These are the things Remy packed to take up to the cabin with them: warm clothes, and enough food to last through a blizzard, plenty of matches, lots of cards, lots of books. He tried to think of things that Logan might want to have with him as he began to come back to himself, the little knife he used to carve animal figures with? His meditation mat? Remy didn�t know what Logan would want. It seemed he wasn�t as empathetic as he used to be. He smiled, out of habit.
One by one the X-men came to say their goodbyes. There was no grand send off. It would have been irreconcilable with the apparent hopelessness of the trip.
Scott did not come. He and Remy had said their goodbyes, such as they were, the night before, almost silently. There seemed nothing to say between them, certainly nothing that could be said by one that the other could understand.
They did not embrace, but clasped hands like business associates, or politicians. Scott held Remy�s grip a little longer. �I can only hope�� he heard his voice shaking a little. Remy heard it too, but could not understand the reason. �I can only hope that I am not mistaken.� Scott gazed at Remy searchingly for a while, then dropped his eyes. No one could make eye contact with Remy for long.
Hank came by, masking his emotion with efficiency. Antibiotics? Bandages? Did they have enough sedatives for the trip? How about for afterwards?
�We won�t need them.� Said Remy.
�Well take some, just to be sure.� Said Hank, with false bravado. �Here, humor an old man.� Remy didn�t smile.
Then Hank did something very uncharacteristic, he glanced around to make sure no one was watching. He lowered his voice. �Gambit, I wanted to tell you. In the med kit I prepared, you�ll find a small vial, black glass sealed in red wax. It should be plenty, far more than you need, and painless. If things�. Don�t work out. If there really seems to be no cause for hope�. What you said to Scott�I think, many of us feel it would be right to honor Logan�s wishes in this. God forgive me. I don�t know what else I could do.� His voice choked off. He turned away abruptly and left without a farewell.
It was Storm who came out last. She smiled to see the familiar, lithe form packing the rustic camping gear into the back of Logan�s truck.
�Look at you.� She said. �Who would have guessed the little headen would be off for a winter in the wilderness? You think you�ll be able to cope without room service for a whole winter?�
�It won�t be a big deal.� Said Gambit.
Storm looked at the man before her, so like, and utterly unlike her brother in every way. She was suddenly at a loss for words. �You take care to this body, okay?� she tapped him lightly against the jaw. �I�m very attached to it.� Her voice cracked a little. Then she was gone too.
Gambit swung himself up into the cab of the truck, next to the sedated and snoring Wolverine, and began the long drive into the wilderness.
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Wolverine�s old cabin was small, just three rooms, bed, den and kitchen and a small bathroom with shower stall. Gambit had been there once before, when he and Logan had been together. It had been a romantic weekend. He smiled humorlessly. It was difficult to imagine circumstances more different than that now.
Gambit began to unpack. Wolverine stood beside the car growling. �What�s that?� Gambit asked. �Here make yourself useful.� He handed one of the bags to Wolverine to carry inside. Wolverine threw it hard into the trees. �Well at least it wasn�t the bourbon.� said Gambit.
The day dragged on, unloading, unpacking, cooking dinner. It seemed Wolverine attacked him every time Gambit turned his back. They had broken a good third of the furniture in the cabin before dinner the first night.
Gambit sighed. One way or another, this was gong to be ugly. �Hey Logan.� He said. �Come get food.� Wolverine rushed into the kitchen and made to snatch the pot of jumbo off the stove with his bare hand.
Gambit shoved him back. �No way.� He said. �From today you eat like a man. Now sit.� He pointed towards the table in the middle of the room, which had already been set. Wolverine followed his finger with his eyes, but instead of sitting he lunged for Gambit�s throat.
