress on Warren's face. This pain was so natural and so consistent that the man didn't feel it. Remy closed his eyes again and tried to focus on the metal. He couldn't managed to do just that. He wrapped the pain in pleasure, drawing hard on his memories of Logan and even some of Belle. Warren shivered, but didn't speak. That was better. Even if he was making the man want him, it was better than him hurting. Remy sought out the metal molecules, separating them easily from the living tissue by their feel. He only let them explode when they were near the surface.

****

Warren couldn't seem to think straight. He sniggered to himself at that mental pun. He knew he didn't want Gambit. He recognized the feeling that seemed to wash over him. It often touched him when Remy was too focussed on one thing. The theif's shields were slip-shod and sometimes his "charm" leaked out. Warren assumed it was some sort of defense mechanism. Much like a chameleon's coloring. You didn't want to hurt the man when all you could think about was how good he'd look in your bed. He ignored the lust as he always did. Most people in the house were used to it. The professor had told them how to do that when Remy had fallen ill for the first time.Warren had to smile. It was hard to remember that it was Gambit in front of him. He kept thinking it was Betsy. His wings were filled with warmth. He closed his eyes. The warmth was creeping all through his body. He didn't fight it.

****

Remy gritted his teeth, fighting down the pain that coursed through his body like acid. He wanted to scream, but knew it would do no good. There was nothing physical about it. And there was no way to shut it down. He was so close. The last bits of metal were calling to him and he'd eradicate them if it were the last thing he did. His hand was numb. The last of the metal was gone. Remy's fingers opened. He wavered as the feedback loop of pain snapped and caught him with its swirling, whiplike edge. It cut into him. He didn't feel the floor when he hit.

****

Warren staggered. He couldn't focus. All he knew was that there was something wrong. He'd take care of it after he. . . no, he shook himself. He forced his eyes open. Gambit was sprawled at his feet. "Cerebro, call Hank to the library. It's an emergency." Warren sat down heavily on the floor, wings out-spread to shelter his fallen teammate, not knowing what else to do.

****

Jean sat bolt upright. She dashed out of Storm's room, not bothering to even pull her shirt on. She hit the library at the same time Hank did. She didn't know what to think. The picture in front of her was something out of a prayer-book. An angel stood guard over a sleeping man. She shook her head. The etheric traces in the room screamed out in utter agony mixed with complete bliss. She shivered. Something had happened here and she couldn't figure out what it was. "I'll take Remy, you get Warren," she said quietly.

****

"Let me check him over first," Hank stated. He knelt down to take Remy's pulse and check for wounds. His pulse was weak and erratic. His eyes were reacting to light, but he was unconscious without any signs of violence. He glanced up at Warren, who's eyes were glazed. "We're going to the med-lab now, Warren," he said carefully.

"Huh?" Warren's eyes were unfocussed, but there was no evidence of injury. But his skin was it's original shade of pink and his wings were snowy white. Hank was knew how the scene had likely played out. Remy had continued his discussion of the bio-mechanics and wanted to investigate in his own unique way and something had gone wrong. It was a theory at least. Jean gathered Remy up in a TK bubble while Hank steadied Warren.

****

"What's wrong with them?" Scott demanded harshly. "They were both fine at lunch-time."

"Well, there's absolutely nothing wrong with Warren besides a minor concussion. His wings are white. His skin is pink again. And he can't seem to stop smiling. Betsy's watching him for signs of anything else. Remy on the other hand, is in a coma for no apparent reason. His heart-rate has evened out, but he's persistantly not awake. Jean is with him, trying to see if she can get through his shields to check for damage." Hank sighed. "He was trying to figure out how Warren's wings work yesterday." Hank paused.

"And?"

"And he's much smarter than he lets on. We talked for three hours. He'd found a puzzle and wanted to solve it. It's part of being a thief I think. He just likes puzzles."

"There's something you haven't told me, Hank."

The doctor sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "He's let slip a few things, but I don't have any concrete evidence."

"Hank."

"His powers are getting stronger. They have been ever since you were kidnapped. I'm beginning to believe that that night was a three ring circus. He distracted us once by kidnapping you, which we thought was so that he could capture Rogue and Bobby. Now, I'm beginning to think that both of those were smokescreens so that we would believe that the substance Remy was injected with was merely a sedative geared for his genetic type. I think that the sedative has actually started to increase his powers. He uses his empathy much more freely now and given what he accomplished with Warren, my guess is that his bio-kinetic charge has also strengthened. We'll know more if Jean is sucessful in reaching him."

Scott nodded sharply. He stepped into the lab quietly. His presence never seemed to disturb Jean when she was working. She was wearing a sports-bra and her jeans. Scott raised a brow, but ignored that. He'd have to get her a sweater or something if she stayed down here. She'd be freezing after coming out of trance. He settled into a visitor's chair. Jean was sitting on the bed with Remy's head in her lap. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and waited.

****

Logan stalked into the house. "Where is he?" he demanded of Bobby as passed the den.

"Med-lab. Jean, Scott and Warren are there too."

"They all hurt?"

"No. Warren and Remy only. Scott's waiting on prognosis and Jean's making sure there's no psychic damage." Bobby's voice was clipped. Logan ignored it. He headed for the med-lab. He'd known something was wrong when Remy wasn't in the front hall to welcome him back. He'd called the kid earlier to let him know when he'd be home. The only way he'd not be there was if he were on a mission or hurt.

"Hello, Logan."

"What's wrong with my boy, Hank?"

"He's unconscious. We think it's psychic not physical. Don't worry. Jean's working on a more definitive explination for us," the doctor replied. "Don't irritate her," he ordered. "Although, she doesn't have a shirt on, so you may want to watch her work."

Logan snorted. The levity did nothing to make him feel better. He slunk into the room. He settled on the floor in a lotus position. He nodded a greeting to Scott, but had the impression that his other lover was listening to something. He was more than likely playing Jean's anchor for the moment.

****

Jean looked at the city around her. It was clogged with thick, acrid smoke and howling screams. Sirens blared from unseen street-corners. She wanted to run and hide herself. There was an overwhelming stench of fear and rage under the smoke. She didn't know where she was, just that she had to keep moving. A hand grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. When she looked down, the pavement was cracked. She'd have fallen into a deep chasm. She turned to thank the person who'd pulled her out, but couldn't find anyone. //Thanks, Scott,// she murmered. He had a tendency to use their link that way. She ventured down a side alley, more wary now. She had to find a way to the center of the city or, failing that, so something that looked like a place Remy would hide away.

The smoke stung her eyes and she didn't bother to stop herself from feeling it. She needed to know what had caused it all. This was the strangest manifestation she'd ever been involved in. "Jeannie?" a soft voice called from a dark doorway. "Jeannie, it's not that way. Turn around."

"What's not that way, Remy?"

"The house. It's in the Quarter, not by the river. Papa's real house is out in the bayou."

"What happened here, Remy?"

"I. . . I ain't sure." The young man stepped out where she could see him. His eyes were wide, bewildered. "I ain't sure how I know you either," he said softly. "Except that your name is familiar." He stared at her. "Oh, you, you're the Phoenix. I studied your file. Fascinating."

"Gambit," Jean said with a frown.

"Oh, no, no, I'm Remington Montgomery. I'm not real, you know that right? I stay here, with the files. I help him find answers when he needs them. This smoke is going to ruin everything. We've already lost some things. He's at the house. Or maybe hiding at Papa's."

"Which way do I go, Remington?" she asked, understanding the construct for what it was. Some people had them.

"Turn left at the end of the alley. There should be someone to help there. There might be a Maruader at the theatre, but he probably won't help you unless it's a fight. The doctor always wanted him to fight."

"I'm not associated with the doctor," she said. "Did the doctor come in here often?"

"On occasion. He helped rebuild the streets once. After that, it got harder to find things. I started forgetting things. He put up roadblocks that I can't go past. Go, I've got to make sure the files don't burn."

