They moved very, very slowly at first. Remy wasn�t good for much for the first few weeks following his ordeal anyway. He mostly slept, lying curled in Logan�s bed, where he had been rather unceremoniously deposited after they spent that first night together in his room. Often Remy would not stir when Logan came to nestle in beside him.
Sometimes he would sleep all day, waking only when Logan gently shook him, to force some food down his throat. Others, he would wake to find himself curled in a blanket on Logan�s lap as the other man sat by the fire starting into the flames, or reading a dog-eared book.
Remy would reach out to touch his face. �Don�t you have better things to do than watch me sleep?�
�Does it bother you?� Logan would stroke his hair, tucking it behind his ear.
�Do you always answer a question with a question?�
�When I can get away with it.� They grinned at each other.
Soon they began venturing out to sit under trees in the garden, lying with their heads propped on each other, Logan reading aloud from whatever book he had. He was something of a book nut as it turns out, a fact that surprised and charmed Remy.
�Well, what did you think I was doing all those nights alone in my room?�
�Wanking and brooding.�
�Ha. No love, that�s your job.�
On the first of these little trips Logan, whose protective instincts never ceased to amaze Remy with their impracticality, insisted that he was going to carry the kid outside.
�Yeah, but you don�t really think that�s going to happen, do you?�
Logan paused, trying to figure out how delicately to explain to the kid that he didn�t really have a choice in the matter when Remy surprised him by leaping up, grabbing a blanket from the bed and running, RUNNING, damn him, down the back stairs and outside, laughing all the way, so that by the time Logan got there, he already had the blanket spread out and was lying in the sun.
��allo monsieur, would you care to join me? The sun is very nice today.� Logan couldn�t help it, he laughed. He could never help laughing.
One night he lay in bed beside the Cajun, running his hands through Remy�s hair, down his long neck, cherishing, as always, the wonderful fact that Remy was a hands length away. He was suddenly aware that Remy was awake and looking at him, an oddly intent, soulful look.
�What is it?� he asked.
��s nothing. I just can�t believe you�re here.� He paused. �I never thought you would want to touch me again, after�.. after seeing me in that place. After knowing the things I�ve done.� It was the first time he mentioned it, since his return. His voice was deceptively casual. Logan knew that whatever he said next would be very important.
�You were wrong.� His voice was barely more than a whisper. �I hated to see you in that place, I won�t pretend otherwise. I wanted to kill those bastards. I wanted to break you out, to give you comfort, to shield you. But seeing you there, it only made me love you more, love your courage and your sacrifice.� He paused a moment. �But if you ever try to do anything like that again, I�ll chain you to the bed. I�m sorry, I won�t have a choice.�
Remy laughed. He cupped Logan�s face in his hands, running his fingers along his check bones. �You save me.� He whispered, and Logan didn�t know if he were talking about the present or the future.
Logan pulled Remy close against him. The kid would recover. The beast in him knew that instinctively. But it also knew that the sadness in the kid, the wariness about the eyes that had not been there before his time in the brothel, would never fully leave him. He would grow from it, bury it deep within, learn to live with it and find joy despite it, as Logan himself had learned to do. It was one more thing they had in common, the only one Logan regretted.
For Remy this was the most peaceful time in his life. Waking beside Logan in the morning, falling asleep nested in his arms, was the sum of his existence as he slowly began to free himself from the nightmare of the past months. Logan, in his own rough, and slightly demanding way, liked to fuss over him and nurse him, and for Remy, who had managed on his own since childhood this was an alien experience. Even stranger, he learned to accept graciously more often than not, knowing that this was something that the other man needed, to reassure himself that Remy was fine, that he was healing and happy.
They did not kiss again for a long time after that first night. As often as Logan cursed the beast inside him, it had its virtues after all. One of these was a patience Logan would not have guessed he possessed. The animal understood healing, understood by instinct that to have its mate entirely as it wanted Remy, it would have to wait until Remy was ready.
