Shadows

by Morgana

Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com

Fandom: XMen

Rating: NC-17

Pairings: Remy/Scott

Summary: This sequel starts with Remy being abandoned by Rogue at Antarctica. Still mourning Benjamin and Dave's death and having to leave Mike behind, he tries to pick up the pieces and returns to Westchester to live in the boathouse, shunned by most X-Men and he's taken off the team. Tragedy strikes again and Remy finds himself comforting one of his teammates.

Many thanks to Mems for beta reading the parts

NOTE: These are four stories and should be read in the correct order, otherwise they won't make much sense. The Eyes Of A Child is the first story, followed by Shadows and Insanity. Return to Innocence is now finished. Please note that this story deals with rape and child abuse and is therefore rated NC-17.

Authors Warning! Please read this warning carefully and then decide whether or not to read "Eyes of a child".

In this story I describe Remy's childhood in an Alternate Universe. Remy escapes from the Antiquary, but ends up on the streets of New Orleans where he has to survive on his own. He doesn't have any real friends and is forced to sell his body to stay alive. Remy is a nine year hustler in this story and the sexual acts are described in a graphic manner. There is even one scene in which Remy faces rape. If you don't like to read these kind of stories go back and chose another story or go to another site. Please do not write me, telling me I've got a sick mind. This is fanfiction and like all my other stories this one will have a happy end.

Author's note - I stole Jean-Luc's speech from http://library.magellanspecialty.com/healthmessages/Sexuality.htm as I don't know too much about the subject myself. No copyright infringement is intended.

L'amour, affection, trust, fait', dey're gone now. I stopped believin' when Rogue flew 'way, abandonin' me, sentencin' me to dis icy deat'. I hoped de X-Men would come back to get me once dey realized I wasn' wit' dem. Hoped dat dey'd turn 'round to search for me. Mais non, it was all wishful t'inkin'. De citadel is my prison and deat' de only way out for me.

*

Remy shivered, trying to charge a card for warmth. He no longer possessed the strength to charge it fully or to cause an explosion. Right now, he was merely capable of creating a soft glow that provided him with a bit of warmth and light. Backing further into the corner of the room, he tried to draw in another agonizing breath. When had it become so hard to breathe?

Only a few seconds ago, part of the ceiling had collapsed and he had been scared that the debris would obstruct the doorway, but it looked like he might be able to squeeze through... barely. Making one false move meant getting buried beneath tons of debris.

And yet he kept on fighting. He refused to give in and let death claim him. Why? Why was he still fighting? Moving forward he tried to feel his way through the debris and his fingertips began to bleed as he clawed his way through the metal. He was buried alive. What had possessed him to come back inside after Rogue had left him? After she had sentenced him to death?

It had been too cold outside. He was only wearing trousers and he had shivered when the biting cold had hit his naked skin. After fleeing inside, he had hidden there, but then the ceiling had crumbled from the shock of the explosions, which raged on the upper level of the citadel. The whole structure was trembling on its foundations and he had better find a way out. But where to go?

"S-stop f-fightin', R-remy," he said aloud, his speech slurred. Accept de trut'! "D-dere's no w-way out and you're g-gonna die here. S-should have d-died a long t-time ago, me. Don' know w-why dey help me f-fight... Ben...jamin and D-dave died 'cause dey cared and M-m-mike... wonder if he's s-s-still 'live or did Julien k-kill him anyway?"

He had stopped shivering some time ago. Although he was icy cold, his body no longer fought the inevitable. With his bleeding fingers, he ripped away a panel and ducked as sparkles sizzled through the room. Electricity... would it strengthen his kinetic energy?

If only he could remove the isolation material to expose the copper beneath it. Maybe it would keep him alive. Stop it! Stop t'inkin' 'bout survivin'! Jus' accept de inevitable! But a part of him wanted to see Jean-Luc again to tell his father that he had forgiven him for stealing him from the hospital. Mattie... He also wanted to see Mattie again, maybe listen to her hum a lullaby... and Henri... Henri had done his best to be his big brother, but it had been to no avail. Here he was, alone and hurting and none of his family was here, or even knew where he was!

Icy blood stuck to his fingertips, freezing instantly as it hit the cold air. After a few futile attempts, he gave up on removing the isolation material. Bowing his head, he slid down the wall and sat on the cold metal floor. In the distance, another explosion rocked the citadel. He could die of hypothermia, starve to death or the debris might bury him alive. None of those ways of dying appealed to him.

"It's t-t-time to let g-go, L-le...Beau," he whispered, his slurred speech getting even worse. "P-poppa, M-mattie, Henri, I'm so s-s-sorry I let you d-down, mais I didn' k-know what to do when Ju...lien challenged m-m-me... Ai, B-belle, de Elixir made you jolie 'gain... you're 'live, r-r-rulin' de As...sas...sins. I'm glad for you, chère... I -d-d-did love you... s-s-sooooo s-s-sooooorry..."

I regret so many t'ings... I regret allowin' Benjamin and Dave taking me in. I loved dem... dey were kind to me and in love wit' each ot'er... I regret leavin' Mike... mais I had to leave 'cause I wanted him to stay 'live... I regret lyin' to Rogue... ma chère, we could never have been truly happy... I loved you 'cause I pitied you... know how bad it feels when your powers are out of control, me... Rogue, please forgive me for tryin' to make somet'in' work dat never stood a chance...

Tiredly, he closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn't be able to open them again. The cold froze his eyelashes to his skin. I'm so sorry... My life was a series of mistakes, of lost opportunities and bad choices. I did de best I could, mais it never was 'nough... I feel tired, so tired... Wonder what deat' will be like...

It was getting harder to breathe and he was slipping toward unconsciousness. His breathing almost came to a stop and his skin faded to white.

*

"Damn, I should have come sooner. I may be too late..." Sinister stepped away from the tesseract and walked toward Remy. The young man appeared frozen in death; no breath left his lips and his eyes were frozen shut. Remy's torso revealed gray and white areas, indicating frostbite. "I have to act quickly..." Sinister knelt beside Remy and gently slipped his arms beneath the younger man's back and knees.

Professor Sanders' words drifted back into his mind. The old physician had been his mentor when he had first ventured out in the medical field, and the accomplished physician had accompanied him every step of the way. He lifted Remy gently and already tried to examine his patient.

Victims of moderate to severe hypothermia have an altered level of consciousness and fluctuating changes to their heart and respiratory rate. They may be shivering and their core body temperature is usually below 33°C.

Sinister nodded his head, recalling everything Professor Sanders had ever told him about hypothermia. Almost a hundred years had passed and he still recalled every word vividly. After stepping through the tesseract with his charge, he headed for his laboratory.

*

The first thing he did after placing Remy on the exam table was to raise the room temperature. Next, he had to set up a treatment plan, but what did he know about treating hypothermia? Professor Sanders had lived one hundred years ago and in the meantime, new treatments had been introduced.

Sinister gently checked for airway obstructions. Although Remy appeared dead, Sinister still felt a very weak pulse. The young man was hanging in there, fighting for his life. "A true Essex..." Pride colored his tone.
Remy's trousers radiated cold and he quickly removed them, finding even more gray and white areas. He took great care not to touch the areas suffering from frostbite and wrapped Remy in warm blankets. His strength came in handy when he gently lifted Remy to put a warm comforter beneath him.

Sinister put his patient on an EKG and a continuous blood pressure monitor. Methodically, he placed a foley catheter to monitor urine output. He started an IV of normal saline, which he hooked up to a warming device that warmed the normal saline before it entered Remy's body. After placing a mask over Remy's mouth and nose, warm, humidified oxygen flowed into his patient's lungs.

Hopefully, Remy would recover quickly; he couldn't afford to lose this source of DNA. Remy's DNA was special and precious. Once the warm, humidified air was flowing through the oxygen mask, he stood back, studying Remy's vital signs, which were improving.

Now that he had taken care of the hypothermia, the frostbite worried him. He knew better than to touch or rub the damaged areas. He even made sure that the blankets weren't making contact with the frozen flesh. Blisters were already developing and they would hurt like hell once Remy regained consciousness. "Let's hope it's only superficial frostbite," he mumbled softly.

He filled a tub with warm water an antiseptic solution. For the next thirty minutes, he placed warm compresses on the affected areas. After wrapping Remy back up into the cocoon of blankets, he checked his son's vital signs again. They were still improving.

Keeping a close eye on his patient, Sinister hoped Remy would regain consciousness shortly so he could check on his patient's mental state. Once Remy was conscious he could drink something warm and sweet to get his blood sugar level balanced again, but now... all he could do was wait.

*

Ten minutes later Remy was stable, but still unconscious. His core temperature had risen and Sinister felt confident that his patient would survive. He re-applied the warm compresses to the areas affected by frostbite and quickly pulled the blankets back in place. When would Remy begin to shiver? The mere act of shivering would help raise his body temperature!

He had long ago pulled up a chair and now sat watching his patient, wondering why he was fussing over Remy. He had also fussed over Remy that first time, after he performed brain surgery on his son. Why was he worried?

"His empathy..."

When he had talked to the thieves in New Orleans, they had told him about Le Diable Blanc's charm, but he had seen right through it. Remy's empathy had kicked in and allowed him to read and manipulate other people's feelings, even when he wasn't aware he was doing it. And that was what was happening now... Remy's empathy made him remember feelings he hadn't experienced in decades.

He had been married once... had been in love, had had a son he had loved, but he had sacrificed all that for science. Did he regret his choices? That was hard to say as he no longer felt regret, love or hatred. He didn't love Remy, but didn't hate him either. The boy existed and his prime objective was to make sure Remy survived so he always had access to his DNA.

An hour passed and Sinister grew impatient. Surely Remy should be regaining consciousness by now? Running another test to study Remy's vitals, Sinister found nothing alarming. Remy was sound asleep and the areas affected by frostbite were regaining their normal tint. It didn't look like Remy would suffer permanent injuries; the boy would make a full recovery. But the skin damaged by the frostbite would be extremely painful once Remy woke up. His son would be confined to his bed for a few days.

Thirty minutes later, Sinister caught the fluttering of Remy's eyelids and he moved closer. Tremors shook his son's body and Remy fought to remove the oxygen mask. Sinister placed his right hand firmly over the mask, making sure Remy couldn't push it away. Remy didn't have any control over his hands and they were swinging frantically. In the end, Sinister gently took hold of them, placed them back beneath the blankets and adjusted the warm compresses.

"Gambit? Remy? Can you hear me?" Remy definitely reacted to hearing his name and the red on black eyes flashed open.

Sinister smiled, pleased, and nodded his head. "The prodigal son returns."

*

Non... Ai, non... not Sinister... He fought to keep his eyes open and he wanted to raise his hands to push away the oxygen mask, but found that he couldn't move his arms at all. They were trapped beneath several blankets and wrapped in warm compresses. His eyes locked with Sinister's. Facing death had made him bold and he didn't fear any punishment he might face at Sinister's hands.

Sinister acknowledged the pleading expression in Remy's eyes. "I found you in the citadel and brought you to my laboratory. You're suffering from severe hypothermia, Remy. Don't try to move too much. Your core temperature is stabilizing, but the oxygen mask needs to stay in place."

Hypothermia? Oui, he remembered the cold and trying to get to the copper to recharge his kinetic energy, but his frozen and bleeding fingertips had hampered him.

"Remy? Do you want some tea? It would help raise your body temperature and I want you to take a bath later."

Remy blinked. Why was Sinister fussing over him? The monster didn't have any feelings!

"I'm going to get the tea. Now don't move and rest." Sinister disliked leaving Remy alone, even only for a minute, but he had to fetch the tea and he didn't trust any of the Marauders to help him. He didn't want them to know anyway. He was having a hard time controlling Creed as it was.

