Title: Leftovers

Author: A-Bomb (Feedback will be forwarded to A-Bomb by the webmistress: Starliner00gmx.net)

Website: http://www.avalon.cobweb.nl/bomb.html

Rating: PG

Pairing / Main characters: Gambit, Beast, Jean

Series/Sequel: Sequel to Cajun Turkey, unfinished

Summary: Angst. Hank tries to help Remy deal with his eating disorder.

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. Everyone is free, even mutants. Why they keep selling themselves to Marvel, I'll never know. But I do know that I don't own them, nor do I make any money off them. This is a free enterprise system people!

Thanks to: Samantha and Peggy, my two fantastic friends and beta-readers. And to all you guys who have stayed on me about getting the next chapter out.

Notes: This is the sequel to 'Cajun Turkey'. I've had a couple of people ask before, and I want to say that my stories never are and never will be slash. Just one kind soul trying to help another tortured one. I love angst, and I love forming friendships between unsuspecting characters. Yeah, I know, weird. (0% Oh well, that's me for ya. Feedback is very, very, very welcome. Feel free to be critical, it helps me become a better writer. But please don't be mean. I cry easily. Enjoy!

Italics stand for thoughts.

______________________________________________________

 

Leftovers 1

By A-Bomb

 

Hank breathed a deep sigh of relief, happy to be back in his lab and ready to get back to work. It was nice to have a holiday every once in a while. But after a few days, the stress would really build up. He would turn over formulas and ideas in his head, dying to test them. But without the availability of his lab equipment, he simply had to sit on his ideas, and after a few days, he only had so much patience. His parents understood, of course. They loved seeing him and visiting, as he did with them. But his father was much the same. There were too many things to get done, and sitting around twiddling one's thumbs would get one nowhere.

Hank smiled to himself. If only the others had seen what his father was like growing up. And they thought he was bad! He had a great deal of respect for the man. His father had always kept him involved in work and activities. Whether it was sports, Boy Scouts, or simply putting together a jigsaw puzzle. They never even bought a television until he was in his teens. And by that point, Hank had been more interested in taking it apart to see how it worked, rather than sitting around watching it.

Hank brought himself back to the present. He had left them with the promise of calling and writing whenever possible. They had said their goodbyes and now everyone was back to their normal routines. He sighed, realizing how much he sometimes missed the hectic but stable routine he had growing up.

He was just about to sit down and fire up the computer when the lab door whooshed open. Hank turned around and smiled as Professor Xavier entered in his hover-chair.

"Hello Hank. I thought I heard you come in this morning. Did you have a nice visit with your parents?"

"Actually, yes, sir, it was quite pleasant. I haven't seen them in so long. The farm has changed quite a bit. But my dear mother's cooking is still as wonderful as ever."

Xavier smiled and nodded. He had been given the pleasure of eating at Hank's house before. To this day, he had never tasted better blueberry cobbler.

Hank cracked a smile. "I put a fresh cobbler in the fridge."

Xavier looked up. "Was I projecting that?" he laughed and winked.

"Just a bit." Hank laughed and then continued, "I noticed, however, that we are somewhat low on space in there. Where did all that food come from?"

"Well," Xavier answered, "Remy got a bit carried away in the kitchen Thursday. But he figured that we could always use leftovers, if nothing else, to keep Scott from the kitchen."

Hank shuddered. "Yes, even month-old turkey would be better than Scott's Chicken-burger Surprise casserole. I do not enjoy having to treat ten X-men for that kind of food-poisoning." Xavier grimaced and nodded in response.

"So Remy stayed here for Thanksgiving?"

Xavier looked up at Hank, putting on a serious face. This was actually why he had come down in the first place. He wanted to hear another side to what happened in Antarctica, before he said something to the entire group. He trusted Hank's opinion. Hank would not lie to him, even if it meant admitting he was in the wrong. Xavier cleared his throat to continue.

"Yes, Hank. I must admit I was a bit surprised to walk into the kitchen and find him in there cooking. For one thing, I did not think he had such culinary talents. You must try the Cajun Turkey before Logan gets back and eats it all." He took a deep breath and continued. "But I also found out some interesting facts about our Cajun friend."

Xavier noticed Hank's interest level jump a few notches. Anything that one of them could find out about the elusive Gambit was a prize. Remy never opened to any of them, and he knew this frustrated Hank beyond words. Hank had the same suspicions that Xavier had always had. That Remy was more than meets the eye.

"However, before I delve into this, Hank, I would like to ask you a couple of questions."

Hank nodded for him to continue.

