Fic: Trials Unending (10-12/22)
Title: Trials Unending
Author: Faceted Mind
Summary: After his return from Antarctica, Remy's trials are far from over.
For awesome visit:
groups.yahoo.com/group/logan_remy
http://www.squidge.org/~peja/cgi-bin/categories.php?catid=19&parentcatid=19
http://logan-remy.50megs.com/slash_stories_2.htm
Warnings: Slash, mention of child abuse and rape. Occasional medical/pseudoscientific info-blasts which despite researching may or may not be accurate; forgive me anyone who reads and shakes their heads in annoyance, I am no medic. Oh, and a little British spelling, which I'm sure you can forgive me for.
Notes: This is AU for how Remy gets back to the Mansion and in what state. No glowy green ladies here. A variety of Betas have worked on this fic; Cruel Illusion, Ross and "Point me at the coffee" as far as I remember, but I have done work on it since so all mistakes are my own. This was written in 2005/6, so I blame my youth for all rose-tinted-ness, the sequel (2008/9) is more cynical, jaded and tortuous. I've obviously hit my writing's teen-aged years.
Pairing: Future Logan/Remy, but not just yet ;)
Master Post . Chapters 1-3 . Chapters 4-6 . Chapters 7-9 . Chapters 10-12 . Chapters 13-15 . Chapters 16-18 . Chapters 19-22 . An End In Sight
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Chapter 10
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The danger room was empty and silent as the door slid open, allowing in two forms, one standing 6'2", the other only 5'3". They entered, spacing themselves out in the room and began warming up and stretching. After an extensive warm up that was near enough a work out in itself, they turned to the staffs that they had left against one wall.
Remy took the time to get used to the wooden training staff - heavier than the adamantium retractable one he used in real fights. It reached six foot and four inches, just a little longer than the standard length to account for his height. Logan's staff was shorter and lightly tapered at each end to fit her own personal style.
Remy span the staff lightly in his hands, feeling his fingers complain softly at the unexpected and strenuous use. When he had stretched in all directions he began a warm up, spinning the staff heavily around his shoulders and waist, slowly speeding up as he got used to the weight in his hands. A tightness across his shoulders eased after a few circuits and he stepped up the pace, still nowhere near his usual speed, but not wanting to rush things. His hands began throbbing heavily and he brought himself to a stop, letting the staff finish its rotation and extend behind him in his right hand. He grinned to himself as he realised he was waiting for the soft 'swish' of his coat following the momentum to a rest around the staff. He was such an exhibitionist sometimes. Ok, all the time.
Logan had kept up with him up until the point at which he'd stopped and continued on to higher speeds, only now finishing with a wide sweep that caused the whole staff to thrum through the air. He grinned wider.
"Kata?" He asked, giving Logan the opportunity to choose the next form of the exercise.
"Are ya sure yer up fer this?" he asked, uncertain.
"We take it slow, neh?" Remy grinned, shrugging fluidly as he brought the staff to rest across his shoulders.
"Ok then, Urashi." Logan named the kata that they would follow.
Remy grinned, Logan had chosen one of the less strenuous Katas. But still, perhaps it was better for him right now. Shishi No Kun, his favourite, was 130 techniques long and possibly a little too much for him right now. Nodding his approval he took up the starting stance.
"Your show, cher."
"Hajime." Logan called after a moment relaxing into the stance. They bowed, and called the name of the kata in respect before taking a deep breath. He'd missed this. The pause before movement. The peace before the storm.
In the movements that followed there was little thought, only the memory of a dance practised so many times that no one movement could be picked out of the flow. The pauses - as important as the movements themselves - were held for merely a breath before the next movement followed. He fell into the last movement and there was silence as he waited for the call to finish.
"Yame." came the call to end.
He relaxed, pulling himself upright into ready stance, feeling the energising pulse of exercise tip to toe. Oh yes, it was good to be back.
-,., -
"Ah'm home!" Rogue called brightly through the house. Ororo stepped out of the kitchen, hands still covered in soap-bubbles from the washing up she had been doing, her face grim.
"You are not welcome here, Rogue. You have no idea what pain you've caused." Rogue's smile drooped.
"Everyone was agreeing with mah decision last time Ah was here."
"The decision to leave my brother behind on that ice?" Storm nearly spat.
"I *thought* he was already dead!" She stormed, facing down the weather witch.
"Was that *while* you were carrying him through the air, or *after* you dropped him."
"I… I never carried him anywhere…" A look of confusion set in on Rogue's face, and Storn began feeling the first stirrings of doubt. "He was thrown from the building in that blast. He was just lying there in the snow…" Pity rose up in Storm like a flower blooming, and she was suddenly angry at Remy. *lies? deceit?* Had he been lying to them all? *DECEIT* A whisper of hate. Just enough to spark the flame.
"He's been manipulating us! It's that empathy of his… manipulating…" Lost in her own thoughts, emotions conflicting and confused, Ororo wandered away.
-,., -
Rogue stopped in the hallway on the way to Remy's room, face to face with Betsy. She had already come across Hank and Bobby, and they had been as easy to divert as Ororo had been. Warren she hadn't needed to say anything, he had all but welcomed into the house with open arms. Scott and Jean had been together and that had made her task more difficult, but he had left Scott watching over his wife's unconscious form, Remy's blame firmly ingrained in his mind.
"Oh, Betsy." she greeted. "I missed you! Ah had ta get away from everything, when I thought Remy had died… I thought I was gonna die mahself." She put on a pitiful look and let pity seep into the front of her mine. "I saw him thrown from the wreckage and…"
"Those powers aren't yours, Rogue." Betsy interrupted blandly. "You shouldn't have them."
"I don't *want* them!" Rogue cried wildly, grabbing hold of Betsy's shirt and throwing her into the wall. "It's his fault they're here." She turned to walk away, thinking Betsy incapacitated.
"That wasn't very nice, Rogue." She whirled at Betsy's voice at her back. "I always knew you were going to break one day." She sighed. Rogue stepped forwards with a feral grin that Logan would have envied, no longer masking and distorting her emotions.
"Remy dreamt about doing this to yah, once."
"Doing wh…" The purple haired mutant dropped to her knees, her head thrown back and her mouth open in a silent scream.
-,., -
"Remy, Hank wants you in the Medilab." Jean's voice echoed over the intercom of the danger room, clicking off before he could reply.
He stretched his hands slowly as he wandered out of the danger room, feeling the extra twinge in his right that reminded him that it was only just healed. Using carefully measured footsteps, he knew when he came level with Hank's door and reached out to find the doorframe under his hand. The first few times he'd done this he'd been so sure of his knowledge of the lower levels of the house that he hadn't bothered to reach for the doorframe first, just tried to walk through it. He quickly learned that one's pace is never exactly same length as the time before, and a small difference could mean the world of pain and embarrassment. He wasn't quite sure which one he hated more.
"Henri?" He asked as he walked inside. Silence answered him. "Doc?" When there was still no reply he settled down in a chair to wait for the doctor, knowing he was probably caught up on the upper levels of the house.
Bored after a few long minutes, Remy went searching for the finger strength exerciser that Hank used to judge his progress. It consisted of two bars with thick springs between them that you had to push together in the palm of your hand.
