Title: Hold on to my Heart
Author: Morgana (morganalebeau@yahoo.com)
Website: http://www.oocities.org/morganalebeau/
Rating: NC-17
Pairing / Main characters: Gambit/Angel
Series/Sequel: complete
Summary: When Jean-Luc dies unexpectedly, Warren finds himself comforting Remy.
Disclaimer: Gambit and X-Men is (c)copyright of Marvel Comics. No copyright infringement is intended.
Date: June 2002
_________________________________________________
Hold on to my Heart
By Morgana
Chapter One
Warren enjoyed spending some quiet moments at the mansion. Most X-Men were gone for the Christmas holidays. Jubes and Logan had decided on a nice trip into the snow covered mountains, Scott had taken Jean to a B&B to get her away from the mansion, and Hank and Bobby were raiding stores on a Twinkie run. I get the feeling we will be eating Twinkies on Christmas Eve... Which was only one day away. Even the professor had taken a break, not specifying his destination to anyone but Scott in case they needed to contact him.
The only downer was Gambit's presence. The Cajun had stayed at the boathouse for several weeks, but the central heating had broken down, forcing him to move back to the mansion. Luckily, his room was at the far end of the corridor and the Cajun didn't venture out much. They had only met one time, in the kitchen, when Gambit had been fixing himself something to eat. Warren had left the kitchen at once, waiting for Gambit to leave so that he could make himself some sandwiches.
"Let's see, what am I going to do today? I’ve got all the peace and quiet I ever wished for!" Collapsing on the couch in the living room, he switched on the television, channel surfing for a while. Suddenly, his heart contracted. Bets... Betsy and he had broken up two weeks before. They had grown apart; he simply couldn't handle her shadow walking. She had changed after walking in the shadows. To be perfectly honest, she creeped him out.
It was a good thing that Rogue and Betsy had decided to go on a shopping trip, and this time he wasn't paying! His credit cards were safely in his wallet. He had almost felt sorry for Joseph, who had followed Rogue obediently; Joseph hadn't looked thrilled at the prospect of spending the next few days in and out of shopping malls.
Bored, he switched off the television and walked over to the window. It was snowing and Bobby would have loved sliding through the white blanket. He suddenly regretted declining Bobby's invitation to accompany them on the Twinkie run. Now he was stuck here all alone. Well, Gambit was here, but the Cajun didn't count as company.
In an effort to distract himself, he headed for the control room. Everyone had left addresses or phone numbers where he could contact them in case of an emergency, but he was hesitant to do so. After reaching the control room, he sat down behind the console and checked the security cams. Everything seemed quiet. Next, he checked communications.
Gambit is on the phone... Wonder who he's talking to? He was tempted to listen in on the call, but then dismissed the thought. Even Gambit was entitled to some privacy! However, what if he is up to something? Going behind our backs? No, I shouldn't listen in on his call, but what if...? His fingers moved over the control buttons and before he knew it, Remy's voice echoed through the room.
"Ai, Mattie, wish I could be wit' you in N'Arlings right now! Hate bein' banished from home!"
"Remy, Jean-Luc was tryin' to undo your banishment, mais de Assassins didn' wanna hear 'bout it... and now it's too late. I'm so sorry, mon fils... Jean-Luc didn' deserve to die dat way!"
"I miss Poppa 'ready..." A sob escaped Remy.
Warren pushed the button that would cut him out of the call. Poppa? That word sounded familiar. Poppa, that means daddy! Oh my God! His father died! Stunned, Warren stared at the control panel. I shouldn't have listened in! I don't want to know what's going on in his life!
But his father died. Remember how you felt when your father died? You were crushed... And he had had people around him that cared for him. Gambit was alone with his grief. All alone in his room with no one to talk to!
Fuck! Why did I have to hear that? The lights indicated that Remy had hung up and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. What do I do? I needed to talk to someone after dad died... Gambit doesn't have anyone to talk to.
Undecided, he tapped his fingertips on the control panel. Suddenly, he had to decide where he stood concerning Remy LeBeau. He had hated the Cajun at one point. At the trial, he had hated Gambit with all his heart. The hatred had diminished slightly, but he still didn't trust him either. Damn, why am I the only one at the mansion? Why can't Jean be here? Why did Storm have to go back to Africa, to her roots? I don't know what to do!
How do I feel about him? I don't consider him a friend, I don't even trust him as a teammate, but... he’s alone. I know how it feels to be alone. After I lost my wings I was alone... It led me straight to Apocalypse. There’s no way of telling how Remy will react! What if he turns to Sinister? Normally he wouldn't do that, but...
He resolutely got to his feet and walked into the corridor. He couldn't simply turn his back on another human being; regardless what mistakes Gambit had made, the Cajun didn't deserve to be alone in a time like this!
He didn't know how he was going to handle this situation, or what he was going to say or do. Much depended on Gambit's reaction to seeing him, but he was determined to stay close.
A few minutes later, he found himself in front of Gambit's door. He drew in a deep breath and knocked softly. "Gambit? Can I come inside?"
"Go 'way! Don' wanna talk to you!"
Warren released the breath he had been holding. Gambit's tone was venomous, but he also recognized the pain in the Cajun's voice. Damn, how was he going to do this? He couldn't tell Gambit he knew about Jean-Luc! If he did, he would also have to confess up to listening in on that phone call! Somehow, he had to find a way to convince Gambit to talk to him! "Remy? Please open the door."
"Non! Go 'way! Don' make me blast you 'way!"
The rage and sorrow in Remy's voice had reached new heights; it was time he acted now! "I'm coming inside."
"Non! Don' you listen? I want you gone!"
I don't believe that, Remy. Although I told everyone that I wanted to be alone when my father died, I didn't want them to leave. You need someone to talk to, even if it is only me. He placed his hand on the door handle and pushed down, expecting to find the door locked, but to his surprise the door opened at once.
"Remy?" Slowly, he stepped into the darkened room. Remy had switched off all lights and he had trouble finding the Cajun's form in the darkness. However, his sharp eyes adapted to the darkness and showed him Remy kneeling beneath the window.
"Leave me 'lone! I told you to go 'way! I don' want you here!"