"You were one of the ones in Antarctica when that so-called trial occurred. Up until a few days ago, I did not really have a clue what happened down there. Out of everyone that attended, I feel that you might be able to give me the most straightforward and honest answer. What exactly happened down there?"

As Xavier finished off the question, Hank's throat grew dry. He hated talking about this. He was so ashamed of what happened to Gambit. Personally, he felt the entire thing was a ridiculous waste of time. No one deserved to be treated like Gambit had been. Hank had been angry with Rogue for weeks. In a way, he still was. But now that Gambit was alive and back, he had pushed all that to the side to concentrate on his research. Now Xavier was asking him to unbury those feelings. Hank took a deep breath and sighed before looking up at Xavier to continue.

"Well, sir, I personally think the whole thing was ridiculous. I'm not angry at Gambit, if that is what you are wondering. I'm a bit hurt that he did not share something so important with us, but I do not feel he was as responsible as Rogue, Warren, and some of the others are making him out to be. I've had too many encounters with Mr. Sinister to know that he is a master at the manipulation of human desperation. I think Remy's reaction to the MedLab is enough evidence to that."

Xavier's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, Henry?"

Hank continued, "You know as well as I do that every time I come near him with a piece of medical equipment, he flinches. And getting him to come in here is next to impossible unless he is completely knocked out. I simply deduced that his actions are probably the result of uncomfortable experiences in a laboratory in the past."

Xavier nodded. He had not considered how Sinister might have gone about threatening Remy.

"I simply believe that Remy was manipulated into working for Sinister. I do not know if he could have found another way around it. I haven't asked him. But Sinister knows how to break people. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if the entire thing was involuntary on Remy's part."

Xavier studied Hank for a few moments. He trusted the man who was one of his oldest students. Hank never lied to him, and he was quite happy with the answer he received.

"I'm glad you feel this way, Henry. Because I would now like to ask for your help."

Hank nodded, and so Xavier continued.

"I have a conference of extreme importance that I must attend for the next three days. I'm not expecting the others back for at least a few more days. I know that you have a lot to do here in your lab, but I would really appreciate it if you could speak to Remy."

Hank listened to what Xavier was asking and agreed, but he was also curious at this sudden display of concern.

"Sir, is there a reason for this sudden concern? Remy has been on his own before. I doubt he needs a babysitter."

Xavier shook his head slightly and cleared his throat. "I'm not asking you to take care of him. Just to talk to him. I... I'm worried that he is becoming severely depressed."

Hank's eyes widened at this revelation. He had not really been paying attention to Gambit since he returned. All his time lately was devoted to the Med Lab, the one place in the house Gambit would not set foot in.

"In fact, Hank, I would like you to get him an good anti-depressant. You can use that as an icebreaker. When I return from my trip, he's coming back to the mansion. This is getting ridiculous, and it's time this family started acting like one again."

Hank nodded. He was actually quite concerned now. If Xavier was actually worried about Remy's mental state, that most likely meant there was something to be worried about. The man had three Ph.D.'s in psychology. Of course he knew what he was talking about.

"O.K., sir, I'll see what I can do."

Xavier nodded his approval. "Thank you, Hank. I would deeply appreciate it."

With that, Xavier turned and left the Med Lab, leaving Hank to figure out how to handle this new dilemma.

***

Hank stood outside the boathouse door, listening to the sounds coming from inside. Although not as sensitive as Wolverine's, Hank's senses were stronger than normal. Especially his hearing. And at the moment, he didn't like what he was listening to.

This is getting old
I can't break these chains that I hold
My body's growing cold,
There's nothin' left of this mind or my soul
Addiction needs a pacifier,
The buzz of this poison is taking me higher
This will fall away, this will fall away.

You're getting closer,
To pushing me off of life's little ledge
Cause I'm a loser
And sooner or later you know I'll be dead
You're getting closer,
You're holding the rope and I'm taking the fall
Cause I'm a loser,
I'm a Loser, yeah!

What a morbid song, he thought to himself. But what alarmed him more was a faint, almost non-existent, heaving sound coming from inside. He immediately walked up to the door and knocked, hoping he wouldn't have to break it down if something was wrong.

The sound stopped, and Hank had to wonder if he were not hearing things. After a few moments, Remy's voice rang out.

"Jus' sec! Be right dere!"

Hank listened to the sudden commotion inside. But before he could tell what was going on, the music came blasting out, some kind of punk rock turned to the max. His head was already starting to hurt, and he hadn't even spoken to Remy yet.

Almost as suddenly as that happened, it stopped, and the door opened. Remy stood there, looking slightly out of breath and shaky. Hank noticed, as only an experienced doctor would, that the knuckles on his right hand were red and slightly cut. And for some reason, he had on sunglasses, even though it was cloudy and cold outside. Hank was so fast and experienced at this, however, that Remy didn't even notice he was being examined. Or if he did, he gave no sign of knowing.

