In complete silence, the young man stole through the abandoned corridor underneath the ancient crypts. Briefly, he felt immensely grateful that New Orleans was a city of superstition. It was probably the one reason why the priest didn't dare to disturb the rest of the dead laying here in their cold tombs.

The corpses didn't bother him and he sneaked passed them. This was his only way to get into the cathedral, which was the one place where he felt safe enough to spend the night. At least here people didn't try to take advantage of him. Here, they didn't threaten to kill him if he refused to give them the little money he'd made during the day.

Oh, the priest probably knew that he'd been sleeping in his church for the last few weeks, but for some reason he allowed it to continue. Sometimes at night, he heard the priest move about, checking the doors and making sure all candles had been extinguished. During his first night here, he'd foolishly lit a few candles. A mistake he wouldn't make a second time.

The silence… the silence in this holy place always got on his nerves and he needed time to get used to the absence of noise, which filled the streets during the day. But he was safe here and exhausted, he sank onto the floor. There was a warm rug in front of the altar and he curled up on it. It was blasphemous and the first time that he'd slept here he'd expected the heavens to strike him down, but nothing had happened.

Feeling miserable, he pulled the old and worn coat closer to his body. High above the altar hung a crucified Christ and gently, he whispered an apology, assuring the heavens that he didn't want to offend, but he needed a place to sleep, far away from the dangers in the streets!

An angel statue loomed over him and strengthened his feelings of safety. This angel had a warm facial expression and his hands were extended, as if calling people to join him. The first time he'd come here, the angel had scared the hell out of him.

But to the right of the altar was a huge, grande statue of the Virgin Mary and it reassured him that he was welcome here. She had such loving eyes… He wished his mother looked like that… He had never seen her or his father, but he hoped she resembled this statue and maybe one day he'd find her. Right now, his situation looked hopeless though.

His eyes slipped shut and mentally he reviewed the past few days. Things had happened too quickly and had been times that he hadn't been sure that all events had really happened or that his vivid imagination had made them up!

It had all started a few weeks ago when he'd woken up in a hospital. He'd freaked, wondering what he was doing there. One of the doctors, an elderly man called Evans, had asked him his name and date of birth, as he'd had no any ID on him when they'd brought him in. His answer hadn't surprised Evans. He'd had no recollection of who he was, what his name was, where he'd been born, or how old he was.

Part of his mind was still blank. However, he'd started to remember certain things.

He remembered growing up on the streets in New Orleans. During the first ten years of his life they'd been his home. He didn't remember any faces of people that he'd been fond of though and there were still bullies around who tried to intimidate him. They were after his money or anything of value he happened to possess.

All he possesses now were the clothes on his back. The doctors had taken pity on him and had found a way to buy him some clothes. He'd stayed in that hospital for at least two weeks. At the end of those 14 days, they'd wanted to transfer him to another hospital to help him regain his memory. They'd also started him on heavy medication and he'd felt sedated and isolated. He hadn’t been able to bear the thought of another day at the mercy of those sedatives.

So he'd run. How he'd gotten out of the ambulance, he didn't know. The driver had been getting himself some coffee and donuts and the door had opened. In a daze, he'd leapt outside. Talking in hindsight that probably hadn't been the most brilliant thing to do, as he'd ended up on his face, instead of his feet. His coordination had stunk due to the drugs and he'd barely made it to the cover of the trees.

But the driver had never realized that he was gone. When the driver had arrived at the hospital they'd been pretty mad at him for losing a patient!

He still kept the prescription for the meds in one of his pockets, just in case. Doctor Evans had firmly ensured him that the meds would help him regain his memory, but he didn't want to feel drugged like that ever again.

That was all he wanted… his memories back. He wanted to know who he was. Why he'd lived on the streets. What had pulled him back to New Orleans? He'd taken up his old life style again, shocked to find that most of his hiding places still existed and weren't occupied. Within a few days, he'd memorized his chain of hideaways and had ventured out to find food and water.

In his youth he'd been a talented thief. He'd picked pockets without the owner ever noticing, but he was a grown man now and no longer had the advantage of being small. People noticed him… noticed his ragged clothes and… haunted eyes.

His eyes. The first time that he'd stared at his reflection he'd recoiled. Le diable blanc, that was what they'd called him and even now they whispered it whenever he forgot to put on his sunglasses. Maybe he should go by that name and forget he probably had a real one.

He remembered most of what had happened to him up to the age of ten, but there were even holes in his mind when it came down to the first five years of his life. He vaguely remembered carrying out orders from an old man who'd scared him gutless. He hadn’t had a say in things, the old man had told him what to do and he'd obeyed, even if he'd hated doing it. Who was this man? Why had he obeyed the old man? And how had he suddenly ended up on the streets?

His head reeled. He was depressing himself, but this line of thought was hard to stop. Didn't he have a right to know who he was and how he'd lost his memory?

Struggling for contact with reality, he opened his eyes and stared at the angel statue. At the edge of his mind a memory struggled closer. He'd stared at this angel before, had even cherished its warmth… The Archangel Raphael.

In a city like New Orleans no one could escape the influence of Voodoo, superstition and religion. It was an odd mix and most Cajuns needed something to hold onto. Voodoo had never attracted him and he'd tried hard not to get tangled in the webs of these Voodoo priests as he had this weird feeling they might want him for one of their rituals… le diable blanc would definitely be a catch!

But these angels… he could look at them for hours; let his thoughts drift and even hope that they would come alive for him.

"I'm pathetic." The sound of his voice startled him. He should keep quiet.

But he really felt pathetic! Last night, he'd dreamt that the angel had come alive and had gathered him in his arms. The angel had even promised to take him to heaven because he'd been good. Proudly, he'd stared into his blue eyes. "Didn' steal, non…"

He ate out of garbage cans and sometimes he got lucky. People threw away excellent food! He'd found sandwiches, still wrapped up and untouched in garbage cans! At first he'd been a little suspicious. What if it was a trap, set by some weirdo who had drugged the food? But hunger did terrible things and eventually, he'd simply devoured it.

But he worried about a different type of people when he was on the streets, searching for food. During his youth he'd quickly learned to stay away from men who looked wealthy, but whose minds were vile and dirty. Yesterday, one of them had walked up to him, promising him a lot of cash if he let the man tie him down and… he'd managed to get away from the bastard. Hopefully, they would never catch him.

His thoughts ran in circles. Images of New Orleans filled most of his memories. He knew that he'd lived here once, but now he hated the place. He wanted to leave it behind and travel someplace else. This city constantly emanated bad vibes!

Cold… the cold crept into his bones through the rug and he hugged his legs, pulling up his knees. Although he'd hated staying at the hospital, at least there he'd had a warm bed and regular meals. Maybe he should have stayed there, let them drug him. This wasn't much better.

He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them. The metal bracelets created a hard sound. He'd been found wearing them. Evans had tried to remove them, but the metal was relentless. They weren't uncomfortable, but they felt cold to the bone.

The angel statue stared down at him and he felt relieved that there was no condemnation in that stare, just promise and love. Something slipped back into his mind. He'd prayed at the feet of this statue when he'd been only a small boy and now, as a grown man he spoke the same words again. "Ange de Dieu, toi qui es mon gardien, puisque le ciel m'a confié à toi dans sa bonté, é claire-moi, dirige-moi et me gouverne aujourd'hui."

No angel would listen to the miserable sinner that he was. But what was a man, even a man without memory, without hope? He would never give up and die fighting, but did he still have the energy to continue this quest? "Jus' want to know who I am, mon Dieu…"

Soft footfalls startled him and he struggled back to his feet. But it'd been days since he'd eaten last and exhaustion finally caught up with him. He could hardly move a muscle. The sunglasses almost slipped from his nose as he even wore them inside the cathedral. He didn’t want to offend a sacred spirit dwelling in here. "Who are you?" Hell, his own voice sounded alien to his ears!

"What are you doing here, mon fils?"

The voice sounded gentle and kind and he worked up enough courage to peek at the man hovering over him. It was the priest. "I'm leavin', m'sieur." Hopefully, the priest wouldn’t call the police. He could run but he didn’t want them chasing him through the streets.

Surprised, the priest studied him. Two weeks ago he'd realized that someone was using the cathedral as a sleeping place, but he never expected to find a young man, curled up on the rug. Young people hardly ever visited the church these days and finding this young man in front of the altar mystified him. His old eyes traveled up and down the young man's form and he slightly shook his head, seeing the bruises that covered part of the youngster's face. It was obvious that he had been involved in a fight. He was skinny and moved with an alarming sluggishness. Concerned, the priest decided to take care of this stranger.

He couldn't bear to look into the priest's eyes, which seemed benign and briefly he hoped that the man would let him stay. By staying here during the night, he wasn't doing any harm! Maybe if he offered to keep an eye on the entrance, making sure no one else sneaked inside at night the old priest would let him stay. But would the priest accept such an offer from a trespasser? "Didn' steal anyt'in', père, " he added quickly. "Would never steal from de Church."

The priest waved the comment away. "I know you didn't steal anything. I would have noticed if you had, but you've been sneaking in here for weeks. Why?" His concern grew, hearing the startled tone in this young man's voice. Something was very wrong with this youngster!

Only now he realized how old the priest really was. His hair was grey, brow wrinkled, but the brown eyes radiated life. Somehow… somehow this old man seemed familiar, like he should know this priest… he felt incredibly lost. "Needed a place to sleep," he said, trying to explain his trespassing.

The priest made his decision. This young man needed help and he couldn't turn his back on this youngster or chase him away. "It's cold on the floor, mon fils." Awkwardly, he extended his hands and tried to help the young man to his feet, but old age had weakened his body and he had to let go, afraid he might take a fall.

Cautiously, he refused to lean on the brittle old man. But those eyes… he'd seen them in a dream that he'd had a few nights ago. "Do I know you?" he asked, wondering why he felt this insane urge to put his trust in the old priest. Too tired to question his instincts, he gave in and bowed his head. His fate was now in the priest's hands.

He stared at the young man, pinched his eyes and finally got out his glasses. "You don't need sun glasses in here," he said in a kindly berating tone. "Put them away, mon fils." Instinct told him that the youngster hoped to find sanctuary here and he wanted to learn more about the pained expression on the young man's face.

His hands trembled as he slowly removed the sunglasses. He didn't want to open his eyes, reveal them to the priest. People always crossed themselves seeing his eyes and then chased him away.

"You can't be scared of me!" the old priest exclaimed in a teasing tone. "I'm an old man, almost eighty!" Why was this youngster so hesitant to open his eyes?

A little reassured, he opened them slightly. He feared the priest's reaction though. The old man would probably tell him to leave the church and never come back!

"Mon Dieu," the priest sighed, seeing those eyes and involuntarily he took a step back. The eyes were red on black. "No wonder you're scared to look at me, mon fils!" But he made sure that no judgement sounded in his tone. He'd lived a long life, survived two world wars and refused to give into superstition. The good Lord certainly had a reason to send this young man with these alien eyes to his church!

In a belated reflex he flinched. He truly expected the older man to change his mind and to order him out of this holy place. Why would the priest allow him, devil spawn, to stay here?

"You need to get warm," the priest said softly. The black and blue bruises on the young face told him that this youngster needed someone to take care of him and he was more than willing to serve the Lord in whatever capacity his saviour deemed necessary.

The young man remained motionless, uncertain if he'd misheard. Was the priest really taking him in? Him? Le diable blanc? He didn't want to admit it, but it really hurt when people called him that name. The worst thing was that he was starting to believe them! What if he really was the devil's son? He had the eyes…

"Are you coming?" The priest turned around, when the young man didn't move. "I think we need to talk." It was obvious that the youngster didn't trust him, couldn't trust him and he realized that instant that this young man had lost his faith in the goodness of people, expecting only beatings and scolding.

Suddenly, the priest's words sank into his mind. His body was no longer paralysed and he hurried towards the old man, almost tripping over his own feet as he followed the priest. He was afraid that this unexpected lifeline would slip away from him.

The priest led his guest through a corridor and then opened a door to his private rooms. "It's not much, but all I need." Closely, he watched the young man's pupils dilate. The youngster had never expected him to truly welcome him to his home. Sadness washed through his old bones. Something had crushed every ounce of trust in this stranger's soul.

Candles created a soft warm glow and he craved their warmth. Incense filled the small room and hesitantly, he stepped inside. He was so tired of being alone... he desperately needed the older man's company.

The priest pointed out the two chairs near the fireplace, which radiated warmth and light. "We both need to sit down, mon fils."

He wanted to argue, but his legs gave out on him and he collapsed onto the chair. The warmth was entrancing and he stared at the priest's old callused fingers, as they folded in prayer. "Merci, for… takin' me in." The priest gave him an undecipherable look and he grew uncomfortable. Concern sprang from those ancient eyes and seeing that emotion in those brown orbs took him aback. Did this old man really care about him? Why care?

"You must be awfully cold." The old man shifted in his chair and reached for the coffee pot standing on a table next to him. After pouring two cups, he looked up. Distrust colored the red on black eyes and he realized he would have to work hard on gaining this young man's trust.

His hands shook, but he accepted the offered cup and relished the feel of something hot in his icy hands. Cautiously, he took a sip and sighed. "Oui, I am, père," he whispered in dread. What the hell was le diable blanc doing talking to a priest?

"My name is Etienne," he said softly. "You look like you need some food, mon fils." Too skinny, he thought upset. Now, by the light of the flames he noticed the starved expression and the hollow cheekbones.

"Has been days since I ate last," he confessed gingerly and relished the hot coffee as it slide down his throat.

"You can find bread and Gumbo in the kitchen," Etienne said softly. "Help yourself. My old bones…"

His eyes sneaked off and found the bowl of Gumbo on the table. "Don' want to eat your dinner, père," he confessed in a guilty tone, although temptation almost overwhelmed him. He craved the food like oxygen.

"There's more where that came from, eat," Etienne instructed in a determined tone. He'd eaten his share before making his rounds. "You need the food," he pointed out, hoping this lost soul would accept the offer.

His stomach growled loudly and before he knew it, he was sitting at the kitchen table, stuffing the bread and Gumbo into his mouth. He tried to eat as much as possible, uncertain when he would get another chance to fill his belly.

Etienne suddenly stood in front of him, which was odd, as he hadn't heard the priest walk into the kitchen. The old man sat down opposite him and gave him an inquisitive look. "I owe you an explanation, père Etienne," he started hesitantly. But he didn’t know what to tell the old priest. He didn't know the truth himself.

"Take your time," Etienne replied patiently. He'd seen enough wounded souls to recognize the hurt. First, this young man needed to learn to trust him.

"Don' know who I am, père Etienne. Only remember livin' here when I was a chile… remember de ange statue… I don' know my name..." he stuttered embarrassed.

Etienne whispered, "You've lost your memory?" The lost expression in the alien eyes touched his heart. "I want to help you, mon fils."

"Do you know me, père Etienne?" Leaning forward, he prayed that the priest knew his name. "Please?"

"Non, I don't know who you are. But you must trust me now…" Slowly, he got to his feet. "You look like a ghost, mon fils. First, you need rest. You do trust old père Etienne, don't you?" He sent a genuine prayer to his Lord, hoping that this young man would give him this chance. Oui, God had certainly sent this youngster for a reason. Now he needed to find out why he'd been chosen for this task.

Etienne's tone made his eyes water. "You're de first to…" he couldn't finish. Etienne was the first to treat him kindly, like a human being who deserved consideration and respect. "You don' t'ink I'm a… freak?" He'd almost said le diable blanc.

"Non, you aren't a freak," père Etienne assured him, but quickly realized that someone had installed that believe in the young man's mind. Why would anyone want the youngster to hate himself? To think of himself as a freak? "You need rest, food and care," he said eventually, hoping the young man realized he was sincere.

"Dey call me le diable blanc," he finally admitted in a tone filled with self-loathing. "You sure you want me here?" He wanted to move, wanted to get to his feet, but he couldn't. His words would probably make père Etienne recoil in abhorrence. Why had he said them!

But père Etienne remained calm, almost expecting such an admission. There was so much pain in those eyes! A deep urge to soothe the young man took over. "You aren't le diable blanc, mon fils. They only say that because your eyes scare them. People try to destroy what they fear. No devil would go to sleep at the feet of the statue of archangel Raphael."

Embarrassed, he closed his eyes. His alien eyes didn't seem to matter to père Etienne and the priest's words took away a deep ache inside his soul. He desperately hoped that the priest was right. Père Etienne gestured him to get to his feet and slowly he followed the priest into the small bedroom. "Dere's only one bed," he stuttered in a guilty tone. No way he would let the old man sleep on the floor or in that chair!

"I'm old. I no longer need that much sleep. Lie down, mon fils and get warm." Slowly, he reached for the blankets, pushed them aside and patted the mattress. "Don't deny an old man, mon fils." It irritated him that he didn't know how to address the youngster. "You don't remember your name?" he asked to be certain.

"Oui," he whispered in reply and hated himself for being this weak, but the bed looked warm and soft and it'd been so long since he'd had a good night's sleep! Mentally crumbling, he gave in and sat down. Acting liking a sleepwalker, he removed his dirty boots and then collapsed onto the bed. It was even softer and warmer than he'd thought possible! It was a little piece of heaven!

"Mon fils," père Etienne started, "What do you want me to call you while you're here?"

His eyes slipped shut, and he loved the feel of père Etienne's gentle hands, tenderly tucking him in. For the first time since he'd woken without memory he felt warm and secure. All it'd taken was an old priest showing him some kindness! Truly pathetic! A tear threatened to slide down his cheek and he quickly wiped it away. He didn't want to cry! "I don' know," he whispered. "Le diable blanc," a hurt part of his soul insisted.

"Non, mon fils. I'll call you Remiel, after the angel of mercy, as you seem to put so much faith in them." His voices sounded calm and full understanding. The young man's tormented eyes clung to his lips and he smiled gently explaining his choice. "He's one of the holy angels, responsible for true divine visions and you look like you need one to help you carry your burden." Père Etienne softly squeezed the young man's cold hands. "Oui, Remy sounds fine to me and now… sleep."

Remiel? Remy? Père Etienne wanted him to have an angel's name? Tears started in his eyes and got caught on the lashes. The priest's soft voice lured him into sleep, but in his mind echoed his new name Remiel; Remy.

He feared the return of the nightmares, which were waiting at the edges of his subconscious. They were the main reason why he didn't want to go to sleep. He didn’t want to startle père Etienne, knowing he would wake up screaming, bathing in cold sweat…

Père Etienne's face revealed worry as he stroked back some dirty strands of auburn hair. When he'd set out to find the intruder he'd never expected to find this youngster! Not many young men sought shelter in the cathedral nowadays!

Although the haunted red eyes were closed now, he still sensed the young man's dread. Remy. The name had soothed the startled youngster. "You need time, mon fils. I'll try and find out who you are," he promised passionately. "I've never had a son, maybe that's why le bon Dieu sent you, mon fils?" Leaning forward, he squeezed the ice-cold hands. "I'll watch over you, Remy."

///

Sometime during the night his dreams changed into nightmares and he found himself in an awfully familiar large room. To his right was a horrible statue. Shivering, he turned away, as that face revolted him.

"Come closer and sit down, young one."

His skin turned to goose flesh. He knew that sharp voice, filled with hidden power and vices. Unable to walk away or wake up, he obeyed the command and shuffled closer to the man who sat on a throne-like chair. The hairs at the back of his neck stood rigid, warning him that he was in danger, but like before, he had no way of escape.

A bony hand touched his face and instinctively, he tried to back away from it. The claw squeezed his shoulder and pulled him closer until he stood in front of the old man. Don’ want to look up, he thought in sheer panic, but the fingers lifted his chin. In utter dread, he stared into emotionless eyes.

"Don't look at me like that!" the white haired man hissed. "There's still disgust and defiance in your eyes, child!"

But how could he hide his feelings when this old man utterly terrified him? Quickly, he lowered his eyes and awaited punishment.

"The prophecy clearly states that you're his chosen one, child." The old man shook his head in disdain. "But you'll never take my place! I'll break you and you'll obey and serve me instead!"

Remy cringed, hoping that only a tirade would follow, as he was too scared to think of other forms of punishment.

"You're already mine, child. All you can do is tremble and stare at me in fear!"

His body shook and his eyes tried to tear apart the floor, so he could disappear into it. Clueless, he listened to the man's raving and suddenly he was jerked forward and forced onto his knees.

Cruel hands and sharp nails delivered blow after blow, scratching his face. He didn't raise his arms to protect himself, knowing that nothing could stop the old man's rage. He was determined to take this beating without uttering a yelp.

A vice-like claw closed around his throat, slowly pushing the little air he had still left from his body. At last, he yelped, begging for mercy. Amused, the old man laughed. Defensively he curled his body, as his nemesis flung him across the floor. He distinctly heard the predatory footfalls and closed his eyes in terror.

"Don' touch me, please… Don' hurt me…" he pleaded softly. It was a mistake. The old man laughed sadistically and the beating stopped. Cold hands unbuttoned his shirt. "Non, please, m'sieur, don'…" he tried one last time.

"You don't have permission to speak, child! I won't tolerate disobedience! You'll learn not to defy me! Your power's nothing compared to mine!"

"Please don'…" the whispering turned into whimpering.

///

"Remiel?" Père Etienne pulled up a chair and sat down next to his guest. This was the third time that the young man was suffering from a nightmare and their intensity scared him. "Remy?" he tried, uncertain whether the youngster would react to the name. "Wake up, mon fils." His brow grew knitted, seeing the terrified expression on Remy's face. "Remiel, listen to me!" he said, harder this time.

"Don' touch me, please… don' hurt me…"

"I won't hurt you, mon fils, but you need to wake up!" père Etienne whispered reassuringly. Why was this young man so afraid of being touched? "Remy," he whispered eventually and shook him gently. "Wake up!"

A terrified keening wail escaped Remy's lips and petrified, he struggled into a sitting position. All he knew, all he felt were fingertips touching his shoulders and he couldn't bear that touch. "Don' touch me!" he yelped in panic. His ragged breathing now slowly regulated itself. "Where am I?"

"In the cathedral," père Etienne reminded him. He pulled back his hands and folded them in his lap. "I worry about you, mon fils," he said honestly. "You're in pain."

In shock, Remy stared at the old priest. The grey hair reminded him of the white haired man in his dreams and he hid his face behind his hands. Trembling violently, he finally managed to peek through his fingers. The eyes… père Etienne's eyes were full of sympathy and concern. "His eyes are always cold," he whispered in an unguarded moment.

"Whose eyes?" Père Etienne walked into the small kitchen, realizing that his young guest needed a moment to compose himself. "I'll prepare some herbal tea for you, mon fils. It usually settles my nerves before going to sleep."

Remy remained motionless and watched the old priest retreat. He'd scared the poor old man! Why had he given in and gone to sleep, knowing the nightmares would freak him out? Maybe because he'd hoped that they'd stay away for just one night?

Père Etienne filled a mug with hot water and put the herbal tea in it. It needed to sit like that for a few moments and he returned to the bed. Although fear still clawed at him from behind Remy's eyes, the young man seemed calmer. "What scared you?"

Remy shook his head. He didn't want to burden père Etienne. "Rien," he lied.

"Why are you afraid of being touched?" père Etienne asked, determined to break through Remy's defenses. "I can guess, but I rather hear it from you."

And much to his amazement, he found himself opening up to the priest. "Dere is dis old man and he…"

"Oui?" père Etienne whispered patiently. "What did he do?"

"Beat me."

"Why?"

"Because…" Now there was a good question! Confused, Remy searched his memory. "Because I defied him."

"You defied him?" Père Etienne returned to the kitchen, removed the tea bag and walked back to his chair. "Be careful, mon fils. It's still hot."

Remy closed his trembling fingers around the mug and looked up gratefully. "Merci."

"Now tell me," père Etienne started, "why did you defy this old man?"

"I don' know." Cautiously, Remy shrugged his shoulders. "My memory's full of holes and his words… I've forgotten dem."

Père Etienne wondered if that was the truth, but decided not to push his scared guest. "Empty the mug," he advised. "It's almost time for me to light the candles in the cathedral. I suggest you clean yourself up. I'll try and find you some new clothes."

Embarrassed, Remy realized that his dirty clothes had stained the white bed linen. "Sorry 'bout dat."

Père Etienne smiled. "Don’t worry about it. Take a shower and when I get back we'll have breakfast."

Remy took some deep breaths and then sipped from the tea. "Wouldn' have known what to do if I hadn' found you," he whispered thankfully. Père Etienne was the first friend he'd made since he'd got here.

The priest rose from his chair. "I'll be back in one hour." As he reached the doorway, he almost turned around, telling the young man not to leave the cathedral without informing him first, but reconsidered. He couldn't force Remy to stay here.

Remy continued to sip from his tea and his eyes wandered through the room. Père Etienne seemed to be very fond of books and scrolls. The shelves were stuffed and almost collapsed underneath the weight. Finally, he felt calm enough to lean back his head and he rested it against the wall. For the moment he was safe and warm. "Can' stay here," he whispered softly. He couldn't infringe on père Etienne and his mind was set. Once he'd calmed down, he was going to leave the church. The thought of returning to the busy streets upset him, but he had to find out who he was and he wouldn't find his answers hiding in this room.

But maybe he would take that shower first. He felt dirty and his clothes emanated a vile smell. After placing the mug on the floor, he slowly got to his feet. He felt tired to the bone and briefly he fantasized about returning to the bed and hiding underneath its covers. His feet dragged over the floor as he lacked the strength to properly lift them.

Père Etienne's bathroom was small, but warm and clean. Sighing heavily, he slipped out of his clothes and stepped into the shower cabin. He closed the cabin door behind him and turned on the water. It took him a moment to adjust the temperature. The warm water cascaded down his body and suddenly, everything came crushing in on him.

Why? Why had this happened to him? Upset, he stared at the metal bracelets. Why was he wearing them? They felt cold and the doctors couldn't cut through the metal. They'd never seen metal this strong!

Wet hair fell in front of his face and he forced back his tears. Crying wouldn't do him any good. He had to do this on his own!

Several minutes later, he emerged from the shower and grabbed the towels to dry his skin. Père Etienne must have collected his clothes, as they were gone. In their place he found briefs, jeans, a sweater, socks and some sneakers. "Merci," he whispered again. Then he noticed the small note next to the clothes.

"Dinner, 20.00 tonight," he read aloud. Kneeling on the floor he pressed the note to his chest. "Mebbe, père Etienne," he whispered in an uncertain tone. He shouldn't accept this invitation. Something bad would happen to the old priest for caring about him. He was bad luck!

Quickly, he slipped into his new clothes and put on the sneakers. Père Etienne had even got his size right! Feeling uncomfortable, he stole back to the kitchen. Maybe there was some bread that père Etienne could spare, but as he reached the kitchen table he froze. Père Etienne had placed a plate filled with sandwiches on it, along with milk and coffee.

He grabbed the sandwiches and quickly ate them. This food was his! In a hurry, he drowned the coffee and milk and then sneaked out of the priest's rooms and back to the crypts, leaving the same way he'd arrived. Hopefully no one would notice him.

///

Père Etienne sighed, seeing the empty kitchen table. He'd cleaned the bathroom and now he sat down to read in his bible. But every now and then his thoughts drifted off and he wondered where his young protégé was now. Irritated by his lack of concentration, he closed the bible and did the dishes instead. Then he collected the young man's dirty clothes. Out of habit, he first checked the pockets before putting the clothes in the laundry basket.

"What's this?" Curiously, he unfolded the piece of paper. "It's a prescription," he realized puzzled. The meds' names didn't mean a thing to him, but he tucked it away. Later today, he would get the meds and hopefully Remy would return this evening. There was so much he wanted to talk about!

///

Carefully, he plotted his route through the busy streets and slipped passed people who were rushing to get their groceries. This was one of the safer spots in the big city and he spent most of the day in the park, watching people, hoping someone would walk up to him and call him by his name.

Suddenly, goose bumps appear on his skin. Someone was watching him! As he scanned his surroundings, he quickly located the source of that stare. A man dressed in a grey suit, stared at him from underneath heavy eyebrows. The cold brown eyes were fixed on him.

"I need to get goin'," Remy realized. This man was up to no good. His wallet was probably filled with cash and his mind with obscene thoughts. He had to be more careful in future, move around more and refrain from drawing people's attention. Hopefully, this man wouldn't follow him.

He turned around a corner and found himself in a deserted alley. Not a good development, but maybe there was an open door and he could hide here. However, his luck had left him and he found himself with his back against a wall. A wall too high to climb.

"How much?"

The voice startled him and he quickly faced the man. Merde! The man had followed him and was now showing off dollar bills.

"How much for a quick fuck?"

Merde, merde, merde! Quickly, he searched for a way out. This wasn't the first man who thought he was selling his body! Why did they think that? Why?

"I'm waiting," the man said, growing impatient.

"I don' do dat for money," Remy replied eventually. "You got de wrong person."

"I don't think so," the man objected. "I saw you sitting in the park for hours. You're homeless and you need money. What about 50 dollars?"

"Non!" Remy insisted fiercely. "I ain' no whore!" His eyes returned to the wall. He was trapped.

"We both know that's a lie," the man quipped and drew 50 bucks from his wallet. "C'mon, don't play hard to get."

Remy's eyes narrowed behind the sunglasses. Looked like he'd have to fight his way out of this alley.

///

"Eight o'clock," père Etienne whispered with a sigh. "And no sign of Remiel." He'd made his rounds, had even locked the doors at a later hour, hoping Remy would accept his invitation after all.

On the kitchen counter sat the meds he'd picked up, just in case the young man needed them. "Mon Dieu, you let me find him. Please bring him back to your temple," he sighed distressed.

Although he'd lived most of his life inside church walls, he knew the bitter reality of the outside world. He'd seen children; young adults and even men and women his age live and die on the streets. At one point, he'd even volunteered to help out in a shelter, something his superiors had disliked, but couldn't forbid. "If someone needs help, it's you, mon fils. You're a lost soul." Oui, Remy acts tough, like he can handle everything the world throws at him, but during his tormented sleep, I saw through the mask. Remy's ill equipped to deal with true criminals.

He sat down and stared at the Gumbo. It was a leftover, but should fill their bellies just fine.

Today, he'd asked a few of the other priests if they'd seen a boy with red on black eyes in the church. But most of them had only been here a few years and couldn't help him. He was determined to ask Paul, a priest his age who had worked here for 20 years, and who would return to the cathedral tomorrow.

Suddenly, he caught a scraping sound, like feet dragging over the stone floor. He got up from his chair as quickly as he could. "Remiel, mon fils, is that you?"

"Oui, père," he whispered crestfallen and stepped into the room.

"Remy!" père Etienne exclaimed startled. "What happened to you? Come into the bathroom!" he commanded and picked up the first aid kit from the cupboard.

Slowly, Remy stumbled into the bathroom. Dried blood was tied into the lashes of his eyes and he couldn't exactly see where was going.

Père Etienne sat him down on one of the chairs he'd brought along from the living room. "You've fought!"

"Had no choice, père," Remy objected and hissed as père Etienne disinfected the cut just above his left eye.

Père Etienne decided not to comment on it, realizing there were several reasons why Remy could have ended up in a fight. But he hoped Remy hadn't resorted to stealing, had got caught and had run from the police. The youngster was already in dire straits! "Did you suffer more injuries?"

"I can take care of myself," Remy insisted in a pleading tone. The bastard had cornered him in the alley and had aimed his blows at his ribs, which hurt every time he breathed too deeply.

"Remy," he sighed the name. "Just tell me."

Hearing that name in such a gentle tone sparkled some kind of memory in his mind. Could it be his real name? Had people called him Remy before? Confused, he pushed the question back into a corner of his shadowed mind. "My wrist hurts," he admitted eventually. Père Etienne couldn't do anything for his aching ribs but a firm bandage around his right wrist might do wonders.

"Let me see if it's broken."

Remy watched the old priest, who now probed the extent of his injury. It was strange. Although père Etienne reminded him of the old man in his nightmares, he felt completely safe.

"It's not broken," père Etienne concluded, "but I'll bandage that wrist." In silence, he wrapped gauze around the injured wrist. "This bracelet… can you take it off? It's in the way."

"Don' know how. It has no lock." Apologetically, Remy shrugged his shoulders.

Père Etienne does his best to work around it. "I hoped you would be back, mon fils." Surprised, he registered the blush on Remy's face.

"I'm hungry," Remy admitted in a guilty tone. He wasn't sure he could steal the food he needed in his current condition.

"Let's eat then," père Etienne said resolved and waited for his protégé to get to his feet. "Hope you don't mind eating Gumbo again."

"Love Gumbo," Remy whispered. Feeling uncomfortable, he followed the priest into the kitchen. He still didn't understand why the man cared about him. "What?" he whispered stunned as his eyes drifted off into the bedroom. A mattress lay on the floor next to père Etienne's bed.

"You can sleep on that mattress. I need my own bed tonight." Père Etienne saw the lurking tears in the young man's eyes. "You thought I would throw you out, now didn't you?"

At a loss, Remy bit his lip.

"You don't know me very well, mon fils," he said in a kind tone and gestured Remy to sit down. "Before we start…" he folded his hands and whispered a prayer, thanking his Lord for the food. It didn't surprise him to hear Remy whisper the words too. A Catholic had raised this young man! "Bon appetite," he said and filled the bowls with hot soup.

Hungrily, Remy attacked the food, shoving bread and Gumbo into his mouth.

Amused, père Etienne looked at the shining red on black eyes. "I won't take the food away from you," he whispered and suddenly, his heart missed a beat. Had someone starved Remy in the past? No, why would they? He shrugged off that unsettling thought.

"Sorry," Remy whispered after swallowing his last mouthful of Gumbo. He was still hungry, but tried to ignore it.

"I got more sandwiches." Père Etienne pointed him to the fridge.

Embarrassed, Remy remained poised. "Don' want to eat all your food, père Etienne," he said guiltily.

"Mon fils, the church looks after its own," he berated Remy and shooed him over to the fridge. Pleased, he watched the young man as Remy devoured another plate filled with sandwiches. "Got you some sweats to sleep in," he said in a soft tone. "I'll turn in early today."

Remy couldn't help but grow suspicious at such generosity. "What do you want from me in return?" He desperately hoped that he hadn't made an error in judgement. What if père Etienne hid his vile perversions better than most men? He shuddered and pushed his chair away from the table.

The priest noticed the sudden distrust in the alien eyes and realized that this was their first moment of truth. "What I want? Nothing," he reassured Remy. "Well, you could do the dishes before turning in. My hands always cramp up in the water."

"Not'in' except for de dishes?" Remy stuttered in disbelief.

"But you're my guest. I should do them myself." Smiling warmly, he leaned back and watched as realization spread over Remy's face.

"I'll do de dishes," Remy replied confused and collected their bowls and plates. As he carried them to the sink, he noticed the two small packages on the kitchen counter. He recognized the names of the drugs. 'Did you…?" his voice trailed off.

"I found the prescription in your pocket and I picked them up. I'm sure the doctor wants you to take them for a good reason."

"They'll help me get my memory back," Remy mumbled absentmindedly, "but when I take dem I feel like de livin' dead. I feel…cut off and lost. Ain' want to be drugged."

"Think it over," père Etienne said and walked into his bedroom. "I'm going to sleep. Extinguish the candles before turning in, Remy."

The door closed and Remy stared at the meds. Père Etienne was right of course. But taking them meant that he'd be dead within hours. He couldn't survive like that on the streets!

While doing the dishes, he tried to figure out the priest. Père Etienne seemed a decent man. At least he hadn't taken advantage of him. Maybe he could learn to trust the priest.

Unwilling to go to sleep, he sat down in front of the fireplace, which still burned brightly. Hugging his waist, he rocked back and forth. He didn't want to go sleep, didn't want to return to that horrible place where the old man kept him prisoner. But while he struggled to stay awake, his eyes slipped shut and he drifted off into sleep.

///

St. Louis Cathedral

Worried, père Etienne remained poised in the doorway. In front of the fireplace sat Remy, shivering and shuddering. His young protégé was once again having a nightmares. However, last night had taught him not to walk away, so he pulled a chair close, sat down and studied the youngster.

"Remiel?" He said in a soft, determined tone. "Remy?" he tried again, almost automatically settling into using the shorter name. "You're having a nightmare," he whispered soothingly.

Remy rocked back and forth, desperately seeking comfort and craving safety. Père Etienne's voice managed to penetrate his mind and slowly he recognized the kind voice. The blanket of terror lifted from his mind.

"Remy?" Père Etienne placed a hesitant hand on the young man's shoulders. "You'll be more comfortable on the mattress." The red on black eyes revealed pain and shame.

"Don' want to sleep," Remy objected strongly, leaving his nightmare world behind. His watering eyes pleaded with the priest for understanding. "Don' want to go back dere, père."

"You dreamed of the old man again?" père Etienne asked, eager to get his guest underneath some blankets. The fire had died a long time ago and Remy needed to get warm.

Unsteadily, Remy rose to his feet. The nightmare had worn him down and he didn’t even consider objecting. "Don' want to sleep," he repeated stubbornly, but a moment later he lay down on the mattress.

Gentle hands tucked him in and stroked away stray locks from his face. Strangely enough, that touch didn't upset him. Those fingertips radiated concern and he smiled weakly. "Don' worry 'bout me, père Etienne. I can take care of myself."

"Non, you can't," père Etienne stated resolved and ignored the confused expression on his guest's face. "What did the old man do that scared you? Did he beat you again?"

Remy took a deep breath. He didn't really want to remember his nightmares, but realized that they held the key to his past and identity. "He said that my powers don' compare to his," he whispered eventually and his own answer puzzled him. "Don' know what he was talkin' 'bout."

Thoughtfully, he observed Remy and then reached a decision. "Listen to me, mon fils. You need sleep, but those nightmares keep haunting you."

Remy experienced a growing unease. "Oui?"

"I read the prescription's instructions, Remy. One of the drugs is designed to ensure an undisturbed sleep. It's only 23.00. Will you take one pill? It should lose its effect during the morning." Pleadingly, he locked eyes with the young man. "You need rest." He hoped Remy would consent to his proposal. "Otherwise the nightmares will never let you alone."

"Don' know, père," Remy replied confused, remembering how cut off he'd felt when the doctors had fed him those drugs. He didn't want to feel like a zombie again! But it was tempting… a night without nightmares…

"It's only sleeping medication. It's the other drug that makes you feel sedated," he soothed the young man. "I'll watch over you, make sure that nothing goes wrong." The promise hung in the room. "I'm serious, Remy. No harm will come to you."

Reluctantly, he gave in. Père Etienne's honest tone convinced him that the priest was serious. Oui, for some reason, the old priest cared for him. "I want to sleep… mais don' want de nightmares."

"Bien." Contented, père Etienne moved over to the kitchen to get the meds. From the corner of his eye he watched Remy, who was trying to hide underneath the blankets. The young man still shook violently. He wished there were a way to take away Remy's pain and fears.

Remy peeked from beneath the covers and sat upright as père Etienne returned with tea and the meds. The warmth and care in the old priest's eyes continued to baffle him and again he wondered why the priest cared that much about him.

"Sip slowly," he adviced and handed Remy the tea and meds. He watched closely, making sure the young man really swallowed the medication. He wouldn't put it passed Remy to only pretend taking the meds. "I won't let anyone harm you, mon fils." Reassuringly, he repeated his earlier promise.

After emptying the cup of tea he handed it back to the priest. "Don' know how to say dis," he started hesitantly. Pulling up the blankets to his chin, Remy slowly rocked back and forth. It was a strange habit and sometimes he felt the urge to bang the back of his head against the wall while he rocked.

"What is it, mon fils?" A little puzzled, he noticed the rising blush on the young man's cheeks. He'd never met someone craving this much acceptance and affection. "This old man hurt you pretty bad, non?" he realized eventually.

"Oui," Remy admitted with a sigh. A strange revelation hovered at the edges of his mind. Last night he'd begged père Etienne not to touch him and now… part of him wanted to be held and comforted so badly that it hurt. But he couldn't ask the priest to hold him. Père Etienne would never do that! Mais he's de only one you trust… de only close… a tiny voice berated him.

Instinctively, père Etienne recognized Remy's inner turmoil and slowly covered the young man's hands with his, squeezing them gently. "I'm here, mon fils. Now try to sleep?"

Reassured, Remy lay down again and stared at the ceiling. His breathing slowed down and père Etienne got back into bed as well. Suddenly, he realized that the old priest was still holding his right hand! Embarrassed, he wondered what to do. Pulling back felt inappropriate, but this put père Etienne's arm in an awkward position.

"Dormir bien, Remiel," père Etienne said and gave the icy hand one last squeeze. "My old bones," he whispered apologetically before slipping his hand back under the covers.

"Merci." His eyes dropped shut. Merde! Those drugs acted fast. His mind reeled and the room spun around him. But he couldn't deny the transcendent rest that overwhelmed him as his thoughts stopped running in circles. It was a pleasant fatigue; much different from the sedated state he'd been in during his time at the hospital.

Père Etienne noticed the now steady breathing and turned onto his left side so he could watch Remy's face in the half dark. There was a full moon tonight and the beams illuminated the bedroom. Too young, he mused. You're much too young to have suffered this greatly, mon fils, he mentally sighed and then closed his eyes as well.

Remy curled his body into a tight ball and released a deep breath. Relaxed, his thoughts drifted off, but this time the drugs kept his troubled dreams at bay. This time, he dreamed of an angel with fair hair, blue eyes and blue skin.

///

Père Etienne's face softened as a gentle smile melted into the deep lines, edged onto his brow. It was noon and his protégé was still asleep. Remy was so peacefully asleep that he couldn't find it in his heart to wake the young man. It was probably the first night of decent sleep the youngster had had in weeks, maybe even months!

He sat down and studied the handsome face, wondering how old Remy was. Taking an educated guess, he realized that his young guest couldn't be older than 25. Probably even younger. But he looks older because of the hard life he has lead. But hopefully that would change now.

He walked over to the cupboard, picked up plates and knives and retrieved several food items from the fridge. Maybe I should wake him. He needs to eat. Last night, he'd realized how skinny Remy was and he planned on remedying that. "Non," he whispered. "I'll wait until he wakes." The meds were finally working, giving the young man the rest he needed and he probably needed to catch up on a lot of sleep.

Eyes… Feeling eyes watch him, Remy leaped to his feet. Still drugged and sleepy eyed, he tried to keep his balance, but failed. He collapsed in a heap on the mattress. His instincts kicked in, but in his foggy state his reactions were belated.

"Remiel?" Père Etienne rose from his chair and moved over to the doorway. Wisely, he kept his distance. The young man's eyes looked haunted and he appeared ready to attack or defend himself from a possible assailant. What had happened to the youngster to cause these extreme reactions? "Remy?" he whispered softly. "It's me."

Even in his blurry state of mind Remy recognized the tender voice. "Père Etienne?" His eyes slipped shut again and he placed both hands on the mattress to steady himself. He nearly yelped as his right wrist cried out in protest. It might not be broken, but it was still heavily bruised.

"Oui," père Etienne replied, but didn't move any closer as he didn't want to scare the confused youngster. "Do you need help?" he offered in a friendly tone.

Breathing heavily, Remy struggled to regain control over his senses. "Feel like I'm still 'sleep," he murmured nervously.

"Take your time, mon fils," père Etienne advised. "Sit and wait for your mind to wake up as well. I'll fix you some coffee in the meantime."

Embarrassed and even ashamed of his clumsiness, Remy finally managed to sit cross-legged. Soft, pastel colors flashed in front of his eyes. The meds he'd taken last night only slowly lost their effect.

Père Etienne was probably right. Don' rush… he chided himself, but his instincts urged him to get moving. Sitting quiet like this made him an easy target. No one here, 'cept père Etienne and he won' hurt me… he reasoned with himself, but part of him refused to listen. People were always out to get him!

Patiently, père Etienne waited for his guest to join him in the small living room. Seeing the obvious panic on Remy's face saddened him. Even here, the young man didn't feel safe!

After long minutes Remy pushed himself onto his feet, using the wall as support. Confused, he realized that beams of warm sunlight caressed his skin. Can' be dat late! It should still be morning! He never slept this late!

Shakily, he made his way over to the table and sat down. His hands trembled as he reached for the coffee. "Don' feel bien…"

"But you slept for 12 hours without a single nightmare!" père Etienne pointed out to him and presented fresh fruits and sandwiches to his guest. "It's only normal that you feel shaky right now. It'll wear off."

"Should be on de streets 'ready," Remy mumbled uncomfortably. "Takin' up too much of your space and time, père." Sipping from the coffee, he started feeling alive again. But the priest was right. He'd had some wonderful dreams last night, which featured a beautiful woman with long white hair and eyes and… an angel. Can' mention dat too him! Père Etienne will t'ink I've gone insane after all!

"You can stay here as you long as you want. You don't need to leave during the day," père Etienne assures him. He distinctly notices the sluggishness in Remy's slow gestures. "You can't walk the streets like this, mon fils."

"I have to, père," Remy objected in an unsteady tone. "I need to find out who I am."

"Mon fils," père Etienne sighed the words. "I can't stop you from leaving, but please remember that I count on you to have dinner with me? You would greatly disappoint me by not visiting your old père Etienne." Although he was old, he still knew how to play people and this young man was an open book.

"Will be back, père Etienne," Remy promised in a sudden outburst of passion. "Will be back for dinner."

"Bien," père Etienne gave in. "Now eat, drink and be careful out there on the streets, Remiel!"