Warren took another step closer to the huddled form on the floor. "Remy, what's going on? What are you doing here in the dark?" Remember, you can't tell him you know! Remy didn't react or move so he approached the Cajun slowly. "Did something bad happen?"
"Why would you care?" Remy's tone bordered on panic. "You ignored me since Antarctica! And when you talk to me it's to lemme know you hate me! I know what you t'ink of me! You wish I’d died in Antarctica. Get de hell outta here and leave me 'lone."
Warren sighed deeply. "I guess I deserved that." He had reached Remy and now lowered himself onto his heels. "But I'm here now. Why don't you tell me why you're sitting here in the dark, crying?"
"Dat doesn' concern you!"
Warren almost backed away when burning, red eyes glared at him; they looked eerie in the dark. The hate that shone from them was mixed with grief and loneliness. "Give me a chance, Remy, even if I don't deserve it. Yes, I hated you at one time. It was the reason why I walked out on you during the trial, but... I don't hate you anymore."
"You don' trust me eit'er!" Remy's eyes simmered with emotions.
Warren opted for the truth. "Yeah, that's true. After learning that you worked for Sinister I lost my trust in you, but... that doesn't mean I won't trust you again. It means we need to work on that." Damn, he had never intended to address Antarctica! "I can only offer you the truth, Remy."
Relieved, he realized that Remy's rapid breathing was slowing down and the Cajun raised a hand to wipe away his tears. "Remy, what happened? I've never seen you cry before."
Briefly, it seemed like Remy was going to open up to him, but then the Cajun jumped to his feet, grabbed his collar and pushed him hard against the wall. "Remy, stop it!" Now that his eyes had fully adapted to the darkness, he saw the pain on Remy's face. Determined not to fight Remy off, he allowed the Cajun to hold him in place. "Lashing out at me isn't the answer." Remy bowed his head, but the Cajun tightened the hold.
"Mais I have to lash out at someone..."
"Why, Remy Why do you feel the need to lash out?" Warren held his breath, praying Remy would confide in him. "We're the only two at the mansion right now. Nothing you tell me will leave this room."
"Why?"
Remy raised his head and locked eyes with him. Warren swallowed hard, seeing the tears that slid down the Cajun's face. "Why what?"
"Why are you here? Why are you talkin' to me?" Remy's eyes mirrored his disbelief.
"Because I think you need someone to talk to... and Remy? Let me down? This is getting uncomfortable." Remy's strength surprised him, considering the weight the Cajun had lost since Antarctica. He could probably fight himself a way out of Remy's hold, but he didn't want to start a fight; that was the last thing Remy needed.
Remy suddenly released him and the Cajun stumbled away from him. Warren straightened out his clothes and followed Remy over to the window.
"You didn' fight back..." Remy whispered, obviously puzzled.
"I didn't come here to fight. Remy, I want you to know that I'll listen if you need to talk to someone." He knew when to back off. Remy wasn't ready yet to share his pain. "I'll be in the kitchen, cooking dinner, all right?"
He didn't move, waiting for Remy to acknowledge his offer. Finally, Remy nodded his head. "I don't know what's going on," Warren lied, unable to reveal the truth, "but it's obvious that you need to talk to someone. I'll be waiting." Discretely, he retreated to the doorway, stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind him. All he could do now was wait for Remy to reach a decision.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Warren had set the table, cooked dinner and had given up hope that Remy would accept his offer. Two hours had passed and he was sitting at the kitchen table by himself, poking at a steak that usually made his mouth water, but his appetite had disappeared. He couldn't stop thinking about Remy, who was sitting in his room all alone, trying to deal with the death of a loved one.
Maybe he should go back and confess to eavesdropping? Maybe that would make it easier on Remy to address Jean-Luc's death. But no, he couldn't do that. Remy would think he was spying on the Cajun. Damn, what should he do?
His fork and knife dropped from his fingers and hit the plate with a loud bang. Come on, Remy, come down here and talk to me! I can't drag you from your room! Warren bit his bottom lip, wishing the professor or Jean were here to help.
"Uh..." Remy cleared his throat, hesitantly shuffling into the kitchen. He remained standing near the doorway, seemingly uncertain if he was welcome.
Looking up, Warren released a relieved sigh. Thanks for trusting me enough to come down here... Steadfast, he met Remy's watering eyes. "Hungry?" He pushed a chair toward Remy, hoping the other man would join him at the kitchen table.
"Non, I ain' hungry." Remy gingerly sat down, lowering his eyes.
"Ready to talk to me?" Warren filled a glass with orange juice and pushed it toward Remy.
Remy accepted it and sipped slowly. "I got some bad news today."
Bad news? That's quite an understatement! "What kind of bad news?"
Remy's fingers trembled and the Cajun quickly put down the glass. "I can' talk 'bout it."
"Yes, you can. You want to. That's why you're here." Warren tried to cover some of the emotional distance by capturing Remy's evasive glance.
Remy swallowed convulsively. "My fat'er died..."
Yes! Warren nodded his head, relieved that Remy had finally taken the step to confide in him. "I know how you're feeling right now..."
"Non, you don'!" Remy's tone was edgy. "You don' know a t'ing!"
Warren had expected that outburst and let Remy rave. "My dad died a few years ago and I remember feeling lost and confused. You might not believe me, but I do know how you feel."
"Your dad died...?" Regretting the emotional explosion, Remy hesitantly searched Warren's eyes. "Sorry, didn' know dat."
"It happened years ago, Remy, and I coped with it. But that's why I know how hard this is on you."
"Jean-Luc was much more dan my fat'er..." Remy nervously shifted on the chair. "He saved my life... and was de only one who loved me unconditionally. He accepted me and my faults, all de mistakes I made."
"Shouldn't you be with your family right now?"
"Can' ever go back to N'Arlings," Remy admitted in a choked up tone. "I talked to Mattie on de phone, mais... She can' leave N'Arlings and I can' go dere... I can' be wit' her..."
"And now you're stuck with me," Warren said, trying to take away some of the tension that was eating away at Remy.
Remy managed a weak smile, but then his expression darkened again. "I still don' get it."
"What?"
"Why you're talkin' to me. You always avoid me..." Remy's hand shook as he sipped again. "Why did you come to my room? You never did dat 'fore."