"ello Hank. What can Gambit do for ya?"

Hank cleared his throat. He was not good at confrontations, especially by himself, and he didn't want to scare Gambit off. He laughed inwardly at how strange that sounded. But maybe scaring the Cajun was not as hard as they had previously thought. Gambit just seemed to cover his fear so well, no one knew the difference.

"Hello Remy. I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time. There are some issues I wish to discuss with you." Issues?! Great one McCoy, that sounds like you want to discuss current events with him!

"Ya wan' to talk 'bout current events or somet'ing?"

Hank cringed inside. Was the boy a telepath now too? "No, Remy, I'd like to talk about something more relevant to... you."

Remy stood there for a moment staring at him. Hank was about to say something along the lines of he was freezing his butt off out here, when Remy nodded and stepped to the side for him to enter. Hank walked into the boathouse and looked around. It had been a while since he had been in here. Actually, it was right after Jean and Scott were married, and he, Bobby, and Warren were visiting and just talking about old times and such. Very little had changed in the living room. The furniture and décor were almost untouched. He had a feeling Scott and Jean probably wanted to get back in to their house. Jean had convinced Scott that it would be a good idea to let Remy have some space right now. Scott was a little more skeptical, but Jean had him twisted around her pinky finger, and so Scott gave in easily.

"Ya wan' anyt'ing to eat or drink?" Remy's voice brought Hank out of his thoughts and back to the present.

Hank cleared his throat. "Um, no. I'm fine. Thank you though."

Remy nodded his head and appeared to be looking at Hank. Those sunglasses were becoming quite unnerving.

Hank continued, "Actually, Remy, why don't we have a seat."

Remy shrugged his shoulders and walked over to the couch, with Hank following behind him. As they sat, Hank noticed the strange body language Remy was displaying. He sat on the edge of the couch, arms folded around himself, looking as though he might bolt at any moment. Something was definitely not right here. He studied the Cajun a bit closer. He was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, but they looked unusually big for him. And he was hiding something behind those glasses.

"Remy, will you please take off your sunglasses."

Remy's head turned to look at him, and Hank could almost feel a sudden surge of fear come from him.

"Non, Hank," he whispered. "I... um, I have a slight eye infection and de light hurts."

Hank narrowed his eyes. Remy was up to something. "Well, let me take a look, maybe I can..."

"Non!!!" Remy turned his face away. "It's mostly better. Jus' still a li'l sensitive to de light."

Hank sighed and gave up on that for the moment. Arguing with Remy would get him nowhere. He sighed inwardly. This would be so much easier if the professor were here. But he was a doctor as well. He knew all the signs of depression and mental sicknesses. He and Xavier had spent hours upon hours discussing the chemical imbalances of the brain and the symptoms they caused. And the more he studied Remy, to his dismay, the more symptoms he was beginning to see.

On an impulse, Hank reached out and grabbed Remy's right arm, pulling it up in front of his face to study closer. In those few seconds, Hank registered several things. The scratches on Remy's knuckles were teeth marks. And the arm he had grabbed had at least three layers of clothing on it, meaning it had to be skeletal thin. Most likely along with the rest of Remy's body.

All of this was registered in Hank's mind within a matter of a few moments, as he knew Remy would only give him about that much time. Remy was too shocked to respond for about three seconds, then he wretched his hand from Hank's grasp and jumped back.

"What d'ya t'ink y're doin'?" Alarm and fear suddenly filled Remy's face. At about the same moment, they both realized the glasses had fallen off, revealing dark puffy circles under Remy's eyes. This made the cheekbones even more defined and hollow. Remy blinked a couple of times, then turned away.

Hank, actually, was not too surprised. It was just another symptom of the disorder eating at Remy. Hank was pretty sure he had a good idea about what was going on now, and he had yet to even speak to Remy.

The younger man walked aimlessly over to the window, wrapping his arms around himself, either for warmth or a sense of security. "Jus' leave me 'lone, Hank." The next sentence was a whisper, but Hank picked it up clearly. "I know what I'm doin'."

Hank watched Remy for a few minutes, neither of them saying anything. Remy simply stood motionless, staring out the window. Hank was going over and over in his head wondering how to handle this delicate situation. He realized that he would most likely get nowhere with the stubborn Cajun unless he took the direct approach.

He stood up and took a few steps toward Remy, stopping several feet away from him.

"Could you please tell me then, Remy, what it is you know you are doing?"

