Title: Heaven sent 2

Author: Morgana (morganalebeau@yahoo.com)

Website: http://www.oocities.org/morganalebeau/

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Heaven sent

By Morgana

 

Chapter Six

Breathe

You don't have to hear my heart beat
All you need is to look into my eyes
And tell me I'm the one your heart needs
I'm the only one you run to in the night
Oh let me burn the words forever mine
Across your heart, across your mind

Blackie Lawless/ W.A.S.P

It's still dark enough outside for them to make their way to the cathedral unnoticed. Warren lets Remy guide their steps, realizing he has no clue where they are going. If it were up to him, he would immediately return to his hotel. He's leaning heavily on the Cajun, but is still lucid enough to notice that LeBeau's steps are faltering too.
"We should go to my hotel, not some deserted church," Warren objects again. His knees are about to give out on him and he will probably take down Gambit as well should he fall. Although Remy's trying to act like he's fine, Warren distinctly remembers his bandaged wrist.
"Non, that would be stupid," Remy replies fatigued. He already explained this! "Whoever wants you dead is waitin' for you back at your hotel!"
//Damn, Cajun's right!// Warren hadn't really thought that far ahead, or maybe it's the painkiller that's messing with his mind? "How much longer?" he asks, tired and eager to rest.
"We're almost dere," Remy says reassuringly and leads them inside the abandoned crypts.
Suddenly, Warren realizes where they are. "What are we doing here?" His skin turns to goose flesh as Remy drags him passed the long forgotten graves. This place reminds him of the Morlock tunnels and gives him the creeps!
"Dead can' hurt you," Remy whispers in a respectful tone. "And we can' hurt dem."
Warren gives him a questioning look, never expecting such a remark from LeBeau. It only serves to remind him that Gambit really lost his memory. He's determined to talk this over once they reach their destination.
"Père Etienne locks de doors at 20.00. Dis is our only way in." Remy looks about, picks the right corridor and gathers his last amount of strength. He's practically dragging Warren through the corridor and he isn't sure he can make it to père Etienne's rooms tired and exhausted as he is.
"Gambit," Warren starts, feels the fierce flinch of the body supporting him and wonders about LeBeau's reaction. "I can't walk much farther." Truth be told, he feels like fainting every moment now.
Remy grits his teeth and pulls his angel into père Etienne's rooms. "Père? You here?" he calls out softly. The priest is probably soundly asleep, but as he peeks into the bedroom he finds it empty.
Suddenly, Warren drops to his knees and Remy goes down as well. "De bedroom," he whispers. "You'll be warm dere."
Warren hears the words, but can't move. He feels paralysed and his injury is acting up again. Warm blood drips down the bandages. The wound has opened again.
As he looks up, Remy sees the pain in those blue eyes. Something warm drips onto his left hand and his heart misses a beat, realizing it's blood. //Can' give up now! Get to your feet!// he chides himself privately. He's swaying, but somehow he manages to pull Warren onto his feet as well. Slowly, he carries the nearly unconscious man into the bedroom. "Lie down," he instructs in a soft tone.
Warren suddenly realizes what tight hold he has on LeBeau. His right fist refuses to let go and buried itself in Gambit's shirt.
"It's 'kay, ange. You're safe here? mais, I've got to redress de wound." Remy quickly retrieves the small bag and starts laying out new bandages, balm and the painkillers. Maybe he should give Warren something against the pain first. "Be right back."
Through half closed eyelids Warren watches him hurry into the kitchen. These last few hours turned his world upside down. He desperately wants to find out what happened to Gambit after Antarctica, but he also realizes that Remy doesn't have any answers as long as he's amnesic. And what to tell the Cajun and what to leave out? Darn! He has so much thinking to do, but he feels so weak from the recent blood loss.
"Here, take dese," Remy kneels beside the bed and slips one hand underneath Warren's neck. "Dey will take 'way de pain."
Warren stares at the pills in the palm of LeBeau's hand. He doesn't have a valid reason to distrust the Cajun right now, but?
But the suspicious look Warren shoots him makes Remy choke up. His angel doesn't trust him and that hurts. "I won' hurt you," he promises in a burst of passion.
Hearing that last assurance urges him to lock eyes with Remy. Honestly, he hardly recognizes the thief he once knew in the man kneeling next to his bed. Remy's face is an open book, asking for trust and filled with a promise that he will take care of him.
//I hate him!// Warren thinks resolved. //I hate LeBeau! He worked for Sinister and never told us! If he hadn't gathered the Marauders, the Massacre would never have happened!//
//Are you so sure about that?// his conscience replies in a berating tone. //What if Remy LeBeau refused to work for Sinister? Someone else would have taken his place. Sinister wanted the Morlocks dead. Gambit never knew Sinister's real plan. Remy LeBeau was only an instrument and you know it!//
//Shut up!// Warren thinks angrily. He never had the courage to ponder all possibilities, fearing the outcome. What if he misjudged LeBeau in the past?
"Ange? You listenin'?" Remy asks concerned. He's still offering Warren the painkillers, hoping the man will accept them. He hates the fact that his angel is in pain. "Changin' de bandages will hurt."
With a deep sigh, Warren nods his head and swallows the pills along with a sip of water. "Now what?"
"Lean 'gainst me," Remy says gently and picks up the balm and bandages. "Your wound's open 'gain."
Reluctantly, Warren obeys and sits upright. Suddenly, Remy's hands pull him forward until his head rests on LeBeau's shoulder. Feeling uncomfortable, he forces himself to remain motionless as Gambit removes the blood-drenched bandages.
Remy works in silence, concentrating on his task and manages to remove the bandages without causing Warren pain. "Dat's better," he mumbles pleased. "De wound shows no sign of infection."
But Warren barely hears the words, struck by the tenderness displayed in Remy's ministrations. Each time those fingertips smooth the balm over his back, they express such care and caution that it makes him look up into those red on black eyes.
"Gambit?" he whispers eventually and again the Cajun's body rocks with tremors. Why does he react like that whenever he hears his name? Warren tries a different approach. "Remy?"
This time, Remy looks up and feels courageous enough to lock eyes with Warren. "Oui?" He puts away the balm and finishes dressing the wound. Bien, that looks just fine.
Speechless, Warren stares into helpless eyes. "Thanks," he mumbles eventually. The question he originally wanted to ask, is forgotten. "You're not faking this," he realizes in sudden understanding. "You have no idea who you are, or who I am," he states with frightening certainty.
Remy tries to get to his feet, but Warren has a tight hold on his left wrist. Thankfully, it isn't his right one, which is pounding with pain. Lost for words, he can't offer Warren an explanation.
Eventually, Warren releases him and shakes his head. "You WILL tell me what you remember when I feel better."
Remy nods his head. "If dat's what you want, mais now you need to rest."
Again, the sincerity in that voice takes Warren aback. //Damn!// Seeing the reverie in those eyes makes him feel uncomfortable. // I have to tell him I'm a mutant and no real angel!// he realizes just before falling asleep.
Pleased, Remy smiles and covers his angel with warm blankets. He plans on starting a fire in the fireplace to raise the temperature. Sitting down on the side of the bed he fingers a golden lock, savouring its softness.
In the end, his angel trusted him after all! Feeling victorious, he tucks Warren in and then leaves to start the fire.

Two hours later, he's still sitting in front of the fireplace. Warren's soundly asleep and not suffering from any nightmares, so he uses the moment to think things over.
Gambit.
Instinctively, he knows it's his name, but he still hates it and it's obvious that Warren dislikes his company. Warren only tolerates his presence because he has no choice! With a deep sigh, Remy tries to distract himself and reads the instructions on his sleeping meds.
Père Etienne once convinced him to take one and he did sleep surprisingly well. But the priest isn't here now and he has to look after a wounded angel. Although his eyes close regularly, he struggles to stay awake. He has to be awake in case his angel needs him.
Slowly, feeling stiff and too old for his age, he rises from the floor. He throws the meds onto the kitchen table and then heads into the bedroom. Warren's asleep, resting on his left side and his wings cover most of the bed and push against the wall. Every so often, they quiver.
Unable to just stand there Remy approaches the bed and sucks in a deep breath. Just one more time? he prays privately. He wants to touch those wings one more time, just to convince himself that they are fine.
Hesitantly, his left hand descends onto the left wing and he gently strokes the feathers. Warren releases a strangled moan and he jumps back, afraid that his action will disturb his angel's sleep.
//Mon ange.// Slowly, he realizes that he's been thinking like that ever since this angel crossed his path. His angel. He can't explain this reaction. It's something that goes too deep for him to understand and it's probably tied to a past he doesn't remember.
//Mais oui, you're mon ange. I'll care for you as long as you need me. I won' let dem kill you. Won' let dem. You're bad of wid me as your protector. I can hardly defend myself and now I need to take care of you too! Mais I will do my best!//
He pulls the mattress, which père Etienne offered him, closer to the bed and lies down. //Not goin' to take de meds,//he decides saddened. Oui, he wants to sleep without being tormented by nightmares, but he can't run the risk that Warren needs him. Sedated, he's useless to his angel. Non, it's his duty to keep a vigil and stay awake as long as necessary.
Five minutes later, he slips into sleep without ever realizing it.