Jean left. Her heart ached. She was beginning to understand why Remy couldn't stand telepaths. Maybe she could ease the pain. Where would he go? To his own house, or his father's? she asked herself. She turned left and kept going, hoping that "Remington" wasn't just trying to confuse her. She was getting used to the smoke, but her chest hurt and her eyes were watering. She took one more step, pushing through some sticky area of resistence, then stumbled. The air here was clear and bright. She ran towards the house she saw wavering in the distance. She made the stairs before it disappeared. "Let me in, Remy. I'm here to help." The front door opened. Remy peered out at her.

"Jeannie? Why you here, girl?"

"We can't get you to wake up and I can see why. I need your help. I need to know what happened."

"I can't explain it. I'm sorry. Please go away."

"Remington said the files are being affected," she said bluntly. The door opened quickly.

"Non. I can't afford that." Remy stepped out. He was dressed in neat green suit with a black shirt. His coat of arms was embroidered on the pocket of the shirt. He was wearing the ring Logan had given him and his wedding band. There was a signit ring on his thumb.

"You can't just hide away here."

Remy looked mournfully back at his house.

Jean put out her hand and he took it warily. She led him toward the clouds.

"I can't go back out there, chere, it hurts too bad."

"We won't go out, but I have to be closer to it. You need to tell me what happened."

"I was tryin' to purify one of Warren's feathers. He was hurting so bad that I had to wrap it up before I could concentrate. Then, when I stopped touchin' him, the pain got worse instead of better. Except it was in here. It'll ease in awhile. I done it for Scott too, but Logan wouldn't let me do it for more than a few minutes. Keeps his headaches away though and neither of them yell at me for that."

Jean paused. "And you did the same for my shoulders the other day."

"Oui." Remy shrugged. He frowned at the smoke. "The most important bits are in the house, but the files. I worked hard to learn all that." They stopped at the edge between the estate and the street. Jean saw there was a wrought iron gate there now. "Got to air it out, I guess," Remy's voice was dispondent. "If I open up my shields I'll go crazy. Happened once before I could catch hold of it. I got lost in it all."

"I'll be with you. I'll keep a shield up while you let yours down. Once this is gone, you can bring your shields back up and I'll let mine down. That will let it go. You'll need to rest for awhile after that." Remy wasn't listening to her anymore. He was staring into the smoke. He reached through the bars of the gates to touch something out there. She could just make out the outline of a person in the smoke.

"You take her along now," he said to the figure. "She don't know me."

"Come on, chere."

Jean's head was starting to spin, but she was beginning to understand. "You aren't Remy."

The young man smiled at her. "I am and I'm not. I'm Remy's history. I can answer all the questions, but in the end, you have to talk to Remy."

Jean stepped through the gate into the smoke. "Hello, Remy," she said. This one grinned at her.

"How many times y' said that, chere?"

"You're the third. I'm hoping you're really the one I need."

"Oui, chere. Glad you didn't run into the Marauder. He'd have just tried to mess you up." He offered his arm. "Why y' in here anyway?"

"You're unconscious."

"I am?" He blinked at her, eyes glowing dully in the haze. He looked around. "T'ought mebbe it was just a headache. Hurts pretty bad, but I t'ought I was just curled up somewhere waitin' it out. Was strange t' hear that y' was here."

"Which one called you?"

"A trap y' set off."

"This is causing damage, Remy. We need to get it out. It's like a poison."

He frowned at her. "But won't it just hurt someone else? I can process it. Jus' it take time."

"You see those cracks? This is how your mind is representing the damage. This is neurological damage, Remy. You can't just let it stay. The pain isn't dangerous to anyone who isn't an empath. Take down your shields. Mine are up. Air it out. I'll hold everything else out."

He swallowed. He looked at her. "If Logan didn't trust y' so, I wouldn't be doin' this." His shields collapsed in on themselves.

****

Remy convulsed once, then lay completely still again. Logan's concentration broke. He wanted nothing more than to grab Remy and hold him. He knew better than to disturb the rapport that Jean had established. Scott was slumped in his seat, but Logan couldn't tell if he was sleeping or not. The smell of Remy's fear overwhelmed all of the other scents in the room. Jean's eyes eased open. "Tell Hank to bring in a psi-containment unit," she said quietly. There were tears on her face, but her eyes were clear. She stroked Remy's forehead. "You can't sit with him right now, he's too fragile. I need you both to leave."

Scott nodded. He took off his flannel and draped it over her shoulders. She nodded an absent thanks. He left the room. Logan followed, still worried. "Hank, Jean wants a psi unit in there." Hank nodded. He went to get it from the equipment room. Logan resisted the urge to get it for him. He was half Hank's size. Hank also knew where the fucking thing was. Logan settled into a chair in the waiting room and picked up a magazine at random. It was a Genetics journal. He growled at it and dropped it back on the table. "I'll get some beer. You want me to bring the paper?"

"Yeah. And I want to know what the fuck happened."

Scott nodded. "I'll fill you in on what I know in a minute. I really need a beer first."

Logan watched the proceedings through the open door. The psi-shield would make it possible for Remy to be protected if his shields fell. Logan had a funny feeling that they already had, but Jean was covering for him. She was watching Remy's face with a small frown of concentration, her hands resting on his temples. He didn't want to question her. But he did want to be in there, holding Remy's hand or stroking his hair from his brow. He wanted to do all the sappy romantic crap that he'd always teased Scott about doing. He settled deeper into the chair with a low growl.

****

Scott opened his third beer and stared down at the toes of his boots. Why was there never a battle when he wanted one? This was getting morose. Remy was in a coma, Logan was growling, and he wasn't even half-way drunk yet. He wanted to shake Remy awake or blast Logan into the wall to shut him up. What he did was take another slug of beer and lean back in his chair. Jean was still in with Remy and he could feel the buzz of their conversation in his head. He couldn't make out the words, but he could feel them. It was starting to grate on his nerves. He started when Logan's arm wrapped around him, pulling him closer on the cheap vinyl couch they had in the waiting room. He let his head drop to rest on top of Logan's. He could feel the wiry hair under his cheek and he could smell gasoline, pine, and cigar smoke. He closed his eyes to better appreciate the smell. Logan's arm tightened around his waist. He didn't resist the closeness.

****

Logan's nostrils flared as Scott actually fell asleep against him. Finally. Scott had been hiding his agitation well, but Logan could smell it. There had been fear there, and anger, and something he didn't know too well. It was something very Scott-like about it. It might have been his powers or it might have been his stress. Logan just didn't know the boy's head well enough to guess yet. He let Scott's warmth seep into his side and closed his eyes just for a second.

****

Jean shivered in the barren streets. With the smoke gone, she could see the the cracks in the road and the damage to the buildings. "Do you feel up to helping with some repairs?" she asked her companion. Remy was wearing jeans and a tee-shirt under his trench. He wasn't wearing jewelry, except for the ring Logan had given him and a diamond stud in his ear.

"Define 'repairs.'"

Jean was shocked by the suspicious tone. "Fixing the damage."

Remy snorted. "Right. I been down this road before, chere."

His accent was so much lighter here. Of course it only made sense. He didn't think with an accent. It was still strange. "With the doctor. I heard."

"Who told you that, girl?"

"Remington."

"Oh," his face softened. "Hope he's alright."

Jean raised a brow. "Do you consider him a separate person?"

"Non, just a useful construct. He's a character. An assistant. I used to pretend for Papa sometimes. Then later, for the doctor and a few others. He's smart. I think Henri would like him." Remy shrugged. "What you going to do?"

"You're going to do it. I'm just here to guide you. We'll start with this crack here."

"Okay?" Remy stared at her. He was fiddling with the earring. Damn. She'd never recognized that mannerism for what it was. "Now what?"

"Now, I want you to focus on it. Repair the damage underneath. This is your world, your will, you can mold it any way you like."

He chewed at his lip. "Just think it?"

"Yes and believe that you can do it. That's it. See it's changing already." And it was, the cobbles were settling down into place. His face was strained.

