Title: Illuminations

Author: Xanax

Rating: PG-13

Fandom: X-Men Comicverse

Pairing: Logan/Remy

Permission to post: Anyone who wants it, feel free, just give me credit.

Disclaimer: As much as I wish it weren’t true, Logan and Remy aren’t mine; I’m just having a bit of fun. They belong to Marvel, not me.

Summary: A look at life between parts 6 and 7 of Crucify Me.



Illuminations
By Xanax

~ New Orleans – 1990 ~

He’s barely been in my life more than a couple of weeks and already I feel like I’ve known him my entire life. This parenting thing is getting easier; I just let Remy take the lead and follow from there. He’s still skittish, but then I hadn’t expected any different…it’s a miracle that he even lets me near him, let alone trusts me enough to sleep by my side at night and hold my hand during the day.

We’re taking things one day at a time, feeling our way along as best we can, but I think this just might work. We’re both speaking a sort of pidgin hybrid of English and French, and I’m sure we both sound like idiots, but I couldn’t care less. All that matters is that he trusts me enough to open up to me.

I know a lot of things about him now that I didn’t know when he first showed up on my doorstep; important things, trivial things, things that make me laugh, things that make me cry…

I know he has a middle name (Etienne), but no last name…

That he loves chocolate and hates peanut butter…

That he doesn’t know who his real parents are…

That Bel’s not his real sister, but then I could have guessed as much…

That his favorite color is red…

That he doesn’t know when his birthday is…

That for some reason he really hates the smell of roses, but loves the smell of leather…

That he’s never had anyone other than Bel tell him that they love him…

That he thinks being a professional thief is a viable career option…

That he’s been working the streets in one way or another since he was 4 years old…

That he plays piano better than anyone I’ve ever met…

I know that I love him, even though he’s been in my life for less than a month…

Sitting here watching him sleep, sprawled across the bed, dead to the world, I can’t help but hope that I can protect him from the world…that I can make up for the pain that’s been inflicted on him and show him that the world doesn’t have to be such a terrible place.

Broken bones heal, but broken hearts are harder to mend. All I can do is hope that I can undo the damage that’s been done.



PART 2

~ Baton Rouge, Louisiana – 1992 ~

Don’t ever let it be said that I don’t love that boy. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. I don’t believe in this stuff, haven’t ever believed in it and it’d take a fuckin’ angel of the Lord wavin’ a flamin’ sword in my face to convince me that any of it’s anything more than a fantasy, but Remy believes in it and that’s what matters.

“Confiteor Deo omnipotenti, beatae Mariae semper Virgini, beato Michaeli Archangelo, beato Joanni Baptistae, sanctis Apostolis Petro et Paulo, omnibus Sanctis, et tibi Pater: quia peccavi nimis cogitatione verbo, et opere: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Ideo precor beatam Mariam semper Virginem, beatum Michaelem Archangelum, beatum Joannem Baptistam, sanctos Apostolos Petrum et Paulum, omnes Sanctos, et te Pater, orare pro me ad Dominum Deum Nostrum,” Remy’s reciting reverently, and I can see the tears brimming in those beautiful eyes even from across the room.

God bless him, he really believes in it and far be it from me to tell him what to believe and what not to believe. I admire his courage actually. For me it’s impossible to believe in something I have no proof of, that I have to take on faith. I need something right in front of me, something I can see, but Remy…he has faith, and I have to admire that kind of strength of will.

“Misereatur vestri omnipotens Deus, et dimissis peccatis tuis, perducat te ad vitam aeternam,” the priest drones from the altar.

“Amen,” Remy answers, and I can hear him even from back here, my ears trained to the sound of his voice.

He’s only been with me a couple of years now, but already I love him more than life itself. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for that boy, any sacrifice I wouldn’t make. That boy is my life.

“Indulgentiam, absolutionem, et remissionem peccatorum nostrorum, tributat nobis omnipotens et misericors Dominus,” the priest intones, the words blurring together.

“Amen,” Remy answers again, soft voice clear even through the haze of other voices.

