Title: Heaven sent 6

Author: Morgana (morganalebeau@yahoo.com)

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

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Heaven sent

By Morgana

 

Chapter Twenty-Two

New Orleans
"I want answers," Logan states resolved. Mattie left the study a few minutes ago and ever since tension has been building between the two men.
Jean-Luc waits patiently. "I know dat?" But what is it that Logan wants to discuss first? Their relationship or??
"She said that the Antiquary controlled the patriarch with the potion of eternal life? Did he control ya?" Logan shifts in the chair and lights a cigar, which will hopefully calm him down a little. If what he suspects is true?
"Oui, he did." Jean-Luc knows there's no way out of this. And basically, he wants to share this secret with someone he trusts. "He ordered me to steal de baby from de hospital." Unable to guess Logan's reaction, he waits for the Canadian's reply.
"Ya stole a baby?" Logan's voice is filled with disgust. "Did ya stop to think 'bout what ya were doin'? What 'bout the parents? What the bastard would do to the kid? How could ya do that?"
"I didn't have a choice! Merde!" His fist slams into the desk. "I didn't have de power back den, which I have now! I had to carry out his orders! De Antiquary is? sacred to most thieves! When I banished him from N'awlins de entire Guild threatened to rise against me!"
"But to steal a newborn!" Logan notices the guilt in Jean-Luc's eyes, but? "Ya could have done somethin' to stop it!"
"I tried!" Jean-Luc exclaims. "Mais all de other thieves thought of de baby as an abomination. I stood alone! And alone I couldn't oppose de Antiquary! Don't you think dis still haunts me?"
"Is that why ya adopted Remy?" Logan needs more time to process this. It sickens him that someone would steal a baby from its parents, but at the same time he understands Jean-Luc's dilemma. He has been in similar situations in which he didn't have a choice.
"Partly," Jean-Luc admits in a heavy tone. He drops onto his chair and locks eyes with the Canadian. "It's a long story."
"I ain't goin' anywhere," Logan leans back, gritting his teeth. "Ya better tell me now 'fore we run into the Antiquary and he tells me."
"Oui," Jean-Luc starts, "I stole de baby." It's hard to confess, but if he wants this relationship to work, he has to do this. "De first time I looked at him, de other thieves insisted de child was a monster? de devil. I couldn't believe dat. I would have taken him in, but de Antiquary wanted him for his collection." Jean-Luc looks away. "I didn't want to hand de baby over, mais de Guild insisted I obeyed de Antiquary, so I did."
"Bastard," Logan whispers. His heart feels for Jean-Luc, but he can't condone the patriarch's actions. "Ya could have said the baby never survived birth! Ya could have taken him into safety."
"Non, I couldn't." Suddenly, Jean-Luc's voice is icy. "I wasn't alone. Two other master thieves accompanied me."
"What happened next?" Logan fights the urge to let his claws pop out and slash the furniture to pieces.
"I knew dat de Antiquary was a vile man. Dere were rumours dat he abused de children dat made up his collection, but my hands were tied. Ten years later, I was strong enough to challenge his authority and I ended up banishing him from de Guild. Needless to say dat de Guild never forgave me for weakening deir position. De Antiquary promised to return, to extract revenge."
"So ya banished him? Where was Remy all that time?" Slowly, he calms down, realizing Jean-Luc is still suffering, is still paying the prize for his mistake.
"I helped Remy flee de collection, which was quickly taken over by de Antiquary's allies. At least de abuse stopped." Jean-Luc hates going back in time, hates telling this.
"What 'bout Remy?" Logan pushes on, curious and enraged.
"Unfortunately Remy ran after I got him out. He was so fast dat I lost track of him. He lived on de streets for a few months. Den, my men located him and I arranged it for Remy to be able to pick my pocket. Dat's when I took him in."
"And yer still payin' the prize, even now?" Logan doesn't know how to react, what to feel or think.
"Not paying," Jean-Luc corrects him. "I really love Remy, consider him my own flesh and blood. He makes good what's wrong in my life." Jean-Luc searches for the right words. "Mattie and I spent ten years to undo a small percentage of de damage de Antiquary did. When I realized how badly he hurt Remy? I can never forgive myself for being such a coward when I was younger."
"And ya want to talk to the bastard, why?" Logan has reached his decision. He will stand beside Jean-Luc in this search, but it will take him some time to come to terms with what Jean-Luc did. //But he has been doin' a great job makin' himself miserable... and he helped Remy the best he could?//
"De other kids in de collection never went through de kind of abuse Remy suffered. I want to know why de Antiquary was so determined to break him." Jean-Luc wonders if he has lost Logan's trust. He hopes not, realizing how important the Canadian's forgiveness is to him. "I never wanted to hurt Remy."
"What 'bout the kid's parents?" He will deal with Jean-Luc's guilt later. It's time to look towards the future. Staying stuck in the past won't help them.
"Dat's another reason why I want to talk to him. He also ordered me to steal de baby's birth certificate. I think dat he wanted to eradicate all evidence dat Remy ever existed."
"Ya didn't peek at the names on it?"
"Non, I was too shaken when I realized how special de baby was?"
Logan raises a questioning eyebrow. "Special?"
"Being a mutant? and his smile? his small fingers closed around mine and? my heart broke when I had to hand him over." Jean-Luc feels a little reassured, now that Logan's still here, not walking out on him.
"So," Logan recaps, "We go find the bastard responsible for this and find out why he wanted Remy and who his parents are."
"You're still going to help me?" Jean-Luc asks to make sure. "I know what I did was wrong?" he offers as apology.
"I know that? and I can hardly believe ya stooped that low, but we should concentrate on helping the kid the best we can. Are ya gonna tell him the truth?" Logan watches him closely, noticing the twitch near Jean-Luc's mouth.
"I never planned on telling him," Jean-Luc admits. "I don't want to hurt him even more. I don't know how he will react when he finds out. I would destroy de trust between us."
"But now yer livin' a lie," Logan replies slowly. "But I can understand 'bout not wantin' to hurt him."
"Logan," Jean-Luc gets up and walks over to the Canadian. "Has dis changed things between us?"
"I don't know yet," Logan whispers, sighs and rises from the chair. Staring into each other's eyes, he studies Jean-Luc. "I will help ya track the Antiquary down. We will find those answers and after that? I don't know. We just have to take this one step at a time."
"Merci," Jean-Luc says relieved. "I hoped you'd understand?"
"To a certain degree," Logan corrects him. "I understand about bein' forced to follow orders, but? this is a mess, man."
Jean-Luc nods his head. "Mais I am glad you know de truth now? not even Mattie knows?"
"Hey, Cajun?" Logan lifts a hand and rests it on the thief's shoulder. "We all make mistakes. Yers ruined a kid's life? But ya tried to make it up to him. Remy really loves ya? Ya did de best ya could."
Relieved, Jean-Luc realizes he can count on Logan's continued support. However, he doesn't know what this has done to their relationship. Only time will tell.
"Jean-Luc?" Mattie steps into the study, face determined, eyes questioning. "I know where you can find him."
"Mattie?" Jean-Luc quickly walks up to her. She has her own sources to extract information, sources that he can't access. "Where is he?"
"Russia? Moscow." Mattie studies them both, determination shines from their eyes, then she speaks her concern. "I don' want Remy to get hurt because of dis."
"Warren will protect him," Jean-Luc assures her. "Call Marceaux! I need to tell him dat he's now in charge of de Guild! Logan, we're leaving in a few hours! Get ready!"
"I'm ready to kick some ass," Logan hisses. He leaves the room, knowing that Jean-Luc has to take care of some loose threads and he wonders how the Guild will react to Jean-Luc stepping down.
"Be careful, Jean," Mattie says concerned. "De Antiquary knows your fears. He will summon up your personal demons." She walks up to him. "He will threaten to hurt Remy if you don' back off. Ask yourself, is findin' out de truth worth it?"
"Oui, it is!" Jean-Luc states resolved. "Remy deserves to know de truth!"