Remy smiled, hearing that name. "I'll be back," he repeated sincerely.

///

"I'll see you tomorrow, Rob," Warren said fatigued and marched out of the Louis XVI Restaurant in the French Quarter. Although the food had been excellent -not too spicy- he wanted to return to his penthouse at the Pontchartainhotel as quickly as possible.

New Orleans. He hated being here for more than one reason. His entire life he'd been forced to attend dusty business meetings because his business partners expected him to be interested in his holdings, but this visit was different.

This time he was here on dangerous business. After all these years, he was finally through with paying the Assassins' Guild protection money. His father had made the mistake of giving into their threats 40 years ago. The Assassins' Guild had threatened to kill his father and his family if he refused to cooperate. So, his father had given in.

Now, he'd put an end to it. Let them try and murder an X-Man!

Warren signaled his chauffeur that he wanted to walk back to the hotel and the limousine drove off. He needed a moment to clear his head. The Assassins' Guild already knew why he was here. He'd sent them a letter, stating that he wasn't sticking to their deal any longer. Their reaction had been… odd, to say the least. No threats, no letters, nothing. However, that didn't worry him. Or maybe I no longer care what happens to me? he mused. After Apocalypse his life had become a charade and he no longer felt like the man he used to be.

Slowly, his thoughts drifted back to the past. Everything had started in those damned Morlocks tunnels where Harpoon had almost destroyed his wings. But the worst part was that they could have been saved, if not a so-called friend of his had had them amputated!

And then… Apocalypse. His worst nightmare had become true when Apocalypse had turned him into Death, one of his four Horsemen. Only because of Rogue he'd managed to break away from Apocalypse! Subconsciously, he still hated himself for the pride he'd taken in being Death. Power and strength had filled him when those powerful wings had supplied him with a constant adrenaline rush!

He'd slipped into depression after coming to his senses. The impact of what he'd done had nearly crushed him. If it hadn't been for Bets he would never have pulled through.

But Bets… Warren felt melancholy. He'd lost Betsy's love a long time ago, but only a few weeks ago he had finally had the guts to face that truth. That shadow walking of hers gives me the creeps! After he'd found out that evil attracted her, he'd started to distance himself from her.

Bets was another reason for coming to New Orleans. They'd decided to stop seeing each other. He'd hoped that the time apart would convince him that he wanted her back but… I don't love her any more. Not like I used to!

Now, he was here on his own and maybe that was the most important reason why he'd told off the Assassins' Guild. Maybe, deep down in his heart he no longer cared. He didn't want to consider the possibility that he had a death wish. Not Warren Worthington the Third! Never!

The Assassins' Guild. He shivered, remembering that another Guild had a base in New Orleans; the Thieves Guild. That was one Guild he never wanted to come into contact with. Gambit… Remy LeBeau, son of Jean-Luc LeBeau, patriarch of the Thieves Guild. Just thinking that name angered him. A soft growl struggled from his throat. Gambit, the traitor was responsible for gathering the Marauders. Remy LeBeau had handpicked Harpoon himself!

But Gambit's dead! Warren remembered pleased. After I refused to continue to defend him, all hell broke loose and in the end, Rogue left him there to die! But although he felt pleased that Gambit had gotten what he deserved, he still had mixed feelings about the trial. Eric the Red had chosen him to defend Gambit and he'd accepted. But after hearing that Gambit had worked for Sinister, had gathered the Marauders, he'd told LeBeau to defend himself.

"And only minutes before that, I reminded Eric the Red that X-Men take care of each other!"

Feeling miserable for several reasons, he turned around the corner. It was only a 30 minutes walk to the hotel and he enjoyed being in the open air. At times like these, he craved pulling the restraints from his wings and simply take to the sky.

But that was impossible. He could only walk these streets unnoticed because of the image inducer he carried. His blue skin would instantly give him away and he didn't want to run any unnecessary risks. After all, he ran a business empire! And I DON'T have a death wish! he thought, trying hard to convince himself.

Gambit.. the name set off another rush of anger. The Cajun had fought at his side, but had never mentioning his involvement with Sinister. That was the thing that ticked him off most. Remy LeBeau had never admitted his part in the Massacre until the trial! The Cajun thief had pretended being his friend, knowing very well that it was one fat lie.

Remy LeBeau had cost him his wings and had heaped a lot of pain onto his soul. If it hadn't been for the damned Cajun, the Marauders would never have slaughtered the Morlocks! Gambit had led them into those tunnels! The Cajun had never cared about their lives, had only been interested in getting his money from Sinister!

Enraged, his hands clenched into fists and he wished that he could slam them into the wall right now, but that would only draw people's attention. No, not the wall, make that LeBeau's face! Now, that would be sweet justice and payback at the same time!

///

Feeling ill at ease, Remy's eyes scanned the surprisingly empty streets. It wasn't that late and he wondered where the stream of people had gone that had crowded the pavement only one hour ago. It was like the city was holding its breath in fearful apprehension, ready to reveal its worst secrets.

He only seldom visited this particular part of town, but something had drawn him here today. It was mostly upper class and the shop owners didn't like to see homeless people hanging around and usually called the cops.

Strategically, he chose a darkened, shadowed street corner and observed the few people passing him by. They were mostly businessmen, clad in expensive suits and carrying briefcases to emphasize their important position in this city. Their arrogant faces upset him; made him cringe in repressed anger. Only yesterday one of them had tried to 'buy' his services in that deserted alley. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his injured wrist. His ribs however, had stopped aching during the night.

He hated these men, who thought that they only had to show off their money to get what they wanted. Some of them only wanted his ass and when he refused, their injured pride drove them to extract revenge by beating him up.

"Not dis time. Never 'gain!" he vowed passionately. No man would ever touch him against his will again. It was bad enough that these nightmares tormented him, showed him what this old man had done to him in the past.

Soundlessly, he hid deeper in the shadows. His hands no longer trembled and relieved, he fumbled for that one sandwich he'd stowed away in the pocket of his coat before leaving the cathedral. From behind his sunglasses, his glance was drawn to one man in particular. Dressed in a hated grey business suit the man made his way across the street towards him. Entranced, he stared into hard blue eyes of steel, which held a strange attraction. Dey're beautiful! he realized startled, instinctively knowing that those eyes only were that hard because something soft and vulnerable hid behind them.

Helplessness washed through him as he found himself following the stranger. Unable to break free, he finally realized that those eyes had awoken a terrible need inside his soul, which now flared into life. As the man finally looked up, Remy noticed the anger edged onto the stranger's features and he was sorely tempted to retreat and stop this foolish quest for information. But something stronger than his fear pulled him forward. He needed to know where this man was staying!

Why? Why am I followin' him? I hate dese egocentric bastards! he wondered confused. The man's fine costume indicated that his wallet was filled with credit cards and hundred dollar bills. Cautiously, he pulled away from the shadows and ventured onto the pavement, as the stranger increased the distance between them. He pulled the hood of his coat over his head to conceal his face and pushed the sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose. Now that his face was obscured he covered some of the distance between them, but remained at a cautious distance.

What's dat? he wondered confused. One bright red light slowly moved over the stranger's back towards his neck. Goose flesh formed on his skin, realizing the danger the man was in. He didn't wonder why or how he knew this, he simply acted as a deeply ingrained training kicks in. Someone 's takin' aim! His own conclusion startled him. If I don' do anyt'in' de man's goin' to die! Although the stranger represented everything he hated, his conscience berated him. He had to stop the sniper! So he moved, quicker than he ever imagined possible. But even his dazzling speed couldn't save the stranger. A soft hiss filled the air as the laser hit target, taking the blue- eyed man down.

///

Warren yelped as something incredibly sharp cut through the bone of his right wing and into his back. In terrible pain, he staggered towards the wall. He'd never thought the assassins would react this quickly!

The pain became nearly unbearable and he swayed on his feet, holding onto the wall for support. He was an easy target here on the streets and he needed to find cover! Damn his arrogance! Damn his pride! It had been arrogant stupidity that had urged him to defy the Assassins' Guild! Maybe he had a death wish after all?

Unexpectedly, a hard body slammed into his, taking him down. What the hell was going on? Did the Assassins want to end this disagreement one on one? That hardly seemed their style, judging by that sniper attack!

The pain in his wing made him cringe and he bit his lip until it bled. Sucking in his breath, he tried to struggle free from the strong arms that enfolded his waist, but failed. The determined hands pulled him into a deserted alley and he realized his disadvantage. In this confined space he couldn't use his wings. Damn! He couldn't use his wings anyway. One had been damaged!

He refused to give into the pain and a frightening panic was born. His wing! They'd damaged his wing! Freaking out, his hands tried to claw at the restraints to establish the extent of damage done, but he felt strangely paralysed and could hardly move at all. An insane fear clawed away at his mind. His wing!

Still fighting unconsciousness, he panted, "Not again! Never again!" He wasn't going to lose his wings again! Not after all he'd been through to reclaim them! Apocalypse had made him pay a terrible prize, one he'd continue to pay for during the rest of his life!

"Don' fight me!"

The urgent voice cut through his crazed mind and he froze in horror. Bewildered, he leaned heavily on his saviour and searched for a face among the shadows. Sunglasses hit the pavement with a metallic bang and revealed red on black eyes.

Time stood still and then realization crushed in on him. "YOU!" he screamed in unbridled rage. The pain no longer mattered. The fear of losing his wing was forgotten. All that mattered right now was the terrified face that stared back at him. Red on black eyes! "You!"

Remy flinched uncontrollably as the fury in those blue eyes doubled. The man's tone was filled with hatred and rage and that hate was aimed at him! Why? He hadn't shot the stranger? Mebbe he t'inks I tried to kill him? The question, 'Do you know me?' burned his lips, but he was too scared to ask, fearing the possible answer.

But the stranger fainted and Remy could barely support his weight. His wrist sent waves of pain through his arm, but he managed to ignore the stinging ache and concentrated on tightening his hold on the stranger. "Got you," he whispered reassuringly, a little relieved that the man couldn't hear him.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed away the renewed ache, emanating from his ribs. This man needed him and he couldn't let him down! "Goin' to take of you," he promised determinedly. "Dey won' get to you!"

Why was he this concerned about someone he didn't know? Someone who'd stared at him with so much unspoken hatred in his eyes? But these eyes mirrored the angel's from his dreams.

What if that sniper had a perfectly sound reason for wanting to kill this man? What if this stranger was a crime lord, drug dealer or pimp? But somehow that didn't feel right. Although there had been hate in those orbs, he hadn't found any evil in them. An overwhelming urge to protect his man washed through him.

The man was too heavy to carry, so he dragged him through the alley and finally reached one of his hideaways. After kicking open the door, he dragged the unconscious man into a corner and helped him sit upright against the wall. Confused, Remy sat on his heels and wondered what to do next. Examine his injury? A warm feeling coursed through him now that he'd been able to help another person in need. Père Etienne had set the example. Père Etienne had taken him in and had cared for him. I can do de same for dis man! Hesitantly, he stroked a few stray strands out of the man's face.

Very gently, he took hold of the man's shoulders and rested the unconscious body against his chest, giving him free access to the injured area. Slowly he stripped off the man's jacket. Suddenly, electricity sizzled through the air, making him jump back. The stranger fell forward onto the dirty floor.

Remy blinked his eyes in bafflement. The man's whole appearance was changing! Holding his breath, he watched in disbelief. "Mon Dieu," he panted and backed further away from the stranger. His heart pounded madly in his throat and he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

A veil lifted from the man's face and revealed blue skin! BLUE SKIN! His mind felt strangely numb. Blue skin and blue eyes? "Mon Dieu!" he stuttered shocked. But the transformation continued and the fair hair turned into spun gold. Remy's eyes drifted lower and he panted slightly, gasping for much needed breath.

"Wings? White wings?" They sprang from the man's back and the feathers seemed soft and warm. "My dream… I saw you in my dream!" he realized in dread! His dreams couldn't come true! This couldn't be an angel!

Shocked, he kneeled beside the angelic creature and leaned in a little closer to stare at those magnificent wings. However, his heart missed a beat seeing the bloodstains defiling the right wing. There was even more blood on the man's white shirt.

Wings… feaders… blue skin… blue eyes… his head reeled and he was scared to speak. The sound of his voice might wake the angel and right now he didn't want to face those angry eyes. Maybe this angel had been sent to punish him? Why else would the angel stare at him in disgust like that?

But he needs help… Setting aside his fear, he realized that he needed to examine the injury to determine what kind of help the angel needed. But his hand remained poised in mid air. Can' touch an ange! he thought upset. His touch would certainly defile the celestial being!

His hand fell to the dirty and moist floor and his mind desperately searched for an acceptable reason to stall examining that wound. "Bandages… have to clean de wound… painkillers," he whispered uncomfortably. But in order to buy those things, he needed money! Money, which he didn't have!

But maybe his angel had the necessary cash! However, searching an angel's pockets seemed inappropriate and he pulled back. Shivering, he wished the angel would wake up and tell him what to do!

A strangled moan fled the man's lips and urged Remy into action. Maybe he was breaking certain rules here, but he had to do something! So, he pushed the angel back into a sitting position and, after taking a deep breath, allowed his fingers to stroll down the angel's back. The feeling that washed through him as he touched the feathers of those fabulous wings, took him aback.

An ange… I'm holdin' an ange in my arms! He shook his head as an unexpected tear broke free from his eyes. He'd always hoped angels existed, but had never expected to ever meet one, even less hold one in his arms! "Don' care what you'll do to me once you wake," he whispered respectfully. "Merci for dis gift."

But a droplet of blood fell onto the back of his hand and reminded him of the seriousness of the situation. "Sorry, mon ange, mais I need de money." His left hands searched for the wallet while supporting the unconscious body with his own. This angel felt surprisingly soft and warm. It only took him a moment to locate the wallet and then he slipped it out of the pocket. With a quick flip, he opened it. "Don' want to steal," he assured the angel, "mais I need de money to pay for your meds."

Looking through the wallet's content, he grew curious. He took out one hundred dollar and stuffed it away in his own pocket. That would cover most expenses.

Curiosity got the better of him and he scanned the name signed on the credit cards. "Warren Wort'ington…" he whispered and shivered violently. That name felt damned familiar! That name… "Do I know you? Non, did I know you?" he asksed aloud.

The angel didn't answer him, but at least now he knew his name. "Warren?" he whispered and smiled nervously. The name seemed oddly off. Maybe his subconscious had hoped that the angel's name might be Michael or Raphael.

Another soft mew of agony filled his ears and he quickly looked about. This wasn't the best place to nurse an angel back to health. They were hiding in the basement of a condemned building and it was cold and damp.

"I hid blankets in here," he suddenly remembered and rested Warren's body back against the wall. Methodically, he searched the basement until he found the two torn and dirty blankets. They'd have to do for now.

"I'll be back," he promised as he tucked the angel in. "Will take me 'bout 20 minutes to return." He knew very well that Warren couldn't hear him, but the sound of his own voice soothed him. "Trust me, mon ange."

Père Etienne! The name suddenly cut through his mind. Maybe the old priest could help! But the cathedral was too far away and he needed to disinfect the wound first and bandage the wing! No, he couldn't go to père Etienne now and had to break his promise. The angel needed him most!

After making sure that Warren rested as comfortably as possible, he stole over to the doorway, fumbling for the bills in his pocket. He didn't want to leave this angel alone in his current state but had no choice. "Will be back," he whispered one last time and then fled the room.

///

It took Remy over an hour to buy all necessary items, bandages, painkillers and a balm to fight off a possible infection. The little amount of money he had left, he used to buy sandwiches and orange juice. Normally, he'd search the garbage cans for something edible, but Warren's money enabled him to buy proper food for a change.

He sneaked back into the abandoned house and covered up the entrance so no one could find them. The sniper especially worried him and he needed to convince Warren to stay hidden until the coast was safe. But would the injured angel listen to him?

Cautiously, he sneaked closer. His angel hadn't moved since he'd left and a pool of blood had formed underneath the unconscious body. Not wasting a single moment, Remy hurried over to his side and kneeled. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around Warren and pulled him over to a warmer corner. The blankets dragged over the floor, leaving behind a trail of blood. There was so much blood that he feared his help might come too late, but determinedly, he stripped off the blankets and probed the injury with his fingers.

"Goin' to take care of you," he promised sincerely. After resting the man's body against his chest, he applied the balm, hoping the wound wasn't infected yet. Next, he bandaged the man's back and shoulder, pulling the bandages tight, as he hoped it'd stop or slow down the bleeding.

But as he moved to examine the wing itself, his hands faltered. He was hesitant to touch those magnificent feathers, even if they were stained with blood. This angel meant the world to him and he was still trying to figure out why. And those wings… An angel's wings… and he was touching them!

There was no way back for him and his trembling fingers gingerly examined the wound. Relieved, he found that the wing itself wasn't hurt that badly. The blood emanated from the man's back and he only located a small puncture in the wing's bone. He couldn't do much about that. The bone needed time to heal. But just to be on the safe side, he covered the puncture with the balm.

The feathers felt so damned soft to his fingers and astonished, he realized that his eyes are watering. Why were these wings so important to him? "You'll fly 'gain, mon ange," he said reassuringly. But the unconscious man didn't respond and Remy smiled melancholy. For some reason he had been chosen to take care of this angel and he vowed not to let Warren down.

He checked on the bandages to make sure that they weren't too tight. Bien. But now his angel was shivering due to a feverish cold and reacting instinctively, he slipped out of his own long coat. Tenderly, he wrapped up the shuddering angel in the coat and then covered him with the blankets as well.

A few feet away from Warren, he sat on his heels, studying the unconscious angel. There was nothing else he'd do, except for a quick prayer that his angel would survive the night.

///

Hour after hour passed by. His teeth chattered due to the cold, but he knew instinctively that his angel needed the blankets more. Trying to distract himself, Remy's thoughts drifted back to père Etienne. The old priest was probably greatly worried. It crossed his mind to give père Etienne a call, but he couldn't bring himself to leave his angel alone.

His biological clock told him that it was way passed midnight and the night was still growing colder. But he could beat the cold. He'd learned to detach himself from it when he'd been still a child. Jus' t'ink 'bout père Etienne's warm rooms! he chided himself privately. Oui, he could beat this cold. Almost lured into sleep, he startled as Warren released a strangled scream.

"Don't!" Warren suddenly yelled, lost in his own nightmares. "My wings!"

He wanted to soothe the confused angel and so he crawled closer. But shame and a sudden sense of self-loathing kept him back. He didn't deserve it to comfort this angel. Something told him to keep a respectful distance.

So, he listened in fear to the angel's continuing yelps, even covered his ears to shut them out, but failed. He knew what it felt like to be trapped in those nightmares, but he couldn't cross that line, couldn't comfort his angel.

In a fear ridden delirium Warren lost himself in the nightmares. His yelps turned into strangled moans of pain. Apocalypse's face haunted every corner of his shadowed mind and he couldn't outrun the bastard. Apocalypse's voice sounded in his ears, promising him new wings to replace the old ones, which he'd lost. He still hated himself for even listening to Apocalypse's offer!

Remy's hands still covered his ears and he bit his lip, trying to shut out the yelps. He didn't want to hear them! They reminded him too much of his own pain!

"Stop… Stop…" Warren whispered helplessly, trying to keep Apocalypse from realizing his insane plans. "Don't turn me into Death!"

"Can' help you," Remy mumbled in return. Warren's pain was almost tangible and slowly choked him. Eventually, unable to stop himself, he moved close enough to touch his angel. Very hesitantly, almost certain that the heavens would strike him down, he folded one arm around the angel's shoulders. He encountered no resistance and continued to pull Warren close, careful avoiding putting pressure on the injury.

Instinctively, Warren reacted to the proximity of a warm body offering him comfort, and he surrendered to the embrace. I'm not alone, he realized relieved. Someone was holding him, soothing his troubled dreams. His tangled nightmares subdued as he allowed himself to be held and eventually rocked.

This presence felt warm and even protective. When had been the last time someone had done this for him? Bets had made it very clear that she expected him to work through this by himself. Yes, she'd offered comfort, but he couldn't let go in her presence, not like he was doing now. Bets expected him to be strong, but deep down, he had always known that she didn't really love him. She loved his appearance, his power, even his strength, but she hated his weaknesses.

When had been the last time that someone had held him like this? His father had… when he had only been a child. His father had sometimes pulled him on his lap and had told him about his mother. At times, they'd both ended up crying.

"Let go, mon ange."

The soft, nearly hypnotic voice drove his thoughts away from the past and he surrendered to the present. All that mattered right now was that he wasn't alone any longer. Warren let go, cuddled up to this warm body and released a deep sigh. For the first time in years he felt sheltered and cherished.

Confused, Remy wrapped both arms around the cold frame and held him tight. But his body almost froze as Warren rested his head against his chest, snuggling up to him. Small tremors shook his hands as he stroked back the golden hair. Did this mean that the angel trusted him to take care of him? Him? Le diable blanc? Remy pulled up his legs, wrapped his body around Warren's and offered his little body warmth to his icy angel.

///

A warm beam of sunlight woke Remy the next morning. His eyes flashed open, feeling another warm body pressed against his. Warren lay nestled in his lap and his body reacted automatically to the warm pressure. "Merde!" he cursed softly, as he grew aroused. Determinedly, Remy fought it down.

This is an ange! Mon Dieu! I can' feel dis way for an ange. It's disrespectful! But hell, he couldn't help feeling the way he did. Got to be stronger dan dis feelin'!

Remy tried to creep away, but Warren clung to his warmth and refused to let go. Remy couldn't use force to free himself, too scared he'd worsen the injury, and so he gave in eventually and continued to hold his angel. He still couldn't believe that the angel wanted to be held like this!

"You need to eat, drink, get better," Remy whispered absentmindedly, trying hard not to think of this warm and desirable body pressed into his. "Once you can walk 'gain, I'll take you to père Etienne. He'll know what to do." The sound of his own voice scared him and he grew quiet.

Tenderly, he tried to wake his angel. They couldn't stay in this damp basement much longer. Warren needed to be somewhere warm and clean. This damp environment would only worsen the angel's condition. Suddenly, a terrible apprehension swept through him, remembering the rage in those blue eyes as they'd locked with his. The angel obviously knew him… knew about his sins. But he had to persevere now. "Wake up, mon ange… please?" Maybe hearing his real name would wake the unconscious man? "You've got to wake up, Warren!"

Through a fog of pain, Warren registered the voice calling his name. Wake up? he thought alarmed. When had he fallen asleep in the first place? A sharp pain slashed through his back and then he remembered the sniper's attack. The assassin had shot him in the back, the coward! But what had happened after he'd been hit?

A hard body had taken him down… Out of the shadows the eyes had risen, burning into his soul. Red on black eyes! He'd recognized them instantly; they belonged to the traitor LeBeau. But one thing had seemed oddly out of place. Those eyes had radiated fear, pain and terror. Inappropriate emotions for those demonic eyes!

"Wake up, mon ange!"

The insistent voice pushed him into consciousness and slowly, his eyes fluttered open.

Remy immediately freed himself of the embrace and retreated into a corner, worried about Warren's possible reaction and waited for his angel to make the first move. Afraid, he wondered if the angel would punish him for touching his wings.

Warren cringed, as the pain in his back intensified. Don't move! Moving about will only make things worse! His wings! Automatically, his fingers checked on his wing. It was still there. A terrible fear glided off his shoulders. But someone had bandaged his wing… LeBeau? Why would he care?

"Are you in pain?"

That voice! That voice! Although it had been months since he'd last heard it, he knew it only too well. It was Gambit, who hunched down in the cornier. "You!" he exclaimed in an odd mix of hatred and curiosity

Remy pulled back into himself, protectively folding his arms around his waist. Terrible recognition burned those steel blue eyes. Only a moment ago he'd wanted to ask Warren who he was, but now his courage had left him. Mebbe I don' want to know who I am? Not if de trut' is dat terrible? It took Remy his remaining courage to ask, "Can you walk? Want to take you some place safe."

"Do you think I'm fool?" Warren stated in disbelief. "No way I'll ever again trust you, Gambit. And what the hell are you doing here?" The last thing he'd heard from the X-Men was that Gambit had died in Antarctica. Rogue had sought him out, assuring him that the Cajun thief had paid the prize for betraying their trust.

Remy trembled violently hearing that name. Gambit? Was that his real name? Don' want to know! Ain' goin' to ask! Gambit, the name echoed pain and guilt and his mind spun. For some unknown reason he resented that name and the terror connected to it.

Warren managed to study Remy's reaction through the mist of his own pain and shook his head in disbelief. Why was the Cajun acting like he'd never heard his name before? "What games are you playing this time, thief?"

"T'ief?" Remy repeated stunned. Oui, he'd stolen food and clothes in the past, but only to survive on the streets. Even a saint would turn into a thief to fill his belly! Wasn't the angel's judgement a little harsh? Well, maybe this angel knew the part of his past he'd forgotten? Doubtlessly, this angel knew everything about him, every sin he'd ever committed. No use in hiding from the truth. With every passing second he became more convinced that this angel was here to punish him for his past crimes! But maybe he could try and redeem himself if he helped this angel. "We need to leave dis place. It's too cold and you need to get warm."

Warren's eyes narrowed in suspicion. The Cajun was a better actor than he'd ever suspected! As he focused on those demonic eyes, he only found sincere concern and pain. And why did LeBeau look like that? Why was he dressed in clothes several sizes too big for him? A deep cut disfigured his brow, still dripping blood from underneath a dirty band-aid. Only now, he saw the bandaged wrist. This didn't make any sense!

"What do you want from me, Gambit? Haven't you done enough damage already?" Warren sneered impatiently, remembering their shared past. In an effort to get to his feet, he moved too quickly and grew dizzy. LeBeau still stared at him with that blank expression in his eyes.

Remy bit his lip. "Gambit? Is dat my real name?" He'd struggled to reach that decision, to actually ask that question. Now that he awaited the answer, he grew afraid. "And why do you t'ink I'm playin' games?"

Warren quickly rested his back against the wall for support and studied the Cajun's empty eyes. Something was wrong here. Why would Gambit pretend ignorance? "Of course it's your name, Gambit!"

"Gambit," he whispered the name, resenting it. If that was his name he hated it with a passion.

Warren slowly shook his head in puzzlement. He was trying hard to figure out just what was going on. LeBeau looked like he'd neglected himself, hungry and drained. This wasn't the Remy LeBeau he'd known! Okay, let's recap. LeBeau doesn't know his name, or who he really is. But damned! He saved my life out there on the streets! If he hadn't pulled me into that alley, that sniper would have succeeded in killing me! Oh, how much he hated to admit that truth; that he owed Gambit!

Remy shook off his unease and hesitantly extended his left hand. "Got to get you out of here." He half hoped that Warren would refuse help and would walk away from him. Suddenly, he feared discovering his real identity.

Looking at the offered limb Warren wavered. I've got make a decision right now. He couldn't make it on his own. He needed LeBeau's help if he wanted to stay one step ahead of the assassins! But he no longer trusted Gambit, not after the trial and learning the truth about LeBeau's part in the Massacre. I don't trust him. Had he ever trusted Gambit?

"Here," Remy said softly, faintly aware of Warren's inner struggle. "You need to eat and drink. Bought dis for you." Slowly, he picked up the package, unwrapped it and offered Warren the sandwiches. Although he was hungry like hell he hadn't eaten the sandwiches himself, knowing his angel needed food to grow strong again.

Warren raised a questioning eyebrow, as the sound of Remy's growling stomach echoed through the basement. Briefly, he closed his eyes, trying to make sense of this unusual situation. What if LeBeau was sincere and really wanted to help him? Damn! He needed more information! Another wave of growling drifted closer. "Looks like you're hungry too, Gambit," he said eventually, deciding on a course of action.

"I can do widout de food," Remy said awkwardly. He felt relieved now Warren calmed down. Gambit, he mused nervously. Like Remiel, Remy a lot better!

"I still don't get it," Warren stated unexpectedly. "Why help me, Gambit?"

"Dey wanted you dead," Remy replied simply. "Can' let dem murder an ange…"

Warren accepted the sandwiches, but returned a still half full bag to the Cajun. "You look like you need the food more than I do."

Hungrily, Remy attacked the food. "Merci," he said and smiled brilliantly.

Warren took a deep breath. Remy was shoving the food as quickly as possible into his mouth. Almost looks like he expects me to take the sandwiches away again, he mused privately. "Where do we go from here?" he asked, shivering due to the moisture hanging in the basement. A million questions burned his lips, but what he really wanted to know is; Why did you save my life, LeBeau?

"I've got a friend in de cat'edral," Remy explained in a proud tone. "Père Etienne will help you." His face softened as he thought of the old priest. "He even gave me my name, Remiel… after de ange of mercy. And when I saw dose wings," Remy stopped himself just in time before he got carried away. Warren wasn't interested in this information. "I always believed in anges."

Warren swallowed hard, finally starting to understand why LeBeau was acting like this. "You lost your memory!"

"Oui," Remy admitted in a soft tone. "Don' know who I am. Only remember wakin' up in a hospital. Don' know who I am… but you do and… dat frightens me!" There, he'd said it! Trembling, he avoided Warren's blue eyes.

Everything finally sunk in. Remy's admissions suddenly made sense. But what about that 'I always believed in angels bit? The honesty in those words hit hard. LeBeau thinks I'm a REAL angel! Damn! Even the reverie in LeBeau's eyes made sense now. "Let's get moving," he decided eventually and took a first hesitant step. He had a lot of thinking to do and needed time to do that. His back hurt, but it was bearable.

"Mais oui." Remy moved quickly to support Warren and expected to be pushed away, judging from earlier reactions.

And yes, Warren considered pushing him away, but as he fell forward, he quickly held onto the arm LeBeau had slung around his waist. He hated being depended like this!

"I've got you, mon ange," Remy whispered softly. Thinking aloud he continued, "Père Etienne named me Remy… got no idea what my real name is and Gambit…"

Warren froze in his movements and stared at the Cajun. "Your real name's Remy." Why did he suddenly care about LeBeau? But the lost expression in those pleading eyes tore straight into his heart. How could he possibly stay angry with LeBeau, when the man didn't remember who he was? When the man had saved his life, without knowing he'd saved the life of a team-mate?

"Remy?" A smile flashed alive on his features. "Remy's my real name? How did père Etienne know dat?"

Warren couldn't help making the next remark. The absurdity of the situation got to him. "Maybe an angel whispered the name into his ear?"

Remy grinned awkwardly. Perhaps learning about his real identity wasn't that bad after all? Something in those blue eyes softened and reassured him a little. But the rage still hid underneath the blue surface.

Warren was shocked at his own reactions. What the hell was he doing; trusting LeBeau like that? The Cajun couldn't be trusted! But he couldn't stop himself from holding on tight as Remy pulled him along. There were a lot of unresolved issues between them and maybe it was time to start working through them!

///

It was still dark enough outside for them to make their way to the cathedral unnoticed. Warren let Remy guide their steps, realizing he had no clue where they were going. If it were up to him, he would immediately return to his hotel. He leaned heavily on the Cajun, but was still lucid enough to notice that LeBeau's steps faltered too.

"We should go to my hotel, not some deserted church," Warren objected again. His knees were about to give out on him and he'd probably take down Gambit as well should he fall. Although Remy was trying to act like he was fine, Warren distinctly remembered his bandaged wrist.

"Non, that would be stupid," Remy replied fatigued. He already explained this! "Whoever wants you dead is waitin' for you back at your hotel!"

Damn, Cajun's right! Warren hadn't really thought that far ahead, or maybe it was the painkiller that messed with his mind? "How much longer?" he asked, tired and eager to rest.

"We're almost dere," Remy said reassuringly and led them inside the abandoned crypts.

Suddenly, Warren realized where they were. "What are we doing here?" His skin turned to goose flesh as Remy dragged him passed the long forgotten graves. This place reminded him of the Morlock tunnels and it gave him the creeps!

"De dead can' hurt you," Remy whispered in a respectful tone. "And we can' hurt dem."

Warren gave him a questioning look, never expecting such a remark from LeBeau. It only served to remind him that Gambit had really lost his memory. He was determined to talk this over once they'd reached their destination.

"Père Etienne locks de doors at 20.00. Dis is our only way in." Remy looked about, picked the right corridor and gathered his last amount of strength. He practically dragged Warren through the corridor and he wasn't sure he could make it to père Etienne's rooms, tired and exhausted as he was.

"Gambit," Warren started, feeling the fierce flinch of the body supporting him and wondered about LeBeau's reaction. "I can't walk much farther." Truth be told, he felt like fainting every moment now.

Remy gritted his teeth and pulled his angel into père Etienne's rooms. "Père? You here?" he called out softly. The priest was probably soundly asleep, but as he peeked into the bedroom he found it empty.

Suddenly, Warren dropped to his knees and Remy went down as well. "De bedroom," he whispered. "You'll be warm dere."

Warren heard the words, but couldn't move. He felt paralysed and his injury acted up again. Warm blood dripped down the bandages. The wound had opened again.

As he looked up, Remy saw the pain in those blue eyes. Something warm dripped onto his left hand and his heart missed a beat, realizing it was blood. Can' give up now! Get to your feet! Remy chided himself privately. He swayed, but somehow he managed to pull Warren onto his feet as well. Slowly, he carried the nearly unconscious man into the bedroom. "Lie down," he instructed in a soft tone.

Warren suddenly realized what tight hold he had on LeBeau. His right fist refused to let go and had buried itself in Gambit's shirt.

"It's 'kay, ange. You're safe here… mais, I've got to redress de wound." Remy quickly retrieved the small bag and started laying out new bandages, balm and painkillers. Maybe he should give Warren something against the pain first. "Be right back."

Through half closed eyelids Warren watched him hurry into the kitchen. These last few hours had turned his world upside down. He desperately wanted to find out what had happened to Gambit after Antarctica, but he also realized that Remy didn't have any answers as long as he was amnesic. And what to tell the Cajun and what to leave out? Darn! He had so much thinking to do, but he felt so weak from the recent blood loss.

"Here, take dese," Remy kneeled beside the bed and slipped one hand underneath Warren's neck. "Dey'll take 'way de pain."

Warren stared at the pills in the palm of LeBeau's hand. He didn't have a valid reason to distrust the Cajun right now, but…

But the suspicious look Warren shot him made Remy choke up. His angel didn't trust him and that hurt. "I won' hurt you," he promised in a burst of passion.

Hearing that last assurance urged Warren to lock eyes with Remy. Honestly, he hardly recognized the thief he'd once known in the man kneeling next to his bed. Remy's face was an open book, asking for trust and filled with a promise that he'd take care of him.

I hate him! Warren thought resolved. I hate LeBeau! He worked for Sinister and never told us! If he hadn't gathered the Marauders, the Massacre would never have happened!

Are you so sure about that? Warren's conscience replied in a berating tone. What if Remy LeBeau refused to work for Sinister? Someone else would have taken his place. Sinister wanted the Morlocks dead. Gambit never knew Sinister's real plan. Remy LeBeau was only an instrument and you know it

Shut up! Warren thought angrily. He never had the courage to ponder all possibilities, fearing the outcome. What if he'd misjudged LeBeau in the past?

"Ange? You listenin'?" Remy asked concerned. He was still offering Warren the painkillers, hoping the man would accept them. He hated the fact that his angel was in pain. "Changin' de bandages will hurt."

With a deep sigh, Warren nodded his head and swallowed the pills along with a sip of water. "Now what?"

"Lean 'gainst me," Remy said gently and picked up the balm and bandages. "Your wound's open 'gain."

Reluctantly, Warren obeyed and sat upright. Suddenly, Remy's hands pulled him forward until his head rested on LeBeau's shoulder. Feeling uncomfortable, he forced himself to remain motionless as Gambit removed the blood-drenched bandages.

Remy worked in silence, concentrating on his task and managed to remove the bandages without causing Warren pain. "Dat's better," he mumbled pleased. "De wound shows no sign of infection."

But Warren barely heard the words, struck by the tenderness displayed in Remy's ministrations. Each time those fingertips smoothed the balm over his back they expressed such care and caution that it made him look up into those red on black eyes. "Gambit?" he whispered eventually and again the Cajun's body rocked with tremors. Why did Gambit react like that whenever he heard his name? Warren tried a different approach. "Remy?"

This time, Remy looked up and felt courageous enough to lock eyes with Warren. "Oui?" He put away the balm and finished dressing the wound. Bien, that looked just fine.

Speechless, Warren stared into helpless eyes. "Thanks," he mumbled eventually. The question he'd originally wanted to ask, was forgotten. "You're not faking this," he realized in sudden understanding. "You have no idea who you are, or who I am," he stated with frightening certainty.

Remy tried to get to his feet, but Warren had a tight hold on his left wrist. Thankfully, it wasn't his right one, which pounded with pain. Lost for words, he couldn't offer Warren an explanation.

Eventually, Warren released him and shook his head. "You'll tell me what you remember when I feel better."

Remy nodded his head. "If dat's what you want, mais now you need to rest."

Again, the sincerity in that voice took Warren aback. Damn! Seeing the reverie in those eyes made him feel uncomfortable. I have to tell him I'm a mutant and no real angel! he realized just before falling asleep.

Pleased, Remy smiled and covered his angel with warm blankets. He'd start a fire in the fireplace to raise the temperature. Sitting down on the side of the bed he fingered a golden lock, savouring its softness. In the end, his angel had trusted him after all! Feeling victorious, he tucked Warren in and then left to start the fire.

///

Two hours later, Remy still sat in front of the fireplace. Warren was soundly asleep and not suffering from any nightmares, so Remy used these moments to think things over.

Gambit.

Instinctively, he knew it was his name, but he still hated it and it was obvious that Warren disliked his company. Warren only tolerated his presence because he had no choice! With a deep sigh, Remy tried to distract himself and read the instructions on his sleeping meds.

Père Etienne had convinced him to take one and he'd slept surprisingly well. But the priest wasn't here now and he had to look after a wounded angel. Although his eyes closed regularly, he struggled to stay awake. He had to be awake in case his angel needed him.

Slowly, feeling stiff and too old for his age, he rose from the floor. He threw the meds onto the kitchen table and then headed into the bedroom. Warren was asleep, resting on his left side and his wings covered most of the bed and pushed against the wall. Every so often, they quivered.

Unable to just stand there Remy approached the bed and sucked in a deep breath. Just one more time… he prayed privately. He wanted to touch those wings one more time, just to convince himself that they were fine.

Hesitantly, his left hand descended onto the left wing and he gently stroked the feathers. Warren released a strangled moan and Remy jumped back, afraid that his action would disturb his angel's sleep.

Mon ange. Slowly, he realized that he'd been thinking like that ever since this angel had crossed his path. His angel. He couldn't explain this reaction. It was something that went too deep for him to understand and it was probably tied to a past he didn't remember.

Mais oui, you're mon ange. I'll care for you as long as you need me. I won' let dem kill you. Won' let dem. You're bad off wid me as your protector. I can hardly defend myself and now I need to take care of you too! Mais I will do my best!

Remy pulled the mattress, which père Etienne had offered him, closer to the bed and lay down. Not goin' to take de meds, he decided saddened. Oui, he wanted to sleep without being tormented by nightmares, but he couldn't run the risk that Warren needed him. Sedated, he was useless to his angel. Non, it was his duty to keep a vigil and stay awake as long as necessary.

Five minutes later, Remy slipped into sleep without ever realizing it.

///

"These are your new wings… Death."

Warren screamed, as that ominous voice roared through his mind. Apocalypse's eyes stared at him and the abysmal face transformed into a mask of horror. "No!" he screamed in panic. "Don't do this to me!"

But Apocalypse didn't listen to his pleas. The bastard never had and again he re-lived the pain of those wings bursting from his back, settling against his shoulders with an awful heavy weight. "These aren't my wings!" Warren pleaded in a choked tone. "Please let me go!"

"No," Apocalypse's voice boomed. "I got plans for you!"

And then… then his mind jumped to the moment when the metal/organic wings gave way for his old feathered ones. An old man hovered above him, telling him that he was Apocalypse's servant. He instinctively knew that Apocalypse had planned this from the start and Warren tried to hide his fear. "What do you want from me?" he moaned in pain.

"Ange?" Remy quickly crawled over to the bed. He was alarmed, realizing that Warren wanted to leave his bed. "Stay, ange, you can' walk on your own!"

But Warren never registered the words. Apocalypse's face hovered in front of him and the words cut through his soul.

"Angel of hope," Apocalypse sneered. "How can you possibly think of yourself in that way? You don't bring hope. You bring death and destruction. You judge without compassion or understanding. Yes, you will make an excellent Horseman!"

"No." This time, Warren only managed a whimper. "Please leave me alone!"

Confused, Remy kneeled next to the bed. Warren struggled with the blankets, which wrapped themselves tighter around his fighting body "What can I do?" he asked helplessly. Remy knew only too well that nightmares could push someone over the edge, make someone violent out of fear. "Want to help."

From somewhere a different voice called out to him and it slowly pushed Apocalypse's face away. Gambit, Warren realized with a start; the traitor who was responsible for his misery! LeBeau had gathered the Marauders who had damaged his wings! His eyes flashed open and he wanted to lash out at the Cajun, when pleading eyes suddenly stopped him. Those eyes, Warren realized with a start, are filled with pain like mine. That realization calmed him down.

"You had a nightmare," Remy said awkwardly, trying to break the silence that lingered between them. He'd truly expected Warren to attack him. For one brief moment the hatred in those blue eyes had been aimed at him with frightening intensity. What had he done to cause such pain and why didn't the angel just tell him what a terrible bastard he really was? Warren certainly had a valid reason to hate him. What had he done in the past that justified such hate?

"I know that!" Warren snarled and leaned back into the pillows. Gambit's presence had pulled him away from the nightmare and for that he should feel grateful, but he didn't. After all, the thief had caused his pain in the first place!

"Want to talk 'bout it?" Remy suggested cautiously. " I felt better after talkin' to père Etienne. I'll listen… not talk…"

Warren considered the offer. Sooner or later, they'd have to face their past. Better start now. "Get me something to drink," Warren said in an authoritative tone. "Please," he added eventually.

Hearing that little word brightened Remy's face and he smiled. "Mais oui!" A moment later, he returned with a cup of père Etienne's herbal tea. "It's hot," he warned Warren and allowed him to take a small sip.

Warren sighed heavily. Remy's current behavior confused him greatly and he didn’t know what to say, or how to react to this quickly frightened Cajun. Best to handle this carefully. "Do you remember Apocalypse?" he said after taking another sip of his tea. Remy's fingers twitched and the Cajun's face grows pale. At least I'm getting some kind of response!

"Apocalypse?" Remy repeated mystified. The name set off a burst of fear, but he didn't know why. "Not sure?" he said eventually. "Mais I don' like de name. Did he hurt you?"

Remy's child-like manner put him off-balance and Warren didn't know how to reply. But in the end the words came surprisingly easy. "He violated my soul."

Remy shivered, remembering the old man that haunted his own dreams. "I'm so sorry," he admitted in a shaky tone. Now that they were opening Pandora's box anyway, he felt the time had come to ask his other questions as well. "Why do you hate me? What did I do to you? When did we meet? What kind of person am I?" He lost control over his emotions and quickly retreated to the doorway.

Warren pushed his back deeper into the comfort of the pillows and considered his answers. Damn, this was hard! When he'd first seen those eyes, he'd just wanted to lash out and hurt LeBeau for all the pain the Cajun had put him through, but something had changed.

He wasn't sure what had caused it, but he simply couldn't hurt Gambit intentionally. The expression in those demon eyes tore at his soul and Apocalypse's words returned to mock him.

Angel of hope? How can you possibly think of yourself in that way? You don't bring hope. You bring death and destruction. You judge without compassion or understanding/

That statement made him cringe in shock. Damn! Apocalypse was right! He always prided himself on bringing hope. His angel wings had always inspired him to fight for good, but time after time he'd failed. Yes, he'd judged LeBeau during that trial in Antarctica, telling the Cajun to defend himself, but… He'd never go as far as Rogue had. Straining his memory he tried to recall her words. She insisted that Gambit was to blame for the Massacre and that he'd betrayed their trust. That he solely was responsible for the loss of his wings and that he had finally been punished. Rogue had refused to go into details, but she'd told him that Gambit had died in Antarctica.

No, that's where I draw the line, Warren mused. I refused to defend him during the trial after learning the truth, but I'll never try to kill a teammate! This realization confused him a little.

"Ange?" Remy said concerned. The absentminded expression in Warren's eyes worried him. Slowly, he sneaked closer. Why wouldn't his angel answer his questions?

Warren shook his head, forcing himself back to the present. He still had a lot of thinking to do, but Gambit looked mortified and he couldn't stand that particular facial expression. Well, he was awake now and felt no desire to go back to sleep, so maybe this was the right moment to talk. "Sit down," Warren ordered and gestured at the side of his bed. Surprised, he noticed the alarmed expression in Remy's eyes. "You've got nothing to fear from me," he said reassuringly, wondering about that sudden fear in Remy's eyes.

Gingerly, Remy sat down on the bed and waited for Warren to continue. He shook violently, scared to finally learn the black truth about himself.

"Are you scared of me?" Warren inquired puzzled.

"Oui," Remy admitted shakily. "You're here to judge me."

"Judge you?" Warren asked questioningly. "Why do you think that?"

"You're an ange… You know every sin I ever committed. You're here to punish me, non?" Now that he'd said it, the possible outcome of this conversation no longer scared him. He could only hope that his angel would judge him fairly.

