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

Notes: Well, I bet ya'll never thought it would happen, huh? A-Bomb finally got her butt in gear and wrote another chapter. What's sad is that it had been so long, even I forgot what the storyline was! That's really sad. But anyway, I finally decided, enough is enough, I need to do something with this story! Unfortunately I don't know what that something is yet.

This chapter is dedicated to all the readers out there who haven't comepletely given up hope that this story would ever continue. I hope there's at least a couple of you still out there. (-;

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Leftovers 3

By A-Bomb

 

Remy woke up at his usual time the next morning. He looked around, confused for a moment as to where he was. It was his old room. He sat up, closing his eyes as the black spots invaded his vision. He had a major headache! It felt like a hangover, except he knew what had happened last night, and it didn't involve alcohol.

"Good morning Remy."

Remy looked over to see Hank sitting in a chair near his bed. He was not up to talking at the moment, so he simply nodded.

Hank sighed. He was going to have to stop sleeping in chairs! His back couldn't handle it. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Remy shrugged. "Feelin' fine."

Okay, Hank thought, he's not a conversationalist in the mornings. Hank desperately wanted to talk about what happened last night, but it was obvious he wouldn't get anywhere at the moment. He stood up and headed toward the door.

"Get a shower, Remy, and then I would like to speak to you downstairs in the professor's study."

With that he shut the door, not giving Remy time to argue. He didn't want to sound so cold, but he was tired of beating around the bush. He hoped Remy would, just this once, work with him. It was the only way he was going to start on the path to healing.

As Hank closed the door, Remy stood up. He blinked back tears. Why am I getting so worked up? Hank just said he wanted to talk. He wasn't even going to make him go to the med lab.

Remy sat back down on the bed, confused at how he was feeling. Hank had been there last night. His knees came up to his chest, and his arms wrapped around them. He started rocking slightly back and forth. He was frustrated by how he had become weak in front of the others. Things were falling apart and any control he had had was slipping through his fingers. His masks were becoming transparent, allowing the others to see his pain.

Remy reached up and grabbed his hair with both hands, continuing the methodic rocking. Hank rocked me. This thought hit him suddenly. What was going on? Why were they not completely disgusted by him? He was a freak! He was sure Scott and Bobby, having seen him so weak, were probably making jokes about him. Warren and Rogue would find out, and tease him and rib him about it. Logan would think he was some kind of weak joke for sure. His head dropped into his hands as a small sob escaped.

After a few moments, Remy pulled himself back together and stood up. He would just have to put on his usual act. The emotions had to go. He had done this enough in the past. He just had to ignore the pain. It was practically an instinct now anyway. He learned from very young that he couldn't show emotions. It only got you hurt in the end. He would just have to keep the others away. Especially Hank. He was too close to the truth.

***

Scott was frustrated. It really annoyed him when he didn't know exactly what was happening in the mansion. When he and Bobby had followed Jean last night, they were shocked to see Remy in the state he was in. He doubted he had ever seen the Cajun even shed a single tear before. After Jean had kicked them out, he was clueless as to what had happened. He and Bobby had come down to the kitchen to wait, and Jean did not come back down for over an hour. When she did come in, she barely said a word. All she wanted to do was go to bed. He held her last night as she cried softly, but wouldn't tell him what was upsetting her.

"That must be a real intrestin' cuppa' coffee you have there, One-eye."

Scott came out of his thoughts and looked up to find Logan at the counter, filling a mug with hot coffee. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

"It's just been a long night, Logan." He sighed and took a long gulp, then cringed as he noticed it was now luke warm. How long had he been sitting there?

Logan noticed the worry and frustration on Scott's face. "What's going on Summers? Is something wrong?"

Scott sighed. "Yeah, but I'm not real sure what. Something happened last night with Remy, but no one has told me anything yet."

Logan's interest perked slightly at this revelation. He hadn't paid much attention to the Cajun since his return from Antarctica. In fact, none of them had. Logan figured Gambit was just hiding for the moment, licking his wounds.

"Whadda ya mean, something happened with Gumbo? Is he okay?" He would admit he had been worried about Remy the past couple of months. The kid never came out of the boathouse unless Scott sent one of them out there to drag him out for a mission or practice. And although he, of all people, could understand the need to be alone sometimes, the Cajun seemed more like he was afraid to be around them. Of course, Remy didn't show it outright. It was more something that Logan could just sense. Like the smell of an animal that knows it's being hunted, followed by an unseen predator.