I have to be careful now... Warren shrugged his shoulders. "I was getting bored all alone and I was wondering if you wanted to watch a game. I was looking forward to spending some time alone, but when I got it, I missed having company." Remy's probing look almost made him burst out in sweat. Those eyes searched his soul. Would they uncover his white lies?
Remy's shoulders suddenly slumped forward. "T'ought you had some hidden motives."
"You thought I was playing with you?" Ouch, that hurt! Be honest, he chided himself, you don't trust him, you don't consider him a friend, and he knows that! It's understandable he'd think that! "No, I'm serious, Remy. I want to help. Why don't you tell me what your father was like?"
A weak smile reappeared on Remy's face. "Jean-Luc was a good man. He was a t'ief, taught me everyt'in' he knew and he even loved my freak eyes."
Warren wanted to say something, but bite back his comment. He wanted to let Remy finish first.
"I never t'ought he'd die..." Remy suddenly seemed uneasy. "I ain' sayin' he was immortal or a mutant, mais... I expected him to live a lot longer."
Warren encouragingly nodded his head. "Go on."
"I loved him. He... he was de only one I could count on to be dere for me... Mon Dieu, why am I tellin' you dis?" Remy suddenly choked up, his old distrust flaring in his eyes. "You ain' interested in my history."
"Do you have a picture of him? I don't think I ever met him." Warren let Remy's last remark slip. And what about his freak eyes? I didn't know he felt like that!
Puzzled, Remy looked at him. "A picture?"
Warren nodded his head. "Yeah, a picture." Remembering the good times will help him through this and... I can't believe I'm saying this, but he's still keeping it inside. Once the dam bursts, there will be a flood of emotions and I'd better be there when that happens. He seems fragile at best...
"I got a picture of Jean-Luc in my room," Remy admitted hesitantly.
"Then let's go to your room." Warren pushed his chair away from the kitchen table and got to his feet. "Are you coming?" Remy hadn't moved yet. The questioning expression on the Cajun's face made him feel guilty. "No hidden motives, I promise. I lost my father and now you did as well. Talking about Jean-Luc will help, trust me."
"Trust you? Trust you?" Remy's eyes grew big. "You don' trust me eit'er, remember?"
"And I told you we'd work on it. Come on, I want to see that picture." Warren walked over to the doorway, still waiting for Remy to follow him. Remy slowly rose from the chair and moved awkwardly, all elegance gone. Warren cringed inwardly, realizing how baggy Remy's clothes had become. Only a few weeks ago they had fit the Cajun perfectly. Maybe this is why I stayed... maybe it's time to bury the hatchet?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Warren followed Remy inside and waited for the Cajun to switch on some lights. Only now did he realize that the room was a mess. Blankets, clothes, sheets, books, and notebooks were spread all over the room. Remy probably feels as messed up as his room looks.
Remy uncovered a framed picture from beneath some clothes and stared at it. Tears appeared in his eyes and he quickly pressed the photograph into Warren's hands. "Dis is Jean-Luc." He turned away, staring into the darkness of the night.
Ah, Remy, I know you're crying. Turning your back toward me doesn't change that! He looked at the picture and saw a smiling, middle-aged man in a trench coat. His dark hair was combed back into a ponytail and a dark moustache sat mischievously on his upper lip. "You look a lot like him."
Remy released a strangled laugh.
"What?" Warren put the picture down on the nightstand and joined Remy in front of the window.
"He ain' my real fat'er. Jean-Luc adopted me when I was ten!"
Warren realized the mistake he had made, but wasn't changing his opinion. "You still resemble him... and both of you seem to be fond of trench coats!" He hoped the teasing would work.
Remy's shoulders shook with tears, which he desperately tried to hide. "I can' believe he's gone. I only talked to him on de phone a few days ago and he was in a good mood... He even promised to visit shortly. Now I ain' never gonna see him 'gain!"
What do I do now? I'm not such a cold-hearted bastard to let him grieve alone... am I? Damn, why aren't the others here? I'm no good at comforting others! Acting on instinct, he rested his hand on Remy's shoulder. The Cajun tried to pull away, but Warren didn't let him. Oh, man, I can't hug him! I don't hug people! I don't hug men! I never hugged Bobby and he's my best friend, but... Oh, what the hell!
He moved even closer and folded an arm around the other man's waist. Remy's breath caught and the Cajun grew tense against him. "When my father died I really needed someone to hold me, but I didn't have anyone. My father's lawyers were rather distant and... I hugged my pillow instead."
Remy lifted his eyes and tried to wipe away his tears, but Warren stopped him. "Hey, it's okay to cry. You're feeling terribly hurt inside and it's okay to let it out. You need to let it out or the pain will consume you."
"You're offerin' to hug me?" Remy shook his head in disbelief.
"Want me to hold you?" Warren refused to pressure Remy into cooperation. He would only proceed with Remy's permission.
"Oui, hold me..." Remy's gaze broke, helplessly admitting his vulnerability.
Warren reacted at once and pulled him closer. He held Remy close, rubbing soothing circles over his back. The Cajun shook in his arms and he simply held Remy tight. "It's going to be all right. You don't believe that now, but I learned how to deal with it and so will you."
"How am I gonna make it t'rough de night? I can' be 'lone now..." Remy involuntarily returned the hug, holding on tight.
"In that case I'll stay with you, okay?" Warren led Remy to the big four-poster bed and waited for the Cajun to take the hint to lie down. I only had a pillow to hug... and because of my father's money I didn't have any real friends, but I'll be damned if I let you deal with this on your own.
Remy curled up on the bed and pulled up the comforter. Warren sat down and rested his back against the headboard. He was still running comforting circles over Remy's back and moved a little closer, until Remy's head rested against his chest. "You can tell me more about your Jean-Luc."
"Non, I don' wanna talk..." Remy closed his eyes, trying to shut out the terrible pain that clawed at his soul.
"Then try to sleep," Warren suggested. "I'll stay."
Too emotionally exhausted to thank Warren for being there for him when he had least expected it, Remy willed himself to fall asleep; thinking back to when he was a child and Jean-Luc had rocked him to sleep. He found comfort in that memory. Giving in, he let Warren's touch soothe him.