I could almost recite this in my sleep by now, even though it means nothing to me. I know all of this…I know the names of all of Remy’s favorite Voodoo deities, and all the proper offerings, too. For some reason the fact that he has absolute faith in two competing religions doesn’t seem at all odd to me. It’s just the way Remy is, there is no contradiction for him…or for me.

“Ecce Agnus Dei, ecce qui tollit peccata mundi,” the priest continues. “Domine, non sum dignus, ut intres sub tectum meum: sed tantum dic verbo, et sanabitur anima mea.”

How is it possible to love someone so completely? If you would have told me three years ago that I was capable of loving someone, let alone loving someone so completely, I would have thought you were out of your mind, but now…now I know that it is possible to care about someone more than you care about yourself.

“Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam. Amen,” the priest recites as Remy receives Communion.

Turning back toward me he makes the sign of the cross, a beatific smile on his face as he practically runs down the aisle to get back to me, and I find myself thanking a God I don’t even believe in that I’ve been given the chance to have him in my life.


PART 3

~ Baton Rouge, Louisiana – 1994 ~

The kid’s gonna be the death of me, I’m sure of it, but I suppose everyone who’s ever tried to raise a child has thought that at some point or another. I’ve given up trying to keep him out of trouble and just settled for damage control. Truth be told, I wouldn’t have him any other way, and he knows it.

He’s currently sitting on the roof, charging playing cards and tossing them into the lake for the sheer novelty of watching them blow up. Every minute or so there’s a splash as another card detonates. Remy’s soaking wet and grinning like a loon, fascinated by his newfound ability to destroy things.

Today’s his birthday, or what we’ve come to think of as his birthday…Halloween; his favorite holiday. He’s 14 already…it’s amazing how quickly he’s growing up. It seems like only yesterday that he was a pup, but he’s taller than me now and getting taller every day.

I’ve been hanging back; there’s nothing I hate more than getting drenched. The drowned cat look isn’t a good one for me, but he looks like he’s having fun and, to be honest, there’s something infectious about it.

“Hey, Rem, hold it for a second, okay?” I call, shading my eyes against the sun with the side of my hand.

“Kay,” Remy answers cheerfully, tossing the near empty card pack down and wandering to the edge of the roof.

The kid climbs like a monkey and doesn’t need a ladder to get onto the roof, but one’s propped up against the garage in case I want to join him; there’s no way in hell I’m going to be climbing any trees or scaling any terraces.

“You’re gonna break your neck, Rem,” I mutter, stifling a laugh, watching the boy do handstands at the very edge of the roof. Not that there’s much chance of that; the kid’s as sure-footed as a mountain goat.

“No, I’m not,” Remy laughs; he knows I’m not really worried about him.

Sitting down on the edge of the roof, I wait for him to join me.

“Hey, Logan?” Remy asks, moving to sit down at my side, looking at me from behind those bangs that always seem to be in front of his eyes.

“Yeah, Rem?”

“Je t’aime,” Remy says softly, leaning against my side.

“Love you too, Rem.”


PART 4

~ Baton Rouge, Louisiana – 1996 ~

I really can’t deny it any longer, I love him…and I don’t mean in a parental kind of way, although that’s certainly true, too. I feel guilty admitting it, to be honest…he’s still a child, although he’s been through more than most adults ever will already. He’s grown up to be gorgeous, too; not cute…truly gorgeous, there’s no denying it.

Truth be told, I don’t know how to handle the situation. Me…Wolverine…the man who can take anything you throw at him, defeated by love. It’s kind of ironic, really. The most confusing part is that I know he knows – my boy’s an empath – and that he feels the same way about me, but he’s a child; there’s no getting around that.

I’m not the type to take advantage of a child and especially not Remy; he’s been through so much that I’m afraid of hurting him more. I’ve been the exception to the rule of not being able to trust men…what would it say to him if I broke that unspoken promise? Granted, if he were older, I could always show him that it doesn’t have to hurt…but that just brings me back to that same problem; he’s not older.