Ireland
"All right," Warren mumbles, "You want to use the comp first? Jean-Luc should know we arrived safely." He looks up at Remy, who's obviously having a hard time staying put on the couch. They finished breakfast an hour ago and he retrieved the laptop from the car.
"You don' mind?" Remy inquires as Warren puts the laptop on his knees. "Won' read any of your mail," he promises softly.
Warren settles down next to him on the couch and picks up the TV guide. "Go ahead, Rem. I'm going to plan the rest of our day." Now that Remy's stuck in the house, he plans on taking things slow. Remy needs rest, not running about. He grabs a pen and starts highlighting the programs that might be of interest.
Slightly confused, Remy opens a new message and addresses it to poppa. Next, his fingers freeze. "Don' know what to write."
"Why's that?" Warren looks up from the guide.
"I never? never kept in contact," Remy tries to explain. "Poppa doesn' have de time to answer my messages? dis will only make him feel guilty."
Warren puts the TV guide down. "Want to write it together?"
Remy gives in. "What should I write?"
"Dearest poppa," Warren starts and gives him a warm smile. Sudden amusement shines from red eyes.
"Dearest poppa it is," Remy whispers and types the words. "Now what?"
"C'mon, Remy!" Warren sighs exasperated. He gets to his feet and starts rummaging in one of Remy's bags, which he still needs to unpack. He locates the framed picture and puts it on the shelf near the fireplace. Both Cajuns look happy and thrilled. "Tell him what you feel."
Remy sighs, "You can be irritatin', cher."
"Thanks!" Warren smiles teasingly. "Want some tea or do you prefer coffee?"
"Tea," Remy mumbles absentmindedly as he types away.
Dearest poppa? we arrived safely. So far I've only seen the inside of the house. Warren is really overly protective, like you are.
He makes sure that Warren is still in the kitchen, wanting a little privacy before making his next admission.
Last night I had a terrible nightmare about? him. Will he ever stop haunting me? Poppa? I feel lost? but I have Warren and he's really supportive. Held me through the night and even called me love!
This morning we even kissed? after I freaked out. Warren went to get some groceries and I thought he had left me again. I was so stupid?
But? he still doesn't like touching me, poppa. I think it's the scars. Warren probably thinks about what the Antiquary did when touching me? It's strange though.
Remy listens to the sounds Warren is making in the kitchen, still feeling safe enough to continue to bear his soul.
I don't understand this. He hasn't even addressed having sex. Is that because he hates the scars? Why else? I know that you tried to explain to me that sex and love are two different things, but I still don't get it.
"Remy? What a snack as well? I got cookies." Warren looks over at the couch, seeing his lover's knitted brow. Damn, he wishes Jean-Luc could have tagged along.
"Sure," Remy whispers lost in thought.
Sorry to bother you about this, poppa, but you're the only one who understands. I know that you're too busy to answer this message? That's okay. I just want you to know that I love you and am thinking about you.
Your son, Remy.
After a moment's thought, he sends the message. He can only hope that Jean-Luc has the time to read the email, but he certainly doesn't expect an answer.
"Your tea? and cookies," Warren hands him the cup and then places the laptop on the coffee table. He plans on emailing Bobby later. "What are you thinking about, Rem?" He dislikes seeing the apprehension in those red eyes. Instinctively, he knows how important it is that they discuss these matters. Remy shutting him out is the worst thing that can happen!
"T'inkin' 'bout us," Remy admits as he slowly sips from his tea.
"Us?" Warren puts his tea on the coffee table and turns to study his love.
"Oui? It's so? weird dat you're hesitant to touch me," Remy chokes out in a tiny tone.
In an effort to reassure him, Warren takes hold of his left hand and soothingly rubs his fingers. "I'm working on it. Dad never hugged me? It's hard to change my way of thinking."
"Dat's not it," Remy objects, lost in thought. He speaks his mind before realizing he's saying the words aloud. "Never been wid someone who wants to take t'ings slow? who doesn' jump me?"
"Rem," Warren reaches up and caresses Remy's face. "I want to take things slow because I want this to be different."
"Different from what?" Pleadingly, Remy stares into blue eyes. "Make me understand. Do you t'ink I'm ugly? Because of de scars?" The words escape unintended.
"Is that it?" Warren whispers in sudden understanding. "You mentioned this last night too."
"Most men just want sex?" Remy explains earnestly. "Den dey dump me."
//Jean-Luc is right? Remy still thinks, feels and acts too much like a victim, like he doesn't have any say in the matter.// Carefully, Warren chooses his next words. "I will try to explain this to you, Rem." He lifts Remy's hand to his lips and kisses the knuckles. Remy's sudden intake of breath makes him smile. He feels excited as well.
"Oui?" Remy whispers in a desperate tone. He doesn't know what to make of Warren's signals. They confuse him.
"Do you remember Betsy? Psylocke?" he asks concerned. If he wants Remy to fully understand his reasons he has to explain the past first.
A shudder rocks his body as the face of a dark haired woman appears in his mind. "I think I do." He doesn't add that he never liked her. //Merde!// he realizes with a start. "Betsy and you?"
"We were an item, yes, but we split up months ago," he says soothingly. "We're no longer together."
His panic grows less, hearing the reassurance. Briefly, he was scared that Warren was cheating on Betsy, playing him as well. "What does she have to do wid? us?" He speaks the word hesitantly.
Warren feels uncomfortable. He never admitted this to himself. "On our first date we ended up in bed. We had sex and I felt like I had to perform to the best of my ability, to satisfy her every need."
Remy blushes. "You don' have to tell me dis."
"No, I need to tell you, just listen." Warren draws in a deep breath. "I only realized this recently. I hated being judged by my performance in bed. She always made it very clear that she was doing me a great favor, letting me touch her like that. Each time after we had sex, she would disappear into the shower to clean up. It always made me feel like she wanted to wash me off."
"I'm sorry," Remy mumbles uncomfortably. "Why are you tellin' me dis?"
"I want to take this slow, because I don't want it to be about sex." Warren caresses his alien eyes and Remy closes them in bliss. "I want this relationship to be about other things as well, trust, love, honesty."
"I never tried dat?" Remy confesses, lost as gentle fingers trace his lips.
"Neither have I, but I am willing to make this work." Warren smiles, seeing the happy smile on his love's face. "We're going to take this slow, Rem."
"I?" Remy hesitates, afraid to speak his fears. "I'll fuck dis up. I don' know how to make dis work."
"Hey, love." It surprises him how easily that little word slips from his lips. "We're in this together. We'll figure it out."
Remy shakes his head. "Never had a successful relationship 'fore."
"Then this will be our first," Warren reassures him and leans in closer to press a teasing kiss on Remy's lips. "Geeze, this is getting easier all the time." Then, he halts, realizing something. "You can take the initiative too, you know." Thus far, he instigated their kissing.
"Ange?" Remy avoids his eyes, focusing on the cookies in his lap. Warren's fingers still caress his brow, lovingly tracing the scar. "Don' I gross you out?" Merde, he never wanted to say that! He cringes, wishing he could flee the room this instant, but his injury makes that impossible.
"Gross me out?" Warren repeats shocked. "Why do think that?" He takes hold of Remy's hands and pulls him a little closer. "Just tell me, Remy." The books Jean-Luc gave him stressed the importance of discussing feelings. He's really happy Remy isn't shutting him out.
"You know what de Antiquary did, what I sometimes had to do to survive on de streets? I had lovers before I joined de X-Men? all fucked up relationships or messy one nightstands. I can' believe you want me." Hesitantly, he peeks at Warren's eyes. "I've been 'round de block, Ange."
"Rem," he whispers shocked. "I wish you had never been hurt like that. I understand that you need time to? adjust to this, so do I, but I will never think less of you because of the abuse or your affaires. All I want is you? just the way you are."
"Needed to hear dat," Remy whispers nervously. Trembling, he leans forward and nestles against Warren's chest. "I'm?"
Warren distinctly hears the self-loathing and stops him. "I love you, Rem." He chuckles privately. //Never told Betsy this many times that I loved her.// Maybe they had said it once or twice during the time they were together.
Remy remains quiet, simply savouring the arms locked around him, the heartbeat close to him. "I'm sleepy, sorry."
"You didn't sleep that well last night," Warren states. "Why don't you take a nap right now? I need to write some messages, unpack the rest of our stuff and?" He smiles, sensing Remy's regular breathing. Gently, he gets to his feet and helps Remy to get comfortable on the couch. Then he retrieves the comforter from their bedroom and covers the Cajun with it. "Sleep tight," he whispers and kisses Remy's brow. Yeah, touching isn't that hard anymore!
He carries the laptop over to the kitchen table and sits down. As his eyes scan the screen, he sees that Remy sent one message, addressed to his father. Briefly, he's tempted to read it, but then dismisses the idea. Remy's entitled to his privacy.
A grin surfaces on his face as he types in Bobby's email addy. Blue furry balls? How does Bobby come up with these things?
Hello Drake! I'm trying hard not think about what will happen should Hank find out about your new email address. He will think up some terrible punishment! How are things with Nicholas? Did you go out on that date? Just want you to know that I really want to hear about that one!
More on a serious note. I never expected you to find out that Remy's still alive or that I'm love with him. But thanks for all the advice you gave me (and for kicking my butt!)
I returned to New Orleans and I told him I love him. Remy feels the same way. We decided to go to Ireland (that's where we are now) to try and work things out. I'm following your advice, Bobby, taking things slow.
Did I already tell you that he has amnesia? It's getting better? or worse. He doesn't remember Rogue and only now starts to dream about the trial. You know what really freaks me out? Remy remembering that I told him to defend himself. Remembering that could shatter the trust we managed to build.
There's so much more I want to tell you, but I can't. I know things will be tough and I will need someone to talk to. There's so much I need to tell you, but I want your word first that this will remain between the two of us. You can't tell Hank! Do you understand, Drake?
Okay, let me know if you're okay with that. I need to check on Remy. He fell asleep on the couch and his side has been acting up.
Take care, Ice Cube!
Warren.
Reading his message over he shakes his head. He only planned on a short note, not a letter. Well, looks like he needed to get this off his chest! After he sent the message, he closes the laptop and returns to Remy, who's still deeply asleep, a sleep undisturbed by dreams.
"What do I do next?" Warren wonders aloud. It's only 13.00 and there's no way he will leave the house as long as Remy is asleep. He doesn't want to scare the hell out of him ever again. "Well, I didn't get that much sleep either," he sighs and sits down on one end of the couch. Slowly, he pulls Remy's head onto his lap.
The Cajun doesn't even wake, knowing he's safe as long as Warren's near and shifts a little closer, never releasing the comforter.
Warren rests his feet on the coffee table and settles for stroking Remy's hair and listening to his steady breathing. A few minutes later, he dozes off as well.

Hours later, Remy wakes and opens his eyes. He feels surprisingly warm and comfortable. Quickly, he realizes the reason why. Warren's holding him tightly in his sleep. His head rests in his lap and Warren's arms rest on his. His eyes continue to scan his lover's face, remembering bits and pieces of their last conversation.
"Takin' t'ings slow." He doesn't know how to do that. All his relationships were based on sex? he never managed to connect on another level. The only exception to that rule is Jean-Luc, but what they share is very special. If it hadn't been for poppa and tante he would have given up a long time.
Ashamed, he remembers all the times he tested poppa, tested his commitment and honestly. Even after spending several weeks at the LeBeau household he expected Jean-Luc to turn into a monster like the Antiquary. But that never happened. Jean-Luc always treated him like his son.
And that's exactly what he's doing to Warren now, testing him, but this time subconsciously. Warren insisting that they will take it slow confuses and relieves him at the same time.
He never stopped hoping that one day he would find someone who will love him just the way he is. But now that Warren is here, he feels scared of disappointing his new love.
"Don't do that."
Warren's voice takes him by surprise. "Sorry," he whispers, realizing that he has been looking at his love's face for several minutes. "T'ought you were still 'sleep."
Warren locks eyes with him and smiles. "You slept well?"
"Oui, t'anks to you," Remy admits. "Havin' you dis close makes me feel safe."
Absentmindedly, Warren strokes his auburn hair. "Does this feel good to you too? It feels so right," he muses.
Remy can't help but concur. "It does. Can' explain it, mais?"
Warren licks his lips. "Rem, about that kiss this morning. I hope you don't think I'm pushing you." He silences Remy by placing a finger over his lips. "No, I mean it. I don't know what pace is appropriate. I try gauging your reactions, but?"
"You ain' pushin' me," Remy assures him. "I liked kissin you."
"Would you be interested in? you know? another kiss?" Warren smiles, cocks his head and remembers Remy's passionate reaction earlier this morning. But damn! He is scared that this will set off nasty flashbacks in Remy's mind. "Just be honest, Rem."
"I'd like to kiss you? and do a lot more," Remy sighs. Suddenly, his eyes widen. Why did he add that last part?
"It's okay, Remy, I understand." Warren leans in closer, gently holding Remy's face between his hands. He moans as their lips brush. Soft tremors rock their bodies as tongues trace the insides of each other's lips. Warren's eyes remain open, carefully monitoring his love's reaction. So far Remy still feels comfortable. Willingly, he parts his lips, luring Remy's tongue inside.
Remy groans at the delicious sweetness inside. Warren's eyes are locked with his, making him even more aware of the fact how much his ange loves him. The kiss seems to last for hours and after an eternity he comes up for breath. "Cher? wow," he whispers dizzy. "Never felt dis good, dis right."
Warren nods his head. "Know what you mean, Rem?" He laughs warmly as Remy's stomach growls with hunger. "Dinner time, huh?" he says teasingly.
"Am 'fraid so," Remy replies and allows Warren to pull him into a sitting position. The pain in his side has lessened considerably.
"You still need to take your antibiotics." Warren gets to his feet and collects the meds from the kitchen table. He offers them to Remy with a glass of water.
"How much longer do I have to take dem?"
Warren looks at the instructions. "Looks like another 7 days, Rem."
"Merde?"
Amused, Warren pulls him gently to his feet. "Why don't you go upstairs and clean up a little? I'm going to start dinner and you can lay the table?"
Remy nods his head. He does want to change into a fresh set of sweats. "Je t'aime," he whispers suddenly, eyes warm with affection.
"Love you too, Rem," Warren replies and places a swift kiss on already bruised lips. //Never thought that saying it would be that easy. Actually, I want to scream it at the mountains!//

"Never knew you're such an excellent cook," Remy compliments him. He really ate too much, but it was so delicious! "And de dessert?" He seriously doubts he can eat dessert!
"Chocolate mousse," Warren announces and places the plate in front of him. "Just a few bites or do you want me to feed you?"
"Temptin'." Remy quips, suddenly teased by a vision of Warren covered in chocolate mousse, waiting for him to lick it off his body. However, the image also invokes another memory, one he tried to forget for years?
"What is it?" Warren recognizes the naked terror in his eyes and needs to push, needs to know the truth in order to help him. "You can tell me everything, love."
Hearing that word pushes him over the edge. "He made me go down on him?"
Speechless, Warren swallows hard. //Oh my God, Remy!// He gets up from his chair and quickly covers the distance. Covering Remy's hands with his, he manages to catch his evasive gaze. "I don't know what to say," he offers honestly. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Hold me?" Remy cuts him short, determined not to let the Antiquary stand between them. The old man is not going to ruin this!
"Crazy Cajun," Warren whispers affectionately and puts his arms around his trembling frame. "It's okay to cry in order to let go. It's okay to cry," he repeats and is relieved when something wet moistens his shirt. "Just let go, Rem."
Holding onto Warren, Remy finally starts to let go of his pain.