"It hurts, Jeannie," he said softly. "Do I got to do this for all of them?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"So that you can think when you wake up. If you do it now, while you're still this deeply asleep, then it will be easier."

"Oh." He reached for her hand then, and she took it. His fingers were shaking. "Le Docteur, he didn't want me doing things like this."

"Well, I can say with certainty that the doctor didn't have your interests in mind. He wanted to be able to control you. If you don't learn to repair the damage by yourself, you'll be dependent on him forever."

"You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?"

"I can't do this stuff anymore. After the accident, I just can't."

"Accident?"

"The theater. I brought it down on my head. And then the hospital. He took me to the lab and the pain just stopped. I couldn't think as clear, but he made it so that I didn't have to worry about going to sleep and killing someone because I didn't control it! It was so hard to come back here though. And Remington started losing files. He says there are locks he can't undo, which I know is a lie 'cause there ain't no lock in the world should hold for him. The doctor tricked him into believing couldn't get through and I can't change it! Why is it so easy to talk to you here?" The suspicion was back.

"Maybe because you can't lie here and I can't lie to you."

"Won't. Charles lies here all the time and so does the doctor." He grinned at her. "I ain't gonna buy your bullshit, Jeannie. I know damn well you got too much power here for me to fight you." He shrugged. "There's a reason I don't like spooks, present company included."

She smacked his shoulder, knowing he was teasing her. "Now, hush, or I'll get Emma Frost in here to deal with you, young man."

His eyes drifted for a moment. "Emma," he frowned. "Oh, I remember her. Pretty little diamond thing that fucks with people's heads. I wanted to grab her once when she was a diamond. Just imagine what she'd look like on display like that." He sighed. "She rapped my knuckles but good for it." He snapped back to reality. "I'm getting weird, chere."

"You always were. Let's get a little more done, then we'll rest. I don't want you to wake up though. I'm going to have Hank give you a sedative."

"Why not?"

"Because I'll never get you deep enough if you aren't in a coma. You just won't trust me enough."

"Ah, you know me so well, chere." He shook his head. His arm jerked. He looked down at it, then rubbed at it. "I think Henri done went and already drugged me."

"Rest for a bit. I'll be back soon, sweetie." She kissed his cheek and left him there. She opened her eyes to see Hank setting up an IV. "Keep him in a coma for me. There's a lot of damage to undo. And keep the boys outside. He's too fragile to be around them right now. I know Logan will want to see him, but he can't have anyone in here."

Hank glared over his glasses at her. "Shall I make up the other bed? Scott brought down some dinner for you."

"I'll just crash on it like it is. Shit, I should tell Storm."

Hank blinked at her and she blushed. "I see more than just one habit of our Fearless Leader has rubbed off on you."

"Actually, the no cursing rule is because I used to curse like a sailor. It's not a good thing to make the boys you're fighting with blush. Can you keep him under or do I need to plant a suggestion."

"No, the hypnotics will keep him quiet. And the lavender."

"Lavender?"

"Catnip. Logan informed me that catnip will put our sweet, medically resistant Cajun to sleep."

"I always thought he was like a big cat." Jean stroked the young man's hair out of his face. "Why does he get to look so innocent when he sleeps. I know he isn't."

"God works in mysterious ways. The food's on the tray. Nothing that could go bad. Do you want me to set an alarm for you?"

"No, just let me sleep until I wake up. Then I'll get back to work. I think he'll need the time anyway."

****

Remy looked around the city streets. He shivered. "How did I get so cold?" he asked the air. "There's nothing here. No color. No music. This isn't home."

A quiet snort came from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at what he knew would be there. Of all the parts of his mind, the one he hated to face was the Marauder. Well, that wasn't true. He just didn't like to admit that they were one and the same. "So, the fillie's going to straighten this place up for you? About time. What's the good of banging the boss if you don't get some pull?"

"I'm not screwing him yet, so. . ." he shrugged. "What's the damage look like really?"

"Well, you're whipped, stupid, lazy, and incompetent, but that's normal."

Remy rolled his eyes heavenward. He didn't take the insults personally. "So?"

"Remington ain't lost anything important. There's a few details of scams and stuff that's long gone and a couple of things from being with the doctor. We won't miss any of it. There's cracks all over the place and it's hard to get around though. You should let the pretty lady finish up. We'll repair what we can, then fight some of the crap the doc put in. I don't think we need it. Never did. Then, you need to get out of this team, boy. It's going to get you killed."

"I won't leave Logan like that."

"You really think this is going to end up any better than Belle? or Chatton? Or Rogue? Or Genny? Get real. You were better off fucking Flip. At least she defends herself."

"Logan can defend himself just fine. We ain't talking about that. I just want to know what's been damaged. Any skill-sets we need to fix?"

The Marauder considered. He put a cigarette to his lips. "Not that I seen. Just, I got a feeling that there's things hurt I don't know about. Have been ever since those fucking bugs got into our system."

"Bugs?"

"The shit that unmade the doc's handy-work. You serious about staying with Logan? I mean, you were serious about Chatton too and look how well that turned out."

"I never meant to marry the bastard, just have some fun. Ain't my fault he got his heart broke. I was told he didn't have one. Stop changing the subject. The dis?"

"Is fine. I told you, Remington didn't loose anything important. Now, you rest up, I'll keep watch. I always do."

Remy smiled without mirth. "When Jeannie comes back you get me up. You ain't talking to her, d'accord?"

"Got it, boss."

"Merde, starting to sound like Riptide there."

The Marauder shook his head and continued to smoke. Remy let himself fade away.

****

Logan growled softly as he became aware of someone else in the room. He looked up and found Hank watching them from the door of his office with a fond smile. "What?"

"He looks so sweet when he's asleep," Hank said. "Then he wakes up and you're running danger room sessions."

"What was that, Blue? You wanted another session today? Well, I don't know, given you've got patients, but I'll see what I can work out," Scott said, not lifting his head from where it had settled on Logan's hair. Logan snorted. "How is he?"

"He's in a coma and Jean thinks he needs to stay that way until she can undo the damage that was done to his mind. I find telepaths are much better at repairing neurological damage than surgeons."

Logan snorted. "What happened?"

"He purified, for lack of a better word, Warren. He destroyed all traces of Apocolypse's handywork and returned Warren to his original angelic self. Then, he collapsed. Jean will give us a full report of the psychic damage when she's done repairing it. You two may not see him."

"We'll be quiet," Logan protested.

"I don't bother 'paths, never have," Scott said with a frown.

"Doctor's orders. Go upstairs and go to bed. We'll call you when he can have visitors. It may be a few days, understood?"

"Yeah," Logan growled. "I hear ya, Blue. If you don't treat him right, I'll skin ya. Come on, Scooter, up. You can bitch about the hangover later."

"I don't get hung-over," the field leader mumbled as he levered himself up. "The beer we keep ain't that good."

"Then steal Chuck's scotch next time." Logan felt Scott's hand settle lightly on his shoulder, the way it did when he didn't have his shades. It was an old habit and Logan took it as the sign of trust it was. Once he got the younger man up to his bed and tucked him in, he let himself out the back door onto the porch to smoke and think. His stomach clenched. Christ, what would he do if Remy never woke up? What if there was some damage that Jean couldn't undo? He knew Remy. He knew that the boy was already scared because he'd lost some of his memories, some of his ability to think. What would he do if he were trapped with some damage that made it impossible for him to do his job? Remy'd die before he gave up theiving. Logan shivered.

His lover was so full of life, intelligence, laughter despite all the negatives he's seen in his life. How would he handle it if something damaging happened? What if he lost his. . . no, Logan stopped himself. The only thing to focus on was the fact that Jean was going to help him and Remy would be back. He'd be strong and funny and intelligent. They'd go dancing and force Scott to eat sushi and live as fully as they could. But first, Logan would take them camping. He'd get both of his boys out of the stifling confines of the mansion and into the woods. Scott would enjoy it and Remy would need the solitude of it. He smirked. And who knows what they'd be able to get up to out in the woods with no mother-hens looming over them or "interested parties" gossiping behind their backs. Logan grinned to himself, pleased with the plan.