He grabbed a metal table with a tray on top of it quickly as he knocked into it, stopping it from rattling to the ground and righting it carefully. He had his own in his room, but he couldn't be bothered to go all the way upstairs to get it. There was also the knowledge that the mansion would be at its busiest at this time of day and he had been avoiding the others as best he could for the last few weeks.
He swore as his knees hit the mechanisms of a medical bed and turned to put his back to it, thinking through the layout of the lab and where the exerciser had been last time he was here. He'd been playing with it while he sat on the bed and Hank took his blood pressure…
He sat down on the bed to jog his memory. Hank had taken it off of him and there had been a metallic noise as he put it down… Sliding back off the bed, Remy reached out for the tray he had knocked earlier. He put his hand on the top carefully, aware that there might be sharp things on it and tried to identify what was under his hand. Stethoscope, blood pressure cuff, roll of micropore tape, scissors… ah… yes. He grinned as his hand settled on the small device, lifting it off of the table and making his way back into the office and the plastic chair where he had been waiting earlier.
The door to the lift slid open even as he settled into the chair, and he tossed the exerciser on the desk in mock-disgust. Just when he was getting comfy…
He listened for Hank's feet making their way from the lift, even though he knew he'd never be able to hear those silent and padded feet. The medilab was the nearest door to the lift and to the entrance of the corridor to the hanger, to allow the fastest possible treatment for injured cases. He didn't have to wait long before he could feel another person in the room with him. He did have to wait for some response to his presence. Getting impatient, and wondering how Hank had missed him, Remy stood.
"Henri? Jean said y'…"
"Not Hank, sugar. Just me." His eyes automatically snapped up to the position of that voice - a little higher than it should be, she was flying - and he tried to stutter out a reply.
"Roguie… cher. Y' bin gone a while."
"What did they do to yah eyes?"
Mixed emotions flowed through Remy, fighting for precedence. *You* did this to my eyes. *You* did this to me. "Dey're jus' contacts cher. Still me un'erneat'." A gloved hand on his cheek and it took every inch of self-control he had not to flinch away from that touch. Where was Hank?
"What did you do to mah head, Remy?" The tackiness of Rogue's gloves registered suddenly, with that quiet question. The undercurrent of hatred hit Remy like a brick wall, making him stumble back into the chair. He pulled himself back upright, knowing that whatever was happening, he needed to face it on his feet.
"Din't do anyt'in' t' y' head, cher. Got m' shields up strong."
"You gave yourself to me willingly, without any force. You would have given your mind to me a hundred times over. Maybe that's why it stayed." There was desperation in that voice; strangled, panicky desperation.
"What stayed, Cher? Tell me what's wrong and maybe we can fix this."
"Fix it? No, there's no fixing this now. You did this to me, and you have to pay for it. That's all there is!" Rogue's emotions were getting more and more scattered as she fought to get her message across.
"Gently, gently. I don' know what I've done, Rogue. You can't punish me for something I don't know about."
"You LEFT me with it. Haunting me. In my mind."
"I don't…"
"The EMPATHY. It didn't go away! It never goes away…" There were tears in her eyes, and Remy's heart broke for her, remembering when his own power had turned against him.
"You can fight this, Rogue. You can take control. The shields…"
"Don't talk to me about shields. I don't want any pitiful barriers. I want you *out* of my mind." And she was driving a spike into his mind, a vicious empathic spike between his eyes until his thoughts numbed.
She knew where to target, how to breach his shields, how to use dangerously manipulative powers against another. She knew what he had known all his life. His own potential. And she was living it.
Dark, deep, dreadful despair rose up in him, swallowing his heart and tightening his throat.
And she drove it, pushing it higher, harder, faster. Until every moment of darkness he had ever felt, ever harboured, every hidden, gripped at that mind, tearing it apart from the inside. Those shields were strong, so strong, and yet what cannot get in… cannot get out.
Perhaps there was a click. Something… it felt like there should have been some external acknowledgement of the damage that had just been done. Does a tree falling where no one can hear it…
Remy screamed, short and pained, falling to his knees on the cold floor as he gripped at his head and tried to keep the broken thing from exploding out. Awareness closed around him, narrowing down to one point in his mind where he held himself intact. He knew nothing of the grim smile and casual disgust that taunted him, as Rogue turned and left the room, locking the door behind her.
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Chapter 11
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Logan settled back onto the bike with a sigh, wondering if perhaps all this travelling was getting to him. He looked back at the service station he'd just left, and wondered if he shouldn't spend the night. He felt exhausted, not a natural state for the Canadian, and the last few day's events had been a farce.
He'd been called out to New Jersey by someone who claimed they knew him from long ago and was curious why he didn't seem to have aged at all. Seeking questions to his mysterious past he had ridden out to the proposed meeting place without hesitation, only to find a man with a gun waiting for him. If he had been normal he wouldn't have survived the encounter. As it was he was forced to kill the man before he could get any answers from him, just to stop him doing too much damage to the surroundings and the tourists who had been curious as to the cause of all the noise. The healing had taken it out of him more thoroughly than usual, and now he was wondering if his decision to drive home straight away was the right one. The long ride north was not one he was eagerly anticipating.
His mind made up, he unbuckled his saddlebags and headed back towards the station and the attached motel. It wouldn't be five star, but at least he could get back on the road feeling a little refreshed.
Habit made him lock the door to the little motel room behind him and he wandered over to the bed and dumped his bags. He was back at the door before he realised he was feeling uncomfortable, his heart racing as he nearly ripped it open and took deep breaths of the petrol-tainted air.
"What the fuck…" He growled at the empty carpark. What was that? Momentary claustrophobia? Stepping backwards into his room he went to close the door and found he couldn't bring himself to do it. Desperate panic raced through his mind, and he fought to separate it from his own consciousness, finally realising that it had to be Remy's emotions that were leaking into his mind. "What are ya doin' ta me, kid?" He asked himself, knowing that Remy had no way of picking up his thoughts, only his emotions. Leaving the door open he turned back inside and shrank down in the corner, knowing he was playing out his own reactions to the fear that was engulfing his mind and not caring.
Taking deep breaths and calming his own mind in an attempt to transfer that calm down the link, Logan tried to reason out what was going on. Remy often hid more extreme emotions behind a mask of calm - he was finding that out every day, with his mind linked to the Cajun's as it was. The sudden irrational panic could be a symptom of a simpler problem back home that Remy was reacting badly to, the claustrophobia could even have come from his own mind, fuelled by the unfamiliar panic.
A sudden hitched breath as something else hit him, previously masked by the fear and panic that he had soothed away. Pain. Tear-jerking, heart-wrenching pain. He fought to take a full breath as sobs tried to take control of his body, his hands clenching on his upper arms tight enough to bruise, his knuckles white. His claws slowly slid out of his knuckles, and he let the physical pain drain away a little of the mental. Silently, he prayed that Remy wouldn't think of trying something similar. He had no doubts now that the young man was in the right state of mind to try something stupid to relieve his pain.