Remy looked up at Hank, a startled expression on his face. He had not expected the question. But leave it to Hank to surprise you. Remy just turned back around, shaking his head.

Hank gritted his teeth, frustrated. But why should this conversation be any different. Remy always liked to make things difficult.

It was at that moment, Hank noticed Remy flinch. A realization hit him at about the same time, and he remembered part of a conversation he had had with Xavier earlier that day. Xavier had confided in him that Remy was quite possibly an extremely powerful empath. Hank had played with the idea in the past, seeing as how the Cajun could probably charm a rock if he really wanted to. But had Remy just reacted to that sudden jolt of frustration? This could be quite an interesting turn of events. He decided to test the water a little, and see how much he could get Remy comfortable with sharing.

"Did you just feel that, Remy?" Hank asked in his most gentle voice. He wanted to radiate as much kindness and confidence as possible, hoping that it might loosen Remy up a bit.

Remy looked up, appearing shocked for a moment. Then calmness seemed to spread over his face. "What 're ya doin', Hank?"

It seemed to be working. At least Remy looked a little less like he was about to jump out of his skin. Hank sighed inwardly, happy that he finally seemed to be getting somewhere. "Please, Remy," Hank reached out and placed a gentle hand on Remy's shoulder. "Can we sit back down and talk?"

Remy looked back down, and Hank thought he saw tears pooling in the crimson and coal eyes. He looks so miserable, Hank thought. How could we all have been ignoring him like this? He has been right here the whole time. And no one has even offered to talk to him. Xavier's right. We need to pull this family back together. This has become ridiculous.

Hank walked behind Remy back to the couch and they sat down. This time, however, Hank reached out and grasped both of Remy's shoulders, facing the younger man toward him. He held him gently but firmly, wanting to make sure he had all of Remy's attention. To his surprise, Remy didn't fight this. He figured Remy simply didn't have the strength anymore.

"O.K., Remy. Now I want you to just listen to me for a few moments. Can you do that?"

Remy nodded, too shocked to do anything else.

"Good." Hank sighed, figuring he should start with the information he just found out.

"I was speaking to Charles earlier, before he left. He was telling me that he figured you might be a very strong empath. Is that why you had the reactions you did a few moments ago?"

Remy looked like a deer caught in headlights. He closed his eyes and dropped his head, as though he were trying to escape this questioning. But Hank wasn't going to lose that easily. He reached down and took the face in his hands. "Look at me, Remy. Stop trying to hide." Remy opened his eyes again, and Hank noticed that the unshed tears he had seen earlier were now making their way down his face.

"I-I'm sorry, Hank. Oui, I guess it's true." He looked down again. Hank dropped his hands and placed one on Remy's shoulder.

"Why are you sorry, Remy? I think that's wonderful."

Remy just shook his head. "Jus' another secret dat everyone can hate me for."

Hank felt his jaw clench. Remy was right. Every time Remy revealed something to them, most of the X-men shunned him. No wonder the poor kid hid so much from them.

Hank raised a hand up and wiped some of the tears from Remy's cheeks. "I'm sorry for that, Remy. That is a mistake on mine and everyone else's part. You should not have to feel that way."

Remy just turned his head to the other direction. "Non, Hank. I deserve it. You know dat. You know what I've done." Remy turned away, wrapping his arms around himself, and Hank noticed him slightly rock back and forth. Hank couldn't see Remy's face; it was completely turned away. But self-contained sobs were obviously shaking the thin body in front of him. Hank was sitting to the left, and again noticed Remy's right hand, which was wrapped around his body. He reached out and ran his gentle fingers over it tenderly. "Yes, Remy, I do know what you have done."

Whether it was because of the touch, the kindness emanating from Hank, or the realization that his secret was discovered, Remy's sobs were no longer contained, and pain and fear came pouring out with the tears. Hank had to pull back. The emotions were so powerful. They felt like battering rams trying to break into his mind. He silently thanked Xavier for spending so many hours with him showing him how to build shields strong enough to stand up to this type of force. He shuddered to think what it would feel like if he didn't have this type of defense.

Hank opened his eyes as he felt the emotions retreat. He was dismayed, however, to see Remy huddled on the other end of the couch, practically in hysterics.

"Remy...?" Hank moved a bit closer, but this made Remy even worse.

"I'm sorry, Hank!!! Please... I didn' mean to. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Remy was crying so hard, he was about to hyperventilate. Hank decided to try what he did earlier, and sent as many calm and concerned thoughts toward Remy as he could. This seemed to be helping a little, so he decided to try words again.