Logan himself knew that it was possible�even likely�that Remy would never be ready. His lifetime of experiences could easily have robbed him of the ability to find joy or release in any form of sex, and Logan would not blame him if they had. He was quite sure Remy would do anything to make him happy, but the thought of his kid performing without actual desire, prostituting himself for the affection that was his by right, left him cold. If giving Remy time meant a lifetime of celibacy Logan knew he would pay the price, and do it happily, thinking it was more than a fair trade.
He couldn�t know it, but this was exactly the right approach. Remy was used to thinking of sex as something done to him, or against him. Then, in the face of Logan�s reticence, he found himself wanting to please his partner, and from thinking about that desire, came other desires, these for his own sake. It would be nice to have Logan�s mouth on his skin again.
They were coming in the door one night, hand in hand, when Remy asked, without preamble, �So are you ever going to kiss me again?�
Logan changed color several times. �Remy, I think it would be best if we took it slow.�
�Slow. Slow as in full stop, or slow as in moving backwards?�
�You�ve been through a terrible experience. I think, perhaps it would be best to wait, until you have had time to process it, to decide what you need, before moving forward. I am more than willing to wait. I�.I don�t want to see you hurt again.�
�Yes, I see.� Remy�s eyes were on his shoes. �It is very wise. Thank you.� Then he grabbed Logan by the shoulders and pushed him hard against the door, bringing his mouth down on the other�s as his did.
�Remy! What-� Logan pushed him back. �What the hell are you doing?�
�You may save me from many things monsieur, but I will save myself from your nobility.� Remy kissed him again.
Logan moaned a little into Remy�s mouth. He knew the kid was wrong. It was Remy who would save him.
*********************************************************************
That night the nightmare came back again, the third time in as many weeks. He was in the tank, as always, the pain, bone deep, making him feel like his body was alight. In the background he could hear the bone saw being sharpened. Through the wavy glass of the tank he saw the diagrams, the X-rays of his body, small and insignificant looking tacked to boards around the room.
Then the telepaths came in. Their voices began to whisper through his mind. Kill. Destroy. They stripped him of memories. He could feel them being pulled free from his mind, could hear himself trying to scream through his mask as all knowledge of who he was eroded under the onslaught. Fight. Kill. Fester. Burn.
In the places in his mind they had torn open the telepath planted new knowledge, new memories, of thing so horrible he could not have imagined them even from within the hell of the tank. They stripped him of the man, left him with only the beast, which they fed and tormented and twisted to their own will until every shred of what he had been utterly wasted and he became their creature, living to do only what they had trained him to. Kill. Torture. Rape.
Through it all was the pain, always the pain, the pain, pain that shriveled him, and aged him. Pain that killed him a hundred times, two hundred, until he cried, begging them to let him die. There was nothing left of him. Only pain�..
�Cher.� Someone was calling. �Cher. You have to wake up. Please cher. Open your eyes.�
The nightmare was pulling at him, but he couldn�t resist the voice. His eyes opened a crack. The present. He was alive. Large, red and black eyes were inches from his own.
�Welcome back.�
He couldn�t speak. His mouth was dry. The eyes disappeared for a moment then returned, pressing a glass to his lips. �Drink this.� He did, and spluttered, but the water felt delicious against the back of his throat. Alive, still. Even human, more or less.
Remy wiped his face with the cool cloth he had brought from the bathroom. �That one was especially bad, oui?� Logan nodded.
�Where do you go in these nightmares?�
He didn�t want to think about it, but was too tired not to answer. �The tank, the tank where they made me.� Remy brushed his face with a hand comfortingly.
�It was very painful, oui?�
�Yes. Unbearable. It stopped my heart, more than once, though they always brought me back. But,� he struggled to find the right words. He had never told anyone about the telepaths before. Now Remy was looking at him with eyes filled with love and concern and he knew he had to tell, wanted to tell the one person in the world who could possibly understand. �The pain wasn�t the worst part. They had telepaths there.�
�Telepaths?�
�Yeah,� he gave a bitter laugh. �The tank was just the physical part of making the perfect weapon, right? They could do the body. They needed to make the mind as well. I remember�.. what it felt like as they stripped me of everything�.all my memories, my personality, my history, I don�t know what. That�s the damndest part about it. I can�t remember what they took, but I know what it felt like to have it ripped away.�
Remy�s eyes were huge with shock and sympathy. �Oh Logan.�
�I dream I�m back there. I dream I�m losing myself again.�
�Yes,� whispered Remy. �I understand. But you are here now. You are safe, with me.� He laid his head on Logan�s stomach.
