Title: Never Again
Author: Morgana (morganalebeau@yahoo.com)
Website: http://www.oocities.org/morganalebeau/
Rating: NC-17
Pairing / Main characters: Gambit/Iceman, non-con: Gambit/Sinister
Series/Sequel: complete
Summary: Remy's hiding at the boathouse, trying to deal with a past that haunts him. Bobby gets fed up with Remy's attitude and tries to find out what's going on. Slowly, Bobby discovers what monster lurks in Remy's past.
Disclaimer: Marvel's...
Archive/distribution: Yes, just drop me a note telling me where you're archiving it.
Date: Okt 2002
________________________________________________________
Never Again 1
By Morgana
I love you... Why are you doing this to me? To us? Remy, come back to me. You know we are meant to be together! This is ludicrous!
Remy flinched violently, wrapped his arms around his frame and banged his head against the wall, banging hard, hoping the pain would force the voice inside his head in to submission. "Go away! Leave me alone! I don't want anything to do with you!"
He was alone at the boathouse, where he lived in exile now that the X-Men no longer wanted him around. Led by false pride he had announced he wanted to live here, that this situation would solve their problems for now, but all he had really wanted was to get away from them, to increase the distance between them.
Remy, come back to me. I will take you back and I won't hold your betrayal against you. Come back to me. I love you...
Non, stop it! Just stop it! I don't want anything to do with you! It was a lie! What we had was a lie! You used me!
No, Remy, we belong together. You can deny that, but that doesn't change the truth!
Non! Leave me alone! Desperate to rid himself of the invasive voice, he used his charging power and gathered a spark of energy in his fingertips, placing them against the inside of his wrist. He screamed out in pain as the kinetic fire burned his skin, but it silenced the voice at last.
Panting, he stared at the ugly burn on his arm and sobbed softly. It hurt... but the physical pain made the emotional one fade.
Slowly, he rose from the floor where he had collapsed and made his way over to the kitchen where he came to a halt in front of the sink. Cold water dripped down his arm, cooling the burn and taking away some of its sting. Through the tears, he stared at the ugly burn. He had to find another way to make the pain go away. Hurting himself like that was not an option!
Remy rested his head against the kitchen cupboard while cooling his arm. When had this nightmare started? When I got back from Antarctica... Antarctica had changed everything and his life would never be the same again. I don't wanna think about it, not now...
With his other hand, he pulled the first aid kit closer and sat down at the kitchen table, his arm wrapped in a clean towel. After opening the kit, he selected a soothing balm and applied some of the cool gel to the burn. His head bowed in defeat, he stared at the burn
Exhausted, he let the balm do its work and after putting some special gauze over the wound, he applied a loose bandage. It would take a few weeks for the burn to heal and it would hamper him in the mean time.
Keeping his arm close to his chest, he opened the fridge in search of some cold juice. "Merde." He was out of luck. His fridge was empty except for some salad and leftovers, nothing to drink.
This meant he had to visit the mansion, and restock. He should probably take more food supplies with him, that way he wouldn't have to visit the mansion again for some weeks. His face contorted. He really didn't want to go to the mansion and face them. Although they had never told him to leave, he had seen the distrust in their eyes. They didn't want him around. If only he were a little more courageous, then he would have left Westchester all together. Nothing kept him here and yet he felt unable to leave.
Remy grabbed some paper bags to carry his supplies home in and placed them on the kitchen table. He climbed the stairs to his bedroom and changed into jeans and a baggy, long sleeved shirt.
After gathering his paper bags, he left the boathouse and headed for the mansion, ignoring the rain that poured down on him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Happy birthday, Bobby. Happy thirtieth!"
Bobby cringed. "Please, Warren, don't remind me of my age! I don't feel that old!" Thirty. He was turning thirty today and his team mates were throwing him a surprise party. But the thing was that he didn't want a party! He had hoped no one would remember it was his birthday.
"Thirty..." Logan growled low in his throat. "Yer just a kid!"
"Compared to you perhaps!" Bobby tried to smile, but only a contorted grin surfaced on his face. Sighing, he stared at the mountain of Twinkies which Hank had given him as a birthday present. If I eat those I will easily add ten pounds! It's sugar, pure posion! Why didn't he just give me a few Twinkies? Why this mountain? The Twinkies reached the ceiling in the corridor. "Hank, I can't eat them all!"
Hank smiled smugly, removed his glasses and cleaned them, ignoring Bobby's remark. "My, isn't there any tea? I am thirsty..." Without giving Bobby another look, he marched over to the bar, where Storm was helping them to their drinks.
Looking to his right, Bobby caught Jean's amused expression. "Stop smirking! You'll help me eat those Twinkies!"
Jean giggled. "I wouldn't mind eating two or three Twinkies, Bobby. I love chocolate, but that's where I draw the line. No more than three."
Scott sat back and watched the exchange. Life was good. Bobby was turning thirty today and would hopefully stop clowning around so much, but then again, he would miss the laughter and Bobby's pranks.
Rogue, who was chatting with Joseph and Betsy, raised her glass and wished him a happy birthday as well. Bobby smiled politely. A few years ago he would have blushed a crimson red, pleased at having her attention, but he no longer had a crush on her. He had seen the way she had treated Remy and his crush had faded quickly. Rogue was a good teammate, he just didn't want her as a lover.
