In the weeks following Fabian and Remy�s departure Logan was irritable, without really knowing why. There was something rubbing at him, some sense that he had been abandoned, or somehow slightly ill-used.
At first he thought it was because Fabian had taken Remy with him and not Logan. Then as time went on, Logan couldn�t remember exactly why he ever would have wanted to go with the old man in the first place. Perhaps it was that Remy had thrown him over in favor of Fabian so easily. That seemed more likely. Logan felt a mounting irritation whenever he thought of the kid . Damn him! He hadn�t even really bothered to say goodbye properly. He had been too eager to go off with Fabian, no doubt.
In fact, as time went on, Logan found it harder and harder to remember what he had thought was so fantastic about Fabian in the first place. Certainly there was no particular memory that stood out which demonstrated why the guy was worth all the bother.
Apparently Remy had disagreed. Logan snarled. Remy�.. Well, it didn�t matter, surely the persistent niggling ache he had whenever he thought of the kid would diminish with time. That was how it worked.
Except it didn�t. In fact, his mood got worse. People in the mansion started avoiding him. Logan didn�t care. He growled and stomped around, and rarely bothered speaking.
Finally one night he found himself at the door to Remy�s room. Funny, he hadn�t been in there since�.since he couldn�t remember. Nearly two months now he supposed, before Remy had left on that recon.
There was a faint tinge in the air that smelled a little off when Logan opened the door. He ignored it, putting it down to the room having been closed for a long time. He hovered in the doorway for a few moments, unsure why he had even bothered coming in. He was about to turn and go when something caught his eyes.
It was the photo of the pair of them Remy kept in a frame by his bead. Bobby had taken it, when he had been going through a photography phase. It was black and white and close-up, almost nothing showed of either except their heads and necks.
Logan had his mouth on Remy�s neck, though whether he was kissing or nipping wasn�t clear. He was looking up at the camera with a half-comic, wicked glint in his eye. Remy had his head thrown back over Logan�s shoulder. His eyes were closed and his mouth open with laughter.
Logan picked up the photo and stared at it for a long time. Everything about Remy he hadn�t though about for weeks flooded over him. He was overcome with nostalgia and loneliness. His kid. Why had he gone? Somehow Logan had thought he never would.
The tickling at the back of Logan�s head solidified into a genuine anxiety. Suddenly memories of the past few weeks, things that had been bothering him subconsciously for days sprang up before his eyes.
He remembered.
Remy�s ashen face on seeing Fabian for the first time, Remy trying to tell him something�what?�about Fabian, arguing, Remy being helped by Fabian into the car, his eyes glazed and unseeing.
That smell, in the room, it wasn�t closed air, it was fear. Remy�s fear, and a strange bitter undercurrent <drugs>. He remembered Remy�s tentative brush of his mind. Remembered the feel of the kid�s wrist crumbling beneath his fingers.
The picture dropped from his nerveless fingers, shattering on the ground. Nausea overwhelmed him.
He couldn�t have done that. He <couldn�t> have. Not to Remy. He couldn�t have calmly broken the kid�s arm, like snapping some sort of twig. But he knew with a sick certainty that he had.
What the hell was the matter with him? With them all? What had happened? It was almost like they�d been drugged, or hypnotized.
Fabian. Logan felt a growl rise in his throat. That bastard had taken Remy. Taken him from under Logan�s nose, used Logan against his own kid.
He felt rage rising up to blind him and forced himself to think rationally. Why? What was Remy to Fabian?
<�It seems Remy does not remember our time together with the same fondness I do.�>
Something from the past. Something so painful, buried so deep within the kid that Remy hadn�t told even Logan.
Except maybe he had. He just hadn�t realized it.
Logan remembered a night six months ago vividly, it still haunted his own dreams.
<Remy was crying in his sleep, not the screams or shaking that told Logan he was dreaming of Sinister�s lab, but the sniffling of a very small boy. His eyes were wide and unseeing in the darkness.
�Remy?� He brushed his fingers over his lover�s cheek.
Remy flinched back with a small cry. �Please monsieur, Remy be good. Don�t punish. Please monsieur.� His accent was thick, siltered through the memories of a lifetime.