Remy's eyes closed and he listened to Sinister's retreating footfalls. He had to move now! Once Sinister was back he couldn't risk an escape attempt! Huh? Why weren't his legs moving? Or his arms for that matter? He barely managed to cock his head and moaned softly as a sharp pain swept through his body. Mon Dieu! His hands, arms and feet hurt!

"It's frostbite," Sinister explained as he returned, seeing the pained expression on Remy's face. "The tissue is reheating and the pain is actually a good sign. Try to drink this." Extremely carefully, Sinister helped Remy to sit upright, piling several pillows beneath his back. He removed the oxygen mask long enough for Remy to sip. "I'll help you," he offered, knowing damn well that Remy couldn't use his hands. "I wrapped the damaged areas in warm compresses. I'll replace them after you take that bath." He had hauled the Victorian bath tub in to his lab earlier so Remy could remain hooked up to the warm humidified oxygen.

Why? Why didn' you lemme die? I don' wanna live... especially not as your prisoner... You ain' my fat'er... jus' playin' headgames wit' me. Lemme go... I don' want you to take care of me. I'm tired, me... let's stop playin' games and end it. Remy closed his eyes as Sinister helped him drink the tea. Although he hated admitting it, feeling the warm liquid flow down his throat felt soothing.

Sinister had read Remy's thoughts; his son's shields had been shattered and Remy no longer had any defenses. Realizing that Remy had a death wish surprised him. He didn't understand why a powerful mutant like his son let other people's actions affect him like that. Apocalypse had done him a big favor by removing his emotions, maybe he should offer Remy a similar bargain? But no, he already knew Remy would refuse. The young man cared too much and too deeply.

Remy wallowed in guilt and pain, pulling it close like a coat. It kept everyone outside, he trusted no one and thus he figured he wouldn't be hurt again and when someone did hurt him, he cherished the pain because it proved his point. Sinister shook his head in disapproval. Remy was too sensitive, a true empath.

After fastening the oxygen back over Remy's mouth and nose Sinister said, "It's time for your bath." He disposed of the now empty tea cup.

"N-non... n-no b-bath..." Remy cringed, finding that his speech was still slurred. He tried to take hold of the blanket, but his fingers didn't obey.

"You don't have a say in the matter, son." Sinister watched Remy's reaction closely and saw him flinch. "You are my son... it's the truth. I don't need to lie."

I don' wanna hear dis! The oxygen mask made it impossible to carry a conversation and he suspected that Sinister was reading his mind, instead of listening to his slurred words.

Sinister peeled off the blankets and Remy shivered violently as he lost his protective cocoon. Non, please don'... But Sinister didn't acknowledge his protest and removed the last blanket as well. After gently removing the warm compresses, Sinister lifted him in his arms and Remy nearly yelped in surprise. Before he realized what was happening, Sinister had lowered him into the warm water. Now the shivering started in earnest and part of the reason was that Sinister was looking at him while he was completely naked!

Sinister picked up on his son's discomfort and understood. When he had learned that Remy had sold himself on Bourbon Street he had felt something akin to rage. But that was impossible; he didn't have any feelings anymore! The sensation had stemmed from the fact that the thief and Antiquary hadn't taken care of what belonged to him. The Antiquary had abused his son and Jean-Luc LeBeau had failed Remy miserably.

He ran a wet washcloth over Remy's back, carefully avoiding the few white/gray spots that still had to return to their normal skin tone. Remy's shivers grew worse and Sinister briefly considered telling his son that he knew about Bourbon Street, but decided against it. It would only add to Remy's discomfort.

When will I be able to move my fingers 'gain?Shocked, Remy stared at his bruised fingertips. The tips were black and blue, the nails torn off and his fingers carried a grayish color.

"Frostbite," Sinister explained again. He immersed Remy's hands in warm water and eased his son's head against the now warm metal headrest of the bath tub. "Does it hurt?"

Oui... Remy bit his bottom lip. It felt like someone was pushing hundreds of needles into his hands and feet. Mon Dieu, it hurt bad! He fought back the tears of pain that threatened to leave his eyes; he couldn't show Sinister how weak he was. He sighed relieved when Sinister dropped the sponge. The scientist walked over to the room temperature control and raised it again. The oxygen mask was still in place and forcing him to inhale warm, humidified air. When would Sinister allow him to take it off?

Sinister collected some warm towels and helped Remy out of the tub. The younger man was incapable of staying on his feet unaided and Sinister carried him back to the exam table. After adjusting the oxygen mask, which had slipped slightly, he piled the blankets back on top of Remy's body. "I want you to sleep now."

Remy's large, sleepy eyes begged him to answer his question. Sinister had read his son's thoughts and frowned. Remy was far too eager to die... "It'll help you sleep, Remy."

I don' have de power to fight you... A gentle warmth spread through his body and made him relax against his will. Falling asleep again, he felt Sinister's cold hand on his brow. Why didn' he lemme die?

*

Remy yawned sleepily, wondering why his mattress felt this hard, but when he opened his eyes, reality came crashing in on him. He wasn't in his bed; he was on Sinister's exam table. Just moving his head caused him to moan in pain and he decided to lie still for the moment. What had happened?

His memory was a little fuzzy, but he clearly recalled Rogue's face when she had flown away, leaving him to die in the cold. He had gone back inside the citadel and had managed to find a room shielded from the cold wind, but then the ceiling had collapsed and he had been forced to move out again.

In the end he had given up fighting for his life and accepted death instead. His body had felt numb and he had closed his eyes, ready to let Death claim him when Sinister had appeared. Sinister, where is he? Startled, Remy's eyes darted around the room, but he was alone, still tightly cocooned in several blankets.

The oxygen mask briefly made him panic, but Sinister had told him to leave it on because he needed it. Although he was severely tempted to cross the man, he didn't dare annoy Sinister so he accepted his fate.

Concentrating on his hands, he found that his fingers burned with pain. His feet, earlobes and nose also hurt. Frostbite, wasn't that what Sinister had said?

Mon Dieu, I survived 'gain... why? Why not lemme die? No one cares whet'er I live or die. No one... No one would notice me missin'...

"You need to rebuild your shields," Sinister said, entering the room. Remy seemed fully awake and alert, which he deemed a good sign. "I brought you more hot tea."

You're readin' my t'oughts! Oh, how he wished his shields were still intact.

"We're both telepaths; like father like son." Sinister placed the tea mug on the table and quickly checked the latest readings of Remy's vital signs. "I'll remove the mask for now and we'll see how it goes."

What did you do to me? He was shivering, but wasn't sure whether it was due to the cold or Sinister's presence. Remy sighed, relieved, once the oxygen mask was gone.

"I found you in the citadel and brought you here." Sinister placed the mug at Remy's lips and encouraged him to sip slowly.

Mon Dieu! Remy cried out as the hot tea made contact with his cold insides. Coughing, he stared at Sinister helplessly. Why didn' you lemme die? I deserved to die and I wanted to die!

Sinister watched his son struggle and made a decision. "You're an empath and a telepath... you're vulnerable because you feel everything so deeply. You easily overreact and desperately want people to like you. Feeling someone's hate or disapproval hurts you deeply because you're an empath. You'll need stronger shields." It was only part of the solution, but Remy needed to understand why he was reacting in a certain way.

Remy swallowed hard, cursing the fact that he couldn't leave his bed and walk out of the room. How much longer do I have to stay? He averted his eyes, unable to look at Sinister. Was the man really his father?

"And where would you go? Back to Westchester? The X-Men don't want you."

"Mais you do?" This conversation was draining him and he shivered beneath the blankets. Sinister helped him sip again and he nodded his head, indicating he had had enough.

Remy's empathy distressed him, distracted him from his objective and clouded his judgement. It was a good thing he had removed those cells from Remy's brain stem or his son might have become his superior in strength. "I don't care where you go, where you stay and whom you're with as long as you're alive."

"Why?" Remy shrugged deeper beneath the blankets, trying to hide from view. Staring into Sinister's eyes reminded him of his own. Sinister was probably telling him the truth; the red on black eyes were his father's legacy. "Why do you want me 'live?"

"You're my son, Remy. My flesh and blood. You carry my DNA and I need it for my experiments." Sinister explained his reasons to Remy in a clinical tone. "If you die I'll lose my source of DNA."

Makes sense... makes perfect sense... So am I your prisoner? Are you gonna keep me here? He didn't think he could bear being Sinister's experiment for the rest of his life.

"Once you're healed you're free to leave. I don't require your constant presence in my lab. When I need you, I will find you."

Sinister checked the IV's and foley catheter, and nodded his head. "You'll be confined to bed for at least a few more days. The skin affected by the frostbite has started to blister and we need to watch for infection. Don't break the skin, Remy. Do you want something against the pain?"

Remy shook his head. Don' want you druggin' me.

Sinister gave him a long and thoughtful look. Turning away from his patient, he filled a syringe with a painkiller that would also make Remy sleepy. While looking Remy straight in the eyes, he injected the medication into the IV port. "You'll sleep for the next eight hours."

Remy resigned himself to his fate, knowing his hands were tied. There was nothing he could do to stop Sinister. One thing puzzled him though. Why not collar me?

Sinister raised an eyebrow. "You're my son, and you'll be treated accordingly."

You collared me 'fore de operation.

"Because your powers were out of control." The drug kicked in and Sinister watched Remy's eyes close. And you're in no condition to take me on... you're too weak and absolutely helpless...

*

Two days later, Remy was doing better. His core temperature had long since stabilized and the burning sensation in his extremities was growing less. However, the blisters remained and his fingers itched to break the skin. Sinister had caught him doing just that and the scientist had lectured him on the dangers of infection. He had felt quite guilty after that.

Although he was clinging to the blankets, which Sinister had tightly wrapped around him, he also wanted to leave his bed to find a way out of the scientist's lab. During the last few days he had lost some of his fear of Sinister and anger had taken its place. They needed to discuss so many things, but mentioning them meant accepting Sinister's role in his life. Eventually, he had to know. "Why kill ma mère?"

Sinister, who was sitting behind his computer console, was taken aback by Remy's unexpected question. "I already told you that I no longer needed her."

"What am I to you?" Remy trembled, speaking those words. "You're incapable of lovin' me and yet... you continue to save my life."

"I need your DNA." Sinister rose to his feet and approached Remy. "I chose your mother for a reason. She was an incredible strong mutant and her DNA combined with mine strengthened the gene pool." Thoughtfully, he studied his son. You have no idea just how strong you are. You could kill with a single thought, let a building collapse just because you wanted to. Once you discover your powers you'll hunt me down and then I'll have to kill you... at least I'll try to kill you. It would be so much easier to kill you now, but then I wouldn't have access to your mutating cells.

Remy weakly nodded his head. Sinister only wanted him for his DNA. Why couldn't he find someone to love him for who he was? No one loved him unconditionally... What 'bout Jean-Luc? Non, even his father had used him to unite the two Guilds. Mike, oui, maybe Mike had loved him unconditionally.

The pressure on his bladder kept growing and he needed to relieve himself, but he absolutely hated the foley catheter. "Can I use de bat'room? I t'ink I can cover de distance... please?"

Sinister hadn't expect the sudden change in subject, but adapted quickly. Remy hated the catheter, but it had been necessary as Remy had been confined to bed. "I'll remove it, but don't overdo it. You're only allowed to visit the bathroom when I'm here with you. I don't want you to take a fall and set back your recovery."

"Why do you care?" The question left Remy's lips unintended. He had never wanted to ask Sinister that particular question, but it was born out of frustration. Empathy wise he picked up nothing. Either Sinister's shields were impenetrable or the scientist had spoken the truth and no longer had any feelings at all. "Stop fussin' over me, pretendin' you care!"

"I care about my property, Remy, and as long as you shall live, you belong to me. Every cell in your body belongs to me. You're my flesh and blood." Sinister was in the process of pulling Remy gently to his feet, when the younger man's body tensed. "Don't look for hidden motives because I don't have any. I just want access to your DNA. That's all you mean to me."