Scott looked up, and Logan could see genuine concern in his facial expression. "I don't know, Logan. At this point, I think the only ones who know anything are Hank and Jean."

Scott went on to tell Logan what had happened last night. Logan's eyes went wide when Scott told him that Jean revealed that Remy was an empath. But it made perfect sense to him.

When Scott finished, Logan looked down for a moment, comprehending what he had just been told. After a moment, he shook his head and took a large gulp of coffee.

"The kid just never ceases to amaze me."

Scott looked up at Logan. "What do you mean?"

Logan cracked a half smile. "C'mon, Slim, even you should know that Gumbo is more-than-meets-the-eye. How much have any of us ever really learned about him?"

Scott let out a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, and how much has he ever confided in us enough to reveal?" He got up and dumped his coffee in the sink, then reached over and refilled his mug.

Logan sighed and set his empty mug in the sink. "Well, Scott, have we ever really given him a reason to trust us?" With that said, Logan left the room, and Scott sat down with a fresh cup of coffee and new thoughts to mull over in his head.

*** 

*Knock, knock.*

"Come in, Remy..."

Remy sighed and opened the door, quickly closing it behind him. Hank was sitting in one of the large Laz-y-boy chairs in the middle of the study, and he motioned for Remy to have a seat on the couch. Remy tried to relax his muscles, and nonchalantly sat on the end of the couch.

Hank took immediate notice of Remy's body language. He could tell Remy was trying hard to look comfortable, but he still had a nervous air about him.

Hank cleared his throat, hoping he could talk to Remy without getting the Cajun upset. He doubted that would be possible however.

"Remy, I know that this is probably the last thing you want to talk about, but none-the-less, we must address these recent events." Hank watched as Remy's muscles tightened ever so slightly, but his face stayed amazingly neutral.

"As of this moment, Jean and I are the only ones who know what is going on. And I promise you, neither of us will reveal this to the others. I would like to consult with the professor on some of these issues, but I would like your permission first. Is it okay with you if I reveal to the professor what I know?"

Remy continued his blank stare, not saying a word, but nodded his head yes. Hank sighed and went on.

"Thank you for your permission Remy. I do appreciate it."

No response.

Hank cleared his throat. "My next question is... are you keeping anything down besides an apple in the morning?" Hank watched Remy's face twitch at the question, but he did not get an answer. He could tell this was going to be a long morning.

Hank got up and walked over to sit on the other end of the couch. "Remy, please look at me." Hank remembered what he had learned about Remy's empathy in the past couple of days, and gave off as much reassurance as he could.

Remy's face twitched again, and then he brought his eyes up to meet Hank's. Hank smiled inside, glad he was finally getting a response.

"Remy, I need you to understand. I have made a terrible mistake these past couple of months. I was there in Antarctica when that ridiculous farce of a trial occurred. And I left without you, just like the others did. I believed Rogue when she said she tried to save you but wasn't able to. Then you showed back up on our doorstep, and I never questioned how you were doing or what had really happened after we left you with Rogue. I just assumed everything was fine. And I'm sorry for that. I have never thought you guilty for what happened to the Morlocks, and I am sorry for not telling you that as well. I think you have been carrying a huge amount of guilt on your shoulders that doesn't need to be there at all, and I'm so sorry that the X-men, who should be your family, have been creating most of that guilt."

Hank noticed that Remy's face was quickly losing the mask he was trying to hide behind. Tears began building in the corners of his eyes, and at the end of Hank's apology one began to travel down his cheek. Remy quickly reached up and wiped it away.

"Remy, I know you are suffering right now. I also know that you are afraid to reveal it. You have spent probably all your life hiding your emotions to survive. I must say it boggles even my mind how anyone could be that strong. Especially being an empath and having everyone else's emotions constantly pounding you as well."

Hank could tell he was finally breaking down the wall Remy had erected earlier. Tears were beginning to travel down his face, and his body was actually beginning to shake with self-contained sobs.

"Please, Remy, just talk to me. Tell me what you are thinking."