What the hell was going on back there? Empathy was nothing like telepathy, the shields he had been taught to erect couldn't block this out, and he didn't want to have to drive while this party was going on in his head. He was lucky that he had been here and not driving when it had happened.
Lucky? Or had the tiredness he had been feeling all day been a part of this? He had passed out in the street as soon as the threat had been eliminated. It wasn't unusual for him to black out while he was healing extensive wounds, but he had awoken in such a state of confusion…
There was no time for this. Remy had been handling everything just fine, better than he would in the same situation, Logan was sure. There had to be some external factor.
No time to work it out.
Grabbing his saddlebags, Logan stormed back out to the bike and screeched hell for leather back out onto the road.
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Logan hesitated in the doorway, a familiar scent catching him. Rogue was home. His emotions were immediately divided, as he wondered how he would take her back. He'd learned a lot about the southern gal in the last few weeks that he wasn't sure he ever wanted to know. And how would Remy take her return? He'd be well within his rights to demand that she left and never return after what she had done to him, but Logan knew he would never do that to her. He just wasn't strong enough to be so harsh, and he loved her too much to be angry with her, come hell or… the polar equivalent.
But those emotions he had felt… had they been in reaction to Rogue's return? Somehow panic and outright fear just didn't fit into his view of Remy and Rogue's convoluted relationship, but he'd never had the clearest view of it either. Perhaps he had missed something important. They hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms.
When he stepped into the house he found everyone huddled in the rec. room, and took another moment to judge the situation. Remy was decidedly absent, but he had been keeping himself away from the others for weeks, it was no surprise that this was no different. Jean was sitting in the armchair with Scott on one side and Rogue on the other, looking white and shaken. Hank was pacing a tight line up and down the room, and Ororo looked to be trying to hide in the corner, standing straight and tall but with a decidedly absent look in her eyes. Bobby, Warren and Betsy were also missing from the gathering, but Logan knew that if Bobby wanted to stew over something like all the others were he did it whilst hidden away - anything else would spoil his ever-happy jokester status.
"What happened." He asked, finally stepping into the room. Rogue stood up as everyone else turned to look at Logan blankly.
"When Gambit saw me again he had some kinda breakdown." She told him with a wobbly bottom lip, looking quite pitiful. "He psi-blasted the whole house, poor Jean only just survived it!" Anger rose up in Logan unbidden. He loved Jean, how could Gambit do that!? "We need tah get him outta the house. He doesn't belong here." Rogue turned to the others as she said this, as though rallying support. There was a general affirmative noise, and Logan nodded along. It had to be done. His hatred for Gambit grew. He didn't belong. Jealousy, hatred, spite… He didn't belong.
"I'll do it. I'll get rid of him for ya."
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Filled with the deepest contempt for the man who only hours before he had held much respect for, Wolverine stormed towards the labs where he had been told Gambit was being held. His claws were already extended, and he could sense a beginning of bloodlust, stirred by the hatred that was filling his heart.
Shoving the door so hard that the lock broke, Logan shouldered into the Medilab and came face to face with the object of his hatred. Somehow the scene wasn't quite what he was expecting, and it was that jarring moment of confusion and surprise, that brought him back to his senses.
Instead of being tied down or sedated, Remy was knelt on the ground just inside the door to Hank's office, his head dropped to the ground in front of him as though he were praying. His fists were clasped to his forehead, white knuckled as though trying to hold something in and Logan could see that he was shaking.
The room felt strangely silent - empty - and it wasn't anything to do with the antiseptic smell and recycled air. Slowly Logan realised that it wasn't *noise* he was missing but the empathic presence that had been there in his mind for the last few weeks whenever he was near Remy. That reassuring presence.
He slumped to his knees beside the man, all fight gone out of him. A moment ago he had been out for Remy's blood, and new he was feeling lonely and empty without his presence in his mind. What was this?
He searched for that hatred, that contempt that had filled him only moments ago and found nothing. With a growl he whirled back towards the door. He was being manipulated, and he *knew* it wasn't Remy doing it.
The softest brush on his mind drew Logan back to the crumpled form on the floor, and he gently pulled Remy up and into his lap, his body limp and unresponsive. Chocolate brown eyes were fixed on the ceiling and blinking slowly. With this new view, Logan could see the open cuts and burns that littered Remy's skin, all left untreated and some still bleeding sluggishly. A quick glance around the lab showed the signs of Remy's power raging out of control. Shattered pots and glassware. A nearby metal tray mangled as one part of it tried to explode away from the rest, scattering its contents. There was no way he could have touched everything, he had to have had his spatial sense wide open when whatever this was had hit.
At the call of his name, Remy's head tipped slowly towards Logan, and he whimpered softly, a frown falling into place. He sought the connection he was missing, and smiled as it slowly solidified in his mind. The smile faltered as the emotions being channelled into his mind solidified along with it.
Pain, guilt, sorrow. Guilt… Guilt… The thoughts darkened, like a heart gone black with loneliness. Pain. Sorrow. Guilt.
"What happened, Gambit?" A flare of hurt. Was it his or Remy's? How could he tell anymore? "What did you do?" He pressed, beginning to worry that Rogue had been telling the truth. Indignation, heavy and hurt for a moment, then sorrow and guilt returned. Perhaps Rogue had absorbed him to stop whatever he was doing? The earlier manipulation could have been accidental. Rogue rarely did know how to control another person's power in that short time she possessed it. Fear rose up, thick and cloying in his mind. Was it his own? Was it Remy's? What did it mean? Logan was very quickly remembering why he hated having other people in his head. With a heaviness borne of weighted limbs, Remy looked away from Logan and a deep emptiness opened up in his mind where the empath had been.
"Don't look away. Talk to me."
"He can't." He turned to look at Rogue in the doorway.
"Why not?" An angry demand for the truth. No more mind games. He needed words and facts.
"When he lost control… he did something to himself. We don't know…"
"Hank looked at him yet? He's all scraped up."
"Why should we, if you're going to kill him?" The hatred rose up in him again, in the space that Remy's pain had inhabited only moment before, but he knew it wasn't Remy's emotion, and it certainly wasn't his. Very slowly - like a hand reaching into his mind and pushing the other emotion out, Remy re-emerged and Rogue's interference was thrown from his mind. Rogue staggered back for a minute, the action had obviously been rougher on her end.
"Yah little…" Rogue took a step closer to Remy, face filled with anger.
"Get out." It was a soft growl, but Rogue looked up at him as though he had hit her.
"What do yah…"
"I said get out. Get out of my head, get out of this room, and get the fuck out of this mansion."
"Now see here."
There was a slow and threatening *SKINT*.
"Get out…" He wasn't even shouting yet. "Of my sight. Or else." With Logan you knew that wasn't an idle threat. Rogue ran.
-,., -
"Remy? Gambit, d'ya hear me?" It hadn't taken much to move the limp Cajun onto one of the medical beds - the one that had only lost a pillow in the explosions, the other had lost a supporting bar and would be out of use for a while. Now he was searching desperately for some response.
The Cajun wasn't even responding to his voice now, and once Rogue had left he had found his mind strangely empty once more. "God damnit, talk to me, fuck with my head, I don't care. Just…" Logan looked up as Hank stepped into the room cautiously. "About time. Where the hell have ya been, Blue?"