Displeased, Warren raised an eyebrow. He should tell Gambit that he was a mutant and no real angel, but he feared that it'd only intimidate the Cajun. Furthermore, he wasn't sure he should answer Gambit's earlier questions. It'd be too much information at once and Remy wouldn't be able to deal with it. No, he needed more information first.

"What do you remember, Remy?" Part of him could hardly accept that he was helping his former teammate, the man responsible for so much pain and death. But he was determined to prove Apocalypse wrong!

Remy shifted on the bed, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. "A few mont's ago I woke up in a hospital."

"Stop." Warren rested his head against the pillows. "What hospital? Where did they find you?"

Remy shrugged his shoulders. "Houston. I hitchhiked to get to N'awlings."

"Okay," Pleased, Warren stored away this information. "Carry on."

"De doctors realized dat I'd lost my memory and wanted to send me to an institution to recover."

Warren raised a hand to stop him. "Did you have other injuries? Or just the memory loss?" Remy's chaotic rambling didn't give him much information, maybe he should ask questions instead?

Remy shivered and avoided those blue eyes. "Why? Is dat important?"

"Yes, it is," Warren sighed exasperated. "We need clues to what happened to you after…" After Antarctica, he finished privately.

"Frostbite," Remy whispered, ill at ease. "My hands and feet hurt."

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere," Warren replied pleased. That means he somehow found his way back from Antarctica… will have to find out how he did that.

After giving Warren a puzzled look, Remy added, "I was found wearing dese… do you know what dey are?" He doubted his angel would tell him, but he had to try and pushed up his sleeves. "De doctors can' remove dem."

Warren whistled impressed, seeing Eric the Red's shackles. Determinedly, his fingers explored the metal. The substance in the shackles prevents him from using his powers. That means… His eyes sought out Remy's. That means that he has no idea he's a mutant!

"Do you know what dey are?" Remy repeated his question, taken aback by the perplexed look in Warren's eyes.

"Yes," he replied eventually. "We'll have to find a way to get rid of them." Only now he realized that Gambit had never used his charging power when he'd saved him from the sniper. Now he knew why. "Once we get back to the hotel I'll ask a friend of mine to help us remove them." Warren nodded his head. Yes, Logan's adamantium claws would cut through those shackles like a hot knife through butter.

"Can' go to de hotel," Remy warned him again. "Dey're waitin' for you."

The stabbing pain in his back grew stronger and tired Warren. His next words stunned even him. "Remy, you need to clean that cut above your eye before it gets infected." His eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Had he really said that?

"Will do," Remy promised, oddly pleased. He didn't know how to feel about the fact that he hadn't gotten his answers, but at least his angel wasn't that hostile any more. "Anyt'in' else you want me to do?"

Briefly, Warren closed his eyes. "Get some sleep, Remy," he whispered and cracked one eye open. Remy's ragged appearance told him that the Cajun had lived a hard life these last months. "We'll talk later."

Remy didn't even consider objecting and meekly lay down on the mattress. "You're bien?" he asked, concerned that the nightmares would return to torment his angel.

"Yes, I'm just fine," Warren replied softly, trying hard to ignore the pain shooting through his back. But he'd endured worse and knew that once he was asleep the pain would be forgotten. But before he surrendered to sleep, he stole one more glance at Gambit, who was asleep already. "Looks like we're in this together, LeBeau," he whispered melancholy and stared at the ceiling. His eyelids closed and he knew Apocalypse was waiting for him in his dreams. But this time red on black eyes flashed protectively in his mind, driving away the nightmare, leaving him in a peaceful sleep.

///

Warren first opened his eyes. Disorientated, he looked about. Where the hell was he? Then, slowly, he remembered everything. His next glanced at Gambit, still curled up on the mattress.

Moonbeams illuminated the bedroom and for the first time, he really saw the changes on LeBeau's face. Why had the Cajun thief to look this terribly young and lost? Curled up in fetal position, Remy looked completely helpless. The band-aid had slipped from his brow during the night and revealed dirty skin and dried blood.

Warren struggled to sit upright and finally rested his back against the wall. For some reason he couldn't take his eyes off Remy, who mumbled in his sleep. If it hadn't been for LeBeau, he would have been dead now. Remy had saved his ass.

Last night's conversation drifted back into his mind. So, Gambit had woken up in a hospital in Houston? It was a long way from Antarctica to Houston… how had Remy gotten there?

Cautiously, he placed his feet on the floor, trying hard not to wake the sleeping Cajun. Remy looked like he desperately needed the sleep. Warren also wanted to know how strong, or weak, he really was. Could he make it to the kitchen by himself? He needed something to drink.

He stubbornly ignored the stab of pain that shot through his back. He could deal with the pain as long as his wings were all right! Looking over his shoulder, he released a sigh, seeing the white feathers, faintly stained with blood. He owed his life to LeBeau!

Gingerly, he rose from the bed and suppressed a hiss that threatened to leave his lips. Just ignore the pain! he told himself and took a first step towards the doorway. Suddenly, he remembered where LeBeau had taken him. This was a church, a cathedral. Why would Gambit seek shelter here? The Cajun was rich and could rent rooms in the most expensive hotels. Why not use the money on his bank account? Remy had showed of his credit cards more than once to pester him.

Because he lost his memory, you moron, his conscience replied impatiently.

Warren smiled bitterly and wished his conscience would finally shut up. It always reared its ugly head at most inconvenient times!

It took him several minutes to cover the distance, but eventually he stood in the kitchen area. He felt stronger and no longer suffered from vertigo. Remy LeBeau had taken great care of his injury, Warren admitted reluctantly.

Warren filled a glass with water and slowly emptied it. No matter what Gambit thought, Warren wanted to return to his hotel ASAP. He needed to take action against the assassins, or at least try and talk some sense into them!

His glance fluttered through the kitchen in search of food when they unexpectedly hit the meds, casually thrown onto the kitchen table. Carefully minding his injury, he sat down and stretched his long legs. His fingers turned the small box around. "John Doe," he read softly. "They really have no idea who he is… How did he get into the hospital? Who brought him there?"

Puzzled, he fumbled the instructions. Sleeping meds. Satisfied, he put it down and grabbed the second package. This one turned out to be a little more intriguing. It was a sedative, designed to slow down the neural activity in the brain. Looked like the doctors had hoped that once Remy felt safe and relaxed it would trigger his memories.

How does it feel? Warren wonders. Having no memories? Not knowing who you are and what you did? Briefly, he wondered if that was a curse or a blessing. He'd love to forget about Apocalypse! And I'm sure Remy has some personal demons as well. Sinister. Apocalypse almost destroyed me… I guess LeBeau feels the same way about Sinister. And for the first time, he felt some sort of connection to the Cajun. They'd both been used and then thrown away by mutants too strong to fight. Maybe, Sinister had forced Gambit to work for him, like Apocalypse had forced him to be his Horseman? It was an alarmingly unsettling thought! No! Warren objected. LeBeau worked for Sinister because…

Because what? His conscience acted up again. Did you ever ask Gambit why he worked for Sinister?

"He never told us," Warren mumbled uncomfortably. Even during the trial LeBeau had refused to give any extra information. "Okay!" he whispered angrily, "maybe I should have asked him!"

A moan coming from the bedroom attracted his attention and while taking a deep breath, he got to his feet. The short walk over to the kitchen had tired him. LeBeau had been right… again! He needed more rest!

As he entered the bedroom, he halted in his tracks. "What?" he whispered puzzled. Gambit had left the mattress and now sat huddled in the corner of the room. Knees pulled up to his chest, arms tightly wrapped around his legs, he was trying hard to hide his face in his hands.

Remy's body shook fiercely with remembered pain. In his dreams, his subconscious tried to show him what he had forgotten, but he fought the awareness. The pain was a terrible cold, a cold that slowly ate itself a way into his bones. The cold was unlike the chill he'd felt in the abandoned basement. This cold was in his very cells and made him whimper in pain.

Nothing could stop this cold. It was already halfway through his heart and marched on without hesitation, devouring the little hope he'd left. "Cold… cold…" he whispered his pain, wondering how much longer this would last.

Warren took a few steps closer and then remained motionless. Part of him remembered Gambit holding him close during his own nightmares, but could he do the same for the Cajun? Did he want to comfort a traitor?

"De Cold… why is it so cold?" Remy whispered in his twilight state and tried to hug himself even tighter, to no avail. The cold continued to burn his body, slowly and methodically. He no longer felt his feet or hands. They were numb.

Warren took a deep breath and sat down on his bed. His mind was at war with itself. Part of him wanted to see the Cajun suffer in misery, but then there was this other part that wanted to help, wanted to soothe, wanted to bring hope. Briefly, he feared going insane, as these sides of his personality tried to dominate his actions.

The snow now covered his entire body and Remy yelped his agony. Snow kept his eyes from opening and the cold weight pressed him deeper into the ice. It was so cold! Tears flowed down his face, tears which he couldn't cry while he'd been buried in ice. They'd have frozen solid in his eyes!

Warren wrung his hands. Damn! He couldn't bear to listen to those yelps any longer! Damn! He couldn't just sit here and let the Cajun cry and whimper! Surprised at his own reaction, he slowly lowered himself onto the mattress. Suddenly, the pain in his back no longer mattered! Why was he doing this? Why did he react like this? I hate him!

No, you don't, his conscience chided him.

This time, Warren didn't tell it to shut up, as he slowly realized it was the truth. He disapproved of Gambit's actions in the past, yes, but couldn't put all blame on the man sobbing beside him. "Gam…" Warren stopped himself just in time, remembering that hearing that name upset the Cajun. "Remy?"

Remy shuddered violently, but was too deeply tangled in his nightmare to respond. The cold had wrapped itself around him like a blanket, which suffocated him. Just when he thought things couldn't get worse, an awfully familiar voice roared in his ears.

"Non!" Remy exclaimed in dread as the old man took shape in his mind. The vile eyes devoured every inch of his body.

"Remy!" Warren tried again, displeased that the Cajun wasn't reacting. What else could he do to reach him? The sobbing turned into terrified moans and that worried him. And I thought my nightmares were bad! Awkwardly, he moved a little closer, cursing his injury. "Remy, can you hear me at all?"

The voice in Remy's head grew stronger. The old man yelled, cursed his stubbornness and suddenly, Remy realized why the old man was this damned angry. "I tried to escape," he mumbled and flinched as sharp nails dug into his throat.

"Escape?" Warren shook his head. "Escape from whom?" he asked concerned. Remy was getting worse, shaking himself to pieces. "Remy?" At a loss, he raised a hand and placed it on LeBeau's shoulder.

"DON' TOUCH ME!"

Warren crawled back at that sudden outburst of pain and terror. "Damnit! I'm trying to help you!" he hissed frustrated. Whatever tormented Remy in his dreams was extremely powerful and Warren wasn't sure he could break its hold. "Have it your way then!" Angry, he turned his back on the Cajun, whose body was tortured by erratic tremors. If you don't want help, that's just fine!

"Don' touch me…" Remy whispered in a sudden subdued tone. Fighting the old man never helped. There were too many other boys that would hold him down, as they wanted to escape a similar fate at the old man's hands. Why had he tried to run away? The old man would never let him go!

Frustrated like hell, Warren recomposed himself, hearing the soft sobs that left Remy's lips. Damn, he couldn't turn his back on the Cajun! In the back of his head he heard Bobby, calling him a softie. Well, Drake was the only one who knew him, really knew him! He didn't have a choice; he had to try again. There had to be a way to reach LeBeau!

Remy tried to avoid getting hit by the old man, but too many hands kept him in place. Sharp nails tore open his skin and he surrendered to the beating, knowing only too well that there was no way out for him. Unexpectedly, a kind face appeared in his mind. It was père Etienne, the only person he trusted.

Warren kneeled next to Remy, determined to give it one last try. "Remy?" he whispered and cautiously rested a hand on the Cajun's shoulder. "I want to help you," he said reassuringly, encouraged now that Remy had stopped shaking. "Let me help you." Was he really doing this? Was he really reaching out to this man, who he loathed so much?

"Père?" Remy whispered in a broken tone. The priest had only showed him trust and kindness and he craved entrusting himself to the old priest. "Père? Hold me? Please?" he begged softly, never expecting to be hugged, to be held close, but that was what happened. Strong arms enfolded him in a powerful embrace, promising protection.

Relieved, Warren sighed and rested his head against the wall. Remy was in his arms, holding on tight and crying against his chest. What the hell had scared the Cajun? What were his nightmares about? Warren wanted those questions answered.

"Jus' hold me…" Remy pleaded in a begging tone. He felt safe and protected in these arms and the old man couldn't reach him here. "The Antiquary…" he whispered shocked, suddenly remembering the man's name. "He hates me…"

"The Antiquary?" Warren repeated questioningly and stored the name away for future use. Would Remy remember that name once he was full awake? The sobs lessened in intensity. The emotional storm was over, but Warren couldn't bring himself to let go yet. Remy still trembled with fear. The Cajun still needed him.

"It's okay, Remy. Everything will be fine," he said soothingly. Suddenly, he felt trapped. What if LeBeau was playing him? A glance at the tear stained face, resting against his chest, destroyed this suspicion. Gambit wasn't acting. This was for real. "Who's the Antiquary?" Warren asked, hoping Remy was waking up.

Hearing that question almost freaked Remy out again. Suddenly, the arms holding him close were holding him prisoner and he screamed, struggling wildly to get away from his assailant. Distance, he needed to put distance between them!

"Remy, calm down!" Warren whispered urgently. His first reaction was to yell at the dazed Cajun, but something told him that it'd only push Remy deeper into hysterics! Damn! If only he had a clue to what the hell was going on! One moment Remy screamed not to touch him and the next, Remy begged to be held!

Remy finally managed to flee his nightmare and scared to death, he opened his eyes, fully expecting the Antiquary to loom over him. But all he saw were shocked blue eyes.

"Remy? It's okay. I'm not going to hurt…" Warren stopped mid-sentence, feeling like he was balancing on the edge of a revelation. He could only think of one reason why Remy would react like this, abuse. Was the Cajun reliving some childhood abuse? Warren realized that he had to act very carefully and said, "You're awake again, Remy?"

Ashamed of his behavior Remy stared at the wall. "It was jus' a nightmare," he stated, lying to cover up the truth, a truth he couldn't face yet. A truth, he didn't want to remember.

"I know about nightmares," Warren replied eventually, deciding against bringing up the Antiquary. He wanted Remy to calm down first. Remy looked like a cornered animal with no way out. Maybe a different tactic would work. "Can you help me back onto the bed? My back hurts."

Shakily, Remy reacted and pushed himself onto his feet. Forget de nightmare! he ordered himself. Mon ange needs help! Warren extended one hand and accidentally Remy offered his hurt wrist as support. As Warren's fingers closed around it, Remy failed to suppress a whimper of pain.

Warren let go at once and climbed onto the bed. "Let me have a look at your wrist," he said determinedly.

Remy shuffled his feet, uncertain what to do. When he'd woken, he'd panicked, having no idea where he was and who was with him. "I'm sorry," he whispered ashamed.

"Don't be," Warren said steadfast. "Now sit down and let me have a look at your injuries." This situation had certainly taken an unexpected turn. Here he sat, offering to check on Remy's injuries. Didn't he use to hate the Cajun? Confused, he postponed exploring his motives and feelings. "That cut's bleeding again."

"It's rien," Remy said dismissively and swayed on his feet.

"Stop being stubborn and sit down!" Warren ordered in an authoritative tone. His eyes had already noticed the first-aid kit at the head end of the bed.

Finally caving in Remy sat down reluctantly. "You don' need to do dis. I can take care of myself." Uneasy, he watched how Warren went through the content of the first-aid kit.

"You dressed my wound, didn't you?" Warren cunningly silenced him. "Now let me do the same or can I still not touch you?"

That last question caused shivers to run down Remy's spine. How much had he given away during his nightmares? "Don' like to be touched," he admitted gingerly. However, he didn't struggle as Warren disinfected the cut above his eye. "Mais you're an ange and won' hurt me, oui?"

Taken aback, Warren stared into Remy's eyes, gasping at the trust in them. He should tell Remy that he wasn't a real angel, but… could the Cajun's fragile mind deal with that information now? No, he had to wait a little longer. "I won't hurt you," he promised in an unguarded moment, surprising the hell out of himself with that vow.

Remy nodded his head after Warren put a new band-aid over the cut. "I knew dat from de start."

Shit! Warren cursed privately. It was unsettling, knowing that LeBeau trusted him unconditionally. It made him uncomfortable. "What happened to your wrist?" he inquired as he removed the dirty bandage.

"A fight." Remy looked away as Warren probed his wrist, which was still bruised. "Don' worry 'bout it," Remy said shyly. Why was his angel suddenly this interested in his well being and where had that hostility gone?

"Why were you fighting?" Warren bandaged the wrist again, impatiently waiting for an answer. "Well?"

Remy cringed as he spoke next. "De bastard wanted to fuck me for money."

"What did you say?" Warren dropped the bandages and stared big-eyed at Remy.

"He wanted to fuck me for money!" Remy repeated at a loss. "He t'ought I was a whore!" Did he have to spell it out for his angel? Didn't Warren already know all this? He was an angel, wasn't he? Well, maybe, Warren didn't know everything?

Biting down his fury Warren threw the bandages onto the bed. What was he supposed to say or to do? Peeking at Remy's lowered and shame ridden eyes, he wondered about the man sitting next to him. "Did you manage to fight him off?" he asked hesitantly.

"Oui, dis time…" Remy admitted guiltily.

I don’t want to hear this! Warren didn't know how to handle this. The implications of Remy's answer were hard to grasp. "So, there have been times when you couldn't fight them off?" Please let him say no! The thought that one of his teammates had sold his body for money made him feel queasy. Or should I call it rape? Is that why he doesn't want me to touch him?

Remy didn't reply. His cut and wrist have been taken care of and now he wanted to get away from his angel, who asked too many unnerving questions. "Don' want to talk 'bout dat," he said evasively and lowered himself back onto the mattress. Curling up, he closed his eyes.

Lost, Warren let him. Remy's recent admissions shocked him. "Remy?" he whispered softly, realizing that all blankets were on his bed. The Cajun had to be cold now that the fire had died. Not getting an answer, he carefully leaned forward. His back acted up and he gritted his teeth.

Remy cried soundlessly. He didn't want to discuss the little he remembered with his angel. His angel was pure, untouched by evil and he couldn't talk about his pain. His angel couldn't understand him!

Tears flowed down Remy's face and Warren bit his lip. Angry with himself, he picked up a blanket and covered the shivering Cajun with it. I never knew, he thought apologetically. I never cared about your past. I judged you without compassion and understanding, just like Apo… he said.

Gentle fingers moved through his hair during a heartbeat, offering comfort and apology and Remy stopped crying. His angel cared about him. With that consoling thought, he surrendered to exhaustion.

///

"Almost ready," Remy whispered privately, tossing the omelette. He'd woken minutes ago and his growling stomach had urged him to prepare breakfast. One look over his shoulder assured him that Warren was still asleep.

Somehow, his mind refused to believe that last night had really happened, but his wrist was neatly bandaged and the cut on his brow healing. His angel had really tended to his wounds! A most joyous, almost exultant feeling swept through him. He hadn't felt this good in months!

But there was also a downside. Last night, he'd admitted too much to Warren. He'd never planned on telling his angel about fighting his way out of the alley. But worst of all was that he was remembering things from his past.

Like the Antiquary. Merde! he cursed mentally as a slice of toast dropped onto the floor. Just thinking about the Antiquary made him shake with fear. And Warren knew about his nemesis as well! How could he have been so stupid to tell his angel! Warren would want answers, an explanation for last night's behavior.

That one question still rung in his ears, 'Or can I still not touch you?' Merde! His angel was getting too close to the truth!

As he carried all food items over to the kitchen table, Remy finally allowed himself to think about père Etienne who seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth. Deep down in his heart he feared for the kind old man. Maybe something bad had happened to the old priest because père Etienne had shown him some kindness?

Remy shivered suddenly. What if the old priest had died because of him? Why else would père Etienne stay away for such a long time? Please, mon Dieu, he prayed. Please don' punish him 'cause he helped me!

Warren found Remy like that; fists clenched, eyes almost watering, self-loathing written all over his face. Warren cocked his head, feeling oddly in control of the situation. Last night he'd crossed a bridge when he'd soothed Remy and he started to feel comfortable near the Cajun.

Remy… When did LeBeau change into Remy? he wondered curiously. An incredible sadness covered Remy's face like a veil. Warren realized very well that there was a lot he didn't know about his former team-mate, but the things he'd recently learned, had shaken the foundations of his life. Someone he hated had saved his life. He'd always assumed that Remy disliked him as well, but now he wasn't so sure any more. Maybe he'd taken everything that had happened in the past too personally. Face it, Warren, you're not the centre of the world! he chided himself.

"Good morning," Warren said in a friendly tone. Seeing Remy jerk around to face him didn’t surprise Warren. The Cajun was easily scared and highly strung.

"Mornin'," Remy replied shyly and gestured at the kitchen table. "It ain' much, mais…"

"Come on, let's eat." Warren cautiously sat down. Although the pain in his back had lessened during the night, it was still there.

Reluctantly, Remy joined him. His hands trembled fiercely as he poured their tea.

"About last night," Warren started, but grew quiet, seeing Remy's unease.

"Won' happen 'gain, I promise," Remy whispered barely audible.

All right, so you're already on the defensive? Warren changed strategy. "I'm talking about the first half of the night, when I had that terrible nightmare," he clarified and caught Remy's surprised look. "Thanks for waking me up."

"You're welcome," Remy said in an awkward tone. "You need to eat."

"You need to eat too, Remy," Warren pointed out to him. So far, so good… now what? Slowly, he chewed the toast. "I found your meds last night," he revealed and watched Remy's reaction very carefully. The Cajun looked up questioningly. "Why aren't you taking them?"

"I don' like bein' defenceless," Remy replied in a whisper. Shifting on the chair he stared at the food. He'd only eaten a few bites, but his appetite had suddenly disappeared.

"They can help you get your memory back," Warren reminded him, but privately his thoughts strolled into a different direction. Or don't you want to remember? That actually makes a lot of sense, considering Remy's been through a lot.

"Can' survive on de streets like dat." Remy forced himself to bite off a piece of toast. He needed the calories if he wanted to stay in shape. Years on the streets and serving the Antiquary as a slave had taught him to eat whenever he could.

"You're not going back onto the streets, Remy," Warren stated determinedly. The dumbfounded look Remy gave him made Warren smile. "You're staying with me until you've got your memory back." In the back of his head Warren remembered something Logan once said, a truth he'd destroyed during the trial in Antarctica. 'X-Men take care of each other!' It was time he remembered who he was and what he used to stand for!

"Que?" Confused, Remy blinked his eyes. "What did you say?"

"I'm going to keep my eye on you," Warren repeated. And for several reasons. I want to know why you worked for Sinister and why this Antiquary scares the hell out of you. I don't even dare to think about the other things you mentioned, Remy. Did someone abuse you when you were a child? And did you survive by selling your body? Why did you have to tell me that? I don't know how to help you deal with all that! I'm a lawyer… not a psychologist!//

"Are you serious?" Remy's fingernails clawed into the wood of the kitchen table. This sounded to be good to be true! Couldn't be happening to him! He never got lucky! And now an ange offers to take care of me? Why would he do dat? But it felt so good when he held me last night. Wasn' 'lone any more… Temptation made it impossible for him to refuse the proposal.

"Yes, I'm serious," Warren assured Remy and leaned back. This chair worsened his backache. Later, he'd try spreading his wings to see if he was still capable of flight.

"Ange?" Remy started hesitantly. "I'm bad luck."

That actually brought a smile to Warren's face. "So am I!"

"You're an ange!" Remy objected strongly.

"We need to talk about this angel thing later," Warren said resolved. "But first we're going to eat and think of a way to get back to my hotel."

"Bad idea," Remy protested again. "Told you 'fore dat dey will be waitin' for you."

"Got to take that risk, Remy. The assassins won't give up."

"Assassins?" His knife dropped hard onto the plate. The word woke some distant memory in his mind, but it failed to surface.

"Yes, the assassins' Guild," Warren clarified, wondering if he shouldn't keep quiet instead. He disliked telling Remy white lies, but wanted to establish a safe environment first before talking to the Cajun about the X-Men. And as long as the assassins hunted him down, Warren didn't feel exactly safe.

Remy thought everything over. "We can stay here?" he offered.

"No, we'll try to get to the hotel once the sun has set. The night will supply us with some cover."

"Do you t'ink dey know you're here?" Remy said suddenly. "You were bleedin' when I brought you here… left a trail?"

"That would be bad," Warren acknowledged, "maybe they don't want to murder me inside a church?"

"We'll leave at night…" Remy agreed. "We'll stay here durin' de day." He didn't like this plan, but his angel seemed determined to do things his way.

"What about those meds?" Warren shoved the packages over to Remy's side of the table. "When do you plan on starting to take them?"

"Non." Remy shook his head. "Don' want to be drugged."

"They'll help you remember, Remy!" Warren got tired of the same old argument. "At least that way one of us won't have to deal with nightmares." When he'd read the instructions, he'd realized the sleeping meds would take away the nightmares. That was probably the very reason why the doctors in Houston had prescribed these particular drugs!

Remy had no argument to contradict that statement. As his eyes caressed those soft white wings, he knew he'd lost this fight.

///

"What are you doing?" Restlessly, Warren sat upright in bed. Remy was lying on his mattress, a pillow underneath his head, reading a book.

"What does it look like?" Remy quipped, feeling strangely at rest. That serene feeling probably came from the fact that he wasn't alone any longer. His angel had promised to stay close. He no longer had to fight this lonely battle on his own!

Remy was determined to use this little rest before they'd to venture out in the streets again. Hours ago he'd tried to change his angel's mind, but Warren had made it very clear that this wasn't up for discussion. Once it was dark, they were leaving!

"Give me that!" Warren lunged forward and managed to pry the book from Remy's hands. Remy smiled brilliantly at him and a strange, alien feeling shot through his soul. Confused, Warren studied the book.

"It's some sort of journal," Remy said and shrugged his shoulders.

"It's the Iliad!" Warren realized and grinned. "And you're reading it in Greek!"

That certainly got Remy's attention. "Greek?" he repeated amused. "I can' read Greek! You made a mistake! It's English!"

Warren's grin brightened. "This is Greek, Remy!" and threw Remy the book. Remy's confusion only grew and Warren tried to remember the little he knew about the Cajun's background. It's only logical that Jean-Luc LeBeau, patriarch of the thieves' Guild, would give his son an excellent education, though I'm a little surprised he knows Greek. What else don't I know about him? Probably a lot! But… hold on… Why don't I give Jean-Luc LeBeau a call once we reached the hotel? He can take care of his son and maybe I can convince him to use his influence on the assassins! Pleased, Warren nodded his head.

In the meantime, Remy struggled to decipher words he'd understood perfectly a moment ago. After Warren had pointed out to him that he was reading Greek, he'd suddenly lost all knowledge of that language. "Can' read it any more."

"Huh?" Remy's voice pulled Warren away from his musings. "What do you mean?"

"The words don' make sense," Remy said helplessly.

Warren swung his feet onto the floor, distressed by the sudden panic on Remy's face. "You read the book effortlessly until I told you it was Greek?" he summarized.

"Oui," Remy sighed and closed the book. "I don' understand dis. How come I can read Greek?"

Okay, Remy. Let's see how you deal with this. Warren placed his right hand on the Cajun's shoulder.

Surprised, Remy looked up. He managed to repress the shudder that almost rocked his body and waited for his angel to answer him.

"Maybe your father…" Warren started, but one dazed Cajun cut him short.

"Fat'er?" Stunned, Remy looked his angel in the eye. Why hadn't he thought of that before? Maybe he came to New Orleans because his family was here! "Never t'ought dat my père was still 'live," he admitted. "I don' remember him…" All he remembered was the Antiquary and the other street kids.

"I don't know that much about your family," Warren said patiently, "but I do know that your father lives in New Orleans. Once we're at the hotel, I'll tell him where you are."

That promise fed a deep ache inside his soul. "My père's still 'live?" Remy repeated in disbelief.

"Yes. His name's Jean-Luc LeBeau," Warren said cautiously, feeding Remy small bits of information. But I'm not going to tell him about the thieves' Guild yet. I want to talk to those doctors in Houston first and see what they recommend. Maybe it's best to wait until you're ready to remember? he wondered, mesmerized by the ecstatic expression in Remy's eyes.

"Jean-Luc LeBeau," Remy said slowly, tasting the name, hoping it'd sparkle his memory, but no face or voice appeared in his mind. Disappointed, he looked pleadingly at Warren.

"And yes, your name's Remy LeBeau," Warren said in a surprisingly gentle tone. Last night had taken away his anger, realizing Remy was even worse off than he was and he couldn't deny his desire.

You only want to prove Apocalypse wrong, his conscience reprimanded Warren viciously.

No! I do care! Warren protested, but wondered himself if he was lying. Remy totally confused him!

"Remy LeBeau," Remy whispered happily. "Merci for tellin' me."

Warren gave him a melancholy smile, knowing only too well that dark memories lurked in the Cajun's mind. How would Remy react once he learned about the Massacre and Sinister?

"Ange?" Remy wondered about the absentminded look in those blue eyes. Regularly, Warren's mind seemed to drift off. Should he worry about that? "Ange? You still listenin'?"

"Yes." Warren looked out of the window. "We should get ready. It's starting to grow dark outside."

With a deep sigh, Remy rose to his feet. He placed the book back onto the shelf, still puzzled by his ability to read Greek. Mon poppa. Mon poppa taught me!

Warren watched Remy move about, gathering bandages, balm, painkillers and food. Food? "Remy, we don't need food!"

"You never know," Remy objected, "want to be prepared in case somet'in' goes wrong!" He wasn't going to get into another argument, but realized darn well that these assassins would be looking for them.

"Don't forget your meds, Remy!" Warren got up from the bed and pointed the packages out to Remy. "Don't you even think about leaving them behind. Once we're safe, you're going to take them!"

"Merde!" Remy cursed loudly, but packed them anyway. He slowly realized how much he craved someone to take care of him. He'd been so long on his own, that's he'd forgotten how it felt to have a friend who worried about his well-being.

"Do you need help?" Remy asked and put the bag onto the chair. Warren was in obvious pain, trying to slip into his blood stained shirt. "Here, use my coat," Remy offered draped it over Warren's shoulders. "Warm 'nough?"

"Yes," Warren sighed. "Let's get moving. The sooner we're in the hotel, the better." Remy's reluctance to leave this sanctuary was written all over his face and Warren resorted to other tactics. "I'm sure your dad wants to know you're here."

That argument was Remy's undoing. "You win."

///

The LeBeau household

Jean-Luc LeBeau put down the report. "Dis information is accurate?"

The man who stood in front of the desk nodded his head. "The information is correct. Remy is in New Orleans. He was seen on several occasions, but disappeared each time before we could make contact."

"Dis is bad, Louis," Jean-Luc sighed. "De assassins and some of de thieves still want his blood! Why hasn't he contacted me?" Worried, Jean-Luc read the rest of the report. "Remy's wearing rags?"

The informant grew uncomfortable, seeing the frustration on his boss' face. "He's been begging, eating out of garbage cans and seen sneaking into the St. Louis Cathedral."

"Why didn't you bring him in?" Jean-Luc demanded to know. "De moment you see him, act! I don't want him roaming de streets! You know what happens once de assassins know he's back!"

"I will do my best, monsieur LeBeau," Louis promised. "I think he's still inside the cathedral."

"Bring him to me and make sure he's unharmed!" Jean-Luc rose from behind the desk and paced his study. "Non! Wait. I will attend to dis personally!" He couldn't take the risk that his men would screw up. His son was too important! "Get de limousine ready!"

Louis hurried out of the room. Finally alone, Jean-Luc banged his fist into the wall in frustration. He'd lost track of his son months ago, after the X-Men had gone on a mission in Antarctica. All he knew was that they'd returned without Remy. He had informants near Westchester, which had orders to warn him should his son return to the mansion and now Remy was in New Orleans?

"Why didn't you come to me, Remy? Why did I exile you?" A choked sigh left his lips. "Banishing you was the biggest mistake I ever made! I should have stood up to dose assassins! Instead, I let dem take you away from me! I failed you too many times, my son," he realized saddened.

"What's wrong with you, Remy? Why are you walking de streets like a ghost? No matter what happened in de past, you can always come to me… You must know dat!" Puzzled, angry and scared for his son's well being, Jean-Luc grabbed his coat.

"Whatever is wrong, I will fix it!" he promised passionately and gestured Louis to follow him. I'm going to get my son into safety!

///

Near the cathedral

"You're sure this is the right way?" Warren inquired worried. He still needed Remy's help to walk, but his wings felt fine. He was sorely tempted to try and spread them and take to the sky with Remy, but that was definitely a bad idea. They'd make an easy target.

"I got a hideout near your hotel," Remy assured him as he scanned the nearly empty street. Being responsible for his angel's safety made him extremely cautious. "You bien?" he asked to be sure. Warren leaned on him, but seemed to hold his own.

"Yes, I'm fine, keep walking!" Warren looked about. The hair at the back of his neck stood rigid. "Someone's watching us."

"Oui, feel de eyes too," Remy whispered in return. "We should go back to de church."

"Can't go back now," Warren decided, wishing Remy wasn't wearing those shackles. His charging power would come in handy right now. "How much longer?"

"Five more minutes," Remy replied thoughtfully. "We need to cross the street first," he informed Warren. As they reached that particular crossing, he pulled his angel into the cover of an alley. "Dis feels wrong."

"I know that." Impatiently, Warren searched the street for suspicious looking cars or people. "Once we're crossing the street, we got no cover at all!" What if he took the to sky and flew to the penthouse? He measured the distance. I might be able to do that if I was alone, but I can't leave Remy behind. I need to stay close to him!

"Ange?" Worried, Remy shook his head. "No use in waitin'. We do dis now or we go back to de church." Remy literally smelled the danger.

"You're right," Warren admitted frustrated. "We'll make a run for it."

"Non." Remy locked eyes with his angel. "Dat way, we draw attention. We need to walk slowly. De other people crossin' de street are our only cover."

Reluctantly, Warren gave in. "Whatever happens, stay close!" Acting on impulse, he grabbed Remy's left wrist.

In spite of their miserable situation Remy smiled. "Merci for carin', mon ange," he whispered barely audible.

Warren choked up, hearing the honest gratitude in those words. "We really need to talk about this angel thing," he said with a half smile. Determinedly, he nodded his head. "Let's do this!"

Remy fell into step next to him and Warren suddenly realized that the Cajun trembled. "We're almost there," he said encouragingly, but as he finished his sentence, the dreadful noise of metal racing through the air filled his ears. His sharp eyes immediately located the three daggers coming towards them.

But Remy recognized the danger as well. The daggers cut themselves a way through the air and his angel was the target! He only had seconds to make up his mind and act. Saved his life once, can do it 'gain!

Warren's heart missed several beats as Remy catapulted himself into the air, knocking him onto the concrete in the process. "NO!" Warren screamed petrified. The daggers missed him because Remy used his own body to protect him! "No," he whimpered in dread as one dagger clawed itself a way into the Cajun's left side. The smile that Remy gave him was filled with bliss and pride.

"Dey won' kill you," Remy moaned the words as he went down. A terrible pain doubled him over and something hot dripped down his thigh. Kept my promise.

Warren caught Remy before the Cajun hit the concrete. Quickly, he gathered Remy in his arms. Shocked, he stared at his bloodstained hands and the small pool of blood he kneeled in. "No," he sobbed softly. "Don't die on me!"

Don't die FOR me! Warren stared at the heavens. That dagger had been meant for him! Not for Remy! Why did you jump in front of me? In shock, he pulled the unconscious Cajun to his chest, hoping the assassins would get it over with quickly and kill him as well.

///

Jean-Luc's heart thumped loudly in his chest as he was forced to watch how the assassins' daggers found their way through the air. His eyes scouted their route ahead and then his heart stopped beating momentarily. "Remy!" he whispered shocked.

His son leaped into the air, throwing his companion onto the concrete. One of the daggers ate itself into his side. "Non!" he hissed in anger. "Faster, Louis!" He couldn't be too late! He had to safe his son's life. Only then he remembered that Remy wasn't alone.

A blue skinned man with white wings struggled hard to get to his knees. A keening wail left the man's lips and he gathered Remy in his arms. Terror shone from his blue eyes. A terror, which also ruled Jean-Luc's eyes.

Jean-Luc had studied the X-Men when his son had joined them and recognized the mutant named Angel. But the blue skin was a surprise. When had that happened?

Determinedly, Jean-Luc bit his lip. Even from this distance it was clear that his son was bleeding and no longer conscious. He refused to think of the obvious reason; Remy couldn't be dead!

The Elixir of Life would strengthen his son sufficiently to survive such an injury! Administered in small quantities Remy had never realized what he'd been fed and Jean-Luc knew only too well he should have told his son a long time ago. But then disaster had struck and Remy had been forced to leave New Orleans. But now he's back! Jean-Luc chided himself. And he needs my help!

///

A car slithered towards them, suddenly coming to an abrupt stop. Warren didn't want to take his eyes off Remy, even felt angered at the sudden intrusion, and glared at the small group of men now exiting the limousine. Looks like the assassins want to gloat at their handiwork! Angered, he pulled Remy close and suddenly grew aware of the steady rising of the Cajun's chest.

He's still alive! Warren realized in a crazed state. Forgetting about the newly arrived group, he frantically searched for a pulse. Yes, the Cajun was still alive!

Got to make sure he stays that way! All his earlier thoughts of giving in so the assassins could finish him off, were gone. Suddenly, he had a reason to fight for his life, and that reason was Remy LeBeau!

"You've got to hold on, Remy!" he whispered resolved and tried to get to his feet, carrying the Cajun. But the unconscious man weighed heavy in his arms and he started to fall. Unexpectedly, strong arms steadied him. "Take me, but let him go!" Warren whispered, hoping the assassins would listen.

Jean-Luc's hands trembled, knowing that the assassins' dagger could be poisoned. He had to act quickly and could ask questions later. "Monsieur Worthington," he started, "Give me my son and get into de car!"

Warren never heard the words. Someone was trying to pry Remy from his arms and he couldn't allow that. "I'm not giving him to you!" he stated determinedly.

"We're wasting valuable time!" Jean-Luc realized and pulled Warren towards the limousine. "Get inside!"

This time Warren moved. It seemed like the assassins wanted them both, so be it, but he wasn't abandoning Remy, not again!

Jean-Luc jumped into the car as well, gesturing his men to search for the assassins and take care of the bystanders. "Louis! Drive!" he ordered and sat down next to Warren, aching to hold his son as well. But Warren's expression told him that the X-Man was in shock and wouldn't let go until he'd been coaxed into feeling safe.

Feeling paralysed, all Warren could do was stare at Remy's closed eyes. The Cajun's lips were still curled into a smile and a deep anger burned Warren's mind. "Why the hell did you do that?" If Remy hadn't tried to protect him, the Cajun would be just fine! Warren didn't know if he would have been fast enough to move out of the daggers' way and now they would never know! "You shouldn't have done that!"

Jean-Luc has had enough and slipped one arm underneath his son's shoulders to lift him slightly. Immediately, Warren tightened his hold on the Cajun and Jean-Luc let him. All he wanted to do was to examine his son's wound. Although Remy bled profusely, Jean-Luc quickly realized that the dagger had missed his son's vital organs. "Press hard!" he ordered and pushed Warren's hand onto the wound.

A soft mew escaped Remy as the pressure increased and Warren flinched hearing that sound. "I never wanted this to happen!" he whimpered regretfully. "Don't die on me, Remy!"

Jean-Luc gritted his teeth. He'd known there would be trouble when his men had reported his son's return. "Can you tell me why you're here?" he asked Warren and reassuringly stroked his son's soft hair. Remy looked worse than Jean-Luc remembered. Remy had lost weight and dark circles had formed underneath his son's eyes.

With a quick glance Jean-Luc inspected the cut above Remy's brow and as his hands searched for more injuries, Jean-Luc encountered the bandaged wrist. "Worthington!" he cursed, "Start talking!"

But Warren wasn't paying any attention to the raving man next to him. He was trying hard to stop the bleeding by applying sufficient pressure. He never expected the Cajun to try and protect him! My God, I misjudged you, Remy! That realization almost made his eyes water. That foolish Cajun really thinks he has to protect an angel!

Never before had Warren felt more unworthy of wearing that name. Angel, Archangel, fancy names but they don't mean a thing without the right man doing them justice and I… His thoughts spun as his eyes finally released tears.

Jean-Luc watched them with mixed feelings. He understood that Warren felt guilty because Remy had got hit instead, but Remy was his son and he wanted to comfort him! "Louis, make sure doctor Mansour is at de house when we get back!" Merde, he curses privately. Mattie chose a bad time to visit her relatives. He didn't expect her back for days!

"Remy?" Warren whispered respectfully. "Please fight!" His fingers were covered in blood, but it felt like the bleeding slowed down. With his other hand he gently turned Remy's head until the Cajun's face rested against his chest. Remy's long legs dangled down the seat and Warren leaned in closer, hiding his own face in the Cajun's hair. "Don't leave me!"

Warren didn't give much thought to his reactions, knowing they'd been through a lot these last few days. He'd almost convinced himself that he was coping… that was until Remy had decided to sacrifice his life so he could live. "Why did you do it?"

Jean-Luc sighed heavily, counting the minutes until they'd reach his house. Louis had assured him that the family's physician would arrive simultaneously to attend to Remy's injury. Being this helpless infuriated him. "Angel!" Jean-Luc says on impulse, as he didn't remember Worthington's first name. He wanted an explanation!

"Why are you doing this?" Warren asked as he locked eyes with the man sitting next to him. "You want to kill me, let him go!"

"I don’t want to kill you," Jean-Luc rectified, suddenly realizing why the X-Man was this uncooperative. "I'm no assassin. My name's Jean-Luc LeBeau and I'm here to claim my son!"

"Son?" Warren repeated in bafflement. He'd never seen the patriarch of the thieves' Guild before, but slowly things started to make sense. "You wear the same idiotic rain coat!" he stated near hysterics. "We're safe?"

"Oui, de assassins won't try anything as long as you're with me," Jean-Luc reassured the X-Man. "And we're almost home!"

"LeBeau," Warren lunged forward and grabbed the collar of Jean-Luc's coat. "Remy's lost his memory. He doesn't know who he is, who I am, who you are… be careful!"

"Mon Dieu!" Jean-Luc's eyes flashed dangerously and locked on Remy's face. "Dat's why he didn't come to me!"

"He doesn't know he's a mutant… Remy thinks I'm a real angel." Suddenly, it was very important to him to that Jean-Luc knew what was going on. In his dazed state he was terrified that Jean-Luc would let something slip that would upset Remy.

"Listen," Jean-Luc said, eager to gain control over this situation. From the corner of his eye he noticed that the bleeding had almost stopped, but his son still needed medical attention. "Let me take care of everything, monsieur Worthington!"

"Yes," Warren sighed and leaned back, clutching Remy to his chest. "He wanted to die for me," he stuttered confused.

"Dat's Remy." Jean-Luc nodded his head. "Dat's my son, too damn eager to please!"

The words ripped into his mind. I wronged him! Warren bowed his head in defeat as shame flowed through his veins. The limousine came to a sudden stop and made him look up. "Where are we?"

"Home," Jean-Luc replied and took a deep breath. "Let me carry my son," he demanded. Warren was in no state to carry his unconscious son and judging from the newly appeared blood on the X-Man's shoulder, Angel was injured as well. "I'll take care of him," Jean-Luc promised.

His heart grews heavy, but eventually, Warren nodded his head. "Be gentle," Warren insisted. His hands shook as the warm body slipped into Jean-Luc's arms.

"Monsieur Worthington, you need a doctor as well." Jean-Luc pulled his son close to his chest. "I've got you, Remy!" he said passionately.

Louis helped Jean-Luc lift Remy from the car. Jean-Luc said, "Keep an eye on de X-Man!"

"I'm not leaving Remy!" Warren insisted in a calm tone. "I'm coming along!"

He didn't have the time to argue and Jean-Luc nodded his head. "Come on den!"

Together, they made their way into the house. Remy hardly weighed a thing and the wound was bleeding again now that the pressure was gone. "Hold on, son," he whispered softly.

///

Several minutes later Jean-Luc assisted doctor Mansour in getting Remy undressed. Astonished, Warren looked at the well-equipped medical lab in LeBeau's basement. Even Hank would start drooling seeing this!

Warren watched their every move, for some reason feeling very protective of Remy. Maybe it still hadn't fully registered yet that the doctor had assured them that the injury wasn't life threatening.

"You sit dere, monsieur Worthington," Jean-Luc instructed, "and don't get in our way. Doctor Mansour will have a look at your injury in a moment."

"My wound's healing just fine," he waved away the concern. "What about Remy?"

"He won't die," Jean-Luc assured Warren again, without mentioning the elixir. Outsiders didn't need to know the Guild's secrets! With endless care, he stripped off Remy's sweater.

Warren's eyes grew big. It wasn't the injury that makes him gasp. It was the fine web of scars woven into Remy's skin. "My God, what?"

Jean-Luc ignored Warren, helping the physician to clean the wound. Although Remy was stable it was a nasty and painful wound.