"These are your new wings? Death."
Warren screams, as that ominous voice roars through his mind. Apocalypse's eyes stare at him and the abysmal face transforms into a mask of horror. "NO!" he screams in panic. "Don't do this to me!"
But Apocalypse doesn't listen to his pleas. The bastard never does and again he re-lives the pain of those wings bursting from his back, settling against his shoulders with an awful heavy weight. "These aren't my wings!" Warren pleads in a choked tone. "Please let me go!"
"No," Apocalypse's voice booms, "I got plans for you!"
And then? then his mind jumps to the moment when the metal/organic wings give way for his old feathered ones. An old man hovers above him, telling him that he's Apocalypse's servant. He instinctively knows that Apocalypse planned this from the start and he tries to hide his fear. "What do you want from me?" he moans in pain.
"Ange?" Remy quickly crawls over to the bed. He's alarmed, realizing that Warren wants to leave his bed. "Stay, ange, you can' walk on your own!"
But Warren never registers the words. Apocalypse's face hovers in front of him and the words cut through his soul.
"Angel of hope," Apocalypse sneers. "How can you possibly think of yourself in that way? You don't bring hope. You bring death and destruction. You judge without compassion or understanding. Yes, you will make an excellent Horseman!"
"No." This time, Warren only manages a whimper. "Please leave me alone!"
Confused, Remy kneels next to the bed. Warren is struggling with the blankets, which wrap themselves tighter around his fighting body. "What can I do?" he asks helplessly. He knows only too well that nightmares can push someone over the edge, make someone violent out of fear. "Want to help."
From somewhere a different voice is calling out to him and it slowly pushes Apocalypse's face away. //Gambit,// Warren realizes with a start; the traitor responsible for his misery! LeBeau gathered the Marauders who damaged his wings! His eyes flash open and he wants to lash out at the Cajun, when pleading eyes suddenly stop him.
//Those eyes,// Warren realizes with a start, //are filled with pain like mine.// That realization calms him down.
"You had a nightmare," Remy says awkwardly, trying to break the silence that lingers between them. He truly expected Warren to attack him. For one brief moment the hatred in those blue eyes was aimed at him with frightening intensity. What did he do to cause such pain and why doesn't the angel just tell him what a terrible bastard he really is? Warren certainly has a valid reason to hate him. What did he do in the past that justifies such hate?
"I know that!" Warren snarls and leans back into the pillows. Gambit's presence pulled him away from the nightmare and for that he should feel grateful, but he doesn't. After all, the thief caused his pain in the first place!
"Want to talk 'bout it?" Remy suggests cautiously. " I felt better after talkin' to père Etienne. I'll listen? not talk?"
Warren considers the offer. Sooner or later, they will have to face their past. Better start now. "Get me something to drink," Warren says in an authoritative tone. "Please," he adds eventually.
Hearing that little word brightens Remy's face and he smiles. "Mais oui!"
A moment later, he returns with a cup of père Etienne's herbal tea. "It's hot," he warns Warren and allows him to take a small sip.
Warren sighs heavily. Remy's current behavior confuses him greatly and he doesn't know what to say, or how to react to this quickly frightened Cajun. Best to handle this carefully.
"Do you remember Apocalypse?" he says after taking another sip of his tea. Remy's fingers twitch underneath his neck and his face grows pale. //At least I'm getting some kind of response!//
"Apocalypse?" Remy repeats mystified. The name sets off a burst of fear, but he doesn't know why. "Not sure?" he says eventually. "Mais I don' like de name. Did he hurt you?"
Remy's child-like manner puts him off-balance and Warren doesn't know how to reply. But in the end the words come surprisingly easy. "He violated my soul."
Remy shivers, remembering the old man that haunts his own dreams. "I'm so sorry," he admits in a shaky tone. Now that they are opening Pandora's box anyway, he feels the time has come to ask his other questions as well. "Why do you hate me? What did I do to you? When did we meet? What kind of person am I?" He loses control over his emotions and quickly retreats to the doorway.
Warren pushes his back deeper into the comfort of the pillows and considers his answer. Damn, this is hard! When he first saw those eyes, he just wanted to lash out and hurt LeBeau for all the pain the Cajun had put him through, but something changed.
He isn't sure what caused it, but he simply can't hurt Gambit intentionally. The expression in those demon eyes tear at his soul and Apocalypse's words return to mock him. //Angel of hope? How can you possibly think of yourself in that way? You don't bring hope. You bring death and destruction. You judge without compassion or understanding. //
That statement makes him cringe in shock. Damn! Apocalypse is right! He always prides himself on bringing hope. His angel wings always inspired him to fight for good, but time after time he failed. Yes, he judged LeBeau during that trial in Antarctica, telling the Cajun to defend himself, but?
He will never go as far as Rogue did. Straining his memory he tries to recall her words. She insisted that Gambit was to blame for the Massacre and that he had betrayed their trust. That he solely was responsible for the loss of his wings and that he had finally been punished. Rogue had refused to go into details, but she had told him that Gambit had died in Antarctica.
//No, that's where I draw the line,// Warren muses. //I refused to defend him during the trial after learning the truth, but I will never try to kill a teammate!// This realization confuses him a little.
"Ange?" Remy says concerned. The absentminded expression in Warren's eyes worries him. Slowly, he sneaks closer. Why won't his angel answer his questions?
Warren shakes his head, forcing himself back to the present. He still has a lot of thinking to do, but Gambit looks mortified and he can't stand that particular facial expression. Well, he's awake now and feels no desire to go back to sleep, so maybe this is the right moment to talk.
"Sit down," Warren orders and gestures at the side of his bed. Surprised, he notices the alarmed expression in Remy's eyes. "You've got nothing to fear from me," he says reassuringly, wondering about that sudden fear in Remy's eyes.
Gingerly, Remy sits down on the bed and waits for Warren to continue. He's shaking violently, scared to finally learn the black truth about himself.
"Are you scared of me?" Warren inquires puzzled.
"Oui," Remy admits shakily. "You're here to judge me."
"Judge you?" Warren asks questioningly. "Why do you think that?"
"You're an ange? You know every sin I ever committed. You're here to punish me, non?" Now that he said it, the possible outcome of this conversation no longer scares him. He can only hope that his angel will judge him fairly.
Displeased, Warren raises an eyebrow. He should tell Gambit that he is a mutant and no real angel, but he's scared it will only intimidate the Cajun. Furthermore, he isn't sure he should answer Gambit's earlier questions. It will be too much information at once and Remy won't be able to deal with it. No, he needs more information first.
"What do you remember, Remy?" Part of him can hardly accept that he's helping his former teammate, the man responsible for so much pain and death. But he's determined to prove Apocalypse wrong!
Remy shifts on the bed, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. "A few mont's ago I woke up in a hospital."
"Stop." Warren rests his head against the pillows. "What hospital? Where did they find you?"
Remy shrugs his shoulders. "Houston. I hitchhiked to get to N'awlings."
"Okay," Pleased, Warren stores away this information. "Carry on."
"De doctors realized dat I'd lost my memory and wanted to send me to an institution to recover."
Warren raises a hand to stop him. "Did you have other injuries? Or just the memory loss?" Remy's chaotic rambling doesn't give him much information, maybe he should ask questions instead?
Remy shivers and avoids those blue eyes. "Why? Is dat important?"
"Yes, it is," Warren sighs exasperated. "We need clues to what happened to you after?" //After Antarctica,// he finishes privately.
"Frostbite," Remy whispers ill at ease. "My hands and feet hurt."
"Okay, now we're getting somewhere," Warren replies pleased. //That means he somehow found his way back from Antarctica? will have to find out how he did that.//
After shooting Warren a puzzled look, Remy adds, "I was found wearing dese? do you know what dey are?" He doubts his angel will tell him, but he has to try and pushes up his sleeves. "De doctors can' remove dem."
Warren whistles impressed, seeing the remainders of Eric the Red's shackles. Determinedly, his fingers explore the metal. //The substance in the shackles prevents him from using his powers. That means?// His eyes seek out Remy's. //That means that he has no idea he's a mutant!//
"Do you know what dey are?" Remy repeats his question, taken aback by the perplexed look in Warren's eyes.
"Yes," he says eventually. "We'll have to find a way to get rid of them." Only now he realizes that Gambit never used his charging power when he saved him from the sniper. Now he knows why. "Once we get back to the hotel I'll ask a friend of mine to help us remove them." Warren nods his head. Yes, Logan's adamantium claws will cut through those shackles like a hot knife through butter.
"Can' go to de hotel," Remy warns him again. "Dey're waitin' for you."
The stabbing pain in his back grows stronger and tires Warren. His next words stun even him. "Remy, you need to clean that cut above your eye before it gets infected." His eyes almost pop out of their sockets. Did he really say that?
"Will do," Remy promises oddly pleased. He doesn't know how to feel about the fact that he didn't get his answers, but at least his angel isn't that hostile any more. "Anyt'in' else you want me to do?"
Briefly, Warren closes his eyes. "Get some sleep, Remy," he whispers and cracks one eye open. Remy's ragged appearance tells him that the Cajun lived a hard life these last months. "We'll talk later."
Remy doesn't even consider objecting and meekly lies down on the mattress. "You're bien?" he asks, concerned that the nightmares will return to torment his angel.
"Yes, I'm just fine," Warren replies softly, trying hard to ignore the pain shooting through his back. But he endured worse and knows that once he's asleep the pain will be forgotten.
But before he surrenders to sleep, he steals one more glance at Gambit, who's asleep already. "Looks like we're in this together, LeBeau," he whispers melancholy and stares at the ceiling.
His eyelids close and he knows Apocalypse is waiting for him in his dreams. But this time red on black eyes flash protectively in his mind, driving away the nightmare, leaving him in a peaceful sleep.