Westchester
"Scott?" Bobby raises an eyebrow. He's distributing the mail and has already delivered a bunch of scientific magazines to Hank and the professor, a package with oriental seeds to Storm for her garden and is now knocking on Scott's door. "C'mon, Slim. I don't have all day!"
"Bobby?" Jean rushes to the door and opens it. "Scott's in the danger room, working on a new program. Why don't you give it to me?"
"Here you go, sweetheart ?" His eyes grow big, realizing what he just called Jean.
"I take it your date with Nicholas went well?" Jean smiles, accepts the small package and puts it on Scott's side of the bed.
"Actually, Nicholas and I had a talk last night," Bobby reveals, blushing slightly. "He doesn't have a problem with me being a mutant."
"That's great," Jean says happily. "Is there a chance I can meet him, or are you greedily going to keep him to yourself?" She steps out of the room, planning on helping Scott test the new training program.
"Maybe we can have lunch together?? I am sure he won't mind. He's very easy-going?" Bobby sighs, blissfully in love.
Angry voices ruin his happy mood. "What?" he asks Jean. "Sounds like Joseph and?"
"Rogue? they've been fighting ever since Warren asked about Remy." Jean's eyes grow saddened. "I don't want to believe she left him out there to die, but? right now it's the only possible answer."
"How can I trust you, Rogue?" Joseph's voice echoes through the corridor, followed by a slammed door.
"I always liked Rogue," Bobby admits thoughtfully and watches as Rogue appears and flies off through one of the open windows. "But I guess I've been blind to her true nature."
"Bobby," Jean pats his shoulder. "We've got to move on. I just wish Remy hadn't died out there."
Bobby's tempted to tell her the truth, knowing darn well she's mourning Remy's death, but he can't do that without Warren's permission. But maybe he can give her hope. "We never found his body, Jean. Maybe he made it out alive?"
Briefly, hope flickers in her eyes, but then dies. "Thanks, Bobby, but we both know miracles like that don't happen to people like us." Saddened, she recomposes herself and follows Bobby to the danger room.

 

Chapter Twenty-Three

Westchester
It has been a long, very long day and exhausted, Scott stumbles into their bedroom. Silently, he thanks Jean for the offer to finish the training program. He really needs a break. He has been at this for too many hours, all the time trying to forget just why he's burying himself in this huge amount of work.
He failed. It's as simple as that. Fearless leader failed a team-mate. "Why can't I stop thinking about it?" he wonders aloud as he drags himself into the bathroom to take a quick shower. As the water cascades down his body he releases a deep sigh, letting go of his tension.
Gambit. The name continues to twist in his mind. He failed the Cajun. No matter what happened in the past, Remy proved time and time again that he was a true X-Men. Compassionate and ready to fight for a just cause. Damn! Why didn't he pick up earlier on the problems between Rogue and Gambit? True, it's none of his business, but the professor entrusts their lives to him whenever they leave on a mission!
"Wish I arrived earlier? If Bobby and I had gotten there earlier, Gambit might still be alive now. We might have been able to bring him back."
Now things are a mess. Rogue took Joseph as a new lover and he just can't figure it out. Why Joseph? Just because they can touch? Is that all a relationship is to Rogue?
He tries to imagine having Rogue's mutant power, unable to touch bare skin. Would it keep him away from Jean? Would it destroy the love between them? "Rather slap on a Genoshan collar? " At least that way he can touch her, make love to her. But he feels certain that Rogue never considered it. He knows, because Hank has a few collars for research purposes and they never left the lab.
And again he wonders. Was it true love between them? "On both their parts," he whispers aloud. It still strikes him as odd that Gambit would choose a lover who can't be touched. Damn! This is messing with his mind!
//Sweetheart?// Jean walks into their rooms and cautiously probes her husband's mind. //Is this okay?// she asks carefully, not wanting to invade his privacy.
"Yes," Scott sighs deeply. He steps out of the shower cabin and wraps himself up in warm towels. As he walks into their bedroom he forces a smile onto his face.
//Hey, I miss him too,// Jean sends soothingly and she sits down on the bed, patting the space next to her. //Want a backrub? You look tired. Stop blaming yourself for Remy's death. You weren't even there, sweetie.//
"We waited too long before going back to Antarctica." Fatigued, he picks up the package Bobby handed Jean and throws it onto the chair. Feels like a letter? maybe with a file attached to it. He can check it out later. First, he needs Jean's closeness.
"Scott," Jean starts, pulling him down next to her. "You went back there. You tried to find him. You did everything humanly possible. Let it go. It's okay to mourn his death." It's something she has been doing for months, mourning her friend's death.
Scott sits quietly. "I lost too many people? Jean. You know that," he whispers shakily, surrendering to Jean's touch. "I just want it to stop."

Ireland
Warren smiles warmly, as Remy drops next to him onto the couch. "You ready to watch the first movie?" When he picked up the groceries, he also checked out the vids for rental and chose two.
"You're really serious 'bout takin' t'ings easy!" Remy sighs exasperated. He doesn't remember the last time he had this much spare time. With the X-Men, there was always a villain to fight! Getting used to a different rhythm of life will take time.
"Yeah, I am!" Warren quips and puts in the first vid. "I even made popcorn." He also points out the soft drinks on the coffee table. "No alcohol as long as you're on meds!"
"Merde, you no fun!" Remy curses softly, but makes sure amusement colors his eyes. "You turnin' into a moder hen, ange!"
"You need one!" Warren counters and forgets to exhale when Remy moves a little closer. "What are you doing?"
Remy lifts one of his love's arms, drapes it over his shoulder and snuggles up to him. "Gettin' comfortable for de movie," he announces wickedly, resting his head on Warren's shoulder.
Remy fits perfectly against his body. "Oh," escapes Warren breathlessly. It starts a reaction in his groin, almost making his determination crumble. But he knows what's at stake and that he has to stay strong. "You tease! You're doing this on purpose!"
"Oui, guess you're right," Remy admits blissfully as he's pulled closer. "What movie did you rent?" In the back of his mind he fervently hopes it's not a movie with a lot of snow and ice in it.
"Hope you'll like it. It's called 'The Mummy' and comes highly recommended by Bobby." Warren pushes the play button and then grabs the popcorn bowl, balancing it on his knees. Remy immediately lunges forward to grab a handful and Warren can't help but smile. "Hungry again?" Remy's appetite has returned with a vengeance.
"Oui, mais popcorn will do?" he looks up wickedly. "What are you goin' to cook me for dinner dis eve?" It's fun pushing Warren's buttons a little. It surprises him how much he enjoys the man's reactions.
"Me? Cooking dinner for you?" Warren exclaims with a grin on his face. "Well, maybe," he gives in quickly, too relieved to see the smile on the Cajun's face. He's not going to argue! "Now be quiet and let's watch the movie!"
"Does Bobby know 'bout me?"
The question hits Warren unprepared. Should he tell the truth or a white lie? "Why are you asking me that question?" With one eye he continues to watch the commercials.
"Because your message was addressed to Bobby Drake," Remy says suddenly uncomfortable. "I peeked st the addy," he admits in a guilty tone. "I just wanted to check if poppa replied? "
"It's okay," Warren says soothingly. "I should tell you anyway. I don't want to have any secrets from you."
"Ange?" Remy looks up, eyes big, lip quivering. "Did you tell him?"
"Honestly, Rem, he figured it out himself. I needed to talk to someone when I realized that I loved you." Warren stops the tape and focuses on his love. "He kicked my butt back to New Orleans, telling me I was a fool to let love slip away."
"He figured it out himself?" Remy urges him on, still leaning against him for support.
"I kinda? defended you when they mentioned Antarctica and the trial," he confesses, leaving Joseph and Rogue out for now. Remy is not up to remembering them yet and he won't force the process. "Bobby found it? odd that I felt that strongly about you getting stuck out there and? at that time I had already told him I was in love with a man." Heart pounding, he waits for Remy's disapproval. "Sorry that I violated your trust."
But Remy just gives him a warm smile. "You defended me?"
He wonders if Remy heard the rest of his admission as well, as the Cajun only focuses on that one fact. "Yeah, I did. You might want to know that others disagree with the way things went at the trial as well. You still got friends in Westchester."
Shyly, Remy looks away. "I'm not sure 'bout dat, cher." At a loss, he asks, "Do dey know I worked for Sinister? That I helped de Marauders??"
Warren cuts him short. "They know, but you're not to blame for the Massacre. Please try to get that into your thick skull!"
Remy remains quiet and Warren is urged into action. "Love," and geeze, how easily does that little word slip from his lips! "You don't have to worry about Bobby. He's a friend. Ice Cube practically hit the ceiling when he realized that you are still alive."
"I always liked Bobby," Remy whispers, "Mais I always felt dat he didn' like me, 'cause of?" Suddenly, he falls silent, wondering why Bobby seemed to dislike him. "I don' remember," he admits softly.
"You'll remember when you're ready to remember. So, do you mind Bobby and I talking on the net? maybe even talking about you?" Warren phrases this carefully. "Bobby and I have been friends for years."
Remy shrugs his shoulders. "I don' mind?" But is that the truth? Does he know himself? How does it make him feel, knowing one of the X-Men learned he's still alive?
"Want to watch the movie now?" Warren inquires and hands Remy the remote. "Or do you want to talk some more?"
"Non, movie sounds fine." He can worry about Bobby later. Right now only Warren holding him matters.