"Those scars…" Warren whispered stunned. "How did he get them?" Not getting an answer, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared at Jean-Luc. He vividly remembered Remy's admission after the Cajun had had those nightmares. Had Jean-Luc beaten Remy or…? Wish I knew more about Remy's childhood, but Jean-Luc LeBeau doesn't seem the abusive kind, though you can never tell…

"Clean the wound," doctor Mansour instructed and handed Jean-Luc some clean bandages.

Jean-Luc simply obeyed, gently wiping away the blood. "How bad is it?"

The doctor gave his patriarch a reassuring smile. "Remy has dealt with worse. He'll be fine after a few days of rest. It's only a flesh wound."

"Merci mon Dieu!" Jean-Luc whispered and then glanced at Warren, who was uncharacteristically quiet. "Are you all right?" he asked concerned. If his son was willing to die for this man, he had to take care of Worthington.

Warren stared at Remy's face. Those alien eyes were still closed, but there was movement underneath the eyelids. The scars on Remy's body saddened and angered him at the same time. "Who did this to him?"

Surprised, Jean-Luc locked eyes with him. "De assassins threw de daggers."

"Not the dagger," Warren hissed between gritted teeth. "The scars!"

Etrange, Jean-Luc studied Warren carefully. I didn't know dey were dis close. My informants never told me. As he thought of a suitable answer, Remy moved slightly underneath his hands. Briefly, he hoped that Remy was regaining consciousness, but his son didn't open his eyes.

Doctor Mansour told him to pull Remy upright so he could bandage the wound and Jean-Luc reacted at once. He sat down on the exam table, pulled Remy gently in an upright position and rested his son's body against his chest. His fingertips caressed the countless scars.

"Was it the Antiquary or did you do this to him?" Warren's voice was solid steel.

Jean-Luc could hardly believe that accusation and turned around with a vicious expression on his face. "I would never hurt my son!" A second later, he realized what Warren had just said. "What do you know about de Antiquary?"

Now that the doctor had finished with tending to Remy's injury, he moved over to Warren. Obediently, Warren leaned forward so the physician could examine his injury. "It's the only thing Remy remembers," Warren sighed in pain as the doctor removed the bandages. His wound stung painfully.

Jean-Luc gently lays Remy down on the exam table and covered his son's body with a warm blanket. "The nightmares," he stated with certainly.

"Yes." Warren flinched as the physician checked the wound. "In his dreams he begged this Antiquary not to touch him. He didn't allow me to touch him when he woke, but after he realized he was safe he begged me to hold him."

"This is healing properly," the doctor said approvingly. "Remy didn't forget the lessons I taught him in first aid."

Warren and Jean-Luc stared into each other's eyes. Now what? Warren thought confused. The doctor had redressed his wound and slowly, Warren rose to his feet. Step by step, he approached the exam bed. "What did that bastard do to Remy?"

Jean-Luc averted his eyes. Ashamed and feeling terribly guilty he stalled answering that question. He'd never told his son that he'd stolen Remy from the hospital, delivering Remy into that devil's hands. "De Antiquary hurt him," he said eventually.

Warren pulled the chair closer and sat down again as his knees threatened to give out on him. Suddenly, all recent events overwhelmed him. "You're sure he'll survive?"

"Oui," Jean-Luc assured him, "Remy's strong."

"I need to tell you about the assassins," Warren realized and took a deep breath. Why was he stroking back auburn locks? Why was he dying to touch Remy? Too tired to ponder these questions, he simply sat there, caressing Remy's soft hair.

Jean-Luc watched them closely, dismissing the doctor after telling him to stay close and then walked over to Warren. "We should move him to his room. He will feel a lot safer dere when he wakes up. Remy hates medical labs."

A ghost of a smile crossed Warren's features. "Yes, Hank once mentioned something like that." He sat back and briefly closed his eyes. He was awfully tired and wouldn't mind lying down himself.

With utmost care Jean-Luc gathered his son in his arms and lifted him from the exam table. I've got you back, Remy and dis time I won't fail you!

///

Jean-Luc tried to take care of the threat of the assassins. With talking he tried to convince them to stop targeting Warren. But that proved rather difficult as their minds were set on upholding their reputation. The only solution was to make sure that Remy and Warren left New Orleans as quickly as possible.

His head still reeled with the information Warren had supplied him with. Jean-Luc leaned back in the chair in his study, tapping his fingertips on the armrest. Remy was safe in his room and would continue to sleep for at least one more hour. Worthington refused to leave his son's side for even one second, something Jean-Luc admired, but it also made him wonder. Why was Warren so determined to stay close to his son?

Merde, Dis is such a mess! I finally got Remy back and now it turns out dat he has amnesia! Mon Dieu! I don't dare to think of what could have happened to him out dere on de streets if de assassins had recognized him! A dark, terrifying thought sneaked inside. What happened, my son? Warren tells me dat you've have been living on de streets for weeks. He even told me about de bastard who nearly raped you! When I get my hands on dat pervert…

He desperately wanted to go upstairs and hold his son's hand. But in his heart, he knew that it'd never again be the way it'd been before. After exiling Remy their relationship had gone downhill and he hadn't even visited Remy when he'd been with the X-Men! He'd made these mistakes and Jean- Luc would have to pay the prize, which might be his son's love.

One day I'll have to confess my shame to him. I delivered him into de hands of evil. If I hadn't obeyed de Antiquary Remy wouldn't have been hurt. Dis is my fault! Why did I agree to steal him from dat hospital? Even after all dese years I don't know why Remy is dis important to de Antiquary.

The weight of the world seemed to rest on his shoulders as he struggled to his feet. He'd left tante Mattie a message, telling her to hurry home, but it'd take her some time to get back. Jean-Luc drew in a deep breath to compose himself. He had to be strong now, had to be strong for Remy, who needed him. Or will I lose him a second time?

///

Two hours later, Warren still sat in the chair next to Remy's bed. Jean-Luc had offered him the guest room, but he'd refused. He wanted to be close to Remy. Now that they were safe, his personal demons haunted him and as he looked them in the eyes, he recoiled, realizing how arrogant and self-centered he had been these last years. No wonder Bets and he'd been such a 'perfect' match. We were both in love with ourselves, he realized with self-loathing.

Looking at Remy, he realized his mistake. Arrogantly, he'd thrown away a possible friendship. But all was not lost yet. Remy was alive and maybe the Cajun would give him a second chance?

His hands rested on the side of Remy's bed and his eyes slowly searched the room, which was nothing like he'd thought it would be. A big four-poster bed took up most of the classically furnished room. Near the stain glass window stood a heavy desk and an armchair from the time of Louis the Fourteenth, which looked comfortable and cosy.

Paintings from renowned artists gave the room a fresh and warm appearance and an easel stood in the corner of the room. A palette, still carrying traces of mixed paint rested next to it. Thick, red carpet covered the floor and the dark wooden furniture reminded Warren of his father's study.

"Remy?" he whispered softly and leaned in closer. Remy lays on his back, soundly asleep. Warren still remembered the obvious affection in Jean-Luc's gestures when he'd tucked his son in.

"Can you hear me?" Hesitantly, he raised a trembling hand and rested it on Remy's brow. The urge to touch the Cajun wa overwhelming. I just want to make sure he's fine, not developing a fever!

That's not true! His conscience berated him. You want to touch him because you care about him!

With sudden apprehension he pulled back. "I don't need to touch him to know he's fine!" His fingertips burned from touching Remy's skin. What the hell's wrong with me? Why do I want to touch him so badly? Puzzled, he tried to create some order in his chaotic thoughts.

Remy's luscious lips drew his glance and unexpectedly, he wondered what it'd feel like to kiss them. Kiss him? Kiss Remy LeBeau?

Shocked, he pushed back his chair. A strangled moan fled his lips. This couldn't be happening! Damn! I felt this way when I was falling in love with Bets and… All of a sudden things fell into place. I can't be falling in love with him! I don't like men in that way!

But what if? Terrified by this unexpected revelation he clasped his hands in an attempt to beat the urge of wanting to stroke the auburn hair. I'm not gay... bi or whatever you call it! I like women, not men! Oh my God, this can't be happening! It's stress! I can't…

"Monsieur Worthington?" Jean-Luc entered his son's room and wondered about the horrified expression in his guest's eyes. "Remy will be fine," he said, hoping to soothe the man's worries. "He won't die."

Oh my God! That's not it! I can't stay here! I've got to get away from him! Warren fought down his rising panic.

Jean-Luc slowly approached the bed. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Warren managed to whisper. He couldn't show his confusion and had to act like everything was fine. Concentrate! Find something else besides Remy to talk about!

"I talked to de assassins. Dey won't give in. I suggest you stay inside as long as you are here." Jean-Luc pulled up the armchair and sat down opposite Warren. Out of habit, he gently took hold of his son's hand and rubbed the knuckles. "We need to talk about Remy."

"Of course," Warren replied automatically, but his mind wandered off. I can't be in love with a man That's wrong!

Jean-Luc mentally reviewed all new information and eventually asked, "How did Remy end up in a hospital in Houston?"

I don't want to have this conversation! But Jean-Luc wouldn't leave him alone until the Cajun knew the whole sordid truth. "Things went awfully wrong when we were in Antarctica and Remy had to find his own way home. I asked him that same question, but he doesn't remember what happened after most of us left." Rogue's visit flashed in his mind. Suddenly, he grew suspicious of her motives. Why had she been so damned pleased about the fact that Remy had died?

I always wondered about those two, Warren admitted privately. I just don't buy it that she loved him. Rogue is… cold. Can't really explain it, but… it always felt like she kept him at a distance, playing him. Although Rogue had helped him escape Apocalypse's control, he didn't trust her, never had. Maybe it was because Bobby idolized her at times? I still think Bobby is or was in love with her and love makes blind.

"Monsieur Worthington?" Jean-Luc clasped his fingers around Remy's, knowing every inch of that skin by heart, knowing each scar intimately. He'd kissed those scars when Remy had been a child, as it had been the only way to make the boy's emotional pain go away. Even now, he felt the urge to lift those agile fingers to his lips and kiss the pain away. Only tante Mattie and he knew how much Remy still craved such expressions of affection. Damn de Antiquary!

"You should call Houston and see what the doctors say. Remy's been asking about his past and I just can't tell him…"

"What?" Jean-Luc closely observed his guest, realizing Warren was holding back.

"Did Remy tell you about the Morlocks and the Marauders?" Warren shifted in his chair.

"Non, but my informants did. Remy doesn't know I 'spied' on him dese last few years." Jean-Luc actually brought Remy's fingers to his lips and kissed the knuckles. He ignored the odd look Warren gave him, determined never to feel ashamed for the love he bore his son. He'd never shy back from showing Remy how much he cared for him!

"I still don't know why he worked for Sinister and…" Warren grew quiet. I no longer care about finding those answers. I just want him to heal!

"I suggest we only tell him things that won't make him feel threatened. I know my son. Remy's vulnerable." Jean-Luc lowered Remy's hand and covered it with his. "Remy, do you remember me?" he whispered questioningly. "Or do you no longer remember your poppa?"

Entranced, Warren stared as Remy's eyes fluttered slightly. "He's waking up."

Jean-Luc considered his next action. "Talk to him, Remy knows you, trusts you." He wanted to play this safe. Seeing Warren first would reassure Remy that everything was fine.

"Shouldn't you do that?" Warren objected weakly, unwilling to look into those enchanting alien eyes. He knew that looking into those eyes would weaken his resolve to leave New Orleans as quickly possible. He needed to get away from Remy!

Remy slowly opened his eyes, testing the brightness in the room. Relieved, he opened them completely. Never t'ought I was goin' to survive… or is dis hell? Can' go to heaven… He felt lazily fatigued. It was a pleasant feeling and he didn't fight it.

"Ange?" Remy whispered hopefully. Please let mon ange be 'live! The possibility that those daggers had ended his angel's life made him tremble violently.

Jean-Luc gave Warren an encouraging nod.

Reluctantly, Warren leaned in closer so Remy could see him. "I'm just fine, Remy." Those red on black eyes found his and Warren barely suppressed a choked moan, seeing the intensity in them.

"Bien," Remy mumbled contented and smiled weakly. "Hope I didn' scare you."

"You gave me a heart attack!" Warren exclaimed and forced himself to calm down again. "Don't you ever do such a thing again, Remy!"

"Can' let dem murder an ange…" Remy was getting tired again, but had to convince himself first that Warren was real and not a hallucination. His right hand snaked over the blanket in search of Warren's. "Please?" he pleaded, wanting to feel his angel's touch.

Warren swallowed hard. Remy, don't… Only a moment ago he'd been determined to flee the Cajun's touch. But how could he deny Remy? The Cajun had almost died for him!

Satisfied, Remy sighed as warm, long fingers curled around his. "Merci…"

"Remy, you need to rest," Jean-Luc chose this moment to make his presence known. Apprehensively, he waited for a reaction. Would Remy recognize him?

Surprised to hear another voice, Remy cocked his head. In the end, he managed to focus his eyes and he forgot to breathe as he looked into warm eyes. This man, his face… that voice…

"Remy?" Jean-Luc tried to put all the love he felt for his son into that one word. Remy's eyes locked with his and Jean-Luc smiled reassuringly. "You're home, petite," using the nickname he'd given Remy so many years ago.

Warren grew worried as Remy tightly squeezed his hand. "Remy!"

But Remy couldn't take his eyes off the man's face. He knew that face… This man had held his hand before… had held him when he'd had nightmares, had kissed his brow, had helped him readjust to life after he'd finally escaped the Antiquary. This man had been his anchor for years… and had shown him that there was food in abundance and that no one would take it away from him... had allowed him to cry in those strong arms. This man was…

"Poppa?"

///

"Poppa?" Remy repeated in bafflement and suddenly became aware of the fact that Jean-Luc was caressing his fingers. That gesture felt so damn reassuringly and familiar that he tried to sit upright to get closer to his father.

"Don't, Remy," Jean-Luc said quickly, applying minor pressure on his son's chest. "Don't try to sit up. You're wounded." The feelings moving through him were intense. He'd been afraid to hope that Remy would remember him, but his son had done just that! The stare in Remy's red on black eyes was awfully familiar. Jean-Luc knew that lost expression only too well.

But he also knew how to deal with his son. If what Warren had told him was true, Remy had to relearn using his mutant powers and he chuckled softly, remembering all the things Remy accidentally charged and blew up in those early days.

But there's also a dark side they'd have to confront. Shivers run down his spine. They'd have to discuss the Antiquary and the abuse his son had suffered. But they'd dealt this problem before, he could deal with it again and this time he'd tell Remy the absolute truth. No more white lies, no more holding back. He wanted an open relationship, no more lies!

Remy tried to smile, but grew uneasy as his father remained quiet. Had he done something wrong? He'd never felt this lost before, knowing instinctively that Jean-Luc struggled with something. Afraid to speak up, Remy concentrated on their physical presence. Jean-Luc held his left hand and his angel his right. Feeling cherished, his gaze shifted from Jean-Luc to Warren.

Warren felt completely lost. Remy's eyes cut through his soul and he could no longer deny the truth; he was falling in love with the Cajun! He cursed the fact that he couldn't get up and simply walk away from this. He owed Remy big time. The only thing left to do was to act like nothing had changed and try to come to terms with this attraction. Hopefully this feeling would fade away quickly!

"Remy?" Jean-Luc smiled warmly, seeing the confusion on his son's face. "You're back in your old room. I hoped it'd make you feel more comfortable. You know who I am?" he asked eventually, wanting to test Remy's returning memory. What did his son remember? What was Remy still locking away?

Confused, Remy locked eyes with Jean-Luc. "I don' really know," he whispered.

"What do you know?" Jean-Luc pressed on, still rubbing his son's fingers.

Suddenly, without thinking the words flowed from Remy's lips. "You saved my life when I was little… took me in when I tried to steal your money."

"Oui, dat's right." Jean-Luc smiled kindly. "I adopted you."

Warren looked up. This was new to him. You're not his real father? Yet another mystery he had to solve. "Adopted?" Warren said questioningly.

Remy and Jean-Luc exchanged looks. "You want to tell him, son?" Jean-Luc wanted to know what else Remy remembered.

Slowly, Remy nodded his head, equally curious to find out what memories would surface. "I was… ten?"

"Oui," Jean-Luc replied relieved, reminding himself to take this slowly. He had to try and concentrate on the good things that had happened to Remy. They could deal with the bad stuff once Remy had healed. "I adopted you when you were ten."

A weak smile flowed from Remy's face. "I escaped de…" he didn't really want to say the word, but he had to, "de Antiquary and had no place to go."

"You tried to steal my wallet, you scoundrel!" Fondly, Jean-Luc smiled at him. How could I ever hand over a baby to de Antiquary? Remy will pay de price for my mistake de rest of his life!

Remy cocked his head and sent a beaming smile in Warren's direction. Contrary to Jean-Luc, Warren's fingers felt icy cold. Concerned, Remy tried to lock eyes with his angel, but Warren averted his. A sting of sadness moved through him and Remy wondered why his angel didn't want to look at him.

Jean-Luc picked up on the sudden chill and gently squeezed Remy's hand. "You turned de LeBeau household upside down, petite. You ran up and down de stairs, plundered de food supplies and hid underneath my desk to get my attention. You kept me busy, you still do!"

Warren stared at Remy's nimble fingers, which rested in the palm of his hand. Those fingers had bandaged his wound, had tangled in his hair as Remy had soothed him after his nightmares. In spite of Remy's sordid past, the Cajun had never been afraid to touch him when offering comfort and all Warren could think of was mimicking Jean-Luc's earlier action. He wanted to lift those fingers to his lips and kiss them one by one, suckling their tips.

Shocked by his own desires Warren felt miserable. Hesitantly, he moved his fingertips over the back of Remy's hand, rubbing the skin in a soothing manner. As he absentmindedly caressed those long fingers, something Jean-Luc had said finally sunk in. He was ten? Remy was ten when Jean-Luc adopted him? A revelation hovered at the edge of his mind and he tried hard to grasp it.

My God! Warren yelped mentally. Does that mean the Antiquary abused him for ten years? Ten long years filled with pain? Oh no, and he ended up on the streets after he escaped? He had to survive somehow until Jean-Luc found him. Warren couldn't imagine the terror Remy had been exposed to in the first years of his life and helplessly, he sought out Remy's eyes.

How could Warren ever think the red on black eyes were arrogant and cocky? Why had he never looked passed that mask? Why had he never seen the pain hiding in them? It broke his heart, realizing what being a slave to the Antiquary had done to Remy. "I'm so sorry," Warren mumbled in an unguarded moment, earning a puzzled glance from Remy.

"Ange?" Remy whispered, taken aback by the regret that shone from Warren's eyes.

"I only now realized…" Warren sought out Jean-Luc's eyes. "What he did to you."

Still puzzled, Remy wanted to ask Warren for an explanation, but Jean-Luc shook his head no and Remy remained quiet. Why were both these men so awfully protective of him? He could take care of himself! Had been doing that his entire life!

However, Jean-Luc had a pretty good idea what Warren had just realized. He didn't like to think or talk about the Antiquary himself, but for his son's sake he'd face the sorcerer one day. Banishing him from the thieves' Guild hadn't been punishment enough!

"I'm such a bastard," Warren mumbled absentmindedly, barely registering Remy's protest. "You don't know what I did to you, Remy." Warren raised his head and stared at the ceiling, remembering his failure at the trial.

He never tried talking to the Cajun, find out what kind of person Remy was. It was like Apocalypse had said, he'd judged Remy without compassion or understanding.

"Warren?" Remy tried again, this time ignoring Jean-Luc's warning eyes. "What's wrong? You're in pain?" he asked, remembering the sniper attack. "Did someone look after your wound?"

Warren couldn't take this any longer and abruptly released Remy's hand. After all the Cajun had been through Remy still worried about him? Disgusted with his own behavior, Warren rose to his feet. Remy's big eyes tore at his soul. The last thing he wanted to was to leave the Cajun, but this was best for both of them. "I need to make some calls," he said apologetically and started for the doorway.

"Ange?" Remy tried calling him back, although Jean-Luc told him no. What had happened just now? Why had Warren jumped to his feet like that? He desperately craved learning those answers.

"Let him go, petite. He'll be back," Jean-Luc whispered. "We'll take turns sitting with Remy, won't we, monsieur Worthington?" He figured out by now, why Warren was this reluctant to leave his son's side. It was guilt. Whatever had happened between Warren and his son was still unresolved. If there was one thing he had learned in his long life, it's that running away would only make things worse.

Warren turned his back on Remy and Jean-Luc, as he didn't want them to see his facial expression. His lip trembled and his hands turned into fists. Why would Remy want Warren to sit with him? He messed up so badly!

"Worthington?" Jean-Luc pressed on, worried by Remy's saddened eyes.

"Yes," Warren said eventually, feeling more and more uncomfortable with every passing second.

Smugly, Jean-Luc smiled at his son. Whatever was going on, he'd find out the truth. "You see, petite? He'll sit with you when I can't."

Warren mumbled something intelligible and marched out of the room. Yes, he needed to call the mansion and talk to Wolverine. Although Logan and he never got along, he knew that Wolverine couldn't deny this request. The Canadian's claws were the only substance that would cut through Remy's shackles.

"Poppa?" Remy looked up at his father, fighting his growing fatigue. "I didn' remember you…"

"I realize dat, otherwise you'd have come to me." Jean-Luc took a deep breath. "You got any questions for me?"

Gingerly, Remy nodded his head, but he was afraid to actually ask this question.

"Come on, son, speak," Jean-Luc encouraged him in a gentle tone.

"De… Antiquary… can he still hurt me?" Remy lowered his eyes and stared at Jean-Luc's hand. "I still don' remember everyt'in'," he explained awkwardly.

"Dat man will never again lay a finger on you," Jean-Luc promised passionately. "You're safe here, my son. No one can hurt you here."

Relieved, Remy's eyes closed. "Merci, wasn' sure," he whispered fatigued. "Poppa?"

"Oui?" Jean-Luc leaned forward and kissed his son's brow.

"Look after Ange for me? He needs someone to take care of him," Remy whispered and smiled warmly. "I like him."

"You always had a thing for angels," Jean-Luc replied with a soft chuckle. "Don't worry about him, Remy. I'll keep an eye on him for you. Anything else?" He smiled, already knowing Remy's answer.

"Hold me?" Remy said hesitantly, remembering how it used to feel, surrendering to his father's love and care. If it hadn't been for this man he wouldn't be alive today. After he'd got away from the Antiquary he'd considered taking his life. Only Jean-Luc had stood between him and his death wish.

"Mais oui," Jean-Luc whispered affectionately. He slipped one arm underneath Remy's shoulders and leaned in closer, holding his son tightly. "I used to rock you. It was de only way you would go to sleep."

Remy smiled melancholy, as Jean-Luc cautiously rocked him in his arms. "Je t'aime, poppa," he mumbled pleased and contentedly.

"And I love you too, my son. I always will," Jean-Luc promised, rocking his son in his arms. If it weren't for the injury, he'd pull Remy upright and wrap his arms around his son. "Now try and rest. I also want your promise dat you won't try to leave your bed."

Remy chuckled. "Does dat mean you don' trust me, poppa?"

"I know you, Remy. You'll get bored and den…" Jean-Luc cupped his son's face in the palm of his hand and looked deeply into his eyes "Let me care for you, Remy, like I did before. You're not alone in dis."

Fatigued, Remy smiled lazily. "Will stay in bed, I promise."

"Bien!" Jean-Luc exclaimed satisfied, laid his son down gently and pulled up the comforter. "Warm enough?"

Silently, Remy nodded his head. He felt completely at peace and cherished.

"I'll sit with you for now. Later, your friend will take over." Resting his back against the chair Jean-Luc smiled as Remy's eyes closed completely. "Sleep and have sweet dreams, my son." A solitary tear slipped down his check. If anyone deserves wonderful dreams, it's you, petite. Still holding onto Remy's left hand, he sat there, truly enjoying watching his son sleep.

///

Feeling uncomfortable, Warren sank down onto his bed. Louis had shown him to his guest room and he had to admit Jean-Luc had excellent taste. The room was richly furnished and actually made him feel welcome.

But he couldn't deny that his thoughts were somewhere completely else, in another room in the same wing. Remy… All he could think about was Remy and the way he reacted to feeling that skin underneath his fingertips.

"Focus!" Warren said angrily and picked up the phone. Jean-Luc's men would probably listen in on the call, but that didn't matter, as they'd discussed calling the X-Men. Warren dialed Logan's personal phone number. "Come on, be there!"

"What the hell? Who's this? It's 4 in the mornin'!"

"Logan, it's Warren."

"That figures!" Feeling grumpy, Logan considered terminating the call. But something about this felt odd. Why would Warren call him in the middle of the night? He sat upright in bed, pushing a pillow underneath his neck. "What do ya want, Wings?" It was no secret they couldn't stand each other. That made this call even more suspicious. "Yer in trouble?"

Warren took a deep breath, hearing the disdain underneath the polite tone. "I'm not in trouble, not any more," he started thoughtfully. "But I do need your help."

"MY help?" Had Logan misheard? "MY help, Wings? Why?"

"I need you to come to New Orleans," Warren said cautiously, uncertain whether he should bring Remy up just yet.

"New Orleans?" Logan's eyes narrowed. "What are ya doin' in Cajun country?"

"Are you coming or not? I'm not kidding, Logan. I need your help." Frustrated, he wished there was another way of getting those shackles off, but this was the only thing he could think of.

Reluctant to commit to this, Logan grabbed a cigar. "Give me a reason why."

Warren banged his fist into one of the pillows on the bed. It felt oddly liberating. "Can't you just trust me this once?"

"Why would I?" Logan countered. "I'm perfectly fine here in Westchester."

Warren considered his alternatives, but he couldn't tell Wolverine about Remy yet. He didn't know if Remy wanted the X-Men to know that he was still alive. "I can't force you, Logan, but…" he almost bit off the tip of his tongue speaking this last word, "Please?"

This got Logan's attention. Warren sayin' please? That's definitely a first. "Kay," he gave in. "Will take me a day or two to get there. Bobby and Scott are on some mission and took the Black Bird."

"Logan?" Relieved, Warren laid down on his left side. "You won't regret it. Thanks." Now that Logan had agreed to help he just wanted to get some sleep.

"Don't thank me yet," Logan warned him. "And this better be good!" Irritated at the interruption Logan terminated the connection. What the hell had gotten into Warren? The man sounded worried… Well, he'd find out shortly.

///

Warren stripped and threw his clothes onto the floor. He was tempted to take a shower before getting some sleep, but couldn't drag his tired body away from the bed. His eyes closed and a contented sigh left his lips. Maybe everything would turn out just fine.

Remy would regain his memory and Jean-Luc would help his son get to terms with everything. The moment Logan arrived Warren would leave New Orleans. Hopefully, by that time this absurd attraction had died as well.

Flexing his wings, he spread them and moved onto his stomach, giving them room to relax. The puncture in his right wing no longer bothered him and his back stopped aching after the doctor re-bandaged it. He grabbed a pillow and pushed it underneath his head. Totally relaxed, he pulled up the comforter and allowed himself to fall asleep.

///

"Ange? Wake up… Ange."

"What?" he mumbled sleepily. "Don't want to wake up." Warren's having the most fabulous dream…

"Cher… cher?"

Suddenly recognizing the voice Warren felt the heat next to him. "Remy? What…?" The Cajun was in bed with him, face partly hidden underneath the comforter. All Warren saw were mischievous eyes, which twinkled at him. "Remy…?"

"I'm here, cher…"

The obvious longing in that husky voice sent shivers into Warren's soul. "What are you doing here?" Viciously, Warren pulled back the comforter, eager to get Remy out of the bed and back to his own room. "You should be resting!"

"I'm resting," Remy quipped delighted and demonstratively licked his lips, "Want me to prove dat to you, mon amour?"

Now that the comforter was on the floor, Warren realized his mistake. "You're naked!" he yelped helplessly. Yes, pulling back the comforter had definitely been a bad idea, but…

The Cajun had a gorgeous body. Remy was lying on his back and his long legs were spread wide in a seductive invitation. A flat and muscular stomach shone with minuscule sweat and the Cajun was clearly aroused, as his erect cock leaked pre- ejaculate.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Warren whispered breathlessly. The only time he'd seen other men naked had been in the communal shower after training in the Danger Room and that had never turned him on! But now his cock had been erect within seconds and pounded for release.

"You're hard, cher," Remy mumbled and grinned wickedly. "Need me to take care of you? Can do dat for mon ange…"

In disbelief, Warren stared at the agile fingers that slowly wandereddown his naked chest. Relieved, Warren remembered that he was still wearing his boxers. That would certainly stop the Cajun! Why was Remy acting like this? For that matter, why was the Cajun is his bed?

But Remy quickly slipped a bold hand passed the waistband.

"Remy, stop… don't do this!" Warren exclaimed dazed, as determined fingers closed around the base of his cock, which grew even harder. Involuntarily, he thrust against that warm hand. "Remy, don't," he repeated in a trembling tone.

A melancholy, even lost expression filled the Cajun's eyes as he spoke, "Know your secrets, ange. You want to fuck me, don' you? Dey always want to fuck me," Remy whispered saddened. "Accepted dat when I was little, but please… don' offer me money or a place in heaven?" he continued pleadingly. "Will do dis because I love you… not 'cause I'm a whore…"

"Rem!" Warren screamed in sudden anger as those dextrous fingers fisted him wildly. What did the Cajun think he was doing? Remy's words made no sense at all. "Stop babbling and stop touching me!"

But Remy crawled onto all fours, licking his lips. "Let me take care of you…" he whispered seductively. "Will let you fuck me, mon ange…"

Stunned, Warren stared into dilated pupils. Remy's eyes were heavily draped with lust or was it something else? Was it love? "Stop this, Rem," he commanded in a calm tone, for some reason feeling completely in control of this situation. Roughly, Warren grabbed Remy's wrists, determined to stop the Cajun from making a fool of himself.

But Remy reacted by rubbing his lower body against Warren's erection and for one moment Warren considered throwing the Cajun on his back and taking him. What would that feel like? Burying himself in Remy LeBeau's willing body… thrusting into that warmth, feeling a tight heat clenching him?

"Don' fight yourself, Ange," Remy whispered with pain in his voice, as he managed to free his wrists.

An alien sadness suddenly washed through Warren, seeing Remy's true agony. His rage faded as begging hands roam his body for warmth, once more fisting him. Warren shook his head in firm determination. "I don't want this," he said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "Not like this."

"Mais you do, Ange," Remy corrected him, leaning in closer. His lips descended onto Warren's smooth chest and he greedily suckled one hard nipple. "You want to hurt me… Will let you…"

"You're talking nonsense!" Warren insisted calmly, but held his breath as the Cajun raised himself, manoeuvring his body into position. Suddenly, the tip of his cock touched Remy's warm entrance. "I don't want this," Warren repeated sternly. "Not like this. I don't want to hurt you!"

"You hate me," Remy said regretfully and pushed down. "You hate me 'cause you love me."

"Stupid Cajun!" Warren's snarl was filled with repressed desire and passion. Maybe he wanted to take the Cajun, but not like this! Quickly, he brought up his arms behind Remy's back before the Cajun could impale himself. In one smooth movement he rolled Remy onto his back and straddled his hips. Once again, he grabbed Remy's wrists and held them tightly above the auburn hair. "What are you trying to do? Make me rape you?"

Unshed tears simmered in his red on black eyes. As Remy finally spoke his accent was heavy. "'ave been raped 'fore, not'ing new… Jus' one more homme who can' love me… an' I t'ought you were different, bein' an ange…"

"Rem, I want you to calm down now and…" Warren started, but halted as Remy's words penetrate his mind. His gaze softened and he hoped Remy heard the affection in his voice. "I'm not going to hurt you, Remy. I want you…" He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as Remy cut him short.

"Do you? Do you really want me?" Remy's voice was subdued, balancing between hope and fear of rejection. "Can you love me, Warren Worthington?"

Infuriated and saddened at the same time, Warren stared into alien eyes and then fell towards seductive lips, claiming and bruising them with his passion. "Maybe I can love you, Rem…" he whispered helplessly.

Startled, Warren's eyes flashed open, expecting to look into Remy's orbs, but instead he stared at the ceiling. His hands were empty, no longer restraining Remy's wrists and he was alone in bed. A dream! It was just a fucking dream!

Bathing in cold sweat Warren struggled upright. His breath came in ragged spurts and his hands shook as they clawed into the comforter. Disorientated, he tried to recompose himself. "It was only a dream!" he repeated, trying to reassure himself.

Remy never was in his room, never acted that out of control. It was just a dream! But a dream I need to think about. The things Remy said… Is my subconscious playing tricks on me or do I really want to hurt him? Hurt him because he makes me feel like this?

Shocked, he swallowed hard and swung his feet onto the floor. That dream had seriously upset him! Spreading his wings, he threw back his head in a desire to feel free. His feet no longer touched the floor now that his wings moved softly. I can still fly!

A moment later, he stood in the centre of the room, looking sheepishly at his pounding erection. He couldn't deny that this particular dream had aroused him. But at the same time it made him feel ashamed, even embarrassed, because Remy had accused him of wanting to hurt him.

"That's not true! I don't want him to… hurt," Warren whimpered softly. Marching into the bathroom he headed for the shower. He wished Bobby were here to ice the water up for him.

After he moved underneath the chilling water he bowed his head and finally allowed himself to mentally review the entire dream. Remy's words had touched something deep inside him. Yes, maybe he'd wanted to hurt the Cajun in the past in whatever way possible, but things had changed. God help him, but he cared for Remy, was in love with him, but he had no idea what to do with that infatuation. His erection refused to go away as long as the Cajun haunted his thoughts and eventually he curled his fingers around his aching cock. Slowly, he touched himself and felt ashamed because he imagined that Remy was stroking him to release.

"I've got to forget about Remy! This is wrong! Me getting aroused because of that dream is wrong!" Emotionally drained, he fisted his cock, arched his back and shot his completion into the beam of cold water. "I am not in love with him!" he maintained. "I'm not!"

///

"Monsieur LeBeau? We need to talk." In a hurry, Warren marched into Remy's room, determined to tell Jean-Luc's that he'd leave in a few hours. But his eyes were magnetically drawn to Remy, who was still asleep. Concern took over and Warren tiptoed over to the bed, locking eyes with Jean-Luc. "Did he have nightmares?" All thoughts of leaving suddenly fled his mind. Remy had managed to turn onto his side and was now curled up in foetal position. Looks like the stab wound doesn't really bother him.

"Doctor Mansour gave him sleeping meds," Jean-Luc informed him, realizing what puzzled the X-Man. "Did you already call de hospital in Houston?"

"No, I still have to make that call," Warren mumbled and shuffled his feet. In his dream Remy's body had felt warm and now that he was awake, he couldn't get the picture of Remy crawling over to him on all fours out of his head. But mixed into the lust and passion, which he felt for the young Cajun, was also regret and compassion for what Remy had been through in his short life. That dream had made him think and it still puzzled him; the way Remy had talked to him, the choice of words… the sensual movement of his body… had it just been a fabrication of his mind or had it been something else?

"When will he wake up?" Warren asked, determined to leave the room before Remy opened those hypnotic eyes. He couldn't face Remy right now. He was already trying hard not to blush at the memory of that dream.

"In a few hours, I reckon. Why don't you sit down and keep us company?" Jean-Luc wanted to talk to Warren, find out where the X-Man stood.

Warren's wings were spread and Jean-Luc definitely understood why Remy had assumed Warren was a real angel. If it weren't for the blue skin, he might have been fooled himself! Jean-Luc watched Warren sit down, realizing his wings were uncomfortable in certain situations.

Warren manoeuvred his wings into place and then waited for Jean-Luc to speak. Jean-Luc seemed uncharacteristically quiet and Warren knew instinctively that the patriarch was contemplating everything he'd seen and learned about Remy during these last few hours.

Jean-Luc released a soft sigh. He knew his son too well and had long recognized the signs. Remy's falling in love with his angel. We need to tell him de truth and we need to do it fast! It's so like Remy to fall for an 'angel,' Jean-Luc mused slightly amused. Although Jean-Luc wasn't prejudiced this development worried him. Remy thought that Warren was a real angel and… Remy's been seeking redemption his entire life. Warren can't take away his shame or pain, but Remy t'inks dat. Merde!

He wanted his son to be happy and it didn't matter what gender Remy's love had, though it still puzzled him why Remy also felt drawn towards men. Men had hurt him tremendously in the past and yet… If there was one thing Remy had taught Jean-Luc it was that love was genderless, ageless and endless. It was time to address this matter and Jean-Luc looked Warren in the eyes. He needed to take this slow and test the waters first. "What do you know of my son?"

"Too little," Warren confessed, wondering how to get out of this, but Jean-Luc's brow was determined. "I only know the things that happened after he joined the X-Men and what you told me a few hours ago. About Remy being adopted and the Antiquary, that's it." He felt a little guilty for his ignorance, but remembered that the other X-Men, except for Storm, had never tried coaxing the Cajun into talking.

Jean-Luc nodded his head. If he was going to do this, he'd do it right. Remy was falling in love with Worthington and Jean-Luc wanted Warren to know what he was throwing away should Warren chose to walk away from Remy. Dere really are no second chances… Jean-Luc thought saddened.

"I'll always remember de first dinner we shared," Jean-Luc started and rubbed Remy's fingers. As he locked eyes with Warren, Jean-Luc's voice grew stronger. He wanted Warren to understand who Remy was, what Remy'd been through and why his son was the way he was. "I took Remy home after de boy tried to pick my pocket." He smiled warmly. "Even back den he had potential."

Although Warren was determined not to get drawn in by Jean-Luc's words, he had to admit defeat. Closely, he listened to Jean-Luc's voice, which sounded calm and in control.

Jean-Luc nodded his head, remembering finding the boy. He'd never told Remy that it hadn't coincidence that the young boy had had an opportunity to get close enough to him to try and steal his wallet. He'd been searching for the small boy since he'd sprung Remy from the Antiquary's collection. Unfortunately he'd had lost sight of the boy after they'd made it out of the building.

"Monsieur LeBeau?" Warren wondered about the saddened eyes and addressed the patriarch, suddenly realizing how badly he wanted to learn more about Remy.

"Tante Mattie immediately took a liking to de boy and after she made dinner we led Remy into de dining room. At de sight of steak, baked potatoes, vegetables and dessert Remy halted in his tracks. I told Remy to wash his hands first before sitting down at de dinner table, but he ran over to de food. Within seconds, he'd stuffed de food in his shirt and tried to make his way back to de doorway, but finding it blocked, he crawled under de table. "

Warren raised an eyebrow. "I noticed something too… When we shared some sandwiches he acted like he expected me to take them away from him again. Why?"

"De Antiquary," Jean-Luc said with obvious contempt in his voice. "Dat bastard starved Remy and used food to make him obedient, but it didn't work. It only weakened Remy's body, not his determination." Resuming his story, Jean-Luc said, "I joined him under de dinner table and when I grabbed his arm to tell him that he could eat as much as he wanted, Remy froze completely, muttering apologies in a choked tone. He begged me not to beat him, or lock him up, dat he would give back de food and…"

Angered and shocked, Warren's eyes grew big. "But he was only ten? How can you starve a child?"

"De Antiquary's a vile man," Jean-Luc explained with guilt in his heart. "He wanted to break Remy… still don't know why."

Okay, this explains Remy's behavior when it comes down to food, what else do I need to know? Warren waited for Jean-Luc to continue.

Jean-Luc understood Warren's questioning look and continued. "When I took Remy in, he was hopelessly scared. Whenever I raised my arm to point something out to him Remy flinched, scared dat I was going to beat him. Each time dat happened I cursed de Antiquary for doing dis much damage. Remy's eyes were always lowered. De Antiquary convinced him dat people hated him because of dose eyes."

A deep anger boiled in Warren's mind. "I can't imagine what it must have been like for Remy…" Hearing this infuriated him. Why had no one protected Remy? Where had his parents been? Later, he'd ask those questions once Jean-Luc was done.

Jean-Luc stared at his son, lost in memories. "I'll never forget de scream-filled nights when nightmares tormented every second of his sleep," he revealed. "At first, Remy refused to talk to me about de Antiquary and what de bastard had done to him, but his pain needed a way out and in de end, he sobbed his pain in my arms." Jean-Luc took a deep breath to bring his emotions back under control. "You don't know what if feels like to hold a small boy in your arms, who's deadly afraid of being touched. I wanted to rock him, make him feel safe, but he went rigid in my arms. Sometimes, when Remy felt strong enough, he put up quite a fight to keep some distance between us. He broke my heart."

"You're right," Warren whispered with new understanding. "I don't know how that feels, but I've seen his nightmares and managed to calm him down. Yes, he fought me too, telling me not to touch him, but later…"

"It took him a long time to allow someone to hold him," Jean-Luc explained. "We did it step by step. We started by combing his hair, wash his face, and rub his fingers… It was very hard on him. My horror increased when he finally told me what de Antiquary had done to him. Those stuttered confessions were barely audible, but it was a sign dat he'd finally started to trust us. We gave him all de time he needed." Jean-Luc still vividly remembered the way Remy had twitched in his arms, finally letting everything out.

Warren feared he already knew the truth. "He beat Remy, starved him and…?"

"De Antiquary was set on breaking Remy's spirit. When nothing worked de bastard sexually assaulted Remy!" Jean-Luc's voice shook with anger and fury. "It was his last means of hurting de boy."

Silence descended onto the room after that admission. Warren felt strangely numb, realizing all this had happened to Remy in the first ten years of his life. His own childhood had been great. His father had taken care of him and he'd never wanted for anything, but Remy… Instinctively, wanting to offer comfort, Warren tightened his hold on Remy's hand.

"At first Remy's behavior mystified me. I just couldn't believe dat de Antiquary had abused him so savagely." Jean-Luc's voice was filled with endless regret.

Warren sat quietly, but his fingernails dug a way into the wood of the chair. He was only a small child! He was just a baby! Like Jean-Luc back then, he now had trouble realizing the enormity of the abuse. How did Remy ever recover?

"On dat first night tante Mattie carried him to bed. Remy had dozed off after dinner, due to exhaustion. I now know that it was Remy's first decent meal in his short life. It was de first time people hadn't taken away his food after showing it to him. Remy later admitted dat during dat first evening he'd waited for us to tell him to sit on his hands, never being allowed to touch de food."

"Poor kid," Warren whispered softly. He'd never intended to get this emotionally involved, but Jean-Luc's tale was getting to him. Rubbing Remy's fingers he wished someone had come to the rescue earlier.

"Later dat night, we heard screams. Dey came from Remy's room and we hurried upstairs. When Mattie had put him to bed Remy had been soundly asleep. But when we entered Remy's room, he stood in de corner, begging us not to be angry with him. He'd wet de bed and we assumed Remy felt ashamed for that. After we'd calmed him down, he told us that he wasn't allowed to go to sleep until his master had said so. When he'd woken up in bed, he'd been so frightened that he'd be punished dat he'd wet de bed. De Antiquary ruled his every thought and de fear dat de monster would be back to get him, consumed him."

Jean-Luc absentmindedly stroked his son's auburn hair, knowing damn well Remy had suffered this fate because of him. "Remy was a slave for ten years." Jean-Luc lifted his eyes and stared at the rain, dripping from the window. Re-living this was hard. "It took us hours to coax him into lying down again. He was so scared dat it was a trap and dat we would punish him later, dat we almost despaired. After Remy crawled out of bed again I took him in my arms and lay down with him on de bed. Dat sort of convinced him dat we wanted him to go to sleep. I held him during dat first night, soothed his nightmares and tried to show him dat we loved him." His voice shook with remembered pain.

As he looked at his son, soundly asleep underneath the warm comforter, Jean-Luc cursed his bad judgement. He should have known that the Antiquary was an evil man! Remy, I hope dat one day you can forgive me. His son would hate him once Remy knew that his 'loving' father had handed him over when he'd been just a baby.

"How did you… " Warren searched for the right words, "Reach him? Deal with his fear?"

Jean-Luc sighed deeply. "It was hard on both of us, but I dedicated my life to him. I spent every possible moment with him, showing him New Orleans, teaching him how to read and write myself and… we created a ritual before he went to bed."

Curiously, Warren looked from Jean-Luc to Remy. "What ritual?"

"I told you dat Remy was scared to death of being touched. After a few months he allowed Tante and me to dry his skin after he'd taken a shower. It was a great achievement for him. He'd take a bath before going to sleep and I enfolded him in warm towels. We did this for years…" Jean-Luc soothingly stroked Remy's brow. "De first time I saw dose scars I reacted like you did."

Warren nodded his head. "Making such a transition must have been hard on him."

"Took him two years before he addressed me as poppa. Remy was a quiet boy, always scared to do something wrong because he feared I might punish him for it."

And when he screwed up with the Marauders we did the same thing. Punish him for making a mistake, never considering the circumstances. And I, bastard that I am, refused to defend him at the trial! Feeling guilty, Warren wanted to leave the room, leave Remy's past behind him, but he couldn't bring himself to let go of the Cajun's hand.

"And den we had to deal with his mutant powers."

Jean-Luc's voice took Warren by surprise. He'd assumed the patriarch had told him everything there was to know. "Let me guess, Remy blew up a lot of things? Even with the X-Men he sometimes charged things accidentally."

Jean-Luc's warm laugh beamed through the room. "He blew up paintings, food, tante Mattie curlers, my notebooks, short circuited de security system. We still got large craters in de back yard from de objects he threw out of his room because he'd accidentally charged them!" These were fond memories. "He instantly got a reputation with de assassins."

Even Warren cracked a smile, relieved to hear something uplifting after Jean-Luc's depressing tale.