"I was… what is going on? I thought you were going to get rid of this foul heathen before he did any further damage."
"He didn't damage anythin' but himself, Hank. It's Rogue who's screwin' ya all over. She's got Remy's empathy and she's using it on everyone. Makin' ya think what she wants ya to."
"But…"
"But nothin'. You've never approved of killin', Hank, even when someone deserves it. What's so different now?" Hank looked away for a moment, thinking this over. Logan almost felt guilty as the doctor sank into a chair numbly.
"I… my god… Rogue has…"
"Every single damn one of ya."
"I would have happily murdered him with my own hands…"
"I think she screwed Remy over too." For the first time Hank looked past Logan at Remy.
"Goodness. Let me get my bag."
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Chapter 12
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With everyone finally back on the same page, and in varying stages of anger and disgust at Rogue, Logan made his way back towards the Medilab. He ran into Warren coming out of the lift, his face like fury.
"Where ya goin' Wings?"
"I'm going to track down that bitch and beat her into a bloody pulp." Warren ground out, not even sparing Logan a glance as he pushed past.
"I woulda thought ya'd be happy ta see Remy hurt more. What's changed your tune?"
"Remy? This has got nothing to do with him. Nothing." Warren whirled back on Logan. "Betsy's catatonic. There's nothing Hank can do. She'll either come out of it on her own or she won't. She's worse off because she tried to fight it. Jean trusted Rogue, she didn't fight at all. She's bad enough off, earned herself a month of migraines."
"Ya can't go after her alone. You'll only get yerself hurt."
"Try saying that when it's your lover drooling on the bed, perhaps permanently brain damaged!" The response that jumped into Logan's mouth was not the one he expected, nor one he had ever thought of. It just seemed… right.
"What if it is?" Luckily, Angel was already long out of earshot. Shaking his head to clear his mind of confusing thoughts, Logan continued on to Hank's lab. Ororo was there, holding Remy's hand with a face like an avenging angel. It had taken some effort to stop her going after Rogue as Warren had done, and it was only on the reminder that Remy would need her close that she had agreed and disappeared downstairs to sit with him. Bobby was busy trying to return Hank's lab to some sort of order, digging out undamaged items from the pieces of damaged equipment and putting them aside for cleaning.
"How's he doin', Blue?" Logan asked as he stepped inside. Hank sighed, looking away from the monitor he was attaching Betsy to. He glanced over at the nearby bed that held the Cajun, monitors already decorating his body, weaving around the bandages that covered the explosive damage.
"He continues to be unresponsive to external stimuli. Betsy is much the same. It was the similarity of their symptoms that convinced Warren that this was Rogue's doing, not Remy's." He finished with the lead and switched on the monitor. "Come, if we are to discuss this let us take it outside. I have no way of gauging how conscious they are." They headed for the door quietly, Ororo and Bobby following them out.
"What happened to his eyes?" Logan asked first. Hank looked at Logan, confused before glancing back over at Remy.
"Oh, I was forced to replace the bandages when I removed the contacts." Hank said, realising what Logan meant. "He wasn't blinking, and it would be dangerous to allow his eyes to dry out with contacts in. He didn't respond to the light when the contacts were removed, but I would be loath to cause him pain if he simply cannot react to it."
"Why is his skin so cold?" Ororo asked quietly.
"He expended a lot of energy when he lost control of his kinetic powers. I have him on a glucose IV, his temperature will increase when his body has a chance to burn the sugars."
"Is he… gonna be alright?" Hank thought seriously about his answer before replying.
"Right now I cannot honestly say. I have never studied *empathic* damage to a mind, and it is not the kind of damage that can be seen on a scan or fixed with surgery. We must trust their own minds to work their way through this. When Jean is suitably recovered she has offered her skills in trying to fix what damage has been done, but she will not be able to do that for some time. She was lucky in many ways that she trusted Rogue, else she would most likely be here with them."
"Ya think they might be like this forever?" Bobby asked.
"It's a possibility we must address."
"I…" Logan's words stumbled to a stop. "How did this happen?"
"Rogue's power should not allow her to do this, and Remy shows no sign of a recent use of Rogue's power. His current condition is purely a reaction to the empathic attack. I honestly can't answer that. It seems as if Rogue has kept his power."
"He had hope a few days ago. Real hope. What… what did she do to him?" Ororo was sat in the corner of Hank's office, clinging to a mug of tea and trying to pull herself back together after this latest fall.
"She gave him her darkness. All the shit in her head that she didn't want." Logan answered quietly, thinking of the emotions that he had felt filling Remy's mind.
"You mean… empathically?"
"She *knew* his weaknesses. Like he knew them himself. She knew exactly how to use that power of his for maximum damage. Only difference between the two of them is that Remy would never do that. Not even to someone he hated. Not even to defend himself."
"You think *Remy* was capable of this?" Hank asked, clinging to his own mug and somewhere between horrified and astounded. "Capable of manipulation to this extent?"
"Yeah. And I think there's a good reason why he didn't tell us about it."
"He didn't trust us." Ororo spoke up, her voice full of sorrow.
"*He* didn't trust *us*?" Scott joined the conversation from the doorway, sounding tired and irritable. Jean wasn't sleeping and Scott was being supportive, which meant he wasn't sleeping either.
"Trust is earned. Someone had to trust first." She replied.
"And it should have been us." Logan spoke up. "We had the whole mansion and each other at our backs. There were always at least ten of us against just him. We should have taken the first step."
"By the sounds of it, he could have turned us all even *with* the whole mansion against him." Scott said cynically.
"And *that's* why he couldn't tell us about the power he had. He didn't want to tell us anything that would scare us away from trusting him. Not until we trusted him not to use it against us." Ororo was almost in tears at this realisation of their failure.
"And now Rogue has this power, and she has nothing stopping her from using it."
"That isn't Remy's fault. He has *never* used it against us. Not even to protect himself. He could have manipulated Rogue into taking him back from Antarctica. He could have manipulated us into taking the initiative to trust him. It wouldn't have taken much."
"There's always the possibility that Remy didn't know he had this power, or didn't know how to use it." Hank put forward tentatively.
"He knew. He knew every moment of every day, and it haunted him." Hank was immediately on his feet and rushing to help Betsy into his chair as she wavered in the doorway. She collapsed into the support with relief. "Rogue doesn't have the shielding that Remy has to lock everything in and out where it should be. I saw… things I didn't want to see. He knew exactly what he was capable of, and at times he wanted to use that power - sometimes so badly - but he couldn't do that to another person. I would never have expected him to have that kind of restraint." She half-smiled, her gaze still absent.
"Never mind Remy now, how are you my dear?" Hank pressed, kneeling in front of the woman to check her vitals.
"A little dazed still. Where did Warren go?" Hank glanced up at Logan.
"He went out lookin' fer Rogue. He'll be back soon."
Master Post . Chapters 1-3 . Chapters 4-6 . Chapters 7-9 . Chapters 10-12 . Chapters 13-15 . Chapters 16-18 . Chapters 19-22 . An End In Sight
Author: Faceted Mind
Summary: After his return from Antarctica, Remy's trials are far from over.