�Uh uh. I told you, I�m de alpha male round here.� He pushed Wolverine towards a chair and ladled some gumbo into the waiting bowl. Wolverine snatched the bowl and ran to squat with in the corner. Gambit retrieved the gumbo and put it back on the table. Wolverine attacked him, landing a blow to the head which made Gambit see stars and sent gumbo flying. Gambit shook his head to clear it and went back over to Wolverine, grabbing the gumbo again, most of which ended up on his shirt. �I feel like de Helen Keller chick.�
Wolverine lunged for the bowl. Gambit put it back on the table. Wolverine made a move to snatch it again and Gambit, ready, caught his wrist and banged it down on the table. �Listen.� He said. �I�m serious, and I got no pity to play on. You gonna eat like a man or you gonna starve like an animal. It�s entirely up to you.�
Wolverine growled. �What was that?� The feral lunged for the bowl. �Right.� Said Gambit, and dumped the bowl into the sink. Wolverine went for the pot on the stove. Gambit got there first and poured that out too. Wolverine howled and went for Gambit throat again, but Gambit was ready this time and sent him back against the wall.
�We�re gonna work out these anger issues you have mon ami.� He said. His stomach growled and he sighed.
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Sleeping logistics would be difficult, Gambit knew. Wolverine would attack him certainly, and though during the day this might not be a problem, he couldn�t very well fend off the feral at night. He also didn�t want to chain the man up again, even to sleep. Half measures wouldn�t get this thing done. Wolverine would have to be treated like a man in full if he were going to have any chance of recovery.
He had decided that he would give Wolverine the bedroom. That way Wolverine could sleep in the trappings of humanity. Gambit slept on the floor and spent the night tossing and turning. Wolverine shredded the bed and then defecated on its remains.
Five days in they hadn�t managed to make much progress. Wolverine had finally decided to resign himself to the inevitable and start eating at the table. As a reward Gambit had allowed him two full meals before he had begun working on the fork. But Wolverine flatly rebelled at eating with anything other than his hands, and even then not especially gracefully.
It was strange to see. Logan had always been the most polite of eaters, a throwback to his time in Japan. Now he sat in his cabin snarling, covered in bits of food while Gambit grabbed a fork and forced it into his hand. Wolverine tried to stab Gambit with the fork. When that didn�t work he threw it across the room. Gambit retrieved it.
�I ain�t da friggin miracle worker.� He grunted, forcing it into Wolverine�s hand again. His stomach growled. Wolverine might be able to afford to miss a few meals, but it was more difficult for Gambit. His ribs were beginning to poke out.
The next day Gambit went to chop fire wood, knowing that it would be better to have a large stockpile built up, in case the winter was a long one. Any wood he cut now would be green and not burn terribly well, but he figured they�d be grateful enough for it in a blizzard.
He chopped wood about 30 feet from the cabin, with a good view of the front door, in case Wolverine took it in his head to leave. But for the whole afternoon he didn�t hear a peep from the other man.
He cut wood until his hands peeled, reveling in the glory of the exercise. Physical pleasure was the only sort he got any more, and not much of that either, since his rigorous conscience wouldn�t let him live like anything other than a monk in his current condition. Some might volunteer for a one night stand, but Gambit suspected even they had no idea how cold sex with someone like him could be.
So he enjoyed the exercise, and enjoyed the entire afternoon free from having to watch Wolverine�s every mood. �Wonder why he�s been so good today.� He muttered. Then Gambit opened the cabin door.
Every single item of food he had brought was spilled out on the floor. Packages were shredded, their contents scattered. What couldn�t be eaten immediately had been poured out in disgust. Piles of flour and oatmeal dotted the floor like little ant hills. He could see long threads of honey and chocolate sauce traced over the furniture.
In the middle of it squatted Wolverine, covered in food and filth, scratching himself. Remy didn�t even sigh. He just got out the broom and started sweeping.
***************************************************
Getting more food was a nightmare. He couldn�t leave Wolverine alone, obviously, so he took him into town. This meant everything he wanted to do, including buying a new bed, took ten times longer than it would have normally. Wolverine spilled things, he broke things (mostly deliberately), he snarled at anyone who came near him, and though Gambit was tolerably certain he could control the man if anything got out of control, it meant he had to watch him every second.