A lump had formed in Warren's throat, seeing Remy's pain and obvious need to be held. I can't take away the pain inside your soul, but I can make sure you aren't alone. I'll hold you, hold you as long as you need to be held...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Non, scold! Toocold! Don'... donleaveme!"
Warren's eyes flashed open. At first, he didn't know where he was or what was happening, but then he recalled comforting Remy and staying with the Cajun. Remy, damn it! He quickly checked on the Cajun, who was lying next to him in bed. Sometime during the night, their positions had shifted and they had ended up face to face, his arms tightly wrapped around Remy's waist. Oh, it's a good thing Bobby isn't around to take a picture or start annoying rumors!
"Rogue, don'godon'godon'go..." Remy thrashed in the bed, fighting something that only existed in his nightmares.
Undecided, Warren wondered what to do. He never had nightmares and Betsy hadn't any either, so what approach would work best? Hell, I should probably wake him up!
"Henri! Donleave... Betsypleasecomebackforme... donleaveme!"
"Damn it, Remy, you're having a nightmare, stop kicking me!" Remy was moving about wildly, kicking and punching him repeatedly. "Come on, Remy, wake up!" He was tempted to shake the Cajun awake, but his instincts told him he should try talking first.
Remy's eyes opened, but the raving continued. A seemingly endless stream of words left his lips and Warren had to listen closely to understand what Remy was saying
"Warren, donwalkoutonme! Comeback! Ididnknowdidnknowdidnknow. SinisternevertoldmebouthisplansfordeMorlocks! Didnknowdidnknowdidnknow..."
"I've had enough of this, Remy. Come on, look at me! You're at Westchester, in your room!" He placed his hands on either side of Remy's head, clutching it, forcing Remy to look at him.
"Scold... scold... snowandice... scold..." Rocking hard, Remy almost toppled over and fell out of bed.
Luckily, Warren had a tight hold on him. "Remy, it's okay... you're back home, back at the mansion!" Feeling at a loss, he rubbed Remy's back, trying to get through to the other man. "Remy, listen to me. You're in your room and you're not cold." Not cold anymore... Damn it! Why didn't we turn the Blackbird around when Rogue showed up alone? Why? I didn't offer to go back and look for him. I was mad as hell, but... This is such a mess!
Remy's eyes finally regained a sense of sanity and he swallowed hard, still rocking under the aftereffects of the nightmare. "I was back dere..."
Warren shook his head. "Only in your dreams." Did Remy have these nightmares often? That would explain the dark circles under his eyes.
Remy looked about, clearly shaken and confused. "Where am I?"
"At the mansion, in your room." Remy trembled against him. "You had a nightmare, remember?" Why was he so damn eager to comfort Remy? Hours ago, he had still been distancing himself from the Cajun, avoiding him, and now? Being held calmed him down earlier... His arms were still wrapped around Remy's waist and he gently pulled Remy closer until the Cajun's head rested against his shoulder. "You dreamt about Antarctica and us walking out on you." Remy nodded weakly against his shoulder. "I'm sorry that happened," Warren said honestly. "I don't know why we were so eager to put all the blame on you when Sinister was really to blame. We took the easy way out."
But Remy wasn't really listening, lost in his memories as he was. "Was cold out dere... I even tried to draw energy from de wirin', eatin' it. If it hadn' been for my li'l green ghost I would have died."
Scott had told him about the green entity and Warren felt relieved that they had been able to 'exorcize' her. I never realized how deeply this affected you. I was so mad and angry with you that I never considered your feelings. None of us did. We were all relieved when you moved into the boathouse. It meant we didn't have to deal with our own failure.
Remy shivered violently and Warren pulled up the comforter. Slowly, letting his actions speak instead of his words, he gently lowered Remy back into the comfort of the mattress. The fact that Remy allowed it showed how confused the Cajun was.
"Do you think you can go back to sleep, Remy?" Warren tucked the comforter around their forms, growing cold as well. Gooseflesh had formed on his skin, but that wasn't due to the chilly room; it was the realization of the guilt he had never acknowledged, but he carried it nonetheless. He had let Eric the Red and Magneto make him betray a teammate.
"Don' wanna sleep," Remy said, fatigued. "De moment I close my eyes I'm back dere."
Warren didn't really know how to respond, but did the best he could. "At least try to rest, okay?"
"I'll try..." Remy said in a tiny tone.
Warren didn't pressure Remy into talking. He fervently hoped that Remy would fall asleep again and that the nightmares wouldn't haunt him again.
Chapter Two
Remy lay awake the next few hours, marveling at the fact that Warren was holding him. I don' understand. Why is he here? Why is he lookin' after me? He ignored me de last few weeks and in Antarctica he made no secret of de fact dat he loathed de sight of me! I jus' can' figure it out!
He had never expected Warren to come to his room after Mattie had told him about Jean-Luc's death. The bad news had hit him hard. The Elixir should have ensured Jean-Luc lived a long time, but Jean-Luc had been on a construction site, overseeing the building of their new headquarters when a metal beam had broken loose and nearly decapitated him. Even the Elixir was useless against such force. Jean-Luc's neck had snapped upon impact.
Merde, he was shivering again! Tears fought to form in his eyes, but he bit them back. Warren probably thought he was a wuss, breaking down this easily, but Jean-Luc had been the only person who he had ever loved unconditionally and his father had returned that affection. Now he felt alone. Even Mattie couldn't take away that feeling of abandonment.
Secretly, he had always hoped to return to New Orleans and call it home again. With Jean-Luc gone, he had to let go of that hope. He didn't know who would succeed his father, but Jean-Luc had surely left instructions. It was probably Henri.
Unexpectedly, Warren's arms around him tightened and Remy bit his bottom lip. Warren's presence made him nervous, not knowing why the other man was here, comforting him. He hates me!
"Uh, Remy? We could grab a snack in the kitchen or warm some milk? I don't think this is going to do the trick."
Remy jerked away from Warren, who quickly released him. He's playin' games. What does he want from me? One moment he wants to hold me and de next he can' wait to get 'way from me! He avoided Warren's eyes and sat on the side of the bed, looking at the framed picture showing Jean-Luc with a blinding smile. Merde, he couldn't feel this now! Not while Warren was close! He was making a complete fool of himself by crying like this!