For awesome visit:
groups.yahoo.com/group/logan_remy
http://www.squidge.org/~peja/cgi-bin/categories.php?catid=19&parentcatid=19
http://logan-remy.50megs.com/slash_stories_2.htm
Warnings: Slash, mention of child abuse and rape. Occasional medical/pseudoscientific info-blasts which despite researching may or may not be accurate; forgive me anyone who reads and shakes their heads in annoyance, I am no medic. Oh, and a little British spelling, which I'm sure you can forgive me for.
Notes: This is AU for how Remy gets back to the Mansion and in what state. No glowy green ladies here. A variety of Betas have worked on this fic; Cruel Illusion, Ross and "Point me at the coffee" as far as I remember, but I have done work on it since so all mistakes are my own. This was written in 2005/6, so I blame my youth for all rose-tinted-ness, the sequel (2008/9) is more cynical, jaded and tortuous. I've obviously hit my writing's teen-aged years.
Pairing: Future Logan/Remy, but not just yet ;)
Master Post . Chapters 1-3 . Chapters 4-6 . Chapters 7-9 . Chapters 10-12 . Chapters 13-15 . Chapters 16-18 . Chapters 19-22 . An End In Sight
-,., -
Chapter 10
-,., -
The danger room was empty and silent as the door slid open, allowing in two forms, one standing 6'2", the other only 5'3". They entered, spacing themselves out in the room and began warming up and stretching. After an extensive warm up that was near enough a work out in itself, they turned to the staffs that they had left against one wall.
Remy took the time to get used to the wooden training staff - heavier than the adamantium retractable one he used in real fights. It reached six foot and four inches, just a little longer than the standard length to account for his height. Logan's staff was shorter and lightly tapered at each end to fit her own personal style.
Remy span the staff lightly in his hands, feeling his fingers complain softly at the unexpected and strenuous use. When he had stretched in all directions he began a warm up, spinning the staff heavily around his shoulders and waist, slowly speeding up as he got used to the weight in his hands. A tightness across his shoulders eased after a few circuits and he stepped up the pace, still nowhere near his usual speed, but not wanting to rush things. His hands began throbbing heavily and he brought himself to a stop, letting the staff finish its rotation and extend behind him in his right hand. He grinned to himself as he realised he was waiting for the soft 'swish' of his coat following the momentum to a rest around the staff. He was such an exhibitionist sometimes. Ok, all the time.
Logan had kept up with him up until the point at which he'd stopped and continued on to higher speeds, only now finishing with a wide sweep that caused the whole staff to thrum through the air. He grinned wider.
"Kata?" He asked, giving Logan the opportunity to choose the next form of the exercise.
"Are ya sure yer up fer this?" he asked, uncertain.
"We take it slow, neh?" Remy grinned, shrugging fluidly as he brought the staff to rest across his shoulders.
"Ok then, Urashi." Logan named the kata that they would follow.
Remy grinned, Logan had chosen one of the less strenuous Katas. But still, perhaps it was better for him right now. Shishi No Kun, his favourite, was 130 techniques long and possibly a little too much for him right now. Nodding his approval he took up the starting stance.
"Your show, cher."
"Hajime." Logan called after a moment relaxing into the stance. They bowed, and called the name of the kata in respect before taking a deep breath. He'd missed this. The pause before movement. The peace before the storm.
In the movements that followed there was little thought, only the memory of a dance practised so many times that no one movement could be picked out of the flow. The pauses - as important as the movements themselves - were held for merely a breath before the next movement followed. He fell into the last movement and there was silence as he waited for the call to finish.
"Yame." came the call to end.
He relaxed, pulling himself upright into ready stance, feeling the energising pulse of exercise tip to toe. Oh yes, it was good to be back.
-,., -
"Ah'm home!" Rogue called brightly through the house. Ororo stepped out of the kitchen, hands still covered in soap-bubbles from the washing up she had been doing, her face grim.
"You are not welcome here, Rogue. You have no idea what pain you've caused." Rogue's smile drooped.
"Everyone was agreeing with mah decision last time Ah was here."
"The decision to leave my brother behind on that ice?" Storm nearly spat.
"I *thought* he was already dead!" She stormed, facing down the weather witch.
"Was that *while* you were carrying him through the air, or *after* you dropped him."
"I… I never carried him anywhere…" A look of confusion set in on Rogue's face, and Storn began feeling the first stirrings of doubt. "He was thrown from the building in that blast. He was just lying there in the snow…" Pity rose up in Storm like a flower blooming, and she was suddenly angry at Remy. *lies? deceit?* Had he been lying to them all? *DECEIT* A whisper of hate. Just enough to spark the flame.
"He's been manipulating us! It's that empathy of his… manipulating…" Lost in her own thoughts, emotions conflicting and confused, Ororo wandered away.
-,., -
Rogue stopped in the hallway on the way to Remy's room, face to face with Betsy. She had already come across Hank and Bobby, and they had been as easy to divert as Ororo had been. Warren she hadn't needed to say anything, he had all but welcomed into the house with open arms. Scott and Jean had been together and that had made her task more difficult, but he had left Scott watching over his wife's unconscious form, Remy's blame firmly ingrained in his mind.
"Oh, Betsy." she greeted. "I missed you! Ah had ta get away from everything, when I thought Remy had died… I thought I was gonna die mahself." She put on a pitiful look and let pity seep into the front of her mine. "I saw him thrown from the wreckage and…"
"Those powers aren't yours, Rogue." Betsy interrupted blandly. "You shouldn't have them."
"I don't *want* them!" Rogue cried wildly, grabbing hold of Betsy's shirt and throwing her into the wall. "It's his fault they're here." She turned to walk away, thinking Betsy incapacitated.
"That wasn't very nice, Rogue." She whirled at Betsy's voice at her back. "I always knew you were going to break one day." She sighed. Rogue stepped forwards with a feral grin that Logan would have envied, no longer masking and distorting her emotions.
"Remy dreamt about doing this to yah, once."
"Doing wh…" The purple haired mutant dropped to her knees, her head thrown back and her mouth open in a silent scream.
-,., -
"Remy, Hank wants you in the Medilab." Jean's voice echoed over the intercom of the danger room, clicking off before he could reply.
He stretched his hands slowly as he wandered out of the danger room, feeling the extra twinge in his right that reminded him that it was only just healed. Using carefully measured footsteps, he knew when he came level with Hank's door and reached out to find the doorframe under his hand. The first few times he'd done this he'd been so sure of his knowledge of the lower levels of the house that he hadn't bothered to reach for the doorframe first, just tried to walk through it. He quickly learned that one's pace is never exactly same length as the time before, and a small difference could mean the world of pain and embarrassment. He wasn't quite sure which one he hated more.
"Henri?" He asked as he walked inside. Silence answered him. "Doc?" When there was still no reply he settled down in a chair to wait for the doctor, knowing he was probably caught up on the upper levels of the house.
Bored after a few long minutes, Remy went searching for the finger strength exerciser that Hank used to judge his progress. It consisted of two bars with thick springs between them that you had to push together in the palm of your hand.