Warren gave him a wink and Bobby grinned in return. First, Charles had told him that he deserved a vacation and then Warren had offered to pay for it. Of course he had taken his friend up on the offer; he had always wanted to make a trip to New Zealand to simply enjoy the magnificent nature there. He would spend the next week plotting his trip and then head for New Zealand.
Although the team was his family, it felt good to get away from them for a few weeks. He couldn't remember the last time he had taken a vacation. Sipping his beer, his gaze traveled from one teammate to another, until he felt content at having his family close.
Suddenly his stomach growled, but he blatantly ignored Hank who directed him toward the Twinkies in the corridor and he headed for the kitchen instead. What he really wanted were some sandwiches, not Twinkies!
However, his smile died on his lips at finding Remy rummaging in the kitchen. Remy, he had completely forgotten about the Cajun! Well, I couldn't exactly invite him as they threw me a surprise party; I had no idea they were planning something like that! But I should have noticed he was missing, damn it!
"Hey, Remy, I missed you at the party. Would you like to have a drink with me, us? It's my thirtieth. The others are making fun of me, you can join in too." He smiled, hoping he could save his sorry ass. How on earth could he forget about Remy? "Wanna join us?"
Remy gave him a blinding smile while packing more food supplies in to his paper bags. "Would love to, Drake. I love to party, mon ami, mais I got a hot date in just one hour and I need to get ready... Can't disappoint de femme, can I?"
Bobby nodded once. "Sure, dates come first. I understand." He was a little disappointed that Remy brushed him off like that, fairly sure that the Cajun had no date. He had been stuck with monitor duty this last week and Remy hadn't left the mansion's premises once, hiding at the boathouse instead.
"Maybe I can drop off some leftover birthday cake later? That's if Logan doesn't get to it first." Damn, he wanted to make things up to Remy. The Cajun didn't show any disappointment, but Remy had to feel left out. Everyone else was partying in the living room.
"Ai, you don't have to do that, Bobby! I won't go hungry!" Remy pointed at the stuffed paper bags. "I'll probably be eating out tonight anyways!"
Bobby gave in. It was obvious that Remy didn't want his company and he wasn't pushing. "Maybe another time?"
"Oui, maybe!" Remy grinned impishly, grabbed his food supplies and marched toward the doorway. "Joyeux anniversaire, Bobby! Hope you have a bon day!"
The door closed behind Remy, and Bobby was left standing there, feeling strangely manipulated. "You always liked to party, Remy... I know you probably don't have a date tonight, you haven't left the premises for at least one week. You're simply keeping me, us, at a distance... I wonder why."
Worried, Bobby returned to the party, no longer hungry. His party mood was gone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Remy hurried home and because of his speed, he lost several food items, so he had to stop to collect them again. It had been easy to act carefree in front of Bobby, but now that he was alone again he had a hard time keeping the mask in place. It always slipped.
He threw the door open, dropped the paper bags on to the kitchen table and leaned forward, placing his hands against the wall. Breathing harshly, he tried to subdue the stinging sensation in his eyes.
When he had entered the mansion he had heard them partying in the living room and he had hoped to gather his stuff and leave before anyone noticed his presence, but then Bobby had walked in to the kitchen. Bobby, the birthday boy!
He invited everyone except me, naturelement. Why would he want me around? I'd just ruin the party. Oui, it's best I stay here, far away from them. They don't want me around cause of what I did in de past. Mon Dieu, I'm a thieving bastard... Got the Morlocks killed, couldn't treat Rogue right and...
Remy, why are you doing this to yourself? Listen to me, listen to reason...
Non, the voice couldn't be back again! He had just driven it away! Leave me alone, get outta my head! I don't want you in here! Sliding down the wall, he pressed his knuckles in to his temples, trying to batter the voice in to submission.
Remy, why are you staying with them when they don't want you? They don't know how special you are, how much you care. They don't know what they are throwing away by shunning you, but I know. I care for you. Please come home, Remy.
Non! And stay the fuck outta my mind! His mental barriers had weakened considerably since Antarctica. Before the ice he had been able to keep out the professor and Jean; he had even thrown Betsy out of his mind, but his defenses were weak now. If they tried, they could easily slip inside his mind. That was another reason why he had put some distance between them.
The voice remained silent and Remy sighed relieved. Maybe he had finally managed to get a grip on it. But now that everything was silent inside his mind, his own thoughts created even more wrinkles. They don't want me... they don't want me around. I'm worthless... no longer an active part of the team. What am I still doing here? Why are they letting me stay? Can't even go back to poppa, New Orleans is off territory to me. Can't do this anymore, can't do this anymore...
The guilt, pain and loneliness came crushing down on him and he sank in to them, unable to find his way back to the surface again. Why can't I do anything right? Why do I always screw up? I should know by now that I can't do it right. Why do I keep trying? I'm too tired to try again...
Tears leaked from his eyes and made their way down his cheeks. They dripped on to the floor and Remy pushed himself away from the wall, slowly making his way over to the kitchen table. He had already set the table for dinner before heading for the mansion and the knife simmered in the electric light.
Face it, LeBeau, you're a loser... Remy took hold of the knife and stared at the hypnotic tip. A complete loser. I always screw up. People get killed cause of me. What am I still doing here? I should have died in the tunnels and later on the ice, but Sinister kept me alive, damn him!