Be a man! Wipe dose tears 'way, apologize to Warren and get de hell outta here! The urge to flee the mansion and Warren overwhelmed him, and he was about to jump to his feet when Warren's hand settled on his right shoulder.
"Hey, I merely meant that you're too emotional to rest. We might as well watch a movie or a game. Maybe that will help you relax and eventually fall asleep."
Warren's hand gently squeezed his shoulder. "I should apologize." Remy didn't turn around to face Warren and stared at the wall. Biting back his tears, he hoped his voice sounded steady. "I don' usually act like dis, mais hearin' he had died was... unexpected." Oui, that sounded okay, but his voice still trembled.
"Remy? Turn around and look at me?"
Remy didn't want to look Warren in the eyes, but the other man deserved the same respect, which Warren had given him these last hours. Remy gingerly turned around, buried his hands in the comforter, clawing it, and finally found the courage to meet Warren's gaze.
The expression on Warren's face took him aback. He had expected loathing and pity, but Warren seemed genuinely concerned. Fine lines showed on the other man's brow and the blue eyes revealed worry. Stunned, Remy averted his eyes. Why did Warren care what happened to him?
"I hurt as well when my dad died and I was younger than you are now. It's okay to feel... to feel these emotions and it's probably weird to have to confide in me because no one else is around. I'll leave if I'm making you uncomfortable. The look you're giving me explains it all."
Now I feel guilty for makin' him feel bad! "I jus' don' understand why you're here! I never expected you to care!" He was startled to hear the pleading tone in his voice, but he had to understand before he could decide on his course of action.
"Why don't you tell me what you're thinking? Yeah, it must feel weird, talking to me like this, but I'm listening and I won't make fun of you. This is serious." Warren sat cross-legged in the center of the bed, waiting for Remy's reply.
"It means a lot to me dat you're here, listenin', mais... I t'ought you couldn' care less 'bout me. When you knocked on my door last night I didn' expect you to come inside and ask me what was wrong. You seemed concerned and dat t'rew me off. Dan you suggest eatin' dinner and... I still don' know why I showed up."
"Go on, I'm still listening." Warren moved a little closer.
Remy shivered; realizing Warren was really listening and not just humoring him. Warren really seemed to care and that was almost surreal. A part of him still couldn't believe that the other man no longer hated him. "You really wanna hear dis?"
Warren's expression grew sad. "Yeah, and I owe you an apology as well, Remy."
That got Remy's attention and he turned around, peeking at Warren's eyes. "Owe me? Why?"
Warren drew in a deep breath before explaining. "I spent a long time hating you for working for Sinister and gathering the Marauders. I was so busy hating you that I stopped thinking rationally. This isn't easy to admit, but... it was easier to hate you than look at reality. Yes, you gathered the Marauders, but that doesn't make you responsible for their actions. They injured my wings, but it was a so-called friend of mine who amputated them. I blamed the loss of my wings on you as well. It was easier to blame you than admit to the fact that a friend had betrayed me."
Remy's eyes grew big. Hearing this apology was the last thing he had expected and God help him, but Warren seemed sincere. Enthralled, he listened closely and searched Warren's face at the same time.
"Remy, this hate blinded me until only a few hours ago. When I found out that your father had died I was forced to re-evaluate my thinking. I remembered how hurt I was when my dad died and you... You're banished from New Orleans and you don't really have anyone to turn to."
"And you decided to comfort me? Why don' I believe dat?" He wanted to believe Warren was sincere, but nothing in life came for free. People always wanted something, had hidden motives. He just hadn't figured out Warren's yet.
"I know it's hard to believe," Warren admitted. "And there's nothing I can say that will change your mind, but I meant what I said earlier; we could work on trusting each other again."
"I'd like dat." Remy bit his lip. He hadn't wanted to reveal that to Warren, not yet anyway.
Warren smiled and extended his right hand. "Let's shake on it? We should let the past be the past."
Remy eyed Warren's hand suspiciously. Raising his right hand, he hesitantly shook Warren's. "We can try."
Warren nodded his head. "Now that we got that out of the way... It's only four in the morning. What do you want to do? Go back to sleep or watch a movie?"
Remy hadn't fully realized until now that Warren had kept him company in bed for the first half of the night. Growing uncomfortable, he stared at the mattress, recalling Warren holding him. He had to put a stop to that. "I t'ink I can deal wit' dis on my own. You don' have to stay." Trying to act casually, his gaze fastened on Warren's wings. The soft, white feathers had always called out to him and he had wanted to touch them more than once, but in the end, he had always stopped himself from caressing them.
Warren noticed the barely hidden longing in Remy's eyes. "You can touch them if you want."
Remy shook his head. Non, don' deserve dat. Suddenly he realized that his fingers were still curled around Warren's after the handshake and he tried to pull back, wishing the other man would leave his room and let him suffer in private.
"Come on, I don't bite!" Warren guided Remy's hand to his wings.
The trembling in his hand grew worse and he was shaking when his fingers finally made contact with the soft feathers. Why was Warren doing this? Warren's eyes locked with his; the questions in them were obvious, but he couldn't address them. The softness teased his fingertips and he gingerly examined the texture of the feathers, unexpectedly to hit bone.
"You see?" Warren smiled smugly, and then allowed Remy to pull back. "Now why didn't you want to do that?"
Feeling lost, Remy shrugged his shoulders; he couldn't tell Warren the truth. I don' deserve your forgiveness, your friendship. You shouldn' lemme in. "Would you leave me 'lone now?"
"Are you sure?" Warren arched an eyebrow, expressing his doubts.
Non, I ain' sure... "Oui, I wanna be 'lone." Why couldn't he ever admit to his needs? Don' want him to see me like dis, dis vulnerable. It's bad 'nough I asked him to hold me last night!
Warren slowly got to his feet, but his eyes never left Remy. "You know where to find me in case you need to talk. I doubt I'll sleep much tonight either, so feel free to drop by anytime."