"Remy, please calm down. I'm not angry or upset. Just take some deep breaths for me." He was relieved when Remy finally started to respond to him and calm down. After a few minutes, Remy was a bit more composed, although he was shaking terribly. Hank realized what a delicate situation he was now in, and knew he needed to handle it accordingly. He stood up and then knelt down in front of Remy, determined to get his undivided attention.

Hank took a deep breath. "Remy, like I just said, I'm not angry or upset. I came here tonight because I want to help you. Charles is worried about you, but I don't think he really knew the extent to which your depression has reached." Hank reached out and grasped Remy's shoulders. "How long have you been bulimic?"

Hank felt the fear rise again in Remy, but instead of retreating, he took Remy's right hand, and rubbed the cut knuckles. The tears were falling down Remy's face again, but Hank was not going to let Remy push him away with another emotional blast.

Remy continued to cry, and Hank let him. He knew Remy needed to let this go. It wasn't good for him to hold all this in. They had taken a big step tonight, and he knew it would take a large emotional toll on Remy. As the cries turned to sobs, Hank sat back up on the couch and pulled Remy to him, enveloping him in his huge, furry arms. Remy went limp as the sobs continued to flow from him.

Hank didn't say a word. He was going to let Remy be the one to decide when he no longer needed to cry. Hank decided that he was going to be here for Remy as long as the young mutant needed him. He began rubbing Remy's back in small circles, biting back his anger and concern as he felt the protruding backbone under the shirts. How could we have let this happen, right in front of us?

Hank suddenly felt Remy moving slightly back and forth against him. He was slightly shocked to realize the young Cajun wanted to be rocked. Hank again fought down his sickness at the fact that Remy was subconsciously reacting like a child desperately craving contact. Was he this desperate and starved for affection? Hank began moving back and forth, surprised at how fast Remy was reacting to the simple motion. He was almost asleep after a minute or so. Hank continued this until he felt Remy's breathing even out, signaling he was asleep.

Hank sighed and looked around. This was not how he had planned things to work out. For one, he really wanted to get Remy hooked up to some fluids and nutrients. He needed to gain some weight, and fast. But he couldn't bring himself to wake Remy up and force him into the cold and down to the Med Lab. And there was no way he was going to leave Remy here alone. Not after everything he just discovered.

He decided that he would take Remy upstairs to the bedroom. He remembered Jean had placed a recliner in there as well, and he figured he could handle one night of discomfort. He stood up with Remy in his arms. It shocked him how light the Cajun was. He had to fight back the tears that sprang to his eyes as he looked down at the figure huddled against his chest. The pained and hollow expression on the sleeping face was devastating to Hank. How could they have laid so much blame and anger on someone so young and tortured?

As he made his way upstairs, Hank mentally drew a timeline of what he knew about Remy's life. The thief had lived on the streets until he was about 10, and then picked the pocket of the man who was to become his adoptive father, the King of the New Orleans's Thieves Guild. He was sure they had taught Remy many valuable skills in that short time, but they didn't teach him the best morals either. And then they banished him when he was 18, for defending himself in a dual to the death, which Remy had won. Hank estimated from past tests and such that Remy was about 21 years old now. Most of the mistakes he had made in the past occurred between the years of 16 to 18. He had joined up with the X-men when he was 19. So that meant that he had been exposed to about two years of possible redemption and hope for a better future. A future where he might be able to focus on growing and not just surviving. And they had quite possible squashed that hope in Antarctica.

Hank bit his lower lip, trying to control his frustration. He really wanted to smash a tree down or something. No one else except Charles knew that he had a tendency to lose control emotionally. It was very similar to the animal rage that could disrupt from Wolverine. But Hank had a complete handle on it. He knew the signs of when it might rear its ugly head, and could fight it back. They only reason Xavier knew about it was that at one point, right after he had mutated to his current blue form, he was practicing in the Danger Room. Xavier was in the control booth, and Hank had been knocked from behind by a robot. He had so much stress piling up on him, and he just lost it, destroying about 10 robots one after the other. Xavier immediately shut down the room, shocked at how Hank had reacted. They talked for hours that night, and Hank had finally admitted that he was so angry, mainly with himself, for what he had become. After Xavier went to bed, Hank had gone back to the control room and watched that scene over, and over, and over. By the end, he resolved that it would never happen again. Every time he felt that rage rise, he played the tape over again in his mind. He would never forgive himself if he lost control like that with an actual human being.

While he was going over all this in his mind, Hank had placed Remy in the bed and made sure he had plenty of blankets on him. He found some more blankets in the linen closet outside the room, and sat back on the large LazyBoy. Actually, it wasn't that bad. After rearranging his large frame a couple of times, he found a comfortable spot and closed his eyes. He needed some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

 

Go on to Part2

Go back to Cajun Turkey