I don’t think he knows what he wants…he’s at that age where he knows he wants something, but in his case, I don’t think he knows what. He’s not your average teenager and the only experience he’s had has taught him that sex isn’t enjoyable. I can see it in his eyes, he loves me and craves physical affection, but he’s confused, and I don’t know what to do about it.

He’s looking at me with such a look of desperate confusion on that beautiful face that I know I have to do something. I love him more than life itself and he knows that, but he needs some reassurance. I hate to have to rationalize this, to tell myself that there’s nothing wrong with showing him a little bit of physical affection, but I have to if I’m going to be able to do it without feeling like I’m taking advantage of him.

He’s 16…a couple more years and he’ll be an adult, and until then I don’t intend to do anything more than show him that I love him, but in a couple of years, it’ll be his choice. “C’mere, Rem,” I whisper, holding my arms out.

A small smile curving his lips, Remy throws himself gratefully into my arms, hugging me tightly, reassured by the contact. He thought that I didn’t want him…all he knows is that I’m confused and upset; he doesn’t know why and assumes that I just don’t want him anymore. That’s the problem with his empathy…he knows what I’m feeling, but doesn’t know the reasons behind it.

“Je t’aime, Logan,” Remy says softly, and I can feel how tense he is. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop; he’s still afraid that I’m going to send him away.

“I love you too, Rem,” I answer, hugging him tightly. “Look at me, Darlin’.”

He hesitantly pulls away, scrubbing at his cheeks with the sleeve of his sweater to wipe away the tears streaking them. He’s looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to give him some direction, and there’s really only one thing I can do and that’s kiss him and let him make up his own mind from there.



PART 5

~ New York – 1998 ~

“That’s a nasty habit, Rem,” I chide, moving to stand behind him as he sits on the edge of the roof, smoking. It’s become a sort of running joke with us; he’s been smoking since he was 14 and there’s nothing I can do about it…especially since I smoke like a chimney myself. But then, I never claimed to be a good role model.

“Like you got room to talk,” he shoots back with a grin, leaning against my leg like a cat. He knows he’s got me wrapped around his little finger; he does anything he wants and I let him do it.

18 years old already…I still can’t believe it. I would say I feel old, but then I am old. Actually I feel younger than my years…having someone so young and beautiful as Remy interested in you can do wonders for your self-esteem.

He’s been 18 for all of two days now and to be honest, those two days have been some of the hardest of my life. I made him promise that he wouldn’t rush into any decisions – not that it could be considered rushing, he’s had 2 years to decide for himself whether he wants this…wants me – but Remy’s the impulsive type, always has been, and I don’t want him making a choice he’ll regret later.

I know he loves me and I love him and if he decides he doesn’t want this to go any further, that’s fine. I’d be perfectly content to simply have him in my life and know that he loves me if it came down to it, but at the same time I’m waiting on pins and needles, needing to know what his decision will be.

“Logan?” he whispers as I move to sit down at his side. He’s nervous, I can tell. He’s trying to hide it, but I know my boy well enough to know when he’s scared.

“What, Darlin’?” Trying to sound unconcerned, but it’s probably pointless…he’ll feel it anyway.

“Made up my mind,” he says softly, eyes downcast, and if I’m not mistaken, it’s not because he’s made a decision he thinks will hurt me, but because he’s scared. Sex is a dangerous area for him; whether he wants it or not, there’s still the specter of the past to contend with.

I don’t want to push him, so I just put my arm around his shoulders and pull him close. Anyone else trying that would get pushed away, but Remy trusts me. It’s funny how life turns out sometimes…most people wouldn’t imagine that I’m capable of being gentle at all and here I am, the only person this innocent boy – no, man – will let touch him.

“I want it,” Remy whispers, hiding behind his bangs like he always does when he’s scared. “I want you.”

“You’re sure?” I’m giving him every chance to back out of this, to change his mind…I love him too much to risk hurting him. He’s been hurt so many times in his short life, I won’t allow myself to add one more wound to that list.

“Oui,” he says, voice firm. He’s definitely made up his mind, there’s no mistaking the determination I’m hearing.

“Okay, Darlin’. As long as you’re sure.”

He nods, looking me straight in the eye, and I know that he means it.




END