Remy nodded his head. Non, won' bot'er you anymore. You might not hate me now, mais once you're 'lone 'gain you'll remember why you hate me. He was too afraid to believe that this was the start of a new friendship. Turning away from Warren, he listened to the other man's retreating footfalls. Eventually the door closed and he was alone again, just as he had said he had wanted. But what he said and what he wanted were two different things, but he would never admit that.
He curled up on his bed, pulled the comforter over his shivering body and closed his eyes, trying to remember the good times he and Jean-Luc had shared.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Damn, I'm feeling guilty for leaving him alone in his room! I can't fucking believe this!" Warren had taken a quick shower and was now lying down, trying to get comfortable in bed, but the mattress suddenly felt lumpy and his pillow just didn't want to support his head properly. His fist impacted with the pillow, trying to push it into the desired shape, but his attempts at getting some sleep were useless. Tossing and turning, he finally gave up, switched on the light and stared at the ceiling.
The emotional turmoil he was in, was nothing compared to how he had felt when he had broken up with Bets and he had been stressed when she had dumped him. The turmoil he was experiencing now was of a different nature. He had misjudged a teammate. He and Remy had never been friends, but his hate hadn't been justified at all. I jumped on the bandwagon. Everyone blamed Remy and I just joined in. He was paying the price for that now. No, Remy paid the price. Once Hank and Bobby get back I'll talk to them about Remy. Maybe we can turn this around.
And tomorrow's Christmas Eve. Man, that's going to be depressing. I doubt Hank and Bobby will be back in time and that leaves Remy and I alone at the mansion. They had put up a tree before the rest of the team had left to celebrate Christmas privately, but the Christmas spirit hadn't settled on the mansion yet. Maybe I can change that. Celebrating Christmas is probably the last thing on Remy's mind, but maybe it'll distract him.
I still need to get some groceries. We should have a decent Christmas dinner. Presents? No, that would be overkill, but maybe we can watch a vid. Man, I feel so damned guilty for letting things go this far! He had never felt this guilty before. His conscience was acting up big time. Should I check on Remy? I could have a quick look... No, he'll think I'm spying on him. Damn it, I can't sleep!
Giving up on getting some decent sleep, he picked up the book he was reading, flipped to the right page and started reading, but his thoughts continued to drift off to Remy...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Warren got up at dawn, dressed and headed for the kitchen. His feet almost carried him to Remy's room, but he changed direction just in time. Once he entered the kitchen, his stomach growled loudly. He hadn't expected to have an appetite, and decided to make some pancakes. He switched on the coffee maker, dying to taste the black gold.
Uhm, should I wake Remy and invite him to have breakfast with me or should I let him sleep in? Maybe he only just now fell asleep and... The nervous shuffling of feet made him look up and he smiled, seeing Remy hover near the doorway. The Cajun's hair was still wet from the shower he had taken and his eyes looked less draped than last night. That got solved quickly!
But Remy didn't enter the kitchen and Warren took action. "Coffee's almost ready. What would you like for breakfast? Pancakes? Or cereal? I could toast some bread... Sit down, Remy. Coffee or juice?" The look Remy gave him spoke of bafflement and disbelief and again his guilt came rushing in. Remy obviously thought he had ulterior motives for inviting him to breakfast!
"Your pancake's burnin'..." Remy whispered the warning, almost afraid to break the enchantment of the moment.
"Fuck!" Warren quickly removed the pan and sighed. The pancake was beyond saving. "Good thing I didn't burn the others." Grinning smugly, he placed the plate with a pile of small pancakes on the table. Remy still hadn't moved and Warren wondered what to do next. Sitting down, he pushed a chair in Remy's direction. "Keep me company? I made too many pancakes! I can't possibly eat them on my own."
Remy hesitantly sat down, staring at the pancakes. "Warren?"
"Yes?" Warren dropped a pancake onto Remy's plate and then served himself. Shame and embarrassment were written all over Remy's face and he had to say something to assure the Cajun. "You had a bad night, okay? Happens to all of us."
Remy quickly nodded his head and stared at the pancake. "I ain' hungry..."
"I understand that food is the last thing on your mind after losing Jean-Luc, but you can't neglect your needs. Just eat a bit, drink some juice and try to keep it down." Damn, Remy looked as weak as a kitten; his face was pale, and the dark rings under his eyes proved that he hadn't had much sleep last night. You're too skinny anyway. When was the last time I saw you eat? I really can't remember. When I walked in on you in the kitchen you were fixing a bite, but you didn't take the sandwich with you...
Remy reached for the honey and let the golden liquid drip onto his pancake. Warren smiled; at least Remy was willing to eat. He filled the Cajun's glass with juice and poured him a mug of coffee. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but did you tell me last night that you couldn't go to New Orleans because you were banished from that city?"
Remy flinched violently and then nodded his head. "Can' go back."
"But you've still got family there?" Warren watched Remy take a reluctant bite and swallow it.
"Oui, Henri, mon frère and Mattie..."
"Who's Mattie?" Maybe if he gave Remy a chance to talk about his family the Cajun wouldn't miss them that much.
"Mattie helped Jean-Luc raise me. I was a handful... Deir words, not mine."
Warren laughed. "I can imagine. You must have kept them busy."
Remy suddenly looked up, sharply. "Why'd you say dat?"
Warren realized that he was treading on thin ice for some reason. "I don't know. As a kid you probably got into a lot of trouble."
Remy couldn't deny the truth. "Well, I did..."
The Cajun obviously wasn't going in to details and Warren accepted that. "You could call them, you know? You might not be able to go to New Orleans, but the phone's always available." And I won't eavesdrop this time!
Remy shrugged his shoulders. "Don' know 'bout callin' dem. Henri and Mattie got so much on deir minds right now."
Warren frowned. What's more important than supporting you? They're your family! "What things?"
"Guild matters," Remy revealed reluctantly.
"Guild matters?" Confused, Warren stared into his coffee. He knew that Remy was a Guild thief, but the Guilds itself were a mystery to him.
"Can' really talk 'bout dat." Remy dropped his fork on to the plate, having lost his appetite.
"So you're stuck here at the mansion?"
"I'd rat'er return to de boathouse."