****

Jean yawned and stretched. Then, she settled into the chair behind Remy and started the next session. "Hey, gorgeous," Gambit purred in her ear. She felt a hand stroke down her side. She turned with fury screwing her lips tight.

"Remy," she snapped.

"Non, he's asleep. Just you and me right now. Don't worry. I want this place patched up. And I want the shit the doc done gone. Didn't want it in the first place," the young man in front of her was sulky, but she could read the danger in his eyes. She shivered.

"You're the Marauder. Do I have more work than I thought?"

"What?" The young man cocked his head to the side, bewildered. "Oh, you mean me? Someone's got to look of for us. I'm his. . . conscience." The smile was slimy smirk. "Don't know why he ain't taken more than a kiss from you. I wouldn't let you go."

Jean glared at the young man, unimpressed. He couldn't hurt her here. She was too stong and she'd seen worse. Hell, Scott had said worse to her over the years when he was mad. He'd thought worse at her when he was just horny. She could take anything Gambit's shadows threw at her. The young man stroked her cheek gently. "I think Riptide'd like you. He always did go for spitfires. Let's get this shit done. You can work on the doc's shit first. Then, when lover boy stops dreaming about your husband you can make him work on the rest of it."

"Sinister would be the doctor?"

"'Course. Who else?"

"What should I call you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Remy? Remington? Gambit?"

"Ace, I suppose." He frowned. "We're the same person, just sometimes he needs to sleep while I keep gaurd. Got to keep something pure 'round here. He's the idiot that thought fuckin' Creed was a good idea. Tried to talk him out of it." Ace shrugged. "Just a sub-routine me. I get all the dirty jobs."

"You're the thief?"

"What? Non." Ace stared at her. "You think bein' a theif is dirty? You need to get out more, girl. Especially if you think that's the worst thing I ever done." He shook his head. "Let me show you some of the doc's handywork. Part of why I exist you know. We don't like thinking about what he made us do. You get this shit out of here, it'll be easier. Hell, I think the doc created Remington. Probably me too, when it comes down to it."

"You're the one who fights with Scott."

Ace laughed. It was a bitter sound. "Only when the boy's going about a job ass-backwards. Besides, if I fought with the doc's golden boy he wouldn't get up when I was done. God damned Summers bastard. Always better than anything else in the world. Worth more than me. Worth more than anyone. I'm so tired of it. I'm tired of being worthless next to the sainted Summers clan! Even Logan does it and we're married." Ace had started walking as he ranted.

"That's pretty bitter for a relatively happy person."

"What ever made you think we're happy?" Ace asked, voice soft and velvety. It slithered against her ears. She blinked. "First one's in there. Be careful. It bites."

Jean examined the jagged hole and warnings to turn back. She frowned. She used her TK to gently remove the warnings and destroy them. They were unnecessary. There was no damage behind them. It was nothing but an illusion. Ace stared as the street appeared. She smirked at him.

"Dangerous lady. I'm beginning to understand everyone's fascination with you."

"Show me the next one. If they're all illusions, this will be quick. If there's something more, then we'll worry. And you'll have to let him wake up soon."

"Non, he don't need to be around."

"He does. I can't fix the damage, only he can. I can just show him how."

That disturbed the shadow image enough to make him call Remy back. Jean sighed as Remy appeared, rubbing his eyes. It was going to be a long hard fight for healing.

****

"Wolverine," Cyclops snapped. "You going to be able to do this or do I take you off the team for now?"

Wolverine growled at the threat. "I'm fine," he snapped. "Just make sure I got something to tear into."

Cyclops watched the older man for a long moment, but Logan didn't drop his gaze or react in any other way. "Fine. As I was saying, I want Wolverine and Psylocke as backup. Angel, you and Beast take left. Iceman, you're with me on the right. At the signal, you go in low and hard. Wolverine, Psylocke, you come in. Remember this is a snatch and grab. We've got hostages to get out. Let's go."

****

"So, tell me, Remy, what other nefarious things have you gotten up to besides theiving?" Jean asked as they rested on the lawn in front of his main refuge.

Remy shrugged. It was an eloquent gesture that meant anything you wanted it to. "Well, theivin', drinking, scheming, murder, mayhem, and other things that the government's been known to pay for."

"The US government?" she clarified.

"Fury drops things in my direction now and again, and the Pentagon too. I ain't an assasin, but sometimes," he shrugged. "I ain't the kind to hire unless it's gonna cause political problems that I don't need."

"And the Morlocks?" she demanded harshly. She couldn't tell anyone what she learned here, but she needed to know.

Remy shuddered. "Don't talk about those tunnels. You don't got no idea."

"Then show me."

"No."

Jean turned her head to look at his profile. "Why not?"

"Took me three months of downers, a lot of running, and a lot of jobs that near unto killt me before I could walk around without going into flashbacks at every sharp noise or enclosed space. I ain't going to go opening myself up to that sort of thing again. And if'n you think the tunnels were bad, you don't know shit. They was just the topper. My sheilds crashed." Remy's voice was hard. "You stay out of my business, girl."

"Okay. Okay. Ace said something that worried me."

"Ace?"

"The other you I was with this morning."

"Ace?" Remy snickered. "Merde, ain't no body called me 'Ace' since Old Crow. Well, guess that fits then. He just me on my bad days. Don't worry so, chere, I ain't got a split personality or anythin'. Just need to keep things in different areas. Ain't gonna do for me to turn into a Marauder on a mission is it? Ain't gonna do for me to be an XMan when I'm fighting Creed. Got to keep my secrets in order."

"You don't need to keep secrets from us."

"Bullshit."

Jean closed her eyes. "You ready to get started again?"

"You ready to wipe your memory of this whole incident?" he asked with a smirk.

"Scouts honor, sweetie, no one will ever know. Not even Charles."

"They better not," he replied, eyes flashing. Jean shivered.

****

Cyclops paced as he debriefed his team. They extraction had gone well, all things considered. It was still helpful to review. "Okay, people, he said finally, "hit the showers and get some sleep. Danger Room at eight."

Bobby snorted. "Gambit's rubbing off on you. Thank God."

"You wanted a four a.m. session, Icecube? I can arrange it. Put you in with Hank."

"That's okay. Eight's good for me." Bobby smiled and left rapidly before Scott could change the time. The Cyclops mask cracked and Scott grinned at the retreating back.

"Yer a sadist, Slim."

"Why else would I put up with you? I've got to get my kicks somehow." Scott massaged his temples. His head was ready to explode. He sighed to himself. A sharp whistle made him wince. "What?"

"You still in there, Slim?"

"Yes."

"You want me to get something from Hank?"

Scott bit his lip, considering. He'd be unconscious for the night, not asleep if Hank gave him something. But at least he'd be able to conscentrate. "No," he said quietly. "I'll be okay. I'll just take some Excedrine and get some sleep."

Logan's hand settled on the side of Scott's neck with comforting warmth. "If you want something, I'll watch yer back while you sleep."

"When did you get to know me so well?"

Logan shrugged. "Come on, I'll get you something stronger than Excedrine. You go up and catch a shower. Do yer muscles good. I'll tuck you in." Logan leered.

Scott snorted. "Letch."

"Gotta get my kicks somehow." Scott rolled his eyes at the gentle teasing. He found a small smile.

"Okay. I'll let you fuss over me for now."

"Good."

****

Hank listened to Logan's request. He frowned. "Of course. Let me get a pill for him. Unless you feel comfortable giving him a shot?"

"Rather do the pill."

Hank nodded. He unlocked the cabinet where he kept the opiates and selected a bottle. He dropped one pill into a paper cup, then locked the bottle back up. "Here."

"Why you keep that locked, Blue? Ain't like nobody knows it's here?"

"DEA rules," Hank replied. He shrugged. "The one time I don't lock it is the one time we'll have a stranger in the house to get at it." He paused with a grimace. "Or perhaps someone like our young Cajun who might be induced to sell it for personal gain."

"Remy's not a dealer."