Remy put his head in his hands, trying to calm himself down but not doing a very good job of it. He just shook his head. "I don' know, Hank! I don' know!" His self-contained sobs were no longer self-contained, and he was now openly crying.

Hank reached over and pulled Remy to him, rocking back and forth gently. "Just talk to me, Remy. That's all I want at the moment. I just want you to stop closing up on me."

Remy relaxed slightly in Hank's arms. He was amazed at how warm and comforting it was. His deep sobs slowly calmed down to soft crying.

"I'm scared, Hank." He nestled deeper against Hank's soft fur, hoping Hank wouldn't laugh at him.

Hank just nodded. "That's very understandable, Remy. I would be more surprised if you weren't afraid. A lot has happened to you, and your empathy has become very strong as well. Change can be extremely frightening."

Remy sniffled, wishing he could stop these damn tears! "I don' know, Hank. I've never allowed myself ta be afraid before. I hate de loss of control I have right now. Showing emotion makes ya weak. It opens you ta gettin' hurt." Remy couldn't believe he was telling this to Hank. He had never revealed this much to anyone before. But deep down, it sure did feel good to let it out.

Hank listened to Remy quietly. He could feel anger boiling in the pit of his stomach at how confused Remy was about emotions. He almost sounded brainwashed.

"Where did you learn this fear of emotion from, Remy?"

Remy was quiet for a moment before answering. He shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"Nowhere in particular. Its jus' what I had ta do ta survive growin' up. Ya didn' make yourself vulnerable on de streets, or else you'd be dead at the end of the day. In de Guild, ya had ta always look strong, or else you'd get run over by de ot'ers. Emotion and work could not mix. Especially wit' me, cuz it could cause bad t'ings ta happen if I let myself get distracted. Dat's how I got so good so fast. I quickly learned to disconnect from my feelings."

Remy's stomach turned as he felt anger beginning to radiate from Hank. He immediately began to raise his walls again, trying to keep out the unwanted emotions.

Hank felt the sudden tenseness in Remy, and looked down to see his face become neutral; the famous Remy Lebeau poker face. He realized Remy was attempting to hide behind another wall, and quickly pulled himself together, knowing his anger at what Remy had suffered was radiating to the Cajun now in his lap.

Hank cleared his throat. "Remy, stop trying to pull that wall back up. I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at the ones who made you feel you had to be so afraid of your emotions. I'm angry at the experiences you had to suffer as a child. But rest assured, I am in NO way angry with you."

Remy sat up and looked at Hank desperately. "Why, Hank? I did dis ta myself."

Hank reached out and put his hand on Remy's shoulder, squeezing gently. "No, my friend, you certainly did not. You were trying to survive, but it was others who made you feel this was the only way you could. You were hurt from a very young age, Remy. You only did what you were taught, and you can't be blamed for that."

Remy sighed and shook his head. "I don' know, Hank. Dis is all jus' too much. I'm tired."

Hank looked at Remy and sighed. "I know you are. And I agree, a lot has happened in a very short time. But I won't lie to you; these next few months are going to be quite difficult. I know this probably makes you upset at the moment, but I will not let you slowly die right in front of me. I can't let that happen to anyone, and especially not to someone I care about. Especially someone in my family."

Remy tried to blink back tears unsuccessfully. "I don' wan' ta try an change anyt'ing, Hank. I deserve dis."

Hank shook his head and grabbed Remy gently but firmly by both shoulders, forcing Remy to face him. "Remy, more than anything, you do NOT deserve this. You might think you do, but you are not able to think clearly at the moment. Your mind is starved right now, and no matter how much you want to deny it, you are physically very ill right now. As a doctor, I can assure you of that."

Remy just looked down at the floor, obviously not really believing much of what Hank was saying.

"The first thing I want you to do, Remy, is to strip down to one layer of clothing."

This caught Remy's attention, and his eyes shot back up to glare at Hank. "Why?"

Hank stood up and reached behind the chair he was sitting in earlier, pulling out a scale.

"Because I need to see just how much you weigh, and where to go from there."

Hank set the scale down and turned to Remy, who looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Come on, Remy. We are going to be doing this every two days, so you need to get used to it."

Remy dropped his head, and slowly began shedding 2 layers of clothing. When he got down to a pair of sweatpants, socks, and a t-shirt, he walked over and started to get on the scale. Hank quickly reached out and stopped him, and Remy looked up quizzically.