"We haven’t had a chance to fix the heating yet," Warren reminded him. "And it's Christmas! You can't be there on your own on Christmas Eve."
"Don' feel like celebratin'..."
"I understand that, but Remy... You shouldn't isolate yourself. I tried that after I got rid of Death. Trust me, it doesn't work." Warren moistened his lips. These last twelve hours he had revealed many personal things to Remy. Maybe that was why they were getting along.
"I don' mind bein' 'lone." Remy pushed the plate away and clasped his fingers around the glass. Sipping his juice, he tried to avoid Warren's stare.
"You know what? I don't believe that."
Remy's head jerked back and finally met Warren's eyes. "What?"
"I don't believe that you want to be alone." Warren leaned back and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
Remy looked perplexed. "Homme?"
"I need to get some groceries and you're coming with me. We'll eat Christmas dinner in the dining room and we'll prepare it together. You even get to pick the movie we'll watch afterwards." Warren privately wondered about his decisiveness. He was damned determined not to let Remy drown in his sorrow. If necessary, he would drag Remy with him into the stores.
Remy shrugged his shoulders again. "I don' care, homme."
I think you do, Remy. You just don't know what to make of my behavior and neither do I.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wasn' hungry, I really wasn', mais somehow Warren managed to make me eat four pancakes and drink some juice. I don' know what to make of him. After last night I t'ought he'd start avoidin' me 'gain and when I smelled de coffee I almost turned 'round 'gain, mais he invited me in, even poured me juice and coffee and den...
He said he didn' believe me! Said he didn' believe I really wanted to be 'lone! And he got pushy! Warren doesn' do pushy, at least not to get my cooperation. First Poppa dies and now Warren's actin' weird.
And den he decides dat I have to go grocery shoppin' wit' him and cook Christmas Dinner! Like I care 'bout Christmas right now. I wanted to tell him dat I had a femme waitin' for me, mais I couldn' pull it off. I haven' dated for ages. After Rogue and I broke up I jus' didn' have de energy to flirt and smoot' talk de femmes... or de hommes.
So now he's draggin' me from one store to anot'er, addin' to de shoppin' cart like he's got an orphanage to feed. Why is he doin' dis?
Mon Dieu, I want to be wit' Henri and Tante so bad and I can'. Tante said dat Poppa was tryin' to convince de Assassins to lemme come home, mais he died before dey gave in. I'm still not welcome in N'Arlings... Where else can I go? I don' have a home. At one time I t'ought I had found one at Westchester, but de trial crushed dat hope. I don' have a home anymore... what am I still doin' here? I should have left Westchester a long time ago. Rien holdin' me here!
"Remy, do you like strawberries? Jean once showed me how to make a tasty dessert. It mostly featured strawberries..." Warren held out a basket filled with strawberries.
Remy forced himself to reply and pushed his thoughts and doubts in to the back of his mind. "Strawberries are bien, homme."
Warren added them to the shopping cart. "Anything else we need?" Looking about, he moved forward and took hold of a package of Twinkies. "Nah, Bobby and Hank will bring tons of these back home! We'll be eating Twinkies until New Year's!"
Remy actually chuckled softly. He could easily imagine Bobby and Hank living on Twinkies during the holidays. When he had heard about the Twinkie run, he had been sad that they hadn't asked him to accompany them. A Twinkie run sounded like a lot of fun, but he understood that they didn't want him to tag along. He was an outsider, the traitor, and his place wasn't at their side. During a mission maybe, but not in their spare time.
"I think we got everything we need." Warren steered the shopping card towards the check-out desk.
Remy obediently followed Warren, wondering why he was allowing the other man to boss him around. De trut' is dat I don' wanna be 'lone, mais I don' wanna take up his time eit'er...
"Remy, take these to the car? I'll carry the rest."
Remy released a deep sigh, allowing Warren to push some grocery bags into his arms. Following Warren's orders, he returned to the car and put the groceries in the trunk. A brunette gave him an appreciative smile, but he looked away, unable to encourage her. She was pretty, but he wasn't in the mood to romance her. Pulling up the collar of his coat, he slid onto the passenger's seat and waited for Warren to join him. The girl was no longer interested and turned her back on him, heading back into the mall.
What's takin' Warren dis long? I wanna go ho... back to de mansion. No longer home... no longer home... it ain' home... He flinched when Warren suddenly closed the trunk with a loud bang. "Merde, I'm actin' like a li'l kid." Every sound seemed to startle him.
"Ready to go home?" Warren slipped behind the wheel and keyed the ignition.
He caught Warren's questioning look when he didn't reply and merely tried to hide deeper behind his collar. Warren tuned into an oldie station that was playing Christmas carols and he barely refrained from changing the station. He wasn't in the mood for music and certainly not carols!
"Did you make that phone call to Mattie and Henri yet?"
He remembered deir names? Guess he really listened! Remy shook his head. He was still working up his courage to call them. Hearing their voices from a distance would worsen his pain.
Warren stared at the road, trying to avoid patches of ice on the road. "Remy?"
"Oui?" Remy shot Warren a puzzled look.
"If you don't want to spend Christmas Eve with me, that's okay. I know I was pushy at breakfast, but I don't want you think that you're not welcome. It's just the two of us and I'd like some company, but if you don't want to... I'll understand."
At least Warren was now offering him a choice and he desperately wanted to take Warren up on his offer. But did he really want to spend Christmas Eve alone in his room? "Non, it's bien... We can eat somet'in' and I'll help you cook."
Warren smiled. "That's great, Remy."
Remy hid deeper behind his collar. "Can I ask you somet'in'?"
"Sure, shoot."
"You explained why you're stickin' close, mais... dat doesn' explain why you wanna spend Christmas Eve wit' me. You hate my guts!" He knew he wasn't fair toward Warren, but he just didn't get it!
"We're working on trusting each other again, remember? We can only do that if we do stuff together. I want to make this friendship work... It pretty much depends on you if we're going to be friends or not." Warren's tone remained calm, explaining his reasons all over again. "I made mistakes too. Can't you simply accept that I'm trying to get to know you and maybe become friends?"
For once Remy decided to speak his mind. "Non, people don' jus' like me for no reason and you went from hatin' me to wantin' to be friends in twenty-four hours."