"But dere was also de charm and dat made things hard on him."

"Charm?" Warren cocked his head questioningly. "What charm?" The Cajun had never told them about that. Did Scott and the professor know or was this just another thing Remy had hid from them? "What's that, his charm?"

Jean-Luc's gaze darkened. "Let me explain dis." Oui, if his son was really interested in Warren, the X-Man better know about the charm. Might prevent them from getting hurt. "When I sat Remy down to talk after he'd escaped de Antiquary, he kept a distance. He didn't allow me to come within 3 feet of him. After long talks, he asked me why I hadn't ordered him to pleasure me yet. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. After I figured it out, I had to leave de room to get de anger out of my system."

Warren sat on the edge of his chair, dying to learn more about Remy. "Pleasure you?"

"You must understand what de Antiquary did," Jean-Luc chided Warren gently. "One of Remy's mutant powers manifested when he was five years old. Somehow, he can influence your emotions."

Warren whistled sharply between his teeth. "Sounds like an empath."

"I don't know about dat, but I do know dat de Antiquary used it against Remy. Remy told me dat de Antiquary blamed de charm for his abusive actions. For years Remy believed dat de Antiquary had raped him because de charm had made him do it."

Lost for words, Warren looked at Remy's peaceful expression. "The bastard put all blame on Remy?"

"Oui," Jean-Luc confirmed. "He planned on breaking Remy dat way. By doing dat he also made sure Remy stayed away from de other kids. Remy was too afraid dat de charm would affect dem too and dat dey'd hurt him."

"Letting you in must have been an immense step for him," Warren realized. "He must have been terrified that you wanted to hurt him too."

"But his charm doesn't work dat way," Jean-Luc continued in a surprisingly warm and respectful tone. "Oui, he can 'charm' you into doing things you don't really want to do, but… In all dese years dat I cared for him, de charm never struck me as something sexual. It never affected me."

Puzzled, Warren studied the lines edged onto Remy's brow. "I still don't understand… what this charm is," he admitted.

"Charm's de wrong word to describe it," Jean-Luc said slowly. "Let me give you an example. When Remy was 13, one of tante's favorite cousins died unexpectedly. At first we didn't understand what had changed, but de house smelled of flowers and dere was dis intense feeling of love and comfort dat seeped through every room. Tante's pain and sadness became more bearable and she remembered de good times dey'd had. Eventually we discovered de source of dis peaceful feeling. It was Remy, doing his best to comfort tante, instinctively using his power to ease her sorrow."

Definitely sounds like an empath. In his hand, Remy's fingers moved slightly, rubbing the palm of his hand.

"It was de only time ever Remy allowed dat power to slip from his control." Jean-Luc felt the slow change in movement as well, realizing Remy was waking up. "Do you understand now?"

"Yes," Warren said determinedly. Some of Remy's behavior, which he'd observed now made sense and it made him wonder if the professor had ever picked up on this. Remy could have used some guidance during his time with the X-Men. "But I still got one more question."

Jean-Luc observed Remy to make sure his son couldn't hear them yet. "What question is dat?"

"How did the Antiquary get his hands on a newborn? Where are Remy's real parents? Didn't they try to find him?" Judging by Jean-Luc's changed facial expression the patriarch wouldn't answer those questions.

And yes, Jean-Luc leaned forward, ignoring Warren. "Hello, son. How do you feel?"

Remy's eyes opened and a soft smile shone from them. "Better, merci, poppa." Slowly looking about Remy discovered his angel as well, sitting at his other side. His smile brightened. He'd feared that Warren would be gone the moment they were safe. "Bonjour, Ange."

Suddenly the dream comes rushing back to him and Warren flushed a crimson red.

Amused, Remy giggled softly. "You're blushin', Warren, why?"

Embarrassed, Warren stared at the floor. Remy had giggled like that in his dream and it made him wonder what kind of lover Remy would be. Nothing like in the dream, he realized instinctively, after hearing about the abuse and the way the Antiquary had blamed the charm power for his actions. Timid, nervous, maybe even afraid. Pursuing this line of thought, it suddenly made sense that Remy would pick Rogue to fall in love with. They can't touch, so he doesn't have to be afraid of what might happen.

Warren leaned back, but indulged Remy, whose fingers remained in his hand. What did that do to you, Remy? Hearing the Antiquary tell you that you're responsible for being raped? That twisted bastard. If he's still alive I'll find him and justice will be done!

"Ange? Warren?" Remy shifted a little in bed.

Jean-Luc acted immediately, pushing him down again. "Petite, rest."

Fondly, Remy smiled at his poppa. Jean-Luc would never stop protecting him and he loved the older man deeply for his concern. "Can I have somet'in' to drink?" he asked nicely, knowing how to wind his father around his little finger. "I'm t'irsty."

Jean-Luc grinned at the smile Remy gives him. "You still remember how to play your poppa, don't you, Remy?" Slowly, he got up from his chair, stretched his legs and walked over to Warren. "Tell him that you're a mutant," he whispered the command.

Warren nodded his head. He'd known all along that he had to come clean on this. "I will."

Remy watched them closely, knowing he was missing something here. The moment his father left the room, he elbowed himself into a sitting position. "How's your wing?"

"Fine," Warren whispered in discomfort. "Shouldn't you be lying down, moving as little as possible?"

Cautiously, Remy shrugged his shoulders. As long as he didn't try to get out of bed he was fine. His hand moved to his injured side, pressing the bandages closer to the wound, which lessened the pain. "Poppa will give me hell later, mais," he said and wriggled an eyebrow, "I can handle him."

Warren shook his head and grinned, realizing how deeply attached he had grown to the Cajun. "Just stay in bed," he said pleadingly, banishing his unsettling dream into the pit of his mind.

"Why are you dis serious?" Remy asked curiously. Rain tapped softly against the window and Remy felt utterly relaxed. He was in his warm bed, safe and sheltered and no longer walking the streets getting ill because of the wind and rain. Dis is heaven.

"We've got to talk, Remy," Warren started, suddenly too much aware of Remy's trembling fingers in his hand, "Do you know what a mutant is?" He wasn't sure why he was so reluctant to do this. The reverie in Remy's eyes bothered him, but he didn't want to take away Remy's… hope. The fact that an angel cares for you must mean a lot to you, more than I can possibly imagine and now I'm going to crush that belief.

Saddened, Remy nodded his head. "Oui, I'm a mutant." He didn't really want to discuss this, didn't want to talk about his eyes or people calling him le diable blanc.

Remy's answer surprised Warren. He hadn't expected the Cajun to remember that much. "Yes, you're a mutant… when did you start to remember?"

"When I saw poppa… when I was little he helped me control de chargin' power," Remy whispered uneasily. "And den dere's my eyes…"

And the charm power. "Remy, you see these bracelets?" and he pushed a finger underneath one of them. "They stop you from using your mutant powers. That's why we've got to remove them."

"Dat's why I can' use my powers? I 'ready wondered…" Remy whispered perplexed. Mais dat also means… my charm power is off! He no longer had to worry about letting it slip!

Gathering his courage Warren pulled Remy's hand close and rested it in his lap. He really hated doing this to Remy. "I'm not a real angel, Remy. I'm a mutant too." Closely, he watched Remy's reaction. But the Cajun hardly showed any. Remy only nodded his head in understanding.

He figured out that Warren was no real angel when Warren hadn't known about his background. Angels knew everything, didn't they? "Just never wanted to admit it to myself… Made me feel special… bein' friends wid an ange…"

Warren hated seeing the sadness he just put into Remy's eyes. "My codename is Angel…Archangel," he said cautiously, eager to find out whether Remy remembered the X-Men. "I'm sorry to disappoint you."

Awkwardly, Remy patted Warren's hand. Unintended, words slipped from his lips. "You'll always be my ange…"

"Oh, Remy!" Warren yelped helplessly. "I'm no saint! Soon, you'll remember what happened between us. We haven't been friends in the past!" Suddenly, he feared Remy's reaction when those memories surfaced. Hopefully I'll already have left New Orleans by that time!

Remy pressed his hand harder against the wound, realizing the truth. "You're leavin'," he whispered with certainty.

"Yes," Warren confirmed, but couldn't deny the ache that started in his heart. "In a few days. Jean-Luc will take care of you."

"My ange is desertin' me," Remy mumbled depressed. "Guess I 'ready took up too much of your time." The world he'd built around him collapsed. He could deal with the fact that Warren was a mutant and no real angel, but…"Can' you stay a little longer?" He didn't want Warren to leave yet. Except for Jean-Luc, Warren's the only person Remy trusted.

"This is for the best," Warren said steadfast. Once Remy remembered that they greatly disliked each other their new friendship would go to hell. And when he remembers me letting him down at the trial I better not be here.

Quickly, Remy wiped away the solitary tear that had escaped his eyes. He'd hoped he'd made a new friend, someone he could trust, but now he felt like falling from a great height with no one there to catch him. "I understand," he whispered softly. "Merci for takin' care of me."

"Remy…" Terribly confused, Warren felt torn between running away from the Cajun and gathering him in his arms to comfort him. But something kept him back. He couldn't reach out and soothe Remy.

"Please leave me 'lone?" Remy requested softly. The pain moving through him was something he had to deal with alone.

"If that's what you want," Warren rose from the chair and gently placed Remy's hand on the blanket. I really am a bastard, fucking up again and again! He was angry with himself, but clueless on how to remedy this situation. "I'm sure Jean-Luc will be back in a few moments." Slouching slightly, Warren made his way over to the doorway, casting one last glance at Remy. The young Cajun looked lost and helpless, curled into a tight ball and Warren fled the room in dread.

Remy still felt Warren's icy fingers on his skin, wishing his angel would come back to hold him again. He'd felt safe in Warren's arms, but he'd never experience that safety again. Warren would leave in a few days and he'd probably never see his angel again. "Just want somebody to love…" he whispered softly and kept back his tears. "Mais you don' want me to love you." His heart ached and he closed his eyes, shutting himself off from the outside world.

Part 12

"Remy? Worthington?" Jean-Luc stepped into Remy's room and halted in his tracks. The bed was empty and the chair next to it unoccupied. "Merde! Where are you, Worthington? Told you not to leave him alone!" A sound coming from the bathroom alerted him. "Remy? Is dat you?" He prayed his son hadn't done anything foolishly. "Remy? Answer me!"

Feeling caught, Remy's head whipped back and he resorted to the lamest excuse he could think of this quickly. "I'm only peeing, poppa!" he exclaimed in his most embarrassed tone, but quickly grabbed the towel to wipe away his tears. Sitting on the floor of the bathroom the wall felt cold against his back. Please let him come 'side and hold me… he thought longingly, but was afraid to speak the words.

They weren't necessary. Jean-Luc LeBeau knew his son and without hesitation he walked into the bathroom. "Don't lie to me, Remy," he chided his son and kneeled next to Remy. "What are you doing? You should be in bed." Remy's eyes were still filled with tears and as they rolled down the young man's cheek, Jean-Luc caught them with his fingertips.

"Why? Remy whispered in a dazed tone, "Why is he leavin'?"

"Your angel, non?" Jean-Luc sighed deeply and pushed his arms underneath Remy's knees and shoulders. As he lifted his son, he pondered Remy's question. "Your friend needs time. He's confused too, mebbe even scared."

Remy rested his head against his poppa's chest. "Sorry I left my bed, mais… I didn' want anyone walkin' in on me."

"I know dat," Jean-Luc assured him. "You always try to hide. Dere's no shame in crying. I told you dat a long time ago." He placed his son in bed and sat down on the side, still holding Remy. "You can cry in my arms like you used to, petite."

Remy finally calmed down a little, soothed by his father's persistent stroking of his back. "Je t'aime, poppa," he whispered softly.

"Je t'aime, mon fils," Jean-Luc replied in a similar tone and manner. "What are we going to do next?" Remy had to make the decisions. Remy needed to be in control. As his son didn't answer, he said, "Remy, I talked to de doctors, who treated you in Houston. Dey strongly advice you finally start taking your meds on a regular basis. Dey also advised me against telling you everything. You need time and when you're ready your memory will return. You've got to be patient…"

Remy smiled, as he snuggled up to Jean-Luc. "Will you stay wid me? Now dat Warren is leavin' I need you…"

"I'll always be here for you, my son," Jean-Luc promised passionately and placed a kiss on Remy's auburn hair. "I brought de meds… you're going to take dem now."

"Must I?" Remy objected, remembering feeling indifferent when under influence of the sedative.

"Oui." Jean-Luc got out the packages and rested his son's body in the pillows. "Let me get you something to drink." He filled the glass he'd brought along and offered Remy the water. "Take dem!"

Remy briefly considered protesting, but knew that would be futile. Jean-Luc wouldn't give in until he'd swallowed those meds. Reluctantly, Remy placed the pills on his tongue and drank the water.

"Open your mouth," Jean-Luc ordered. "No tricks."

With obvious reluctance Remy obeyed and showed him that he did swallow the meds.

"Now, where's your friend? He would sit with you in my absence." Jean-Luc pulled up a chair and made himself comfortable.

"I asked him to leave me 'lone," Remy said softly.

"But you really wanted him to stay, non?" Jean-Luc nodded his head. "Don't fall in love with him, Remy." He made sure no judgement sounded in his voice, just concern.

"I can' help it, poppa," Remy confessed in a shaky tone. As he lifted his eyes to meet his father's, he saw the love in them and fervently hoped that maybe one day Warren's eyes would shine like that too. Right now they were dark and desolate, mirroring an inner struggle. "I t'ink I fell in love wid him when I saved him from de sniper."

"Oh Remy," Jean-Luc sighed in compassion. "Wish you would finally meet someone who can love you just de way you are."

"How can dey?" Remy's tone grew dark. "When I can' love myself?"

"Remy, Remy, Remy," he continued to whisper the name, cautiously rocking his son. He'd worked so hard all these years to build Remy's confidence and self-esteem to acceptable levels and now the amnesia had ruined his efforts. They had to start all over again! "Don't hate yourself, petite. De Antiquary hurt you because he's plain evil. Your charm didn't make him abusive. I'll tell you dis as many times as you need to hear it, my son."

"Poppa?" Remy whispered into Jean-Luc's shirt, unwilling to raise his face. "De charm's gone."

"It'll return once de bracelets have been removed," he said soothingly, never expecting Remy's fierce reaction.

"Don' want dem removed!" Remy sobbed.

"Why?"

"For de first time in my life I know what I'm feelin', not gettin' an echo of other people's feelings… and I'm not influencin' deir feelings 'bout me eider. Dis feels honest, poppa. Please… I don' want it back."

"Remy, you don't need to be afraid of your charm power. No matter what de Antiquary told you, it's not a sexual power. You can't seduce people and dey don't want to rape you on sight. Dis is in your head, petite."

Remy remained quiet, listening to Jean-Luc's heartbeat. He'd heard this lecture countless times and knew it by heart.

"It's because you still act and think like a victim, petite and de predators out dere pick up on it. You've got to stop feeling powerless, my son," Jean-Luc said determinedly. "And like before, I will be here for you."

///

Restlessly, Warren paced his room. Everything Jean-Luc had told him tore mercilessly at his soul. The pain, the sadness, the loneliness… had been there all along in Remy's eyes, but he'd refused to see it, like most of the X-Men.

He'd just called Logan on the phone, giving him directions and Jean-Luc's address. Logan had grunted his impatience, but had seemed willing to do this for him, something that still surprises Warren. Maybe Logan had figured out this is important?

Sinking down on his bed he looked at his hand, which had caressed Remy's fingers only moments ago. He should leave this place as quickly as possible. Maybe he wouldn't even wait for Logan to arrive. Knowing that Remy was this close and yet out of reach drove him mad. "Can't be feeling this. I am not feeling this! I am not in love with a man!" he stated feverishly.

Remember Bobby?

Damn that irritating voice in the back of his head! He wished he could shut it down. "Bobby, what about Bobby?"

Bobby's gay.

"I fucking know that!" he exploded, "So what!"

You told him it was all right to be gay or bi, remember?

"That was different!" he maintained enraged. "Bobby's been unhappy with dating women his entire life! I love women! Love the way they feel!"

Then why didn't your relationships work out?

"Why don't you just shut up?" he questioned in turn and kicked a pillow over the floor. "I'm not having a conversation with myself!"

That's it. Just deny the truth like you always do. Run away from Remy and your feelings… you always do.

"Okay, that's it! I'm certified crazy! I need to get out of here!" Warren wanted to head for the doorway, but the door suddenly opened. "What do you want? I'm not in the mood for your stories!"

Jean-Luc eyed Warren suspiciously. Warren's hair was flying madly around his head and his eyes burned with unholy fire. Something was eating this man alive. Tempered, he decided on a different course of action. "Remy told me dat you'll leave shortly?"

"Yes, tomorrow!" Warren snarled infuriated, shocked by his own reactions. He had to get his emotions back under control before he'd do something stupid. "Don't worry. I'll leave New Orleans and won't come back!"

Remembering Remy's pain, Jean-Luc refused to give in yet. "Remy needs you."

"He doesn't!" Warren sneered. "He only needs you!" He grabbed the phone and dialed a number. Tomorrow, his personal jet would take him far away from New Orleans! Maybe he'd give Bets a call, try and get together again.

"You're hurting Remy by leaving in this way," Jean-Luc said bluntly. Warren puzzled him. Why was there this immense anger and rage in his eyes? It hadn't been there when they'd talked about Remy earlier.

That statement halted Warren in his tracks and the phone dropped onto the bed. "I don't want him to hurt," he said honestly. "But I can't stay!"

"Will you say good-bye to him before you leave?" Jean-Luc studied Warren and had reached a conclusion. This man was fighting himself.

"Yes, I will," Warren replied on impulse and then regretted his answer. He didn't want to face Remy again. The pain in those red on black eyes had almost broken his heart in two before. "Wolverine will arrive tomorrow," he informed Jean-Luc. "He can remove the bracelets. I don't know how long he'll stay."

Jean-Luc considered telling Warren about Remy's plea not to remove those bracelets, but realized it wouldn't make a difference. Warren had to confront himself first before he could look at his feelings for Remy.

"How is he doing now?" Warren asked awkwardly and picked up his phone again.

"Asleep. He finally agreed to taking his meds."

"That's good…" Warren whispered absentmindedly. "He'll get better. Remy will heal."

Again, Jean-Luc held his tongue.

"Tell me when Remy wakes again?" Warren requested. "I'll say my good-byes then."

"You have no idea what you're throwing away, monsieur Worthington," Jean-Luc stated in a formal tone. "And once you realize dat, it'll be too late." After having said that he closed the door behind him and hurried back to his son's room.

///

Snuggled up to his pillows Remy's dreams changed. A moment ago he'd been surrounded by endless stretches of ice, but now he soared through the sky. Strong arms were wrapped around his waist, pressing him into the body on top of him.

Beautiful white wings took him higher and he smiled gloriously. His angel took him higher and higher and wasn't leaving him as he'd said he would. "Je t'aime," Remy whispered into the soft feathers and curled his fingers around his angel's.

Warren's warm laugh cascaded through the air. "Crazy Cajun."

His lover's tone was filled with love and affection and lips showered him with kisses pressed at the back of his neck. As Remy looked down at the Earth below, he whispered, "Don' leave me, Warren."

"How could I ever leave you?" Warren replied as his strong wings took them higher towards the stars.

Remy's eyes filled with tears. "You can… you will," he whispered waking up. As the dream faded from memory, another image flashed in his head. His pupils dilated, wondering where he was now. He was awake and this scene scared the hell out of him. These tunnels seemed endless and shadows hid in the passageways. Voices muttered around him and eyes stared at him from the darkness.

Panting hard, he struggled to sit upright. This wasn't a dream. This wasn't a fantasy. He was remembering his past and it was filled with pain and betrayal.

Why did you do this to us? Hundreds of voices slammed their claws into his mind. You brought them here!

"Please… no more!" he panted in panic. But the voices grew in intensity and suddenly a red diamond sparkled from the darkness. "Non!" Remy exclaimed frantically. "Non, I didn' know!"

Jean-Luc stormed into the room, alarmed by Remy's yelps. He'd only left briefly to make arrangements for Wolverine's arrival. "Remy, poppa's here… What scared you?" Within a heartbeat he was next to his son, but not reaching out for him yet. He'd learned from personal experience that nightmares were very real to Remy.

"Tunnels… eyes… voices… and a diamond…" Remy panted and fell back into the pillows. His side hurt and his face contorted. Hopefully, the wound hadn't opened again. "Please stay, poppa?"

"I will," Jean-Luc stroked his hair out of Remy's face. He was getting tired as well. It'd been too many hours since he'd had some rest and Remy needed him constantly. If only Warren would rise to his responsibility, but the X-Man was running away.

Suddenly Remy noticed the beginning dark circles underneath his poppa's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm keepin' you 'wake."

"Dat doesn't matter, Remy," Jean-Luc assured him. "Move over…dat way I can get some sleep too!" It'd been too many years since he'd last done this. In those first months Remy had slept in his arms as it'd kept away the nightmares.

After shooting Jean-Luc a wicked grin Remy cautiously made room for his father. "Feel like your petite fils 'gain," he admitted as he moved into the embrace.

"You'll always be mon petite fils." Jean-Luc covered both of them with the comforter and hummed a melody.

Hearing that humming made Remy cry softly. In the Antiquary's rooms he'd been cut off from sound. "Don' stop," he said pleadingly.

"Go to sleep, Remy. I'll watch over you. Dey can't hurt you any longer."

"Wishin' my ange were here as well," Remy admitted. It'd been a slip of the tongue, but Jean-Luc probably knew his every feeling. "I miss him…"

For the first time in years Jean-Luc didn't know what to say. He didn't want to give Remy false hope, but the way Warren had been struggling with himself had told Jean-Luc that nothing had been decided yet. "I know you do, Remy…"

///

The next morning Warren woke from a dreamless sleep. Secretly he'd hoped that his dreams would be about Bets, but the only thing he remembered were swimming red on black eyes.

"I love Bets…" Warren whispered as he marched into the bathroom. He'd take a quick shower, have breakfast and then head for his flight. His plane was already standing by to take him to Westchester. But first he had to face Remy one last time.

As he brushed his teeth, he stared into the mirror and studied himself critically. Once he's back at the mansion he should work out regularly again. Bets would want him in shape or she wouldn't take him back.

But every time he thought of Betsy, Remy's eyes appeared in the mirror mocking him. At least his conscience was quiet for now.

After he'd shaved he got dressed, feeling thankful that Jean-Luc had had the courtesy to offer him some clothes. His old ones were stained with blood. Dressed in a black sweater and Denims he left his room. Constantly, he kept an eye on the time, not wanting to be late for his flight. Only a few more hours and I can forget about Remy.

///

"Monsieur Worthington," Jean-Luc greeted him coldly. Although he realized that it took most people time to accept their sexual preferences, he didn't feel sympathetic in this case. Probably because it was his son who was paying the prize.

Jean-Luc discovered his own preferences decades ago. Actually, dey tell me I look pretty good for a man over a hundred. Before the Antiquary had ruined his life he'd dated women and men, finding them willing and passionate. He used to court his new lover for a while, getting to know him or her before taking them to his bed.

But this had changed after he'd adopted Remy. Suddenly, this scared little boy had become the centre of his world and Jean-Luc had done the best he could to be a father to Remy. Had he failed or succeeded?

"My plane leaves in two hours." Warren piled the food onto his plate.

"I'll arrange for an escort. De assassins are waiting for you to leave de house." Jean-Luc sipped from his coffee. "Remy's waiting for you in his room."

"I'll talk to him." Warren sat down and started eating breakfast. A question burned his lips. "Did he sleep well last night?"

Saddened, Jean-Luc shook his head. He does care for Remy, but can't face dat truth yet… Forcing himself to reply, Jean-Luc said, "I held him during de night. His nightmares took him back to de Morlock tunnels. His memory's coming back."

"The tunnels," Warren whispered lost. His wings trembled underneath the sweater. "Then it won't be long before he remembers Sinister and the Marauders as well."

"Dis Sinister…" Jean-Luc tried to remember what his informants had told him, "Does he have a red diamond on his brow?"

Warren shivered. "Yes, that's Sinister all right. Did Remy see the diamond in his dreams?"

Jean-Luc nodded his head. "You do realize dat dis Sinister used Remy?"

I don't want to think about this! Warren pushed his knife into the bacon and eggs. "Remy led them into the tunnels."

"Did you ask him why?"

"No, he doesn't remember!" Warren exclaimed upset.

"But you judged him nonetheless… and you're a lawyer?" Not hiding his loathing, Jean-Luc rose from his seat and stared hard at him. "You really don't deserve dose wings…" With those words he strode out of the room.

"I know that," Warren whispered embittered.

///

"Remy?" Warren approached the bed, eager to say his good-byes so he could leave this city. To his surprise Remy was sitting up, huge pillows supporting his back. There was a drowsy expression in the Cajun's eyes, like Remy wasn't really awake yet. Must be the meds.

"Warren," Remy said softly, feeling a bit more in control now that he wasn't lying down any longer. He'd nagged for hours before Jean-Luc had helped him to sit up. "Dis is it? You're leavin'?" His words were slurred and Remy cursed his poppa for making him take those meds.

"Yes, plane's leaving in," Warren looked at his watch, "45 minutes."

Remy stared at his hands, which rested in his lap, bracelets still suppressing his powers, just like he wanted it. Once Warren's friend has arrived Remy would tell the man to leave the bracelets in place. He didn't want the charm back. "Wish you well, Warren." There was nothing left to say.

Warren cringed slightly hearing that tone. And all of a sudden it's Warren and not Ange… what have I done? Am I about to make the biggest mistake of my life? "I hope you'll get better soon, Remy," Warren said sincerely. "Maybe we can meet up one day for dinner? Geeze, that sounds stupid!

"Sure." Remy knew this good-bye was final. "We'll have dinner." But he played along to make this less painful on both of them. "Stay 'way from de assassins."

"Thanks for saving my life… twice," Warren whispered as he moved towards the door. He'd always remember Remy lying in bed, still in pain, but struggling so bravely to be strong. "Be seeing you, Cajun."

As the door closed behind Warren, Remy choked back his tears. He was through with crying. Warren didn't want him and that was something he had to accept. "Be seein' you, mon ange…"

///

"He just drove off," Jean-Luc informed his son and sat down on the bed. "I brought you breakfast."

"Not hungry." Stubbornly, Remy pushed the tray away from him. "Tell his friend dat I don' need his help. De bracelets stay on!"

Jean-Luc raised a hand and stroked Remy's auburn hair behind his ears. "Don't give up, petite."

Feeling tired and drugged Remy shrugged his shoulders. "Don' care any longer."

Jean-Luc reacted on impulse and pulled his son into a tight embrace, refusing to let go. "Why is he dis special to you?"

"Don' really know," Remy whispered the words against the back of his father's neck. "Dere's such pain in his eyes and I want him to stop hurtin'."

"Do you know who he is?" Jean-Luc pulled away, determined to address the X-Men.

Torn, Remy tried to answer that question, but the drugs made it hard to keep focused. "You goin' to tell me?"

"Do you remember de X-Men, Remy?" Jean-Luc held his breath in anticipation.

A wave of pain washed through Remy. "De X-Men… don' want to talk 'bout dem…" Memories demanded to be acknowledged, but he didn't want them. A woman's face flashed in his mind. Ice… a diamond… the tunnels… and their hate. "Please poppa… don'."

"Mebbe later," Jean-Luc gave in, just in time remembering the doctors' advice. "I won't push you. Want me to put on some music for you? It might make it easier for you to go back to sleep. I got some matters to attend to and…"

"When will tante be back?" Remy asked in a numb tone.

Jean-Luc recognized the distancing behavior, which wasn't due to the meds. Remy was slipping away from him. "Mon fils…" he started, rocking Remy. I do hope you'll be happy one day. Your entire life has been misery.

Remy ignored him, but allowed his poppa to continue to rock him. "Don' want to remember," he whispered absentmindedly, not even aware that he was speaking. "Don' want to hurt no more… Don' want to fight…"

At a loss, Jean-Luc held him, buried Remy's face against his chest and hummed softly.

"This better be good," Logan growled as he walked up to the house. Yip, that was the address Warren had given him. As he pressed the door chime he wondered what this was all about.

The door opened and Logan took in the man's bulky appearance. Probably some hired muscle. Suddenly, he had no idea what to say. Why the hell had Warren asked him to come here anyway?

"Are you monsieur Logan?"

"Yeah, I'm Logan," he said relieved. The man stepped aside and Logan walked inside. From the corner of his eye he caught the valuable Renoir at the wall. "Care to tell me why I'm here?"

"Monsieur LeBeau will join you in a moment. Please wait here…"

"Hold yer horses," Logan whispered baffled. "Did ya say LeBeau?"

"Oui."

The voice took Logan by surprise and he quickly spun around. A second man had appeared from nowhere. "And ya are?"

"Jean-Luc LeBeau. I'm Remy's father and my son needs your help."

"Yer son? Remy's alive?" Releasing a sigh Logan sunk down onto a chair. "That Cajun's got more lives than a cat!" A big, dirty grin surfaced on his face. "So Gumbo's alive…"

///

New Orleans

Both men eyed each other suspiciously. Logan had to admit that Jean-Luc LeBeau radiated confidence and authority. This man usually got what he wanted. Quite impressing. Finding himself in the study of the patriarch of the thieves' Guild had been the last thing he'd expected. Why hadn't Warren at least told him that this was about Remy? Was Warren playing games?

No, Logan dismissed that idea. Warren would always try and uphold Xavier's teachings and one of them was not to screw with a team-mate's head on purpose. He might not like Worthington but knew he could depend on the man in the heat of a fight.

"Why do ya need my help?" Logan leaned back, determined to test the waters first. His instincts warned him not to underestimate Jean-Luc LeBeau. This man was as dangerous as a cobra. It took cunning and courage to lead the thieves' Guild. And backbone, considerin' he adopted Gambit.

"First, I want to ask you some questions." Jean-Luc took his seat behind his desk, pretending to look through some papers. But he was really taking in Logan's appearance. The mutant's eyes resembled burning embers, trembling with an animalistic intensity, how intriguing! Jean-Luc tried to focus on the reports, which informants / spies in Westchester had sent him. They'd gathered quite some interesting information about the X-Men. "Your name's Logan… Wolverine and you possess claws made from adamantium?" he summarized in a controlled tone. Good thing he'd started to collect info on the X-Men when Remy had joined them. He wanted to know whom he was dealing with!

As Jean-Luc looked up from the papers their eyes met and briefly he felt electrified. Mon Dieu… he only met the man a moment ago and already felt attracted to him! Merde! He couldn't use this right now. Remy had to come first! But it has been so long since I last felt like dis… The blue eyes tore at his self-control and he summoned his iron will power to compose himself. Why am I surprised? It's been… 15 years since I took a lover…

"Inquisitive minds wanna know huh?" Unnoticed by his host, Logan locked Jean-Luc's scent away in his memory. Ya never know when ya need it! "Yeah, that's right. I got claws." He didn't know why but he allowed his claws to pop out and loved hearing the small intake of breath coming from Jean-Luc. "It's adamantium, aright." Why the hell was he trying to impress the man? Taking his time, Logan's eyes scan every inch of the Cajun's face and he reached a conclusion. The dark circles underneath Jean-Luc's eyes indicated that Jean-Luc hadn't gotten much sleep lately and although the Cajun was trying hard to hide it, the patriarch was edgy. Interesting… probably has somethin' to do with the kid.

Getting back to business, Jean-Luc said, "Warren told me dat Remy's wearing de remainders of Eric De Red's shackles. I'm not sure what dat means." Leaning back, he continued to study his guest. Canadian. His mutant power is de healin' factor. I'm still not sure what dis Weapon X is, but dey are responsible for his claws.

Logan whistled softly. He wasn't very keen on discussing Eric The Red or Antarctica, but that was probably what Jean-Luc was interested in. "Yeah, those shackles block his powers. Lemme guess… ya want me to take them off?" When he'd arrived at the mansion after his trip to Japan, he'd wanted to seek the Cajun out, play cards, smoke a cigar. He'd walked into the living room, ready to ask Cyke about the Cajun's whereabouts, when they'd reluctantly told him the truth. Actually, Rogue had done most of the talking. Rogue had sobbed her confession; that she'd never wanted to leave Gambit behind, but Remy had wanted to die and she'd given in.

He didn't buy that explanation, never had. Although he liked the girl, he knew better than to trust her. And Joseph had held her hand the entire time. No, he hadn't bought her explanation or her grief at all! Unexpectedly, Jean-Luc's voice forced him to focus on the shackles once more.

"Dat was de plan, oui," Jean-Luc clasped his hands. "But Remy doesn't want de shackles removed." He was curious to see Logan's reaction. Thus far it seemed like he could trust the X-Man, but Remy had believed that at one time as well and they'd betrayed him in the end. Unintended, Jean-Luc's eyes drifted down Logan's face, down his muscular chest and came to rest on his claws. He's dangerous… dat's why I feel attracted to him. Mon Dieu, I always loved to play with wildfire and he might burn me!

"Huh? Why doesn't he want them off? He can't use his powers while they're on." Puzzled, Logan tried to pick up Remy's scent. Yeah, the young Cajun was close. Why hadn't he smell Gambit when he'd stepped inside the house? I can't believe it! The kid's still 'live… wonder what really happened out there on the ice… maybe I'll get some answers after all. He still felt guilty for being in Japan when this had happened. I would never have allowed them to leave the place without the Cajun!

"Before I tell you…" Jean-Luc was determined not to make another mistake. He'd trusted Warren to rise to the occasion, but the X-Man had hugely disappointed him. "Do you consider Remy a friend?"

Logan answered at once. "Yeah, I do. When they didn't brin' him back from Antarctica I was pissed… big time," Logan stated in anger and got to his feet. He didn't like this small room. It made him feel like a caged animal and that made Jean-Luc his warden. Thoughtfully, Logan paced the room, realizing Jean-Luc's intentions. Before the patriarch would allow him close to his son he had to pass this test. "We've all been used before. Remy's too young to realize whom he was dealin' with." Shrugging his shoulders, Logan continued, "Sinister used him and then disposed of him," he whispered angered.

"I don't know any details." Jean-Luc nodded his head. "But answer me dis, did de X-Men betray my son? Did dey leave him dere to die?" He wanted this question answered. If they did, they'd pay for hurting his son on purpose.

"Not exactly," Logan said thoughtfully, turning around to lock eyes with the Cajun. "I wasn't there, keep that in mind. I only know what they told me."

"I'll find out de truth eventually," Jean-Luc said steadfast and gestured Logan to continue. Although he didn't want to notice it, he couldn't look passed the rippling muscle that showed underneath the Canadian's shirt. Control! he chided himself. Don't think of his tight ass! Infuriated with himself, Jean-Luc regained control over his senses. Logan was here to help his son and he had to keep this on a professional level!

"Eric The Red played all of them and I think Bets would have pulled Remy into the shadows, but… Rogue flew him out of the citadel. When she joined the rest of the team without Remy she told them that he'd died in the after match of the fight. They had no reason to doubt her words. We never thought that Rogue left him there to die!"

Slowly gaining more understanding of the situation Jean-Luc rubbed his brow. "And what's Warren's part in dis?"

"Eric The Red decided Warren should defend Remy." Logan drew in a deep breath. "Hank told me Warren did a great job until Wings found out that Remy had gathered the Marauders. You see, the Marauders badly injured his wings."

"And Sinister?" Jean-Luc rose from behind the desk, checking if the tape recorder was still on. He'd evaluate this conversation later, and then figure out what to do about this.

"Remy never told us that he worked for Sinister." Logan now stood in front of Jean-Luc, close enough to touch and inhale the intoxicating scent of the Cajun's cologne. "Only Remy knows the answer to that question." His heightened senses smelled the growing arousal in the air. There was something very primal about this situation and he loved the unexpected magnetism.

"Bien." Satisfied that Logan seemed genuinely concerned about his son, Jean-Luc decided to give Logan a chance. "There are things you need to know before you can see Remy," he stated and poured two glasses of Bourbon. He offered Logan one, who accepted with a nod of his head.

As he drowned the drink, Logan noticed the approving glance in Jean-Luc's sparkling eyes. Yeah, this will be an interestin' ride… and I'm not regrettin' drivin' up here!

Logan's quite an impressive specimen, Jean-Luc mused privately as the Bourbon burned his throat.

///

One hour later, Logan stared out of the window and at the back yard. "Gambit did that?"

Jean-Luc grinned. "De craters? Oui, wrecked de garden as well." An oddly comfortable silence sneaked into the room and Jean-Luc enjoyed his last bite of dinner. Until now he hadn't realized just how hungry he was. "You understand dat you need to be careful around him? Remy probably won't remember you."

"Explain this to me 'gain," Logan said and returned to the dinner table. Jean-Luc had told him about the amnesia, the weeks Remy had lived on the streets and had even hinted at the abuse Gambit had suffered before the LeBeau family had adopted him. "This charm?"

"He has always been able to feel what others feel… to some extent. Remy never actively used it to manipulate people, but he always wondered which feelings were his and which were an echo. With de shackles in place, he knows de things he's feeling are really his."

"I don't think it's wise to cut them 'way when he doesn't want that." Logan sat down and played with his dessert, chocolate mousse. "And I can't tell him 'bout the others? Some are really worried, even mournin' his death."

"We can do dat later," Jean-Luc said determinedly. "Are you ready?" He pushed back his chair and moved over to the doorway. "I want to do dis now before he tries anything on me."

Logan wriggled an eyebrow. "Ya don't trust him, huh?"

"I trust Remy to look out for himself. He'll do what he thinks is best for him." Jean-Luc fell into step next to his guest and noticed Logan's strong masculine scent. This sudden rush of lust surprised him and he wondered if Logan felt it as well. The Canadian's grin was too damn smug!

///

"Remy? I brought a friend…" Jean-Luc announced and opened the door without knocking.

Logan immediately searched the room. Although he knew what to expect, seeing Remy shocked him. "Shit," he mumbled barely audible. The young Cajun had been reduced to a mere shadow of his former self. Red on black eyes opened, but seemed to look right through him, not acknowledging his presence. Damn! Now I really wanna know what happened after Hank and the others left. Rogue's been lyin', why?

"You can go 'way 'gain, monsieur," Remy whispered, "Don' require your help." He hid his hands underneath the covers. "As I told poppa, dey stay on."

"Stubborn as always," Logan remarked and approached the bed.

Jean-Luc remained in the doorway. He wanted Remy and Logan to interact without him guiding the conversation. Hopefully this would sparkle Remy's memory. His eyes drifted off and he noticed that the food on the tray hadn't been touched. After Warren had left, Remy had stopped eating. Not a good sign!

"Bub… remember me?" Logan sat down on the side of the bed. The hooded expression in Remy's eyes worried him. Yeah, Jean-Luc had told him about the meds, but this felt like Remy's body's here, but no one was home. "Gumbo?"

The voice sounds familiar, but Remy didn't want to leave this dark void. Here, he didn't have to think, speak or act bravely for his poppa. Here, he could switch off and let go.

"Hey Cajun! I didn't come here to get the cold shoulder treatment!" Logan stated loudly, hoping that the sound of his voice would snap Remy out of it. It didn't really matter what he said as Remy wasn't listening anyway, but Logan kept talking. "Looks like ya used up all yer nine lives, kid."

But the voice woke something inside Remy and it flashed into life. //Kid… Gumbo….bub… sounds like… sounds like…// The man's name was on the tip of his tongue but…

"Look at me, kid," Logan cupped Remy's chin in his hand and forced him to lock eyes. "Don't tell me ya forgot these baby blues!"

Remy's eyes grew big at the sight of the man in front of him. The man smiled at him, no, make that grinned and was waiting for a response.

"Wanna play cards, Remy? But I'm not gonna play for money! I'd end up broke!"

"Cigars…" Remy whispered and cocked his head. "I know you…" but the damn meds made it hard to think rationally. He had to struggle to form a coherent thought. "Please poppa… no more meds," Remy whimpered eventually. Just saying those words drained him.

"Mebbe de dose is a little too high, oui?" Jean-Luc suggested. "We'll see. I'll call de hospital."

"Merci, poppa," Remy said relieved and grew quiet again. Unexpectedly one word echoed through the room. "Bike…"

"Bike?" Logan grinned broadly. "Yeah, that's me. Cigars, bike and…"

"Claws…" Remy ended the sentence for Logan and shivered. "He has claws too." Through the darkness of his dreams echoed a vicious growl. "Sab…"

"Don't go there, kid. Not yet." Logan eyed Remy carefully. Logan has holes in his memory too and knew how hard this was on Remy. "Concentrate on me, kid. Who am I?"

Slowly, a veil lifted from Remy's mind. It only lasted seconds, but it was enough. "Logan?"

"Yeah, ya did good, Remy!" Logan said pleased. "Hey, I'm over here!" Remy's glance grew hooded again and Logan addressed Jean-Luc. "Ya better stop feedin' him those meds. They screw with his head."

Jean-Luc had to agree. He'd expected a different result… not this! "Remy will just take de sleeping meds den."

Approvingly, Logan nodded his head. "Much better."

"Logan," Remy repeated the name again. "Wolvie?"

"Now, I told you not to call me that!" Logan smiled reassuringly. "Lemme me have a look at yer wrists, Remy."

"You want to take dem off," Remy whispered in sudden dread. "Don'."

"No, just wanna have a look at the shackles, that's it." Logan tried hard to soothe him. The Cajun looked terribly frail and lost. "I'll only take them off if you want me to."

Reluctantly, Remy sneaked his hands on top of the cover. He still wasn't sure why he knew Logan or why he felt like he could trust the man, but he did. "You're a mutant," he whispered suddenly.

"Yeah, like ya are." Logan lifted the bandaged wrist and gently examined the shackles. "I can cut through them, no problem," he informed Jean-Luc.

"Remy," Jean-Luc joined them. "Do you want Logan to remove dem?" In his heart he hoped that Remy would pull through and would say yes.

"Non." His stare was empty as Remy looked at the two men. For the first time in his life he knew what he felt. He didn't want their feelings screwing with his head. "Don' want my powers."

Jean-Luc was about to try one more time, when Logan shook his head. "Give him time, LeBeau." He remembered waking up with those claws, not knowing how he'd got them and wishing they'd go away.

"Bien," Jean-Luc sighed the word, afraid that his son made a mistake, but backing him up anyway.

Pleased, Logan allowed his fingers to trail Remy's. "You once broke your thumb." He felt the little knot underneath the Cajun's skin.

"When Remy was training to become a thief he had to break into my house and bypass de security system… He broke his thumb in de process," Jean-Luc explained fondly.

"Mais I passed de test," Remy stated unexpectedly, surprising both men.

"Oui, you did," Jean-Luc confirmed. "And my security system is de best."

Remy smiled as well, but his growing fatigue made it even harder to speak. "Sleepy," he whispered eventually as his eyelids closed.

"Get some sleep, kid. We'll talk later," Logan whispered and awkwardly he patted the young Cajun's shoulder. "Who's gonna sit with him?" he asked, shooting Jean-Luc a knowing look. "We can't leave him 'lone."

"I need to take care of Guild matters," Jean-Luc said in a heavy tone. "I will relieve you in… let's say 6 hours?"

"Fine with me." Logan sank onto the armchair and rested his feet on the side of the bed.

Merci. Jean-Luc was greatly relieved to learn that Logan wasn't shying away from pulling his weight. If only the Guild didn't demand so much of his time and attention! But it'd always been this way. Even before Remy had come into his life, the Guild had come first and ashamed he had to admit that it still came first. Remy should be my prime concern! Not de Guild! Dat's been de problem all along. And for the first time in his long life, he considered stepping down as patriarch.

///

Westchester

As the plane approached the private airstrip near Westchester, Warren softly banged his fist against his seat. He couldn't get that lost look in Remy's eyes out of his mind. Again, he convinced himself that this was for their best. "I don't love him," he whispered beaten. "I love Bets and I'm going to call her the moment we're at the mansion."

The plane touched down and from his window seat he noticed the car. So Bobby had really driven up here? That didn't surprise him. Bobby's had always been there for him. They shared a close friendship, although Warren didn't understand why Drake liked to hang out with him. They didn't have that much in common…

As the door opened, he slowly descended the stairs. Bobby waved at him, a huge smile on his face. Warren forced himself to return that smile. He didn't want Bobby to realize that something was wrong.

But Bobby already had. Dark circles disfigured Warren's eyes and his elegant stride was gone. Warren slouched and Bobby quickly walked towards his friend. Something was very wrong and Bobby was thankful that Warren had given him a call instead of just bottling everything up inside. Bobby shivered, remembering the attacks of anger and rage that sometimes appeared without any apparent reason.

"Bobby." Warren extended his hand.

"Warren, buddy!" Bobby couldn't help himself, but pulled his friend into an embrace. "What?" he asked as Warren flinched.

"Got shot in the back a few days ago," he explained. "It's still healing."

"What happened?" Bobby grabbed the brief case Warren was carrying and threw it onto the back seat. "Get into the car… Scott and Jean told me to hurry so we're still on time for dinner."

Warren slide onto his seat and rested his head against the support. Hearing Bobby's voice reassured him. He was back in Westchester and Remy was still in New Orleans. But the Cajun kept haunting his thoughts.

"Are you gonna stay for a while?" Bobby inquired softly. He knew better than to push Warren. "Betsy called as well. She'll arrive tomorrow." Bobby peeked at his friend's face. No reaction. "You still together?"