"Never said he was."

"You just did."

"No, someone like Remy might sell it. Someone who didn't have the moral upbringing he did. Someone who truly was brought up to be a thief."

Logan blinked. He held the cup in one hand. "Ya don't think he was brought up to be a thief?"

"Not completely. His upbringing seems very strict about certain procedures and manners. He's hiding his brain, Logan, and it drives me to distraction. He can sit down here and discuss philosophy with me over dinner, then walk out that door and turn into a doll with nothing but stuffing in his head! It's not right. Someone taught him that being smart was to be avoided and I want to know who damaged him that way. I don't think Remy would sell drugs, but the person he pretends to be in the War Room? Yes, that person would."

Logan nodded slowly. "I think I understand. It's an act, Blue."

"I know that. But he shouldn't be trying to con his friends!" Hank slapped a palm into the wall.

"We ain't." Logan heard the hurt in his voice and almost growled at himself. "We ain't his friends. He won't let us be. His friends just end up gettin' hurt."

"He let you give him a ring and made you a promise," Hank pointed out gently.

"That don't mean we're friends. Boy's got secrets, same as me. Just means he ain't gonna run around on me. 'cept with his wife. Or Rogue if she calls him. Or, hell, maybe his pet Feebie. But I think that one's just business. And he ain't gonna leave me without saying goodbye. That's all." Logan shrugged. He didn't know how to explain things any better than that. He knew he owned Remy's heart, but never his mind or his body. And the heart was good enough for him.

Hank looked at him with sad eyes. "You mean that too, don't you. You'd let him fuck anything that moves."

Logan was shocked by the language. He didn't know how to respond to that.

"If you don't hold him to a standard, he won't follow it, Logan. If you don't tell him what your expectations are, he can't meet them." There was a spark of anger in Hank's eyes now, the scent of it building in the air. "He doesn't understand, Logan. No one ever taught him how to maintain a relationship. He wants independence, but he needs to be held in the world. Don't let him push you away."

"You talk about this shit a lot?" Logan couldn't help the anger that was rising in his blood.

"Yes. Who else do you think he talks to? Scott? Ororo? Bobby?" Hank shook his head. "I know I'm not nearly as good of a friend as I should be, but I am always here for him when he needs me." The implied 'and you aren't' settled between them. Logan growled, low and angry.

"I'm gonna take this up to Scott, then you and me need to talk, Doc."

"No cigars in my lab."

"Don't worry about my smoke, Blue." The door closed behind him quietly. He didn't want to disturb his lover, even if he was dead to the world.

****

Scott collapsed into a haze of opiate soothed nothingness. He spared a minor thought for Logan, but couldn't even manage a slurred 'Thank you."

****

"Jeannie, please," Remy begged. "It just hurts. Stop it."

"It's almost done."

"Non!" Remy tried to stop her from removing this particular baracade. He knew what was contained by it. It was a nightmare of Omega proportions. He just couldn't tell her about it. "Jeannie, stop!"

"Sweetie, this is the last one that Sinsiter put in."

"I want it there!"

"It's cracking anyway. Better to do it while it can be controlled. I don't want it just jumping on you."

Remy grabbed her arm. "Jeannie, non!" He tried to push her out of his mind. Panic swelled in his chest. He'd known letting her in in the first place was a bad idea. She looked at him. The light flashing in her eyes made him see the Phoenix. He shivered. He tried to reach out to his worse half, but he couldn't pull up those memories and still protect the baracade. She wanted him distracted so that she could finish what she thought of as her duty. He couldn't stop the panic. He lashed out at her -- snapping a fist towards her face. It didn't connect. He was cocooned by a soft, gentle warmth. His eyes slipped closed. "Damn you," he whispered as he fell into the blankness.

****

Jean wiped the tears off of her cheek. "I'm so sorry, Remy," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I know you'll never trust me again. I'm sorry." She curled up on the other bed and let herself cry until she slept. She could feel Scott tugging at their link and knew he felt her distress. She sent him a terse "later" and put the link on hold.

****

Scott closed his eyes. Logan was next to him, holding him close and rocking him as he fell asleep. Scott refused to take any more pain pills, so Logan had decided that warm bathes and massages were the order of the day. Scott knew it was a distraction for the Canadian. Anything to keep from thinking about their Cajun laying helpless and far-too-still in the basement. Scott could see the still form every time he closed his eyes. He could sense Jean's dismay through their link, but she wouldn't let him know what was happening. It was going to drive him crazy if he thought about it for too long, so he let Logan pamper him instead. He turned his head and snuggled closer. "Night, Scooter."

"Night, Logan."

****

Jean cleaned up. She looked in on her patient. He was sleeping now. It was a natural coma. It shouldn't last more than another week. The major healing was done and his shields were in place. He just needed to finish healing and rearrange his memories to his own satisfaction. She knew, as she brushed the powder out of his hair that she'd never be allowed into his mind again. "Je suis desole," she whispered into his ear, hoping that by using French she'd convince him of her sincerity.

Hank's hand, warm and soft, settled on the back of her neck and massaged. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly. Jean just shook her head. She wanted to answer him, but couldn't find the words. He stroked her hair. "It will work out, Jean. He'll forgive you. He's forgiven Sinister for hurting him. Creed for raping him. He'll forgive anything you've done."

"I betrayed his trust." Her voice sounded bleak to her ears. "I'm going to get a hug from Scott. Will you finish this up for me?"

"Of course. I," he paused for a long moment. "When you need to talk, I think I already know most of the story. Remy tends to be talkative when he's sedated." The soft, mid-western accent was comforting. Jean buried her face in Hank's chest for a moment, then left the room."

****

Hank looked down at the still figure. "Wake up soon, my friend." He combed the powder from the limp hair, then laid Remy's head down. He was on a feeding tube now and Hank hated to do it to him. He'd mentioned it once when Remy'd stopped eating after a particularly nasty fight with Rogue. Remy had begged him to never mention the possibility again. He'd made a point of eating in Hank's presence from then on. It was a subtle change in their relationship, but the doctor had been miserable for a month afterward. Remy was eager to please and Hank had frightened him. "I'm sorry about the tube, Remy, but I can't have you starving to death. Logan would kill me. Worse than that, I'd have to face our fearless leader. Surely you wouldn't wish that fate on me." He kept up the rambling talk as he manipulated Remy's muscles and verified his vitals. "Sleep well," he said as he left.

Logan was waiting for him in the hall. "Can I see him now?" he asked. His voice was mild, but Hank heard the desperation there. He nodded. The Canadian pushed past him without another word. Hank watched the gruff Wolverine whisper softly in his lover's ear before curling up on the bed next to him. He held the Cajun in his arms. Hank smiled. That would help emensely.

****

Jean wrapped her arms around Scott's neck. He held her tightly as she cried. Their link vibrated with the intensity of her grief. Scott probed delicately to see if she'd tell him what was wrong. Remy was alive, she'd said as much so that he wouldn't strangle her. Then, she'd started to sob. He rocked her and whispered nonsense to her. It wasn't the words that affected her, it was his voice. They'd been each other's bedrock for so many years that it was impossible to think of it as over.

"I betrayed him," she whispered. "He'll never let me into his mind again. Oh, God, Slymm, what have I done?"

"You did what needed to be done. I know you, Redd. I always have. If you needed to do something without his permission, it needed to be done."

"I wish I could believe that. I wish he believed that."

"Have you asked him?"

That stopped her. "No."

"Then wait. He'll forgive you. He's fogiven me for a lot worse. Of course, I didn't nearly kill his lover. Bobby he's going to be torturing for awhile."

Jean laughed, wiping at her tears. Scott handed her his handkerchief. She wiped her eyes and her nose. "I'm sorry. You probably want to see him." She felt unaccountably guilty. The boys' relationship was new and they were still feeling their way around.

Scott shrugged. She couldn't read his thoughts. She was just too tired to try. "Logan's with him. That should take care of most of the nightmares. If he's just sleeping now and not still drugged?"