He grabbed a metal table with a tray on top of it quickly as he knocked into it, stopping it from rattling to the ground and righting it carefully. He had his own in his room, but he couldn't be bothered to go all the way upstairs to get it. There was also the knowledge that the mansion would be at its busiest at this time of day and he had been avoiding the others as best he could for the last few weeks.
He swore as his knees hit the mechanisms of a medical bed and turned to put his back to it, thinking through the layout of the lab and where the exerciser had been last time he was here. He'd been playing with it while he sat on the bed and Hank took his blood pressure…
He sat down on the bed to jog his memory. Hank had taken it off of him and there had been a metallic noise as he put it down… Sliding back off the bed, Remy reached out for the tray he had knocked earlier. He put his hand on the top carefully, aware that there might be sharp things on it and tried to identify what was under his hand. Stethoscope, blood pressure cuff, roll of micropore tape, scissors… ah… yes. He grinned as his hand settled on the small device, lifting it off of the table and making his way back into the office and the plastic chair where he had been waiting earlier.
The door to the lift slid open even as he settled into the chair, and he tossed the exerciser on the desk in mock-disgust. Just when he was getting comfy…
He listened for Hank's feet making their way from the lift, even though he knew he'd never be able to hear those silent and padded feet. The medilab was the nearest door to the lift and to the entrance of the corridor to the hanger, to allow the fastest possible treatment for injured cases. He didn't have to wait long before he could feel another person in the room with him. He did have to wait for some response to his presence. Getting impatient, and wondering how Hank had missed him, Remy stood.
"Henri? Jean said y'…"
"Not Hank, sugar. Just me." His eyes automatically snapped up to the position of that voice - a little higher than it should be, she was flying - and he tried to stutter out a reply.
"Roguie… cher. Y' bin gone a while."
"What did they do to yah eyes?"
Mixed emotions flowed through Remy, fighting for precedence. *You* did this to my eyes. *You* did this to me. "Dey're jus' contacts cher. Still me un'erneat'." A gloved hand on his cheek and it took every inch of self-control he had not to flinch away from that touch. Where was Hank?
"What did you do to mah head, Remy?" The tackiness of Rogue's gloves registered suddenly, with that quiet question. The undercurrent of hatred hit Remy like a brick wall, making him stumble back into the chair. He pulled himself back upright, knowing that whatever was happening, he needed to face it on his feet.
"Din't do anyt'in' t' y' head, cher. Got m' shields up strong."
"You gave yourself to me willingly, without any force. You would have given your mind to me a hundred times over. Maybe that's why it stayed." There was desperation in that voice; strangled, panicky desperation.
"What stayed, Cher? Tell me what's wrong and maybe we can fix this."
"Fix it? No, there's no fixing this now. You did this to me, and you have to pay for it. That's all there is!" Rogue's emotions were getting more and more scattered as she fought to get her message across.
"Gently, gently. I don' know what I've done, Rogue. You can't punish me for something I don't know about."
"You LEFT me with it. Haunting me. In my mind."
"I don't…"
"The EMPATHY. It didn't go away! It never goes away…" There were tears in her eyes, and Remy's heart broke for her, remembering when his own power had turned against him.
"You can fight this, Rogue. You can take control. The shields…"
"Don't talk to me about shields. I don't want any pitiful barriers. I want you *out* of my mind." And she was driving a spike into his mind, a vicious empathic spike between his eyes until his thoughts numbed.
She knew where to target, how to breach his shields, how to use dangerously manipulative powers against another. She knew what he had known all his life. His own potential. And she was living it.
Dark, deep, dreadful despair rose up in him, swallowing his heart and tightening his throat.
And she drove it, pushing it higher, harder, faster. Until every moment of darkness he had ever felt, ever harboured, every hidden, gripped at that mind, tearing it apart from the inside. Those shields were strong, so strong, and yet what cannot get in… cannot get out.
Perhaps there was a click. Something… it felt like there should have been some external acknowledgement of the damage that had just been done. Does a tree falling where no one can hear it…
Remy screamed, short and pained, falling to his knees on the cold floor as he gripped at his head and tried to keep the broken thing from exploding out. Awareness closed around him, narrowing down to one point in his mind where he held himself intact. He knew nothing of the grim smile and casual disgust that taunted him, as Rogue turned and left the room, locking the door behind her.
-,., -
Chapter 11
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Logan settled back onto the bike with a sigh, wondering if perhaps all this travelling was getting to him. He looked back at the service station he'd just left, and wondered if he shouldn't spend the night. He felt exhausted, not a natural state for the Canadian, and the last few day's events had been a farce.
He'd been called out to New Jersey by someone who claimed they knew him from long ago and was curious why he didn't seem to have aged at all. Seeking questions to his mysterious past he had ridden out to the proposed meeting place without hesitation, only to find a man with a gun waiting for him. If he had been normal he wouldn't have survived the encounter. As it was he was forced to kill the man before he could get any answers from him, just to stop him doing too much damage to the surroundings and the tourists who had been curious as to the cause of all the noise. The healing had taken it out of him more thoroughly than usual, and now he was wondering if his decision to drive home straight away was the right one. The long ride north was not one he was eagerly anticipating.
His mind made up, he unbuckled his saddlebags and headed back towards the station and the attached motel. It wouldn't be five star, but at least he could get back on the road feeling a little refreshed.
Habit made him lock the door to the little motel room behind him and he wandered over to the bed and dumped his bags. He was back at the door before he realised he was feeling uncomfortable, his heart racing as he nearly ripped it open and took deep breaths of the petrol-tainted air.
"What the fuck…" He growled at the empty carpark. What was that? Momentary claustrophobia? Stepping backwards into his room he went to close the door and found he couldn't bring himself to do it. Desperate panic raced through his mind, and he fought to separate it from his own consciousness, finally realising that it had to be Remy's emotions that were leaking into his mind. "What are ya doin' ta me, kid?" He asked himself, knowing that Remy had no way of picking up his thoughts, only his emotions. Leaving the door open he turned back inside and shrank down in the corner, knowing he was playing out his own reactions to the fear that was engulfing his mind and not caring.
Taking deep breaths and calming his own mind in an attempt to transfer that calm down the link, Logan tried to reason out what was going on. Remy often hid more extreme emotions behind a mask of calm - he was finding that out every day, with his mind linked to the Cajun's as it was. The sudden irrational panic could be a symptom of a simpler problem back home that Remy was reacting badly to, the claustrophobia could even have come from his own mind, fuelled by the unfamiliar panic.
A sudden hitched breath as something else hit him, previously masked by the fear and panic that he had soothed away. Pain. Tear-jerking, heart-wrenching pain. He fought to take a full breath as sobs tried to take control of his body, his hands clenching on his upper arms tight enough to bruise, his knuckles white. His claws slowly slid out of his knuckles, and he let the physical pain drain away a little of the mental. Silently, he prayed that Remy wouldn't think of trying something similar. He had no doubts now that the young man was in the right state of mind to try something stupid to relieve his pain.