"I want to get back with her," Warren said eventually. "I still love her."

"Knew there was a reason why you're looking like this."

"Like what?" Warren cocked his head. "Like what, Bobby?"

"Like shit," Bobby said apologetically. "How did you get shot?" Quickly, he changed the subject, realizing he was treading on thin ice.

"It's a long story, Bobby and I'm tired… Maybe later?" Warren avoided answering the question. Explaining about the sniper attack meant bringing up Remy.

"Jean and I cleaned up your old room yesterday. You wouldn't believe how much dust accumulates in a few months!" He tried hard not to touch any topics that might upset Warren. Geeze, he'd never seen Warren look this bad! And it wasn't only Warren's physical appearance. There was a lost expression in his eyes.

Uncertain why, Warren asked, "How's Rogue?" He couldn't help but wonder about her motives to tell them that Remy had died.

"Joseph and Rogue appear happy. She even asked the professor if they could move into the boathouse to have some privacy. Hey, I can understand that. Joseph can touch her and they'll want to get more intimate."

As they picked up speed, Warren stared out of the window. "Bobby, do you ever wonder what happened to Gambit?"

Bobby never expected that one! Nervously, he licked his lips. "He's dead, Warren."

"Does Rogue mourn his death?" Damn! Why was he talking about the Cajun? He'd left New Orleans to get away from him!

A pensive look appeared in Bobby's eyes. "Not really…" Now that he was thinking about it, he found that odd. "She said that she wanted to end their relationship anyway."

"Who's at the mansion?" Warren asked, hoping the place wasn't crowded.

"Scott and Jean of course. The professor and Hank are on Muir Island to help Moira with some research… We'll have to organize a Twinkie run, Warren. I need a new supply."

"Rogue and Joseph?" An unhealthy anger built in the pit of his stomach.

"They're in the boathouse so they aren't around much. Only for breakfast and dinner. And Storm's around too." Bobby wondered about this sudden interest in Rogue. "Logan took off without any explanation. Don't know when he'll be back."

"And what about you, Bobby?" Warren smiled at his friend. "Got a boyfriend yet?" Bobby actually blushed and Warren shook his head in disbelief. "You would tell me, wouldn't you? Your best friend?"

Bobby decided to play along. "Actually, Hank's my best friend! You're away all the time!"

"But I can get you Twinkies!" Warren baited him.

"Warren," Bobby said shyly. It'd taken him so long to come to terms with this that he still had trouble talking about it. "Maybe," he stated teasingly. "I saw him while I was getting groceries. He's tall, has black hair and cat-like green eyes. I think I'm in love!"

"Ah, that's why you want to get Twinkies… you're hoping to meet him again!" It was the strangest thing, but Bobby being gay had never bothered Warren. It was part of Drake's personality and Warren accepted his friend the way he was.

Why can't you do the same when it comes down to your feelings? His conscience broke its silence.

Annoyed, Warren turned on the music, which earned him a questioning look from Bobby. Because I'm not bi! Warren thought determinedly. I only like women!

"I know a nice little restaurant if you want to take Betsy out for dinner." Bobby wasn't sure what to make of his friend's behavior. The changes in Warren's mood were sudden and unpredictable.

"Sure, give me the address." Warren tried to sound calm and in control, but inwardly his emotions raged to new heights.

///

As they drove up to the mansion, Scott and Jean were already waiting for him. Somehow, Warren suddenly felt out of place, like he shouldn't be here, didn't deserve to be here. Maybe, coming here had been wrong.

Part 14

Westchester

Mentally exhausted, Warren dropped onto his bed and listened to Bobby's soft hypnotic voice. He was glad dinner was over. Scott and Jean had been perfectly polite, but Jean's eyes had revealed worry. Was it that obvious? Warren wondered intrigued. He thought he'd been hiding it pretty good!

"You're gonna call Bets?" Bobby sat down on the bed and fell backwards, next to Warren. "I can call the restaurant and book a table for the two of you."

Why am I stalling? Warren nodded his head. "Yes, give me the phone. I'll call her now."

Bobby doubted this was a good idea. He'd never liked Bets and had been secretly relieved to hear that they'd broken up. He'd made sure that Warren had never noticed his dislike, always acting casually around Betsy, but after she'd gained the shadow walking ability he'd really avoided her. "You want some privacy?" Bobby asked, ready to leave the room.

"No, this will only take a moment." Warren dialed Betsy's phone number.

Feeling uncomfortable, Bobby stared at the ceiling, creating small ice figures with his fingertips. "Look, it's a bunny!" he said and grinned at Warren.

Warren shook his head. 'Doesn't even come close to a bunny!"

Bobby pretended being hurt, but was already busy creating another small sculpture. "Maybe she can't come to the phone?" Bobby suggested after a while. Why was Warren this determined to get Bets back? As far as he was concerned his friend was a lot better off without Miss Arrogance!

Warren was about to give up when Betsy unexpectedly answered the call. "Bets? It's me, Warren…" Suddenly, he grew quiet, hearing soft panting in the background. "Am I interrupting your workout?"

"Warren?" Betsy said annoyed. "Do the X-Men need help?"

"No," Warren replied thoughtfully. Betsy was talking and yet he still heard the panting. "I'm in Westchester and Bobby told me that you'll arrive here tomorrow too, so I thought maybe we can go out and have dinner?"

"Why didn't you change your phone number?" a female voice hissed through the line.

Warren grew rigid. "Bets? Who's there with you?"

"Warren, I don't owe you an explanation! We're no longer together! It's time you move on and stop calling me. I've got my own life to get back on tracks. Take Bobby for a flight or something!"

Her sharp tone surprised Warren and he didn't really know what to say. Bobby stared at him, probably picking words up, as Bets talked loud enough. "Bets, it doesn't have to be this way. Please! Let's have dinner and talk things over? I really need you!"

An amused laugh rang through the phone. "But I don't need you, Warren. Can't you get that into your thick skull?" Bets paused briefly. "You're no longer the man I fell in love with, Warren. You've changed and I don't like the loser you've become, always complaining about what Apocalypse did to you. Don't you understand? I need someone who goes all the way, stops at nothing and you… you're just a big kid! Like Drake… no wonder the two of you get along that great!"

Dumbfounded, Warren opened his mouth to defend Bobby, but Bets had already hung up on him. Bets had gotten more vicious towards the end of their relationship, but this outburst had been unexpected.

"Hey buddy," Bobby sat up and wondered if Warren would accept his comfort. Probably not. "You gonna tell me what this is all about?"

Warren flung the phone onto the bed, jumped to his feet and paced the room. "She doesn't want me…"

"Warren, Betsy doesn't need anyone. You've got to face that." Bobby sat cross-legged and studied his friend. "But is this really about Bets? You didn't try very hard to convince her."

That halted Warren in his tracks. Turning around he looked straight into Bobby's compassionate eyes. Suddenly, he knew why he came here. "Can we talk, Bobby? I don't want anyone else to know, just you. You've got to promise me that this will remain between the two of us!"

Eagerly, Bobby nodded his head. "I'm your friend, Warren. You know that. I won't betray your trust. C'mon, sit down and tell uncle Bobby what's eating you!" Bobby patted the space next to him and waited for Warren to make his decision.

Reluctantly, Warren sat down. He didn't know where to start. "Remember when I asked you if you were gay?"

"Yeah," Bobby grinned. "I just got back from this terribly date with Glenda and felt quite miserable because I couldn't get it up…"

"Bobby!" Warren exclaimed with a smug grin. "I don’t need to know all details."

"Sorry, but it made you laugh, didn't it?" Bobby observed the nervousness in Warren's expression and didn't feel that confident any longer. Shit, was this about him being gay? Hadn't Warren accepted that?

"Yes, it did," Warren admitted in a guilty tone. "How did you know that you liked men?"

Bobby's eyes grew big. What kinda question was that? "Warren?"

"Just tell me!" Warren shifted on the bed until his back rested against the headboard. Asking Bobby such questions felt like infringing on his friend's privacy, but Bobby was the only one he could trust. The only one who could understand his doubts.

"Okay," Bobby whispered reluctantly. "Every time I was with a girl I wanted to be with a man. I wondered what it felt like to feel a man's firm body underneath my fingertips and that thought aroused me. You know that. My dates with girls never worked out, because they don't turn me on. I even started to collect Playgirl, to look at the pics…" A smile brightened his face. "And you found those mags… and you made me talk about my feelings… Why you wanna know all this?" Bobby moved closer to Warren until they sat next to each other. "You helped me admit this to myself. You know that I was living a lie."

Warren crossed his arms, uncertain what to tell Bobby and what to keep a secret. "There's this man," he said eventually and heard Bobby's sharp intake of breath. "I can't get him out of my head."

"A man…" Bobby repeated thoughtfully. "That's it? You're in love with a man? And it's freaking you out?" Yeah, that would certainly explain Warren's odd behavior. "And now you're trying hard to convince yourself that you still love Bets and that you can't possibly have feelings for a guy?"

Stubbornly, Warren nodded his head. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw red on black ones, looking up at him pleadingly, filled with love and unspoken promises.

"Warren," Bobby cocked his head and locked eyes with him. "I'm gonna give you the same speech you gave me about a year ago. It's okay to feel this way. You're not doing anything forbidden because you're in love with a man and God won't strike you down for it. If it's about love, don't fight it. True love is so damn rare, don't you dare throw it away."

"You don't understand, Bobby." Warren licked his lips, desperately wanting to flee those eyes, but Bobby wouldn't let go. "My dad always told me how important it is to find the right lady and eventually settle down and have kids. I need someone to follow in my footsteps, to lead the Worthington Empire."

"I see," Bobby mumbled. "You feel like you're betraying your dad. Warren, you're father's dead. You can't live his dreams or ideals. You've got to be happy with your life."

"But I can't accept this," Warren objected. "It goes against nature!"

"Thanks!" Bobby exclaimed exasperated. "I'm not going to hold that against you, as you're obviously confused as hell, but Warren… Damn! I don't understand why it's okay for me to date a man and you…"

"Bobby, I never thought I was bi! I loved women my entire life. I can't imagine being with a man! Just thinking about anal intercourse makes me sick!"

This time Bobby burst out laughing. "Man, you're totally screwed up. Do you really think that all two men do is fuck?"

"I don't know," Warren whimpered softly. "Can't believe we're really having this conversation!"

Bobby slapped his knees, still too amused to take Warren's last admission too seriously. "A lot of guys don't have intercourse because it hurts too much. Warren, there's a lot more to a gay relationship than fucking a man! And there are certainly other ways to reach orgasm… Geeze, Warren!"

"I don't know what to do with these feelings, Bobby," Warren admitted shaken.

Growing serious again, Bobby smiled reassuringly. "You're in love with this guy?"

"I think so… Can't forget about him. When I close my eyes, he's there… even had an erotic dream about him." Warren sighed deeply. "With a woman it's easy. You know what you're supposed to do, what she expects from the relationship but…"

"Yeah, that can be frightening," Bobby admitted. "In a relationship between two men you've got to discover the rules yourself. There are no role models. You've got to make things work through commitment and understanding. That demands a lot of dedication… does that scare you?"

"Suppose so." Warren now felt totally clueless.

"And this man… does he feel the same way about you?" Bobby was getting curious. Who was the mystery man who'd turned Warren -Mr.super heterosexual- on? He knew for sure that Warren had never considered building a relationship with a man. This must have turned his world upside down.

"I think so…" Warren remembered the expression in Remy's eyes, his plea to stay a little longer.

"And you haven't told him yet how you feel about him?" Bobby nodded his head. Trust Warren to turn this into a total mess!

"No… Bobby, can I ask you something personal?"

"We've been talking about personal matters the entire time!" Bobby teasingly pointed out to Warren. "Go ahead."

"You think I should give this a try?" Warren briefly avoided Bobby's eyes, which sparkled with mischief. They reminded him too much of Remy's.

"A try?" Bobby said disapprovingly. "No, don't give it a try. Commit yourself to him or walk away from this. This isn't a game, Warren. You'll hurt his feelings. Don't play with him."

"I need to think about this," Warren sighed.

"Okay," Bobby knew what his friend was going through. Warren needed time to accept this. "I'm going to the grocery store to get some Twinkies… Wanna tag along?"

"Sure, why not… maybe we'll run into your mystery man."

///

New Orleans

"Remy, you need to eat something!" Jean-Luc sighed discouraged. "You didn't eat dinner or breakfast, please do it for your poppa?"

Logan watched the exchange intensely. Remy's behavior worried him as well. During the 6 hours that he'd sat with the young Cajun, nightmares had disturbed Remy's dreams. In his sleep Remy had beseeched him to take away the cold and the dark eyes glaring at him from the tunnels. The pleading had stopped when he'd taken Remy into his arms and Jean-Luc had found them like that. "Yeah, kid, ya need to eat." It'd take Remy a long time to recover and Logan wasn't sure the kid had the strength or will power left to fight. Logan didn't know the Cajun like this. Remy wasn't a quitter so what had caused this change? Just the amnesia?

Judging from Jean-Luc's hints something else had happened, something that had to do with Worthington. The patriarch seemed very disappointed that Warren had left so quickly. Warren… Wings had sounded distressed at the phone, almost in a panic…

"Maybe Remy just wants us to stop naggin'?" Logan said affectionately and patted Remy's cold hand. "Do ya want some privacy, kid?"

"Oui," Remy stuttered, relieved that the meds were losing their effect. At least now he could think a little clearer.

"Remember your promise, Remy. Stay in bed! We'll move to de den and leave de doors open. I can watch you from dere!" Jean-Luc stroked his son's hair out of his eyes. "I know you want me close in case you need me."

He knows me so well! Remy thinks thankfully. Oui, he wants to be alone, but also needs his poppa near. "Before you leave," he started… "Did you hear from Warren?"

"Non, I'm so sorry, petite," Jean-Luc leaned in closer and caressed his son's brow. "Don't expect him to come back to you, my son."

Logan's eyes widened a little at hearing that. "You want Wings back? That's it? Why?"

Jean-Luc exchanged a glance with his son. Remy wouldn't mind. "My son's in love with him."

Remy blushed hearing it phrased like that. "I know dat's foolish… Mais I can' deny de way I feel. You see, dis is de first time dat I know I really like someone in dat way. It's not his feelings dat make me t'ink like dat and my feelings…"

"Hold yer horses, kid. Slow down." Remy's babbling didn't make much sense, but… "You do know Wings ain't interested in men?" He hated doing this to Remy, but it was best to confront this head on. "Ya'll only end up hurt, bub."

"I already told Remy," Jean-Luc interrupted. "But he needs time to work through dis."

///

After they moved into the den, Jean-Luc picked a seat that allowed him to keep an eye on his son. Doors open, he could see Remy lying in his bed. There was a smug grin on his son's face. "He's acting tough, but…"

"Bad choice to fall in love with Wings," Logan growled. "Didn't know Remy was bi." Sitting down opposite Jean-Luc he closely watched the man's body language. "Yer comfortable with that?" Guess his answer will also tell me where we stand.

"Bi, gay, heterosexual, dose are only words… futile attempts to classify passion." Jean-Luc glanced at Remy, who'd picked up pen and paper and was writing. "It's a shame dat people don't see Remy for who he really is. He has so much to give and all he gets in return is pain."

Logan rose from his chair and pushed the door ajar so Remy couldn't watch them. Predatory, he sneaked up on Jean-Luc and placed his hands on either side of the armrest. "And what about ya?" Jean-Luc's pupils dilated and a sharp expression appeared in them. I ain't the only predator in the room. "Ya want this?" and Logan leaned in closer to roughly claim and bruise the Cajun's lips. "Lemme in…"

Jean-Luc brought up one arm and quickly wrapped it around Logan's throat, almost cutting off his air supply. "Sit down!"

But Logan didn't move and gave Jean-Luc a dirty grin. "Wanna fight?" Yeah, he'd figured out Jean-Luc LeBeau.

"Mebbe," Jean-Luc admitted. "But let me make dis clear. I won't allow dis attraction to hurt Remy."

"Stop worryin' about the kid. Remy's a lot stronger than ya give him credit for." Logan twisted Jean-Luc's arm and was now in control. "We're both adults and we know what this is about."

"Lust," Jean-Luc agreed. With a quick move, he freed his arm and grabbed Logan's neck. "Dis isn't for forever."

"Yeah, I know that." Logan eyed him appreciately. "We're both old enough to realize that, Cajun."

Jean-Luc released the Canadian and twisted away from him as he rose from his chair. "Come to my room later dis eve. I want to sit with Remy first."

"Anything ya want me to bring 'long?" Logan said wickedly. "Like hand cuffs or…"

Jean-Luc laughed, amused. "I'm sure we'll find a way to pass de time. And make sure no one sees you!"

Logan leaned against the wall. "Wasn't wrong about ya after all!" he mumbled pleased once Jean-Luc had left the room. Damn! It'd been too long since he'd found someone who could stand up to him. Jean-Luc wouldn't take any crap from him and would probably want to dominate the relationship. "Well, he's used to bein' in charge… he might be in for a surprise though!" he quipped privately.

///

"What are you doing, Remy?" Jean-Luc stopped himself from peeking at his son's writing. Color had returned to the young man's face, but he still looked too fragile. Worried, Jean-Luc straddled a chair.

"Writin'," Remy replied with a sigh. "Remembered somethin' new today," he admitted shakily.

Instinctively, Jean-Luc knew it was something that had caused Remy pain. "What is it, mon fils?"

"My fight with Julien… you exiled me from N'arlings… I made a mistake comin' back here." His eyes locked with his father's. "Never wanted to kill him."

"I know dat, son." Jean-Luc took hold of Remy's left hand and rubbed it soothingly. "I should never have exiled you, Remy. My mistake."

"When I remembered dat," Remy started in a trembling tone, "I felt lost. You're all I have, poppa. I don' want to leave N'Awlings. I feel safe here." He knew Jean-Luc hadn't had a choice and had to banish him from New Orleans, but… "I can' stay here much longer, oui?" He didn't know where to go, whom to turn to. Warren could have taken him away from here. He would have allowed Angel to take control of their situation, but Warren had left.

"Non!" Jean-Luc exploded. "You'll stay here as long as necessary for you to heal! Damn de assassins and de thieves! I will defy dem!"

"Poppa, don'… I ain' worth it," Remy whispered softly. "Know how important de Guild is to you."

"It's my curse," Jean-Luc corrected Remy, "and you're my blessing." Unshed tears showed in his son's eyes and Jean-Luc felt like a coward. Maybe he should step down as patriarch! "Can I read it?" Jean-Luc asked hesitantly and pointed at the paper.

"It ain' finished," Remy whispered. "And it's my first poem… You can read it when I've finished…"

"Hey, got something to eat for you, kid and trust me, you're gonna eat it!" Logan strode into the room, carrying a tray.

The interruption briefly annoyed Jean-Luc, but he quickly realized that Logan was acting out of concern for Remy. "What did you bring?"

"Pizza! Cajun used to steal my slices when I wasn't lookin'!" he said teasingly and put the tray on the bed. "Just a few bites, Gumbo. It has extra cheese!"

Remy stared at both men and realized he wouldn't get away with being stubborn. They'd find a way to make him comply and secretly, he loved them for it. He needed someone to kick his ass, as he was too damn eager to give up. "Just a few bites den."

Pleased, Logan gave Jean-Luc a wink. "Yer not the only one who knows how to play him!"

An hour later, Jean-Luc managed to convince Remy to take the sleeping meds. "I'll be close," he promised. "You're safe here, Remy. Or do you want me to sit with you through de night?" He'd cancel his 'date' with Logan if Remy needed him. Logan would accept that decision without making a fuss about it. Logan knew how important Remy was to him.

"Poppa? You need sleep too," Remy said with some of his old mischief in his voice. The sleeping meds were already luring him asleep, but there was one more thing he had to say, "Je t'aime, poppa."

Saddened and ashamed, Jean-Luc shook his head as Remy fell asleep. "Don' deserve your love, Remy. Not after de hurt I caused you."

///

Westchester

As they walked into the grocery store, Bobby's eyes immediately searched the place. His heart missed a beat when he found the subject of his desire behind the counter. "Geeze, he works here?"

Warren couldn't help but smile. "That's the guy?"

"Yeah," Bobby sighed blissfully. Only then he realized what his secret love might think, seeing him in here with Warren. "Warren!" he yelped and shoved him away. "Pretend you don't know me!"

Warren's laugh turned into a grin. "You're scared he thinks we're together?"

"Yes!" Bobby exclaimed helplessly, as his love glances in his love's direction. "Please, Warren! This is my chance. I'll get the Twinkies…"

"And you'll pay for them!" Warren quipped. "Let me guess, you want me to wait in the car?"

"Would you do that for me? Pretty please?" Bobby wasn't too proud to beg!

Warren was tempted to give in, but his curiosity won. "I'll see you in the car… later…" he quipped and marched towards the counter.

"Don't!" Bobby whispered helplessly. "You're gonna ruin everything!"

But Warren pretended he was reading a magazine and watched Bobby's hesitantly approach. He really wanted to know how Bobby was going to handle this! It was a pity that he couldn't hear them talk, but Bobby obviously managed to raise the dark haired man's interest. Well, man… young man… he can't be much older than Bobby.

As Bobby paid for the Twinkies, Warren clearly noticed that their hands touched a little longer than strict necessary when handling the money. He put the magazine away and followed Bobby out of the store. "Looks like you might get lucky," he quipped teasingly and slide onto his seat. "What did you talk about?"

Bobby sat next to him with a stupid grin on his face. "Hey, Bobby? Earth calling Bobby?" He waved his hand in front of his friend's face and that seemed to bring Bobby out of his trance.

"We're gonna have coffee together tomorrow."

"That's it? By the way you were grinning I thought…" Yeah, what had he been thinking? That Bobby would jump the guy? Slowly, he started to understand his mistake. "Bobby?"

Seeing dawning realization on Warren's face Bobby nodded his head encouragingly. "Yeah?"

"It's not about sex, isn't it?"

"You're learning!" Bobby praised him teasingly. "I want to get to know him, not screw him! Well, maybe later down the road," he added with a grin on his face. "Do you already know what you're going to do about your love?" he inquired as he started the car. His secret love, no longer really secret, waved and Bobby waved back. "Coffee at 1800," he repeated nervously. "Maybe we can catch a movie later?"

"My love?" Warren repeated puzzled. "My love?"

"You still haven't told me his name," Bobby pointed out to Warren, biting into a Twinkie. Bobby decided to go first. Maybe then Warren would open up to him. "His name is Nicolas," he informed Warren, whose flabbergasted expression made him laugh. "The guy behind the counter? Remember him?"

Warren smiled weakly and remembers Bobby's question. Yes, what was he going to do about his love? Remy LeBeau… thief of hearts… "Bobby… Hope you don't think I'm bailing out on you, but I've got to leave tomorrow morning."

"You made your decision? You're going back to tell him?" Fascinated by this development Bobby devoured another Twinkie. As he offered Warren one, his friend declined. "Are you getting lovesick as well?"

"Actually, I feel like a bastard… I ran out on him when he needed me," Warren confessed in an unguarded moment. "He's injured."

Bobby digested the news… and another Twinkie. "I'll drive you after breakfast. Warren? Promise me one thing?"

Curiously, Warren nodded his head. "And what's that?"

"Don't bolt at the first sight of trouble in this relationship? I know you, Warren. Make this commitment or…"

"I'm ready to commit to him… I think," Warren whispered nervously. "But I'm not sure he'll forgive me for running away like that."

"There's only one way to find out, Warren. Tell him. Tell him that you love him." Bobby smiled relieved. "And don't jump him!"

"Drake!" Warren exclaimed and jokingly, elbowed his friend in the side. "Thanks…" he whispered in a more serious tone.

"You're welcome … now, can I have your credit card to go shopping?"

"Don't push it," Warren warned him. "I'll put a limit on it!" Feeling relieved and liberated, he leaned into the seat and watched the stars that brightened the evening sky. Tomorrow, I'll go back to New Orleans… and ask Remy if he still wants me. Part of him couldn't believe he'd made that decision. Yes, maybe I can love you, Remy.

Part 15

New Orleans

Jean-Luc sighed blissfully, as warm beams of water cascaded down his body. The shower drained all tension from his body; tension that had started to build the minute he'd heard that Remy had returned to New Orleans. "When will it stop?" He bowed his head in defeat. The warm water dripped from his head onto his shoulders and quickly made its way down the rest of his body. "Why can't you leave him alone?" The Antiquary once more haunted Remy and that angered Jean-Luc him. "I should never have carried out de order to steal de baby…" But he'd obeyed and had handed a helpless baby over to the Antiquary.

He wished that he could stop thinking about his son's pain and his own guilt for just the briefest moment, to just let go. But that was a luxury he couldn't afford, being the patriarch of the thieves' Guild! If only his power and influence had been this strong 24 years ago, then he could have defied the Antiquary. But back then his hands had been tied.

Noise coming from his bedroom broke his musings. Someone had just entered his private rooms! Listening to the footfalls he quickly realized that it wasn't Remy. Who else would venture in here…?

"Yer 'round, Cajun?" Logan already knew the answer, but considered it only good manners to let Jean-Luc know he'd arrived. " So, yer in the shower?" he asked with a dirty smile on his face. Might as well join him!

Jean-Luc grinned through several droplets of water, which slid down his face. "You’re early!" But this was what he needed. He needed this diversion, this attraction. Needed to let go and just focus on someone else for a short while. It'd help him concentrate on Remy's problems later if he had an outlet for his own frustrations and emotions!

Logan's grin grew diabolical as he slipped out of his shirt and jeans. Cajun's in for a surprise! He recalled the fragrance of Jean-Luc's spicy cologne and his body reacted subconsciously to the scent. His cock was already semi-erect, but started to throb when he thought of the deliciously vicious things he could do to Jean-Luc.

Jean-Luc wasn't surprised when the cabin door opened. He'd already expected Logan to join him. "We're too old for modesty," he whispered softly and caught glimpses of Logan's naked body. The man was even more muscular than he'd originally thought! He loved the refined muscle tone. Logan was a little shorter, but Jean-Luc would never make the mistake of underestimating the Canadian. "Getting impatient?"

"Yeah," Logan mumbled and cocked his head to take in Jean-Luc's well-trained body. Jean-Luc didn't have any chest hair, but Logan raised an eyebrow at the sight of the Cajun's impressive cock. "It's been a while? " he asked teasingly. It boosted his self-esteem, knowing that he could turn this man on by mere sight.

Jean-Luc returned the grin. "Are you going to close dat door? It's getting chilly in here!" Temptingly, he turned his back on Logan and continued to wash his hair. He'd let Logan make the first move.

"Ya got a sweet ass, Cajun!" Unable to resist any longer, Logan took a step closer and curled his fingers around his cock, luxuriously stroking himself. He planned on coming once before burying himself in that warm body, that way he'd last longer!

"Not letting you near my ass!" Jean-Luc whispered seductively.

"We'll see, Cajun!" Accepting the challenge, Logan lunged forward, eager to spoon himself into the body in front of him. Surprised, he froze when Jean-Luc let him. "What? Ya no longer interested in fightin'?" But damn! That tight ass was now pushing against his groin and he could hardly stop himself from guiding his cock into the Cajun's body.

Jean-Luc chuckled. Luring your 'opponent' in to safety first was an old tactic. He refrained from talking, as he needed his entire concentration.

Logan's breath caught as the Cajun seemed to go down onto his knees, but then Jean-Luc swirled around, grabbing his left wrist in a tight lock. The Cajun completed his move and suddenly, their roles had been reversed. A hard cock teased against Logan's ass.

Jean-Luc's dirty grin spoke of admiration. "You're perfect…" It was the first time that he'd met someone who was his equal in strength and cunning. One mistake and Logan would try to take charge of the situation. The hint of danger aroused Jean-Luc even more. "I'll try to be careful," he whispered into the Canadian's ear, "but as you said, it's been a while."

Logan hissed his frustration as the Cajun pushed his face into the tiles. He tried to break free from the wristlock, but moving about only increased the discomfort. "No way yer gonna fuck me!"

Jean-Luc growled deeply. "You're used to being on top, non? Just like me… But dis time you're not going to win. Oui, try and struggle, it'll only make it more difficult for you to get out of dis lock." With his free hand he slapped Logan's buttocks hard.

Growling dangerously, Logan refused to surrender just yet. "Wanna fuck ya!"

"Mebbe I'll let you… later," Jean-Luc stated and took a deep breath. Using all his strength he pushed Logan's chest against the tiled wall. "Giving in so easily? What a disappointment!"

"Not ready with ya yet, Cajun!" Unexpectedly, Logan dropped to his knees, taking Jean-Luc with him. Two can play this game!

Jean-Luc allowed himself to follow Logan down, never releasing the hold he had on Logan's wrist. He couldn't help but admire the subtle play of muscles on Logan's back. But he was determined to claim the Canadian. He refused to submit first.

"Damn!" Logan growled infuriated. His action hadn't helped much. Suddenly, Jean-Luc pulled his hair and the Cajun slammed him face first into the cabin floor. All the while his cock was growing harder from arousal. Sex and violence… a deadly combination that he'd wanted his entire life, but had never found. He shivered as the Cajun straddled his lower back. Can't believe I'm lettin' him do this! Never let someone fuck me! I'm always the one doin' the takin' but this time… Logan tried to throw Jean-Luc off, but fails. A quiver of anticipation moved through his body.

Jean-Luc sensed the submission, but never released the hold he had on the Canadian. Like a caged animal Logan would try to break free. "Did you bring de hand cuffs?" he asked teasingly. Leaning forward, he placed his full weight on Logan, who was on the floor. While moaning his pleasure, Jean-Luc's hand trialed down the muscular back. Sensually, he kneaded Logan's firm buttocks.

"Be careful, Cajun. Haven't done this before," Logan tried hard not to sound embarrassed. The prospect of getting fucked scared and aroused the hell out of him at the same time. His cock leaked pre-ejaculate and he managed to bring down one hand to stroke himself.

Nodding his head, Jean-Luc looked around and finally grabbed the hair conditioner. "Condom?"

"Forget 'bout it…" Logan mumbled lost as cold fingers slid down his cleft. His healing factor would take of that.

Jean-Luc poured some conditioner on his right hand and rubbed his fingers. "You're ready for dis?"

"Doubt I'll ever be ready for this! I'm gonna make ya pay!"

"Talk's cheap," Jean-Luc countered and parted the Canadian's buttocks. "What do you want? Hard and fast? Or a slow fuck?" Oh, how he'd missed talking dirty!

"Yer gettin' off on this?" Logan growled. His stomach contracted as one slithery finger teased against his virgin entrance. "Considerin' it's my first time… yo better not screw up!"

Jean-Luc saw through the pretence and slowed down a little. "Just relax, Logan… it doesn't have to hurt."

"But we want it to hurt," Logan mocked him.

"Mebbe just a little…" Jean-Luc admitted and looked down at the man beneath him. "Oui?" he asked, making sure he's got Logan's permission. As much as he enjoyed their little fight he wouldn't just take what he wanted.

"Damn ya, Cajun, just fuck me so I can take my revenge on yer sweet ass!" Logan immediately regretted his boldness as a finger sharply pushed inside. A low, guttural growl escaped his lips. "And that's just one fuckin' finger!" he reminded himself.

"You'll get used to it," Jean-Luc quipped and leaned down to lick the sweat of Logan's back, his finger probing deeper, as deep as he could. His finger lightly stroked the prostate and the Canadian bucked. "Easy," Jean-Luc whispered soothingly. "Dis is only de beginning!"

"Yer killing me!" It infuriated Logan that Jean-Luc hardly afforded him any space. He could stroke his cock, but… damn! He needed more stimulation.

"I wanted to take you unprepared…" Jean-Luc whispered into Logan's right ear, "But now dat you admitted to bein' a virgin…"

"Damn ya, just fuck me, Cajun!" Logan's eyes grew big as a second finger joined the first, stretching him just a little more. "Lemme fist myself!"

"Non," Jean-Luc decided. "Want you to suffer…" As Jean-Luc looked down, he forgot to breathe momentarily. The sight of his fingers disappearing into the Canadian's body nearly made him come. He wanted to take this man, half human, half animal so badly and fuck him viciously. "Not yet…"

Pushing back of his own free will, Logan tried to take in more of Jean-Luc's fingers. "Gimme me another one!"

"Three?" Jean-Luc whispered amused. "Why not four?"

Logan howled as the pain/pleasure melted into his mind. "Four?" he panted heavily. "Lemme get onto my knees…"

Jean-Luc considered the request. 'Oui," he decided and briefly withdrew his fingers to give his partner a chance to get onto his knees. Quickly, he coated his aching cock with conditioner and grabbed Logan's hips. "It's going to be a slow fuck… hope you approve."

Head reeling, Logan was hardly able to respond. He pushed his hands into the floor and shivered as Jean-Luc spread his legs a little further apart. "Can't take this much longer," Logan admitted shakily. "Stop teasin' me!"

Satisfied with Logan's reaction, Jean-Luc moved into position and guided his cock into Logan's entrance, which was hot and slippery. "Get ready," he warned his partner and then pushed inside.

"Shit!" Logan hissed in surprise. "Yer fuckin' huge, Cajun!" His knees trembled and he wasn't sure he could go through with this. The pain was excruciating, but at the same time rapture built in his stomach. "Just give me a sec to…"

"Non," Jean-Luc thrust deeper, finally sheathing himself completely in Logan's hot body. Countless muscles contracted around his cock and briefly he feared coming right there and then. "Breathe regularly!" he instructed.

Logan lowered himself onto his elbows, trying to find a more comfortable position, never expecting Jean-Luc to choose that moment to start thrusting.

"Mon Dieu!" Jean-Luc exclaimed as he slid in even deeper. "You're good at this, Logan… Now, I'm going to fill your ass with my come…"

Infuriated, Logan tried to throw his rider off, but Jean-Luc punished each attempt with a vicious thrust. Suddenly, black spots appeared in front of Logan's eyes, followed by a bright explosion as his partner's cock stroked his prostate again. This time the feeling was so intense that Logan couldn't help pushing back. Cold sweat covered his body, but Logan cocked his head to look at the Cajun kneeling behind him. Jean-Luc's damp hair clung to the Cajun's face and his partner's eyes had turned dark. The sly smile was still there.

Reaching forward, Jean-Luc roughly grabbed Logan's cock, which was heavy with unreleased come. "I take it you like getting fucked like dis?" he said to infuriate Logan. "And your ass is just perfect, tight and hot, like it was made for me."

"Old pervert!" Logan countered, but his eyes almost popped out of their sockets as Jean-Luc suddenly fisted him wildly. "What are ya doin'?" Logan panted hard. He'd never before been dominated like this, had never considered submitting to a dominant partner. Jean-Luc possessed his body and Logan found that he wanted this to last.

"Want you to come first and feel you around me," Jean-Luc whispered into Logan's ear and then licked his collarbone. Logan squirmed deliriously. Pleased with his victory, Jean-Luc slid in and out of Logan's hot ass. Jean-Luc's balls slapped against sweaty skin and he loved the sound of it. "Come for me."

"Damn ya to hell, Cajun!" Logan screamed as he suddenly released his completion, shooting it onto the cabin floor, spilling it over Jean-Luc's hand. And damn, the Cajun continued to milk him until the last drop! Logan howled helplessly.

"Non… dis is heaven…" Jean-Luc groaned as Logan's muscle clenched him. "Mon Dieu… you're mine!"

Logan could hardly comprehend what was happening when Jean-Luc's hot come filled his ass. Still hard, Jean-Luc continued to thrust and this time the sensation was unbearable. Damn Cajun is comin' inside me! Logan realized shocked. He'd never allowed a man to come inside him! Disappointed, Logan whimpered as Jean-Luc's fingers slipped away from his sated cock.

"Dat was…" Jean-Luc covered Logan's body with his own, resting and panting his passion.

Logan went down too, as Jean-Luc pressed him to the floor. He's still inside me! Logan suddenly realized. He never expected this to turn him on, but he hadn't come this hard since… Can't remember…

Looking down, Jean-Luc realized he'd exhausted his partner. "Going to pull back now," he warned Logan.

"What… Damn!" That actually hurt… such sweet agony! Logan bit his lip.

"You got any idea how you look?" Jean-Luc said lovingly, stroking the man's back.

Logan didn't bother with trying to get to his feet. First, he wanted to savour this feeling. Jean-Luc's come dripped from his ass and he wondered… "What do I look like?"

"Like de sweetest fuck I've had in 15 years…" Jean-Luc complimented him.

"HA!" Logan laughed warmly, trying to roll onto his back.

Jean-Luc wrapped an arm around Logan's waist and pulled him into a sitting position. "I just realized that I haven't kissed you yet…" Logan's hooded eyes mirrored his surprise. "What?"

"Don't turn romantic on me, Cajun!"

"But I am a romantic!" Jean-Luc exclaimed amused.

"This is romantic? Pinning me to floor and fucking me without warning?"

"Non, dis is pure lust, Logan," Jean-Luc corrected him, "But if you want de romantic treatment as well, dat can be arranged!" With one fast move he grabbed Logan's head and pulled the Canadian close.

Logan sighed as bruising lips suckled his, forcing his lips apart and exploring every inch of his mouth. This is romantic? Guess I underestimated ya, Cajun! Logan allowed the invasion, but then grabbed Jean-Luc shoulders and growled. "Just that ya know it, Cajun. Next time, I'm gonna fuck you."

"You can try, mon ami! But for now let's clean up. I want to look in on Remy, make sure he doesn't have any nightmares."

"I'll tag along… in a sec," Logan whispered, finally able to regulate his breathing.

///

After a quick shower, both men descended down the stairs. "What are ya gonna do about Remy? The kid told me once 'bout bein' exiled." The guilty expression in Jean-Luc's eyes made Logan wonder. The revelation was sudden and unexpected. "Ya feel outa control, don't ya?" That was why Jean-Luc had dominated their first sexual exchange. Ya needed to feel in control!

"In a certain way you're right," Jean-Luc admitted and opened the door to Remy's room. The sleeping meds should be doing their work, supplying his son with undisturbed dreams. "I want to sit with him."

"I understand." Logan also straddled a chair. Only now he realized how young Remy really looked. "But yer wrong, ya know…" Jean-Luc eyed him questioningly so Logan continued, "Kid's stronger than ya think."

"Non, he isn't," Jean-Luc objected. "But he'll grow strong again." Tenderly, he took hold of his son's hand. "Do you have children, Logan?"

An uncomfortable shiver ran down Logan's spine. "I promised to look after one," he admitted. "But I don't see her often."

"I love Remy and to me, he is my own flesh and blood." Protectively, he rubbed the knuckles of Remy's hand. "And I failed him."

"Don't be too hard on yerself," Logan said after a moment's thought. "Ya can't change the past."

Dat's where you are wrong, mon ami, Jean-Luc thought bitterly. I brought dis fate upon Remy. If I had opposed de Antiquary dis would never have happened.

"Poppa?"

Remy's voice tore at Jean-Luc's soul. "Oui, I'm here, petite." The smile that surfaced on his son's face was heart wrenching.

"Stay?" In his state of half sleep Remy barely recognized his poppa's voice.

"Oui, I'll stay, Remy…"

"And so will I."

Jean-Luc gave Logan a thankful look. "Remy needs friends."

Irritated, Logan snapped, "And Wings ran out on him!"

"Suddenly finding yourself attracted to a man can be a scaring experience," Jean-Luc offered. "And I've got dis feeling dat Warren is still fighting himself."

Remy turned onto his right side, flinching when the ache in his side worsened. But the sound of familiar voices assured him that it was okay to surrender to sleep. Please… don'… let me… dream of… mon ange… Being abandoned still hurt too much!

///

Westchester

Warren lazily stretched his body and flexed his wings. His injury hardly bothered him any more. Might have something to do with the fact that Jean had checked on the wound last night. She'd said that it had healed nicely and he could do without the bandage. His wing had also recovered. Thanks to Remy… He cleaned and bandaged the injury.

His belly grumbled loudly, reminding him that it was time for breakfast. As he slipped into jeans and sweater, he mused about how well he'd slept after making the decision to head back to New Orleans. Bobby would drive him after breakfast and suddenly he felt nervous. Would Jean-Luc even allow him near Remy after the hurt he'd caused? He had to take that risk and face the patriarch.

"Warren? I'm hungry!" Bobby quipped and banged loudly on Warren's door. Hopefully his friend hadn’t change his mind overnight. He still didn't know the identity of Warren's love, but it was obvious that Warren cared a lot about this man. It would be a shame if Warren crawled back from commitment at this point.

"I hear you, Ice cube!" Warren replied and drew in a deep breath. Scott and Jean had been pleased to see him back at the mansion and now he had to tell them that he was leaving again. Bobby was right; he'd been away most of the time. It made Bobby's friendship even more valuable, considering his tiny input into the friendship.

As he touched the doorknob, he yanked back his hand. Bobby had frozen it. "Drake!" Maybe Bets is right too… maybe I'm a spoiled kid…

The door opened and Bobby gave Warren a huge smile. "Let's grab a bite to eat and then I'll drive you to the airport. Is that fine with you?"

"Yes." Warren closely observed his friend. "You're looking forward to your date this eve?"

Bobby turned quiet. "I hope I won't mess things up." What really worried Bobby was how Nicholas would react when he found out that he was dating a mutant.

///

Scott and Jean were already eating breakfast when they strolled into the room. "Morning." Scott looked at his team-mates, relieved to see that the dark, broody spell that had devoured Warren yesterday had lifted. "Help yourselves to some bacon and eggs!"

"How's your wound? Is it still troubling you?" Jean asked mildly concerned.

"I feel reborn!" Warren admitted with a sparkling smile. And all that because I made up my mind about Remy! Briefly, he felt guilty for not telling them that the Cajun thief was still alive, but he wanted Remy's permission first before he told anyone.

"Here," Bobby handed Warren his plate, already piled up with food. As they sat down, Bobby studied Warren. Yeah, he's going to follow through! Cool!

Warren dug into the food now that his appetite was finally back. "I'm leaving later today," he announced, already anticipating Jean's protest. "I got some unfinished business to take care of."

"But you just got here!" Jean protested, but Bobby's wink distracted her. "What?"

"He's in love!" Bobby exploded. "Let him go!"

"In love?" Scott smiled. "You and Bets are together again?"

"No," Warren said steadfast. "It's not Bets." Underneath the table he kicked Bobby's leg for telling on him.

In response, Bobby reached down and froze Warren's shoes.

"Stop that," Scott whispered exasperated. "You're too old to act like that."

"No, we're not," Warren and Bobby objected simultaneously.

"Do we know the lady?" Jean inquired curiously. Considering the looks Bobby was giving her, there was more to this story.

Suddenly, his heart pounded in his chest. It was time to come clean. Warren looked to Bobby for much needed emotional support. Bobby's sparkling eyes made it easier. "It's no lady. It's a man." Warren just knew that underneath that visor Scott arched an eyebrow.

"A man… how…"

"Interesting," Jean supplied, saving her husband's ass. "So, do we know him?"

Now, Warren felt cornered. "I haven't told him yet, so… I want to keep this private a little longer."

Jean smiled warmly. "I understand, don't we, Scott?"

Scott was lost in thought. "What, dear?"

"We understand!" Jean repeated and elbowed him.

"Yes, we do," Scott said eventually. Hell, they'd accepted that Bobby was gay, so Warren was bi? No big deal… I can handle it… I hope.

"You're going to tell him later today? How romantic," Jean stated in between bites and hardly resisted snooping around in Warren's mind. But she didn't, knowing she would be mad too if someone sneaked into her mind uninvited.

"So how are things around the mansion?" Warren asked after finishing breakfast. Leaning back into his chair he enjoyed his first cup of coffee.

"Pretty quiet," Jean replied in an unexpected sad tone. "Too quiet."

Scott placed his hand on hers, giving her an encouraging smile. "We all miss him."

Curiously, Warren shifted his look from Jean to Warren. "Miss who? Hank? The professor?"

"I miss Remy." Saddened, Jean dropped her knife and fork onto the plate. "I miss hearing him laugh and driving us mad."

"I still don’t know what happened after we left the Citadel," Warren pointed out to them, eager to learn more. Judging from Jean's reaction she wouldn't mind him bringing the Cajun back to mansion… if Remy still wants me.

"I wasn't there," Scott took over, "But it looks like Remy wanted to die. Somehow, his emotions got into Rogue's mind and she couldn't help but give in."

"Re… Gambit wanted to die?" Warren corrected himself. He didn't want them to grow suspicious. He couldn't answer their questions yet!

"To atone for his mistakes," Scott said softly.

Warren looked at his old friend. Did he hear disapproval in that voice?

"After I heard what had happened," Scott resumed, "Bobby and I took the Black Bird and returned to Antarctica. We really tried to find him."

"But we failed," Bobby interrupted saddened. "I can only assume that the ice and snow covered his body… that he slid into an ice crater and that the instruments didn't pick up on him."

"Yuh went back?"

The voice came from the corridor and Warren quickly turned around. Rogue and Joseph stood in the doorway and the expression in Rogue's eyes warned Warren to choose his words carefully. One way or the other, he'd find out the truth about Antarctica!

Part 16

A dreadful silence descended onto the room. As Warren watched their faces, he realized that Joseph and Scott definitely felt uncomfortable. "So," Warren started and leaned back, "Gambit wanted to die?" Somehow he couldn't believe that. The street rat that had saved his life twice had definitely been hanging onto life, a true survivor. But he was curious to hear Rogue's answer.