"Dat was a? spooky movie!" Remy chuckles amused, wondering if you can get high on soft drinks and too much popcorn and chocolate.
"Yeah," Warren agrees as he balances the tape in his hand. "We still got one more to go."
"I'm hungry, ange."
"Dinner first?" He checks the time, 19.00. "I can nuke a pizza?"
"Nuke a pizza?" Remy can't help but laugh warmly. "I always took you for de 'healt'y' type!"
Warren nods his head. "Usually, I am, but I want to get back onto the couch with you." Closely, he watches Remy's stunned reaction. The red on black eyes widen, the pupils dilate and the Cajun looks flabbergasted.
"You're kiddin'," Remy whispers taken aback. Part of him still has problems believing that Warren really loves him that much.
"No, I'm not!" Surprisingly quickly Warren gets to his feet.
Remy never expected that move and falls to his side. "Merde, cher!" he curses teasingly.
"I'm back in five!" Warren promises and runs into the kitchen.
Remy watches him disappear, hears him rummaging around in the fridge, opening the oven and shoving the pizzas inside. "Wid extra cheese!" he calls out and ducks as a pillow comes flying at him. Mon Dieu? he hasn't had such a great time in? years? And he owes it all to Warren.
30 Minutes later, they dig into the pizza. Remy's pizza is topped with extra cheese and Warren added some canned pineapple to his. Warren curses as some cheesy strings end up in his face instead of his mouth. When getting the groceries he remembered just in time that pizza was Remy's favorite food. "Tomorrow, you cook!"
"Moi? Cook?" Remy quips and laughs brilliantly, remembering his chocolate fantasy about Warren. "What's de oder movie 'bout? More mummies?"
Warren pushes the tape inside and hits play. "Okay, this one will probably be lost on us but? I always wanted to see what the fuss was about."
His curiosity piqued, Remy keeps a close eye on the screen, but distinctly sees Warren struggling with another cheesy string. He's feeling incredibly giddy and contended, though he's not quite sure why. Maybe it's the relaxed mood.
Warren finishes his pizza and announces, "We're going to watch Titanic!"
Remy pretends annoyance. "Titanic? Ain' dat a little too romantic?" He puts Warren's and his plate on the coffee table and grabs the pillow Warren threw at him. He's feeling so relaxed, so safe that he doesn't realize what he's doing until he hears Warren's surprised intake of breath. "What??"
Warren looks down at the Cajun, whose head is now resting on the pillow, which is placed on his lap. "Getting comfortable for the movie?"
Slightly embarrassed, Remy realizes that's lying down. When did that happen?
"Stay put, Rem." Warren keeps him from getting to his feet and pulls up the quilt, which he threw on the floor earlier. "Let's make sure we stay warm." After covering Remy's body with it, his hands tangle in the auburn hair and rub Remy's back. "How's the side?"
"Bien," Remy whispers very softly. He quavers at Warren's touch. "You 'kay wid dis?" he asks hesitantly, remembering Warren's reluctance to touch him.
"I'm fine?" Warren fingers a silk lock. "Now shut up, movie is about to start!"
Remy smiles, draws in a deep breath, wishing this moment will never end!
Worried, Warren addresses his love. "Rem?" He completely forgot that one of the main characters in the movies dies in the freezing water. Remy's shivering underneath his fingertips and he tries to peek at the red on black eyes. He blames himself for choosing this movie. It's obviously bringing back bad memories and upsetting the Cajun. Saying, "The movie has a happy ending," is all he can think of.
"It's just?" Remy hesitates? "I remember de cold."
"I'm so sorry," Warren offers sincerely. //Wished I returned to get you out of there.// The guilt will never leave him. He pulls Remy closer and places a kiss on the locks. "You survived."
Remy doesn't reply, intrigued by the sudden twist in the movie when they return to the present and show Rose as an old woman. "Happy end?" he asks hopefully.
"Yeah, just watch." Saddened by his own failure back in Antarctica he wonders how Remy will react when he remembers his part in the trial.
They remain quiet for a few minutes, simply enjoying the end of the movie. Remy relaxes, realizing the movie has a happy end indeed. "Good movie?"
"Yeah, understand now what the fuss was about," Warren whispers, checking the time, 22.00. "Want to turn in early, Rem? We could use some extra sleep." It's been such a relaxed evening that hopefully all nightmares have been chased away.
"I'm not sure I can sleep yet." Remy struggles back into a sitting position.
"Okay?" Warren says tentatively and gets Remy's meds. "Here, take them." As he watches Remy swallow the meds, he wonders what would make this evening truly perfect. Remy's questioning look makes him think harder. "Go upstairs and change into warm clothes; boots, coat, sweater?"
"We're goin' outside?" Remy's brow grows furrowed. "T'ought you wanted to keep me locked up here?"
"Is your side bothering you?" Warren inquires, just to make sure that he can proceed with his plan.
"Side's just bien," Remy replies mystified. The forced rest is really helping.
"Get changed?" Warren drags him upstairs, shoes him into his bedroom and then heads for his own room, where his clothes are.
"Why?" Remy calls out from his room. Quickly, he looks outside of the window. Looks like it's near freezing point, so he decides to add another sweater and puts on a second pair of socks before slipping into his boots. "What are you up to?" Not knowing what's going to happen thrills him. He trusts Warren completely and judging from his love's eyes, he's up to something unexpected!
Warren strolls into his room, checking his love's clothing. "You sure you won't be cold?"
"I'm sure? now tell me!" Remy nearly explodes with curiosity.
"In a moment, Rem," Warren says, refusing to give in just yet. Colour has returned to Remy's face and he loves seeing the sparkle in those eyes. "Let's go outside then."
Remy follows him, puzzled and curious. "We goin' for a walk, ange?" He feels strong enough for that, but hopes that it won't last longer than an hour max. Last thing he wants is to pass out during a walk.
Warren opens the door and gestures Remy to step outside as well. He locks the door and smiles at his love. "Come here, Rem."
Moving hesitantly, Remy walks up to him, uncertain what to expect. "Cold here."
"It's going to get even colder," Warren warns him. "Get behind me," he instructs and spreads his wings. He almost forgot the thrill of feeling air moving through his feathers. It's been a while since he flew? the sniper injured his back and wing, but the wound's healed and he feels strong again.
Puzzled, Remy does as he's told and settles down between the magnificent white wings.
"Put your arms around my waist," Warren says gently and quickly claims Remy's hands as they clasp in front of him.
Remy's lost, staring at the soft feathers, the strong wings. He's seen Warren in flight, taking out opponents or flying for the mere joy of it. He's about to ask what this is about as Warren's wings stir to life.
"Hold on, love," Warren quips as their feet lose contact with the ground. "Hope you want to go flying with me, Rem?"
Choked up, Remy can only nod his head in Warren's neck. He's tightly holding on to the body in front of him.
After they reached a comfortable height Warren manoeuvres them in a horizontal position, so Remy's resting against his back. He's scared to ask whether Remy's okay with this.
Remy however, is completely lost in this unexpected sensation. White feathers surround him, keeping him close, taking him higher and making him feel safe. He doesn't look down, as those white feathers continue to fascinate him. Curiously, his hands move over the bone that springs from Warren's back. It's a dream come true. He never told anyone, not even Stormy, but he loves to fly and he always dreamt that an angel would take him to the heavens.
"Rem?" Warren whispers quietly, approaching a small lake. "I'm not scaring you, am I?" Maybe he should have asked if Remy wanted to go flying with him in the first place.
"Lovin' it," Remy mumbles fascinated by the perpetual movement of the wings, carrying them further. "It's always been one of my secret fantasies?" Tenderly, he nuzzles Warren's neck, pressing his lips against the blue skin. "Merci, ange."
Swallowing hard, Warren tries to think up an answer. But the moment is too perfect in time to spoil the experience with words. He concentrates on the Cajun, resting on his back, caressing the cold hands around his waist. "Do you want to go back or??"
"Keep flyin'? Just a little longer?" Remy requests softly. He cocks his head and rests it on Warren's back, losing himself as he stares at the wings.
Fifteen minutes later, Warren returns to the house. Remy's steady breathing assures him that he's almost asleep. He lands gently, turns around and lifts his love in his arms. After tucking his wings away, he unlocks the door and carries his precious load upstairs. But this time he doesn't plan on sleeping separately. He wants to hold Remy in his sleep.
"Ange?" Sleepy eyes open and focus on his angel. "I'm sorry? mais I'm tired."
"You still need a lot of rest. Let me get you in some sweats and then we'll turn in."
"You'll stay?" A pleading hand rises to Warren's face. "Please stay."
"I will," Warren promises and slowly peels all layers of clothing off Remy's body. A little relieved, he notices that the Cajun's skin feels warm and not cold. "Gonna tuck you in, love? will join you in a sec."
Remy's already asleep, contentedly dozing in bed. Warren pulls up the covers and then slips into some sweats himself. He goes downstairs to make sure that the door is locked, the TV switched off and then he opens his laptop. Pleased, he notices that Jean-Luc wrote back. "Will tell him in the morning?" He remembers Remy's words, clearly stating that he doesn't expect Jean-Luc to reply.
Smiling, he returns to their bedroom and studies Remy's face, lost in sleep. "Maybe I should always take you flying before turning in. Works even better than those sleeping meds, which? damn! Forget about them!"
But Remy's peacefully asleep and he can't bring himself to wake his love. Instead, he slips under the covers and gathers Remy in his arms. The Cajun immediately snuggles up to him. They settle into the same position as last night, facing each other, holding the other close.
Warren pushes a stray lock out of Remy's face and places one surprisingly gentle kiss on the Cajun's brow. "Have some sweet dreams, Rem." Briefly, he startles as Remy moans, but then he realizes what's happened, feeling his lover's hard-on press against his thigh.
A smile curls his lips. "You better be dreaming of me, Rem." And no, he wouldn't mind having an erotic dream featuring Remy. "Maybe I'll get lucky," he whispers into Remy's ear. He closes his eyes and follows his love into the world of dreams.

"Uh? what? Rem?" Warren's eyes flash open, alarmed by the frantic movement against his chest. Remy's kicking, trying to free himself of the embrace. Warren let's go at once, determined not to add to Remy's panic.
Remy doesn't know when the nightmare started or what caused it. He only knows that he's back in the Morlock tunnels, witnessing a truly horrific scene. The Marauders are moving in, but this time the Morlocks aren't the target. It's Warren.
"Non!" he screams petrified. How did they ever manage to get Warren shackled to the wall and why are his wings so? lifeless?damaged? bruised. "Non, don'!" he screams as Harpoon moves in closer. "Leave him 'lone!"
"Rem?" Completely awake, Warren tries to think of a plan of action. "Remy, wake up. It's another nightmare!" Damn, he so hoped Remy could have one peaceful night. "Rem! Wake up!" This time his tone is more forceful and he gently shakes Remy's shoulders. "Please, Rem."
Finally, the voice, the words register and his eyes open. Terrified, he stares at Warren, still hearing the pain filled moans, knowing with certainty that the Marauders hurt his wings badly. "Merde!" he curses, clutching his head between his hands. Warren's skin wasn't blue in his nightmare!
Another image flashes in his mind. This time Warren's face is contorted with hate and anger and his wings are made of steel, releasing knife like objects from his wings. The blue eyes are bereft of all human compassion and flash with darkness.
"Rem," Warren tries to reach him again. "It's only a nightmare. Please talk to me!" He isn't sure how much more he can take. The nightmares only seem to gain in intensity instead of growing less.
"Dey took your wings?" Remy asks bewildered, scared to hear the answer. "Harpoon, Arclight? Blockbuster?" Suddenly, the Marauders feel very close again. Panicking, he tries to crawl out of bed. "I put dem togeder, created dat team? and dey did dat to you? I did dat to you? I?"
A terrible pang of guilt flows from the red eyes and Warren draws in a deep breath, recomposing himself. He mentally prepared himself to deal with this moment, with the memories? with the guilt. In a calm tone he says, "Yes, they injured my wings, Rem."
"I'm sorry, so sorry," he whispers over and over again. "So sorry?"
"Remy." Warren reaches out carefully, slowly moving closer to his love. "The Marauders did that, not you. Never you. Please look at me." His heart beats frantically, hoping Remy trusts him enough to do this. "Look at me, love."
Remy looks up, drawn closer because of the tone that mirrors so much love.
"Listen closely. The Marauders injured my wings, yes. You had no part in that. A supposed friend of mine ordered them amputated and? Shit," he suddenly realizes as Remy freezes in his arms. "You didn't remember that yet?"
"Saw you wid metal wings." Remy says in an emotionless tone.
"That happened after I lost my wings. Do you remember me telling you about Apocalypse when we were stuck in the cathedral?" Taking Remy's nod as a yes, he continues, "Apocalypse messed with my mind and I ended up working for him. He made me into of his instruments."
"Deat'," Remy whispers, voice bereft of emotion. "De metal wings."
"Yes." The fact that Remy calmed down a little, reassures him that the Cajun is listening. "I still have nightmares about that time as well. But please believe me, Remy. You carry no blame. Don't feel guilty. Please. I can't look into your eyes, knowing you blame yourself. I want to look into your eyes and only see love."
Remy stares into his blue orbs and notices the determination in them. "You don' blame me?" he asks hesitantly, doubt and hope fighting in his mind.
"I blame the Marauders. I blame Hodge. I don't blame you." He releases a strangled breath as some of the panic lessens in Remy's eyes. "Let me guide you through this, Rem. You still don't remember everything." He refuses to let guilt rule his love's life.
"It wasn't your fault, Remy. You're not to blame," Warren whispers gently. "Come here?" and he pulls Remy back into his arms. "I love you. I don't hate you. I don't blame you. I love you, Rem. Love you?"
Remy relaxes under the reassurance. "You were in so much pain? in my dream?" he clarifies. "Can' bear it to see you in pain."
Warren smiles. "And I don't want you to be in pain either, so let go of that guilt, Remy. You're not to blame for what they did." Then he wickedly resorts to the one thing that seems to reassure Remy best. "Love you," he whispers and brushes soft lips. "Love you, Remy. I love you."
"You're a romantic?" Remy whispers at a loss, relishing the feel of Warren's fingers moving through his hair, over his back. Lips gently brush his, instigating a tender kiss. Involuntarily, his hands attempt to slip underneath Warren's sweats.
"You're on forbidden turf, Cajun," Warren admonishes him, wanting nothing more than let Remy touch his bare skin, but not now. Not under these circumstances. Not while Remy's still hurting.
A hesitant smile surfaces on Remy's face as Warren twines their fingers tightly. He rests his head against Warren's chest, sensing the heartbeat underneath the sweats. "Say it 'gain?"
And Warren knows what he's asking for, wanting nothing more in the world than to give it to him. "I love you, Remy. Love you."
"Je t'aime," he whispers, settling back in to the embrace. Warren has done a great job. He's actually considering that he's overreacting. Maybe Warren is right and he's not to blame for the loss of those majestic wings. Maybe if his love tells him as many times as he needs to hear it, he will believe it.
It's the most amazing thing, but Warren understands instinctively. "You're not to blame, Rem. I love you?" and he whispers the words until Remy dozes off again.
"You are not to blame," he says again once Remy's asleep. "You're not." Hopefully Remy will stop tormenting himself. He'd hoped that he would be there once that memory surfaced, taking the sting away from it, reassuring Remy, giving the guilt no chance to flourish.
Listening to Remy's breathing he calms down, centering himself. He knows the worst is still to come?