His hand trembled as he pushed the sleeve past his elbow. Slowly, determinedly, he placed the tip of the knife against his skin, not yet penetrating the tissue yet. I don't wanna do this anymore. I don't want this life anymore, mais I don't wanna die either. Mon Dieu, I don't know what to do!
Despair overwhelmed him and slowly, the tip of the knife dipped beneath the skin, drawing blood. Focusing on the cut, he pushed the tip in deeper until his teeth chattered and his body shook.
The thoughts inside his head slowed down, came to a halt, allowing him a moment of complete peace. Then the adrenaline rushed through his body, momentarily chasing away his emotional pain. But when the rush ended, he hissed. Blood dripped on to the kitchen table and he quickly removed the knife, grabbing a towel to press down on the wound.
Tears freely rivuleted down his face, and he tried hard not to move, to stay in the moment. But the moment passed and the guilt kept sneaking back in. Remy shook his head and got to his feet to take care of the cut. Once he had dealt with it, he walked in to the living area and sat down. He wrapped his arms around his waist and rocked slowly. Although his arm stung, he ignored it. A part of him even hoped they would call him in for a mission, but the comm. system remained quiet.
Quiet. Everything around him was quiet. He was the only living, breathing soul inside this house. The silence unnerved him and yet at the same time it soothed him. Closing his eyes, he tried to maintain the stillness of his thoughts, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep. It had been such a long time since he had slept undisturbed. Usually it took him hours of tossing and turning to fall asleep and even when he did, he woke several times a night, robbing him of a peaceful night rest.
Mon Dieu, I'd sell my soul to be back with poppa and tante...
Hahahaha...
The malicious laughter that echoed back at him froze his soul. The chilling sound sent shivers down his spine and his fingernails clawed the armrest. He's still there, inside my head... He never left...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bobby stared at the screen. After the party had ended, he had gone back to monitor duty because he had wanted to know if Remy had left or not. First, he checked on the boathouse. Lights shone from the living area and the kitchen; it definitely looked like the Cajun was in. To be on the safe side, he also checked the security logs and tapes and they showed him what he already suspected. Remy had headed back to the boathouse and had not left it.
Leaning back in his chair, Bobby considered his next move. He had managed to salvage the last pieces of the birthday cake once Logan knew he wanted to take them to Remy, but now he wasn't so sure he was welcome at the boathouse. Remy had made up that date just to get rid of him. What do I do? Take the hint and leave him alone or...? Being honest with himself, he had to admit to already having made up his mind. I'm going over there. I want to know why he's making up excuses. Remy's been shutting us out for some time now, even Scott and the professor agree that we need to rebuild the contact. Bringing him some birthday cake is a start.
Bobby checked the time; it was past midnight and although the lights were still on at the boathouse he was tempted to wait until morning to pay Remy his visit, but then again... What if he feels awfully lonely? The night is the worst time to be alone. I should go over there now and not wait.
Determinedly, Bobby rose from the chair and headed for the kitchen to collect two pieces of his birthday cake. When he arrived at the kitchen, he was somewhat surprised to find Scott there. "Shouldn't you be in bed already?" Scott didn't like staying up late and they often joked about it. "It's way past your bed time, Slim!"
Scott laughed softly. "I couldn't sleep and Jean's sound asleep, so I didn't want to wake her, tossing and turning all night." Scott raised his mug. "I came down here to drink some warm milk."
Bobby removed the cake from the fridge. "I'm going to pay Remy a little visit."
Scott suddenly seemed uncomfortable, shifting on his chair. "That's another reason why I couldn't sleep."
Bobby sat down at the kitchen table, studying his old friend. "I don't think you're to blame, Scott. Remy made the decision to move to the boathouse on his own. We never asked him to move out."
"But we didn't ask him to stay either." Scott sighed. "I've got a bad feeling about Remy."
Bobby raised an eyebrow. "In what way?"
"The few times I spoke to him I had the feeling that I wasn't getting through to him. The cocky smile was there, the smug expression was in place, but something was off."
Bobby nodded once. "I feel the same way and that's why I'm going over there now. I'll let you know what I find out." He pushed back the chair and got to his feet, carrying the plate with the birthday cake.
Scott almost mentioned that it was past one AM, but swallowed the remark. If Bobby wanted to do this now, he shouldn't stop his friend. "Get going, Bobby." He was eager to find out what was going on with Remy as well.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sharp fingernails pushed and pulled at the crust of dried blood that had formed on the cut. Stop doing that... It will only start bleeding again... But that was what he wanted, wasn't it?
It was deadly quiet at the boathouse and he had retreated to the couch with a book, hoping to read through the night, but his thoughts constantly drifted back to his encounter with Bobby in the kitchen. He hadn't expected Bobby to invite him, but the other man had only been polite.
Bobby had probably been relieved when his invitation was declined. They were enjoying the party and I wasn't meant to be there... They didn't know I needed food supplies. They probably thought I wouldn't notice what was going on. But he had known it was Bobby's birthday, he just hadn't bothered with a birthday present, knowing Drake wouldn't want one from him, the traitor.