What the hell was going on back there? Empathy was nothing like telepathy, the shields he had been taught to erect couldn't block this out, and he didn't want to have to drive while this party was going on in his head. He was lucky that he had been here and not driving when it had happened.
Lucky? Or had the tiredness he had been feeling all day been a part of this? He had passed out in the street as soon as the threat had been eliminated. It wasn't unusual for him to black out while he was healing extensive wounds, but he had awoken in such a state of confusion…
There was no time for this. Remy had been handling everything just fine, better than he would in the same situation, Logan was sure. There had to be some external factor.
No time to work it out.
Grabbing his saddlebags, Logan stormed back out to the bike and screeched hell for leather back out onto the road.
-,., -
Logan hesitated in the doorway, a familiar scent catching him. Rogue was home. His emotions were immediately divided, as he wondered how he would take her back. He'd learned a lot about the southern gal in the last few weeks that he wasn't sure he ever wanted to know. And how would Remy take her return? He'd be well within his rights to demand that she left and never return after what she had done to him, but Logan knew he would never do that to her. He just wasn't strong enough to be so harsh, and he loved her too much to be angry with her, come hell or… the polar equivalent.
But those emotions he had felt… had they been in reaction to Rogue's return? Somehow panic and outright fear just didn't fit into his view of Remy and Rogue's convoluted relationship, but he'd never had the clearest view of it either. Perhaps he had missed something important. They hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms.
When he stepped into the house he found everyone huddled in the rec. room, and took another moment to judge the situation. Remy was decidedly absent, but he had been keeping himself away from the others for weeks, it was no surprise that this was no different. Jean was sitting in the armchair with Scott on one side and Rogue on the other, looking white and shaken. Hank was pacing a tight line up and down the room, and Ororo looked to be trying to hide in the corner, standing straight and tall but with a decidedly absent look in her eyes. Bobby, Warren and Betsy were also missing from the gathering, but Logan knew that if Bobby wanted to stew over something like all the others were he did it whilst hidden away - anything else would spoil his ever-happy jokester status.
"What happened." He asked, finally stepping into the room. Rogue stood up as everyone else turned to look at Logan blankly.
"When Gambit saw me again he had some kinda breakdown." She told him with a wobbly bottom lip, looking quite pitiful. "He psi-blasted the whole house, poor Jean only just survived it!" Anger rose up in Logan unbidden. He loved Jean, how could Gambit do that!? "We need tah get him outta the house. He doesn't belong here." Rogue turned to the others as she said this, as though rallying support. There was a general affirmative noise, and Logan nodded along. It had to be done. His hatred for Gambit grew. He didn't belong. Jealousy, hatred, spite… He didn't belong.
"I'll do it. I'll get rid of him for ya."
-,., -
Filled with the deepest contempt for the man who only hours before he had held much respect for, Wolverine stormed towards the labs where he had been told Gambit was being held. His claws were already extended, and he could sense a beginning of bloodlust, stirred by the hatred that was filling his heart.
Shoving the door so hard that the lock broke, Logan shouldered into the Medilab and came face to face with the object of his hatred. Somehow the scene wasn't quite what he was expecting, and it was that jarring moment of confusion and surprise, that brought him back to his senses.
Instead of being tied down or sedated, Remy was knelt on the ground just inside the door to Hank's office, his head dropped to the ground in front of him as though he were praying. His fists were clasped to his forehead, white knuckled as though trying to hold something in and Logan could see that he was shaking.
The room felt strangely silent - empty - and it wasn't anything to do with the antiseptic smell and recycled air. Slowly Logan realised that it wasn't *noise* he was missing but the empathic presence that had been there in his mind for the last few weeks whenever he was near Remy. That reassuring presence.
He slumped to his knees beside the man, all fight gone out of him. A moment ago he had been out for Remy's blood, and new he was feeling lonely and empty without his presence in his mind. What was this?
He searched for that hatred, that contempt that had filled him only moments ago and found nothing. With a growl he whirled back towards the door. He was being manipulated, and he *knew* it wasn't Remy doing it.
The softest brush on his mind drew Logan back to the crumpled form on the floor, and he gently pulled Remy up and into his lap, his body limp and unresponsive. Chocolate brown eyes were fixed on the ceiling and blinking slowly. With this new view, Logan could see the open cuts and burns that littered Remy's skin, all left untreated and some still bleeding sluggishly. A quick glance around the lab showed the signs of Remy's power raging out of control. Shattered pots and glassware. A nearby metal tray mangled as one part of it tried to explode away from the rest, scattering its contents. There was no way he could have touched everything, he had to have had his spatial sense wide open when whatever this was had hit.
At the call of his name, Remy's head tipped slowly towards Logan, and he whimpered softly, a frown falling into place. He sought the connection he was missing, and smiled as it slowly solidified in his mind. The smile faltered as the emotions being channelled into his mind solidified along with it.
Pain, guilt, sorrow. Guilt… Guilt… The thoughts darkened, like a heart gone black with loneliness. Pain. Sorrow. Guilt.
"What happened, Gambit?" A flare of hurt. Was it his or Remy's? How could he tell anymore? "What did you do?" He pressed, beginning to worry that Rogue had been telling the truth. Indignation, heavy and hurt for a moment, then sorrow and guilt returned. Perhaps Rogue had absorbed him to stop whatever he was doing? The earlier manipulation could have been accidental. Rogue rarely did know how to control another person's power in that short time she possessed it. Fear rose up, thick and cloying in his mind. Was it his own? Was it Remy's? What did it mean? Logan was very quickly remembering why he hated having other people in his head. With a heaviness borne of weighted limbs, Remy looked away from Logan and a deep emptiness opened up in his mind where the empath had been.
"Don't look away. Talk to me."
"He can't." He turned to look at Rogue in the doorway.
"Why not?" An angry demand for the truth. No more mind games. He needed words and facts.
"When he lost control… he did something to himself. We don't know…"
"Hank looked at him yet? He's all scraped up."
"Why should we, if you're going to kill him?" The hatred rose up in him again, in the space that Remy's pain had inhabited only moment before, but he knew it wasn't Remy's emotion, and it certainly wasn't his. Very slowly - like a hand reaching into his mind and pushing the other emotion out, Remy re-emerged and Rogue's interference was thrown from his mind. Rogue staggered back for a minute, the action had obviously been rougher on her end.
"Yah little…" Rogue took a step closer to Remy, face filled with anger.
"Get out." It was a soft growl, but Rogue looked up at him as though he had hit her.
"What do yah…"
"I said get out. Get out of my head, get out of this room, and get the fuck out of this mansion."
"Now see here."
There was a slow and threatening *SKINT*.
"Get out…" He wasn't even shouting yet. "Of my sight. Or else." With Logan you knew that wasn't an idle threat. Rogue ran.
-,., -
"Remy? Gambit, d'ya hear me?" It hadn't taken much to move the limp Cajun onto one of the medical beds - the one that had only lost a pillow in the explosions, the other had lost a supporting bar and would be out of use for a while. Now he was searching desperately for some response.
The Cajun wasn't even responding to his voice now, and once Rogue had left he had found his mind strangely empty once more. "God damnit, talk to me, fuck with my head, I don't care. Just…" Logan looked up as Hank stepped into the room cautiously. "About time. Where the hell have ya been, Blue?"