"Sort of. He's concussed from the repair work, if that makes any sense. He's unconscious, not asleep."

The field leader nodded. Jean studied her husband. "You've got a migraine?"

"Blue drugged me up a couple nights ago. Logan's prescribed a lot of hot baths and massages." He shrugged. "I should be okay by tomorrow."

Jean nodded. She could feel the bags under her eyes. Scott offered his arms and she curled up there. She didn't even notice falling asleep.

****

Remy woke slowly. His head ached. There was something in his nose. His eyes snapped open as he recognized the feeding tube. He froze looking up at the psi-shield. "Merde," he croaked. The warmth that was wrapped around him grumbled. "Logan?" he tried. His throat was sore, parched.

"Hey, Darlin'." Logan's voice was soft. His fingers twined through Remy's hair, stroking and soothing him. "Yer in the med-lab. You collapsed."

"Thirsty."

"Hold on. Lemme get Hank."

"Non, want water." Remy pouted. He knew what he needed. He needed water or ice chips -- something wet. Logan kissed his temple.

"After Hank gives the okay."

Remy sighed. He scratched at the IV in his hand. Hank must have been giving him something to keep him asleep. He tried to sit up and failed. He didn't know how long he'd been out. His internal clock said that it had been most of the day, if not longer.

"Trying to leave already, Remy? I'm heartbroken," Hank stated. Remy rolled his eyes. "It's not that I'm bad company is it? Someone would have told me by now if my bedside manner were that atrocious, wouldn't they?"

Remy grinned at him. He pointed at the water next to his bed. Hank nodded. Logan poured the water for him. Remy gulped it down. "That's better. What happened?"

"You purified Warren's wings and skin."

Remy stared. He scratched at the needle again, but didn't disturb it. He knew better than to interfere with treatment. Hank was gentle, but he'd still get angry. "Remy did what?"

"You purified Warren's wings. They're feather again."

"That ain't possible."

"You did it for one feather, why not the whole wing?"

"I ain't got enough power t' do his whole wing." Remy paused, sensing the leashed power in his body. "Merde."

"You've been out for two weeks. Jean's been helping you heal. Do you remember?"

The thief considered this information for a long moment. "Fuck," he said quietly. "She been in my head?"

"Yes."

He closed his eyes. "I hate spooks." He turned his face away from Logan. He knew Logan cared for Jean. It didn't make him jealous, exactly, but it did hurt that he couldn't be honest. How do you tell your lover that you can't stand one of the people he loves? Or that you want to have him all to yourself? Tears pricked at his eyes. He blamed the pain in his head for that. "What she say 'bout it?"

"That you absorbed most of his pain and the pain overloaded your brain. She helped you repair that damage." Hank brushed gentle fingers across Remy's forhead. He might have been checking for a fever, or he could have been trying to comfort him. Remy couldn't tell anymore. Everything seemed to be spinning. "You need to take it slow. If I have my way you'll be on bed-rest for at least another two weeks. No driving. No fighting. You will eat a full three meals a day and follow a very gentle PT schedule. You will speak to me immediately if you feel anything unusual. Do you understand?"

"D'accord, Henri. But I don't got to stay down here? Or keep this in?"

"No. I'm going to put you under Logan's care. But if I find out that you aren't following my directions, I will bring you back to the lab where I can keep an eye on you."

"Oui, M. Henri."

"Let's get that tube out of you. Push fluids for a few days as well." Remy nodded carefully. Hank held his head still and deftly extracted the feeding tube. He removed the needle and placed a Bugs Bunny band-aide over the puncture. Remy rolled his eyes.

"Y' got to stop letting Robert pick the supplies f' this place."

"Can I take him upstairs now?" Logan asked bluntly.

"Yes."

Logan tucked his lover's longer body into his arms and carried him upstairs. Remy laughed and squirmed. "You don't got to carry me, cher. Remy can walk."

"Shush. I like it." Remy wrapped his arms around Logan's neck and breathed in his lover's scent.

****

"I feel fine, Logan," Remy snapped from the bed. The Canadian had nearly threatened to tie him down.

"Hank said bedrest, that means you stay in the bed and rest," Logan explained once more. His voice was sharp and he saw Remy flinch. Remy wasn't well enough to be up on his own. He still stumbled when he tried to walk across the room and he was still being ambushed by a need for sleep. His mate hated to admit to weakness though.

"You mad at Remy?" the young man asked in a small voice.

"No, Rems," Logan soothed. "I'm gonna go get some coffee."

"Lemme come wit' y'."

"No."

Remy settled into a pout and Logan left him to sulk. As long as he stayed in bed for another day, he should be fine. He found Scott in the kitchen staring morosely into the fridge. He pinched the younger man's ass just to hear him yelp. "Gimme the cream."

"What's the magic word?"

"Alakazam." Logan held his hand out. Scott handed over the cream and returned to his meditations on the mass of leftovers in the fridge. "What's fer lunch?"

"Whatever is left from last night." Scott pushed his shades to the top of his head and rubbed his eyes. "Gambit's out of the lab?"

"Yeah. He's bitchin' about being on bed-rest. Wanna convince him for me?"

Scott snorted. "Because we all know how much control I've got over him." He dropped his shades back into place.

"He obeys yer orders."

"What planet are you living on?" Scott abandoned the fridge and turned to the cabinets.

"What are you looking fer?" Logan snapped.

"If I knew that I'd wouldn't be staring at the shelves. And don't take it out on me just because your lover's being a brat."

"He's yers too, remember?"

"No, he's yours. He's not mine yet. He's not sure."

"You wanna back off?"

Scott considered. He sighed. "No, yes, I don't know. I'll let you know after I get Jean calmed down and fix whatever stupidity in my head says I'm still married to her."

Logan's brows rose. "What she been sayin'?" He mixed honey into Remy's coffee and added just the right amount of cream. Scott leaned against the counter.

"She's just been sobbing on my chest for two days. She thinks Remy hates her. And I don't feel like playing mediator. It's like she assumes I'm going to make everything better and I don't even know what my relationship to Remy is anymore. It'll work out, but this place is just driving me crazy right now. Storm's jealous because Jean's sleeping in my room again. I'm confused because Jean came to me instead of going to Storm. But the problem is that she won't go to Storm because then Storm will worry about Remy. So, I'm planning to blame everything on Warren and his featherbrained wing fetish."

"Hey!" Scott smirked over his shoulder at Warren. The older man purposefully smacked into him with a wing. "Be nice, Slim."

"I'm not nice. I'm sadistic. You're the one who told me that, remember?"

"No, I said you were a psychopath, not a sadist. Besides, you can't tell me you didn't miss them."

"Your wings?"

"Yes."

"I missed them. Doesn't mean I like you any better with or without them, but you looked like an airplane with those metal things."

"Then how can you blame this all on me? I'm not the only one who wanted them back." Warren glared at his best friend.

"Because if you hadn't asked him to do whatever he did, he wouldn't be sick, Jean wouldn't be crying on my shoulder, and Ro wouldn't have anything to be jealous about."

Warren crossed his arms. "He was only supposed to do one feather. It's not my fault he went further than that."

Scott shook his head. "There's no food in this house. I'm heading out to the store. You need anything?"

"Yeah, we need honey." Logan turned the bottle on its head to let the sugary syrup settle. Scott added it to the list that lived on the fridge, then tore the paper off the pad. "Come up when ya come back. Let know Rems what's happening."

"Sure."

****

Remy sighed. He rubbed his temples. If only his head would stop aching, he could figure out how to tell Logan his powers were going to spike. Luckily, he was too tired to charge a card. He glanced around the room. He'd have to find a way to leave. He spun the ring on his finger. Please, Lord, don't make me have to give him up. Logan came back, breaking up the morose thoughts before they could drag Remy down into a mope.

He smiled as the Canadian settled next to him on the bed and cuddled him close before handing over the coffee. "I was thinkin' we should go campin'. We need to get away from this place for awhile. It'll give ya a chance to unwind."

"Campin'? Where?"

"Canada."

"It'll be cold."