Remy's eyes widened, realizing that not even his birthfather cared. No one cared. Sinister removed the catheter and he simply sat there, staring and silent because there was nothing left to say.

*

Another two days passed and Remy was now able to move about on his own. His feet hadn't been too badly damaged by the cold as he had been wearing boots, but his fingers, earlobes and nose were a different story. Sinister regularly bathed his hands in warm water and applied warm compresses to his ears and nose and yet, the burning sensation remained. He had come awfully close to dying in the citadel.

"Slip into them." Sinister had manufactured special gloves, designed to keep Remy's fingers extra warm. His son's nose and earlobes were returning to a normal skin tone, but Remy's hands worried him.

Remy obeyed and admitted he loved the soft silk-like fabric that cradled his burning fingers. He had needed Sinister's help to get dressed that morning and now he was wearing white sweat bottoms and a long-sleeved shirt. Sinister had also wrapped a long bathrobe around him to keep him warm.

"How much longer 'fore I can leave?" Remy asked in a tiny tone. He felt cornered and trapped and had started to feel claustrophobic.

"Before you can leave my base?" Sinister cocked his head. "At least four more days of rest."

"I wanna go back to Westchester," Remy admitted in an unguarded moment.

"So they can shun you?" Sinister didn't understand his son's need to return to the X-Men. "They no longer want you. They left you to die and now you're crawling back to them?"

Remy lowered his eyes. "I owe dem. Owe Rogue and Warren, owe dem, me." Slowly, he began pacing his room. "I lied to dem, never told dem I gat'ered de Marauders..."

"I had hoped then that you'd stay with me... that the Massacre would bind you to my side...but instead you ran." Remy would be leaving shortly, he saw it in his son's eyes. "You can always return here. You're my son and this can be your home."

Remy shivered. "Non, you ain' my fat'er and dis ain' home." He had accepted that Sinister was his birthfather, but the man had also murdered his mother and reduced him to an experiment for the rest of his life.

Sinister arched an eyebrow, considering this conversation over. "I suggest you stay inside this room until you leave. Creed is at the base as well and he hates your guts. Stay clear of him and rest." Sinister walked toward the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. Remy looked miserable, hiding beneath several layers of blankets, but the young man's will still wasn't broken. Remy would never give up.

"I'll be back shortly to bring you dinner. In four days I'll take you back to Westchester. Try to stay out of trouble during the remainder of your stay and rest."

Remy sighed as Sinister closed the door behind him. Finally he was alone again. Creed... The name made him shudder, but that didn't keep him from walking over to the doorway and opening the door. He didn't know if Sinister would truly take him back to the mansion and he couldn't take any risks. He had to find his own way home and somewhere in Sinister's base he would find the necessary means to return to Westchester.

*

Merde, walking longer distances was harder than he had thought. He had been on his feet for less than ten minutes and he was already panting from exhaustion. His body tingled and his fingertips protested every movement, as he used them to steady himself against the wall. Maybe he should have listened to Sinister and should have stayed in bed. Mais non, he needed to find a way out.

Electronic buzzing told him that he was approaching the control room, which was filled with computers and monitors. "Bien, mebbe dis will work after all." He knew how to hack a computer and maybe he could send a message. But den 'gain, will de X-Men react when receivin' my SOS? Will dey react or jus' ignore de call?

Merde, I can' type like dis! His fingers were bandaged beneath the mittens and made it impossible to type. Now what? He used both hands to lift a pen and clutched it between the palms of his hands. Dis way it'll take me ages to hack de computer! He was about to give up when the pen crashed hard onto the keyboard, hitting several keys. The screen flashed alive and Remy startled at seeing tons of snow and ice. The whiteness hurt his eyes and he looked away.

Antarctica... dat's where dey left me. Peeking at the screen again, he made out the contours of the citadel. This was the place where Rogue had deserted him. His eyes were glued to the screen. How had he survived the terrible cold? Sinister must have been just in time!

The cold... his body remembered the icy cold vividly and shivers rocked his body. They had never returned to rescue him. After Betsy had used her shadow walking ability to take them into safety, they had started up the Blackbird and had simply left. Their betrayal stung and briefly he agreed with Sinister; it was madness to return to Westchester when he wasn't wanted there.

But he didn't have a place to stay except for Westchester. Jean-Luc still hadn't given him the okay to come back home even though everyone knew Julien was still alive, so he couldn't go there... but what about New York? He could visit Benjamin and Dave's grave and maybe try to catch a glimpse of Mike. Oui, he would first go to New York and then travel to Westchester.

He was about to turn around and leave the control room when movement on the screen caught his attention. Something was happening at the citadel. His eyes grew big, recognizing the Blackbird, which landed near the citadel. The door opened and two small figures left the Blackbird. It took Remy some time to press the right button to enlarge the view.

They disappeared inside the citadel before he could get a good look at them, but one person was definitely male and the other female. What was the Blackbird doing here? Almost a week after Sinister had found him the X-Men were back. Where they looking for something? Had they lost something and were now eager to retrieve the object? It sure as hell ain' me dey're lookin' for. Mebbe dey're tryin' to figure out Eric de Red's identity?

Curious, he waited for them to leave the citadel again. It was a damned shame that Sinister didn't have any cameras inside the citadel and even if Sinister had had them, he didn't know how to access them. Twenty minutes passed and Remy grew uncomfortable. The longer he stayed, the bigger the chance got someone would discover him here.

Eventually the two X-Men reappeared, walking toward the Blackbird and he finally got a good look at them. Mon Dieu, it's Jean and Scott! Why? What are dey doin' at de citadel? Looking closely, he cocked his head, trying to confirm his suspicions that Jean was crying. Oui, I'm right... dose are tears... she's cryin', mais why?

Entranced, he watched Scott fold an arm around Jean to pull her close. A lump formed in his throat and his eyes began to water as well. The distance was still too big to read their lips, but Jean was definitely crying and upset. Suddenly, his attention was drawn to Scott's right hand. The X-Man was holding onto something... it was the copper he had failed to get to.

Had they come back for him? If they had, they were much too late. He would have died that very first night and they would only have found his corpse. Non, they hadn't returned because of him. Staring hard at the screen, he tried to read their facial expressions. Jean was an open book to him, but Scott was a lot harder to read.

Scott... He quickly averted his eyes. Don' go dere, Remy, jus' don' go dere. Don' t'ink of him, t'ink of Jean instead! Looking back up at the screen, he watched them board the Blackbird again. A minute later the plane took off, restoring the cold and silent landscape.

Confused, he pushed himself back to his feet, but cried out as the pain in his hands swept through his body. Merde, it would take him days to get used to favoring his hands!

Jean and Scott's visit to the citadel puzzled him. What had possessed the couple to make that trip and then to take the copper threads with them?

Oh, mon Dieu, Jean... if only you'd come a few days earlier... Had they wanted to check on him or not? He would probably never know the answer, unable to reveal he had witnessed the Blackbird land near the citadel. Jean... he loved her like a sister, the only sister he had left. He had tried to take care of Storm when she had suffered from amnesia and had been locked up in a child's body, but Storm no longer cared about him, not since learning about his role in the Morlock Massacre.

Belle, he had loved Belle, had looked forward to growing old together, but then Julien had ruined his future. Turning to Rogue for love later had been another mistake. He had identified with her, knowing how it felt when one's powers were out of control, but there had never been true love between them. Oui, he had cared deeply about her, but she had played him, keeping him at a distance, probably because she knew he didn't really love her. But she had been a safe choice, untouchable, and she had craved attention and affection as well.

His lovers... he had loved only one of them unconditionally, Mike. But Mike was beyond his reach and he had better accept that.

His lovers... the truth was that he had fallen in love when joining the X-Men, but he had never told the object of his affection, deeming it safer to suffer in silence and to focus on Rogue's needs instead. She had accepted him, but he had never forgotten about his secret love. Deep down in his heart he had always known that his love could never be.

I'm pathetic... Nobody loves me... Hobbling over toward the doorway he tried to recall the way back to his room. He didn't want to get lost here and end up invading Creed's territory. He had been a fool to venture out of his room in the first place.

Closing his eyes, he gathered his strength and set one foot in front of the other, trying hard not to stumble over his own two feet.

"Look what the cat dragged in..."

Creed! He would recognize that voice everywhere! Creed was behind him, but judging by the footfalls, the other mutant was quickly advancing on him. "Leave me... 'lone," he panted, tired from being on his feet for too long.

"Don't think so, LeBeau... I've been waitin' too long to get my hands on ya!" Creed purred and crushed the smaller man against him, firmly hooking his claws in place. "This is where I slashed ya open, boy..." His claws caressed the fabric of Remy's shirt, searching for a way to make contact with the other man's naked skin. "I bet ya'll never lose the scars..."

Remy panicked, feeling Creed's hard, warm body pressed behind him. Looking down, he froze, seeing Creed's claws. "Lemme go!" His eyes almost popped from their sockets, as Creed's erection rubbed against his ass. Non, this wasn't happening, couldn't be happening! The bastard couldn't be hard! Struggling, he tried to free himself of Creed's grip, but the mutant threw him hard against the metal wall, gathering his wrists above his head. Helpless, he tried to slow down his erratic breathing. Mon Dieu, why is he doin' dis?

"I knew there was a reason why Sinister wanted ya alive. I'd have gladly finished the job that night in the tunnels, but no, he had to stop me from rippin' open yer carcass. Looks like he ain't around now, boy..."

Remy's eyes stung with tears, but he refused to cry. "Lemme go, Creed." But his empathy told him his struggle was useless. Creed's mind was hard and cold; the man got off on hurting him. Creed's right hand fondled his ass, cupping and pinching it, while the bastard used his left hand to keep him pressed against the wall.

"Ya got a nice ass, bitch. Took me a while to figure out why Sinister wanted ya 'round, but then I hacked his computer and there it was, all the information he gathered on ya, boy. So ya sold yer ass on Bourbon Street? Pity I wasn't in New Orleans at the time, but we can rectify that mistake now. Why should Sinister be the only one to stretch that tight little hole?" He pushed his leg between Remy's thighs, forcing the younger man's legs apart.

"Non, please don'... non!" Too weak to defend himself, Remy tried to think of a way to distract Creed. But he wasn't thinking logically and painful memories of Hugo flipping him on his stomach rendered him paralyzed. It was happening all over again!

Creed used his claws to slash Remy's sweat bottoms in two. Greedily, he growled, seeing the luscious mounds of flesh and he slid his fingers down the cleft, searching for the tight ring.

"Don'! Lem...m-me g-go!" Remy stuttered, panted and bucked, but Creed's hold tightened and he realized he was in no condition to fight off the bastard. "Not 'gain... please, not 'gain!"

Creed lavished his index finger with saliva and was about to part Remy's asscheeks when an explosion impacted against his chest, causing him to fall on his butt. "What the hell?"

Sinister stalked closer. "Don't you ever lay your dirty hands on my son again or I will kill you, Creed! Remy's off limits to you!" Another energy blast left Sinister's right hand and hit Creed, who had managed to stagger back to his feet.

The blast threw Creed against the wall and his eyes glowed with rage. "Yer son?" Creed laughed, amused. "Yer son ain't nothin' but a bitch, who likes to take it up the ass!"

Remy stared at the unfolding scene; Sinister advanced on Creed, his hands glowing with energy. Creed flashed his claws, but Sinister only laughed at that. Suddenly, Creed froze and a horrified expression appeared on his face.

"What are ya doin'?" Creed whispered, barely audible.

"I'm a telepath... a very strong telepath," Sinister said, definitely enjoying Creed's terror. "You slashed Remy open. You went against my orders! I told you to eradicate the Morlocks but to bring Remy to me! You tried to kill him..." Sinister cocked his head and suddenly Creed faced his own claws as they dug into his flesh.