Feeling miserable, he dabbed harder at the crust, pulling it off completely. Droplets of blood dripped down his arm and he grabbed some tissues to catch them. Usually the physical pain took the focus off the emotional one, but not this time. All he felt was loneliness and worthlessness. They didn't even think him worthy of attending the party. Why is this such a big deal to me? They have been ignoring me for weeks now, why does this hurt? Cause he still hoped they would accept him, at least the chipper, carefree man he pretended to be when he was around them. They had no idea how he truly felt, how cold and dark his world was.
Remy, come back to me... You don't have to be alone. You're doing this to yourself...
Remy flinched at the return of that voice. For once he didn't answer it, didn't tell it to go away and leave him alone; the voice was right. He was doing this to himself. Fortunately the voice remained quiet and he rested his head against the armrest of the couch, sliding down until he was lying down. He was cold, but too drained to get himself a blanket.
Lifting the tissues, he found that the bleeding had almost stopped. He should disinfect and bandage it. The bandage would also keep him from scratching it open again. Now he had to get up anyway. He dragged himself to his feet and stumbled over to the kitchen table where the first aid kit still sat. After disinfecting the wound, he applied the bandage, staring at the wounds and marks in disgust. Why couldn't he stop hurting himself? Wasn't he hurting enough yet?
The unexpected sound of the door bell made him jump nervously and he spun around. He frowned. It was one AM. Who was visiting him at this late hour? "Who's there?" He stared at the door, afraid it might open by itself. He quickly finished bandaging the wound and hid the first aid kit in a kitchen cupboard.
"It's me, Bobby. Come on, Remy! I saved you some cake!"
Remy hissed. Bobby? What the hell was Bobby doing here? "It's the middle of the night, homme!"
"I know that, but the cake is really great. I rescued it from Logan."
After releasing a resigned sigh, Remy walked over to the door and opened it. Bobby looked awfully chipper and awake for this late hour. "Why now? Can't we do this tomorrow?"
"Hum... It's already tomorrow," teased Bobby, entering resolutely. He placed the plate on the coffee table in the living room and looked up. "It doesn't look like you were asleep already, Remy."
Remy knew he was busted. "I was just getting ready to go to bed."
"What about your date then? Wasn't she interested?" Bobby sat down on the couch, studying Remy closely.
"She canceled the date," lied Remy. "Her tante was ill." He had to convince Bobby to leave again! He wasn't in the mood for company. He would probably attain his goal the fastest by playing along. He forced himself to smile and his mask slipped in to place again. "Cake looks delicious!" After retrieving some forks from the kitchen, he dug in, noticing that Bobby didn't touch his piece. "You ain't hungry, homme?"
"I already had several pieces." Bobby grew quiet again.
Remy grew uncomfortable under Bobby's probing look, but smiled brilliantly. "Everyone's bien at the mansion? How's Stormy doing?"
"Why don't you ask her yourself? When was the last time the two of you talked?"
"It's been a while..." Remy grinned. "Been busy chasing de femmes... Now that I'm no longer with Rogue I wanna enjoy freedom." But Bobby's expression told him that the other man wasn't buying it.
Cut the crap, Remy, Ever since I arrived you've been putting on an act, but I don't believe you. There never was a date and you don't look like you're enjoying freedom. You look like death warmed over. It's not that you lost much weight... You lost some, but it's something else and I'm not leaving before I made you talk about it. Bobby crossed his arms in front of his chest. "So you like the cake?"
Remy nodded. "It's great."
"You could have had the punch and company along with it if you had stayed at the mansion." Bobby noticed the little crack that showed in Remy's mask when the Cajun's eyes briefly widened. But you never wanted the company.
"Ai, mon ami, mais I didn't know the date was off! Had I known, I would have stayed." Remy tried to smile smugly, but was unable to pull it off.
Bobby decided not to pressure Remy in to telling him the truth. "Have you ever been to New Zealand?"
Remy's surprise at the changed topic showed on his face. "New Zealand? Non, why do you wanna know?"
"I'm planning a trip there and Warren's paying. Would you like to tag along, considering you haven't been there yourself?" Please, Remy, say yes. You need the break, to get away from Westchester.
Remy was stunned. "New Zealand? You and me? Don't need Warren's money though, got enough of my own..." The idea was tempting but... "Sorry, Bobby, mais I have to decline." If they were on the road together Bobby would find out what was going on with him. He had to maintain the safe distance between them.
"You don't have to decide right now." Bobby got to his feet again. When Remy offered him the plate with the last piece of birthday cake, he declined. "No, I had enough of the cake and I got a mountain of Twinkies to hide from. You seemed to like it. Consider it dessert."
Remy rose from the couch as well, giving Bobby a polite nod. "Merci, mon ami." He had come so damned close to accepting Bobby's offer to tag along, but it was too dangerous. Still, to his surprise he found that he liked having Bobby around. It had definitely shut up the voice in his head.
But Bobby wasn't giving up yet. "Would you help me plan my trip then? I haven't been to New Zealand before and you could help me decide on what places to visit." Suddenly, he frowned. Was that blood on Remy's long sleeved shirt? How did it get there?
Remy tried hard to hide his unease. "Don't know if I'll have the time, Bobby, maybe..." Every moment Bobby spent close to him presented a danger.
"By the way, you've got blood on your sleeve. Did you accidentally cut yourself?" Bobby pointed at the sleeve.
Remy grew pale. He quickly hid the bloody sleeve from Bobby's view and desperately searched for a plausible explanation. "Oui, was opening a bottle of wine and slipped."