�Shh. Remy. It�s okay. No one is going to punish you.�
�Oh, thank you monsieur. Thank you. Kind monsieur.�
He sounded so young, the dream stripping years off him. Logan�s heart broke. What had happened to his kid, all those years ago? Who had hurt him like this, so deeply that Remy still cried out twenty years later?
Slowly he had gathered Remy to his chest. �Shh, kid. It�s alright. Logan�s here. I�ll keep you safe.�
�Logan?� Remy�s voice was soft, still young, �please don�t let him pick me. Don�t let him take me when he feeds.�
Logan had rubbed the kid�s backs, murmuring softly to him, discounting the mumblings as the vestiges of nightmares.>
Remy hadn�t remembered any of it the next morning. Logan had tried to talk about it and gotten looks of genuine incomprehension. He hadn�t forced the issue. Remy would share himself in his own good time.
Now he wished he�d been more forceful. Who was Fabian? Was he the man Remy dreamed about? <�The scars, on my neck, the ones that were made by someone forcing my head around? Fabian put those there.�> Logan growled again. What Fabian had been to Remy made very little difference. He would soon cease to be anything to anyone.
Fabian approached the cage door slowly. He opened the door and drew Remy�s limp form out, allowing the boy�s body to collapse on the rug at his feet.
He bent to stroke a considering finger against the boy�s still face then lifted Remy�s head and lowered his mouth to Remy�s.
The rush of energy was considerably less than he had hoped. It was sad, he thought, with a trace of regret, how quickly these things are exhausted.
�Ahh Remy,� he said softly, in between the increasingly deep kisses. �I fear our time together is coming to an end. �It is a pity, I know, but with you all but dry, I fear I will need to seek other sources.�
He lowered his mouth to Remy�s again and pulled once more before continuing, �I thought I might look into your friend, Logan. He seems like the virile type. I think he will last me quite some time.�
Deep in Remy, Fabian�s words raised some shred of awareness. He moaned a little against Fabian�s mouth.
�Mmm, yes. I think this Logan will keep me occupied for quite some time to come. As we have already seen, he is not impervious to my charms. I think it will be little trouble to entice him in. Once I do, I have hope he will last a long time. You have proven something of a disappointment Remy, I must admit. But with your friend I don�t think I need to fear.�
<Logan!> Remy called desperately. The mention of Fabian�s intentions stirred up the remaining currents of self he had left. They leapt in a wave of hatred towards the man above him and a deep surge of protectiveness towards the man he loved.
Fabian felt Remy�s last walls of self protection collapse at the mention of his lover�s name. He lowered his mouth to Remy�s again and pulled one last, strong draft.
Remy�s newfound resistance was torn and dissolved into Fabian�s vortex. The old man leaned closer, drinking more deeply, pulling the last reserves Remy had.
The force of the energy was incredible. Everything Remy had been hiding from Fabian, all his love for Logan, his most cherished memories, his closest secrets, a writhing sea of form and feeling Fabian had not suspect Remy possessed. He rocked back a moment stunned.
A slow smile spread across Fabian�s face. He lowered his mouth again and pulled harder. All Remy was, all he had left was slowly pulled into the old man. Fabian drank and drank until he came up gasping for air, until he could get no more from the husk before him.
He came back to awareness suddenly knowing that he was no alone in the room. He let Remy�s body slide to the floor and turned to face the man behind him.
�Logan, how nice of you to join us.�
Logan stood frozen, his eyes fixed and hopeless on the still, ragged form behind Fabian. His kid, Remy. Oh God. What was left of him?
�Just let me put this away.� Fabian pulled Remy�s light body up easily, and pushed it back into the cage. He barely bothered to close the barred door behind him. He knew Remy would pose no more danger.
�Now,� he said turning. �To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?�
�Remy.� Logan could barely force the words out. �You were�. You were feeding on him.�
�Yes, well it is unavoidable if one wants to continue living past the first century or so.� Fabian gave a little shrug. �He was tasty, as you know. But I must confess I was disappointed by his staying power.�
Logan didn�t answer. He was consumed by rage and despair and�guilt. How had he let Remy come to this? He couldn�t seem to take his eyes off the body in the cage. Behind him, Fabian kept speaking softly.
�I can understand the appeal for you, certainly. After all, I have been one of LeBeau�s most steadfast fans. It must be difficult to find your faith so misapplied.�
Logan wanted to shake his head. The babbling old man didn�t get it. Remy was his love, his anchor. But his mouth felt heavy. The words seemed to much trouble to form.