"Sorry, Remy, but you won't be seeing the results. It will only make things more difficult. Step onto it backwards."

Remy glared at Hank, then conceded and turned around before stepping onto it. Hank looked down and noted the reading, making sure to keep his face neutral, despite the fact that he wanted to cry. 120 pounds? Just several months ago, Remy had weighed in at 175, and he was a lean 175.
Hank nodded at Remy, and Remy stepped off, quickly throwing his clothes back on, as he was already starting to shiver.

When Remy was done dressing, he sat on the end of the couch, looking nervously at the floor. Hank walked over and sat next to him, putting a large furry arm over his shoulders.

"Thanks for letting me check that, Rem. I know all this upsets you. This has been your one form of control that you've felt you have left. And I'm sure you feel like I'm taking it from you. But if you want the truth, you have not been in control of this. It has been in control of you. I just want to see you get your control back. But that won't happen until we get rid of this disorder. Do you understand that?"

All Hank got as an answer was a small shrug.

"Okay. I know you are tired, but I would be real happy if you would just eat a little something and keep it down. Why don't we go to the kitchen and see if there is anything you can eat."

Hank received no response this time, and he could tell Remy was trying to detach himself from the whole situation. Hank knew he was afraid, and was simply using the only defense he knew. Hank stood, pulling Remy up with him. He walked them out of the study and headed toward the kitchen.

***

Logan was walking down the hall to the stairs, heading to his room to dump his bags and then take a walk outside to clear his head after the stuffy airplane ride. He also wanted to process what Scott had told him in the kitchen. Remy was an empath? That actually worried him. Not for his own safety and well-being, but for the Cajun's. If that was true, then the kid was holed up in the boathouse out of sheer pain from all the hurtful emotions being directed at him from the others. Logan shook his head in disgust. How could they have all been so cruel?

As Logan almost reached the staircase, the door to the professor's study opened, and Hank and Remy emerged, the latter looking like he had seen much better days. Logan was most surprised by the puffy eyes that showed signs of crying. He had never even seen the Cajun shed a tear before. What was going on around here?

"Hey Hank, hey Gumbo."

Hank looked over and nodded at Logan, giving him a friendly smile. "Hello, old friend. How was your trip to Japan?" Both Logan and Hank noticed Remy shrinking back behind Hank, almost like he was trying to hide.

Logan followed Hank's lead, and pretended not to notice Remy's odd behavior. Something was definitely wrong.

"It was good. Saw a lot of old friends. It was nice spending time with everyone." Logan leaned back against the banister. "So what's been going on around here?"

Hank shrugged his shoulders. "Not much. I had a wonderful visit with my parents. They are doing quite well. The professor has been at a conference for a couple of days. Same old, same old I suppose."

Logan nodded. "Hey, Cajun, thanks fer all the leftovers. I'll be in hog heaven for awhile."

Logan received a muttered, "Ya welcome", in response.

Logan gave Hank a questioning glance, to which Hank just shook his head slightly.

"Well, I'm gonna go dump these bags in my room and then head outside. It's been a long day. I hate airports."

With that, Logan turned and headed up the stairs. Hank turned to Remy.

"Come on. I'm starving." Hank headed for the kitchen, with Remy trudging behind.

When they got to the kitchen, Scott was sitting at the table, staring blankly into a cup of coffee.

"So, Scott, what worldly secrets is that cup revealing?"

This broke Scott out of his contemplating for the second time that morning. He looked up and nodded a greeting at Hank, and then froze as he noticed Remy there as well.

Remy felt more than saw Scott's shock, and wished he could melt out of the room. He felt like he was suddenly transparent to everyone, like the whole world could see everything about him.

Hank noticed the sudden apprehension in the room, and quickly tried to break the silence.

"Oh, Scott, I almost forgot. The professor should be arriving back at the airport this afternoon. My schedule is fairly full today, and I was wondering if you could pick him up?"

Scott nodded. "Sure, Hank." He could see that Remy was very tense and upset over something, and since he obviously didn't seem to be getting anywhere with his coffee, he decided to go find Jean and talk to her. "Just be sure to give me the flight number and ETA."

Hank smiled. "Of course. Thanks."

After Scott left, Remy went over to the table and nervously sat down.