 

Chapter Seven

Warren is the first to open his eyes. Disorientated, he looks about. Where the hell is he? Then, slowly, he remembers everything. His next glance is for Gambit, still curled up on the mattress.
Moonbeams illuminate the bedroom and for the first time, he really sees the change on LeBeau's face. Why does the Cajun thief suddenly look this terribly young and lost? Curled up in fetal position, he looks completely helpless. The band-aid slipped from his brow during the night and reveals dirty and blood dried skin.
Warren struggles to sit upright and finally rests his back against the wall. For some reason he can't take his eyes off Remy, who's mumbling in his sleep. If it hadn't been for LeBeau, he would be dead now. Remy saved his ass.
Last night's conversation drifts back into his mind. So, Gambit woke in a hospital in Houston? It's a long way from Antarctica to Houston? how did he get there?
Cautiously, he places his feet on the floor, trying hard not to wake the sleeping Cajun. Remy looks like he desperately needs the sleep. He also wants to find out how strong, or weak, he really is. Can he make it to the kitchen by himself? He needs something to drink.
He stubbornly ignores the stab of pain that shoots through his back. Pain is something he can deal with as long as his wings are all right! Looking over his shoulder, he releases a sigh, seeing the white feathers, faintly stained with blood. He owes his life to LeBeau!
Gingerly, he rises from the bed and suppresses a hiss that threatens to leave his lips. //Just ignore the pain!// he tells himself and takes a first step towards the doorway.
Suddenly, he remembers where LeBeau took him. This is a church, a cathedral. Why would Gambit seek shelter here? The Cajun is rich and can rent rooms in the most expensive hotels. Why not use the money on his bank account? Remy showed of his credit cards more than once to pester him.
//Because he lost his memory, you moron,// his conscience replies impatiently.
Warren smiles bitterly and wishes his conscience would finally shut up. It always rears its ugly head at most inconvenient times!
It takes him several minutes to cover the distance, but eventually, he's standing in the kitchen area. He's feeling stronger and no longer suffering from vertigo. Remy LeBeau took great care of his injury, he admits reluctantly.
Warren fills a glass with water and slowly empties it. No matter what Gambit says, he wants to return to his hotel ASAP. He needs to take action against the assassins, or at least try and talk some sense into them!
His glance flutters through the kitchen in search of food when they unexpectedly hit the meds, casually thrown onto the kitchen table. Carefully minding his injury, he sits down and stretches his long legs. His fingers turn the small box around. "John Doe," he reads softly. "They really have no idea who he is? How did he get into the hospital? Who brought him there?"
Puzzled, he fumbles the instructions. Sleeping meds. Satisfied, he puts it down and grabs the second package. This one turns out to be a little more intriguing. It's a sedative, designed to slow down the neural activity in the brain. Looks like the doctors hoped that once Remy felt safe and relaxed it would trigger his memories.
//How does it feel?// he wonders. //Having no memories? Not knowing who you are and what you did?// Briefly, he wonders if that's a curse or a blessing. He would love to forget about Apocalypse! //And I'm sure Remy has some personal demons as well.//
Sinister.
//Apocalypse almost destroyed me? I guess LeBeau feels the same way about Sinister.// And for the first time, he feels some sort of connection to the Cajun. They have both been used and then thrown away by mutants too strong to fight. Maybe, Sinister forced Gambit to work for him, like Apocalypse forced him to be his Horseman? It's an alarmingly unsettling thought! //No!// Warren objects, //LeBeau worked for Sinister because?//
//Because what?// his conscience acts up again. //Did you ever ask Gambit why he worked for Sinister?//
"He never told us," Warren mumbles uncomfortably. Even during the trial LeBeau refused to give any extra information. "Okay!" he whispers angrily, "maybe I should ask him!"
A moan, coming from the bedroom, attracts his attention and while taking a deep breath, he gets to his feet. The short walk over to the kitchen tired him. LeBeau was right? again! He needs more rest!
As he enters the bedroom, he halts in his tracks. "What?" he whispers puzzled. Gambit has left the mattress and now sits huddled in the corner of the room. Knees pulled up to his chest, arms tightly wrapped around his legs, he's trying hard to hide his face in his hands.
Remy's body is shaking fiercely with remembered pain. In his dreams, his subconscious tries to show him what he has forgotten, but he fights the awareness. The pain is a terrible cold, a cold that's slowly eating itself a way into his bones. The cold is unlike the chill he felt in the abandoned basement. This cold is in his very cells and makes him whimper in pain.
Nothing can stop this cold. It's already halfway through his heart and marches on without hesitation, devouring the little hope he has left. "Cold? cold?" he whispers his pain, wondering how much longer this will last.
Warren takes a few steps closer and then remains motionless. Part of him remembers Gambit holding him close during his own nightmares, but can he do the same for the Cajun? Does he want to comfort a traitor?
"De Cold? why is it so cold?" Remy whispers in his twilight state and tries to hug himself even tighter, to no avail. The cold continues to burn his body, slowly and methodically. He no longer feels his feet or hands. They're numb.
Warren takes a deep breath and sits down on his bed. His mind is at war with itself. Part of him wants to see the Cajun suffer in misery, but then there is this other part, that wants to help, wants to soothe, wants to bring hope. Briefly, he fears going insane, as these sides of his personality try to dominate his actions.
The snow now covers his entire body and Remy yelps his agony. Snow keeps his eyes from opening and the cold weight presses him deeper into the ice. It's so cold! Tears flow down his face, tears which he couldn't cry while he was buried in ice. They froze solid in his eyes!
Warren wrings his hands. Damn! He can't bear to listen to those yelps any longer! Damn! He can't just sit here and let the Cajun cry and whimper! Surprised at his own reaction, he slowly lowers himself onto the mattress. Suddenly, the pain in his back no longer matters! Why is he doing this? Why does he react like this? //I hate him!//
//No, you don't,// his conscience chides him.
This time, Warren doesn't tell it to shut up, as he slowly realizes it's the truth. He disapproves of Gambit's actions in the past, yes, but can't put all blame on the man sobbing beside him.
"Gam?" Warren stops himself just in time, remembering that hearing that name tends to upset the Cajun. "Remy?"
Remy shudders violently, but is too deeply tangled in his nightmare to respond. The cold has wrapped itself around him like a blanket, which suffocates him. Just when he thinks things can't get worse, an awfully familiar voice roars in his ears.
"NON!" he exclaims in dread as the old man takes shape in his mind. The vile eyes devour every inch of his body.
"Remy!" Warren tries again, displeased that the Cajun isn't reacting. What else can he do to reach him? The sobbing turns into terrified moans and that worries him. //And I thought my nightmares were bad!// Awkwardly, he moves a little closer, cursing his injury. "Remy, can you hear me at all?"
The voice in Remy's head grows stronger. The old man is yelling, cursing his stubbornness and suddenly, he realizes why the old man is this damned angry. "I tried to escape," he mumbles and flinches as sharp nails dig into his throat.
"Escape?" Warren shakes his head. "Escape from whom?" he asks concerned. Remy's getting worse, shaking himself to pieces. "Remy?" At a loss, he raises a hand and places it on LeBeau's shoulder.
"DON' TOUCH ME!"
Warren crawls back at that sudden outburst of pain and terror. "Damnit! I'm trying to help you!" he hisses frustrated. Whatever is tormenting Remy in his dreams, is extremely powerful and he isn't sure he can break its hold. "Have it your way then!" Angry, he turns his back on the Cajun, whose body is tortured by erratic tremors. //If you don't want help, that's just fine!//
"Don' touch me?" Remy whispers in a sudden subdued tone. Fighting the old man never helps. There are too many other boys that will hold him down, as they want to escape a similar fate at the old man's hands. Why did he try to run away? The old man will never let him go!
Frustrated like hell, Warren recomposes himself, hearing the soft sobs leaving Remy's lips. Damn, he can't turn his back on the Cajun! In the back of his head he hears Bobby, calling him a softie. Well, Drake is the only one who knows him, really knows him! He doesn't have a choice; he has to try again. There has to be a way to reach LeBeau!
Remy tries to avoid getting hit by the old man, but too many hands keep him in place. Sharp nails tear open his skin and he surrenders to the beating, knowing only too well that there's no way out for him. Unexpectedly, a kind face appears in his mind. It's père Etienne, the only person he trusts.
Warren kneels next to him, determined to give it one last try. "Remy?" he whispers and cautiously rests a hand on the Cajun's shoulder. "I want to help you," he says reassuringly, encouraged now that Remy stopped shaking. "Let me help you." Is he really doing this? Is he really reaching out to this man, who he loathes so much?
"Père?" Remy whispers in a broken tone. The priest only showed him trust and kindness and he craves entrusting himself to the old priest. "Père? Hold me? Please?" he begs softly, never expecting to be hugged, to be held close, but that's what happens. Strong arms enfold him in a powerful embrace, promising protection.
Relieved, Warren sighs and rests his head against the wall. Remy's in his arms, holding on tight and crying against his chest. What the hell scared the Cajun? What are his nightmares about? He wants those questions answered.
"Jus' hold me?" Remy pleads in a begging tone. He feels safe and protected in these arms and the old man can't reach him here. "The Antiquary?" he whispers shocked, suddenly remembering the man's name. "He hates me?"
"The Antiquary?" Warren repeats questioningly and stores the name away for future use. Will Remy remember that name once he's full awake? The sobs lessen in intensity. The emotional storm is over, but he can't bring himself to let go yet. Remy still trembles with fear. The Cajun still needs him.
"It's okay, Remy. Everything will be fine," he says soothingly. Suddenly, he feels trapped. What if LeBeau's playing him? A glance at the tear stained face, resting against his chest, destroys his suspicion. Gambit's not acting. This is for real. "Who's the Antiquary?" he asks, hoping Remy's waking up.
Hearing that question almost freaks him out again. Suddenly, the arms holding him close are holding him prisoner and he screams, struggling wildly to get away from his assailant. Distance, he needs to put distance between them!
"Remy, calm down!" Warren whispers urgently. His first reaction is to yell at the dazed Cajun, but something tells him that it will only push Remy deeper into hysterics! Damn! If only he had a clue to what the hell was going on! One moment Remy is screaming not to touch him and the next, begging to be held!
Remy finally manages to flee his nightmare and scared to death, he opens his eyes, fully expecting the Antiquary to loom over him. But all he sees are shocked blue eyes.
"Remy? It's okay. I'm not going to hurt?" Warren stops mid-sentence, feeling like he's balancing on the edge of a revelation. He can only think of one reason why Remy's reacting like this, abuse. Is the Cajun reliving some childhood abuse? Warren realizes that he has to act VERY carefully and says, "You're awake again, Remy?"
Ashamed of his behavior Remy stares at the wall. "It was jus' a nightmare," he states, lying to cover up the truth, a truth he can't face yet. A truth, he doesn't want to remember.
"I know about nightmares," Warren replies eventually, deciding against bringing up the Antiquary. He wants Remy to calm down first. Remy looks like a cornered animal with no way out. Maybe a different tactic will work. "Can you help me back onto the bed? My back hurts."
Shakily, Remy reacts and pushes himself onto his feet. //Forget de nightmare!// he orders himself. //Mon ange needs help!// Warren extends one hand and accidentally he offers his hurt wrist as support. As Warren's fingers close around it, he fails to suppress a whimper of pain.
Warren lets go at once and climbs onto the bed. "Let me have a look at your wrist," he says determinedly.
Remy shuffles his feet, uncertain what to do. When he woke, he panicked, having no idea where he was and who was with him. "I'm sorry," he whispers ashamed.
"Don't be," Warren says steadfast. "Now sit down and let me have a look at your injuries." This situation has certainly taken an unexpected turn. Here he's sitting, offering to check on Remy's injuries. Didn't he use to hate the Cajun? Confused, he postpones exploring his motives and feelings. "That cut's bleeding again."
"It's rien," Remy says dismissively and sways on his feet.
"Stop being stubborn and sit down!" Warren orders in an authoritative tone. His eyes already noticed the first-aid kit at the head end of the bed.
Finally caving in Remy sits down reluctantly. "You don' need to do dis. I can take care of myself." Uneasy, he watches how Warren goes through the content of the first-aid kit.
"You dressed my wound, didn't you?" Warren cunningly silences him. "Now let me do the same or can I still not touch you?"
That last question causes shivers to run down his spine. How much did he give away during his nightmares? "Don' like to be touched," he admits gingerly. However, he doesn't struggle as Warren disinfects the cut above his eye. "Mais you're an ange and won' hurt me, oui?"
Taken aback, Warren stares into his eyes, gasping as he sees the trust in them. He should tell Remy that he isn't a real angel, but? can the Cajun's fragile mind deal with that information? No, he has to wait a little longer. "I won't hurt you," he promises in an unguarded moment, surprising the hell out of himself with that vow.
Remy nods his head after Warren put a new band-aid over the cut. "I knew dat from de start."
//Shit!// Warren curses privately. It's unsettling, knowing that LeBeau trusts him unconditionally. It makes him uncomfortable. "What happened to your wrist?" he inquires as he removes the dirty bandage.
"A fight." Remy looks away as Warren probes his wrist, which is still bruised. "Don' worry 'bout it," he says shyly. Why is his angel suddenly this interested in his well being and where did that hostility go?
"Why were you fighting?" Warren bandages the wrist again, impatiently waiting for an answer. "Well?"
Remy cringes as he speaks. "De bastard wanted to fuck me for money."
"What did you say?" Warren drops the bandages and stares big-eyed at Remy.
"Wanted to fuck me for money!" Remy repeats at a loss. "He t'ought I was a whore!" Does he have to spell it out for his angel? Doesn't Warren already know all this? He's an angel, isn't he? Well, maybe, he doesn't know everything?
Biting down his fury Warren throws the bandages onto the bed. What's he supposed to say or to do? Peeking at Remy's lowered and shame ridden eyes, he wonders about the man sitting next to him. "Did you manage to fight him off?" he asks hesitantly.
"Oui, dis time?" Remy admits guiltily.
//I don't want to hear this!// Warren is confused and has no idea how to handle this. The implications of Remy's answer are hard to grasp. "So, there were times when you couldn't fight them off?" //Please let him say no!// The thought that one of his teammates sold his body for money makes him feel queasy. //Or should I call it rape? Is that why he doesn't want me to touch him?//
Remy doesn't reply. His cut and wrist are taken care of and now he wants to get away from his angel, who's asking too many unnerving questions. "Don' want to talk 'bout dat," he says evasively and lowers himself back onto the mattress. Curling up, he closes his eyes.
Lost, Warren lets him. Remy's recent admissions shock him. "Remy?" he whispers softly, realizing that all blankets are on his bed. The Cajun must be cold now that the fire died. As he doesn't get an answer, he carefully leans forward. His back acts up and he grits his teeth.
Remy is crying soundlessly. He doesn't want to discuss the little he remembers with his angel. His angel is pure, untouched by evil and he can't talk about his pain. His angel can't understand him!
Warren sees the tears flowing down Remy's face and bites his lip. Angry with himself, he picks up a blanket and covers the shivering Cajun with it. //I never knew,// he thinks apologetically. //I never cared about your past. I judged you without compassion and understanding, just like Apo? he said.//
Gentle fingers move through his hair during a heartbeat, offering comfort and apology and he stops crying. His angel cares about him. With that consoling thought, he surrenders to exhaustion.