�It changed me, Remy.� Confessed Logan. �It woke�..� but he never talked about the beast, not to anyone, not even to Remy. �Even now, I�m haunted by what I might do, might do because of them. I fear I could lose myself again, lose you, so easily. I can�t have a person in my mind, even the slightest touch brings all that back on me.�
�I know.� Said Remy. �I know. But you won�t lose me Logan. I am your home now. I am your home and you are mine, and if you wander I will bring you back.�
Long after Logan had dropped to sleep in exhaustion, Remy lay feeling his lover�s chest rise and fall, his eyes staring out into the darkness, keeping watch.
On the anniversary of the third month they�d been together Logan handed Remy a large box. �For the nights I�m out on patrol, and you get lonely.� He grinned wickedly. Remy opened the box with some trepidation. Inside was a large, blanket, of dark fur, wonderfully soft.
Remy loved that blanket. He would wrap up it and wait for Logan to come home. Often Logan would find him, sprawled in a chair, asleep, one long, narrow arm trailing out over the black fur. It was enough to set a man on fire.
One night Logan came back late and climbed into bed carefully, trying not to wake the kid. Remy half opened his eyes and muttered something that might have been, �hello,� then curled up to him and dropped back into sleep.
Logan lay awake next to him, letting the tensions of the day run out of his body. He gently stroked Remy�s back, tracing his fingers along the delicate vertebrae and cords of muscles. He thought Remy�s back was the most beautiful part of him, well almost.
Suddenly he heard a noise, like a car in the distance, but much closer. He sat bolt upright. �What was that?�
Remy�s eyes opened. �What?�
�That noise. It sounded like a motorcycle or something.�
Remy frowned. �If Bobby�s borrowed my bike without asking again, he�s in for a world of hurt.� He rolled over and went back to sleep.
Logan sat alert against the headboard and went back to stroking Remy�s back. The noise started again, this time unmistakably coming from inside the room. It took Logan a few more minutes to realize it was coming from Remy. He began to chuckle. Then laughed out loud, delighted with his discovery.
�Hey Remy, wake up. You�re purring.�
�What?� Remy opened his eyes again. He even slept light, like a cat. �You having a dream cher.�
�No. I was petting you and you started to purr.� Remy just looked at him blankly. �Didn�t you know?�
Remy shook his head. �No one ever mentioned it. You mean Remy was snoring?�
�Not snoring. Purring. You really are a tom cat.� Logan laughed again.
Remy was less amused. �Really?� He looked pensively at the bed.
�Oh, come on. Don�t you think it�s funny? I think it�s cute. I always knew you liked to be petted..�
Remy gave him a strained smile. �Yea, cher. It�s hilarious. I�ll see you in the morning.� He lay back down and closed his eyes again.
Logan sat in puzzled silence. What had he said wrong? He had thought Remy would have known about his purring, but then if no one had ever said anything about it to him, how would he? Probably no one had gotten the chance to tell him, the boy didn�t seem like he had been the sleepover type during his days of catting arou- Oh.
Logan winced. <You really are a tom cat.> Moron. That had been stupid, no doubt. He knew Remy was sensitive about his past, especially now. Logan had only meant it innocently, Remy�s grace, his love of the sun, the way he slept, curled up against him, or sprawled out as far as possible. Of course that wasn�t what Remy had heard.
Fuck. Well, he�d have to talk to the kid tomorrow, apologize, make sure he understood. Remy would forgive, of course. Logan wished he wouldn�t do it easily, shout a little, kick up some fuss about the injustice of it. Fat chance. <It was just a joke!> He lay awake trying to think of a way to broach the subject.
As it turned out he never got a chance. The next morning hell broke lose and by that evening, when the tables had been turned on him he could only wish he handled it as well as Remy had.