"Okay, Remy. Do you think you could eat a bowl of oatmeal?" Hank looked at Remy, who just shrugged and continued looking at the floor. Hank sighed and went to the pantry.

"I'll take that as a yes." Hank pulled out a jar of fresh, Irish rolled oats, reached into the fridge for milk and butter, and pulled out a jar of brown sugar from the cupboard. He definitely didn't believe in the one-minute Instant Quaker oats crap. Oatmeal could actually taste very good if it was made right. And he figured it would be easy on Remy's stomach. He didn't want to force a bunch of greasy, fried stuff down his throat. That would do nothing but make Remy extremely sick, and probably freak him out completely.

Hank brought the milk to a slow boil, and added the oats a little at a time, to avoid them clumping together. He added a little salt, and stirred them for a few minutes. After the mixture began to thicken, he stirred in a spoonful of butter and took the pot off the stove, letting it sit for another couple of minutes. He then scooped them two large bowls full, and sprinkled the brown sugar on top.

Hank walked over and set the bowls on the table, one in front of Remy, and one where he would sit.

Hank grabbed two glasses of juice from the fridge, then sat down and began eating. He looked over and noticed Remy had not moved. He was staring glassy-eyed at the bowl in front of him.

"Come on, Remy." Hank reached a hand over and placed it on Remy's shoulder, causing Remy to look up at him. Hank could see the internal struggle in Remy's eyes. Remy looked like he was staring at a bowl of poison.

"Just trust me. I won't give you anything that is going to hurt you. I'm not going to shove a bunch of greasy, fattening foods on you or anything. This will be easy on your stomach, and it's nice and warm as well."

Remy looked back at the bowl in front of him. He was practically salivating from the smell. It looked so good. And warm. But the voice in his head was telling him he couldn't do this. He knew he couldn't keep it down. More than anything, he wanted to binge on four bowls of the stuff.

Exasperated with this internal struggle, Remy jumped to his feet, throwing his chair back.

"I can' do dis, Hank! I'm sorry!" He turned and headed toward the door, trying to separate himself from the whole situation. "I have control over dis. Let me handle it my way."

As Remy ran from the room, Hank sighed. The words from the website he had read earlier continued to circulate in his brain.

The only thing I feel is the loss of control, and anger at you for taking it away.

Hank squeezed the bridge of his nose, completely frustrated by the whole situation. He knew the girl who had written the passage on the website died only a few days afterward. He understood the frustration at the loss of control, but also knew that to save his friend's life, that control HAD to be taken away. Remy was dead set on destroying himself, and if none of them did anything about it soon, Remy would most likely be quite successful.

Hank stood up and rinsed the dishes out. He considered chasing after Remy, but he wasn't going to drag the Cajun back kicking and screaming. At least not right now.

***

Bobby loved this time of year. Early December in New York was so beautiful. The fresh fallen snow and chilled air were truly his element. He had often wondered in the past if he could literally meld into the snow, blowing and swirling into the wind. It might be neat to try sometime, but deep down he wasn't real sure he would ever have that kind of fine-tuned ability. He was just too afraid certain consequences could be irreversible. He really hated being such a coward sometimes. He would have so much more skill if he wasn't so afraid to try new things. Emma had easily proved that not too long ago.

Bobby shook his head and smiled. He sure was getting philosophical in his old age. Bobby's smile grew as he looked around. He was out behind the mansion in the large open field where he and the other four "original X-Men" had spent so many winter days in their teens; sledding, building snow forts, having snowball fights. Those had been great times. He sure did miss that simplicity sometimes. As the team had grown, the times they all spent together as a family had shrunk.

Bobby sat down cross-legged on the side of a small hill and looked back at the mansion. He actually had a good view of most of the estate from here. Off to the side he could see part of the lake and the boathouse.

Seeing the isolated boathouse out there suddenly made him think about Remy and what he had seen yesterday. Images of Remy lying on the floor sobbing in Hank's arms kept bombarding his mind. He honestly couldn't believe what he had seen. He always considered Remy unbreakable. The Cajun never seemed to show any weakness or emotion.

"Hey, Popsicle. How's it goin'?"

Bobby jumped at the sudden interruption, looking up to see Logan standing next to him. He hated it when Logan would sneak up like that.

"Hey, Logan." Bobby turned back around to look at the mansion.