Bobby looked about. Strange, he didn't see any wine. "You should take care of that. You don't want to risk an infection and have Hank come down on you for not taking care of it."
"I will." Remy managed a reassuring smile.
"I'll drop by tomorrow and bring my maps and travel guides of New Zealand. We can use the net to find the information we're missing."
Remy wished he could say non, but he didn't want to disappoint Bobby, plus the other man might get suspicious at being denied. "Not too early, mon ami. I like to sleep late." That was in case he fell asleep at all.
"Sure, I'll drop by in the afternoon." Bobby moved to the door. His instincts were going haywire, telling him something was wrong, really wrong. The thing that bugged him most was the blood on Remy's sleeve.
Remy smiled and watched Bobby close the door behind him. Exhausted and relieved, he leaned against the wall. Mon Dieu, Bobby had seen the bloody stain on his sleeve! Stupid! I should have make sure the bandage was in place! Now Bobby knows something's is up. He pushed up the sleeve and sighed, seeing the blood drenched bandage.
While changing the bandage he barely refrained from dabbing at the wound to worsen its bleeding. Knowing that Bobby was suspicious made him cautious. He applied a clean bandage and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Not bothering to change his clothes, he curled up on his side.
Remy, Drake knows. You can't stay at Westchester. Come back to me...
Non! Leave me alone... Sobbing, Remy curled up tighter, trying to ignore the voice in his head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So what happened?" Scott had waited up for Bobby, curious to find out about Remy's reaction to the nightly visit.
Bobby headed for the living room at hearing Scott's voice. A few Twinkies lay scattered over the floor and he did his best to ignore them. He didn't know what Hank had been thinking, but he refused to stuff himself with the lethal sugar rolls. Bobby sat down opposite Scott and gave his friend a thoughtful look. "Something is very wrong."
"Why do you say that?" Scott sipped his warm milk with honey, hoping it would make him sleep later.
"He was acting. What I saw wasn't real. Remy was putting on an act for me." Bobby thought back to the ominous feeling that had swept through him when he had left. "And there was blood on his sleeve. He said he had cut himself accidentally, opening a bottle, but I didn't see any wine."
"What do you think is really going on?" Scott placed his mug on the coffee table. Hell, he felt guilty for letting things spin this much out of control.
Bobby leaned in closer, making eye-contact. "I think he's on the verge of a breakdown. Something's really eating him."
"Should I go get him? Take him back to the mansion?"
Bobby shook his head. "I don't think he wants to be here right now. I offered him to tag along when I leave for New Zealand, but he declined. He kept talking about his dates and the femmes, but he hasn't left the premises for one week at least." Seeing Scott's surprise, he added, "I had monitor duty, remember?"
Scott sighed. "Would it help if I talked to him?"
"I don't know, Slim. I don't know what's going on with Remy, but talking to him might be a start."
"That's settled then. I'm paying him a visit tomorrow."
Bobby settled back in his seat. "We let this slip for too long, Scott. Why?"
Scott shook his head. "Beats me. It's not like us to forget about a teammate. Maybe Remy's making things too easy on us. By moving to the boathouse he disappeared from view and I thought he didn't want us around, maybe that's just an act?"
"That's very well possible." Bobby got to his feet again, waved and wished Scott a good night. As he climbed the stairs to his room, he couldn't stop thinking about the look in Remy's eyes. He had glimpsed a hint of madness in them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Remy? Remember the good times we shared? Remember how much I love you and that you loved me? We were happy. We can have that again. You don't have to hide from me. Your betrayal hurt, but I can overcome that, if you come to me willingly.
"Oh, mon Dieu, just go away and leave me alone!" The voice was back, whispering in to his mind, seducing him with memories that countered his current lonely existence. "You never loved me. You played games, you still do. You don't know what love is!"
No, you showed me. That's why you're special, Remy. You're an empath. You intensified our love, our experiences. I don't want to lose that.
"You lost me a long time ago. You hurt me so bad!" Remy sobbed softly. The presence, the voice inside his mind didn't give in, stayed strong. "I want you to leave me alone!"
I know how much you're hurting. I know what you're doing to yourself. It hurts so bad, being alone, knowing that they don't want you. How did it feel, finding out that they even excluded you from the birthday party? Come on, Remy, be honest with yourself.
It was true, but he wasn't going to admit to it. "They forgot!"
They didn't forget. They know you're staying at the boathouse, on your own. Stop making excuses for them and come back to me. Why are you fighting this?
"Because I don't love you and you don't love me!" Remy's fingers clawed his already injured arm, sought out the still healing wounds and pressed hard, causing him to yelp softly. "Go away!"
It worked. The pain drove away the taunting voice, but then the silence thundered all around him. He kicked off the comforter and jumped to his feet. His stomach convulsed and he quickly covered his mouth with his hand, hoping the birthday cake would stay down. A few moments later, he sighed relieved. It was staying down after all.
Remy slipped into his jeans and sweater and descended the stairs. He felt claustrophobic and he needed to get out in the open. Not bothering to grab his coat, he dashed out of the house and headed for the black lake.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sitting on the cold, wet grass, Remy stared at the tempting black water. If he walked in to it and didn't struggle it would all be over with in a few minutes, but he wasn't ready to give up yet. Damn that voice! If only it would leave him alone!