"You’ll undoubtedly heal... consider yourself lucky that I didn't kill you." He needed Creed for his plans and to lead the Marauders. While Creed was squirming on the floor, Sinister looked at his son. "Get to your feet."

Shakily, Remy managed to stand unaided. He shivered, hearing Creed's groans of pain as his claws slashed open his ribcage.

"Why did you let him push you around?" Sinister towered over his son. "You can take him out with a single thought!"

Remy's dazed eyes revealed his disbelief. "Wit' a t'ought?" What was Sinister talking about? Right now he was too weak to even charge a card!

"You can't let them push you around like that. You're my son..." Sinister paused briefly and gestured Remy to return to his room. Following his son, he mumbled, "You have no idea just how strong you are."

Remy heard the words and looked at Sinister over his shoulder. "I don' understand." Sinister closed the door behind him and he slipped into the new sweat bottoms Sinister handed him. "Can' kill wit' t'oughts, me." He settled down in the bed and pulled the blankets up to his chin. "Why? Why do dey 'ways pick on me?"

"Because you make it easy for them," Sinister said thoughtfully. "Did it ever occur to you to fight him off? No, you surrendered, submitted."

"I tried fightin' him off!" Remy exploded. "I tried fightin' him and de ot'ers, but I don' stand a chance 'gainst dem!" His hands changed into fists beneath the mittens and he swallowed convulsively, lost for words. Never wanted to suck dem off, never wanted to be raped... Mon Dieu! I didn' want it!

Sinister nodded his head. "You have to realize that you can fight them off. You're no longer a nine year old roaming the streets. You have ways to defend yourself. As a telepath and empath you can influence their minds... and your kinetic charge... one day you'll learn that your telepathy can guide your charges..."

"I don' wanna stay here. I'm strong 'nough to leave." Stubbornly, Remy stared into Sinister's eyes. "I can walk on my own and I'm feelin' betta."

"No." Sinister shook his head. "I won't let you leave as long as you're suffering from the after effects of hypothermia and frostbite. Once you can take care of yourself you can leave. For now I order you to stay inside this room. Creed will want to get even with you."

"Why did you defend me?" Remy lowered his eyes, confused, and too afraid to hope Sinister actually cared.

"Creed was attacking my property... and he deserved it to be put in his place." Sinister left the room, closing the door behind him. Hopefully, Creed had learned his lesson.

Sinister's parting words hit Remy hard. His property... I'm his property and dat's it... He t'inks I belon' to him. Mon Dieu, I'll never be free of him. But in a few days he would leave this place and head for New York and eventually Westchester. In the meantime he would stay inside his room, no longer venturing out. He couldn't take the risk of running into a very pissed off Creed.

"I'm bien to leave! Don' need to be locked up here, me! You promised to let me go when I could take care of m'self. Why are you breakin' your word?" Remy banged a fist into the wall. One week after Sinister had rescued him from certain death, the last after effects of hypothermia and frostbite had disappeared. The only thing that worried him was his nightmares. When had he been able to sleep the entire night through without thrashing awake? And now Sinister didn't want to let him go!

Sinister studied Remy carefully. His son had almost made a full recovery. Almost. His fingers were still stiff and he had suggested physical therapy for a while, which Remy had refused. "I don't feel comfortable letting you leave at this point."

Remy raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Physically you’ve healed, yes, but emotionally? You're an empath, Remy, and keeping everything inside won't work."

"I'll be de judge of dat!" Remy straightened out his armor, which he had put on that morning. For hours he had paced his room, eagerly awaiting Sinister's return. "Lemme go!"

Sinister cocked his head. "I won't stop you from leaving," he said, and turned away from Remy, heading for the door. "But ask yourself this... how long before you suffer another emotional breakdown? You can't continue like this."

Anger made Remy's eyes glow a fiery red. "I know I messed up! I screwed up my life, me. Don' need you to remind me of dat!"

"I just want to help," Sinister said, while opening the door. What? What did I say? I want to help? When did that happen? His bloody empathy is ruining my plans.

"Can take care of m'self, me, have 'ways done dat. Don' need you to protect me! Remy LeBeau takes care of himself." He didn't know where the anger was coming from. Maybe he was feeling claustrophobic, not thinking rationally, but he needed to get out of here.

Sinister looked over his shoulder, saw the rage in Remy's eyes and wondered as well where the anger was coming from. Focusing his powers, he created a tesseract in the center of Remy's room. "Where do you want to go?"

"New York City," Remy said determinedly. He would visit Benjamin and Dave's grave before moving on to Westchester. Taking a step toward the tesseract, he involuntarily halted as Sinister raised his hand.

"Remember, you're strong. Don't let them push you around. If they don't want you in Westchester, leave." During the last few days he had tried talking some sense into Remy, to show him why people took advantage of him. "Don't act vulnerable. Don't let guilt consume you." It was quite a remarkable speech for him, emotional and full of compassion. Bloody empathy...

Remy's empathy picked up on something... was it an emotion or was he imagining things? Sinister didn't have feelings! Mais why does he seem concerned 'bout me? Ah, oui, he wants me 'live 'cause of my DNA... it's all a charade.

Sinister watched Remy step into the tesseract and a minute later his son was gone. "It's such a damn pity," he mused aloud. "You could have been the strongest one, strong enough to take out the likes of Apocalypse, but Jean-Luc LeBeau had to steal you from the hospital." The last echoes of Remy's empathy were fading away as he walked down the corridor. It was time to return to his research.

*

Remy barely made it to his penthouse, which had been kept in a tidy state during his absence. He closed the door behind him and dragged himself over to the bed, where he collapsed. Maybe Sinister had been right and he should have rested longer, but he had craved his freedom. After shedding his coat, armor and shoes, he slipped beneath the sheets. He felt drained and needed rest. Later on, he would visit Benjamin and Dave's grave.

*

He woke up ten hours later. The sun had long since risen again and yet a weak crescent moon still fought the intruder. It was a cold and windy day.

Remy stretched, yawned and sat upright. His hands rested in his lap. He was gaining more control and feeling in his fingers, but sometimes they felt paralyzed and failed him. His career as a Guild thief hung in the balance and he could only hope that his body would heal itself. Sinister had done his best to repair the damage the frostbite had done, but even Sinister's knowledge and means had their limits.

A long, hot, shower, that was what he needed and he shuffled into the bathroom, not bothering to lift his feet for the floor. As he stepped beneath the warm spray, his thoughts involuntarily drifted off to that day when his charging power had first manifested. He had been convinced that he was being punished for touching himself, but later, he had understood. Mattie and Jean-Luc had sat him down and had talked him through it.

After shutting down the water, he stepped out of the shower cabin and wrapped warm towels around his hair and body. Shivering from the cold, he slipped into a bathrobe and walked into the living area to switch on the TV. He needed some background noise to keep his thoughts from running in circles.

Sinister had kept his word, something which absolutely stunned him. He had never expected Sinister to let him go and yet here he was, back in New York. Anot'er chance... anot'er chance to make a dreadful mistake.

Remy opened the closet and selected a pair of black trousers, a black shirt, black boots and a long black coat. It only seemed fitting to wear black when visiting Benjamin and Dave's grave. Before he got dressed he quickly made a sandwich and some coffee and then slipped into the clothes.

Looking in the mirror, he shivered at the sight of black circles under his eyes. He had lost weight this last week and he needed to start working out again. If only my hands stopped givin' out on me!

Remy pulled the coat close to his body and left the penthouse.

*

Remy stood in front of the Guardian Angel Church and wasn't sure he should go inside. This was where Benjamin and Dave's memorial service had been held and they were buried in the church's cemetery, which he would visit in a few moments. I should go inside and light some candles... He wasn't particularly religious, but lighting a few candles couldn't hurt.

After making sure that his dark glasses were in place, he ventured inside. He paid for the candles, lit them and said a private prayer for his friends while staring at the sea of candles in front of him. Mon Dieu, don' know why I'm prayin', don' even believe in you, mais... Benjamin and Dave... I loved dem. Dey'd become my family and I'm here jus' in case dere's a heaven or a hell. Please take very good care of dem, mon Dieu.

The hairs at the back of his neck stood rigid, feeling someone's eyes on him. Looking about, he quickly discovered the priest that was watching him. Merde, he resembles de Antiquary! Remy fled the church and headed for the cemetery to pay his friends his last respects.

*

Remy quickly hid behind a tree, seeing that he wasn't the only one visiting their grave. Mon Dieu, it's Mike! He was tempted to reach out empathically and to make sure Mike was doing fine, but he froze, finding that a young man was walking up to Mike. The blond haired man wrapped an arm around Mike's waist and held him close.

A lover... Mike had found a lover. He should be happy for his friend, but couldn't help feeling jealous and lonely as well. When he had left Mike, he had decided not to fight for their love, running away like he always did and now he was confronted with the consequences of his actions. Mike had a lover.

Carefully shielding his presence, Remy probed Mike's emotions and involuntarily he bit his lip, encountering nothing but affection and love for the other man. He was even picking up on a name... Daniel... his lover's name's Daniel? Soundlessly, he sneaked closer, once more using his thieving skills. When he was within hearing range, he stopped, hiding behind a mausoleum.

"Mike? Shouldn't we go now? We've been here over an hour. The grave is well taken care of and you placed the lilies on their grave." Daniel looked at Mike pleadingly. "Let move back to the church, love..."

"One more minute," Mike said, hoarsely. "I never got the chance to say good-bye and every time we come here it takes me a while to get over the guilt. I should have been there when it happened."

"Mike, don't do this to yourself. The killer murdered them and then set the house on fire. There was nothing you could do."

Mike listlessly nodded his head. "You're right. Let's go back home and warm up with some hot coffee. It's chilly today." Mike enfolded his lover in an embrace and slowly they walked away from the grave.

Remy waited until they had left the cemetery before stepping away from his hiding place. Mon Dieu, it really was Mike... And he was still wearing the diamond stud he had left that morning. It had shimmered in the sunlight.

Lost, anot'er lost chance, lost l’amour. I should have stayed and fought Julien. The echo of Mike's mind was completely gone now and he knew better than to go after him. Mike had found love and he had no right to ruin everything for Mike. Will try to be happy dat you found l'amour. Daniel seemed bien, didn' feel anyt'in' evil in his mind. Hope you'll be happy, mes amis.

Standing in front of the grave, tears stung his eyes. Benjamin and Dave had been buried together, in one grave. Although he hadn't been close during the funeral, he had asked his lawyer to report every detail to him. When his lawyer had approached Benjamin's mother and Dave's family because an anonymous benefactor wanted to place a statue of a guardian angel near the grave, they had been curious, but in the end, they had agreed.

Remy stared into the granite eyes of a large guardian angel, which was watching over the grave. It had been his parting gift, as he had been unable to attend the funeral himself. At the time, the police had still been looking for Benjamin and Dave's houseguest.

*

The guardian angel, made from dark granite, silently watched over the grave. He was holding a sword, ready to strike out if necessary. The large, dark wings hovered protectively over the grave, making sure no vandals approached. It was an impressive angel and Remy smiled, pleased that this guardian angel was keeping an eye on his friends.

"Mon ange, please keep dem safe. Eart' never saw two kinder souls. Dey truly loved each ot'er and cared 'bout de less fortunate, dey even took me in and how did fate repay dem? Julien killed dem. All I can do now is to ensure dey have a safe and peaceful restin' place. And mon Dieu, in case you ain' too busy, look after Mike and his lover as well. Would love to see dem grow old toget'er, me." Remy walked toward the angel and rested his hand on the sword. "Keep dem safe."

"Remy? What are you doin' here, mon fils? A cemetery? Whose deat' are you mournin'?"

