Title: And I love him even more.

Author: BJ

(X-Men Logan/Remy)

Rating: PG13

Disclaimer: They belong to Marvel; I’m just playing with them. No harm intended and no money made.

Summary: Logan watches as Remy has a nightmare.

Notes: Another challenge from the Make Believe Group. It’s my own little AU. It’s Logan/ Remy, and let’s face it, this will NEVER happen anywhere but in Fanfics. Oh, again, I don't have a Beta so all mistakes are mine. Please try to ignore them, I'll probably cry if you flame me...

And I Love Him Even More
by BJ
*****

He watches me.

He watches me with those demon child eyes that beg me to rescue him. I can practically taste his fear, pain, and shame.

And all I can do is love him.

He’s trapped in a hellish memory of foul deeds done to a child who was too young and weak to fight back, and too afraid of the consequences if he did dare to try.

I crouch with white knuckled fists and just wait. I don’t dare touch him yet. His mind and heart and eyes are still blind to the Present, to my love… to me.

I move cautiously closer, and wait for some sign that he is back from this nightmare world. It makes me feel ill to know that I’m witnessing my lover’s past and that it makes even mine look tame.

And still all I can do is love him.

The smell of warm salt alerts me to the fact that he’s moving on to the next phase of the… dream? Memory is more accurate. I close my eyes as tight as I can and I ask whatever is out there listening to spare him from this final humiliation. Please, just this once…

Remy LeBeau is a strong, brave, proud man. These nightmares though, they force him back to a time when he wasn’t. When the only thing he could afford to waste precious energy on was staying alive.

His breathing hitches, and my mind is filled with the hollow sound of the cruel laughter, and demeaning insults he hears. I’m used to it now. It’s a by-product of the empathic link he unconsciously throws out when the dreams come.

The first time it happened it scared me shitless.

I can do nothing but sit back and wait as he begs the nameless, faceless ghosts that taunt and terrorize him to, " let me go… please let me go…"

And all I can do is love him.

The Wolverine erupts inside me, demands that I protect my mate from the things that are hurting him… but I can’t. I learned long ago that I have no power in the place where he is lost. I inch closer, never touching, but near enough for him to reach out and feel me if he needs me.

He whispers soft pleas in his Cajun French, and I desperately wish I understood so that I could know what turns my darling, fearless lover into the frightened child before me.

Then again, do I have the courage to face the truth?

The hoarse whispers have quieted down to soft sobs now, and I pray… yes I PRAY that this means the nightmare will end soon.

And still all I can do is love him.

During the space of more seemingly endless minutes than I care to count, my lover folds down around himself. His breathing slows, and he doesn’t make a sound. Suddenly he reaches out blindly with a shaky hand. He used to call out for his father,

" Pere… Poppa, please…" now…

Now he whispers my name. He calls out for ME, and it fills me with unspeakable joy to know I mean that much to him.

"Logan, Cher…"

I take hold of his hand and grip it tightly. I want him to feel me, know that I’m real…

Know that I love him.

His head finally lifts and he looks in my direction. I haven’t said a word yet; I want him to become aware in his own time. He sits back and closes his eyes; these dreams take a lot out of him. Finally his eyes open, and show recognition again, and I let out the breath I’ve been holding, " Hey darlin’, welcome back."

I tug gently on his hand that I’ve yet to release, and he falls forward into my waiting arms. I never knew how good loving human contact was until I met Remy. Because of his past he craves any kind or loving touch like a drug. I wasn’t too keen on that idea at first, but let Remy cuddle up close to you once… and you never want him to go away. He smells like the forest after a rain. His hair is soft as down. I smile and kiss the top of his head… he is the drug! He’s the drug and I’m so addicted that I never want to be parted from my source.

I pet his soft hair and listen as he mumbles an apology into my shoulder. Like he has any control over his dreams. I hold him close and rock gently back and forth…

And I love him even more…

End