"Yeah," Rogue nodded her head. "Cajun wanted tuh die. He was in my head. Ah don't know how he did it, but Ah couldn't help it and gave him what he wanted."

"I wonder," Warren whispered and eyed her critically. "Was he already dead when you left him?" A brief flicker of hesitance shone in her eyes and he grinned. Scott also seemed very interested in her answer. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that they avoided discussing this issue, Poor Rogue, he thought, mocking her supposed innocence. Isn't it easy to put all blame on Remy?

"Dead," she whispered without adding further explanation.

Warren noticed the way she grabbed onto Joseph's hand. Her bare skin demonstratively touching his. Something about this didn't feel right. "And you didn't bring back the body? He is… was an X-Men… entitled to a decent funeral."

Bobby's eyes grew a little bigger, hearing Warren's statement. It almost felt like his friend was defending Gambit!

"What's yur problem, Flyboy?" Rogue asked in an unexpectedly vicious tone. "Swamp rat gathered the Marauders. They took yur wings!"

Warren's grin grew bigger. So you don't like me asking these questions? Considering his next step he looked at Scott. Definitely worried, Warren noticed pleased. This didn't sit right with Scott either! He had to keep her off balance to get to the core of this matter. Maybe… "Why didn't Scott and Bobby find his corpse then? Or did it magically disappear?" He waved his hand dramatically. "Did Scotty beam it up?"

Bobby couldn't help himself and giggled softly. Oh, Warren was getting himself into big trouble, defying Rogue. But he couldn't help but wonder about the same thing. His eyes locked with Jean's and he could almost hear her thoughts, Yes, why didn't we find his corpse?

Joseph felt terrible uneasy and conflicted. Although he loved Rogue, he'd liked Gambit as well. The Cajun had backed him up a few times when no one else had believed his ideas would work. The thought that his love could have left a man to die in Antarctica was unsettling. "You told me he was dead." They hadn't touched the subject in depth yet, as he respected her privacy.

Rogue's eyes shot fire. "Swamp rat was dead!" Her fingers tightened around Joseph's. "Ah don't owe yuh, Flyboy! Cajun hurt both of us!"

Warren suddenly realized what game she was playing and stopped Scott from cutting off their conversation. "He wasn't dead when you left him," he stated determinedly. How would she react to that?

"How would yuh know? Yuh weren't there!" Rogue exclaimed, wondering what had gotten into Warren all of a sudden. "Yuh never liked him to begin with. What's he tuh yuh?"

Scott gave Warren an alarming glance. Don't go there, Warren, don't!

But Warren got to his feet and walked up to the couple. "What's he to me? A team-mate. No matter what mistakes he made, he's a team-mate!"

That's funny! Bobby mused, Warren's talking about Gambit in the present tense! Again, he focused on his friend. He'd learned to read Warren's body language a long time ago. His friend was seriously pissed. Looks like Mr. Angry is gonna pop out! And he couldn't blame Warren. Rogue'd had this coming since Antarctica.

"Sugah, he took yur wings!" Rogue pointed out to him, but noticed the estranged look Joseph gave her.

"Gambit didn't destroy my wings. Don't use that lame old excuse on me." Warren's eyes darkened. "What excuse do you have for leaving him out there to die in the freezing cold? Leaving a team-mate behind, knowing damn well that he couldn't possibly survive in that frozen hell?"

Unexpectedly, Scott rose from his chair and came to a halt next to Warren, studying both of them. "Warren, Rogue…"

"What?" Warren turned around. "Don’t you want to know the truth, Slim?"

It was a frightening question, but Scott made his decision. "Actually, I do want to know what happened, Rogue. You were the last to see him alive…"

Bobby nodded his head, reaching a conclusion of his own. "You decided to punish him for his mistakes and flew away." But at the same time he realized something else, something which he kept to himself. That could mean that Gambit made it out alive somehow. We never found his body!

"Rogue? Don't tell me you sentenced him to death!" Joseph exclaimed hurt. He really, really loved this woman, but this doubt was eating him. As if bitten by a snake, he released her hand. "We need to talk."

"Sugah," Rogue whispered, brushing her fingertips over his face. "He was dead when Ah left him!"

"Show me his corpse and I believe you," Scott stated determinedly. "I never wanted to even consider that you left him there alive. It's Antarctica! No one survives there!"

But maybe Gambit did, Bobby mused, trying to read the expression in Warren's eyes. Why are you so damned passionate about defending Gambit? Rogue made one valid point. You never liked Remy.

"Rogue, now!" Joseph pulled her further into the corridor.

Warren's grin turned into a lazy smile. Now that he knew for sure that Rogue lied about Antarctica, things start to make a little more sense. "She judged and sentenced him. She was jury, judge and executioner in one, judging him to..."

"Death," Bobby finished for him. Now that Rogue and Joseph had left the room he grabbed Warren's shoulders. "Why? You never liked Gambit. Why defend him?"

Warren stared into Bobby's eyes, realizing his friend was only one step away from putting all the pieces of the puzzle together. Drake wasn't stupid and would figure out the truth about Remy and he. "I just want to know the truth, Ice Cube" he replied eventually. "Antarctica should never have happened!"

Bobby picked up an apple and patted Warren's shoulder. "C'mon. Your plane's waiting for you."

Scott stopped him before Warren could leave the room. "Did Scotty beam him up? You really need to stop watching Star Trek, Warren!"

"It was Bobby's fault," Warren quickly defended himself. "He made me watch every damn episode of the Next Generation!"

"Hey, Q is cool!" Bobby grinned teasingly. "Let's go."

This time, Scott stepped aside. "Don't take too long before visiting us again, Warren!"

"I'll keep in touch," Warren replied without real commitment. Maybe, one day he'd return here, but only with Remy at his side. Rogue would have to admit that she'd left Remy behind when the Cajun's stood in front of her!

///

"Warren? Hold on a sec!" Bobby handed him the briefcase. The plane was ready to leave, the pilot already waving Warren to quickly board or they'd miss their time slot. "I've been thinking about this."

"About what?" Warren grabbed his coat and put up the collar. There was a chilly wind today.

"How do you know that Gambit was still alive when she left him?" Bobby cocked his head, getting closer to the truth all the time. "You can only know that when you've seen him. And you also spoke about him in the present tense. Tell me, Warren, is Remy still alive?"

Briefly, they stood in silence. Warren was scared to answer and Bobby wasn't sure he could deal with the truth.

"Is he?" Bobby repeated. "I need to know, Warren."

"Bobby," he whispered softly. He couldn't lie to his best friend. "Don't make me tell you."

Bobby's eyes widened. "Are you telling me that he survived? That would explain why we couldn't find his body!" Excitement coursed through him. "I always hoped he made it out alive somehow! The whole trial was so unfair! From what Hank told me Remy didn’t stand a chance!"

"Just… don't tell the others, Bobby. I doubt Remy wants them to know the truth."

"Remy?" Bobby repeated questioningly. "When did Gambit turn into Remy? You always kept this distance…" His eyes almost popped out of their sockets and he shook Warren's shoulders wildly in bewilderment. "I can't believe this! But it's the only thing that makes sense!"

Warren cringed. Why did Bobby have to figure this one out?

"That's it, of course… You coming here, raving and ranting about being in love with a man and then I find out that Remy's still alive! Warren, you bastard! You could have told me the truth! I know how to keep a secret!" His head spun. "You're in love with Remy? Oh, this is great!"

"Stop a sock in it…" Warren warned him. "One word to the others and…"

"My lips are sealed… frozen…" Bobby quipped delighted. "Now get back to him, man! Don’t keep him waiting."

Hesitantly, Warren reached for Bobby to give him a hug. He was still uncomfortable with showing affection in public. His dad hardly ever hugged him and he remembered the love in Jean-Luc's eyes when he'd kissed Remy's brow. His own dad would never have done such a thing, no matter how ill he'd been!

"Where are you going?" Bobby asked as he walked Warren to the plane. "Just in case Rogue decides to fly after you. That way I can send her in the opposite direction." Warren's hug had surprised him, but it had also pleases him to learn that Warren was willing to work on his flaws. Too thick a skull for his own good!

Warren considered the question. Yeah, maybe Bobby should know where to find him if something went wrong at the mansion. "New Orleans. I'll e-mail you the address."

"Cool!" Bobby nodded his head. "I'll keep you posted, Warren."

"Thanks." As they reached the stairs, he looked Bobby in the eyes. "Would you freeze Betsy's shower for me?"

Bobby burst out laughing. "We did that too many times! What about… putting ice in her mattress? She'll end up soaked once she lays down and the ice starts to melt!"

"Sounds like a hell of an idea, Ice Cube," Warren said fondly. "We'll be talking online."

"Don’t forget my email addy," Bobby wiggled an eyebrow. "I got bored with the old one. My new addy is Furryblueballs@hotmail.com."

Warren almost choked in his laughter. "You better not tell Hank!"

Bobby gave him a mischievous grin. "Let me guess yours, WWorthington@Enterprises.com. Obviously, no inspiration or creativity!"

Ashamed, Warren had to admit Bobby had guessed correctly. "Maybe Remy will inspire me?"

"Good answer!" Bobby complimented him and waved good-bye. "Take good care of yourself, Warren… and look after Remy for me!"

"I will," Warren whispered as the cabin door closed behind him.

///

New Orleans

As Remy opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that he was alone in his room. For some reason he felt relieved, glad to have a private moment. The sleeping meds no longer made him feel groggy and mischievously, he looked around. How many days had he already been confided to bed? The wound didn't really hurt that badly any longer and he was tempted to try and get to his feet. He just had to make sure that poppa wouldn't catch him. After yawning lazily, he flipped back the comforter and flinched involuntarily. His side hurt after all!

"Mais dat's not stoppin' me!" He was fed up with lying in bed! As he struggled to his feet, he tried hard not to think of the things, which had happened lately. More specifically, he tried to avoid thinking of Warren. For the briefest of moments he'd hoped he'd made a real friend. But now that his memory slowly returned, he knew better. He'd fooled himself into thinking that they were friends. He remembered the first time he'd met Warren. Although he'd never disliked Angel, Warren seemed to instinctively loathe him. "Mais why? Why did he feel dat way? I never wronged him…" Or had he just done that in the past? Part of his memory was still blank. So how could he be sure he'd never earned the distrust and loathing he remembered so clearly?

Remy pressed his hand against his side, blocking out the pain. Looking about, he decided to try to head for the bathroom again. An unexpected wave of vertigo hit him and he grabbed the back of the armchair. Merde! What was going on? Bloodshed eyes stared at him from the darkness. Was he back in the tunnels? Non, not de tunnels… he realized and shivered. His lab! Si… Sini… Sinister's lab… De place where it started! He firmly closed his eyes. Don' want to see dis!

But his mind decided that he was ready to face the truth. A red diamond shone from the dark, gesturing him closer. "Non," he whispered. "Don' want to be here!" But Sinister ignored his protest.

Finally, part of his painful past returned to him. Went to him 'cause I needed help wid my powers. Dey were so strong dat I couldn' control dem any longer. I heard Sinister was de right man for dat job and I… asked him to help me. He accepted, mais wanted my services in return. One of de t'ings he demanded was dat I assemble de… Marauders…

He doubled over as another horrific memory crushed his mind. De Morlocks! Remy fell to his knees, hugging his waist, no longer worried that his wound might open again. The pain and terror he re-experienced was all consuming. It was de last t'ing Sinister wanted me to do. Help de Marauders convince de Morlocks dat dey weren' in danger. Mais Creed was dere and I… I led dem into de tunnels.

A girl appeared in his mind, bones sticking out of her shoulders and face. I tried to stop dem, I really did, mais dere were too many and Creed… Tears sprang from his eyes, as he relived the biggest mistake he'd ever made. He should never have given in to Sinister's demands!

His hands clawed at his chest. Creed had ripped the flesh there open, leaving him for dead, but he'd survived and so had the girl. Although his shields had been raised, he'd felt the pain seeping into the walls all around him. The tunnels had reeked of death.

"I could have prevented de Massacre," Remy whispered crestfallen.

"Nope, kid."

The voice came from behind him and alarmed, Remy tried to jump to his feet, completely forgetting his injury and the fact that had been mostly asleep during these last days. He lost his balance and prepared to take the fall, but a strong hand steadied him.

"Take it easy, bub. What are ya doin' outta bed?" Worried, Logan looked at the hunched figure. "Ya keep defyin' yer dad, huh? Stubborn Cajun!" Once he was convinced that Remy wouldn't fall again, he released the hold he had on the young Cajun. He refrained from reprimanding Remy for getting out of bed. Instead, he leaned against the wall and watched Remy struggle back to bed. "Yer memory is comin' back," Logan stated with certainty.

Reluctantly, Remy nodded his head as he cautiously sat down. "I remember gettin' dem killed," Remy whispered barely audible. Why was Logan still here? Why care about a… traitor?

Logan moved a little closer. He'd wanted to ask Remy these questions ever since finding out about the Cajun's involvement. "Why did ya work for him?" What was Remy hiding from him?

Remy tried not to inhale too deeply as his side stung viciously. "My powers…" Remy started in a defeated tone. "Dey were too strong. I couldn' control dem. Was so 'fraid dat I was goin' to blow someone up when it slipped. I needed help."

"And Sinister knows a lot 'bout mutant powers," Logan realized in sudden understanding. If only the kid had known about Chuck!

"Oui," Remy mumbled discouraged and cold shivers ran down his spine. He vividly remembered Sinister's calm and controlled tone when the scientist had prepared him for surgery. "Sinister explained de procedure to me."

"What procedure?" Cautiously, Logan sat down next the Cajun, who hugged his waist. If I push him too far and he'll clamp up 'gain!

"He altered my brain," Remy whispered and seemed to shrink into himself, ashamed of his admission, ashamed for letting Sinister do this to him. "He removed brain stem matter…"

Remy's voice dropped completely after speaking that last word. "Never told anyone. That's why I agreed to work for Sinister." He choked back the burning tears in his eyes. "Mebbe… mebbe it would have been better if I had just blown myself up," he sobbed helplessly. That way the Marauders would never have slaughtered the defenceless Morlocks.

"Remy." It was the first time that Logan spoke that name with such affection and concern. Logan surprised himself as he slowly lifted a hand to rest it on Remy's shoulder. The pain and sadness that had filled the Cajun's voice actually made him ache as well. "Don't say that."

"Mais it's de trut'," Remy maintained and carefully shrugged his shoulders. "It was a small sacrifice to make." Hesitantly, he lifted his eyes and peeked at Logan's. "I was so stupid…"

Acting on impulse, Logan pulled Remy a little closer, offering him comfort. "Ya did what ya had to survive," he whispered eventually, understanding the kid only too well. This explained Remy's involvement with Sinister but, "why did Sinister want ya in the tunnels?"

"He told me he wanted to help de Morlocks control deir powers… I hoped dat dey would t'ink of me as a friend. Didn' want Creed gettin' mad 'cause de Morlocks weren' co-operatin'." Remy drew away into himself, unwilling to look at Logan any longer. He could only hope that the Canadian would understand his situation. Wanted to help de Morlocks! Dey couldn' control deir powers eider and after Sinister helped me… I hoped he could do de same for dem! He'd never realized how evil Sinister was. Too naive, too young and too damn lonely!

"And ya never told anyone," Logan said compassionately. "Ya were 'fraid we would condemn ya without knowin' the whole deal?"

Remy wasn't sure what to say. "Still don' remember everyt'in' dat happened after the Massacre…" Oui, he remembered surviving Creed's attack, finding Storm in Cairo and joining up with the X-Men, but after that everything went blank.

"Ya never told Rogue?" Logan asked disapprovingly. Damn, Cajun! Ya should have told us! We didn't even get the chance to prove ourselves to ya. We would have accepted that truth, but ya never gave us the choice!

"Rogue?" Remy shook his head. "Who's dat?" The name sounded familiar, but…

Logan patted the Cajun's shoulder. It only made sense that Remy would forget about the one who'd hurt him most. "Yer ain't ready to remember that yet."

Standing in the doorway Jean-Luc watched the scene. He felt immensely thankful that Logan had been there for his son when Remy had needed the emotional support. Remy's admission that he'd worked for Sinister didn't shock him, but what angered him was that Sinister had used Remy so viciously. His son had needed help and Sinister had abused that need.

It was so like Remy to keep this all inside and to try to deal with it on his own. It had cost Jean-Luc years to earn Remy's trust, the X-Men had never stood a chance! After being exiled from New Orleans and Sinister playing him, Remy had lost the ability to trust.

Sensing his poppa's eyes on him, Remy pleadingly met his father's eyes. "I was scared," he admitted in a choked tone. "Didn' want to take someone wid me when my powers went berserk."

Jean-Luc walked towards his son. "And you didn't want to die either. You're a fighter, son. Don't ever forget dat."

"What's dere to fight for?" Remy allowed his poppa to pull him back into bed until he lay down again. The sudden hurt in Jean-Luc's eyes startled Remy. "Didn' mean it like dat, poppa! Don' want to lose you!"

"Den fight," Jean-Luc stated resolved. "Don't give up. I'll be with you every step of de way."

"Yer old man's right, ya know," Logan cut in. "Ya don't have to do this 'lone."

"You still want to be my friend?" Remy asked in disbelief. "After all I just told you?"

Logan nodded his head. "Ya gotta forgive yerself for lettin' Sinister use ya," Logan whispered and rose from the bed. "I'll be back later. I need to make a phone call." After hearing Remy's depressing tale he'd made his decision. What was there to fight for? Remy had asked him. Yer willin' to fight for Wings… This was only the beginning. Logan was determined to see to it that Remy's wounds healed. Once Remy had recovered from the trauma Logan would again suggest removing those shackles. It frustrated him that Remy was still suppressing and denying his mutant powers in such a way. I want those shackles off!

Remy watched Logan leave the room and held onto Jean-Luc's hand. "I ain' sure I still got de strength to fight, poppa."

"Den let me be your strength," Jean-Luc offered passionately.

"Poppa." Remy smiled gratefully, touched by the love and affection in Jean-Luc's voice. This man had saved his life too many times to count. "You want me to fight and beat dis?"

"Oui," Jean-Luc confirmed. "You're my son. I want what's best for you." He savoured the sudden determination that shone from Remy's eyes. "You're so special to me, Remy. You made dis old thief's heart feel alive again when you accepted my name."

"Every child should have a poppa like you," Remy whispered taken aback. Even after so many years he still didn't quite understand why the patriarch of the thieves' Guild had decided to adopt and care for him, le diable blanc.

Jean-Luc pulled him into an embrace. "No more talk of giving up, petite. It's time to look at de future." Stroking back some locks he cupped his son's chin in his hand. "Never doubt dat I love you, Remy LeBeau!"

A smile surfaced on Remy's face. Oui, all he needed to beat this depression was Jean-Luc's support and love. Like Logan had said, he didn't have to do this on his own. Resolved, he nodded his head. "Will try," he promised softly.

///

New Orleans International Airport

The city sparkled with sunlight as his plane touched down. Now that he was back, Warren was getting nervous. He had to call Jean-Luc LeBeau and hope that the patriarch would give him a second chance. It would probably be wise to ask Jean-Luc for an escort. Warren realized only too well how quickly the assassins would learn of his return.

If Jean-Luc refused to help him, he'd fly to the house. He wouldn't allow a few assassins to keep him from attaining his goal! He'd fought Sinister, Apocalypse, Magneto, and countless other villains! No way he'd give in now that Remy was this close.

The plane reached a stop and he fished his phone from his jacket. He'd memorized Jean-Luc's phone number when he'd first called Logan.

"Logan!" he whispered suddenly. He'd completely forgotten about Logan! The Canadian would love to see him squirm for Jean-Luc's help and approval!

///

"Got a sec to talk to me, kid?" Logan inquired. Jean-Luc had asked him to sit with Remy during the Cajun's absence, as some telephone calls demanded the patriarch's attention. Logan strode into the room and smiled approvingly at the sight of Remy mocking in bed. "Ya heard yer old man. Stay put!"

"Grumpy old Wolvie," Remy retorted and gave Logan a wicked smile. Although Logan and he'd never had any issues, only now he realized that the older man considered him a friend. My only one, 'cept for poppa. The thought stung.

"Now don’t start with me, bub," Logan replied in a similar fashion and sat on the side of the bed. "I wanna to talk to you 'bout those shackles."

"Shackles?" Remy looked puzzled. "I t'ought… " Remy grew silent. Shackles… that sounded like someone had put them on to restrain him. "Why am I wearin' dem?"

He still doesn't remember Antarctica… Logan wasn't sure what to do. The doctors had strongly urged them to give Remy more time to remember. The young man's memory would return once he was ready to face his past. Pushing Remy would only result in damage, but Remy obviously expected an answer. "It happened durin' a mission. Things went wrong."

Remy gave Logan a questioning look.

"Yer memories will come back once yer ready to deal with them." Logan hoped that the kid wouldn't push him. "Trust me on this, Cajun."

"You still want to remove dem?" Remy didn't like the look of determination in Logan's eyes. "Please don'."

"Why?" Unnoticed, Logan took hold of the still bandaged wrist and probed the tightness of the shackles. Yeah, he could slip a claw underneath the metal. "Because of yer charm?" Shivers tormented Remy's body and Logan realized he'd have a hard time talking some sense into the Cajun.

"Poppa told you?" Well, if his father trusted Logan with this information, maybe he should try putting his trust in the Canadian as well. "Charm will be strong once dey get off. Still don' remember how to control it."

"That's what worries ya? That it'll slip?"

"Oui," Remy replied softly and locked eyes with Logan. "Did poppa also tell you what de charm… does to people?" He really didn’t want to discuss this with a man he hardly knew.

"Yer scared that," Logan paused, wondering how the hell to phrase this, "we'll hurt ya?"

Defeated, Remy nodded his head. "Dat's why I want dem to stay on. Makes me feel safe. I don' have to use all my energy to control de charm. I can… rest… I don' have to worry 'bout blockin' people's feelings."

Pleadingly, Remy's eyes focused on the older man. "Poppa wants me to survive, to become stronger… I can only do dat wid dem on… I need more rest… more time." Mon Dieu, did he really see understanding in those blue eyes?

"Make ya a deal, kid," Logan said thoughtfully and allowed for one claw to slip underneath the shackle. "What if I cut through them… That way ya can still keep them on, but should ya change yer mind, ya can slip them off. That way yer in charge." It was the only thing he could come up with. If the kid got into trouble again, at least that way Remy could use his charging power to defend himself.

"Not sure 'bout dat," Remy whispered uncomfortably. He understood Logan's desire to set him free, 'Mais… I like it better dis way. Never wanted my powers. Dey hurt me," Remy mumbled the apology.

"Just let me cut through the metal, Remy." Logan used the name on purpose, hoping it'd convince the young Cajun that he only had his best interest in mind.

Remy considered the request. Won' make much of a difference. "And dey'll still keep my powers under control?"

"Yeah." Logan didn't feel guilty for this white lie. He wasn't sure the damaged shackles would keep Remy from using his powers, but he had to take the risk. The kid might never give him permission again!

Suspiciously, Remy eyed the older man. "Ain' sure," he whispered eventually.

"C'mon, kid. Yer old man and I'll be here to keep an eye on ya!" Logan sighed exasperated. "I know yer 'fraid," he added in a gentler tone, "But ya've got to take that first step if ya really want to heal."

Remy had promised his poppa to try. He'd vowed to fight this depression and to let them be his strength, but it was harder than he'd thought it would be. But he couldn't give up now. Poppa was right about one thing; he wasn't a quitter. He was a survivor and he refused to give up now. He still had Jean-Luc and tante to fight for. They wouldn't let him down and maybe, just maybe, he could now add Logan to that short list as well.

"Please, kid. Trust me 'nough to do this," Logan said, making one more attempt. This was it. If Remy refused he'd stop pushing.

"Do it," Remy whispered in a barely audible tone. "It scares de hell outta me, sayin' oui, mais poppa always told me to face my fears." His arms shook as he extended them, offering Logan the shackles. In his entire life he'd only trusted a handful of people; Jean-Luc, tante and he'd thought he could trust Warren as well, but his angel had left him. But, maybe he was ready to trust Logan.

Realizing the big step for what was, Logan smiled flattered. "Thanks, kid. I really appreciate the trust." Slowly, he unsheathed a claw on his other hand as well and pushed them simultaneously underneath the shackles. "Yer sure?"

Remy took a deep breath. Non, he wasn't sure, but realized he had to do this. "Oui," he whispered shakily. Stunned, he watched the two adamantium claws cut through the metal shackles, seemingly leaving them whole.

"Ya can bend them, when yer ready to remove the shackles," Logan informed him. "What did ya expect?" he asked, noticing Remy's confused expression. "That they'd drop to the floor?"

"Oui," Remy admitted softly. But close examination revealed that the shackles could be removed. Remy wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"Ya decide when to take them off, kid. Ya need to be in control." Logan got to his feet, pleased with his achievement. "Anythin' else, bub?"

Uncomfortably, Remy looked at the older man. Merde. Logan was right. He needed to be in control! "Would you ask poppa if he heard from…" In the end, he couldn't speak the name.

"Warren?" Logan supplied with a sad smile on his face. "Yer still hopin' he will be back, kid? I'm so sorry…"

Head bowed in defeat, Remy's fingers dug into the comforter. "I know it's… silly," Remy confessed softly. "Mais… " How could he explain the ache that filled his heart and soul?

"I tried to call him for ya," Logan revealed and nodded his head as Remy looked up in surprise. "But his phone was busy. Want me to try later?"

"Would you do dat?" Remy exclaimed excited. "Jus' want to know if his wound's healin'."

"Remy, ya got to face the truth," Logan said in a subdued tone. "Wings ain't comin' back. I know admittin' that's hard, but…" Remy's draped eyes silenced him. Shit, kid knew the truth, but…

"I know he ain' comin' back, Logan., mais… don' take 'way my hope? Please?" Drained, Remy pulled up the comforter and curled up onto his side. He needed to feel safe, needed this hope to keep him from giving up.

"Sure, kid," Logan growled softly. Remy's 'hope' stung for several reasons. Warren wouldn't come back. Worthington had probably already forgotten about the Cajun. Remy was living a dream that would never come true and the Cajun would only end up hurt because of it. "Anythin' else?" Logan asked again.

"Non, merci, Logan." Remy closed his eyes, pushing his body deeper into the mattress. His right hand slipped to his left wrist to make sure that the shackles were still in place. He wasn't worried about his charging power. He might blow up some stuff, but poppa was used to that. Non, it was his charm that troubled him. How had he controled it? How could he have forgotten such an important part of his life, which resolved around keeping that damned mutant power at bay!

As Logan's footfalls echoed into the hallway, Remy opened his eyes again. Lovingly, his eyes caressed the items in the room. "Just a little longer," he prayed with pain in his heart, "Just let me rest a little longer 'fore I have to leave 'gain." Although poppa'd assured him that he could stay as long as necessary, he recognized the lie within the truth. At one point the assassins would get fed up with him living at home again and they'd start pressuring poppa. "Dere is not'in' he can do…" Remy hid underneath the comforter, trying to push the unsettling thoughts away. "I'll have to leave N'awlins… soon."

///

"Logan? I need you to do something for me," Jean-Luc mentally replayed the conversation he'd just had.

"What?" Logan straddled a chair and looked at the patriarch, feeling a stabbing lust in his groin. Damn, he was running out of patience! Soon, he planned on getting even with the man who'd dominated him so completely!

"I had a very interesting phone call," Jean-Luc stated and rose from behind the desk. "Warren Worthington just arrived at de airport."

Logan's eyes revealed surprise. "Why? I thought that there's a prize on his head? Assassins will wanna collect."

Jean-Luc sighed as Logan walked up behind him, wrapping strong arms around his waist. Enjoying the moment, he leaned back into the embrace. "Apparently, he's here for Remy."

Logan tightened the embrace. "I can't believe this. Wings is back?"

"And is asking for a second chance." Jean-Luc rubbed his brow. "Dere's too much happening lately," he whispered fatigued. "And now de assassins are rearing deir ugly heads as well. Dey want Remy out of de city. Dey threatened to kill Remy de first time he steps outside de house."

Angered, Logan rested his chin on Jean-Luc's shoulder. "Ya need to get the kid into safety."

"Oui… Dat's why I'm willing to give Warren a second chance. He can take Remy away from here and look after him." Jean-Luc had pondered his decision since Warren had called. "He sounded sincere."

"Cajun?" Logan slowly turned Jean-Luc around so he could look into his eyes. "Wings is a selfish kinda guy. "

Jean-Luc cocked his head, studying Logan's expression. "You don't like him much."

"He's an arrogant prick!" Logan exclaimed as he brought his face closer to Jean-Luc, almost close enough to kiss, but not yet touching the man yet. "I'm just worried he might hurt the kid. Remy can't take much more."

"I'm glad you care about Remy," Jean-Luc started and then brushed his new lover's lips. "Mais dere's a lot you have to learn about Remy."

"Like what?" Logan deepened the kiss and growled possessively as Jean-Luc's lips parted.

Reluctantly, Jean-Luc pulled back. "Dis isn't de right time," he warned.

"Remy," Logan reminded him. "We were talkin' 'bout the kid." Oh, he loved throwing Jean-Luc off balance. The man needed to let go of the situation. Ya can't control everythin'! Being the patriarch of the thieves' Guild had taken a large toll on Jean-Luc.

"Remy knows how to take care of himself. Sometimes he makes decisions that I question, but dey work for him. If you let him in, and I think Warren's ready to do dat, Remy'll find a way into your heart and never leave again."

"Ya think Wings and Remy will work out?" Logan asked sceptically. "Warren's never been interested in guys."

"Things change," Jean-Luc remarked absentmindedly. "Would you go to de airport and pick him up? Assassins will be looking out for him." He didn't want to take any risks and Logan struck him as the perfect bodyguard.

Logan considered the request. "Okay," he gave in. "I'll make sure his ass gets here in one piece. Are ya gonna tell Remy?"

"Non," Jean-Luc whispered. "I don't want him panicking. De direct approach works best most of de time. Mais I want to talk to Warren before allowing him to see Remy." Logan's hand sneaked up his back, massaging a tight knot of muscle underneath his left shoulder blade. "Did you make any progress with Remy? I want dose shackles off as well."

"We compromised. I cut through the metal. He can take them off when he feels safe enough. Right now, he still needs them," Logan mumbled and enjoyed seeing the relieved expression in Jean-Luc's eyes. His other hand trailed down Jean-Luc's back and kneaded the Cajun's buttocks. "This job is killin' ya, ya know that, don't ya?"

"I've been doing dat job for 80 years, Logan," Jean-Luc admitted, loving the feel of that rough hand moving over his buttocks. It'd been so long since he'd allowed someone to look after him, if only for a few moments.

"How long?" Logan's eyes narrowed. "80 years?" Jean-Luc didn't look that old!

"A little secret of the Guild," Jean-Luc regretted this slip of the tongue. "I'm over a hundred."

"We're two greedy old bastards," Logan whispered pleased. The age difference had worried him a little and Logan felt a lot more comfortable now. Possessively, Logan slipped his hand underneath Jean-Luc's trousers. "They think I'm kinda old too," he admitted and grinned as Jean-Luc arched his hips, offering his lover easy access. Teasingly, his fingers explored Jean-Luc's cleft and hovered over his lover's entrance. Exploring the little pucker with his fingertips, Logan grew aroused. He desperately wanted to bury himself in that tight hot passage, possessing Jean-Luc completely. "Later," Logan promised, voice filled with anticipation.

"Later," Jean-Luc agreed. "You're going to try to take me, mon ami?" he asked, looking forward to the fight for dominance, which Logan would probably win. He wanted this to be about equality. It was Logan's turn to establish his dominance.

"Yer ass is mine this time," Logan confirmed and wickedly, he inserted the tip of one finger without warning. Jean-Luc quavered and Logan smirked as the Cajun's inner muscle clenched around his finger. "Yer tight, Cajun. I'll love fuckin' that ass."

"Merde!" Jean-Luc's voice was ragged, filled with longing. He'd never expected Logan to take the lead now. Concentrating on the invasive feeling inside his ass, his knees almost gave out on him. It felt incredibly intimate. Oui, he can overpower me, take me, possess me… No one had ever managed to best him and secretly he longed for it to happen. How would it feel to have Logan's cock inside him? To submit completely?

A knock on the door killed the mood. "Monsieur LeBeau? Car's ready."

Logan's enjoyed the power he had over Jean-Luc and his finger probed deeper. Jean-Luc's moan turned Logan even more on. "Go ahead, tell him."

"Monsieur Logan will be with you in…" Jean-Luc's cock was now fully erect and his body ached with lust, as Logan's finger stroked his prostate with one knowing motion. "In a second…" Mon Dieu, he's staking his claim!

Logan grinned maliciously. In painfully slow motion he began to withdraw his finger from the Cajun's trembling body, massaging the tight ring of muscle on his way out. Oh, he wished he were already back from the airport so he could fuck the Cajun like Jean-Luc had fucked him! "Straighten out yer clothes," he whispered wickedly, smelling the tension and arousal on Jean-Luc's body. "I'll be back soon and ya better be ready for me!"

Jean-Luc watched Logan leave the room. Merde! What had happened just know? Maybe he wanted this more than he'd ever thought possible. It was tempting to let got so Logan could take the lead, but submission was something that went against his every instinct. Luckily, he had time to think this over before Logan would try to claim him.

///

Nervously, Warren shuffled his feet. Jean-Luc had just called him, telling him that Logan was on his way to pick him up. He didn't like this development, as . Logan was unpleasant company. Too smug and too damn arrogant! As he paced the waiting area, he wondered what to say to Jean-Luc. He was too scared to think of what apology to offer Remy, so he didn't even think about that one. He'd have to convince Jean-Luc of his honest intentions first. If the patriarch didn't believe him, Jean-Luc would never allow him to talk to Remy! But maybe it was a good sign that Jean-Luc had agreed to talk to him in the first place. The patriarch had sounded tired and tense and Warren's concern for Remy grew. Was Remy remembering the painful things? "And I just ran out of him!"

"Ya got that one right," Logan said surprised. He had never seen Warren this worried! It was obvious that Worthington felt edgy and the man smelled of fear.

"Don't start with me! I'm not in the mood!" Warren sneered, angry that he hadn't picked up on Logan approaching him. "If you want to gloat, do it in silence, but get off my back!"

"Woa, kid, calm down," Logan whispered surprised. Why was Warren this defensive?

"I want to see Remy," Warren stated resolved, picked up his briefcase and gestured Logan to start walking. "And I want to see him now!"

Logan decided not to get into an argument here, where everyone could overhear them. He walked Warren to the car and once inside, he told the driver to start the engine. Now that they were alone, he wanted some answers. "Why are ya back?"

Warren's head snapped back. He'd expected the tirade. "None of your business!"

"Don't be mad at me, kid. I didn't do anythin' wrong." Logan studied Warren. "Yer pissed off at yerself."

Warren didn't know what to do. When he'd left Westchester everything had been so simple and clear. He was going to claim Remy and start building a relationship, but the closer he got to the young Cajun, the more doubts surfaced. All he could do was hang onto Bobby's advice; to not run at the first sight of trouble. If he wanted Remy, he had to fight!

"So what's the deal? Yer here to hurt the Cajun 'gain?" Logan wasn't sure what to make of Warren's behaviour. "I mean, the kid's got a crush on ya. Ya shouldn't play him."

"I'm not playing him!" Warren hissed angered. "And I don't have to explain a thing to you!"

"But ya'll have to explain it to Jean-Luc," he reminded Warren. "What do ya plan on tellin' him? Ya bailed out once…"

Stubbornly, Warren crossed his arms in front of his chest. "This is none of your business, Wolverine."

Exasperated, Logan leaned back and gave up. "I don't know what's goin' on in that thick skull of yers, Wings, but I ain't the enemy here. Ya might hate my guts, but we're still team-mates."

Warren peeked at Logan's eyes, surprised at the lack of hostility. If someone was being hostile then it was him. "I'm just confused as hell," he offered as apology.

"Because ya suddenly have feelings for a guy?" Logan raised an eyebrow. "Must admit that surprised me. "

"Freaked me out for a while." Warren admitted, calming down a little. "So how is Remy?" he asked softly. "Any better?"

"Remy remembered the Marauders and the Morlocks. Remembering the Massacre was hard on him."

"Is he eating again? Taking his meds?" Finally, Warren made full eye contact with Logan. "Anything else?"

"He's been askin' 'bout ya," Warren said reluctantly. "Wanted to know if ya'd called." Logan considered his next words very carefully. "Kid's in love with ya."

"I know that," Warren admitted softly and couldn't help blushing slightly. "Took me some time to realize that I feel the same way. I mean, I hated him."

"Ya did?" Logan nodded his head. "Ever wondered if this is the reason why ya always picked on him?"

Warren eyed him questioningly. "Care to explain that?"

"Maybe ya felt like this from the beginning, but never admitted it? Repressed it and blamed him for feelin' that way?" Logan shrugged his shoulders. "I'm no shrink, but I got this feelin'."

"Honestly, I don't know," Warren whispered as the car came to a stop.

"We're home," the driver announced and parked the car.

"This is it," Warren whispered privately as he got out. Looking at Logan he asked, "Do you think Jean-Luc will let me see Remy?"

"Ya got a good chance," Logan grumbled. "Don't fuck up again."

///

The nervous expression on Warren's face definitely pleased Jean-Luc. It spoke in Warren's favour that he was back this soon, that he'd reached this decision so quickly. But Jean-Luc wasn't going to make this easy on Worthington. He wanted to make sure Remy wouldn't be hurt a second time. "Why did you come back?" Jean-Luc asked and lit a cigar. Seeing Logan's sudden hungry look, he threw the Canadian a cigar. Looked like this was another thing they had in common!

Warren cleared his throat. "I kept thinking about Remy."

Jean-Luc licked his lips and blew a dark cloud of smoke into the room. "Dat's no reason to come back."

Logan enjoyed inhaling the smoke deeply before letting it float from his lungs. He definitely loved his healing factor! Warren was squirming and Logan didn't feel any pity for the former playboy. It was obvious Warren desperately wanted to see Remy, but first Warren had to pay the prize for deserting Remy.

"All right then!" Warren hissed and then his tone softened, knowing he was paying the prize for leaving Remy earlier. "I'm in love with him!" Surprised, he realized how good it felt to say that. "I love Remy."

Jean-Luc and Logan exchanged a glance. "What do you plan to do about dat?" Jean-Luc inquired, ignoring Logan. It was obvious that Logan wanted him to allow Warren to talk to Remy. But Jean-Luc wasn't satisfied yet.

"I thought about that last night," Warren revealed, relaxing a little. "I know he can't stay here… the assassins…"

"True," Jean-Luc said curiously.

"He needs a break. Hell, we both deserve one!" Pleadingly, Warren looked into Jean-Luc's eyes, not hiding a thing. He wanted this man to know how deeply he cared about Remy. "I own this house in Ireland. It would do both of us good to get away from the X-Men and New Orleans." Suddenly, he started pacing the study. "I want to get to know him, see if we work out. I'm willing to…" Briefly, he faltered, remembering Bobby's words, "I'm willing to commit myself to him."

Logan's eyes sparkled. It was the first time ever he'd seen this side to Warren. "What 'bout Bets?"

"We're no longer together, Logan. We called it quits months ago." Warren concentrated on Jean-Luc, knowing the man wasn't convinced yet. "I know I'm a coward and a bastard for walking out on Remy when he needed me, but I had to come to terms with the fact that I'm in love with a man! That never happened to me before. I needed time to understand what was happening."

Jean-Luc dropped the ashes of his cigar into an ashtray and studied Warren. "What guarantee do I have dat you won't run out on him again? Remy's going through a rough time and he needs stability. Can you handle being in love with him?"

"I can. Now, I can. I talked to a friend of mine and I… I realized that I don't want to lose Remy. I want to take his pain away and…"

"Bien," Jean-Luc cut him off and raised one hand. "Listen. If Remy still wants you, he'll have you. His happiness comes first. If Remy agrees to going to Ireland with you, he can go. If I hear you hurt him on purpose again, my thieves will find you." Slowly, he rose from behind the desk. "Remy's precious to me and I won't allow you to hurt him. If you do, you'll answer to me! Is dat understood?"

Not backing away from the glare, Warren straightened his shoulders and returned the stare. "I understand."

Logan finished his cigar and amused, watched the exchange. Wings had greatly surprised him. "What if Bets wants ya back?"

Warren turned around to face him. "Bets can go to hell. I want Remy."

Jean-Luc smiled approvingly behind Warren's back. "Go to Remy and tell him, but his decision counts. If he wants you, I'll allow it. If he tells you to leave, I'll make sure you leave N'awlins forever."

Warren moved over to the doorway. "Does he know I'm here?"

"Nope," Logan replied and joined Jean-Luc to claim another cigar. "And I suggest ya give him time to work through this. Last thing he expects is for ya to show up 'gain."

"I'll arrange for a flight to Ireland," Jean-Luc offered, knowing how damn important it was that Remy left New Orleans. The assassins' threats were getting more vicious with every passing hour.

"Monsieur LeBeau?" Warren said and locked eyes with Jean-Luc. "Please give me a chance here. This is new to me, but I love him…"

"Go and talk to my son," Jean-Luc replied pleased. "We all make mistakes," he whispered after Warren had left the room, "but de important thing is dat we learn from dem."

///

"Okay, old boy. Take a deep breath." Warren didn't have a clue what to say to Remy, or how to apologize and declare his love. Hopefully the words would come easily once he was inside. "Please forgive me, Remy," he said, rehearsing probably the most important words in his life. Resolved, he knocked on the door.

"Oui?" Remy looked up from the book he was reading. He knew better than to try and leave his room. Poppa had ways to make him feel guilty like hell. And even more importantly, doctor Mansour had just been here to check on him. The physician had urged him to stay in bed, as the wound wasn't healing as quickly as it should.

"Oui? Come 'side?" He wondered who it would this time. Poppa or Logan? The two men seemed to have developed a routine, checking on him at least once an hour. Oui, poppa trusted him, but poppa also knew he tended to overestimate his strength and go for short walks instead. As the door didn't open, Remy grew worried. Had one of the assassins found his way inside? It was a good thing that he always kept the prototype of his Bo-staff near the bed. It couldn't hurt to be too careful.

Angered by his own cowardice, Warren finally opened the door and stepped inside, uncertain what to say. His eyes immediately found the Cajun's and the disbelief in them stunned Warren. Logan had been right. Remy had never expected him to return.

"Warren?" Shocked, the book he was reading fell from his hands and onto the floor. Had his poppa fed him the sedative after all? He had to be hallucinating! It was the only explanation!

"Remy," Warren whispered the name and his heart suddenly picked up speed, pounding madly. "You look better," Warren said relieved. Although the dark circles under Remy's eyes had only slightly lessened, he took comfort in the fact that the Cajun had gained a little weight. The cut on his brow had healed, leaving a scar.

Unable to believe that Warren really stood in his room, Remy simply stared at him. Speechless, his eyes begged for an explanation. He had to say something, but… "You're here to take me up on dat dinner invitation?" Mon Dieu, it sounded stupid! Remy tried to regulate his erratic breathing. He'd hoped his angel would return but…

"Remy? Can we talk?" Slowly, Warren made his way over to the bed. He waited for Remy's answer before sitting down.

"Mais oui, glad you’re back," Remy whispered awkwardly. The hooded expression in Warren's eyes made him tremble. "How's de wound? Your wing?" It didn't matter how long this visit would last, he'd savour every second of it! His hands twisted in his lap, eager to reach out and curl around Warren's, but he stopped himself. Quickly, Remy pulled up the comforter and pushed his hands underneath his buttocks. He couldn't make the mistake of touching Warren now. He might never want to let go again!

"I'm fine, Remy. How's your side?" Briefly, his eyes darkened at the realization that Remy had been willing to die for him. Bets would never had saved his ass like that. I've been so stupid!

"De doctor says it'll be fine once I stop movin' 'bout so much," Remy admitted in a guilty tone. "Only went to de badroom!"

Warren smiled weakly, hearing that particular tone. Damn! I should have stayed here to take care of him! Instead, I ran! He shifted on the side of the bed, moving a little closer. "Then stop moving about, Remy." The affection in his tone surprised Warren and he knew he had to make his admission quickly.

Remy's smile brightened. "Merci for carin', ange."

Hearing that little nickname got to Warren. Even after deserting Remy, the Cajun still called him ange. "Remy, I owe you one big, fat apology." Remy raised an eyebrow and Warren realized that the Cajun had no idea what he was talking about. Remy probably convinced himself that I don't care and I can't blame him!

"What for? No apology is neces…" Remy shut up, seeing Warren's glare. Whatever Warren had to say was important to the man.

"I chickened out," Warren rubbed his brow. "I simply ran when things got complicated, leaving you to deal with everything on your own. I'm so sorry I did that. Please forgive me, Remy." Warren avoided Remy's eyes, waiting for the anger at being abandoned to surface. He'd really messed up big time!

"Mais, ange. It's bien, don' worry 'bout it." Remy's right hand sneaked on top of the comforter and rubbed Warren's fingers. Remy never realized he was doing it. "De assassins want to kill you. You had to leave. I understand." It meant so much to him that Warren was back but… "You should have stayed 'way, mon ami. Assassins don' give up easy." His heart missed a beat, realizing the danger Warren was in. "You need to leave N'Awlings, ange."