Logan sat down next to Bobby, pulling out one of his favorite Cubans to smoke.

"Everyone sure is doin' a lotta thinkin' around here since I got back." He took a long drag on the cigar, letting the smoke tingle in his lungs for a few moments before exhaling it. "I'm used ta that with Scott, but catching you contemplating the Great Unknown is a surprise."

Bobby glared up at Logan, but Logan just grinned and took another drag on his cigar.

"I do think sometimes, you know," Bobby muttered, half smiling now.

"Coulda fooled me, kid," Logan quipped, then changed to a more serious mood. "Scott told me what happened last night with Remy."

Bobby frowned again and turned his head to looking back at the boathouse. "It was pretty weird seeing him last like that last night. I'm so used to seeing Remy as the smooth, suave, 'my life is perfect' kind of guy. Seeing him look so vulnerable and fragile was just... so..." Bobby shook his head slowly, at a loss of words.

"I know what you're saying, Bobby. I saw him in the hall with Hank earlier, lookin' like he was about to jump out of his skin. He's definitely not the same Gambit we knew before. That whole Antarctica fiasco has hurt him far worse than he's letting on."

Bobby looked back at Logan. "You know, I was so mad at Remy when Warren told me what happened. When Rogue said he had died before she could rescue him, a little part of me was actually happy. All I could think about were all the innocent Morlocks that had been killed, and that Remy might have been the cause of the whole thing. Deep down, I think I knew Remy wasn't responsible for their deaths, but he made a great scapegoat, someone who I could finally put some of my anger and hurt on." Bobby stared into the vast blanket of snow that surrounded them, wondering why he was spilling all his thoughts on Logan.

Finally, he continued. "Now, I think I made a horrible mistake. All that time I spent by my dad's bedside, nursing him back to health, gave me a lot of time to consider everything that might have happened. And all I could come up with at the end were a bunch of questions. What motivation did Remy have for doing that? Did he even have a choice? Sinister has ways of making people do things against their will. And why did he even want Remy there to begin with? Why didn't he just transport the Marauders into the tunnels himself? It just doesn't add up, Logan."

Logan was quiet while Bobby spoke. He had asked himself many of those same questions after hearing about that whole joke of a trial. When Bobby was done, Logan just nodded.

"I agree with what you're sayin', kid. The Cajun's had a lot of bullshit and blame dumped on him that shouldn't be there. All I can say is I hope we get to the bottom of this soon."

Logan stood up. Bobby might relish the cold, but there was only so much he could stand.

"I'm headin' in before I freeze my butt off. I'll see ya later, Popsicle."

After Logan had walked about 50 feet, he felt a cold ball of icy slush pelt him on the backside. He spun around to glare at Bobby, who was on the ground laughing.

"Hey Logan, I think your butt froze more than you realized!"

As soon as he said this, he took off on an ice slide, giving Logan no chance to turn him into ice cubes.

Logan turned back toward the mansion, mumbling about stupid snow and inconsiderate popsicles.

Logan was about halfway between the boathouse and the mansion when he heard the back door slam and someone running down the path toward the boathouse. Logan caught Remy's scent and could hear him breathing erratically, almost like crying. Logan slinked back behind one of the trees along the path.

Remy raced down the path as fast as he could in the cold weather. He had only grabbed a light windbreaker that was hanging near the door, and now he was regretting it. The wind was blowing right through to his bones. It was so cold it hurt. He tried to ignore it. Tried to tell himself that he would be warm again. He knew deep down, he didn't really believe that however. He had never felt warm since Antarctica. Nothing could take the chill out of his bones. And even more so, nothing could fill the emptiness he felt in his heart.

Remy stopped running and dropped to his knees as the overwhelming sobs shook his body. He just didn't know what to do anymore! Everything in his life was a struggle and he was so tired of fighting. He just wanted to give up.

Remy wrapped his arms around his knees and curled into a fetal position. He was numb and couldn't even feel the cold anymore. He just hoped that if he was dying, it would happen soon. He wanted out of this place.

Logan had followed Remy almost a quarter-mile until the kid had collapsed in a heap of sobs. As he approached Remy, the Cajun was curled up in the snow, shaking and crying softly. He could tell Remy was not even aware of his presence. He quickly unzipped his jacket and placed it over Remy's body. He knelt down and took the young Cajun in his arms. He was shocked as he stood back up. The Cajun was as light as a feather! He growled inwardly as he headed the rest of the way to the boathouse.