 

Chapter Eight

"Almost ready," Remy whispers privately, tossing the omelette. He woke minutes ago and his growling stomach urged him to prepare breakfast. One look over his shoulder assures him that Warren is still asleep.
Somehow, his mind refuses to believe that last night really happened, but his wrist is neatly bandaged and the cut on his brow healing. His angel really tended to his wounds. A most joyous, almost exultant feeling sweeps through him. He hasn't felt this good in months!
But there's also a downside. Last night, he admitted too much to Warren. He never planned on telling his angel about fighting his way out of the alley. But worst of all is that he's slowly starting to remember things from his past.
Like the Antiquary. //Merde!// he curses mentally as a slice of toast drops onto the floor. Just thinking about the Antiquary makes him shake in fear. And Warren knows about his nemesis as well! How could he be so stupid to tell his angel! Warren will want answers, an explanation for last night's behavior.
That one question still rings in his ears, 'Or can I still not touch you?' Merde! His angel is getting too close to the truth!
As he carries all food items over to the kitchen table, he finally allows himself to think about père Etienne who seems to have vanished from the face of the earth. Deep down in his heart he fears for the kind old man. Maybe something bad happened to the old priest because père Etienne showed him some kindness?
He shivers suddenly. What if the old priest is dead because of him? Why else would père Etienne stay away for such a long time? //Please, mon Dieu,// he prays, //please don' punish him 'cause he helped me!//