"I'll keep ya warm."

"Ain't you still wanted up there?"

"Nah, Alpha Flight cleaned things up fer me. But maybe we should go out to Washington. I got a ranger friend out there."

"That'd be interestin'. I ain't been out to Seattle in awhile."

"I was thinking near Cascade."

Remy nodded. "Bien. You make the plans and let m' know. Don't reckon I care much where we go, long as y're there."

"You're just a sap under that smart-ass ain't ya?" Logan smirked. "I love ya, you know that right?"

"Oui, cher, never doubt it." Remy rubbed at his temple. "Feel like I got one of Scott's headaches buildin'. How he doin' anyway? I ain't been able to ease his pains."

"You been easing his headaches? How long?" Logan frowned.

"Since I got here. Ain't nothing big. Just take a little pain away with a touch here and there. He don't need it every day, just something like once a week or so."

"Hank says you need to heal before ya try anything like that. Capische?"

"D'accord, Wolvie. Don't fret so. Y' gonna make yourself old. Dis is bon. Just you an' me."

Logan sighed. "I know I asked ya before, but you sure about exploring things with Scott?"

Remy bit his lip. "Cher, I ain't the kind to dictate where hearts go. He loves you. We're friends. If things grow, they do. I know we ain't the easiest to understand, but we learnin' our way around each other."

"I wish there were a way to snap my fingers and make everything work out."

"Ain't your fault, cher. Y' loved him long as I known y'. Me, I got some past issues." Remy debated for a long moment. "I'm supposed t' be his enemy. Y' know that? Essex set m' up to be his Scott. Supposed to be able t' out think him. Go against him without ever hurtin' him. Took up with Creed even. Tryin' to understand him and you."

"I ain't nothin' like Creed," Logan growled.

Remy raised a brow. "Y' don't even want m' tellin' you the truth about that, so we closin' the conversation. I always figured the only reason y' liked m' is because. . . nevermind."

"No, don't close off from me, kiddo. I need to know, Darlin'. I ain't a spook. I can read yer scent, but I need to know what's happenin' inside that head of yers."

Remy took a shaky breath. "I figured you wanted m' because I look like him."

Logan sat up. Remy stiffened, sensing anger without needing to use his charm. Logan fixed his gaze with those crystal blue eyes. Those eyes were hard and Remy shivered. "Never, Remy. It ain't never been about yer looks. You ain't a substitute. God, I didn't know. I never meant to hurt ya, Darlin'." Logan brushed his fingers along Remy's cheek. His fingers were rough, calloused. They felt so good that the younger man wanted to weep. The Canadian sighed. "I ain't good with words, Gumbo."

Remy shook his head. "Je comprenz. Je t'amie, Logan."

"Love you too, Darlin'. I gotta, I need, I love you, Rems. Not who you think you should be, but who ya are. Never doubt that."

"Y' don't know me. I know that once y' do, you'll leave. I ain't nice or sweet or any of the shit y' t'ink I am." He looked at Logan for a long moment. "I'm not who anyone t'inks. Not you, not Sinister, not Scott, not Jeannie. None of y'all know me. Y' be better off if'n I leave. I do love y', cher, but that's dangerous f' y'." Remy stroked Logan's sideburns. "But I can't leave y'. I need t'. I should, but I can't." A single tear ran down his cheek. He wiped it away, angry at his own weakness. "Should've let Creed cut m' open again."

Logan growled, it was a deep, angry sound. The kiss was possessive, hard. Remy could feel the fury that Logan was trying to force down. He gripped the coffee cup in his hands so tightly that he thought it might crack under the pressure. Logan backed off, leaving Remy dazed, confused, and horny. The Canadian took the mug away. "If ya ever say somethin' like that again, I swear to God, I'll have Hank lock you up in the lab until yer grey!"

Remy considered that for a moment. He smirked. "Might not be too bad. Already gettin' grey in m' hair. Y' gonna come visit me?"

Logan smirked. "Maybe."

Remy pouted. The tension between them was gone again. "Henri tell you why I feel so tired?"

"Concussion, Darlin'. Just rest some. I'm gonna go get ya something to read."

"Better be somethin' interesting. Y' know, security manuals or the latest cryptology journal Robert got from Kitty."

Logan smirked. "I think you'll enjoy it." The Canadian kissed him. "I'll be back soon. Don't even think about gettin' up without someone here. Call Scooter, or Storm, or, Hell, call Wings. But I don't want ya gettin' up without someone here. If ya fall and hurt yerself, I'll. . . Well, I ain't gonna be happy with you."

Remy raised a brow. "There some kink y' should be tellin' me about b'fore we get serious."

"Too late. Already gave ya the ring." Logan grinned. The LeBeau crest that hung around his neck glinted in the light of the bedside lamp. Remy smiled.

"Come back soon."

****

Scott looked at the desk with a scowl. There was a stack of paperwork that the state wanted him to finish. He hated the red-tape that Xavier's cover story required. "When did I agree to doing paperwork?" he muttered.

"When you agreed to take over the team," Xavier stated from the doorway.

"Hi, Prof." Scott smiled. "Tell me there's something to take me away from all this. A riot? A murder? Hell, at this point, I'll take a little old lady who needs to get across the road." Xavier shook his head with a fond smile. He closed the door behind himself. He gestured toward the couch. Scott looked at it. "Jean promised she'd fix the leather later." Xavier looked down his nose. Scott laughed. "Yeah, I know, I know. Is this a lecture or are you pretending to be my shrink?"

"Scott." The voice was mild, too mild. The field leader put on his poker mask.

"Sir."

Xavier shook his head. "Come out from behind there. You are still my son. Get over here. Sit."

"Oh, this is the interfere in his life time, got it. Sorry, I missed the memo." Scott settled on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table, just to see Xavier frown.

"What on earth did you do to your boots?"

Scott looked down at the red-striped boots. The red stripes were actually more of a maroon, so they didn't stand out too badly. "I pissed off the wrong young woman."

"Jubilee, I assume?" There was a smirk in the professor's voice now, a hint of supressed laughter.

"Got it in one. She seems to be under the impression that I won't hurt her."

"You never would."

"Not that you'll ever find out," Scott affirmed. "Don't worry. I'm very good at not getting caught."

"Scott Summers," Xavier's voice was sharp. Scott smirked at him. "I ought to put you into therapy."

"I'm already on the couch," Scott deadpanned. "So, what has brought you here today?"

"Isn't that my line?" Xavier was obviously in a playful mood. It was good to see. He'd been too quiet recently. "Now, tell me honestly, what happened to our thief?"

"Oh, Goddess, couldn't you have asked me the easy question?"

"Goddess? You've been corrupted by Storm again, I see." Xavier settled his hands in his lap, waiting for Scott to collect his thoughts. Scott appreciated it. There were a lot of scattered thoughts to pull together.

"Well, the way it was explained to me is that he took in Warren's pain and caused himself some psychic damage. Jean fixed it, but he's still got a concussion."

The professor seemed startled by the information. "His empathy *is* getting stronger, then. I had wondered if he was merely using it more often."

Scott shrugged. "Hank doesn't have any records of his brain patterns. His charge messes with the machine, so we can't check. All I can tell you is that Jean's upset. No, she's beyond upset and approaching miserable."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"How are you?"

Scott opened his mouth to say "fine," but closed it before the lie came out. "I don't know," he said finally.

"That's a good start. What hurts most?"

"My head," Scott said immediately. "I've had more migraines in the past few weeks than I have in years. I don't know what's changed, but it's making everything more, I don't know, it's just fucking with my perceptions." The professor didn't say anything, just nodded. "And Jean's been crying on my shoulder, wailing that Remy will never trust her again, but I don't know what she wants me to do. Half the time, we're just Slim and Red, the way it used to be before sex got in the middle of things. Before the wedding and the fourteen years in the future. No, that's not right. The future was good for us, no matter how hard it was. We'll always be partners. It's just that, shit, I don't know." Scott rubbed at his temple.