Moscow
"Ya know where to find the bastard?" Logan stares out of the window. It's snowing outside and a cold wind blows fiercely.
Jean-Luc gets up from the bed after taking a short nap. He hasn't slept this well in years. 48 Hours ago he officially resigned as patriarch, handing his power over to Marceaux. A gigantic burden has been lifted from his shoulders and for the first time in 80 years he feels free.
"I think so. But we have to move carefully. Mattie sent him a message, telling him that I want to speak to him. We could be walking into a trap." He comes to a stand still behind Logan and wraps a casual arm around the Canadian's waist. "Did I already tell you how much I appreciate it dat you came along?"
Jean-Luc is still struggling with the growing closeness, an emotional closeness he hasn't felt for decades. Maybe this is the first time ever that he really feels it. //I'm too old for dis.//
"I'm not lettin' ya do this on yer own." Logan leans back into the embrace, realizing that they need to discuss their relationship in depth later.
"We've got to leave now or we will be late," Jean-Luc informs him. "And please? let me do de talking should we find him."
His claws pop out. "I don't plan on doin' much talkin'."
"That's my point exactly," Jean-Luc sighs, but understands Logan only too well. He grabs his coat and opens the door. "I want answers?"
Logan gives him a dark grin. "I just want his guts?"
Jean-Luc isn't sure whether to laugh or to take the remark seriously, but he does feel a lot more confident confronting the old sorcerer with Logan at his side.
The door slams shut and unknown to them a shadow frees itself from the walls, fleeing the room through a window?

 

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ireland
The gentle tapping of rain against their window wakes him from a surprisingly peaceful sleep. Remy shivers as he remembers the nightmares, but the echo of Warren's words reassures him, drives the shadows of doubt away. 'Love you, Rem. I love you.' Those are the most beautiful words he has ever heard spoken in that tone. Only Jean-Luc's words come close.
He keeps his eyes shut, trying to lock out reality, unwilling to return to a world filled with pained memories. But in the end, he loses and reluctantly opens them, feeling Warren's warm body close to him.
But then his breath catches. During his sleep, Warren covered them with his wings. Feathers hover all around him, touching his skin and Warren's fingers are still tightly twined with his. "Mon Dieu," he whispers taken aback. "To 'wake in de arms of an ange?" is something that blows his mind. Has he ever felt this safe, this cherished before?
Never.
Exploratory, he slightly cocks his head so his cheek brushes the soft feathers. Only a few hours ago those wings had taken him high into the sky. Breathlessly, he snuggles closer, as close as he can get to those wings, to the man in his arms.
The movement wakes Warren, who slowly opens his eyes. Briefly, he's scared that Remy's having another nightmare, but as he sees the stunned grin on the Cajun's face, he relaxes. Looks like he finally found a way to shut Remy up efficiently. He should have realized his advantage a long time ago.
"Sleep well?" Remy inquires softly, wondering what the hell he's supposed to do to make his hard-on go away. Damn Warren for taking this slow! He's got needs, sexual needs and the man is determined to make him beg! Well, maybe he can persuade Warren to loosen up a bit. The sexual tension in his body is killing him!
"Remy, we talked about this earlier," Warren admonishes him as Remy rubs his body against his thigh. All thoughts of discussing the nightmares and taking things slow flee, as a thief's agile fingers sneak closer to his waistband. He has a morning erection as well, but he's damned if he lets Remy do this! "Not yet, love."
"Please?" Remy whispers sensually, but groans in disappointment as Warren's hand slaps his away. How can he explain to Warren that he's okay with taking the next step? Maybe he just needs to speak the words aloud, reassure his lover? "Can we?. You know? like take de next step? I want to touch you? I will behave," he promises, trying to look as dedicated as he can. "Will respect your wishes?"
Warren's tempted, sorely tempted, but feels uncomfortable. It's too early? but perhaps they can compromise? "Why don't you touch yourself for me? I've got this feeling I might cum from just watching you?" Nervously, he stares into Remy's eyes, which start to shine mischievously. Yeah, maybe this will work. This way Remy is in charge of their actions.
"Touch myself? You want me to touch myself for you? You goin' to do de same t'ing for me?" Remy asks wickedly. Oh, how cute! Warren's actually blushing crimson red! "I'll do it if you do it!" Remy announces fiercely. "Or we will bod be stuck wid blue balls!"
"Can't argue that," Warren grumbles thoughtfully. Hopefully, he didn't make the wrong decision. "You want to go first?"
Remy chuckles, feeling incredibly giddy and excited. This reminds him of being a teenager? the insecurity? the curiosity? first touches. "I trust you," he admits in a light tone and it's the truth. "You will never hurt me."
"Never," Warren groans his reassurance. He watches closely as Remy's hands slip down the sweat pants to release his throbbing erection from its confines. "What the hell are we doing?" Warren whispers, suddenly terrified at taking this step towards more intimacy.
"Cher," Remy whispers, understanding the doubt and hesitance Warren's feeling. He's known for years that he's attracted to men, but he understands nonetheless. He remembers showing his vulnerability to his first lover? only that lover dumped him a few days later.
It's the story of his life, but Warren's different. Warren wants, needs, loves him for the right reasons. Only now he allows that truth in. With Warren things will be different. And that's why he can take the lead, can guide Warren through this. "Cher, don' t'ink, just feel?"
Warren quavers and a delightful moan of passion flees him, as Remy starts to stroke himself, slowly, tightly. Swallowing hard, his eyes widen in stunned disbelief. Every time he thinks he figured Remy out, the Cajun proves him wrong again. "You okay with this?" God, last thing he wants is to pressure Remy... or for him to stop fisting himself. It's the most erotic scene he's ever seen.
"Want dis," Remy whispers sensually, "need dis, will show you." The words come slowly, as he focuses on Warren's big blue eyes. Fisting himself, he wantonly flaunts his want, proving his desire. "Would be easier if I could touch you," he whispers pleadingly.
"No way!" Warren states determinedly and suddenly realizes that his own hands slipped passed the waistband. Damn, he's hard, already dripping precum and he knows he can cum without touching himself. Just looking at Remy makes him cum. "Pinch your nipple for me?" he whispers and then bites his lip. He never wanted to speak the words aloud!
"Mais oui, cher? for you I'd do everyt'ing," Remy whispers naughtily and indulges his lover. Warren's whimper goes straight to his groin. "T'row back your head for me? Would love to see dat?" Remy whispers. His hand is slick with precum and he's dying to touch Warren, to bring him to orgasm, to do this for his love. But Warren won't let him and he has to accept that.
Warren quivers, orgasm building, ecstasy dripping into his bones and he throws back his head.
"Spread your wings? Love dose wings," Remy pleads, stroking harder.
Warren spreads his wings, moves them closer to Remy until the feathers touch the Cajun. His brow now rests against Remy's, both panting by the unexpected experience. "One day I will take you up into the sky and we will make love there," he promises in blind passion, as his hand tightens around his pulsing cock. "Not yet?" He doesn't want to cum yet, but his hand slips away as white cream erupts from the tip of his cock.
Remy licks his lips. "You needed dat bad!" he teases and surrenders to his own ecstasy while staring into Warren's blue eyes. He realizes how special this moment is. He's doing this for himself and for Warren, but there's no pressure. It's strange, indulging himself for the mere pleasure of it. He's not doing this to make a lover stay, not doing this because someone forced him to do it. Non, he's doing this because he wants to do it, because Warren's comfortable with this, participating in it. And even more importantly, Warren is allowing him to take the lead. It's amazing.
Warren grins, looking down at the mess they've made. Creamy cum already sticks to the bed sheets. "Wow," he moans and kisses Remy. "Could get used to doing this every morning."
"Only in de morning?" Remy quips amused and then returns the kiss, slowly and passionately, wrapping an arm around Warren's waist, absentmindedly stroking the feathers underneath his fingertips.
"One of us has to clean up here," Warren sighs, feeling terribly relaxed now that most of the sexual tension is gone. Remy looks equally pleased. Okay, maybe this wasn't according to plan, but they both needed the sexual release. "And the other can fix breakfast."
Remy provocatively licks his lips. "You can deal wid de mess here? I'm startin' breakfast."
Before Warren can object, the Cajun jumps out of bed. Remy quickly disappears into the bathroom to clean himself up and then moves downstairs, softly humming to himself.
"Shit!" Warren curses, pretending annoyance. "He's already bossing me around!"
In the kitchen, Remy smiles catching that last remark. "You got no idea de trouble you're in, ange!"

Seated at the breakfast table, they give each other warm looks and every so often their hands touch when reaching for the butter, toast, or coffee. Warren enjoys the little game, but decides that a little payback is in order. Remy completely surprised him earlier this morning and he's still afraid that he's rushing things. He needs to slow down! But it is easier to think rationally now that his erection is no longer tormenting him.
"Don' worry, ange," Remy says, finally calm enough to speak without grinning manically. "I know you're scared to hurt me, mais? I feel safe wid you."
"Remy, I'm just concerned that? I don't want our relationship to be about sex."
"In case you didn' notice," Remy grins wickedly, "if it were 'bout sex we would have jumped each oder dat first night."
Yeah, the manic grin is back and Warren sighs. "Okay, in that case I might be willing to tell you that you've got mail. Last night I noticed that Jean-Luc?" Amused, he watches Remy leave the table in a hurry to pick up the laptop. "You could finish breakfast with me first!" he says, pretending to be hurt by the sudden lack of interest on his lover's part. But he's overjoyed to see the fire in those red eyes when accessing Jean-Luc's message.
Eyes unable to detach from the screen, Remy devours the message. "He wrote back!" In disbelief, he reads the message? Poppa wrote back!!!!

> -----Original Message-----
> From: J.LeBeau@NewOrleans.com
> Sent: Friday 12 January 2000 22:37
> To: WWorthington@Enterprises.com
> Subject: Bonjour petite
Remy,
It's good to hear from you this soon! The house feels empty without you and tante is giving me hell for not keeping you locked up in your room until she arrived. She sends you her love, petite.
> Dearest poppa? we arrived safely. So far I've only seen the inside of the house. Warren is really overly protective, like you are.
Well, we can't help it, petite. You'll have to get used to us being that protective...
> Last night I had a terrible nightmare about? him. Will he ever stop haunting me?
He will. This thief promises you that it will end, Remy. It will.
> Poppa? I feel lost? but I have Warren and he's really supportive. Held me through the night and even called me love!
That's good to hear, son. You need someone close... Wish it had been me. Failed you again, my son. Mais, I am certain that Warren loves you and together the two of you will find a way to work through this.
> This morning we even kissed? after I freaked out. Warren went to get some groceries and I thought he had left me again. I was so stupid?
Non, not stupid, Remy! After all you've been through it's a very normal reaction. You need time to accept that Warren's there to stay.
> But? he still doesn't like touching me, poppa. I think it's the scars. Warren probably thinks about what the Antiquary did when touching me? It's strange though.
I doubt your observation is correct, Remy. The scars are only ugly in your mind, not his. And oui, maybe Warren sometimes thinks about the Antiquary... God help me, but so do I. I think about the pain he inflicted on you, but Warren won't blame you for those scars. Give Warren a little time to get used to being in love with a man, being in love with you, my son.
> I don't understand this. He hasn't even addressed having sex. Is that because he hates the scars? Why else? I know that you tried to explain to me that sex and love are two different things, but I still don't get it.
Give yourself time to understand, Remy. I approve of the fact that he's maintaining this distance. You always wanted to have sex for the wrong reasons, petite. Work on the relationship first...
> Sorry to bother you about this, poppa,
You won't ever bother me, Remy. You can always talk to me, always!
> but you're the only one who understands. I know that you're too busy to answer this message? That's okay. I just want you to know that I love you and am thinking about you.
I made time to answer this message and I'm going to make time to answer ALL your messages, Remy. Give this old thief a chance to make it up to you for past mistakes. Please don't take too long before replying, my son.
> Your son, Remy.
Your père, Jean-Luc.