He lost count of the number of stores they had been kicked out of before they had finally collected the supplied they needed and returned to the relative peace of the cabin.
Gambit bunked down in front of the locked pantry door, and wondered what else could go wrong.
The next day Wolverine ran away. He didn�t get far, only about half a mile before Gambit appear before him on the path.
�Going somewhere, cher?�
Wolverine growled.
�What�s that?�
Another growl.
�Hey I don�t think to much of the cabin either, I certainly didn�t buy the piece of crap. But it�s home now.� Wolverine took a swipe at Gambit and there was a brief tussle that ended with Gambit pinning the older man to the ground.
�Right.� He said. �New rule. Every time you pull this shit and I win, you have to do something for me. And this time it�s a shower. You stink.�
Getting Wolverine to shower was somewhat less of a chore than getting him to eat with a fork, but Remy still ended up soaking wet. �Maybe next time you can even do this your self no?� He grunted as he toweled Wolverine off. Wolverine growled. �Yeah, yeah.�
After that, running away, like throwing forks became a daily occurrence. Gambit always caught him in time, brought him back to the cabin, kept an eye on him. He suspected it was a good thing he was immune to boredom.
Three weeks later, after countless attacks, thrown plates, bruises, growls, tantrums, Wolverine sat himself dawn at the table and calmly picked up his fork, watching Gambit expectantly waiting for the food. Gambit almost smiled.
There were other little signs that they were making progress. Wolverine attacked him less frequently. He grew less violent at being forced into the shower. He ran away less. He even helped Gambit chop fire wood, if you considered attacking standing trees, slicing at them until they toppled helping.
Gambit let him do it, figuring it was a good way for him to work off energy. Hopefully the parks service would forgive him.
But Gambit knew that in reality they weren�t making any progress at all. Wolverine was still unchanged, an animal at heart. His new veneer of manners was like the veneer of a trained bear or lion in the circus, easily apparent, but untrustworthy. More, Gambit worried that because Wolverine was attacking him less frequently, biding his time, the attack would be all the more deadly when it came.
Fighting off a clumsy, animalistic Wolverine was relatively easy. Fighting off one who had regained a bit if his deadly knowledge would be much harder. Gambit tried to ignore the fact that in making Wolverine a bit more human he had made him much, much more dangerous. And Gambit only had to fail once, that was the bitch of it. Wolverine had all the time in the world.
All Gambit could do was wait.
The attack came from out of nowhere. Before Remy had a chance to react Logan had him grabbed and pinned against the wall, the adamatium blades pressed against Remy�s bare throat. Wolverine snarled, a low guttural sound. Gambit could read the man�s intent clearly in his eyes.
�Go ahead.� Remy said flatly. �The way I see it, neither of us has much to live for.�
Wolverine didn�t respond. Gambit seriously doubted he was even capable of understanding what Gambit had said. Wolverine drew back his hand to strike. Gambit didn�t flinch, didn�t look away. He had no fear. He didn�t even have any regret for his failure, though after this Wolverine would be un-reclaimable. The least Gambit could do was meet Wolverine�s eyes as he destroyed life for both of them.
�I would have liked for this to end differently, I think.� Said Gambit.
Wolverine brought is hand down so fast it whistled in the air, and blew a strand of hair across Remy�s watchful eyes. Adamantium blades sliced through the skin of his neck.
A fraction of an inch below the surface of the skin, they stopped.
Wolverine threw back his head and gave a cry, so filled with rage and despair that every living creature that heard it stilled in terror and heartache. But it was the one that wasn�t living that caught him as he fell and pulled him down into a warm embrace, to let him rest his head as he wept, wept as he had never wept in all those months of indescribable pain, wept until his bones rocked in their sockets.
<It was very good not to feel things sometimes,> thought Gambit, stroking the other man�s head softly. <Surely some of the things you would feel could break the heart.>