Warren stared at Remy's fingers, which rested on his hand. Unfamiliar with such intimate contact, he slightly pulled back. "I'm not leaving without you," he stated resolved, fearing for Remy's reaction. The pain in his heart increased, as he realized that Remy didn't blame him for walking away. The Cajun forgave him and that infuriated Warren. Why wasn't Remy mad at him? Yelling and telling him to leave?

Bewildered, Remy shook his head. "Funny, t'ought de effect of de meds had worn off… now I'm hearin' t'ings…Sorry, what did you say, ange?" Next time, poppa wouldn't talk him into taking his meds that easily! He had woken up this morning, hadn't he? So that ruled out that this was a dream!

"I said," Warren repeated, this time with some amusement in his tone, "That I'm only leaving the city if you're coming with me, Remy."

"You sure? I babble all de time… fall 'sleep at de most crazy times and…" Suddenly, Remy stopped talking. "Why are you laughing?"

"Did it ever occur to you to say no to me?" Warren quipped, relieved that this talk was going so well. He'd been seriously worried that Remy would refuse to talk to him. But he was still a coward, not touching on his feelings for the Cajun.

"Non!" Remy replied teasingly and suddenly grew aware of Warren's fingers twined with his. Merde! When had he reached out to Warren? And come to think of it, why was Warren returning the caress? "Ange?"

"There's something else I need to tell you, something important." Warren firmly clasped his fingers around Remy's. "I'm the biggest asshole in the world for walking out on you. No! Listen!" he cut Remy short, as the Cajun wanted to protest. "Listen!"

For once, Remy gave in, wondering what had gotten into Warren. Why was the man so serious?

"The reason I came back is because I can't stop thinking about you." Remy's big eyes made Warren smile. "Every time I close my eyes, I see your face. Every time I fall asleep, I see your eyes. I want you close, Remy."

"Why?" Remy's voice trembled audibly. He never got lucky, so why would this time be any different? "Because you feel guilty for dat knife incident? I made de decision to jump in dere…" Again, Warren silenced him with a glance, incredibly soft and -for the first Remy could finally admit it- unbelievably sexy.

"No, I want you with me for a different reason." Warren knew he was stalling, but suddenly he was lost for words. How did you declare your love for another man? Bobby would probably chide him, telling him to follow his instincts.

"Ange?" Remy smiled, entranced by the possibilities, yet still too afraid to hope.

"You want to know why I deserted you?" Warren asked in a trembling tone, meeting Remy's eyes. God, they're so expressive! It's like I can read his every desire, hope or fear in them! How could he ever have thought of them as devil's eyes? He had, when he'd first met Remy LeBeau.

"Oui, why did you go 'way?" Remy tried pulling back his hand, wondering if his closeness made Warren nervous, but Warren shook his head, stopping Remy's retreat. Soft fingers caressed his and made him go weak. "Ange?"

"I ran because I have feelings for you," Warren said after taking a deep breath. He was doing okay, now he had to get the rest out. "I ran because I've never been in love with a man before and you… you scare me."

"Scare you?" Remy's heart beat in a mad rhythm. Had Warren just confessed to being in love with him? How could that be?

"Yes, you scare me." There, he'd said it. "You're so… damn passionate and forgiving! First, I fly off the handle because you saved me from the sniper and then… damn, you nursed me back to health, took care of my wing and all that while you were scared."

"Ange?" Lost, Remy held onto Warren's hand.

"You remember Bobby Drake? Ice Cube?" Warren smiled fondly, hoping so badly that Remy did remember Drake.

"Oui, I think I do," Remy admitted.

"He kicked my sorry butt back to New Orleans. Told me not to throw your love away and… here I am." Nervously, Warren waited for Remy's reply.

But Remy was still trying to work this out. Except for poppa and tante no one had ever told him that they loved him. Warren coming back and making this confession seemed like an episode from the Twilight Zone, which he used to watch. "You love me?"

"I'm in love with you, Remy and I want to take you to a safe place. New Orleans is too dangerous for both of us. Your father promised to help us get to Ireland in one piece… if you'll have me." Warren looked at their intertwined fingers. It still felt odd. He wasn't used to touching people. His father had always made sure that there had been a proper, formal distance between them. "The question is, Remy, do you want me?" Asking that question frightened Warren. What if Remy told him to go to hell? "I'm not entitled to a second chance, I know that, Remy. But please… I really want to make this work." Truthfully, Warren couldn't imagine a life without the Cajun, not now Remy was this close, reminding him of what he'd callously threw away days ago. "If you tell me no, I'll leave and never bother you again," Warren promised defeated. Remy's silence worried him. That was a bad sign! Warren forced himself to be quiet. Jean-Luc had been right. Remy had to decide what would happen next!

Remy's mind spun and he had trouble focusing on Warren, who'd bowed his head. During all these drugged night, he'd dreamed that Warren was sitting at his bed, holding his hand like he did now. Telling Remy, how much Warren loved him. Now that it was happening, Remy couldn't believe it.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Warren asked, "Can you give me a second chance, Rem?"

Rem… he called me dat durin' de nightmares! His eyes searched Warren's and he only encountered truth and affection. Warren Worthington the Third was speaking the truth!

"I had a dream once… about you," Warren started, now really concerned that Remy was spacing out on him. "You asked me if I could love you and the answer is yes. You'll have to be patient with me, though. Remy?" Scared shitless of being rejected Warren leaned in closer to study Remy's eyes. "Please talk to me."

"Ireland?" Remy mumbled in disbelief. "You want to go to Ireland?"

Relieved, Warren nodded his head. "I own a small cottage there. Nothing fancy. No castle or manor, but… I'd love to live there with you, help you heal, get to know you." He'd said all that could make a difference.

Remy cocked his head. "Do you love me? Really love me? You know 'bout de… Antiquary… what he did to me…" Speaking the name wasn't as hard as it used to be, but the old pain was still there. Thanks to that vile bastard he'd always feel tainted, inferior… not complete.

"Yes, I know. How could I not?" Warren's tone softened seeing the anguish on Remy's face. "I held you during that first nightmare… You begged me not to touch you. Didn't take me long to figure things out."

"And you still want me?" Remy asked to make sure. "Don' get me wrong, I'm flattered dat you'd want me, mais you don' strike me as a man who…"

"What?" Warren sneaked a little closer. Their bodies didn't touch, but he wanted to see every emotion in those eyes.

Remy pushed back into the pillows, which supported his body now that he was sitting up. "I ain' an easy person to be 'round, ange. I'm trouble."

"I already told you that I'm trouble too," Warren said, feeling hopeful. At least Remy wasn't rejecting him. Clinging to their joined hands he said, "Will you give me a chance to make you happy? Oh, I'll screw up things, but hopefully…"

This time it was Remy who silenced Warren. "Ireland? Never been dere."

"I take it that's yes, oui?" Warren added teasingly, immensely relieved. "I was so afraid I'd fuck up again, Remy and that you wouldn't give me that chance. God knows that I don't deserve it."

"I can' understand why you'd want me as your lover," Remy admitted. "You could do so much better, ange, mais if dis is what you want, I'd be a fool not to take you up on de offer." Remy wasn't sure why he'd just accepted Warren as his new love, but it was a hell of a lot better than being alone!

Warren read some of Remy's fear in his eyes. "You're not the only one who's nervous about this," he assured the Cajun. Unexpectedly, Remy's fingers tightened around his in reassurance. "But I want this to work, Rem."

"Cher," Remy whispered hesitantly. "Will try and make you happy."

Warren smiled, amazed at Remy's reaction. He really wanted to kiss those lips, but couldn't. They belonged to a man and he still wasn't comfortable with that. No matter what Bobby had said, he needed time to convince himself that this was right. So he rubbed Remy's fingers instead. "Think you can leave this afternoon? Your father mentioned that the assassins are pressuring him to take action."

"Oui, doctor just renewed de bandage… only need to get dressed and…"

"Woa, wait, Cajun," Warren said in an oddly fond tone. "Changed your bandages? You’re still confined to bed then?"

"Oui, but don' worry. I can take care of myself just fine."

"I don't doubt that," Warren whispered softly. "But I want to make sure we take your meds, bandages and other stuff you might need with us. I'll ask your dad to…"

"Ange?" Remy brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed the back of Warren's hand. "Please, just sit wid me for a while until I can believe you're real?"

Those luscious lips burned Warren's skin. It was such a simple gesture, yet filled with passionate affection. "Sure," Warren whispered in a hoarse tone. "I'll sit with you."

Remy closed his eyes, placing their hands over his heart. "Can' believe dis."

"You better do!" Warren whispered in an oddly emotional tone. "I'm here and won't leave. Why don't you get some rest? You look like you haven't slept that great lately," he suggested and tucked his love in. My love, Warren thought pleased. It had been Bobby who'd first referred to Remy as his love and now… It seemed so improper to call Remy that, the Cajun being a man, but… maybe one day he'd be able to take that step. "Sleep, crazy Cajun."

Remy caught the affectionate tone and smiled. "Not plannin' on sleepin', ange. Not as long as you're here… want to listen to you breathin', feel your pulse underneat' my fingertips." But against his will his body relaxed and Remy dozed off, never completely falling asleep, but resting nonetheless.

///

"Ya knew Warren would be back!" Logan realized suddenly as they walked into Jean-Luc's private rooms. "Ya bastard, ya! Ya counted on him comin' back to New Orleans!"

"Oui." Jean-Luc grinned. "Warren needed time to accept dis." His tone grew serious again. "You should have seen de way Warren acted when Remy took dat dagger for him. He refused to let me hold my son, raving dat Remy couldn't die, dat he wouldn't allow it. It was pretty clear to me what was going on. Mais I hoped dat Warren wouldn't run and accept it instead." Tired, he massaged his brow. It'd been a long day.

"Yer confident they'll work out?" Logan asked questioningly. They'd passed Remy's room as they'd made their way here and only soft noises had emerged from the room, which had assured them everything was fine.

"Oui, I'm sure. It'll take dem a while to figure deir new relationship out, mais… when Remy loves, he loves unconditionally. Dey'll also have to deal with de physical aspect. Right now, every boundary Remy has ever set, all his defense mechanisms are down. I'll talk to Warren before dey leave. Maybe I can offer him some advice." Jean-Luc released a deep sigh. "I'm tired," he admitted. "Mais all dere's left to do is to get dem to de airport in one piece. Assassins are hard to control and will try to kill dem no matter what dey promise."

"Why don't ya get some sleep?" Logan suggested and wrapped an arm around the Cajun's waist, understanding Jean-Luc's fears. He worried about Remy as well. There was only one difference. "Kid's strong 'nough to find a way to deal with this shit. He's a survivor. " Suddenly, dominating his new lover wasn't that important any more. Offering comfort was. "We can play later."

"Play?" Jean-Luc chuckled, relieved that Logan understood. "Mais you're right. I could do with a nap."

Logan grinned. "And maybe a massage will ease that tension in yer shoulders?" He'd love to work on that tense body, work on tight knots and strained muscles. "Just wanna make ya feel good, Cajun."

"Are you offering?" Jean-Luc asked relieved. Oui, he needed rest. The prospect of Logan giving him a thorough massage made his shoulders slump forward. He was too tired to keep up the pretence.

Taken aback by the sudden fatigue in Jean-Luc's eyes Logan brushed the Cajun's lips. "Yeah, I'm offerin'." Logan nodded his head as he led his new lover to bed. "Don't worry 'bout the kids. If something goes wrong, I'll tell ya." His hearing was finely tuned. Right now, Remy and Warren weren't talking and their heartbeats had settled down. "They're okay," Logan reassured Jean-Luc. "Give them some space, Cajun."

Jean-Luc nodded his head and dropped face forward on his bed. Sometimes, he felt so damn out of control!

"Lemme take care of ya, Cajun. I know yer used to callin' the shots, but ya can't be on top of the game all the time," Logan mumbled. Yeah, he understood Jean-Luc, understood Jean-Luc's ingrained instincts to not let go. "Just this once, Cajun, lemme be here for ya."

"Sounds tempting," Jean-Luc admitted sleepily. He didn't react when one claw slipped beneath his shirt, cutting it in two. Logan would never injure him.

Logan stripped off Jean-Luc's shirt. He planned on taking his time with the Cajun. "Ya need a break from life, darlin'."

Strong hands rubbed soothingly over his back and Jean-Luc rested his head on his hands as Logan straddled his lower back. "Massage oil is in de drawer," Jean-Luc informed his lover. "Sometimes my bones remember how old dey are… My knee has got the habit of…"

"Shst, just relax, Cajun," Logan whispered soothingly, finding the small bottle. He poured a generous amount onto his hands, warming the liquid before allowing it to come into contact with Jean-Luc's skin. "Gonna take care of ya," he promised again. "Ya can trust me, Cajun."

"I know I can… otherwise you wouldn't even be here," Jean-Luc whispered blissfully as Logan's hands kneaded a tight knot of muscles beneath his shoulder blade. The way Logan reacted to his unspoken needs was quite a surprise to Jean-Luc and suddenly he wondered if this could be more than just sexual attraction. Mon Dieu, I am too old to get seriously involved.

"I said, relax!" Logan whispered into Jean-Luc's ear as he leaned in closer. "Yer even worse than me!"

"Assassins can be planning an attack right now," Jean-Luc pointed out to him. "What am I doing here? I should be…"

"Cut it out, Cajun!" Logan grabbed Jean-Luc's wrists as the Cajun tried to get to his feet. "Ya need some down time, darlin'."

"Logan, you don't understand!" Jean-Luc cursed, realizing Logan was too heavy for him to throw off.

"I understand that we're safe in yer house…"

"Oui, mais…."

"Stop it." Logan bent forward and roughly kissed the back of Jean-Luc's neck. "I won't let ya go."

"Why?" Jean-Luc stopped resisting, knowing it would be futile.

"Because ya need… this," and he softly bit the Cajun's neck. "Ya need to relax."

"Mon Dieu," Jean-Luc panted, suddenly realizing that he was lying on his stomach, with Logan on top of him. It was the perfect position for Logan to take him. How had he gotten into this position? De massage…

"It's okay, Cajun. Ya can let go now. I'll prove it to ya, want me to?" Jean-Luc's body twitched beneath his. "Tell me to back off and I will." But in his heart Logan hoped that Jean-Luc could let go for just a moment. "Responsibilities are killin' ya, Cajun."

It was true. Jean-Luc could finally admit that 80 years of trying to keep the Guild together had taken their toll on him. Maybe he really wanted to let go. "What do you want to do?"

"First, we'll make sure this is no misunderstandin'," Logan whispered, releasing the Cajun's wrists and returning to the massage. "You need a good fuck, darlin' and ya know it."

Jean-Luc shivered, hearing it phrased like that. "Never let anyone do dat," Jean-Luc admitted nervously. He'd never allowed another man to take him.

"Figures." Logan wasn't surprised at all. "Ya've got to trust me, Cajun. Trust me to look after ya. I'll call the shots, with yer best interest in mind, but ya'll have to let go. Ya won't be able to control this." Logan was already painfully hard. The prospect of burying himself in Jean-Luc body made his cock throb with want.

It was a frightening concept and that was why Jean-Luc had to do it. He'd always taught Remy to face his fears and this time it was his turn. "Condom and lube," he whispered, setting his boundaries.

"We don't need condoms, darlin'," Logan said softly, finally kneading some tension out of the Cajun's back. "My healin' factor will take care of that. I won't give ya any STD's. And I wanna feel ya, so no barriers. We're gonna to need lube though to prepare ya. Ya got any?"

"I'm not sure," Jean-Luc raised his head and looked at his lover. "Mebbe."

"When was the last time ya… Damn ya, Cajun!" Logan choked up, reading the truth in his eyes. "That long?"

"Fifteen years… since I last had a lover…" Jean-Luc admitted. "De Guild…"

"Ya need to get a life." Logan got to his feet and looked about.

"De bathroom… medicine cabinet," Jean-Luc said, realizing Logan was searching for lube.

Logan disappeared into the bathroom, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Somehow it hurt, knowing that this gorgeous man had destroyed his personal life because of the Guild. He picked up towels and the lube and returned to the bedroom. "Ya found them in Remy's room huh?" he realized, knowing with certainty that Jean-Luc would never buy them for personal use. "Fifteen years… " Logan whispered. "Shit."

Logan stared at the thief, who lay naked on the bed. Clothes were neatly draped over the chair. Logan wondered about the change in attitude. Only yesterday Jean-Luc had been all over him, fucking him senseless. Now, the Cajun seemed shy. Logan threw the lube on the bed and realized that Jean-Luc hadn't moved. The Cajun was still on his stomach, waiting for him to make a move.

Jean-Luc felt oddly nervous now that he'd agreed to Logan taking the lead. But somehow it thrilled him, knowing that for once he could be weak.

"Ya've got a great piece of ass."

Strangely enough the compliment pleased him. Jean-Luc watched the Canadian. It felt odd to lie here naked, while Logan was still fully clothed. "Are you going to take off dose clothes?"

"In a moment, Cajun. No need to hurry. Clothes on skin have a certain feel too." Logan kneeled on the bed, taking in the gorgeous man in front of him. "Ya want to go all the way?" He wanted Jean-Luc's explicit permission first.

Jean-Luc nodded his head. "Don't know why, mais I trust you." But it still scared him, surrendering like this. "What do you have in mind, Logan?"

"First off, stop talkin'. Ya can't control me that way. Just accept what I am offerin'." Slowly, Logan moved closer to the thief. He cocked his head to study Jean-Luc's dilated pupils. "I want ya to go insane with pleasure," he whispered and kissed Jean-Luc's neck.

Jean-Luc quavered, as the fabric of Logan's shirt rubbed against his bare skin. His nipples immediately turned erect and a slow pounding started in his groin.

"Turn on to yer back," Logan instructed. Jean-Luc obeyed and Logan straddled his partner's hips. Logan's lips and tongue trailed down to his lover's collarbone. "That's it. Just relax, Cajun."

Jean-Luc's hands turned into fists; otherwise he'd try to throw Logan off. But he'd consented to Logan being the dominant one and he couldn't change the rules of the game now. Logan spread his legs, opening him up and Jean-Luc hissed his surprise. He'd never before felt so completely vulnerable.

"Don't," Logan admonished him. "Lemme take care of yer needs. I know how hard this on ya," he reassured the trembling thief. He'd planned to take Jean-Luc hard and deep, but now… things had changed. This is no longer 'bout fuckin', Logan realized. It's more.

Quickly, Logan removed his shirt and slapped Jean-Luc's hands away as the Cajun tried to unzip Logan's trousers. "Don't make me tie you down. Would be a little too much for yer first time," Logan whispered teasingly. The image of Jean-Luc tied down and willing made Logan pant.

"Mon Dieu," Jean-Luc moaned, as Logan rolled his nipples between his callused fingertips. Involuntarily, Jean-Luc arched his back in invitation.

"Easy, Cajun," Logan said reassuringly. "I know what ya want… Lemme set the pace." His hands roamed the Cajun's agile body, pinching an erect nipple hard. Finally, Logan gave in and his fingers trailed down to the dark pubic hair. "Yer big," Logan whispered approvingly and remembered that he'd taken Jean-Luc's length yesterday.

"Please?" Jean-Luc whispered. There was too much heat in his body and Logan hardly touched him! Shamelessly, Jean-Luc rubbed his cock against the denim of Logan's jeans.

"So soon?" Logan teased and allowed his fingers to curl around his lover's erect shaft, which dripped with pre-ejaculate. "We might not need lube after all!"

"Lube… "Jean-Luc repeated deliriously. He wouldn't allow Logan to take him without it. Although he was wild with lust, he realized that Logan could do serious damage without using lubrication.

"I know, darlin'. I'm just teasin' ya!" Slowly, Logan stroked his lover's cock, massaging the heavy sac and inhaling his scent. Then he remembered something from their first time together. Jean-Luc had loved to talk dirty, so maybe…"Ya like this? Me fistin' ya? Touchin' ya? Are ya ready for me to fuck ya?"

"Oui," Jean-Luc whispered abandoned. It was hard to believe he was letting Logan do this. The slow strokes were driving him mad. He wanted more, faster, harder, but then… a slick finger teased against his cleft, touching his entrance and Jean-Luc couldn't help but open his legs in invitation.

Logan grinned and covered his fingers with his lover's pre-ejaculate. Slowly, he fisted Jean-Luc's cock, denying him what the Cajun wanted most, release. Leaning in closer, he claimed his lover's lips, bruising them, forcing Jean-Luc to part his teeth and Logan plundered the inside of that delicious mouth.

Jean-Luc's body froze as one finger slipped deeper inside, slithery and determined, searching for his prostate. Logan's full weight pressed him down and he moaned his lust into his lover's mouth.

"Ya like that?" Logan released bruised lips, trying to arouse his lover even more. "Ya also like talkin' dirty, don't ya?" Pulling back, a second finger joined the first. "Gonna take my time fuckin' ya, Cajun. Yer still a virgin, remember? But soon I'll nail ya to the mattress and posses ya completely." Jean-Luc had prepped him as well and Logan wanted to do the same thing for the Cajun . He didn't want to hurt his lover.

Jean-Luc opened his eyes and they locked with Logan's. Giving up control scared him. He could only hope that Logan would stop should Jean-Luc say no..

"It's okay, Cajun," Logan said soothingly, this time nibbling on his lover's earlobe. "One more finger and then we'll get busy…" Unnoticed, he unzipped his jeans. His cock bobbed free, fully erect and throbbing.

Jean-Luc howled as a third finger opened him up. "Make me come?"

"Not yet…" Logan grinned wickedly and crawled down the Cajun's body and then closed his lips around his lover's throbbing cock.

Jean-Luc bucked at the sensation, clawing his fingers into the sheet. Merde, this man was driving him insane! Him, the patriarch of the Guild! But right now he didn't care. All he cared about was finding release. The dual stimulation was almost too much. Logan's fingers were stretching him and the Canadian's mouth was around his aching cock.

Logan's tongue slithered over the head of his lover's cock and he even scraped his teeth along the slippery shaft. One hand moved to keep Jean-Luc from thrusting too deeply into his mouth. Judging from his lover's breathing, Jean-Luc was close to release. His fingers still slid in and out of the hot trembling hole and he sucked Jean-Luc in the same rhythm.

Suddenly, Jean-Luc's world exploded. He released a strangled yelp and shot his come into Logan's hot mouth. But the fingers were still inside him, stroking his prostate. Jean-Luc cried out helplessly.

Logan swallowed lover's come, curious to taste it and then let go. Looking at Jean-Luc's face Logan saw a lust filled fever in the Cajun's eyes. Crooking one finger, he increased the pressure on his lover's prostate. Jean-Luc's face contorted and Logan knew it was time to take the next step. "Gonna fuck ya, babe," he whispered and considered their position for a moment. The bed wouldn't do and his eyes came to rest on the desk in the corner of the room.

Jean-Luc never noticed that Logan slicked his cock with lube. All Jean-Luc knew were that Logan's fingers were still inside him, and he felt like losing it completely. "Fuck me den… just end dis!" Jean-Luc pleaded, out of his mind.

Logan growled possessively. "Damn ya, Cajun. I want ya," Logan whispered, hoping the lube would ease his way in. He had to get inside Jean-Luc's body now!

Jean-Luc grabbed onto Logan's arms as his lover suddenly lifted him from the bed. Quickly, he wrapped his legs around Logan's waist, relieved that the pressure on his prostate was momentarily gone. Oh, Logan's fingers were still scissoring inside his passage, but the Canadian didn't have the time to concentrate on stroking his prostate.

After carrying his lover over to the desk, Logan quickly cleared it, sweeping all items on to the floor.

In his groggy state of mind, Jean-Luc registered that reports were sent flying all over the place. "You're making a mess!"

Logan didn't reply, just lay his lover down on the desk. Jean-Luc's legs were still wrapped around his waist and Logan took a moment to savour the sight. Damp hair was plastered to Jean-Luc's face and the Cajun's hands had found a hold on the edge of the desk. "Yer beautiful," he whispered honestly and kissed his lover, while one hand trailed down the Cajun's flat abdomen. "I hope yer ready."

"Ready for… " Jean-Luc forgot to breathe when Logan pushed inside, claiming him. He threw his head back and rested it on the desk. One of Logan's hands supported his ass, lifting him a little to change the angle of penetration. "Mon Dieu, you bastard… what are you doing?"

"Fuckin' Jean-Luc LeBeau," Logan replied affectionately, thrusting deeply and setting a slow, seductive rhythm.

"And not… de patriarch… " Jean-Luc whispered in sudden understanding, finally seeing this gift for what it was. Maybe, he could let go. "Want it hard," he whispered, finally surrendering completely.

"I know that," Logan concentrated on their rhythm. Looking down, he growled deeply, as his cock disappeared into his lover's tight passage, time and time again. "Yer a good fuck. The best I ever had. Ya got such a tight little ass…" he whispered, knowing how much Jean-Luc loved to hear this. "But yer too good. Gonna come inside ya every moment now. How does that feel? Knowin' I'm gonna pump you full with come?" One of his claws caressed Jean-Luc's nipples.

Jean-Luc shivered, as that deadly claw hovered over his nipples. Logan's balls slapped hard against his ass. He refused to close his eyes and sought out Logan's instead. The feral expression in them made him breathless. Logan's thrusts pushed him over the table, rubbing his back and buttocks against the wood of the desk. Merde, this felt so good!

"Here I come!" Logan exclaimed and leaned in closer to bury his teeth in Jean-Luc's neck, drawing blood. With one more firm thrust he reached orgasm, releasing his come into the Cajun's shaking body.

Jean-Luc finally lost it after all, screaming and scratching the desk with his fingernails. Logan was so deep inside him that Jean-Luc could hardly breathe!

Logan slumped forward on the Cajun's body, licking the blood he'd drawn. One claw rested on his lover's stomach, caressing the skin there. Damn, he hadn't known how much Jean-Luc turned him on!

"Get off," Jean-Luc whispered exhausted, as Logan pressed him down. "Can't breathe."

Logan reacted at once, alarmed by the tone in his lover's voice. As he looked at Jean-Luc, Logan froze. Droplets of blood dripped down the Cajun's neck. "I'm gonna pull out." Quickly, Logan withdrew from his lover's body. "Are yer okay? I didn't want to hurt ya, darlin'." A fast inspection showed that the Cajun's legs had cramped up. Logan slipped his arms beneath the shaking body and carried Jean-Luc back to bed. In silence, Logan lay his lover down and then joined him, pulling the comforter over their bodies. "Talk to me, Cajun." Jean-Luc's stare worried Logan. "Are ya still with me?"

"Oui," escaped Jean-Luc's lips. Suddenly, nimble fingers massaged his legs, releasing the tension. "Merci," he whispered thankfully.

In silence, Logan worked on the legs, until the tension was gone. "Sorry 'bout that, but I love doin' it on a desk."

"Logan?" Jean-Luc summoned his strength and pulled the Canadian close to his chest.

A little confused, Logan met his lover's eyes. "Shit, I lost control… did I hurt ya?"

"I'll be sore for a few days," Jean-Luc realized, "And Remy might give me funny looks because of the way I walk, mais it was worth it." It still baffled him that he'd reacted like that, had given himself so completely to Logan. "It felt good, letting go…"

"Shit, I'm really worried that I hurt ya." Logan wasn't satisfied yet and briefly pulled back the covers.

"What are you doing, cher? I'm getting cold," Jean-Luc protested softly.

"Just a sec," Logan said worried and cleaned his lover up, looking for blood. But all he encountered was semen. Finally reassured, he slipped back underneath the comforter. As he looked at his lover, Logan grinned. "Ya look like yer on drugs!"

Jean-Luc returned the grin. "I could get addicted to dis drug." Then, in a quieter tone he added, "Merci for showing me."

"What?" Logan tucked his lover's head underneath his chin and stroked Jean-Luc's back with long strokes.

"Dat I can let go… dat I can trust you. I know dis isn't part of de deal, mais could you stay a little longer?" Only too soon the real world would come crushing in on him.

"Sure, darlin'."

And don't call me darling!!" Jean-Luc whispered tired, listening to Logan's heartbeat. "What 'bout Remy and Warren? Can you hear dem?"

"Heartbeats are regular… no talking. I guess they’re just enjoying the company… like I am."

"Mebbe I'll take dat nap now," Jean-Luc whispered sleepily. "Wake me in 30 minutes? So much to do… book a flight… talk to Warren…"

"Go to sleep, Jean-Luc," Logan said affectionately, kissing his eyes close. "Go to sleep."

///

A soft knock on the door made Warren aware of the complete silence in the room. The only thing audible was their slow breathing. His first glance was for Remy, whose red on black eyes twinkled at him. "Are you okay?"

"More dan 'kay," Remy whispered, still in disbelief. "Expected you to be gone when I opened my eyes."

That sad admission cut through Warren's heart. "I'm not going to run out on you again. Remy," Warren promised passionately. "I won't make the same mistake twice."

Another persistent knock on the door disturbed their comfortable silence.

"Oui?" Remy said eventually, realizing that Warren wasn't reacting.

"I need to talk to ya, kid," Logan announced and strolled inside, hiding every trace of his passionate lovemaking just an hour ago. Jean-Luc was still asleep in his bed and Logan was resolved to help out. Casting a glance at Warren, Logan grinned. They're holdin' hands!

"Want do you want?" Warren said defensively.

"Yer takin' the kid to Ireland?" Logan asked to make sure, doubting that Jean-Luc had to book a flight. "Takin' yer own plane?"

"Yes," Warren decided to back off, remembering Logan's lack of hostility earlier. "I already called the pilot. We can leave after dark."

"I suggest ya move just before sunset. Assassins will be less alert then. I'll take ya to the airport myself." Logan smiled at Remy, pleased with the changed expression in the Cajun's eyes. If Remy's just as passionate as his old man, Warren might realize too late he's in for a wild ride. But Jean-Luc is right. It'll take the kid a long time to get over the Antiquary… but he did it before. He can do it 'gain.

Unexpectedly, Remy cleared his throat to voice a request. He knew he had to leave because of the Assassins. Don' want to get poppa into trouble!

"What is it?" Warren asked, as Remy's fingers tightened around his.

"I want to go to St. Louis Cat'edral first… say adieu to père Etienne."

It took Warren a moment to realize whom Remy was talking about. "The priest who helped you? Are you sure you want to do that? I mean, I understand you want to say thanks and stuff, but…" Warren looked to Logan for help. "We should leave the city ASAP. The assassins will make their move soon."

"Please?" Remy said in a soft tone. "It's important to me." Maybe it was a subconscious way of testing his new love. "He saved my life."

Slowly, it dawned on Warren that he was no longer capable of denying Remy a bloody thing! "Can it be done?" he asked Logan.

"Are ya sure? It's risky. They might suspect ya wanna go back."

"I'm sure," Warren replied before Remy got a chance to plead again.

"I can't make any promises, kid," Logan growled grumpily. He still had some time left to prepare. "So, what's the deal with the two of ya?" He felt rather confident that they'd worked things out. Although he didn't really like Warren, he wanted Remy to be happy.

"He loves me," Remy quipped barely audible. "Can you believe dat?" A radiant smile surfaced on his face.

Logan fought his grin, but lost the struggle. A dirty, fat grin crawled over his face.

Warren's skin turned to goose flesh seeing that grin. Please, don’t embarrass me here! It's hard enough to declare your love to someone you deserted days ago!

"Yer goin' to Ireland together then?" Logan loved seeing Warren squirm.

"Oui," Remy replied, but then his gaze darkened. "Or did you change your mind?" he asked Warren in a tiny tone.

The sudden doubt and fear in Remy's tone worried Warren. "You're coming with me, crazy Cajun!" he declared passionately.

Relieved, Remy sighed. "Still can' believe dis," he explained awkwardly.

Logan figured this little misunderstanding was his cue to set things in motion. "Wings, Jean-Luc wants to talk to ya 'fore ya leave." He smiled, seeing Remy's disappointed expression. "I'll help ya pack, kid. If ya really want to make a stop at St. Louis cathedral we got to leave earlier."

"Help me pack?" Remy mumbled stunned. He'd arrived here with nothing but the clothes on his back!

"Jean-Luc wants ya to take some things with ya, kid. Like…" His eyes searched the room and Logan nodded his head, picking up a photograph of Jean-Luc hugging his son. It was the only pic in the room. "Like this one." Personal things would help Remy get over the fact that he'd had to leave New Orleans.

Understanding Logan's intentions Remy gave in. "Dere are some t'ings I would like to take wid me," he admitted. Like the notebook he'd been writing in.

"Get yer ass into Jean-Luc's study," Logan chided Warren. "The man is waitin' for ya!" He noticed the obvious reluctance with which Warren let go of Remy's hand. Damn, Cajun is right. They might work out! he realized pleased. But he also knew that Warren would have a tough time learning how to deal with Remy's fears. No matter how tough the kid acted, the hurt the Antiquary had inflicted was still tearing Remy apart.

"I'll be back in a sec," Warren promised and squeezed Remy's hand one last time before letting go. "We got all the time we need once we're in Ireland."

"Lookin' forward to dat," Remy admitted softly, wondering if they'd survive the first days. He'd probably drive Warren mad and Remy wasn't sure their fragile relationship could take such strain. Hell, he wasn't sure about anything anymore!

Warren gave Remy an odd look, almost guessing his love's thoughts. He knew this would be hard on both of them. There were some issues he had to work on himself!

///

"Sit down," Jean-Luc commanded thoughtfully. He wanted a moment in private before hell broke loose when they'd try to smuggle Warren and Remy out of the house. Luckily, he could entrust their safety to his lover. Assassins will try to kill dem! Merde! Remy is so young, he mused saddened, wondering how old Warren was. Even dis one is only a child.

"Remy still wants me," Warren said to break the silence. "I apologized, told him why I came back and he agreed to go to Ireland with me. Or are you going to break your word and stop us?" He couldn't wait to leave New Orleans so Remy would be his exclusively. Yes, it was selfish, but he wanted to leave this shit behind and finally focus on healing Remy's emotional scars.

"I won't stop you," Jean-Luc said pleased. "Mais if you hurt him." The threat hung unfinished in the room.

"I won't." Warren repeated his promise. "But… I'm nervous… scared…" he admitted confused. "I don't know how to… you know… touch him… It's the first time I'm in love with a man and I'm still trying to get used to that idea. I'm not comfortable with touching him yet and then there are the things you told me about the way he was abused…"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about dat," Jean-Luc felt comfortably relaxed thanks to Logan's 'care' Merde, he really knew what I needed! Feel like I'm 20 again, not an old man!

"What do you mean?" Confused, Warren locked eyes with Jean-Luc. "You already told me…"

Jean-Luc cut him short, knowing their time was limited and he wanted to spend those last precious minutes with his son. "You need to know dis," he said in a heavy tone, not looking forward to sharing this, but now that they'd taken the next step, Warren needed to be aware of Remy's often unusual behavior.

"Need to know what?" Warren said questioningly, suddenly seeing the unease in Jean-Luc's eyes. It was the first time that the patriarch seemed nervous. "Is it about Remy?"

"Oui," Jean-Luc leaned forward, trying to catch Warren's eyes. "You need to be careful when… setting dat first step to become intimate."

Warren flushed. No way! He can't possibly want to discuss this! After taking a deep breath, Warren asked, "What are you trying to tell me?"

"It took Remy years to understand de difference between love and sex." Jean-Luc hoped the young man would understand. This was so important! "You must understand." He got to his feet and walked over to the window, fondly looking at the craters in the garden.

Puzzled, Warren waited. Oh shit! This probably has to do with the abuse Remy suffered as a kid!

"I told you how Remy behaved when he first came to dis household." Jean-Luc clasped his hands behind his back and turned to face Warren.

"Yes, you told me." Warren couldn't help it. Shivers ran down his spine.

"I also told you dat he asked me why I hadn't ordered him to pleasure me," Jean-Luc continued in a steady tone.

Damn, I hate to discuss this behind Remy's back! Warren cleared his throat. "Yes, you did."

Jean-Luc walked over to him and looked into Warren's eyes. "You should know dat Remy came to my room dat night, completely naked and offered himself to me." Rage built in Jean-Luc's voice. "He was 12," he said in obvious sadness.

"What?" Warren jumped up from his chair, but Jean-Luc's hands kept him down. "Remy did what?" He couldn't understand why a kid would do such a thing.

And Jean-Luc understood that confusion. "Listen, dis is important for both of you." He pushed Warren back in to the chair and sat on his heels. "Remy thought dat I wanted his body in return for food and shelter. He was so scared dat I would throw him back onto de streets dat he reacted de only way he knew, by trying to appease me. De Antiquary…" His voice trailed off. He didn't want to go through this again.

"Are you telling me that he might try to pull off the same thing with me once things get rough?" Warren wasn't sure what to make of this admission, but he trembled with anger, much like Jean-Luc was.

"Don't rush dis. Take your time to work on de relationship," Jean-Luc advised. "De things, which de Antiquary did to Remy are still very close and very real to Remy. He dealt with it once, oui, but dis time you will have to be dere for him, be his support."

"How? How do I do that?" Resolved, Warren looked to Jean-Luc for guidance. "I refuse to mess this up."

"Make sure your touch is gentle," Jean-Luc started softly and took a deep breath. "When you're angry with him, don't shut him out or give him de silent treatment. Make sure he knows you disapprove of his actions, but not of him as a person. When you're angry and you feel de need to go for a walk take him with you. You don’t have to talk, just don't give him de feeling that he can't reach you."

Warren nodded his head. "My dad did that to me. Shut me out, didn't talk to me for days… I won't do that to Remy."

"Try to get him to remove de shackles. Remy's scared. Scared dat de charm will make you hurt him. You'll have to prove your love over and over again." Jean-Luc saw a spark of understanding. Maybe his son had chosen well after all. "One more thing…"

"Yes?" Warren shifted in the chair, still uncomfortable with the subject, but he realized he needed all the help he could get in dealing with Remy's fears.

"Should you decide to make love…" Amused, Jean-Luc noticed the blush on Warren's face "Be alert."

"Why?" Warren slowly realized just how fucking hard this would be on them!

"The moment Remy reacts like he's not mentally present during your love making, stop. It's one of his ways to distance himself. He'll offer himself to you, but he won't feel the need for the sexual act himself. Also, if you want to return your pleasure and he refuses, stop. It's an old shame, believing dat he doesn't deserve equal pleasure."

"What do I do when that happens?" Warren knew it'd happen. He was realistic enough to know that Remy was still battling his past and that there was no magical cure for childhood abuse. Strange, he'd never thought he'd ever end up with a lover who'd suffered that much. Usually, he avoided even befriending these people!

"Hold him. Tell him dat his love and well being is more important to you dan having sex."

Warren's blush turned crimson red, hearing Jean-Luc phrase it like that. "I understand that now… that there are more important things in a relationship than sex." Somehow this felt like the father-son talk his own dad had never given him. "How do you know all this stuff?" he asked bewildered.

"Because I held Remy when he asked me why his lovers only wanted to have sex and den left. He never realized how much he feels and acts like a victim. He's an easy target."

Warren's mouth had gone dry while listening to Jean-Luc. "Can I call you… should we run into such problems?"

"Oui, always and take dese with you." Jean-Luc collected a small pile of books that sat on his desk. "Dese helped me gain insight into Remy's way of thinking. De books are about child abuse and ways of healing."

"Shit man," Warren mumbled, accepting the books. "You're dead serious about this!"

"I am," Jean-Luc confirmed. "I can only hope dat for Remy's sake you won't run away again. I doubt he can deal with you deserting him like dat again. Not after you came back… if it's any consolation," Jean-Luc patted Warren's shoulder, "Remy's given me more joy and love dan anyone else ever has. He'll love you unconditionally."

///

"Are ye packed?" Logan growled and put the two bags near the door. "Hey, don't ya dare and…" In a heartbeat he was at Remy's side, steadying the Cajun, who'd managed to dress himself. "I'll get ya a coat. Now sit down."

Remy grinned as Logan hovered protectively over him. "You're 'most as bad as poppa! I ain' a child!"

"Compared to me ya are!" Logan countered and draped a coat over Remy's shoulders. He smelled the slight fever on the young man. "Don't move 'bout too much!" he warned.

Remy was tempted to stick out his tongue to taunt Logan, but reconsidered. "Can I talk to poppa before we have to leave?"

"Mais oui, petite." Jean-Luc walked into the room. Warren was only a few steps behind him. I scared Warren, he realized, taking in Warren's hooded expression. Bien, now dat he knows de signs he will be alert!

Remy's eyes sparkled at the sight of his poppa and love. He'd missed them both.

Logan raised an eyebrow, noticing the serious look on Warren's face. He had to admit that Wings had changed a lot during these last few days.

"Can I have a moment with my son?" Jean-Luc demanded, his eyes shoeing them from the room.

Warren was reluctant to leave, but wanted Jean-Luc and Remy to have this moment together. It'd be hard on Remy to leave his father.

"C'mon, kiddo." Logan pulled Warren along, still wondering why Warren's heartbeat was that fast. Something had definitely upset Wings. "What's going on?" he asked the moment the door closed behind him.

Warren pointed to a small pile of books on the floor. "He gave me these, along with instructions on how to… " he paused to find the right words, "how to see through Remy's fears and pretence. I never realized it was this bad." Suddenly, he didn't care that Wolverine didn't like him. He just needed someone who'd listen to him. Jean-Luc's talk had freaked him out.

"Just listen to the titles," Warren picked up the books and opened them. Angry red marks indicated sections Jean-Luc had found of particular interest. "Be aware of danger," he read and went on to the next title, "The battered child. A home in the streets, street children… or this one… Ghosts in the bedroom! Fuck!" he hissed upset.

Logan swallowed hard. "I understand that this freaks ya out, but ya better be prepared. Ya should know what this did to Remy."

"I know that," Warren sighed, suddenly feeling terribly calm. "But I'm so mad at the old bastard who did this to him!"

"Want me to track him down for ya?" Logan offered. "I wanna word with that monster myself."

Warren was indecisive. "I just want this to stop to mess with Remy's head."

"I'll take care of it," Logan promised. He'd also some personal questions, which he wanted to ask Jean-Luc about this Antiquary character! "Just hang in there, Wings."

"I will," Warren stated resolved. "One way or the other, I… no, Remy and I are going to deal with this!"

///

Jean-Luc sat down next to Remy and studied his son's body language. Remy seemed comfortable, but also impatient. "I'm so sorry," he offered, hating the fact that the Guild was once more pushing his buttons. Mais not much longer! Once Remy was in safety, he'd make some decisions concerning his life and the Guild!

"I understand, poppa." Remy smiled saddened. "Guild always comes first."

"NON!" Jean-Luc whispered in dread. "It shouldn't be like dat, son."

"I really understand," Remy offered again. "And Warren needs someone to look after him…" he hinted mischievously. "I'll be fine, poppa…"

"Don't try and act brave with me, Remy," Jean-Luc chided him, seeing the sadness behind the mask. "I know you too well!"

"I'll miss you," Remy admitted in a tired tone. "Felt so good to have you close."

"I'll call, visit you in Ireland…"

"Poppa," Remy shook his head and smiled weakly. "We bod know you can' keep dose promises."

"I will find a way!" Jean-Luc insisted. "Logan will take you to de airport. Are you sure that you want to go with Warren?"

"Oui," Remy whispered, squeezing his father's hand tightly. "Feel like I've been given a second chance…"

"Don't shut him out when de pain starts," Jean-Luc warned him.

Remy lowered his eyes. "Will try, mais I still feel 'shamed for…"

"You didn't do anything wrong," Jean-Luc reminded him. "De Antiquary did." He had so hoped this was behind Remy and now…! "I love you, Remy," he whispered, knowing how much Remy needed to hear it, over and over again.

"Je t'aime," Remy replied, as if in prayer. "Always will, poppa."

"Let me walk you to de car." Jean-Luc forced back his tears, hoping Warren had packed the books into one of their bags. Remy didn’t need to see them yet. "Send me a post card? Call me? Write me?"

Remy nodded his head. "Will have a lot to write 'bout ," he hinted, as the door opened and Warren came into view. "Got your blessin' on dis?" he asked softly.

"Oui, petite." Jean-Luc kissed his son's brow. "You've got to get moving…"

"Don' want to leave," Remy whispered softly.

Jean-Luc caught Warren's eyes, telling him to take over. Once Warren had a tight hold on his son, Jean-Luc stepped back. A last smile and Remy was heading towards the car. Merde, this hurt!

"The assassins won't hurt them," Logan promised, seeing Jean-Luc's worried eyes.

"I trust you," Jean-Luc replied, losing the fight to choke back his tears.

Remy held onto Warren, feeling poppa's eyes in his back and he turned around. Jean-Luc's eyes were watered and Remy waved good-bye.

"Remy? Are you all right?" Warren pulled Remy close as the Cajun almost tripped over his own feet. He didn't want to break the magic between Jean-Luc and Remy but… "We need to leave."

Remy slipped into the car after looking at Jean-Luc one last time. It'd take him a long time to forget the unshed tears in his poppa's eyes. "Ange?"

Warren quickly slid into place next to Remy, steadying his lover with one arm. Although Remy's physical closeness unnerved him a little, he could deal with it. There was nothing sexual in helping his love sit upright because he was wounded. If Remy were kissing him… now that would be a reason to panic! "Everything will be all right. I promise." The words slipped from Warren's lips, before he'd realized it. Warren peeked at Remy's eyes. The obvious hurt in them also tore at his soul. Maybe a distraction would help, would make it easier on Remy. "You still want to go to St. Louis' first?"

"Oui," Remy said determined. "Want to say good-bye to père Etienne!"

(continues in part 2)