This is the way Warren finds him; fists clenched, eyes almost watering, self-loathing written all over his face. Warren cocks his head, feeling oddly in control of the situation. Last night he crossed a bridge when he soothed Remy and he's starting to feel comfortable near the Cajun.
//Remy? When did LeBeau change into Remy?// he wonders curiously. An incredible sadness lies over Remy's face like a veil. He realizes very well that there's a lot he doesn't know about his former team-mate, but the things he recently learned shook the foundations of his life. Someone he hated saved his life. He always assumed that Remy dislikes him as well, but now, he isn't so sure any more. Maybe he took everything that happened in the past too personally. //Face it, Warren, you're NOT the centre of the world!// he chides himself.
"Good morning," Warren says in a friendly tone. Seeing Remy jerk around to face him doesn't surprise him. It's obvious that the Cajun is easily scared and highly strung.
"Mornin'," Remy replies shyly and gestures at the kitchen table. "It ain' much, mais?"
"Come on, let's eat." Warren cautiously sits down. Although the pain in his back lessened during the night, it's still there.
Reluctantly, Remy joins him. His hands tremble fiercely as he pours their tea.
"About last night," Warren starts, but grows quiet, seeing Remy's unease.
"Won' happen 'gain, I promise," Remy whispers barely audible.
//All right, so you're already on the defensive?// Warren changes strategy. "I'm talking about the first half of the night, when I had that terrible nightmare," he clarifies and catches Remy's surprised look. "Thanks for waking me up."
"You're welcome," Remy says in an awkward tone. "You need to eat."
"You need to eat too, Remy," Warren points out to him. So far, so good? now what? Slowly, he chews the toast. "I found your meds last night," he reveals and watches Remy's reaction very carefully. The Cajun looks up questioningly. "Why aren't you taking them?"
"I don' like bein' defenceless," Remy replies in a whisper. Shifting on the chair he stares at the food. He only ate a few bites, but his appetite suddenly disappeared.
"They can help you get your memory back," Warren reminds him, but privately, his thoughts stroll into a different direction. //Or don't you want to remember? That actually makes a lot of sense, considering Remy's been through a lot. //
"Can' survive on de streets like dat." Remy forces himself to bite off a piece of toast. He needs the calories if he wants to stay in shape. Years on the streets and serving the Antiquary as a slave taught him to eat whenever he can.
"You're not going back onto the streets, Remy," Warren states determinedly. The dumbfounded look Remy throws him makes him smile. "You're staying with me until you've got your memory back."
In the back of his head Warren remembers something Logan once said, a truth he destroyed during the trial in Antarctica. 'X-Men take care of each other!' It's time he remembers who he is and what he used to stand for!
"Que?" Confused, Remy blinks his eyes. "What did you say?"
"I'm going to keep my eye on you," Warren repeats. //And for several reasons. I want to know why you worked for Sinister and why this Antiquary scares the hell out of you. I don't even dare to think about the other things you mentioned, Remy. Did someone abuse you when you were a child? And did you survive by selling your body? Why did you have to tell me that? I don't know how to help you deal with all that! I'm a lawyer? not a psychologist!// he thinks upset.
"Are you serious?" Remy's fingernails claw into the wood of the kitchen table. This sounds to be good to be true! Can't be happening to him! He never gets lucky! //And now an ange offers to take care of me? Why would he do dat? But it felt so good when he held me last night. Wasn' 'lone any more?// Temptation makes it impossible for him to refuse the proposal.
"Yes, I am serious," Warren assures him and leans back. This chair worsens his backache. Later, he will try spreading his wings to see if he's still capable of flight.
"Ange?" Remy starts hesitantly. "I'm bad luck."
That actually brings a smile to Warren's face. "So am I!"
"You're an ange!" Remy objects strongly.
"We need to talk about this angel thing later," Warren says resolved. "But first we're going to eat and think of a way to get back to my hotel."
"Bad idea," Remy protests again. "Told you 'fore dat dey will be waitin' for you."
"Got to take that risk, Remy. The assassins won't give up."
"Assassins?" His knife drops hard onto the plate. The word wakes some distant memory in his mind, but it fails to surface.
"Yes, the assassins' Guild," Warren clarifies, wondering if he shouldn't keep quiet instead. He doesn't like telling Remy white lies, but wants to establish a safe environment first before talking to the Cajun about the X-Men. And as long as the assassins are hunting him down, he doesn't feel exactly safe.
Remy is thinking everything over. "We can stay here?" he offers.
"No, we'll try to get to the hotel once the sun has set. The night will supply us with some cover."
"Do you t'ink dey know you're here?" Remy says suddenly. "You were bleedin' when I brought you here? left a trail?"
"That would be bad," Warren acknowledges, "maybe they don't want to murder me inside a church?"
"We'll leave at night?" Remy agrees. "We'll stay here durin' de day." He doesn't like this plan, but his angel seems determined to do things his way.
"What about those meds?" Warren shoves the packages over to Remy's side of the table. "When do you plan on starting to take them?"
"Non." Remy shakes his head. "Don' want to be drugged."
"They will help you remember, Remy!" Warren is getting tired of the same old argument. "At least that way one of us won't have to deal with nightmares." When he read the instructions, he realized the sleeping meds would take away the nightmares. That's probably the very reason why the doctors in Houston prescribed these particular drugs!
Remy has no argument to contradict that statement. As his eyes caress those soft white wings, he knows he's lost this fight.

 

"What are you doing?" Restlessly, Warren sits upright in bed. He's getting fed up with being confined to this bedroom. Remy's lying on his mattress, a pillow underneath his head, reading a book.
"What does it look like?" Remy quips, feeling strangely at rest. That serene feeling probably comes from the fact that he isn't alone any longer. His angel promised to stay close. He no longer has to fight this lonely battle on his own!
Remy's determined to use this little rest before they have to venture out in the streets again. Hours ago he tried to change his angel's mind, but Warren made it very clear that this wasn't up for discussion. Once it's dark, they're leaving!
"Give me that!" Warren lunges forward and manages to pry the book from Remy's hands. Remy smiles brilliantly at him and a strange, alien feeling shoots through his soul. Confused, Warren studies the book.
"It's some sort of journal," Remy says and shrugs his shoulders.
"It's the Iliad!" Warren realizes and grins. "And you're reading it in Greek!"
That certainly draws Remy's attention. "Greek?" he repeats amused. "I can' read Greek! You made a mistake! It's English!"
Warren's grin brightens. "This is Greek, Remy!" and throws him the book. Remy's confusion only grows and Warren tries to remember the little he knows about the Cajun's background. //It's only logical that Jean-Luc LeBeau, patriarch of the thieves' Guild, would give his son an excellent education, though I'm a little surprised he knows Greek. What else don't I know about him? Probably a lot!
But? hold on? Why don't I give Jean-Luc LeBeau a call once we reached the hotel? He can take care of his son and maybe I can convince him to use his influence on the assassins!// Pleased, Warren nods his head.
In the meantime, Remy is struggling to decipher words he understood perfectly a moment ago. After Warren pointed out to him that he's reading Greek, he suddenly lost all knowledge of that language. "Can' read it any more."
"Huh?" Remy's voice pulls Warren away from his musings. "What do you mean?"
"The words don' make sense," Remy says helplessly.
Warren swings his feet onto the floor, distressed by the sudden panic on Remy's face. "You read the book effortlessly until I told you it was Greek?" he summarizes.
"Oui," Remy sighs and closes the book. "I don' understand dis. How come I can read Greek?"
//Okay, Remy. Let's see how you deal with this.// Warren places his right hand on the Cajun's shoulder.
Surprised, Remy looks up. He manages to repress the shudder that almost rocks his body and waits for his angel to answer him.
"Maybe your father?" Warren starts, but one dazed Cajun cuts him short.
"Fader?" Stunned, Remy looks his angel in the eye. Why didn't he think of that before? Maybe he came to New Orleans because his family is here! "Never t'ought dat my père is still 'live," he admits. "I don' remember him?" All he remembers is the Antiquary and the other street kids.
"I don't know that much about your family," Warren says patiently, "but I do know that your father lives in New Orleans. Once we're at the hotel, I'll tell him where you are."
That promise feeds a deep ache inside his soul. "My père is still 'live?" he repeats in disbelief.
"Yes. His name is Jean-Luc LeBeau," Warren says cautiously, feeding Remy small bits of information. //But I am not going to tell him about the thieves' Guild yet. I want to talk to those doctors in Houston first and see what they recommend. Maybe it's best to wait until he's ready to remember?// he wonders, mesmerized by the ecstatic expression in Remy's eyes.
"Jean-Luc LeBeau," he says slowly, tasting the name, hoping it will sparkle his memory, but no face or voice appears in his mind. Disappointed, he looks pleadingly at Warren.
"And yes, your name is Remy LeBeau," he says in a surprisingly gentle tone. Last night took away his anger, realizing Remy's even worse off than he is and he can't deny his desire to help.
//You only want to prove Apocalypse wrong,// his conscience reprimands him viciously.
//No! I do care!// he protests, but wonders himself if he's lying. Remy totally confuses him!
"Remy LeBeau," he whispers happily. "Merci for tellin' me."
Warren gives him a melancholy smile, knowing only too well that dark memories are lurking in the Cajun's mind. How will Remy react once he learns about the Massacre and Sinister?
"Ange?" Remy wonders about the absentminded look in those blue eyes. Regularly, Warren's mind seems to drift off. Should he worry about that? "Ange? You still listenin'?"
"Yes." Warren looks out of the window. "We should get ready. It's starting to grow dark outside."
With a deep sigh, Remy rises to his feet. He places the book back onto the shelf, still puzzled by his ability to read Greek. //Mon poppa. Mon poppa taught me!//
Warren watches him move about, gather bandages, balm, painkillers and food. Food? "Remy, we don't need food!"
"You never know," Remy objects, "want to be prepared in case somet'in' goes wrong!" He's not going to get into another argument, but realizes darn well that these assassins will be looking for them.
"Don't forget your meds, Remy!" Warren gets up from the bed and points the packages out to Remy. "Don't you even think about leaving them behind. Once we're safe, you're going to take them!"
"Merde!" he curses loudly, but packs them anyway. He's slowly beginning to realize how much he craves someone to take care of him. He's been so long on his own, that's he forgotten how it feels to have a friend who worries about his well-being.
"You need help?" Remy asks and puts the bag onto the chair. Warren is in obvious pain, trying to slip into his blood stained shirt. "Here, use my coat," Remy offers again and drapes it over Warren's shoulders. "Warm 'nough?"
"Yes," Warren sighs. "Let's get moving. The sooner we're in the hotel, the better." Remy's reluctance to leave this sanctuary is written all over his face and Warren resorts to other tactics. "I'm sure your dad wants to know you're here."
That argument is Remy's undoing. "You win."