�Surely you have often thought about the benefits of a more, what was the word? Oh yes, virile companion. One more suited to your appetites.� Fabian stepped in front of Logan and traced his fingertips down the other�s face.
Logan looked at him blankly. What was the man talking about? He had come for Remy. Remy.
�He is pretty, it is true, but so weak. Really such weakness is not becoming. It colors everything around it. Now of course he is no longer even so attractive, merely worn out, shattered by stronger, better men. Surely you know that you can do better than that.�
Looking at the cage Logan had to admit that Fabian had a point. Remy looked sallow and impossibly faded. He was pale and thin, his skin and hair lusterless. Logan wondered vaguely how he had ever found the boy appealing at all.
�Surely you know that you deserve better.� Fabian smiled at Logan�s wooden nod. �You deserve everything, my friend. In short, you deserve me.�
He cupped a hand behind Logan�s head and drew their mouths together in a fierce kiss. Logan�s hands flew up. He tried to push Fabian way, but suddenly he was tired, so tired. His hands dropped limply to his sides.
He felt himself fall to his knees, felt the life begin to drain out of him. He felt himself being lost in the torrent of energy and memories and thought pouring from him. He was cold, so very cold. He didn�t think he would ever be warm again.
Fabian sensed Logan weakening. He deepened the kiss, moaning with pleasure, running his tongue around Logan�s mouth as he drew deeper and deeper on the feral�s life force. There was so much energy to be harnessed. He felt his body exult and grow young with it. The more he pulled, the weaker Logan became. Fabian smiled, sensing the point at which the other man would be incapable of resistance all together.
Logan moaned as he felt Fabian burrowing deeper inside his mind. He was in agony, a terrible, raw pain as his mind was shredded. He struggled against the tide vainly, but felt Fabian begin to reach even deeper, to pull more from him.
Then in his haze of weakness and pain, Logan felt Fabian�s tongue brush his own. For a brief second, he tasted a flicker of something entirely outside of the old man. Something familiar and beloved.
Remy!
The beast inside him awoke at the taste of it mate. Fabian never saw the change coming, never understood the strange shift in the current of energy. He barely felt the blow to the chest, dead before he hit the ground, his heart pieced by adamantium claws.
Logan stood in the middle of the room, his chest heaving, his body swaying slightly. He felt ill, drained by what Fabian had taken out of him, incapable of knowing what had happened or how close he had come to death.
Eventually though, he began to return to himself. He looked at the body on the floor, unable to feel the least tinge of remorse. If ever a man had deserved to die it was Fabian, the Apothecary.
He stumbled over to the cage, and pulled open the gilded bars. His heart was crying out. Remy lay as Fabian had left him, a scattering of limbs, his wasted body curled protectively around his right wrist, wrapped in a dirty bandage.
Logan barely noticed his tears as he gathered the slender figure into his arms. Remy had lost a lot of weight. His diminished body looked fragile and younger, the shadow of a boy tormented by a mad man, the wreckage of a man almost killed by the same.
As he was lifted Remy�s eyes opened a little and fixed on Logan�s face, but there was no recognition in them, no sign of any living presence behind the gaze at all.
Logan felt his anger change direction, from the body on the floor to himself. How had he done this? How had he failed his kid so completely?
He ran his fingers through the limp hair. Fabian had stolen so much from him in a matter of minutes. The man had had Remy in his power for more than three weeks. Did any of his kid remain inside this broken shell?
�Remy.� He whispered, and pressed his mouth to the top of the still head. But Remy did not stir.
It was a funeral procession of one, the short solemn walk back to the plane. He held the kid tightly all the way, not daring to pray, out of some superstitious fear that God would see it as the self-serving gesture it was. All his energy was concentrated on the body in his arms.
He put the plane on autopilot and sat at the controls, holding Remy and running his hands over the still form, the delicate tapering eyebrows, the long neck.
How had he done this? Twice Fabian had overpowered him. He had escaped by the merest chance, the taste of Remy on the mouth of the one who had almost killed him. Logan, who had always thought himself capable of handling almost anything, had almost lost�perhaps had lost�his love to one old man.