"Hey, what are you doing out here, Remy?"
Remy startled and he jumped to his feet, ready to defend himself if necessary. His body tense, he tried to keep up the front the X-Men had become used to. "Homme, should be asking what you are doing here. Why ain't you in bed with your beautiful femme?"
Scott cocked his head. "I can't seem to sleep properly these days. So what are you doing out here?"
"Needed some fresh air," said Remy evasively. He had to think fast. "Was just on my way back from my date."
Scott decided not to react to the obvious lie. "It's beautiful out here, isn't it?" He lowered himself on to the grass, just a few inches away from where Remy had been sitting.
Remy, who was totally confused by now, remained standing. What was he supposed to say? Or do?
"Come on, sit down, Remy." Scott signaled the Cajun to sit down beside him. "It's about time we had a little talk."
Frowning, Remy accepted the invitation. He still felt suspicious; why would Scott want to talk to him all of a sudden? Was he getting the boot? Was Scott here to tell him to leave Westchester and never come back again? He wasn't sure he could deal with that.
"I'm sorry we forgot to invite you to Bobby's birthday. It wasn't done on purpose. It just slipped our minds," apologized Scott.
Remy, don't believe him! He's manipulating you! I don't know what he's up to, but he doesn't have your best interest in mind. Be careful!
Remy winced at the return of the voice, but managed to show no outer distress. He didn't want Scott to see how emotionally wrecked he really was. "Don't worry about it. I don't care." That was a big fat lie and the voice in the back of his mind chided him for it.
"I don't believe that." Scott's glance traveled from the lake to Remy's face. It wasn't the first time that the red on black eyes stunned him. They were even spookier in the dark. "I believe you felt left out and rightly so. I'm really sorry about that... Maybe you want to join us for dinner tomorrow evening?"
"I don't think that's a good idea." Remy trembled. He really wanted the company, the distraction, but he couldn't accept the invitation. Warren would be there, Betsy and Rogue and all the other X-Men. "I'm eating out tomorrow anyway, maybe another time." Was it his imagination or did Scott's expression sadden? Had to be his overactive imagination.
"Just remember, the invitation stands." Scott got to his feet. "I should head back before Jean wakes up and gets worried. Please reconsider? We would love to have you over for dinner."
Remy, it's a lie, don't listen to him! He's playing games with you. They don't want you there! If they really did they would have invited you a long time ago! They are up to something!
Remy swallowed hard. He hated to admit it, but the voice was probably right. "Non, thanks anyways." He got to his feet as well and barely repressed a sharp hiss when his arm stung. Maybe the wound had started to bleed again. He should check on it when he got home...
Home, Remy, the boathouse isn't home. Your home is with me.
Remy shook his head firmly. "No, it isn't."
"Remy?" Scott looked up, worried.
"Nothing. I was just thinking aloud," apologized Remy. The cold was suddenly getting to him and he shivered fiercely. "I'd better head back home now..."
Scott watched him leave, barely repressing the urge to follow the Cajun to the boathouse and to talk some sense into the younger man. But no, he had to give Remy time. A wound so deep couldn't heal with one dinner invitation. This would take time. A lot of time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Remy... Remy... I'm still here. Why are you ignoring me? I won't let you sleep, you know that. You'll only know peace once you come back to me.
"Non, stop it, leave me alone. I ain't coming back to you. Just stop it." Remy had tossed and turned in bed for the last few hours. The voice continued to haunt him, never leaving him alone. He craved a few minutes of peace and quiet in his head. The professor of Jean could maybe help him rebuild his former defenses, but that meant letting them in and he refused to do that. He didn't want them to know who was harassing him.
The voice in the back of his head continued to seduce him, but he managed to detach himself from it by focusing on his earlier conversations with Bobby and Scott. It still surprised him that they had admitted to making a mistake by not inviting him. He was almost beginning to believe that they had been honest.
During Bobby's visit the voice had been silent, had stopped harassing him. Would it work again? But how was he supposed to pull that one off? Ring up Bobby and tell him to drop by... again? Bobby would probably laugh at him. But then again, maybe Bobby would come to the boathouse.
Don't count on it, Remy. Drake is merely playing games.
"Non, I refuse to believe that..." He had to believe that Bobby had been sincere if he wanted to hang on to his sanity.
Remy, you're deluding yourself. Drake doesn't want anything to do with you. I am the one who wants to love you, take care of you. Why do you continue to deny me? You know I can take what I want, I'm so much stronger than you... but I want you to come to me out of your own free will.
"Never! I will never choose you! Why can't you accept that!" Remy left his bed and slipped into a pair of wasted jeans and a shirt. He didn't bother to put on boots or a coat. He fled the boathouse and found himself running toward the mansion. Had he finally lost his mind?
He stopped thinking and let his body take over. Within seconds, he was climbing a wall, heading for Bobby's window. Was that it? Was something in his mind convinced that Drake could help?
Do you really want to do this? Remy, do you really want to hear Drake yell for you to get the hell out of his room? The others will hear the commotion and they will chase you out of the house. Don't do this to yourself, Remy.
"Non, you're lying! Bobby won't tell me to leave! He'll let me in!"
Then find out for yourself, Remy.