"Pop...p-pa?" Remy turned around, his eyes big in disbelief. Jean-Luc LeBeau was walking toward him, already extending his arms, inviting him into the embrace. He didn't hesitate and flung himself at Jean-Luc. "What are you doin' here? How did you find me?" Through his tears, he managed to smile at Jean-Luc.

Jean-Luc's gaze shifted from Remy's face to the names on the tombstone. "Benjamin and Dave... why don' you tell me 'bout dem?"

Remy finally managed to calm down, but he still had difficulty believing Jean-Luc was really here. He let Jean-Luc guide him to a bench where they sat down. "Dey took me in. I was part of deir family for ten days and den Julien killed dem."

Jean-Luc nodded his head, and pulled Remy's hand into his lap, gently rubbing the knuckles. "And now you blame yourself for deir deat's?"

"Oui! I should never have said oui when dey asked me to move in wit' dem! Knew I was trouble, me. Should have known betta!" Remy's tone turned frantic and he almost pulled away his hand, remembering Jean-Luc had stolen him from the hospital when he had been a baby. Could he trust Jean-Luc? He had to, or else everything was lost.

"Did you know Julien was watchin' you?"

"Non, dat never occurred to me." Remy grew alert, realizing that if Jean-Luc continued to question him, he might have to tell the Patriarch about the Morlock massacre.

"Den why are you guilty of deir deat's?" Jean-Luc smiled gently and squeezed Remy's hand. "Mattie told me dat your empathy would cloud your vision. Listen to me, petit. Julien killed dem, not you, never you! It wasn' your fault!"

Baffled, Remy stared at Jean-Luc. "Mais Poppa... I got ot'er people killed as well."

But Jean-Luc shook his head. "Mon fils, you ain' a killer. You can' kill in cold blood, self-defense maybe, mais you'd never willingly take a life. Stop takin' de blame for somet'in' you didn' do, Remy. Ever since you were born people have been tryin' to ruin your life, don' let dem. We beat de Antiquary and we can beat de ot'ers as well, mais you've got to believe in yourself."

"I don' know," Remy whispered. Confused, he realized that he wasn't able to read Jean-Luc's emotions. Was Jean-Luc shutting him out? Did he no longer trust him? "Ai..." He yelped as unexpectedly Jean-Luc's emotions washed over him. Jean-Luc must have felt his probing and had opened his shields. "Too much, poppa, too much."

Sinister had shown him how to strengthen his shields, but up until now Remy had been hesitant to put his newly acquired knowledge into practice. Not having a choice any longer, he erected heavy walls, pushing Jean-Luc's emotions back into the Cajun's mind. "Sorry, poppa, mais I'm no longer used to..."

Blinking his eyes, he looked about. "Poppa, where are you?" He was sitting all alone on the bench! Where was Jean-Luc? The Cajun had been here just a minute ago! Or was he growing delusional? "Poppa? Are you here? Poppa?"

"Let go of de guilt, mon fils and be de best you can. Make me proud."

Remy jumped to his feet, but couldn't pinpoint Jean-Luc's location. "Poppa? I'll make you proud, promise, me..." He even managed a grin; Jean-Luc had vanished on him before. The Patriarch of the New Orleans Thieves' Guild loved to put on a show. "Merci for talkin' to me, poppa."

"You're welcome, Remy," came the voice, from further away this time. "Have to go, petit, mais don' forget your promise; let go of de guilt."

"I'll try, poppa. Will try, me." Remy wiped away the solitary tear that still clung to his face and returned to Benjamin and Dave's grave. "I know what you tried to teach me, mes amis, and I'll do my best to find true amour. I'll stop playin' games wit' de ladies and look my demons in de eyes, mais it won' be a pretty sight. Pray for me, Benjamin... Dave."

After meeting the angel's granite eyes one last time, he turned away from the grave. Pulling his coat close to his body, he decided to head for Westchester in the morning. Should he warn the X-Men that he was still alive? Non, let them face their own demon as well. They had left him in Antarctica; they didn't deserve a warning.

*

He quickly increased the distance between himself and Remy. Remy's empathy had almost upset his plans, but he had saved the situation by reflecting the younger man's emotions back at him.

Jean-Luc LeBeau's features faded and his metal armor reappeared. Sinister opened a tesseract, still reflecting on the conversation he had just had with his son. Remy had firmly believed he was Jean-Luc LeBeau, just as he had intended him to. Remy wouldn't follow any advice given to him by Sinister, but he would honor Jean-Luc's advice, so he had morphed into the Cajun thief.

It had been his intention to make Remy stronger, more confident before he headed for Westchester, though he really didn't understand why his son wanted to return to those traitors, who had left him in Antarctica! If it hadn't been for his spies, he might never have learned that Remy was about to freeze to death!

Hopefully, Remy would keep his shields up and work on fortifying them. Stepping forward, the tesseract welcomed him and transported him back to his lab.

A week had passed since Remy had spoken with Jean-Luc in the cemetery and he had taken the Patriarch's advice to heart. He was trying to let go of the guilt. Deep down inside his heart he knew he wasn't to blame for either the deaths of his friends or the Morlocks, but his head was telling him differently and convincing himself he was just another victim was a constant struggle.

Ain' it strange... in a certain way Sinister and poppa said de same t'ing. I understand why poppa said it, 'cause he wants to help me, mais Sinister? Must have been my empat'y affectin' him, it's de only t'in' I can come up wit'. Mais why want me stron'? Mais oui, it ain' like I'll ever be a t'reat to Sinister and he wants me 'live, wants me 'live for my DNA, told me so. Dis ain' workin', Remy. You're drivin' up to de mansion's gates and you still don' know what to do or to say. Pat'tic...

He was driving a brown jeep up to the gate, fully aware that several security cameras were locking onto the vehicle. It wouldn't take the X-Man on monitor duty long to figure out his identity. Mais will dey lemme in or send me' way 'gain? Sinister and poppa said not to stay if dey don' want me... mais where to go? I can hide in one of poppa's safe houses, go back to bein' a Guild Thief, mais I want so much more... I want a home.

Reaching the gate, he stared at the closed entrance. The doors were firmly shut. Looking to his right, he stared straight into the lens of the camera. He took a deep breath and cocked his head. "Salut, mes amis, Gambit's back."

*

"Impossible!" Jean stared in disbelief at the monitors. She hadn't recognized the jeep, but she definitely recognized that voice.

"Remy?" She jumped to her feet; calling Scott and the professor telepathically, telling them she was allowing Remy inside and hurrying down to meet him.

Jean, wait! Scott cursed; he was in the middle of a training sequence in the Danger Room when he received her thoughts.

"Logan, shut down the program!" He terminated another imaginary Brood soldier and headed for the exit. Jean, wait, are you sure it's Gambit?

I'm sure, Jean replied, not slowing down one bit while running toward the driveway where Remy's car was pulling up. Feeling the professor's presence and interest, she addressed him. Sir, I think this might get ugly. Rogue, Betsy, Warren and Storm are all here and I don't know how they'll react to finding him here.

I'm on my way already, Charles informed them.Try to keep Remy near the jeep. Scott, join us there. Logan, find Bobby and divert the others from Remy's arrival.

Logan shook his head. "Come on, Ice Cube, we gotta make sure Gumbo doesn't get ripped apart." During the last few weeks two camps had formed. One group consisted of Rogue, Joseph, Betsy, Warren and Storm. Whenever Remy's name was brought up, they seemed content that the Cajun had been left behind in Antarctica. Logan had been shocked to find out that even his old friend Storm agreed with Rogue. He had always thought that Storm considered Remy her kid brother, but things had changed.

The other camp, consisting of the professor, Scott, Jean, Bobby, Hank and himself, felt that a great wrong had been committed when the team hadn't gone back to check on Remy. Jean and Scott had even flown back to the Citadel, but had been shocked to find it empty. Remy had vanished, without a single trace.

Bobby shifted from ice form to normal and fell into step beside Logan. "How do you plan on distracting them?"

"We'll come up with somethin', bub."

*

Although his shields were at maximum, Remy still felt the commotion his arrival had caused. Xavier, Jean and Scott hurried toward him and he mentally prepared himself for their rejection. After all, he hadn't announced his visit and they had been convinced that he was dead. Forcing himself not to reach out with his empathy, he tried to read the expressions on their faces, but that proved harder than expected. Scott's face revealed no emotion at all and the professor appeared calm and in control as always. Only Jean's face was an open book and he felt her warmth and affection as it gently battered against his shields.

Jean was the first to reach him and although he knew she was glad to see him, her hug still surprised him. She wrapped her arms tightly around him and pulled him close.

"Remy, we... how did you survive?" Jean smiled reassuringly, sensing how hard coming home was on him. "I missed you, Cajun, missed your pranks, chatter and flattery."

"Jean..." Remy couldn't manage any more words, as his emotions got the better of him. Jean's feelings were incredibly strong and urging him to lower his shields, which he did involuntarily. Mon Dieu, she's really glad to see me!

Of course I am! Jean suddenly realized what was happening. Remy? You’ve never allowed me in your mind like this before. Jean cringed, as Remy's defenses slammed into place again, but for a moment, she had seen the shadows that made his life miserable. Too little time... too little information!

Jean? I'd like to talk to Gambit as well. Amused, Charles let his hoverchair move towards Remy until he could rest a hand on the young man's shoulder. He doesn't look healthy; dark circles under his eyes, too pale, too thin... but he feels so strong! I never felt his telepathic talent before... and his shields, my God, how did he get them this strong?

"M'sieur," Remy whispered, respectfully. He felt relieved as Jean let him go. Her embrace had felt like a death-grip, like she had been afraid he would disappear the moment she let go. His gaze shifted from Jean to the professor and he relaxed slightly, seeing the acceptance in Charles' eyes. Charles wanted him here, wouldn't tell him to leave. "Hope me comin' back doesn' create problems?"

"We'll deal with any problems," Charles assured him. "Jean's right. We missed you."

Remy finally managed a weak smile. "Merci, m'sieur, wasn' sure I was welcome, me..."

So far, he had successfully managed to avoid Scott's gaze and he kept his eyes stubbornly locked on either Charles or Jean. Sinister had been right. Emotionally, he was a disaster waiting to happen and no matter how strong his defenses were he would always be prone to emotional breakdowns.

"It's a damn pity that you doubted you'd be welcome," Scott remarked, trying to catch Remy's elusive gaze. "I'm sorry that I wasn't at this mockery of a trial, but... you didn't deserve any of it."

Remy's breath hitched. Had Scott really said that? Why had he doubted Jean and Scott wanted him here? Hadn't they been to Antarctica to check on him? Mon Dieu, he was so tempted to ask them why they had visited the Citadel, but he couldn't. "I'm glad to hear I'm welcome, me," he whispered, still avoiding looking at Scott's visor. It was distressing that he could never see Scott's eyes and he was too afraid to use his empathy to find out if Scott was sincere.

"I've got to be honest with you, though," Scott said, while exchanging a glance with the professor. "There are some team members that won't be thrilled to see you."

"I expected dat..." Remy felt at a loss. Had he done the right thing by coming here or...?

"Ah can't believe Swamp rat's back!" Rogue was the first to leave the mansion, quickly followed by Betsy and Warren.

Scott caught the helpless look on Bobby's face. Bobby had done his best to distract them. "It's okay, Bobby," he whispered softly and stepped up closer to Remy, who oddly enough backed a step away from him. Why? Why is he so eager to maintain this distance? It had been a rhetorical question, but it got answered anyway.

Maybe he's afraid to get hurt again? He trusted us once and we didn't come through, Jean sent. She was monitoring Remy's reactions as well and found them alarming. The shields, his defenses were incredibly strong and yet a compelling vulnerability clung to Remy that urged her to protect him.

"Yes, he's alive, but not thanks to you, Rogue." Scott moved to stand in front of Remy, effectively blocking Rogue's path. "You know how I feel about you leaving him."