"I was… what is going on? I thought you were going to get rid of this foul heathen before he did any further damage."
"He didn't damage anythin' but himself, Hank. It's Rogue who's screwin' ya all over. She's got Remy's empathy and she's using it on everyone. Makin' ya think what she wants ya to."
"But…"
"But nothin'. You've never approved of killin', Hank, even when someone deserves it. What's so different now?" Hank looked away for a moment, thinking this over. Logan almost felt guilty as the doctor sank into a chair numbly.
"I… my god… Rogue has…"
"Every single damn one of ya."
"I would have happily murdered him with my own hands…"
"I think she screwed Remy over too." For the first time Hank looked past Logan at Remy.
"Goodness. Let me get my bag."
-,., -
Chapter 12
-,., -
With everyone finally back on the same page, and in varying stages of anger and disgust at Rogue, Logan made his way back towards the Medilab. He ran into Warren coming out of the lift, his face like fury.
"Where ya goin' Wings?"
"I'm going to track down that bitch and beat her into a bloody pulp." Warren ground out, not even sparing Logan a glance as he pushed past.
"I woulda thought ya'd be happy ta see Remy hurt more. What's changed your tune?"
"Remy? This has got nothing to do with him. Nothing." Warren whirled back on Logan. "Betsy's catatonic. There's nothing Hank can do. She'll either come out of it on her own or she won't. She's worse off because she tried to fight it. Jean trusted Rogue, she didn't fight at all. She's bad enough off, earned herself a month of migraines."
"Ya can't go after her alone. You'll only get yerself hurt."
"Try saying that when it's your lover drooling on the bed, perhaps permanently brain damaged!" The response that jumped into Logan's mouth was not the one he expected, nor one he had ever thought of. It just seemed… right.
"What if it is?" Luckily, Angel was already long out of earshot. Shaking his head to clear his mind of confusing thoughts, Logan continued on to Hank's lab. Ororo was there, holding Remy's hand with a face like an avenging angel. It had taken some effort to stop her going after Rogue as Warren had done, and it was only on the reminder that Remy would need her close that she had agreed and disappeared downstairs to sit with him. Bobby was busy trying to return Hank's lab to some sort of order, digging out undamaged items from the pieces of damaged equipment and putting them aside for cleaning.
"How's he doin', Blue?" Logan asked as he stepped inside. Hank sighed, looking away from the monitor he was attaching Betsy to. He glanced over at the nearby bed that held the Cajun, monitors already decorating his body, weaving around the bandages that covered the explosive damage.
"He continues to be unresponsive to external stimuli. Betsy is much the same. It was the similarity of their symptoms that convinced Warren that this was Rogue's doing, not Remy's." He finished with the lead and switched on the monitor. "Come, if we are to discuss this let us take it outside. I have no way of gauging how conscious they are." They headed for the door quietly, Ororo and Bobby following them out.
"What happened to his eyes?" Logan asked first. Hank looked at Logan, confused before glancing back over at Remy.
"Oh, I was forced to replace the bandages when I removed the contacts." Hank said, realising what Logan meant. "He wasn't blinking, and it would be dangerous to allow his eyes to dry out with contacts in. He didn't respond to the light when the contacts were removed, but I would be loath to cause him pain if he simply cannot react to it."
"Why is his skin so cold?" Ororo asked quietly.
"He expended a lot of energy when he lost control of his kinetic powers. I have him on a glucose IV, his temperature will increase when his body has a chance to burn the sugars."
"Is he… gonna be alright?" Hank thought seriously about his answer before replying.
"Right now I cannot honestly say. I have never studied *empathic* damage to a mind, and it is not the kind of damage that can be seen on a scan or fixed with surgery. We must trust their own minds to work their way through this. When Jean is suitably recovered she has offered her skills in trying to fix what damage has been done, but she will not be able to do that for some time. She was lucky in many ways that she trusted Rogue, else she would most likely be here with them."
"Ya think they might be like this forever?" Bobby asked.
"It's a possibility we must address."
"I…" Logan's words stumbled to a stop. "How did this happen?"
"Rogue's power should not allow her to do this, and Remy shows no sign of a recent use of Rogue's power. His current condition is purely a reaction to the empathic attack. I honestly can't answer that. It seems as if Rogue has kept his power."
"He had hope a few days ago. Real hope. What… what did she do to him?" Ororo was sat in the corner of Hank's office, clinging to a mug of tea and trying to pull herself back together after this latest fall.
"She gave him her darkness. All the shit in her head that she didn't want." Logan answered quietly, thinking of the emotions that he had felt filling Remy's mind.
"You mean… empathically?"
"She *knew* his weaknesses. Like he knew them himself. She knew exactly how to use that power of his for maximum damage. Only difference between the two of them is that Remy would never do that. Not even to someone he hated. Not even to defend himself."
"You think *Remy* was capable of this?" Hank asked, clinging to his own mug and somewhere between horrified and astounded. "Capable of manipulation to this extent?"
"Yeah. And I think there's a good reason why he didn't tell us about it."
"He didn't trust us." Ororo spoke up, her voice full of sorrow.
"*He* didn't trust *us*?" Scott joined the conversation from the doorway, sounding tired and irritable. Jean wasn't sleeping and Scott was being supportive, which meant he wasn't sleeping either.
"Trust is earned. Someone had to trust first." She replied.
"And it should have been us." Logan spoke up. "We had the whole mansion and each other at our backs. There were always at least ten of us against just him. We should have taken the first step."
"By the sounds of it, he could have turned us all even *with* the whole mansion against him." Scott said cynically.
"And *that's* why he couldn't tell us about the power he had. He didn't want to tell us anything that would scare us away from trusting him. Not until we trusted him not to use it against us." Ororo was almost in tears at this realisation of their failure.
"And now Rogue has this power, and she has nothing stopping her from using it."
"That isn't Remy's fault. He has *never* used it against us. Not even to protect himself. He could have manipulated Rogue into taking him back from Antarctica. He could have manipulated us into taking the initiative to trust him. It wouldn't have taken much."
"There's always the possibility that Remy didn't know he had this power, or didn't know how to use it." Hank put forward tentatively.
"He knew. He knew every moment of every day, and it haunted him." Hank was immediately on his feet and rushing to help Betsy into his chair as she wavered in the doorway. She collapsed into the support with relief. "Rogue doesn't have the shielding that Remy has to lock everything in and out where it should be. I saw… things I didn't want to see. He knew exactly what he was capable of, and at times he wanted to use that power - sometimes so badly - but he couldn't do that to another person. I would never have expected him to have that kind of restraint." She half-smiled, her gaze still absent.
"Never mind Remy now, how are you my dear?" Hank pressed, kneeling in front of the woman to check her vitals.
"A little dazed still. Where did Warren go?" Hank glanced up at Logan.
"He went out lookin' fer Rogue. He'll be back soon."
Master Post . Chapters 1-3 . Chapters 4-6 . Chapters 7-9 . Chapters 10-12 . Chapters 13-15 . Chapters 16-18 . Chapters 19-22 . An End In Sight