Suddenly the voice seemed to flee his mind and Remy calmed down. He had reached Bobby's window and sat balanced on the ridge. Looking through the window, and in to Bobby's room, he found that Drake was peacefully asleep in his bed. Apparently it was warm in the room because Bobby was only wearing boxers and he had kicked the covers to the foot end of the bed. Remy felt envious of Bobby's ability to sleep like that. He couldn't remember the last night he had slept peacefully.
Sitting on the ledge like that, he started to feel guilty for spying on Bobby. Drake had no idea that he was being watched. "I should leave. When he sees me..."
Exactly at that moment Bobby stirred. His eyes opened unexpectedly and Remy flinched, as Bobby made eye contact with him. His first reaction was to flee, to jump in to the tree that stood next to the window, to slide down and quickly run back to the boathouse. But then Bobby's lips moved and Remy had no trouble making it out the word.
"Stay..." Bobby jumped out of his bed, and ran over to the window. He opened it, always maintaining eye contact with Remy. "What are you doing out here?" Why hadn't Remy taking the stairs?
"Sorry, Bobby," started Remy, feeling guilty for waking the other man from his sleep. "I don't know what I'm doing here..." But he hoped that while he was here the voice would stay away.
"Come on inside, man, must be cold out there." He frowned, realizing that Remy was bare footed. Remy shivered and Bobby wondered if it was due to the cold or because of something else. He stepped aside and Remy lowered himself on to the floor. Bobby quickly closed the window and then shooed Remy over to the bed. "Sit down..."
Remy hesitantly sat down. He had felt safer out there on the ledge. Now he had to explain why he had come here.
"Cold?" Bobby grabbed a blanket from the bed and draped it across Remy's shoulders. "You're shivering, man."
Remy let him, strangely touched by Bobby's concern. Had he misjudged Drake after all? Thankfully the voice remained quiet, not messing with his head for a change. The silence was like a soothing balm.
"Are you okay, Remy?" Bobby disliked the absentminded expression on Remy's face. The Cajun seemed a million miles away from him, even though he was in the same room with him. Bobby pulled up a chair and sat opposite Remy, catching the tremors that shook the Cajun's hands. For some elusive reason he wanted to clasp his fingers around Remy's hands, but held back. He wasn't sure Remy would welcome his touch. "Remy?"
Remy looked up and flinched. Bobby's compassionate eyes assured him that he was welcome here. The voice had lied! "Don't know why I'm here," he repeated, confused. "Couldn't stay at the boathouse any longer..."
"Yeah, it can get lonely out at the boathouse." Bobby decided to give Remy some time to sort out his thoughts. He would find out later why Remy favored the wall to the stairs. He had never expected to find Remy outside of his window. Remy shivered again and the Cajun's eyes were bleak, lacking their usual gleam. The Cajun looked exhausted, tired. "It's the middle of the night, Remy, wanna nap here?" There had to be a reason why Remy had fled the boathouse.
"Don't wanna impose," protested Remy weakly. "Should go back..." But his body refused to move and he lacked the energy to behave like his usual cocky self. Bobby was already seeing too much of his true self and that scared him. What would Bobby do with the knowledge that he was on the verge of a breakdown?
"The bed should be big enough for the two of us. Just tell me you're not a blanket hog..." But his words were lost on Remy. "Wow, he's already asleep, sitting up like that." Carefully he helped Remy to lie down and made sure the Cajun was comfortable. He briefly considered contacting Scott or Hank to inform them of their nightly visitor, but decided against it. Remy had come to see him, not the others! But that left him with one dead tired Cajun in his bed!
Bobby grinned and lay down as well. Remy was facing him and he noticed the deep lines etched on to Remy's brow. When had those appeared? Frowning, he studied the Cajun closer. One sleeve had moved up Remy's arm, revealing a bandage. "What happened?" His curiosity almost got the better of him and he wanted to check beneath the bandage, but in the end he respected Remy's privacy and didn't.
Barely resisting the urge to touch Remy, Bobby pushed his hands beneath his head. He had always liked Remy, but recent events had driven them apart. Antarctica had changed things between them forever and then there was Rogue. They both had had a crush on her, competed for her attention, but Remy had won in the end. When Rogue and Remy had ended the relationship, he had hoped he would get a shot at a relationship with Rogue, but then found that the attraction was gone. While Remy and Rogue had been together he had seen Rogue do a few things that he didn't approve of, like leaving Remy behind on the ice. Ice was his friend and he couldn't imagine what it had been like for Remy, who had always hated the cold and now more than before.
And now the Cajun had sought him out, for whatever reason. Apparently Remy felt safe here, safe enough to simply fall asleep during a conversation. Now what was that about? Bobby continued to study his unexpected guest. Remy looked worn down, pale, skinny and the Cajun now started to mumble in his sleep, moving about in the bed.
"Hey, it's okay, Remy. I don't know what's going on, but you're okay." Although he had earlier decided not to touch Remy, he now reconsidered and rested his hand on Remy's shoulder, reassuringly rubbing it through the shirt. "It's okay, Remy, it's okay." His words seemed to calm Remy and the Cajun's sleep became peaceful again. What demons haunted Remy's dreams? "I'm gonna find out."