Logan was relieved to find that no one had locked the front door. He pushed it open and quickly closed it, trying to keep the house as warm as possible. Remy was shivering violently as Logan placed him on the couch. Logan quickly found some blankets to wrap around him, then started a large fire in the fireplace. After he got the fire going, Logan stood up and looked down at Remy. Remy was staring into the fire, but Logan could tell his mind was in a completely different place. Logan walked over and sat down on a chair next to the couch, making sure he was in Remy's field of vision.

After ten minutes of silence, Logan couldn't stand it any longer. "Anything you want to talk about, kiddo?"

Remy finally acknowledged his presence by glancing at him, then shook his head. "Non."

Remy went back to staring at the fire crackling across from him. He wished Logan would leave. He just wanted to wallow in his misery alone. Why was Logan even pretending to care?

After another five minutes of silence, Logan stood up. He had a feeling Remy wasn't going to be initiating any conversation, and he wanted to know what was going on. He could tell from carrying Remy's bony body a few minutes ago that the kid was incredibly underweight. He walked over about two feet from Remy and sat down on the floor.

Remy glared at Logan, somewhat miffed, and changed his view to the floor. He would just ignore Logan until he left.

Logan wasn't going to have any of that though. If the kid didn't want to talk, then he sure as hell would listen.

"Well, kid, I think we do need to talk. Something's going on around here. I get back from my trip to find out you're an empath. And now I find you lying in the freezing cold, sobbing and feeling like you haven't eaten in months. You can't sit there and tell me nothing is going on."

Remy glared at the older man. "I didn't tell ya nothin' was goin' on. I tol' ya I don' wanna talk 'bout it!"

Remy turned himself around on the couch to face away from Logan. Logan wondered if Remy realized how much he was acting like a little kid. He wasn't really upset that Remy didn't want to talk. He was more worried about how sick Remy looked. All he could see was a child wasting away in front of him, obviously crying for help but not knowing how to ask for it.

Logan could hear the quiet sobs Remy was trying to hide from him. It broke his heart to see the boy suffering. Logan sighed and stood up. He sat back down on the edge of the couch and pulled Remy's head into his lap. At this simple show of affection, all of Remy's defenses crashed, and he allowed the sobs to escape.

Logan held Remy as he cried out the pain. He was surprised as the pure emotion battered against his mind, but was well trained in putting up defenses against it. He rubbed small circles on the Cajun's back, a silent reminder that he cared and wasn't going to walk away disgusted from Remy's pain.

After a few minutes, Remy's sobs turned into sniffling hiccups. Logan reached out and brushed some strands of damp hair from Remy's face. "Feel any better?"

All he received as an answer was a small shrug.

Logan sighed. He was unnerved by the fact that Remy had no meat whatsoever on his bones. He had a feeling Remy needed a lot of help, and he had no intentions of walking out on the kid after what he was seeing right now.

Logan stood up, bringing the Cajun up with him in his arms. Remy looked somewhat annoyed.

"Ya know, I can walk, Logan."

Logan grinned. "Coulda fooled me, seein' as how I found ya laying in the snow about ta freeze ta death." Logan pushed the kitchen door open and plopped Remy down in the nearest chair. Remy's whole body seemed to tense the moment they entered the kitchen.

"We need ta get something warm in ya. Does soup sound good?" Logan glanced over at Remy, who looked like he was about to jump out of his skin.

"I be fine, Logan. I'm gonna go take a hot shower. I jus' ate wit' Hank before I headed out here." Remy tried to smile nonchalantly at him, and stood to walk out of the kitchen. Logan wasn't buying it, however.

"That's fine, Rem. But I want ya to come back down here when yer done. I still have some things I want ta talk to ya about."

Remy looked as though he were about to argue, but he figured with Logan, it would be futlile. He nodded and quickly left the room.

As soon as Remy headed upstairs, Logan picked up the cordless phone sitting on the counter and quickly dialed a number.

"MedLab."

"Hey Hank. Got a couple of questions for ya."

 

With my track record, I'm sure you all hate to hear this, but...

 

TBC in Part 4

Go back to Part2