The message leaves him stunned. Poppa replied? He made time to answer his message? That has never happened before! Why now? What changed? What's Jean-Luc not telling him?
"Rem? Is it bad news?" Warren gets to his feet and sits on his heels next to him. "You're scaring me here?" But as Remy's eyes finally meet his, they are filled with laughter and relief.
"Can' believe dis," Remy whispers. Seeing disbelief in Warren's eyes he feels the need to explain. "Guild always comes first. Takes up all his time?"
"Maybe that changed? I take it then that it's good news?" Warren intertwines the fingers of their left hands and smiles warmly. "Are you going to write him back?"
"Oui, later? Need to think 'bout some stuff first? Poppa advised me not to? seduce you," and he wiggles an eyebrow, "into havin' sex. 'Bout what happened earlier?" he's about to apologize when Warren shakes his head.
"That was hot, Remy and it was sweet. But it was sweet because you wanted to do that. We were both comfortable with taking that step, not pushing the other."
"Hot?" Remy quips amused. "Wonder what you'll say when I tell you 'bout my fantasy."
"Fantasy?" Warren smiles warmly.
"Oui, and it involves a lot of chocolate and maybe even whipped cream!"
"Crazy Cajun!" Warren exclaims and brushes his lips. "You better take a shower. I also need to check on your wound. Maybe we can go for a short walk later?"
"Would love dat," Remy agrees and lets his hair fall in front of his face to hide his wicked grin. "Mais first I'm goin' to shower? you made a mess of me dis mornin'!"
Warren blushes, knowing it's the reaction Remy's aiming for. "Bad Cajun," he counters, but the reply lacks real conviction. "I'll do the dishes and after you're done in the bathroom, I am going to take a shower as well!"
"Or come and take dat shower wid me?" Remy offers quickly, giving Warren his most enchanting smile. He's already forgotten about his promise not to seduce his new lover?
"Bad Cajun!" Warren quips again and slaps Remy's butt as his lover gets to his feet. "Don't tempt me! It's bad enough you got your wicked way with me this morning!"
"You didn' even touch me," Remy complains, but suddenly he realizes what's Warren's doing. Taking it one step at a time. The scars don't disgust him. Warren wants to make love to him, but is more than willing to prove to him that it's not the most important thing in a relationship. Maybe, he should stop pushing Warren.
//Non, too much fun!// And maybe, in the back of his mind he wants Warren to prove he's for real first. With a smile, he leaves the kitchen and heads upstairs for the bathroom.
"And I'm stuck with cleaning up after him again!" Warren chuckles and shakes his head, only now realizing he's in trouble? big trouble!

Moscow
"Ya sure this is the right place?" Logan studies the deserted building. It still possesses the former glory of old Russia.
"He's here," Jean-Luc assures him. The hair at the back of his neck stands rigid. "We have to be careful when going inside. Remember what I told you. De Antiquary can create illusions, which are hard to tell from de real thing. Stay close."
Logan eyes him questioningly. "What? Ya think I need a babysitter? Have been doin' this for decades!"
"So have I!" Jean-Luc counters and catches the approval in Logan's eyes. "Dis time, you listen to me!"
A low growl escapes Logan's throat. "Only this time? and there will be payback in the bedroom later."
"Get your mind out of de gutter, cher!" Jean-Luc shakes his head and drops to his knees to pick the lock.
"Don't bother." Logan releases one claw and sticks it into the lock, then slices right through it.
Annoyed, Jean-Luc looks up. "Finesse, mon ami! You lack finesse!"
"Brute force works too." Logan shrugs his shoulders and pushes the door ajar. "Whadda ya think, super brain. Is it safe to go inside?"
"Super brain?" Jean-Luc repeats. "Is dat all you can come up with?"
"Lemme think 'bout it," Logan replies softly and then sets a first step inside. "No real scents?" He doesn't like this one bit and the rest of his claws pop out, ready for battle.
"Logan," Jean-Luc admonishes him and follows his lover inside. The hall is empty. "Dat way," his instincts tell him.
"'Kay." Logan is trying hard to pick up on anything that can tell him what's going on. "I don't like this?"
"Warned you." Jean-Luc looks up. The glass-stained windows create an eerie red reflection on the wall and suddenly a shadow flees the room. "He knows we're here." A long time ago, Stephen Strange taught him how to distinguish magic from old tricks. This involves magic, real magic. Powerful magic.
Unexpectedly, two man-sized lions jump forward, paws spread, ready to break their necks.
"They ain' real, bub," Logan says unimpressed. "They don't have a smell."
"Illusions," Jean-Luc quickly confirms. "He's slipping." Now that they've seen through the magic trick, the lions disappear into thin air. "I want to talk to you, Antiquary."
Logan wants to berate the man for betraying their location, but a sharp voice stops him in his tracks.
"Why? You banished me a long time ago. What do you want, Jean-Luc LeBeau?"
A figure, clad in blue-green robes appears on top of the flight of stairs, face hidden behind a hood. Logan tries to catch the man's scent, to store it in his memory, but is shocked to find none. Another illusion?
"You owe me some answers! You set me up that night 24 years ago! Why did you order me to steal a baby?" Although he's determined not to lose control, he's on the brink of crumbling now that he finally faces the man who hurt his son that badly.
Logan puts a calming hand on his shoulder. "Thought ya wanted to talk to him?"
"Why Remy?" Jean-Luc questions in a calmer tone, but it's a tone that could cut through steel.
"You fool! You don't know the true extent of his powers!" the Antiquary whispers venomously.
"Ya fear him?" Logan realizes. "Ya were 'fraid he might become too strong to control, so ya wanted to break him as a child. Ya bastard!" He's dying to bury his claws in the Antiquary's chest. Maybe even twist them around a little to add to the man's agony.
"Makes no sense," Jean-Luc remarks absentmindedly. "If you had stayed away from Remy, he would never have known you existed."
"You don't know about the prophecy, thief and you don't need to know!"
"What prophecy?" Jean-Luc can't believe his ears. "I'm going up dere," he announces and finds that Logan is behind him every step of the way. Only a few feet separate him from the Antiquary now. "What prophecy? I demand you?"
"You're not in the position to demand anything, thief!" The Antiquary moves back. "I suggest you stop threatening me, or I might punish the devil's child instead."
"Don't ya dare touch him ever 'gain!" Logan hisses in obvious disgust. "Leave the kid outta this!"
"How can I?" the Antiquary quips. "Jean-Luc LeBeau started this. Leave me in peace or your son," and he spits the word in disgust, "will pay for your stupidity!"
"Bastard?" Jean-Luc hisses and no longer cares about the consequences. He has kept this anger bottled up for much too long and it needs a way out. So he lunges forward to clasp his hands around the Antiquary's throat.
Logan tries to stop him, pull him back, but is too late. An all- consuming darkness swallows them and they start falling? falling? falling into nothingness.

Westchester
//Scott? Can we talk?// Charles Xavier, leader of the X-Men is worried. Scott has been acting oddly lately, spending too much time in the danger room and fleeing the presence of the others. Only Jean is allowed close. This is not good.
"Of course, professor," Scott whispers resigned as he opens the door. This is one conversation he can't run away from.
As the chair hovers into the room, Scott returns to the bed and sits down. "Just wanted to get some sleep, sir," he apologizes. "Didn't sleep that well last night."
"Talk to me," Charles urges him on, slightly startled by Scott's appearance. Dark circles are starting to show from underneath ruby glasses. "Why can't you sleep?"
Absentmindedly, Scott picks up the package he still hasn't opened and plays around with it to distract himself. "It's Gambit, Antarctica, Rogue leaving him there. This isn't right, sir."
"I see." Charles nods his head. "You think you failed Gambit."
"I did!" Scott exclaims. "I did. I should have been there too. Should have returned to Antarctica earlier. I left a team-mate out there to die. I'm team-leader. I am responsible for their safety each time we leave on a mission!"
"You're only human," Charles sighs as he rests a hand on Scott's shoulder. "Humans make mistakes. Humans aren't perfect. I make mistakes, you make them and we will make a lot more before we die."
Scott nods his head. "I know that, sir, but I can't help it. I feel guilty." He tosses the package onto the bed and starts pacing the room, every so often peeking at Charles' eyes. "I want to organize a memorial service. That will give us a chance to say good-bye. Jean misses him and I got this feeling there are more who would like to pay their last respects to the Cajun."
Charles forces himself to smile. "A memorial service sounds good. It will give you and the rest of the team the closure you need." //And me too.// God, he never realized Scott felt this deeply about Antarctica! But Scott isn't the only one blaming himself for Gambit's death.
Last night, Hank and he talked for hours. Hank is suffering from guilt too. The scientist is struggling with the same problem; why didn't they go back to get Remy?
"What are we going to do about Rogue?" Scott asks in a firm tone.
Charles realizes Scott's intentions. "You can't be suggesting a trial!"
"Why not?" Scott's jaw is set. "I want to know what happened after the others left and she isn't going to tell us. I informed you of how she reacted to Warren's questions. She's keeping her secrets, like always."
"No trial," Charles says determinedly. "But I will talk to her privately."
"And Joseph?" Scott sighs deeply. "They have been arguing since Warren left."
"Joseph will make his own decisions," Charles points out to his student. "Now, why don't you join us for dinner?" He wants Scott to socialize, to stop brooding. "Jean and Bobby made dinner."
"I'm bad company," Scott sighs resigned. "Just give me a sec to change my clothes, shave and clean up. Will meet you downstairs in a few minutes."
"Excellent!" Charles says pleased. Just before he turns to leave the room, he addresses Scott one more time. "The memorial service? we should do that this week. It's important that we can say good-bye."
"And Rogue? I'm not sure I want her there," Scott grumbles darkly.
"She's part of this team, Scott. They were lovers once. You can't leave her out."
Scott gives in. "Just don't let her create a scene? I'm not sure how I will react."
"You feel betrayed," Charles realizes suddenly. "Betrayed by Rogue."
"Yes, sir. I thought I could depend on her. Thought she put the team first, not her personal feelings? I should have known."
"Back to the guilt issue," Charles remarks disapprovingly. "Get cleaned up and join us for dinner," he orders and closes the door behind him. Maybe this affected Scott more than he thought.
Scott shakes his head. Dinner with the rest of the team? he wants to be alone. Wants to think about his mistakes, about the friends, loved ones and team-mates he lost.
Remy LeBeau? true, they weren't the best of friends, but they got along just fine. He even admired the thief's skills, though he would never admit that aloud. Those skills saved their butts a number of times and now there's an empty chair at the table. No one to play cards with? no one to harass at the pool table?
Part of him insists that he's overreacting, that this isn't like him, but maybe this is the final straw. Maybe he has reached his breaking point after so many deaths. This death is his fault.
His fingers once more locate the package and after playing with it for several moments, he absentmindedly opens it.