Listening to Remy's steady breathing, he closed his eyes. Lulled into a sense of safety by the warm presence next to him, he dozed off as well.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Remy yawned, stretched and settled back in the warm embrace. Smiling, he enjoyed feeling a warm body close to him. What? A warm body? Merde! His eyes flashed open, scared to find himself in the wrong embrace. He sighed relieved, looking at Bobby's face. Mon Dieu, now he began to remember! Last night he had left the boathouse and had come here in an attempt to chase away the voice and it had worked. This was the first night of undisturbed sleep that he had had during weeks!
Bobby had opened the window and invited him, had told him to take a nap and was now sharing his bed with him. He had completely misjudged Bobby!
No, you didn't misjudge him, Remy. Come on, be honest. You know why he allowed you in his bed! You know what he wants, what I want. We want your body, your love. You're a wet dream come true. You might want to run now, before Drake wants to collect, or are you willing to pay his price?
Merde, the voice was back, voicing his worst fear. Non, you're wrong! Bobby ain't like that! He ain't like you!
Remy, are you sure you want to find out? I suggest you get moving now or do you want to find out the hard way? Do you still remember what it feels like to be made love to? To be fucked? Do you want to experience it again? Don't let Drake do that to you. You know you're meant to be with me only.
"Stop it! Just stop it! He ain't like that!" Remy wanted to free himself of the embrace but felt frozen when Bobby's concerned eyes opened and locked with his.
"What's going on, Remy?" Seeing the Cajun's distress, Bobby immediately backed off, releasing Remy from his embrace. He sat upright, farther increasing the distance between them. "What do you want to stop?" He hadn't been doing anything inappropriate in his sleep, had he? God, he would feel damned embarrassed if he had!
Remy closed his eyes, unable to deal with Bobby's expression. "It ain't you..." Remy scrambled to his feet and left the bed, leaning against the wall. Merde, he felt weak like a kitten!
That's it, Remy, move away from him. Open the door and leave, come back to me! Don't stay here!
"Stop it!" Tears, that had lurked in his eyes, suddenly surfaced and he slid down the wall until he landed on his butt. He pulled up his knees and rocked slowly.
"Remy?" Worried Bobby quickly joined Remy, sitting on his heels in front of the Cajun. "Remy?" Fuck, Remy was crying! Tears rolled down the Cajun's face and Bobby felt helpless. Maybe this was a good time to contact Scott or Hank? But no, Remy would never forgive him if they saw him in this way. "What's wrong? Why don't you tell me?"
"Can't tell you..." Remy quickly wiped away his tears, trying to compose himself again. "I should leave."
"Oh no, you're not leaving before I know what's going on." But Bobby realized how important it was that Remy had some privacy right now. "Promise me not to leave while I'm gone?"
"Where are you going?" Remy, who had calmed down somewhat, stared at Bobby.
"I'm going to get us some coffee and bagels. I don't know about you, but I need some breakfast."
Remy shrugged. "I ain't hungry."
Bobby didn't really believe it. "Just promise me you won't leave. I want to talk to you, okay?" Bobby hoped Remy would accept.
"I promise," whispered Remy defeated.
Stupid! What a stupid thing to do! Drake just wants to get in your pants. Don't let his so called concern for you fool you, Remy!
"Just shut up!" Remy clutched his head, rocking again.
"Why don't I move you back to the bed? You'll be warm and more comfortable there." Bobby noticed the way Remy flinched when he helped the Cajun to his feet, but didn't comment on it. Within seconds, he had Remy tucked safely away in his bed. "Just stay there."
Remy was too exhausted to protest. The voice was silent now, but for how much longer?
Bobby slipped into some jeans and a shirt and left the room. He leaned against the door after closing it. What had he gotten himself in to? And damn it, he couldn't go behind Remy's back and contact Hank! He sighed and his stomach growled. "Breakfast first and then we'll see what happens next." He headed for the kitchen, poured them some coffee, buttered some toast, added some bagels and carried the tray upstairs. Thankfully he encountered no one. "Please be still there, Remy."
He realized that he had been holding his breath when he let it out after opening the door to his room. Remy was still in bed all right, eyes tightly shut. "Coffee?" Bobby carried the tray to the bed, placed it on the nightstand and handed Remy a mug filled with the black liquid.
"Merci, Bobby." Remy opened his eyes and met Bobby's curiously concerned glance. "You must think I went mad."
"No, not mad, but I'm worried that something's wrong with you." Bobby took a bite from his bagel. "Remy, what's going on?"
Remy sighed. He couldn't tell Bobby. "I don't know. I haven't felt that great lately."
Bobby decided to push. "Earlier on you wanted it to stop. What do you want to stop?"
Remy's eyes widened as Bobby placed a hand on top of his. The warm, human contact almost took his breath away. In a daze, he heard himself answer Bobby's question. "The voice..."
"What voice?" Bobby frowned, feeling tremors course through Remy's body. He squeezed Remy's hand reassuringly, letting the Cajun know that he wasn't alone. "I didn't hear a thing."
"The voice inside my head," said Remy reluctantly.
Don't tell him! Don't you dare tell him, LeBeau! This is between you and me!
"I can't... I can't deal with it any more..." Remy sought out Bobby's eyes, mentally preparing himself for the disgust that would shortly shine from them.
"Whose voice is inside your head, Remy?" Bobby moved a little closer, his eyes glued to Remy's stare.
Don't you dare, LeBeau! If you do, you will suffer the consequences!
Remy knew he was digging his own grave, but the pressure was too much. "Sinister's."