Guilt threatened to overwhelm him. It had all been so quiet, so fast. There had been no battle, no fight, not even a twinge of anxiety over the past month. What would it be if he lost Remy in this way? He couldn�t seem to get his mind around the concept and yet, looking down at the fragile figure in his arms he couldn�t breath. Remy was worn to a ghost, whatever Fabian had taken, it had been deep.
Logan felt hollow. The guilt was so deep he couldn�t even comprehend it. Remy lay with his body curled around his shattered wrist. It looked like Fabian hadn�t even bothered to change the bandage since Logan had broken it.
Looking down he felt the bones crunch under his fingers again. He saw the pain in Remy�s eyes, a hurt that was so deep, much deeper than any physical injury.
Logan moaned softly to himself. He pulled the body closer to him, painfully close, though Remy gave no sound. What had he done? What had he done?
Thief (3)
Hank paled as Logan walked into the lab and laid Remy down on the nearest bed.
�Remy. My God. How�.?�
�He needs to have his wrist set.� Said Logan simply. He was incapable with dealing with his other team mates right now. Let them come to their own realizations. Let them bear those burdens as best they could. He had eyes for nothing but the form on the bed.
He summoned the professor as Hank worked. Remy didn�t twitch as Hank went about the difficult task of setting an old injury. He lay on the table terribly still.
Xavier could tell Logan nothing he hadn�t already guessed. Fabian had been feeding on Remy somehow, drawing energy and life out of him, though how much and whether the boy would be able to recover he couldn�t say.
�There�s nothing physically wrong with him,� Hank�s voice was wooden, strangely numb. �He�s dehydrated and needs some food. If we can feed him by hand it would be better than putting him on IVs. He would be better off outside of the lab in terms of healing from his�other injuries.�
So Logan had carried Remy up to his room, away from the others. He wanted Remy to himself, wanted only his hands on the strange, lifeless body. He couldn�t explain it, except to say that someone had taken the kid away from him, taken him easily, and broken him. On top of everything else, it seemed a violation against Logan himself. Now he wanted no one else�s hands on Remy.
So he had gotten a little broth and poured it carefully into the Cajun�s mouth, closed the jaw carefully and rubbed the slender neck until Remy had swallowed. Then he had repeated it, over and over, day after day, feeding the boy like a wounded animal, working up to soft food, applesauce, a little fish, carefully ground.
He took Remy into the bath tub with him, sitting for hours in the cooling water, washing the boy, soaping and rinsing, trying to remove any cell, any molecule of Fabian from his lover. He wanted no trace of the man on Remy.
It did no good though. Fabian could not be washed away. Remy did not wake. He gained a little weight, his cheeks lost the hollows, his shoulders stopped poking through the skin, but he lay in Logan�s arms as limply as he had come out of the cage.
�I don�t know how deeply Fabian fed,� Xavier said.
His voice had the same flatness that all the team had now, realizing they had been tricked, ensnared, robbed. Logan didn�t know how they were dealing with the betrayal, or the guilt. He spent little time outside of his room now. It couldn�t have been easy, the guilt, the shame. God knew he could sleep little enough himself. He looked at Xavier dully.
�There seems to be so little of him left now�. I can�t reach him Logan. It�s hard for me to know if he even remains at all. I�m sorry.�
�What will happen if he isn�t?� Logan forced himself to make the words. He needed to hear, needed to understand that this might be real, that Remy might not come back. It was hard to remember sometimes, the kid looked so perfect.
�Time will tell. If he is�gone, his body will be unable to recover. Eventually it will shut down and he will die physically as well as mentally. The other possibility is that Remy will recover a bit, regain some consciousness, but will be absent, a loss of personality perhaps, or memories, or some indefinable vitality. There is no way to know.�
Logan didn�t know what to hope for. He wanted Remy with him, any way possible, he had learned that before, the hard way. Yet he knew the kid would never want that. Remy would want to be entire or not at all.
So he didn�t know whether to be joyous or afraid when Remy began to show small signs of improvement. They were nothing that would have seemed particularly encouraging in any other circumstances. Remy�s eyes began to move slowly as he slept. Sometimes he would make a small moan, as if caught in a dream. Other times he would open is eyes and gaze uncomprehendingly at the world around him. It wasn�t the flat, dead look of before, it was more the look of one heavily drugged, unconscious even, who was trying to make sense of what they saw, or decide whether seeing was really worth the bother.