 

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ireland
"It's strange?" Remy remarks, as he examines the deck of cards in his hands. Warren suggested playing cards until the rain would stop. Then they would go for a walk. They've been playing for two hours now.
"I used to?" Remy searches for the right word, "charge and t'row dem?" Bit by bit his memories are coming back. But he's still missing several memories concerning the trial.
"Yes, you're pretty good at using them," Warren confirms and then looks worried at the remainders of Eric The Red's shackles. They have to address that trial and his part in it soon. He has decided that he won't wait for the memories to return and scare Remy. He's only waiting for the right moment to tell him.
"You now owe me?" Remy studies the notes he made. "2.600.768 American dollars." A wicked grin graces his face as he announces the amount. "You need more practise."
"You cheated," Warren counters amused, but decides to try and address a more serious matter. "When are you going to take the cuffs off?" Slowly, he pushes his chair closer to Remy's. Straddling it, he claims his lover's hands and caresses the skin underneath the shackles, which feels a little tender. "Can't be comfortable."
Determinedly, Remy shakes his head. "Ain' goin' to take dem off."
Warren raises a surprised eyebrow. "Care to explain that to me, Rem?" His fingers rub Remy's hands, kneading the tense muscles.
"Charm," Remy whispers the word, hoping it offers sufficient explanation.
Warren moves a little closer and with one hand he cups Remy's chin in his palm, raising it. "Make me understand."
Unable to look away from those entrancing blue eyes, Remy takes a deep breath. "What did poppa tell you 'bout de charm?" He's no fool, knowing darn well they discussed it.
Carefully, Warren chooses his words, deciding not to mention the brainwashing the Antiquary performed, making a child believe the charm was responsible for being raped. Instead, he says, "Told me that you used it to comfort your tante after one of her cousins died. That the air was filled with the fragrance of flowers and the house with love. Now, why are you afraid of that power?"
"Didn' he tell you 'bout? de Antiquary and what de charm made him do?" Mon Dieu, he doesn't want to explain this all over again. "You know? de nightmares."
"Remy," Warren takes a deep breath and raises one of Remy's hands so his lips can tenderly brush it. "The Antiquary didn't? hurt you because of the charm," Warren says resolved, holding onto Remy's gaze. The Cajun devours every word. "He abused you because he wanted to break your spirit. Think about it. His actions made you so afraid of this mutant power you possess that you're terrified of ever using it!" Hopefully, he's getting through.
"I can' believe dat," Remy mumbles confused, eyes briefly avoiding his lover's.
"Rem, who came up with the name charm power?" He's determined to find a way to make Remy understand. "Was it the Antiquary?"
"Oui, said dat I was de devil's child and dat de charm seduces people," he chokes out. "I tried so hard to keep it 'side, not to let it slip, mais dere were times when it did."
Warren realizes that convincing Remy to let go will be hard, but he has to try. "So you learned to put up walls, defences to keep it inside?"
"Only slipped dat once wid tante? didn' care 'bout de consequences, just wanted to make her feel better." Remy's head slumps forward and he shivers as warm fingers gently caress his face.
"Are you scared that you'll seduce me, make me hurt you, when you take them off? Is that it?" Warren ventures. At the same time his lips brush the palm of his lover's hand.
"Oui," Remy admits, finally losing his composure and starts raving. "I don' remember? you see, I don' remember how I built dose walls, don' remember how to keep it 'side, will hurt you, will hurt me? it's safer dis way!"
"Rem?" Warren says soothingly and pulls him into an embrace. Remy doesn't pull away and he tightens the hold. "I can never hurt you? I love you, remember?" As Remy doesn't respond he continues. "So, all this time that you lived at the mansion, you kept this a secret?"
"Oui, couldn' let anyone find out." Remy rests his head on Warren's shoulder and snuggles up to him, wrapping his own arms around his lover's frame.
"Remy, I'm sorry, but I've got to ask this," Warren whispers nervously, bracing himself for Remy's reaction. "Do you remember Rogue?" It's a subject he dreads and tried to avoid, but he doesn't want Remy in hysterics when he remembers her face during a nightmare.
"Rogue?" Remy lifts his head and locks eyes with Warren. A memory flashes trough his mind. "Beautiful? mais wid cold eyes? White hair??"
"Yes, that's Rogue," Warren refuses to let him retreat, holding him tight. "Tell me what you remember about her."
Another memory surfaces. "I'm? in love wid her?" he says and his brow grows knitted. "She?" Then his voice falters. He cocks his head and shivers violently. "She doesn' want me?"
"What are you remembering?" Warren pulls him onto his lap; ignoring the uncomfortable position they're in. Remy buries his face against his chest and Warren listens to the suddenly ragged breathing. "It's okay, Rem. You're safe and I love you."
"I'm wearing shackles? like now?" Remy explains, unable to walk away from this shattering nightmarish memory. "We're locked up? She's in my arms and? Mon Dieu? de trial? dis is before de trial started?"
"What happened?" Warren says patiently. Following his instincts he starts to rock Remy slightly, having seen Jean-Luc do the same thing when Remy was upset. He kisses the auburn hair and rests his cheek on Remy's head, which is now tucked safely under his chin.
"Our powers are gone," Remy remembers, tears building in his eyes, holding onto Warren for all the support he needs. "I asked her to make love wid me? would be our only chance? You got no idea how long it took me to work up dat much courage to ask her?" He flinches with remembered pain. There are too many memories, too many feelings, tangled together? a mess. He messed up? again.
Warren grits his teeth, trying hard to control the sudden jealously he's feeling. He's jealous of Rogue who doesn't deserve such a generous offer. Did she ever realize how special Remy is? How much that particular offer meant? Remy's next words break his heart.
"She refused? said she didn' want to have sex in captivity. Dat we would find a different way?" Remy can no longer contain the tears and they flow freely over his face. "She didn' want me in dat way? why?" Tear-filled eyes lift and find Warren's. "You're angry?" he suddenly realizes, sensing the rage locked up in those blue eyes. Maybe confiding in Warren was a mistake. This isn't stuff one should share with a new lover.
Warren forces himself to calm down. She refused? Part of him feels relieved. "You never had sex with her?"
"Non, never. Why is dat important?" Remy pushes himself away from the confining embrace.
"It's stupid," Warren admits and brushes Remy's brow with his lips. "I just feel that she isn't good enough for you. I'm? glad you didn't sleep with her."
Truly perplexed at this point, Remy can only stare at him. "What are you talking' 'bout? She loved me?" But that last statement lacks conviction. There's something else clawing at his mind, another memory.
His voice shakes with pain. "After de trial, after everyone left? left? left? she left me? left me? left?" he keeps repeating the word, entranced and hurt.
Warren nods his head. "She did. She left you there to die." Calmly, he waits for that truth to settle in. "She told us you died."
Remy remains quiet. "She left me? Why?" Why would she do that? She loved him, didn't she?
"You will have to ask her that when we return to the mansion," Warren says determinedly.
Remy tries to pull back, scramble to his feet, but Warren doesn't release his hold. He's trapped. "Am not goin' back dere."
"Not now, Rem, later. Once you're healed we're going to confront her." Warren strokes his lover's back in long, comforting strokes. "For your own sake, you will have to face her, confront her about what happened and I will be there with you every step of the way," he promises passionately.
"Remy?" Worried, Warren cocks his head to catch Remy's glance. The red on black eyes are full of emotion. "Talk to me, love." He can hardly imagine the pain Remy's going through. "I'm here. You don't have to face this alone. What are you feeling?"
"Not'in'," Remy says in an emotionless tone. She left him, left him there to die! "Just proves it?"
"Proves what?" Apprehensively, Warren traces the outline of Remy's full lips. "Proves what, love?"
Stubbornly, Remy remains quiet.
"Proves what!" Warren pushes on in a firmer tone.
"I'm a traitor and don' deserve love? she knew dat, knew I killed de Warlocks, destroyed your wings and?"
Warren's first impulse is to react in anger! Damn! They were doing so well, making progress, finally trusting each other and now? "Stop it, Rem! Did you already forget the things I told you last night?"
Remy realizes that he has to get away from him. Warren can't want him, a loser and a traitor. Warren will leave him, like Rogue did and he isn't sure he can survive losing this man, his angel, again.
"Stay put, Cajun and listen to me!" Warren pulls him back when he tries to slip away. "Sit and listen!"
Remy flinches slightly at that tone. Here it comes, the famous words he heard too many times. 'Made a mistake? you'll find someone else? I'm not in love with you, man? enjoyed the ride? well, this is good-bye?' Warren is dumping him. "Mebbe I should just leave." But where can he go? New Orleans? Assassins are already waiting for him to show up again.
"Rem," Warren says in a remarkable soft tone, finally realizing what terrible conclusion Remy's reached. "You are no traitor. You didn't kill the Morlocks. You are not to blame for the loss of my wings. Rogue played you. Played with you like a cat plays with a mouse before going in for the kill. Please, Rem, look at me."
Remy obeys mechanically, hardly hearing Warren's voice. //Dis was too good to be true. Should have known dat I don' get dat lucky?// But as he finally meets Warren's eyes, he startles. There's no loathing, hate or condemnation in those eyes. Mon Dieu, they are sparkling with love!
"Rogue doesn't deserve your love. She betrayed you. I love you, Remy. I'll always be there for you. You have no idea what I feel for you. At first I hated being attracted to a man? Listen!" he yelps as Remy struggles to free himself again. "Listen," he repeats much calmer. "Now I can't envision living without you. I love you, Remy LeBeau."
His eyes grow big at that admission. Oui, Warren declared his love several times, but? "You ain' dumping me?" he asks confused.
"Rogue messed you up pretty bad, love. You thought she loved you. My guess is she didn't. Rem, think about it! She can't touch bare skin. That night in the citadel, before the trial, she could touch you. Could make love to you and she passed it up? Damn, if that had been me I would have made love to you until they dragged me away."
Warren sighs relieved. Remy's big eyes mirror disbelief and hope, a stunning amount of hope. "I'd even use those shackles or a Genoshan collar if that meant making love to you, Rem." Warren pants slightly after this passionate admission. Damn, he didn't realize himself how much he loves the Cajun until just now, how much he wants to make love to this man.
"Tell me somet'in'?" Remy stopped struggling several moments ago and is now holding on tightly. "Do you really love me?"
"Oh yes," Warren quips and places a teasing kiss on the tip of his lover's nose.
"When did you realize dat?" Remy smiles weakly. Suddenly, Rogue isn't that important any more. Her betrayal stings, but Warren's love acts like a warm blanket, healing the frostbite she left behind.
"When?" Warren grins, actually thinking this over. "I guess I realized I loved you when you took that knife, which was meant for me. When you went down." Warren's voice trembles with remembered fear. "I was so afraid of losing you, Rem. When your dad picked us up I refused to let him hold you. Ticked him off?" Pleased, he notices that Remy's smile is getting warmer; his eyes no longer betray panic.
"Oui, must have ticked poppa off," Remy repeats entranced. "Why did you leave me?"
"I wasn't ready to accept the truth yet. Hey, I've never been in love with a man before and certainly not with a crazy Cajun. I needed time to get to terms with it. Was the hardest thing I ever did, leaving you, but I couldn't stay."
"Why did you come back?" The questions easily roll of Remy's lips. He's heard the answers before, but he needs to hear them again.
"As I said before, Bobby kicked my ass and when I saw Rogue?"
"You defended me," Remy suddenly remembers.
"She maintained that you had been dead when she'd left you. I was determined to uncover her lies. She didn't like that."
Remy sighs deeply. "She doesn' love me, does she?"
"I'm afraid not, Rem." Warren's fingers trail up his lover's back, until they reach the back of his neck where they start a gentle massage. "She's taken Joseph as her new lover," he whispers, dreading Remy's reaction. But the Cajun remains limp in his arms.
"Hope dey will be happy."
"How can you say that?" Warren lowers his head so he can look into Remy's eyes.
"Now dat I've got you? she isn' 'lone eider? is good." He feels emotionally drained. "Are you sure you want to be wid me?" he asks hesitantly. He wants to believe in Warren's love so badly!
"Yeah, I want you, Rem? for now and the rest of our lives." Warren smiles and kisses his lover's watered eyes. "Want to make you happy."
"You already do," Remy confesses. "Got to move? side hurts," he whispers and Warren immediately releases him. As he gets to his feet, he notices that the rain has stopped. He has to get out of this house. Suddenly, he's suffocating here. "Can we go for dat walk now?"
Warren gives him a quizzical look. "Rem? Are you okay?"
"Need time to? deal wid dis?" Remy reassures him. Rogue betrayed him? Warren loves him. It's as simple as that.
Warren realizes the emotional turmoil lover is in. "What do you think, Rem? We'll walk up to that lake we saw yesterday and I'll fly you back?" The stunning smile that greets him baffles him. "I take it that's a yes?"
"Just let me get my coat?" Remy's already moving, when two strong arms fold around his waist. Smiling, he looks over his shoulder. "Ange?"
"Don't you ever forget how much I love you, Rem," he says as he nuzzles the Cajun's skin.
Another tear escapes his eye, but this time, bliss causes it and not pain. "Je t'aime, Warren," he declares in turn, promising himself he will try and make this man happy. He wants this to work and no one is going to stand between them!
"Don't forget my coat," Warren reminds him and drops onto the chair again. Man, that was one of the hardest things he ever did, talking Remy through that and it still amazes him that he succeeded. "Was really scared I was going to lose him," he admits in a whispering tone. Although this isn't over yet, he now feels a lot more confident about their relationship. "He just needs to hear it a lot?"
"Hear what?" Remy stands in front of him, holding their coats.
Smiling, Warren rises from the chair, looks him in the eyes and says, "I love you." Amused, he watches as a deep blush crawls over Remy's face.
"You say dat all de time," Remy whispers nervously.
"Because I need to get it out, Rem. I feel like I want to scream it at the mountains? maybe I will do that on our way back." He helps Remy slip into the coat and buttons it up. "Is your side still hurting?"
"Was just de awkward position," Remy says softly. "We're really goin' to fly back?"
"Yeah," Warren confirms and takes his right hand. "C'mon, or it will start raining again before we can get back."
Remy allows Warren to pull him along, equally excited of going outside.