 

The LeBeau household
Jean-Luc LeBeau puts down the report. "Dis information is accurate?"
The man standing in front of the desk nods his head. "The information is correct. Remy is in New Orleans. He was seen on several occasions, but disappeared each time before we could make contact."
"Dis is bad, Louis," Jean-Luc sighs. "De assassins and some of de thieves still want his blood! Why hasn't he contacted me?" Worried, Jean-Luc reads the rest of the report. "Remy's wearing rags?"
The informant is growing uncomfortable, seeing the frustration on his boss' face. "He's been begging, eating out of garbage cans and seen sneaking into the St. Louis Cathedral."
"Why didn't you bring him in?" Jean-Luc demands to know. "De moment you see him, act! I don't want him roaming de streets! You know what happens once de assassins know he's back!"
"I will do my best, monsieur LeBeau," Louis promises. "I think he's still inside the cathedral."
"Bring him to me and make sure he's unharmed!" Jean-Luc rises from behind the desk and paces his study. "Non! Wait. I will attend to dis personally!" He can't take the risk that his men will screw up. His son is too important! "Get de limousine ready!"
Louis hurries out of the room. Finally alone, Jean-Luc bangs his fist into the wall in frustration. He lost track of his son months ago, after the X-Men went on a mission in Antarctica. All he knows is that they returned without Remy. He still has informants near Westchester, which have orders to warn him should his son return to the mansion and now Remy is in New Orleans?
"Why didn't you come to me, Remy? Why did I exile you?" A choked sigh leaves his lips. "Banishing you was the biggest mistake I ever made! I should have stood up to dose assassins! Instead, I let dem take you away from me! I failed you too many times, my son," he realizes saddened.
"What's wrong with you, Remy? Why are you walking de streets like a ghost? No matter what happened in de past, you can always come to me? You must know dat!" Puzzled, angry and scared for his son's well being, Jean-Luc grabs his coat.
"Whatever is wrong, I will fix it!" he promises passionately and gestures Louis to follow him. //I'm going to get my son into safety!//

 

Near the cathedral
"You're sure this is the right way to go?" Warren inquires worried. He still needs Remy's help to walk, but his wings feel fine. He's sorely tempted to try and spread them and take to the sky with Remy, but that's definitely a bad idea. They would make an easy target.
"I got a hideout near your hotel," Remy assures him as he scans the nearly empty street. Being responsible for his angel's safety makes him extremely cautious. "You bien?" he asks to be sure. Warren is leaning on him, but seems to be holding his own.
"Yes, I am fine, keep walking!" Warren looks about. The hair at the back of his neck is standing rigid. "Someone is watching us."
"Oui, feel de eyes too," Remy whispers in return. "We should go back to de church."
"Can't go back now," Warren decides, wishing Remy isn't wearing those shackles. His charging power would come in handy right now. "How much farther?"
"Five more minutes," Remy replies thoughtfully. "We need to cross the street first," he informs Warren. As they reach that particular crossing, he pulls his angel into the cover of an alley. "Dis feels wrong."
"I know that." Impatiently, Warren searches the street for suspicious looking cars or people. "Once we're crossing the street, we got no cover at all!" What if he takes to the sky and flies to the penthouse? He measures the distance. //I might be able to do that if I was alone, but I can't leave Remy behind. I need to stay close to him!//
"Ange?" Worried, Remy shakes his head. "No use in waitin'. We do dis now or we go back to de church." He can literally smell the danger.
"You're right," Warren admits frustrated. "We'll make a run for it."
"Non." Remy locks eyes with his angel. "Dat way, we draw attention. We need to walk slowly. De other people crossin' de street are our only cover."
Reluctantly, Warren gives in. "Whatever happens, stay close!" Acting on impulse, he grabs Remy's left wrist.
In spite of their miserable situation Remy smiles. "Merci for carin', mon ange," he whispers barely audible.
Warren chokes up, hearing the honest gratitude in those words. "We really need to talk about this angel thing," he says with a half smile. Determinedly, he nods his head. "Let's do this!"
Remy falls into step next to him and Warren suddenly realizes that the Cajun is trembling. "We're almost there," he says encouragingly, but as he finishes his sentence, the dreadful noise of metal flinging through the air fills his ears. His sharp eyes immediately locate the three daggers coming towards them.
But Remy recognizes the danger as well. The daggers are cutting themselves a way through the air and his angel is the target! He only has seconds to make up his mind and act. //Saved his life once, can do it 'gain!//
Warren's heart misses several beats as Remy catapults himself into the air, knocking him onto the concrete in the process. "NO!" Warren screams petrified. The daggers miss him because Remy uses his own body to protect him! "No," he whimpers in dread as one dagger claws itself a way into the Cajun's left side. The smile that Remy gives him is filled with bliss and pride.
"Dey won' kill you," Remy moans the words as he goes down. A terrible pain doubles him over and something hot drips down his thigh. //Kept my promise.//
He catches Remy before the Cajun hits the concrete. Quickly, he gathers Remy in his arms. Shocked, he stares at his bloodstained hands and the small pool of blood he's kneeling in. "No," he sobs softly. "Don't die on me!"
//Don't die FOR me!// Warren stares at the heavens. That dagger was meant for him! Not for Remy! //Why did you jump in front of me?// In shock, he pulls the unconscious Cajun to his chest, hoping the assassins will get it over with quickly and kill him as well.

 

Chapter Nine

Jean-Luc's heart thumps loudly in his chest as he's forced to watch how the assassins' daggers find their way through the air. His eyes scout their route ahead and then his heart stops beating momentarily. "Remy!" he whispers shocked.
His son leaps into the air, throwing his companion onto the concrete. One of the daggers eats itself into his side. "Non!" he hisses in anger. "Faster, Louis!" He can't be too late! He has to safe his son's life. Only then he remembers that Remy isn't alone.
A blue skinned man with white wings is struggling hard to get to his knees. A keening wail leaves the man's lips and he gathers Remy in his arms. Terror shines from his blue eyes. A terror, which also rules his own eyes.
Jean-Luc studied the X-Men when his son joined them and recognizes the mutant named Angel. But this blue skin is a surprise. When did that happen?
Determinedly, he bites his lip. Even from this distance it's clear that his son is bleeding and no longer conscious. He refuses to think of the obvious reason; Remy can't be dead!
The Elixir of Life strengthened his son sufficiently to survive such an injury! Administered in small quantities Remy never realized what he was being fed and Jean-Luc knows only too well he should have told his son a long time ago. But then disaster struck and Remy had to leave New Orleans.
//But now he's back!// Jean-Luc chides himself. //And he needs my help!//

 