Xavier put a gentle hand on Scott's wrist. "Logan has made motions about stealing you and Remy away for a few weeks. Should I put him off for you? Just tell him that I need you here?"

"No, if I don't go, I want him to hear it from me, not you. I don't want him to think that I don't trust him or something."

"I think trust is not the issue. Do you love him, Scott, truly?"

"Yes, I've loved him since I stole him from Alpha Flight."

"And Remy?"

"I do love him. I keep thinking that maybe if I'd found him earlier, he wouldn't be quite as skittish as he is now. Hell, who am I kidding? It's the uncertainty that makes it exciting. It's just that we're both jealous bastards. He's jealous of my relationship with Logan. And I'm jealous of his relationship with Logan. The only thing we can agree on is that we're friends. It's like being a teenager again, sir. I just don't know how anything works. And I can't fix what's wrong with Jean. Maybe Logan has the right idea. I don't know if we'll ever figure things out if we're here in the middle of things. I keep hoping for an emergency so I can get away from here for a little while."

"I can send you out on errands, if you'd prefer." Xavier was smirking. Scott's eyes narrowed. He knew he was being manipulated into something, he just couldn't figure out if it was the errands or the paperwork.

"What sort of errands?"

"Don't be so suspicious, Scott. It's a nice day. The sun is shining. You should get out."

"Doing your errands."

"Exactly."

"With you."

"Yes."

"Because suddenly you've decided that you can't drive."

Xavier smiled. "I think we just need some time alone. We need to talk."

A terrifying thought struck him. Xavier was going to try to give him the "it's okay to be worried about your history" talk. "Oh, oh no, sir, we're not going to have one of those talks I hate are we?"

"Yes, we are. Get the van, Scott. I'll meet you at the garage."

"I've got a headache."

"And your point is?"

"Yes, sir."

****

Logan watched Remy sleeping with a soft smile. He brushed the soft hair away from the long-lashed eyes. He kissed the now exposed forehead lightly. "I love you, kiddo," he whispered. There was a light knock on the door. Logan opened it to reveal Scott with an armful of papers. He raised his brows.

Scott scowled. He put a finger to his lips. He sat down at the Cajun's desk. He set the thief's things aside. He pulled his favorite silver pen out of his pocket and start working. he didn't even glance at the young man sleeping on the bed. Logan took hold of Scott's chin and turned his face. He kissed him quietly, gently. The field leader swallowed hard, then looked back at his paperwork. Logan's grip tightened. He'd learned a long time ago that Scott would and could ignore him for hours if he got too far into his work. He turned Scott's face towards his own. He looked at him, not speaking, but damning the red quartz that kept him from seeing the younger man's eyes. Is there a problem? he asked with his eyes. Do I have to kill someone?

Scott shook his head. He pulled away from the grip and gestured irritably towards the door. It was a gesture that indicated the whole of the house outside of the room they were in. It was technically Remy's room, but everyone knew it was merely his office. That was why Scott was hiding here instead of his own room. Who would look for him in Remy's room? Logan let it go. Scott would tell him what had happened when he calmed down. There was anger, pain, and fear in his scent.

Remy stirred. "Hey, Scotty," he muttered before he rolled over and fell back asleep.

"Hey," Scott answered softly. He buried himself in his work and Logan simply watched. Now that he was looking for the similarities, he could see them. Their hair and builds were similar, but not enough that he had ever believed the rumors that Remy was one of the Summers clan. There was something else there though, something that usually went unrecognized. There was obsession. Remy could lose himself for hours in a puzzle. Scott could do the same, hiding away with tactical maps and 3D schematics. He settled into the lotus position and meditated. He needed to clarify his own emotions before he confronted either of his lovers.

****

Remy woke to an unusual sound. He frowned. Logan was gone. The short note on the nightstand said that he'd gone to practice. That was good. The muffled sound came again. It was sobbing. He frowned. No one was in the room next to him. Logan's room was down the hall, Warren was across from him, Bobby at the end. Hank's room was next to his and Hank never used it. Remy got up. His head swam a little bit, but he ignored it. He knew that sound. What was it? He rubbed at his eyes. His head felt padded with cotton. He looked down at his arm, checking to make sure there were no new pricks in his viens.

He pulled a sweatshirt on over his tee. It looked strange with his sleep pants, but he didn't care. The sound pulled at him. He ran his hand lightly along the chair-rail to keep himself steady. He opened the door without knocking. He knew the sound now. It was tears. Scott was curled up in the far corner of the room, a leather jacket folded over his arms. He was crying into it, trying to stop the sound of it.

His head jerked up, eyes closed. "I didn't mean to wake you," he said hoarsely.

"How did y' know it was me?" Remy asked. He knelt down next to the older man. He was close enough to touch, but didn't bridge that small gap.

"You're the only one who can out-quiet Logan. I heard the door. And I know where Logan's gone. He won't be out for awhile."

"What happened?"

"Just my past coming to bite me. Don't worry. You'll get wrinkles and Logan will scream at me."

Remy stuck his tongue out at the older man. "Y' such a brat, Scotty. Don't know why we put up with y'."

"Me neither," Scott muttered. Remy sat down a little less gracefully than he would have liked. He settled his head on Scott's shoulder and the older man put an arm around him.

"That what y' cryin' about? Self-pity?"

"Nah. Just the past. Talked with Charles today. That always dredges things up. Especially when he starts going into his theories as to why I'm skittish about new relationships."

"Connard," Remy muttered. "We got enough problems wit'out him stickin' that Roman nose of his into t'ings."

"Your accent is fading," Scott commented.

"Papa made me go to a voice coach for awhile." Remy smirked. Scott laughed. "It's m' real accent though. Just had t' work on it some. There. Now y' know somet'in' I ain't even talked t' Logan 'bout. What part of y'r past?"

"Jack. I came in here looking for my coat. Hank and Bobby stored all the stuff I told them to get rid of after Jean died. They knew me better than I did. They knew I'd want it back."

Remy caressed the leather. "Nice coat. Surprised Robert didn' just keep it f' hisself."

"He knew I'd kill him if I ever saw him wearing it. I hustled the money for it fair and square." Scott paused. "Pool, Gumbo. I quit the other kind before Charles took me in."

"So dat's the problem. Never figured y' f' a whore. Don't matter t' me none. Been there, done that. Ain't too pleased wit' the idea of y' shakin' y' ass f' someone else, but I deal wit' that too."

Scott shook his head. "You're insane, Babe."

"I know." Remy grinned. "Y' come tuck m' back in?"

"And sulk by your desk again? Yeah, I think I can handle that. There's some interesting books on your shelves."

****

"You want to take me where?" Scott asked Logan.

"Cascade, Washington. Do both of you good to get outta here. What ya think?"

"I think you're insane. Remy's supposed to be on bed rest."

The Cajun snorted from the couch. He was reading something with so many passages of technobabble that Scott had given up trying to read over his shoulder. "Like that's gonna stop m' from escapin' Henri?"

Scott scowled. "Why do I have the feeling that this is a done deal?"

"Because I already got Chuckles and Jeannie to help me with it."

Scott threw his hands up in the air. "Fine! You win! Whatever the fuck you want!"

"Really?" Logan smirked. "Anything?"

"Not that."

"You don't even know what I was gonna ask about."

"I didn't like the look in your eyes."

Logan smirked. "We're all packed. Jeannie's droppin' us off at the airport tomorrow."

"I have paperwork to do."

"All done," Remy said, not bothering to look up. Scott sighed.

"I knew letting you two be partners would mean trouble."

Logan laughed. "Shit, Slim, like you ain't trouble?"

"I know my level of trouble. It's that the two of you are. . . synergistic trouble."

Logan raised a brow. "Synergistic?"

"Meaning that the effects of your trouble mixture isn't merely additive," Scott explained.

Remy snickered. "Can't wait t' see when there's three of us trouble-makers in one place."

"Isn't there a volcano out there?"

"Dormant," the Cajun replied.

"Right. Better call and warn Cable to get ready to pull our asses out when it blows."

FINIS

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