"It's beautiful up here," Warren says and looks at Remy, who's sitting next to him on a large rock. It took them longer than expected to get here and it has grown dark around them. A full moon illuminates the sky.
"Oui, it is," Remy agrees and can't help noticing that their fingers are still twined. "You know? I'm startin' to believe it."
"What?"
"Dat you? you know, dat you love me," Remy says awkwardly, lowering his eyes. "Took me years to believe tante and poppa."
"And I did it in weeks?" Warren smiles warmly. "Want to kiss you," he admits. "Can I?"
"Sure." Remy leans in closer and kisses his lover's lips, surprised at how willingly Warren parts his teeth to let his tongue slide inside. Their tongues engage in a lazy duel and Warren pulls him closer. Remy looks up questioningly. "Why do you always ask if you can kiss me?" This really puzzles him.
This time, Warren smiles nervously. "Want your permission, Remy. I don't want you to feel pressured into doing something you're not comfortable with."
"I kinda understand dat we need to take dis slow." He sees the pleased expression on Warren's face. "You're probably right 'bout dat."
"And how did you reach this insight?" Warren remarks teasingly, dropping tiny kisses on the back of Remy's hand. All his doubts have disappeared. His hesitance to touch another man has vanished. This is right. This was meant to be.
Remy licks his lips. Seems like this an evening for revelations. "De t'ings he? de Antiquary did to me are very close right now. Poppa helped me work t'rough dem before, mais now it feels like dey happened only weeks ago? You're right. I need time to remember dat I dealt wid dem. How I dealt wid dem, mais?" and Remy gives him a warning look, "Don' treat me like?"
"Like what?" However, Warren is getting the picture.
"Like I'm an invalid?." Remy whispers at last, at a loss for the right words, "Like I'm made of precious china? I won' break."
"I get the message," Warren says, hardly able to hide his approval. Remy's growing stronger, demanding he stops protecting him, but how can he? He wants to keep him safe, loves him too much to take changes.
"Can we fly back now?" Remy slowly gets to his feet and this time, he pulls Warren along and gets behind him. He wraps his arms around the waist, waiting for his love to spread his wings. "I'm tired."
//And he wants me to stop pampering him!// Warren shakes his head. Remy needs pampering, demands to be spoiled after all he has been through. As he spreads his wings, he draws in a deep breath. "You ready?" he inquires.
"Oui," Remy rests his head against the back of Warren's neck, waiting to feel the wind tangle in his hair when they both register a wincing growl. "What's dat?"
"Sounds like an animal in pain," Warren cocks his head. "It's coming from over there. Want to check it out?"
"Mebbe we can help," Remy replies and reluctantly releases his lover. Fingers still twined they concentrate on the soft, pain-filled grows. "Dog?" Remy ventures as they get closer. A greyish shape is curled up next to a large rock.
"Big dog," Warren says concerned. His sharp eyes scan the form. "Uh, Rem? It's a wolf? and he's injured. I see blood." A wolf? He didn't even know that there are wolves running free in Ireland!
"Blood?" Remy approaches slowly, giving the wolf time to register his presence. Warren's walking next to him, obviously reluctant to go any further.
Sharp teeth flash in the moonlight and the growls deepen in warning.
"Rem? I don't think he wants us to get any closer." Warren stops in his tracks, as the wolf's eyes flash dangerously. "You know that wounded animals are dangerous animals?"
"He needs help," Remy points out. "We can' leave him here." His eyes now make out the blood, but they also see the way his right front leg is twisted. "We've got to help."
"Okay," Warren gives in eventually and sneaks closer. "Now, behave, boy," He says, addressing the wolf. "We just want to help." Slowly, he extends one hand, trying to examine the seriousness of the injury.
The wolf lunges forward, almost taking off his hand. Warren feels Remy's arm around him, pulling him back. "Thanks," he whispers and stares at his fingers, still in place. "He won't let us near." Then, he notices the way Remy is staring at the animal. Yes, he understands why Remy has to help. Someone abandoned him too when he needed help. Suddenly, an idea forms in his mind.
"Remy? Rem!" he whispers, recognizing the lost expression in his lover's eyes.
"Oui?"
"Think you can work your magic on him, like you did with your tante?" Warren studies him closely, seeing the shocked expression in his red on black eyes. "You know, take off the shackles and reach out to calm him? I think you can do that."
"Cher? I can'," Remy objects in a pained tone. "Don' know how to control it. Charm will break free."
"Let's agree on not calling it that any longer," Warren sits on his heels, grateful that the wolf isn't moving to attack them. "Let's call it magic. Your magic."
"You're mad, cher," Remy shivers, speaking the words. Something the Antiquary once said, bounces back into his mind. 'Your magic will never grow strong. Will never revel mine!' Warren can't be serious, can't ask this of him!
"Please do it, Rem. I'm here to protect you if things go wrong." Warren gently squeezes Remy's fingers. "You've got to trust me."
"If I take dem off, you will? you will?"
"I won't sexually assault you, love. The Antiquary lied. You've got to put your trust in me, in us." But Remy's obviously not yet convinced so he adds his trump. "You want to help the wolf, don't you? He won't allow us close."
"You don't play fair, cher."
"Never said I did." Warren watches his inner turmoil, reflected in those alien eyes.
Remy's head is spinning. Warren is asking him to take the shackles off! That would destroy everything they achieved this far! Warren will change into the Antiquary, unable to control his lust because of the charm? but a tiny voice berates him, telling him Warren won't ever hurt him.
"I trust you," he whispers eventually and he can't believe he's doing this as he extends his hands. "Take dem off."
Warren nods his head, touched by his love's trust in him. He fumbles briefly, then bends the shackles and they slip off the wrists.
Remy stares at them and frantically picks them up, putting them in his pockets. He wants them close in case Warren? //Please mon Dieu, let him be strong enough to resist de charm.// He can feel it all around him, as he desperately tries to remember how to build his shields, but that knowledge is gone.
Surprised, Warren stares at him. Remy's changed. Something about him changed the moment he took off those shackles. //That hair? it's like silk? the skin, like ivory, still pale from the lack for sunlight and those eyes? // Suddenly, he grows aware of the heavy flowery fragrance around them. It takes him a moment to identify the fragrance. Lilacs.
He's forgotten about the wolf, eyes focused on his lover and he tries to phrase what he's feeling, knowing it's important to Remy. "You're beautiful, love."
Remy cringes, this is what he's been afraid of all along.
"No, don't," Warren admonishes him, reclaiming his hand. "I don't feel the urge to jump you, Rem. It's just? you look?surreal? like an angel."
The words unleash something inside him. "You don'?"
"No, I don't." Warren smiles. "The Antiquary lied."
Remy releases the breath he has been holding. Warren's reaction is not what he expected. What did he expect? Warren jumping and taking him right here? A warm hand caresses his face and hesitantly he leans into it.
"You smell of lilacs, Rem and?" Warren smiles and places one gentle kiss on his lover's lips. "The wolf stopped growling."
Surprised, Remy looks at the wounded canine. It's true. "You t'ink I can?."
"Talk to him, make him feel at ease. We'll take him home and tomorrow morning we'll take him to the vet? who will have a stroke seeing his patient." Fascinated, Warren devours every move his lover makes.
Hesitantly, Remy walks towards the wolf. "Goin' to help you, mon ami. We won' hurt you," and he keeps repeating the words. Dazed, the wolf looks up at him, whimpers and then tries to rest his head between his paws.
"That's it, Rem? Can you pick him up?" Warren takes a step closer too, just in case Remy needs help.
Remy lowers himself onto his heels and extends his hand so the wolf can memorize his scent. "You see, mon ami? We're here to help." As he touches the front leg another whimper escapes the animal. "Ange? I t'ink he walked into a trap."
"Here." Warren uncovers a clean handkerchief and hands it to his lover. "Wrap that around his paw. Looks like he's been laying here for quite some time. He needs food and water."
Remy tries hard to be gentle when wrapping the cloth around the injured leg. Unexpectedly, the wolf raises his head and his yellow eyes fix on him. He forces himself not to back away. The wolf tries to get to his feet and surprisingly enough he manages and staggers towards Remy.
Warren can hardly believe what he's seeing, but a big smile surfaces on his face when the wolf rests his head on Remy's knee, looking up pleadingly. Whatever this 'charm', no 'magic' is, it's powerful.
"He likes me," Remy whispers in surprise, manoeuvring his hands underneath the body. It takes all his strength to lift the wolf, but he succeeds. "He just told me."
Warren nods his head. "I knew you could do it. Now, let's get him back to the house. Do you think he will let me carry him? You should be careful, considering your side?"
"Wolf's 'kay wid dat." He can't help it. His eyes are swimming.
Warren quickly takes hold of the wolf, which isn't that heavy. "Probably couldn't catch a prey with that leg," he mutters.
"Ange? help me?"
"What's wrong, love?"
"I can feel him," Remy lifts his hand and touches his brow. "I can feel him here."
Warren's not surprised. He even expected something like this. "Rem? We need to get back to the house. Get behind me and hold on!" he instructs. "We will discuss this when we get home, please, love." The frantic expression in Remy's eyes worries him.
As the Cajun doesn't move, he realizes he has to change tactics. He grins briefly, momentarily grateful Bets is a telepath who taught him a couple of things. "Can you feel me too? In your mind?"
Remy's eyes almost pop out of their sockets when he realizes he does. "Cher," he stutters taken aback, feeling the concern, feeling the love wash over him. It draws him closer like a magnet.
"That's it, now hold on like you did last night." Relieved, Warren feels Remy's arms fold around his waist. "This will only take a few minutes." He looks over his shoulders and into Remy's dilated pupils. "Just concentrate on me, Rem. Focus on my thoughts?"
Reassuring thoughts drift into his mind, calming him down. "I'm? holdin' on," he whispers, pressing himself into Warren's body as they take off. Something warm covers his mind, helping him relax. "Are you doin' dis?"
"Yes, something I learned during training?." Warren explains, conveniently forgetting to mention the fact that it was Bets who taught him to center his thoughts. "Hold on, Rem?" The wolf in his arms is still, just as still as the man holding onto him and he concentrates on flying, getting them home safely.

 

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