"Come on, Slim!" Warren interjected. "The thief deserved it! He gathered the Marauders and led them into the tunnels!"

"But he also told us that he regrets ever making such a mistake," Hank pointed out. He had been working on his research when Bobby had warned him that Remy had returned and he had left his lab at once.

"And that makes it all right?" Rogue shook her head. "Gumbo should have told us when he joined the team!"

"Then why don't ya tell us what ya did 'fore ya joined the X-Men?" Logan countered.

Charles' face contorted. He hated seeing them fight like this, they were supposed to be a family! "Remy will stay," he announced, ignoring Rogue and Warren's anger. "Remy, I suggest you stay at the boathouse for now." But Charles sent Scott, Jean and Remy a slight different message. That way everyone will get a chance to heal. We have to work this out before we can function as a team again. And Remy? Don't take this the wrong way, but you need to gain some weight and to start working out. I'll put you on the inactive list until you pass Henry's medical exams. I'm not punishing you by sending you to the boathouse, Remy... I just want you to recover completely before you go on another mission.

But Jean saw Remy flinch. Remy, the professor is being honest. This isn't meant as punishment.

Remy bit his bottom lip, wishing he could believe them. "Bien, I'll stay at de boathouse for now."

"Jean, why don't you help Remy settle in?" Scott smiled thankfully, as Jean nodded her head. He had to straighten out this situation; he had to find a way for them to be a family again.

*

"It's been so long since Scott and I stayed here... I'd forgotten how quiet it is." Jean finished restocking the food supplies and joined Remy in the living room where he was building a fire. "Remy, can we talk?" She had to be tactful now or he would cut off the conversation before it really started.

"Mais oui, chère, we can talk." Remy collapsed onto the couch and stared at the burning wood. This wasn't the homecoming he had planned.

Jean sat down beside him and tried to read the expression in his red on black eyes, but damn, Remy was always so hard to read! "Your shields were down... only a fraction of a second, but I saw some things," she said honestly. Remy's head jerked back and she felt his fear. "I'm not going to tell anyone, but maybe you need someone to talk to?"

"What did you see, Jean?" Non, this couldn't be happening! What had she seen? What dark secrets did she know?

"I saw Sinister..." Jean refused to let go of his eyes, keeping them prisoner. "He rescued you in Antarctica, didn't he?"

That was it? Remy forced himself not to sigh relieved. "Oui, he helped me."

"Remy... why are your shields this strong?" Jean raised her hand to place it over his, but Remy jerked his hand back and she didn't try again. "I always suspected you were a telepath... especially after you threw Betsy out of your mind; which she fully deserved as far as I'm concerned by the way... care to tell me the truth?"

"You know 'ready, don' you?" Remy shrugged his shoulders. Everything was falling apart!

"You're an empath as well as a telepath, aren't you? Remy, do you know how special it is to have that many gifts?"

"Special?" Remy shook his head. "More like a curse."

Jean licked her lips; the hardest part was yet to come. "Remy, do you trust me?" Remy's eyes widened and she sensed his rising panic. "Do you?" She hated pushing him, but she didn't have a choice. She had to do this now.

"I don' know chère... I t'ought I did..." Feeling lost, he stopped fighting her. "Everyt'in' changed after Antarctica. Rogue left me, de X-Men didn' come back and left me dere to die... mebbe I deserved it... did I?"

"No, you didn't deserve being left there by Rogue. When we found out what she had done, we were furious. Scott even wanted her off the team. She's now on the inactive list as well. Scott no longer trusts her..."

"Never t'ought Cyke would pick my side..." Remy whispered surprised.

Jean smiled and finally managed to pin his right hand with hers. "I know that Scott sometimes seems arrogant, like he doesn't care, or as Logan once phrased it, like he has a rod up his ass, but he does care. Scott's a good man. He's just really bad at showing his feelings." Remy's eyes glowed softly and she gently squeezed his hand. "You trust me, don't you?"

"Oui, I guess so..." Remy suddenly realized that she had gotten hold of his hand and wondered why she was this close. And why are we talkin' 'bout Scott? Mon Dieu, she didn' see... doesn' know... Ai, my shields were down... non, she can' know...

"You have been in love with him for all these years and you hid it perfectly. I never suspected anything," Jean said gently, rubbing his knuckles. "You've got good taste in men."

Remy's eyes bulged. "You know..." He had better pack his stuff again and leave. He couldn't stay here if she knew the truth!

"Too bad he's already married, huh?" Jean squeezed his hand again, trying to reassure him. "Thanks for never making a move on him... You must have been tempted."

"Non, not really," Remy whispered, embarrassed. "Scott loves you, only you. I fought dat crush..."

"And turned to Rogue instead... you know that was a dumb thing to do?" Jean felt his shields fluctuate again and caught a small glimpse of all the restraint he had practiced these years. "You pursued Rogue because she was safe. You couldn't touch her and your empathy told you that she didn't want to go all the way either. It was a perfect distraction, Remy. Pretending to love Rogue allowed you to mask your true feelings, but it backfired, didn't it?"

"Tried to love her, me," Remy objected. "She reminded me of myself. My powers were outta control once and I wanted someone to help me. I wanted to be dat someone for Rogue. I didn' use her!"

"I never said you did," Jean quickly reassured him. "Remy, look me in the eyes."

Remy obeyed reluctantly. "Are you tellin' me to leave?"

"No, I want you to stay." Jean wished she knew what was going on in his head. "Actually, Scott should be flattered that you're attracted to him. I never thought I would say this, but I think you'd be good for him..." Jean raised her left hand and caressed his cheek. Staring deeply into his eyes, she nodded her head. "I hope you'll find your Mister Right when the time comes."

"Mais it won' be Scott. Don' worry, chère, I won' try a t'ing. Know he loves you, me... Value your friendship so much..."

Jean smiled. "I asked you whether you trusted me and you said yes. Remy, I trust you too." She grinned impishly. "At least now I have someone to discuss men with!"

"What 'bout Bobby?"

Jean laughed warmly. "But Bobby has a completely different taste in men! I never find his 'hunks' attractive at all. Now we can talk dirty behind Scott's back."

Remy smiled hesitantly; still afraid to believe she wasn't mad at him. "You're a great lady, chère..."

"Thank you, Remy," Jean said pleased and grinned. "I love you too."

*

"Jean, chère, don' you t'ink dat's too much soup for jus' de two of us?" She had made enough to feed the whole team!

Jean tasted the soup, making sure it tasted just right. "No, I don't think so, Remy. Didn't I tell you that you've got company for dinner?"

"You're gonna eat all dat?" Remy raised an amused eyebrow, glad their verbal banter was back to normal. Especially now that she knew about his crush on her husband.

"No, dummy, Hank, Bobby and Scott are joining us for dinner. The professor excuses himself. He really would have liked to have dinner with you as well, but he's still busy trying to settle down Rogue and Warren."

Remy lowered his eyes. "Team's really divided, non?"

"Yes," Jean admitted at once. "But it isn't about you, not really..." Seeing Remy's puzzled expression she tried to explain. "A number of things went wrong and were never dealt with. Hank was switched with the Dark Beast and we found out too late. The professor turned into Onslaught and we're still trying to learn to trust him again. Let's not even mention Rogue deserting you or Logan going berserk on Betsy. He claims she smells of evil shadows..."

"So you're sayin' dis ain' 'bout me?" Remy had a hard time believing that. He carried the soup over to the kitchen table while Jean set out the bowls and utensils.

"We have been drifting apart as a team for some time now. I'm glad you're back; it finally allows us to address the fact that Rogue left you and that no one got you out." A thoughtful expression appeared in her eyes. "I'm grateful Sinister saved your life."

Remy lowered his eyes and stared at the floor. Hopefully Sinister rescuing him was all Jean had seen in his mind when it came down to Sinister. A knock on the door pulled him from his musings and Jean got up to open the door. His empathy, although he tried to repress it, easily picked up on their guests.

Bobby entered first and immediately headed toward the kitchen table, appreciatively taking in the aroma of the soup. "Gambit, it's good to have you back, but man, I never expected you to show up like that!" Bobby sat down and smiled.

Hank hesitated to step inside, but a gentle push from Scott forced him across the threshold. "Remy..."

Remy's head jerked back, unable to block Hank's fierce emotions. "Henri?" Surprised at Hank's strong feelings, he rose from his chair and walked toward him. "Oui?" He didn't know what Hank's next move would be, but it was obvious that Hank needed to say something.

"Remy, I'm so terribly sorry... I owe you an apology, an explanation, but..." Hank was at a loss for words.

"Mon ami?" Remy's empathy sensed Hank's need for contact and he placed his hand on the blue fur. "Sorry 'bout what? You didn' do anyt'in' wrong. What's dere to be sorry for?" Baffled, he wondered about the deep guilt in Hank's mind.

"I didn't come back for you." Hank shook his head in disbelief, still trying to understand why he hadn't told them to turn the Blackbird around. "I can't justify my behavior because it was wrong. Remy, I don't know whether you'll ever be able to trust me again to watch your back, but I truly regret abandoning you in your hour of need and I vow I'll never do it again." Hesitantly, unsure if his gesture would be welcome, he extended his right hand.

"Mais, mon ami..." Remy stuttered. A moment ago the words had been easy, but now they refused to come back to him. The trut', you owe him de trut'. Remy took a deep breath and plunged in. "Oui, hoped you'd come back for me, felt lonely when you didn'... hoped de X-Men would come back for one of deir one, mais I no longer was part of de team, oui? After several hours I realized you wouldn' come back for me and I gave up... don' ask me how I survived, can' tell you."

"I'll respect that," Scott said, quickly interjecting. "We're much too glad to have you back to dig for answers that are personal to you."

Pleasantly surprised, Remy looked at Scott. Once more he cursed the visor, wishing he could read the expression in Scott's eyes. He had to risk it all... why? He didn't know why, but suddenly this was important to him. "Cyke... you ever go back to de Citadel?"

Scott nodded his head. "Yes, we went back to see if... we could help and..."

"Or to bring your corpse back to Westchester to bury it honorably," Jean finished for Scott. "We couldn't stand the uncertainty."

"If only we had been there during the trial!" Scott's voice throbbed with barely repressed anger.

Hank cringed. I know he expected me to take control when everything fell apart, but I didn't rise to the challenge... I'm no leader...

Hank don't... Jean reached out to Hank and smiled reassuringly. You were injured, remember?

It's still my fault! Hank was about to leave again, but Remy's hand came to rest on his shoulder and kept him in place.

"It ain' your fault, mon ami." For one moment he had been tempted to use his empathy to comfort Hank, but he couldn't take the chance of being found out. It was bad enough Jean and the professor knew about his mental powers. And she also knows 'bout Sinister and... my crush on Scott... please, mon Dieu, don' let her tell Scott! He already felt shy in their presence now that his secret had partly been revealed.

Mon Dieu, meeting Scott for the first time was ingrained on his memory. His empathy hadn't been that strong back then and he hadn't even consciously used it on Scott, but... Scott's mind felt like Mike's... and it still does. A great sense of justice, friendship, honor and values guided Scott on his path. He understood perfectly why Jean had fallen for him.

He had heard others on the team remark that they found Scott dull and boring, even arrogant. But true leadership came from true understanding and Scott wasn't trying to be someone he wasn't. What you saw was what you got and he appreciated that. He hated people that played head games to get what they wanted.

Out of respect for Jean and his affection for both of them he had never made a move on Scott. Scott was a married man who obviously adored his wife. Jean was Scott's life, his reason for living and he wouldn't stand a chance trying to come between them. So he settled for being friends.

"Remy? Remy?" Amused, Bobby gently kicked Remy beneath the kitchen table. "If you're not eating that soup, I will."