A car slithers towards them, suddenly coming to an abrupt stop. Warren doesn't want to take his eyes off Remy, even feels angered at the sudden intrusion, but glares at the small group of men now exiting the limousine. //Looks like the assassins want to gloat at their handiwork!// Angered, he pulls Remy closer and suddenly grows aware of the steady rising of the Cajun's chest.
//He's still alive!// Warren realizes in a crazed state. Forgetting about the newly arrived group, he frantically searches for a pulse. Yes, the Cajun is still alive!
//Got to make sure he stays that way!// All his earlier thoughts of giving in so the assassins can finish him off, are gone. Suddenly, he has a reason to fight for his life, and that reason is Remy LeBeau!
"You've got to hold on, Remy!" he whispers resolved and tries to get to his feet, carrying the Cajun. But the unconscious man weighs heavy in his arms and he starts to fall. Unexpectedly, strong arms steady him. "Take me, but let him go!" he whispers, hoping the assassins will listen.
Jean-Luc's hands tremble, knowing that the assassins' dagger can be poisoned. He has to act quickly and can ask his questions later. "Monsieur Worthington," he starts, "Give me my son and get into de car!"
Warren never hears the words. Someone is trying to pry Remy from his arms and he can't allow that. "I'm not giving him to you!" he states determinedly.
"We're wasting valuable time!" Jean-Luc realizes and pulls Warren towards the limousine. "Get inside!"
This time Warren moves. It seems like the assassins want them both, so be it, but he isn't abandoning Remy, not again!
Jean-Luc jumps into the car as well, gesturing his men to search for the assassins and take care of the bystanders. "Louis! Drive!" he orders and sits down next to Warren, aching to hold his son as well. But Warren's expression tells him the X-Man is in shock and won't let go until he's coaxed into feeling safe.
Feeling paralysed, all Warren can do is stare at Remy's closed eyes. The Cajun's lips are still curled into a smile and a deep anger burns Warren's mind. "Why the hell did you do that?"
If Remy hadn't tried to protect him the Cajun would be just fine! Warren doesn't know if he would have been fast enough to move out of the daggers' way and now they will never know! "You shouldn't have done that!"
Jean-Luc has had enough and slips one arm underneath his son's shoulders to lift him slightly. Immediately, Warren tightens his hold on the Cajun and Jean-Luc lets him. All he wants to do right now is to examine his son's wound.
Although Remy's bleeding profusely, Jean-Luc quickly realizes that the dagger missed his son's vital organs. "Press hard!" he orders and pushes Warren's hand onto the wound.
A soft mew escapes Remy as the pressure increases and Warren flinches hearing that sound. "I never wanted this to happen!" he whimpers regretfully. "Don't die on me, Remy!"
Jean-Luc grits his teeth. He knew there was trouble when his men reported his son's return. "Can you tell me why you're here?" he asks and reassuringly strokes his son's soft hair. Remy looks worse than he remembers. He lost weight and dark circles formed underneath his eyes.
With a quick glance he inspects the cut above Remy's brow and as his hands search for more injuries, Jean-Luc encounters the bandaged wrist. "Worthington!" he curses, "Start talking!"
But Warren isn't paying any attention to the raving man next to him. He's trying hard to stop the bleeding by applying sufficient pressure. He NEVER expected the Cajun to try and protect him! //My God, I did misjudge you, Remy!// That realization almost makes his eyes water. //That foolish Cajun really thinks he has to protect an angel!//
Never before did he feel more unworthy of wearing that name. //Angel, Archangel, fancy names but they don't mean a thing without the right man doing them justice and I?// His thoughts spin as his eyes finally release tears.
Jean-Luc watches them with mixed feelings. He understands that Warren feels guilty because Remy got hit instead, but Remy is HIS son and he wants to comfort him!
"Louis, make sure doctor Mansour is at de house when we get back!" //Merde//, he curses privately. Mattie choose a bad time to visit her relatives. He doesn't expect her back for days!
"Remy?" Warren whispers respectfully. "Please fight!" His fingers are covered in blood, but it feels like the bleeding is slowing down. With his other hand he gently turns Remy's head until the Cajun's face is resting against his chest. Remy's long legs dangle down the seat and he leans in closer, hiding his own face in the Cajun's hair. "Don't leave me!"
He doesn't give much thought to his reactions, knowing they have been through a lot these last few days. He had almost convinced himself that he was coping? that was until Remy decided to sacrifice his life so he could live. "Why did you do it?"
Jean-Luc sighs heavily, counting the minutes until they will reach his house. Louis assures him that the family's physician will arrive simultaneously to attend to Remy's injury. Being this helpless infuriates him.
"Angel!" he says on impulse, as he doesn't remember Worthington's first name. He wants an explanation!
"Why are you doing this?" Warren says as he locks eyes with the man sitting next to him. "You want to kill ME, let him go!"
"I don't want to kill you," Jean-Luc rectifies, suddenly realizing why the X-Man is this uncooperative. "I'm no assassin. My name's Jean-Luc LeBeau and I'm here to claim my son!"
"Son?" Warren repeats in bafflement. He has never seen the patriarch of the thieves' Guild before, but slowly things start to make sense. "You wear the same idiotic rain coat!" he states near hysterics. "We're safe?"
"Oui, de assassins won't try anything as long as you're with me," Jean-Luc reassures the X-Man. "And we're almost home!"
"LeBeau," Warren lunges forward and grabs the collar of Jean-Luc's coat. "Remy's lost his memory. He doesn't know who he is, who I am, who you are? be careful!"
"Mon Dieu!" Jean-Luc's eyes flash dangerously and lock on Remy's face. "Dat's why he didn't come to me!"
"He doesn't know he's a mutant? Remy thinks I'm a real angel." Suddenly, it is very important to him to that Jean-Luc knows what is going on. In his dazed state he's terrified that Jean-Luc will let something slip that will upset Remy.
"Listen," Jean-Luc says, eager to gain control over this situation. From the corner of his eye he notices that the bleeding has almost stopped, but his son still needs medical attention. "Let me take care of everything, monsieur Worthington!"
"Right," Warren sighs and leans back, clutching Remy to his chest. "He wanted to die for me," he stutters confused.
"Dat's Remy." Jean-Luc nods his head. "Dat's my son, too damn eager to please!"
The words rip into his mind. //I wronged him!// Warren bows his head in defeat as shame flows through his veins. The limousine comes to a sudden stop and makes him look up. "Where are we?"
"Home," Jean-Luc replies and takes a deep breath. "Let me carry my son," he demands. It's apparent that Warren is in no state to carry his unconscious son and judging from the newly appeared blood on the X-Man's shoulder, Angel is injured as well. "I'll take care of him," Jean-Luc promises.
His heart grows heavy, but eventually, he nods his head. "Be gentle," Warren insists. His hands shake as the warm body slips into Jean-Luc's arms.
"Monsieur Worthington, you need a doctor as well." Jean-Luc pulls his son close to his chest. "I've got you, Remy!" he says passionately.
Louis helps him out of the car and Jean-Luc says, "Keep an eye on de X-Man!"
"I'm not leaving Remy!" Warren insists in a calm tone. "I'm coming along!"
He doesn't have the time to argue and Jean-Luc nods his head. "Come on!"
Together, they make their way into the house. Remy hardly weighs a thing in his arms and the wound's bleeding again now that the pressure is gone. "Hold on, son," he whispers softly.

Several minutes later Jean-Luc is assisting doctor Mansour in getting Remy undressed. Astonished, Warren looks at the well-equipped medical lab in LeBeau's basement. //Even Hank would start drooling seeing this!//
Warren watches their every move, for some reason feeling very protective of Remy. Maybe it still hasn't fully registered yet that the doctor assured them that the injury isn't life threatening.
"You sit dere, monsieur Worthington," Jean-Luc instructs, "and don't get in our way. Doctor Mansour will have a look at your injury in a moment."
"My wound is healing just fine," he waves away the concern. "What about Remy?"
"He won't die," Jean-Luc assures him again, without mentioning the elixir. Outsiders don't need to know the Guild's secrets! With endless care, he strips off Remy's sweater.
Warren's eyes grow big. It's not the injury that makes him gasp. It's the fine web of scars woven into Remy's skin. "My God, what?"
Jean-Luc ignores him, helping the physician to clean the wound. Although Remy is stable it's a nasty and painful wound.
"Those scars?" Warren whispers stunned. "How did he get them?" Not getting an answer, he crosses his arms in front of his chest and stares at Jean-Luc. He vividly remembers Remy's admission after he had those nightmares. Did Jean-Luc beat Remy or?? //Wish I knew more about Remy's childhood, but Jean-Luc LeBeau doesn't seem the abusive kind, though you can never tell?//
"Clean the wound," doctor Mansour instructs and hands Jean-Luc some clean bandages.
Jean-Luc simply obeys, gently wiping away the blood. "How bad is it?"
The doctor gives his patriarch a reassuring smile. "Remy dealt with worse. He will be fine after a few days of rest. It's only a flesh wound."
"Merci mon Dieu!" Jean-Luc whispers and then glances at Warren, who's uncharacteristically quiet. "Are you all right?" he asks concerned. If his son is willing to die for this man, he has to take care of Worthington.
Warren stares at Remy's face. Those alien eyes are still closed, but there is movement underneath the eyelids. The scars on Remy's body sadden and anger him at the same time. "Who did this to him?"
Surprised, Jean-Luc locks eyes with him. "De assassins threw de daggers."
"Not the dagger," Warren hisses between gritted teeth. "The scars!"
//Etrange,// Jean-Luc studies him carefully. //Didn't know dey are dis close. My informants never told me.// As he thinks of a suitable answer, Remy moves slightly underneath his hands. Briefly, he hopes that Remy is regaining consciousness, but his son doesn't open his eyes.
Doctor Mansour tells him to pull Remy upright so he can bandage the wound and Jean-Luc reacts at once. He sits down on the exam table, pulls Remy gently in an upright position and rests his son's body against his chest. His fingertips caress the countless scars.
"Was it the Antiquary or did you do this to him?" Warren's voice is solid steel.
Jean-Luc can hardly believe that accusation and turns around with a vicious expression on his face. "I would never hurt my son!" A second later, he realizes what Warren just said. "What do you know about de Antiquary?"
Now that the doctor has finished with tending to Remy's injury, he moves over to Warren. Obediently, Warren leans forward so the physician can examine his injury. "It's the only thing Remy remembers," Warren sighs in pain as the doctor removes the bandages. His wound stings painfully.
Jean-Luc gently lays Remy down on the exam table and covers his son's body with a warm blanket. "The nightmares," he states with certainty.
"Yes." Warren flinches as the physician checks the wound. "In his dreams he begged this Antiquary not to touch him. He didn't allow me to touch him when he woke, but after he realized he was safe he begged me to hold him."
"This is healing properly," the doctor says approvingly. "Remy didn't forget the lessons I taught him in first aid."
Warren and Jean-Luc stare into each other's eyes. //Now what?// Warren thinks confused. The doctor is done redressing his wound and slowly, Warren rises to his feet. Step by step, he approaches the exam bed. "What did that bastard do to Remy?"
Jean-Luc averts his eyes. Ashamed and feeling terribly guilty he stalls answering that question. He never told Remy that it was he who'd stolen him from the hospital, delivering Remy into that devil's hands. "De Antiquary hurt him," he says eventually.
Warren pulls the chair closer and sits down again as his knees threaten to give out on him. Suddenly, all recent events overwhelm him. "You're sure he will survive?"
"Oui," Jean-Luc assures him, "Remy's strong."
"I need to tell you about the assassins," Warren realizes and takes a deep breath. Why is his hand stroking back auburn locks? Why is he dying to touch Remy? Too tired to ponder these questions, he simply sits there, caressing Remy's soft hair.
Jean-Luc watches them closely, dismisses the doctor after telling him to stay close and then walks over to Warren. "We should move him to his room. He will feel a lot safer dere when he wakes up. Remy hates medical labs."
A ghost of a smile crosses Warren's features. "Yes, Hank mentioned something like that." He sits back and briefly closes his eyes. He's awfully tired and wouldn't mind lying down himself.
With utmost care Jean-Luc gathers his son in his arms and lifts him from the exam table. //I've got you back, Remy and dis time I won't fail you!//

 