"Don't you think I'm surprised as well? I don't understand it myself, Remy, but I mean it. We shook on it, remember? Let's start all over again. Let's stop making accusations and try to move on?"
No matter how hard he pushed Warren, he always got the same answer and he was too tired to remain suspicious. "I'll try."
"Good, that's all I can ask for." Warren drove up the driveway and put the car into park. "Help me carry everything inside?"
Remy acted without questioning Warren's request. And mebbe I'll call Tante later.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Tante?" Remy had finally found the courage to make the phone call and now waited for Tante to answer him. His heart thumped loudly and seemed to expand in his chest, pressing down on his ribs and making him gasp for air.
"Remy! Chile! It's good to hear your voice! I wanted to call you, mais I'm glad you beat me to it. It's so sad dat you can' be here. Henri talked to Belle, tryin' to get her permission to fly you in, mais de Assassins refused. How are you holdin' up, petit?"
Even after so many years, hearing Tante call him 'petit' made his heart miss a beat. That word carried so many wonderful memories that it brought tears to his eyes. "I wish I could be wit' you and Henri. How's he dealin' wit' Poppa's deat'? Must be hard on him."
"Oui, it's hard on Henri, mais I t'ink it's a lot harder on you. Henri mourns Jean-Luc's deat', mais... you needed Jean-Luc de most." Tante paused briefly and wiped away her tears with a handkerchief. "Call me, Remy, call me daily. I need to talk to you."
"I need to talk to you too, Tante." Remy had lost the fight against his tears and they flowed down his face, making him feel like the little child that the LeBeau family had taken in years ago. "What's gonna happen next? Will he be cremated? Buried at de family crypt? What did Poppa want?"
"His body will be embalmed and placed in de family tomb. We planned a memorial service for tomorrow evenin' and it's a shame you can' be dere, chile. You've got every right to attend!"
Remy used his sleeve to wipe away his tears. He was in the living room and Warren had retreated to the kitchen, but the other man could still hear him or walk in on him. "Je t'aime, Tante..."
"Ai, Remy... I'm so sorry. I wish I could put my arms 'round you and hold you. Please tell Tante dat you ain' 'lone. You do have someone who'll help you t'rough dis? What was dat girl's name? Rogue?"
"We're no longer toget'er, Tante." Merde, this wasn't the right time to tell Tante that Rogue had dumped him.
"Chile, non! Do you want me to come to Westchester, petit? You know I will, jus' tell me! You can' be 'lone right now! Jean-Luc was important to you and I doubt anyone else will understand what his deat's doin' to you."
He really wanted to tell her to come to Westchester, but he couldn't. Henri and the Guild needed her and he was just one man who needed her. "Non, Tante, stay in N'Arlings."
"Remy, chile... I need to know you ain' 'lone or I'm comin' anyway!"
He recognized her tone; she meant business. "I ain' 'lone, Tante... Warren's here."
"Warren? I don' know dat name... Did you ever mention him before?"
"Non, don' t'ink so. He's an X-Man, Tante."
"And he knows 'bout Jean-Luc?"
Remy cringed. "Oui, Tante, he knows."
"Put him on de phone."
"Tante! Don' do dis to me! I ain' a chile." Oh, but she was going to make him do this! "Tante, Warren's here, you don' have to talk to him!"
"Don' contradict me, chile. Put de homme on de phone and when I'm satisfied dat he knows what you're goin' t'rough I'll stay in N'Arlings, if not, I'm comin' to Westchester. Now listen to Tante, chile."
Trying to change her mind was useless, he had learned that a long time ago. "I'll ask him if he wants to talk to you..."
"Move it, chile. I'm waitin'."
Resigned, Remy walked into the kitchen.
Warren was busy preparing dinner. He looked up and arched an eyebrow, seeing that Remy was still on the phone. "Something wrong?"
"Tante wants to talk to you." Remy mumbled the words, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. He handed Warren, who had to dry his hands first, the phone and gave the other man an apologetic look. Embarrassed, he sat down at the kitchen table, wringing his hands nervously.
Warren shrugged his shoulders. "This is Warren."
"Warren? Dis is Mattie Baptiste. You could say I'm Remy's... foster mot'er and I need to know dat he's tellin' me de truth."
Remy cringed, seeing the amusement on Warren's face. Why did he feel like they were ganging up against him?
"The truth about what, ma’am?" Warren had a good idea what this was about, but wasn't relying on assumptions.
"Did Remy tell you dat his fat'er died?"
"Yes, he did. He told me last night and he hasn't been alone since... Well, I left him alone to catch some sleep, but I'm keeping a close eye on him."
Tante sighed, pleased. "Bon, he seems to be in good hands, mais listen to me, Warren. Jean-Luc meant de world to Remy and de chile can be stubborn. Don' let him fool you. He has to be depressed."
Warren nodded his head. "I agree with you, ma’am. He seems depressed to me as well."
Remy shifted on the chair. "Depressed?" Had Tante really told Warren that?
"You can rest assured, ma’am. I'll take care of Remy," Warren assured Tante.
"Bon... I have to go now... Henri needs my help... Tell de chile I love him!" Tante regretted ending the call this abruptly, but the Assassins were standing on her doorstep.
"I'll tell him." Warren put down the cell phone and joined Remy at the kitchen table. "She wants you to know she loves you."
Remy blushed. God help him, but he couldn't stop it. I know dat...
"Hey, you're blushing! Are you really blushing? That's a first!" Warren hoped that the teasing would ease the tension between them. "Seriously, she sounds like a lovely lady."
"She is," Remy whispered, shyly. Desperately to change their subject matter, he looked about. "You made a mess, Wings... Need help cookin' Christmas Dinner?" Talking to Tante had helped. He did feel better now.
"Sure, I need all the help I can get. Come on, little elf and put on some water." Warren searched and found the oldie station on the radio and signaled Remy to get to his feet.
"Elf? Did you really call me an elf? What does dat make you? Rudolph, de red-nosed reindeer?"
"Rudolph?"
"You got de wings to pull Santa's sledge." Remy moved to fill the pan with water. The bantering helped him relax. Mebbe spendin' Christmas wit' Warren won' be dat bad...