How long had he been lost in memories? "Oh non, mon ami, dis soup's mine." Although he wasn't hungry he emptied the bowl, suddenly realizing Hank was studying him. Reading an echo of Hank's thoughts he shuddered. "Non, I ain' settin' foot in your lab, me... non."

Hank raised an eyebrow. He let the remark slide, wondering if Remy's telepathy had strengthened during his absence. The Cajun thief thought no one knew about his mental powers, but Remy couldn't fool him. He had done too many tests and physical exams to ignore the truth. He only hoped that Remy's shields had strengthened as well.

*

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. He had managed to talk some sense into Warren. Betsy hadn't seemed to care what happened to Remy and Storm had been strangely quiet when he had informed her that Remy was back. Seeing Ororo this emotionless worried him. But Storm presents no danger, no real danger to Remy. Rogue however does.

When he had allowed her onto the team, he had hoped to repair the damage her powers had done to her. But he had deluded himself, blaming her powers for her crimes while he should have been looking at her character. After she had absorbed Miss Marvel, her true character had emerged. Rogue claimed she was a mix of several personalities, and that she was trying to deal with their presence in her mind, but he no longer believed her. It was time to stop blaming her out of control powers for her bad judgment. She had made the decision to leave Remy and now that the young Cajun was back, Rogue was panicking. There was no way of knowing what her next move might be.

Charles poured himself some strong coffee and inhaled the spicy fragrance. He was keeping track of her telepathically, sensing her rage. He would keep a close eye on her in order to prevent this situation from escalating further.

*

"Merci for de company, mes amis," Remy said honestly. Even Logan had joined them and they were only now leaving. It was close to midnight and he felt tired after his emotional return to the mansion.

He waved goodbye to them, then closed the door. Now that they were gone the boathouse was empty and silent. He switched on the TV, tuned in to a baseball game and got a cold beer from the fridge. Sipping his beer, he tried to concentrate on the game, but failed.

Dey want me here. Hank, Jean, Scott, Bobby, Logan... de professor want me here, mais de ot'ers don'. I still can' believe dey're divided like dis. X-Men used to be a team, a family. Actually, he felt relieved that Charles had suggested he stayed at the boathouse. This way their emotions weren't affecting him. He still felt rage at the edges of his mind, but he managed easily to block it out.

After switching off the TV again, he climbed the stairs to the bedroom and removed his clothes. Only wearing his boxers and a T-shirt, he slipped between the covers. The silence and loneliness suddenly crashed in on him and he wished Napoleon were here... he would cuddle the tomcat until he fell asleep. Maybe he should get himself a pet?

A 'whooshing' sound attracted his attention and his instincts kicked in. Someone was out there... just beneath his window. Should he focus his empathy to find out who it was? What if he got caught? Remy left the bed, slipped into a bathrobe and approached the window. Cold... ice... violence... His empathy had kicked in anyway, warning him of the menacing presence outside.

Remy uncovered his deck of cards from his pants, which he had placed over a chair, and was ready to charge them, when something Sinister had once said came back to him. You can kill with a single thought. You have no idea how strong you really are. What had Sinister been hinting at? And if it was true, shouldn't he be even more careful when using his mental powers?

After drawing in a deep breath, he opened the window. "I know it's you, Rogue." Her form appeared floating in front of the window and he held his breath, seeing the dark expression in her eyes. "I survived, chère."

"Don't call me that!" Rogue remained at a distance, watching Remy closely. "How did yuh survive?"

Remy remained alert, never dropping the cards. "Why did you leave me, Rogue? It jus' doesn' make sense. You committed crimes as well."

Rogue cocked her head. "Don't really know why Ah left yuh, Remy. Yuh know how hard control is for me. Ah don't know why Ah flew 'way."

Oui, blame it on your lack of control... mais it doesn' work, Rogue. Involuntarily, his mind went back to the time when his powers had gone berserk. "Rogue, I know how you feel, how frustrated you are dat you can' control your powers, mais you can' blame dem for desertin' me. My powers were outta control once too, mais... I still knew what I was doin'. I would never have willingly hurt anyone, mais you..."

Tears flowed down Rogue's face. "But Ah need yuh, Remy. Yuh helped me deal with this before... Yuh can' turn yur back on me. I need yuh."

"Non," Remy said softly. "You need someone to tell you it's bien to screw up 'cause your powers are outta control. Mais it no longer works dat way." Unable to repress his need to reach out empathically, he tried to touch her mind, but he was slammed back when she felt his probing. Panting softly, he looked her in the eyes. "You don' want true control, Rogue. You're a rebel at heart. Dis is who you truly are and you're happy bein' you... mais no one else is allowed to know."

Rogue had stopped crying and glared at him. "Yuh can't believe that, sugah! Of course Ah want control!"

Remy knew he was treading on dangerous grounds, but couldn't stop now. "Took me a while to figure t'ings out, chère, mais all it takes for you to gain control is to slap a Genoshan collar 'round your neck. I suggested dat once, remember?"

"Yeah, yuh did, swamp rat... 'cause you wanted to fuck me!"

Rogue's words hurt. "I would never 'fuck' you, chère. L'amour is so different from fuckin', don' you know dat? I do..." Dave and Benjamin had first shown him and later Mike had allowed him to experience making love. "Mais you don' know de difference."

"Joe makes love to me now," Rogue told him in a cold tone. "He doesn't need to collar me to make love to me!"

Tiredly, Remy nodded his head. "I hope de two of you will be happy. You'd betta treat him right, Rogue. I hope you don' try to kill him when he needs you most."

"Bastard!"

"It's de trut', Rogue, mais lookin' your demons in de eyes is always hard, non?" Remy shivered, finally noticing the night's cold.

"Consider dis conversation over, me... Go back to Joe, Rogue." Remy began closing the window, but she reached out and stopped him.

"This ain't over yet, swamp rat."

"Rogue, dis ended when you left me on de ice." Calmly, he pushed away her hand and closed the window, knowing it wouldn't stop her if she really wanted to continue this. He returned to his bed, disrobed and slipped back between the sheets. The next few minutes he kept his empathy locked on her, sensing her anger and disbelief. Leave, Rogue. We're over. Merde, had he really sent that telepathically?

"Yur a liar and a traitor and Ah will keep my eye on yuh, Gambit!"

He sighed relieved when she finally flew away from the boathouse, knowing other confrontations would follow in the next few days. He tossed and turned the rest of the night, unable to get back to sleep.

*

"Rogue went to the boathouse last night," Charles informed Scott. It was still early and they were the only ones eating breakfast at this early hour. "Nothing happened," he added quickly, feeling Scott's distress. "But we need to monitor her closely."

Scott nodded his head once. "How are we going to reunite the team again, sir?"

"Wounds were inflicted and they need time to heal." Charles wished he knew the answer to Scott's question. "Don't put Remy on the active list yet. I'm not sure how Warren and Rogue will react in a hazardous situation while watching Remy's back."

"Remy seems weak..." Scott said in an unguarded moment.

"Oh, believe me, Remy isn't weak. He's very strong, though he has to work on his control. But he knows that. I think he'll greatly surprise us in the future. I sensed strength in him which I never felt before."

"I hope you're right, sir."

"By the way, Scott, how's Jean doing? I know she had a hard time when you found the Citadel empty."

"She's happy, sir, really happy to have him back." Scott smiled. Jean was happy and therefore he was happy as well. Sometimes life was so simply.

"Professor, Scott, we've got an emergency situation!" Warren stormed into the room, agitated and worried. "We just received an encoded message from Lilandra... she needs our help. She specifically asked for Jean's presence... she needs the Phoenix." Scott's expression darkened. He had lost Jean to the Phoenix before and he feared the day would come when he would fail to reclaim her.

Charles sensed Scott's apprehension and turned to Warren. "Gather the team and that includes Rogue and Joe." He had a feeling Scott would need them on this mission. "Remy's staying with me," he clarified, seeing Warren and Scott's questioning expression. "Take everyone else with you, but Remy's staying here with me. Now get going!" Lilandra, the only woman he had ever truly loved, was in danger!

"Yes, sir!" Scott jumped to his feet and headed for the Blackbird, relying on Warren to gather the rest of the team.

Charles placed his napkin on the table and stared at the wall, recalling Lilandra's telepathic touch. Yes, something was wrong. Why hadn't he felt it before? But the X-Men would take care of the problem, as they always did. Steering his hoverchair toward the doorway, he left the mansion and headed for the boathouse to inform Remy.

Looking through the window, Charles found Remy sitting at the kitchen table, staring blindly into a mug filled with black coffee. The long auburn hair was a tangled mess and Remy's eyes were drooping shut again. It doesn't look like he got much sleep after Rogue left. If he really wanted to, he could access the security tapes and find out what their conversation had been about, but he didn't want to pry and preferred to have Remy tell him personally.

"Remy? Can I come inside?" Charles knocked on the door, giving Remy a moment to compose himself.

"Mais oui, m'sieur. What are you doin' here?" Remy quickly opened the door and walked the professor to the kitchen table. "Want some coffee, m'sieur?"

"Only if it's still hot," Charles teased.

Remy stared at his mug, and nodded his head. "Should stop t'inkin' dis much... 'ways gets me into trouble." Remy emptied his mug in the sink and poured them both some hot coffee. After carrying the mugs back to the table, he straddled his chair and avoided Charles' eyes. "Is dere anyt'in I can do for you?" he asked eventually, growing uncomfortable beneath Charles' studying gaze.

"I'm here to inform you that the entire team is away. Warren intercepted an encoded message from Lilandra. I don't know when they'll be back." Charles sipped his coffee and released a happy sigh. This hot, strong, black coffee was just what he needed right now. "I even sent Rogue and Joseph along."
Remy shrugged his shoulders. "Cyke will need all de help he can get."

"Very true..." Charles warmed his hand on the coffee mug, realizing how lost Remy looked. Was this vulnerability new or had it been there before and the young Cajun had just hidden it better?

"You must be worried. You love Lilandra, non? And now dere's rien you can do to help." Remy still avoided Charles' eyes, preferring to stare at his coffee. It was growing cold again.

Remy's remark surprised Charles. I should have known. He's an empath after all... he knows what I feel, knows my fears and my hopes... how did he manage to hide it all these years? "Yes, I'm worried, but I have faith in the team."

Remy nodded once. "Merci for tellin' me, m'sieur." He appreciated that Charles was telling him personally; it made him feel less left out, more part of the team. "I hope everyt'in' turns out bien, m'sieur." Startled, he felt his empathy reach out to make sure Charles was okay and not putting up a front. Seeing Charles' knowing eyes, he quickly fortified his shields and managed to pull his empathy back. "Sorry, m'sieur. Still learnin' to control it, me."

Charles smiled reassuringly. "I understand. I wish I had complete control over my powers as well, but complete control is just an illusion. Your mental powers have been growing stronger... what about your kinetic charging ability? Has it gotten stronger too?"

Remy shook his head; Sinister's image flashed in his mind. The scientist had removed the cells from his brain stem and he hoped the professor hadn't seen that particular image. Mais I'm keepin' secrets from him... 'gain. Wasn' dat what got me into dis mess in de first place?

"You can tell me, you know." Charles felt Remy's doubts, but hoped the young Cajun would confide in him. "Nothing you tell me will ever leave this room. Keeping everything inside doesn't work, Remy. It'll eat at you and eventually destroy you." Remy's thoughtful expression told him that the Cajun wanted to trust him, but Remy still feared to trust. "Why don't you take a shower, shave, and then join me in the living room?"

Remy was thankful for the time to think everything over. Maybe a shower would clear his head and help him reach a decision. "I'll join you in fifteen, m'sieur."

"Remy, it's okay to call me Charles," he said, grinning slightly.

"Even Jean and Scott call you 'sir," Remy pointed out.

"Let's try?" He wanted to cover some of the emotional distance between them.