Jean-Luc tries to take care of the threat of the assassins. With talking he tries to convince them to stop targeting Warren. But that's proving rather difficult as their minds are set on upholding their reputation. The only solution is to make sure that Remy and Warren leave New Orleans as quickly as possible.
His head still reels with the information Warren supplied him with. Jean-Luc leans back in the chair in his study, tapping his fingertips on the armrest. Remy's safe in his room and will continue to sleep for at least one more hour. Worthington refuses to leave his son's side for even one second, something Jean-Luc admires, but it also makes him wonder. Why is Warren so determined to stay close to his son?
//Merde, dis is such a mess! I finally got Remy back and now it turns out dat he has amnesia! Mon Dieu! I don't dare to think of what could have happened to him out dere on de streets if de assassins had recognized him!// A dark, terrifying thought sneaks inside.
//What did happen, my son? Warren tells me dat you've have been living on de streets for weeks. He even told me about de bastard who nearly raped you! When I get my hands on dat pervert?//
He desperately wants to go upstairs and hold his son's hand. But in his heart, he knows that it will never again be the way it was before. After exiling Remy their relationship went downhill and he didn't even visit Remy when he was with the X-Men!
HIS mistakes and he'll have to pay the prize, which might be his son's love.
//One day I will have to confess my shame to him. I delivered him into de hands of evil. If I hadn't obeyed de Antiquary Remy wouldn't have been hurt. Dis is my fault! Why did I agree to steal him from dat hospital? Even after all dese years I don't know why Remy is dis important to de Antiquary.//
The weight of the world seems to rest on his shoulders as he struggles to his feet. He left tante Mattie a message, telling her to hurry home, but it will take her some time to get back.
Jean-Luc draws in a deep breath to recompose himself. He has to be strong now, has to be strong for Remy, who needs him. //Or will I lose him a second time?//

Two hours later, Warren is still sitting in the chair next to Remy's bed. Jean-Luc offered him the guest room, but he refused. He wants to be close to Remy.
Now that they're safe, his personal demons haunt him and as he looks them in the eyes, he recoils, realizing how arrogant and self-centered he has been these last years. No wonder Bets and he were such a 'perfect' match. //We were both in love with ourselves.// he realizes with self-loathing.
Looking at Remy, he realizes his mistake. Arrogantly, he threw away a possible friendship. But all is not lost yet. Remy's alive and maybe the Cajun will give him a second chance?
His hands rest on the side of Remy's bed and his eyes slowly search the room, which is nothing like he thought it would be. A big four-poster bed takes up most of the classically furnished room. Near the stain glass window stands a heavy desk and an armchair from the time of Louis the Fourteenth, which looks comfortable and cosy.
Paintings from renowned artists give the room a fresh and warm appearance and an easel stands in the corner of the room. A palette, still carrying traces of mixed paint lies next to it. Thick, red carpet covers the floor and the dark wooden furniture reminds him of his father's study.
"Remy?" he whispers softly and leans in closer. Remy's lying on his back, soundly asleep. Warren still remembers the obvious affection in Jean-Luc's gestures when he tucked his son in.
"Can you hear me?" Hesitantly, he raises a trembling hand and rests it on Remy's brow. The urge to touch the Cajun is overwhelming. //Just want to make sure he's fine, not developing a fever!//
//That's not true!// his conscience berates him. //You want to touch him because you care about him!//
With sudden apprehension he pulls back. "I don't need to touch him to know he's fine!" His fingertips burn from touching Remy's skin. //What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I want to touch him so badly?// Puzzled, he tries to create some order in his chaotic thoughts.
Remy's luscious lips draw his glance and unexpectedly, he wonders what it would feel like to kiss them. //Kiss him? Kiss Remy LeBeau?//
Shocked, he pushes back his chair. A strangled moan flees his lips. This can't be happening! //Damn! I felt this way when I was falling in love with Bets and?// All of a sudden things fall into place. //I can't be falling in love with him! I don't like men in that way!//
But what if? Terrified by this unexpected revelation he clasps his hands in an attempt to beat the urge of wanting to stroke the auburn hair. //I'm not gay... bi or whatever you call it! I LIKE WOMEN, NOT MEN! Oh my God, this can't be happening! It's stress! I can't?//
"Monsieur Worthington?" Jean-Luc enters his son's room and wonders about the horrified expression in his guest's eyes. "Remy will be fine," he says, hoping to soothe the man's worries. "He won't die."
//Oh my God! That's not it!// Warren thinks frantically. //I can't stay here! I've got to get away from him!//
Jean-Luc slowly approaches the bed. "Is something wrong?"
"No," Warren manages to whisper. He can't show his confusion and must act like everything is just fine. //Concentrate! Find something else besides Remy to talk about!//
"I talked to de assassins. Dey don't want to give in. I suggest you stay inside as long as you are here." Jean-Luc pulls up the armchair and sits down opposite Warren. Out of habit, he gently takes hold of his son's hand and rubs the knuckles. "We need to talk about Remy."
"Of course," Warren replies automatically, but his mind is wandering off. //I can't be in love with a MAN! That's WRONG!//
Jean-Luc mentally reviews all new information and eventually asks, "How did Remy end up in a hospital in Houston?"
//I don't want to have this conversation!// But Warren knows Jean-Luc won't leave him alone until he knows the whole sordid truth. "Things went awfully wrong when we were in Antarctica and Remy had to find his own way home. I asked him that same question, but he doesn't remember what happened after most of us left." Rogue's visit flashes in his mind. Suddenly, he grows suspicious of her motives. Why was she so damned pleased about the fact that Remy had died?
//I always wondered about those two,// he admits privately. //I just don't buy it that she loved him. Rogue is? cold. Can't really explain it, but? it always felt like she kept him at a distance, playing him.//
Although Rogue had helped him escape Apocalypse's control, he didn't trust her, never had. Maybe it was because Bobby idolized her at times? //I still think Bobby is or was in love with her and love makes blind.//
"Monsieur Worthington?" Jean-Luc clasps his fingers around Remy's, knowing every inch of that skin by heart, knowing each scar intimately. He would kiss those scars when Remy was a child, as it had been the only way to make the boy's pain go away. Even now, he feels the urge to lift those agile fingers to his lips and kiss the pain away. Only tante Mattie and he know how much Remy still craves such expressions of affection. //Damn de Antiquary!//
"You should call Houston and see what the doctors say. Remy's been asking about his past and I just can't tell him?"
"What?" Jean-Luc closely observes his guest, realizing Warren's holding back.
"Did Remy tell you about the Morlocks and the Marauders?" Warren shifts in his chair.
"Non, but my informants did. Remy doesn't know I 'spied' on him dese last few years." Jean-Luc actually brings Remy's fingers to his lips and kisses the knuckles. He ignores the odd look Warren gives him, determined not to feel ashamed for the love he bears his son. He will never shy back from showing Remy how much he cares for him!
"I still don't know why he worked for Sinister and?" Warren grows quiet. //I no longer care about finding those answers. I just want him to heal!//
"I suggest we only tell him things that won't make him feel threatened. I know my son. Remy's vulnerable." Jean-Luc lowers Remy's hand and covers it with his. "Remy, do you remember me?" he whispers questioningly. "Or do you no longer remember your poppa?"
Entranced, Warren stares as Remy's eyes start to flutter slightly. "He's waking up."
Jean-Luc considers his next action. "Talk to him, Remy knows you, trusts you." He wants to play this safe. Seeing Warren first will reassure Remy that everything is fine.
"Shouldn't you do that?" Warren objects weakly, unwilling to look into those enchanting alien eyes. He knows that looking into those eyes will weaken his resolve to leave New Orleans as quickly possible. He needs to get away from Remy!
Remy slowly opens his eyes, testing the brightness in the room. Relieved, he opens them completely. //Never t'ought I was goin' to survive? or is dis hell? Can' go to heaven? // He feels lazily fatigued. It's a pleasant feeling and he doesn't fight it.
"Ange?" he whispers hopefully. //Please let mon ange be 'live!// The possibility that those daggers ended his angel's life makes him tremble violently.
Jean-Luc gives Warren an encouraging nod.
Reluctantly, Warren leans in closer so Remy can see him. "I'm just fine, Remy." Those red on black eyes find his and Warren barely suppresses a choked moan, seeing the intensity in them.
"Bien," Remy mumbles contented and smiles weakly. "Hope I didn' scare you."
"You gave me a heart attack!" Warren exclaims and forces himself to calm down again. "Don't you EVER do such a thing again, Remy!"
"Can' let dem murder an ange?" Remy's getting tired again, but has to convince himself first that Warren's real and not a hallucination. His right hand snakes over the blanket in search of Warren's. "Please?" he pleads, wanting to feel his angel's touch. Warren swallows hard. //Remy, don't? // Only a moment ago he was determined to flee the Cajun's touch. But how can he deny Remy? The Cajun almost died for him!
Satisfied, Remy sighs as warm, long fingers curl around his. "Merci?"
"Remy, you need to rest," Jean-Luc chooses this moment to make his presence known. Apprehensively, he waits for a reaction. Will Remy recognize him?
Surprised to hear another voice, Remy cocks his head. In the end, he manages to focus his eyes and he forgets to breathe as he looks into warm eyes. This man, his face? that voice?
"Remy?" Jean-Luc tries to put all the love he feels for his son into that one word. Remy's eyes lock with his and Jean-Luc smiles reassuringly. "You're home, petite," using the nickname he gave Remy so many years ago.
Warren grows worried as Remy tightly squeezes his hand. "Remy!"
But Remy can't take his eyes of the man's face. He knows that face? This man held his hand before? held him when he had nightmares, kissed his brow, helped him readjust to life after he finally escaped the Antiquary. This man has been his anchor for years? showed him that there was food in abundance and that no one would take it away from him... allowed him to cry in those strong arms. This man is? "Poppa?"

 

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