"I'll try..." Remy barely suppressed the 'm'sieur' and climbed the stairs to the bathroom.

*

Charles used the little reprieve to put on some classic music and to make some Earl Gray. He carried the tea into the living room and put it on the coffee table. The sound of shuffling feet alerted him that Remy had returned. Remy's hair was still damp, but the dull expression had disappeared from his eyes. Taking it as a good sign that Remy had joined him, he gestured for the Cajun to sit down on the couch, offering him a cup of tea.

"Merci," Remy whispered, accepting the tea and sitting down opposite the hoverchair. He still hadn't made up his mind. First, Charles had to convince him that he was trustworthy.

"I apologize for not sitting you down earlier to have this conversation. I usually interview all new members of the team, but for some reason we never talked. Why do you think that is?"

Remy tensed. Charles had offered to talk when he had joined the team years ago, but he had elegantly maneuvered himself out of that confrontation. "I never let you," he admitted. "Didn' wanna talk."

"Why's that?" Charles smiled, pleased that Remy wasn't trying to avoid answering his questions.

"Too many secrets... t'ings I'm ashamed of." Remy startled, realizing he had decided to trust Charles with his past. Was he making another mistake or finally doing the right thing after all?

"Why don't you start with telling me one secret?" Charles suggested, almost holding his breath in anticipation of Remy's answer.

What secret was the easiest to admit to? Remy briefly closed his eyes. "Never told you I was an empat' and a telepat'."

"Why?" Charles was tempted to answer this question himself, but he knew how important it was that Remy spoke his mind. Because you didn't trust us?

"I never completely trusted you..."

"We never gave you a reason to trust us," Charles finished for him. "Is that changing now?"

"Mebbe," Remy said elusively.

"And your powers are still growing stronger?" Charles still marveled at Remy's defenses. "I can feel your strength, Remy. No matter how high your walls are, I can feel it."

Remy moistened his lips. Was it time to reveal another secret? A secret? Was it still a secret? He had hinted at it in Antarctica, but Charles hadn't been at the trial. "Powers went berserk, outta control."

"When?"

"Before I joined the team... 'most four, five years ago. I was scared I was gonna blow myself up... and take down innocents wit' me. Scalphunter found me like dat and offered me a cure."

"Sinister?" Charles held onto his calm. It was important that Remy got a chance to tell his story without being condemned for his choices.

"Sinister operated on me." Remy couldn't maintain eye contact any longer and stared at the wall. "Removed cells from my brain stem." Involuntarily, his right hand searched for the scar at the back of his neck. "Wanna know somet'in' funny?"

"Of course," Charles replied, sensing the fear in Remy's mind.

"Sinister said I could kill wit' a single t'ought... make a buildin' collapse jus' 'cause I wanted it." Remy flinched, and glanced at Charles. "Do you t'ink he was lyin'?"

"I don't know," Charles said, honestly. "Henry and I would have to run extensive tests on you to answer that question. Did Sinister have a reason to lie to you?"

"Non, he didn'..." So it probably was the truth! "I don' want dat kind of power."

"Remy," Charles started gently, "the X-gene does unpredictable things to us mutants. None of us get a say in what powers we have. We have to concentrate on learning to use them, deal with them and being a telepath myself, I think I can help you, teach you. I know what you're going through..."

"No, m'sieur, you don'!" Remy hissed, sharply. "You don' have any idea what I'm goin' t'rough, what Noir went t'rough, Remy or Gambit, no one knows..." Except for Jean-Luc mebbe...

Charles frowned. "Noir?"

"Should learn to keep my big mout' shut!" Remy jumped from the couch and paced in front of the window.

Charles sighed; Remy was locking him out again. Maybe Remy needed a break? "I need to check if Scott has sent a message yet. Can we talk some more during dinner?" That should give Remy enough time to calm down.

"I ain' sure you should come back, m'sieur," Remy whispered, turning his back to Charles.

"But you need someone to talk to. Try to decide how much you can confide in me, Remy. I'm a friend... try to keep that in mind." Charles steered his hoverchair toward the doorway. "If you really don't want to talk, let me know and I won't come over for dinner."

Remy didn't react and Charles left the boathouse, feeling restless and anxious.

*

The hours passed slowly and Charles actually arrived early. Knocking on the door, he inhaled the inviting fragrances of a well-cooked dinner. When Remy opened the door, Charles raised an eyebrow. The young Cajun had changed into jeans and a red shirt, which complimented his eyes. He made up his mind, Charles realized, seeing the determination in the red on black orbs.

"Please come inside, m'sieur..." Remy stepped aside to let Charles pass. He was nervous, unsure why. Maybe it was because he had decided to answer Charles' questions without holding back?

"Smells great," Charles complimented him as he ventured into the kitchen.

"Rien de fancy, m'sieur, jus' steaks, mashed potatoes and greens..." Remy blushed, seeing Charles' nod of approval. He picked up their plates and carried them over to the table. "Bon appetite..."

Charles smiled, tasting the steak. "Just the way I like it."

Some of the tension left Remy's body at hearing the compliment. He barely managed to eat a few bites himself, still feeling nervous. "What else do you want to know, m'sieur?"

"Who's Noir?" Charles placed knife and fork on the plate and waited for Remy's answer.

Remy bowed his head, staring at the barely touched food on his plate. "Dat's my real name." Bien, I'll tell him everyt'in'.

"When I was born Sinister killed my mère, wantin' me for his experiments himself, mais Jean-Luc stole me from de hospital 'cause de Antiquary wanted me for his Velvet Ministry. De Antiquary's a telepath who feeds on mutants to stay 'live. When I was nine I escaped and ended up on Bourbon Street where I prostituted myself. I ran into Jean-Luc when I was tryin' to score some dope and he took me in."

"What?" Charles blinked his eyes. What had Remy just told him? "You prostituted yourself at nine years old?"

"Had to survive somehow, m'sieur. Didn' know much 'bout de real world when I got 'way from de Antiquary... Lookin' back, I t'ink Philippe, my pimp, took advantage of me, mais..." Remy tried to fight back his tears. Merde, why was he always this emotional?

Charles was still trying to deal with everything Remy had just told him. "Sinister killed your mother and Jean-Luc stole you from the hospital?" He knew about Jean-Luc, Remy had mentioned the Cajun a few times, but learning that Sinister had been present at Remy's birth worried him. "I don't know what to say... that's horrible, Remy."

Remy shrugged his shoulders. "It's in de past, m'sieur."

"But the past will always be with you," Charles reasoned. Should he offer comfort by touch? He wasn't a very tactile person, but Remy seemed to need physical reassurance. Slowly, he rested his hand on Remy's. Remy flinched at the touch and Charles almost pulled back, almost... Suddenly Remy's defenses went down and Charles sucked in his breath, catching a glimpse of Hugo flipping Remy onto his stomach. "I never knew... never suspected."

"Poppa and tante t'ink I'm too good at hidin' t'ings," Remy offered apologetically, staring at Charles' hand. "Why else do you wanna know 'bout my past?"

Charles took a deep breath. "I want to understand you."

Remy laughed sharply. "Understand me? M'sieur, I don' even understand myself!"

"We'll work on that," he said, smiling. "Remy, is there anything else I need to know before we start working on your powers?"

Remy gave Charles a thoughtful look. He didn't have that many secrets left and he simply couldn't tell Charles that Sinister was his father. Can' tell him I'm in love wit' Scott eit'er... "Don' know, m'sieur... you got any questions?"

"Why did you come back?"

That question almost made him nauseous. "T'ought you wanted me here... change your mind, m'sieur?"

"No, I'm glad you're back, but I want to know why you came back. The X-Men didn't offer you any reason to return to the mansion. What are you looking for here? What are you hoping to find?"

"A home?" The words left his lips unintended.

Charles smiled. "That's what I hoped you'd say, Remy." Squeezing Remy's hand, they finished dinner. Remy had taken the first step and Charles felt confident he could help Remy control his mental powers.

*

"Good morning, m'sieur." Remy shyly entered the professor's study. He had only come to the mansion because everyone else was gone.

"Remy, come inside." Charles tried to mask his uncertainty, but he was fairly sure Remy picked up on it. It was hard for one telepath to fool another, especially if that other was an empath as well.

"You're worried," Remy realized, wishing he could stop blurting everything out. One day he would make a really stupid remark and find himself in a lot of trouble. "Is it de team? Lilandra?"

"Lilandra's fine. I managed to contact her telepathically."

"Den you're worried 'bout someone on de team?" Remy hadn’t intended to probe Charles' mind; it happened subconsciously. "Jean?"

"The Phoenix..." Charles wondered how to tell Remy. "They needed the Phoenix to help and Jean... she's become a part of the Phoenix and is now roaming the universe. They're trying to contact her, but Scott..."

Remy collapsed onto a chair. "She loves Scott... he can pull her back."

"Not this time," Charles said, saddened. "I don't have the details, but Scott sounded distressed, like he'd given up."

"He'll find her, m'sieur," Remy offered.

Charles sighed, not sharing Remy's faith. "Let's hope for the best, Remy." The thought of losing Jean to the Phoenix saddened, even angered him. But he had always known this day might come. The Phoenix and Jean shared a tight connection and the power was consuming her, stripping Jean of her humanity, not even leaving the core of her personality intact. Scott feared he might have lost her permanently this time, and when Scott worried, he worried.

*

Remy was taking a nap, a luxury he seldom indulged in, when a soft tapping sound began to echo in his mind. It sounded like someone was gently knocking on the door, but when he opened his eyes, his empathy told him he was alone at the boathouse.

Remy?

Merde, what was that? M'sieur? Why was Charles contacting him telepathically? Wasn't it easier to make a telephone call? And why the tapping? Or was it Charles' way of making sure the telepathic contact was welcome?Somet'in' wrong? Any news from de team?

No, not yet... Remy...

Charles' hesitance puzzled Remy. Oui, m'sieur?

I need to get out of here. Waiting for news is driving me insane... there's nothing we can do and I was wondering... would you join me for dinner? I know a nice French restaurant and...

La Petite Crevette? Know dat restaurant... been dere myself... good food. Oui, m'sieur, of course I'll join you. Promptly, his stomach began to growl softly.

Bien sur, m'sieur. Suddenly the professor's mind voice was gone and Remy shivered, realizing he could grow used to hearing it more often; it reduced his loneliness. Remy jumped to his feet, stretched and looked at the clothes he was wearing. The jeans were hardly appropriate and he decided to dress up for the occasion.

*

When Remy arrived in the hall, he found Charles already waiting. Charles was wearing a grey suit and Remy was glad he had changed into the black slacks, grey turtleneck and black velvet jacket. "Ready to go, m'sieur?"

"Why don't you call me Charles?"

Remy avoided answering the question. "Which car you wanna take?"

"Take the Mercedes, Remy. Pull it up in front of the mansion." Charles steered his hoverchair to the right and pulled a normal wheelchair into view. After pushing himself out of the hoverchair he settled down in the normal wheelchair. "We don't want to draw attention, do we?"

"I guess not..." Remy briefly left Charles to get the car and then helped the professor settle down in the passenger's seat, collapsed the wheelchair and put it in the trunk. "Don' you hate it dat you have to hide de hoverchair?"

"I don't want people to feel uncomfortable. Isn't that why you're wearing dark glasses yourself?" Charles buckled up and Remy keyed the ignition. The gate opened and they left the mansion. "Remy?"

"Oui, dat's why I'm wearin' dem. Dey called me Le Diable Blanc on Bourbon Street and..." And the alien eyes were Sinister's legacy, his father's legacy, but he couldn't tell Charles.

"Having them caused you pain in the past," Charles summarized. "You could wear contacts."

"Non, I might hate my eyes, mais dey're part of me..." Remy concentrated on driving the car. Traffic was surprisingly heavy. "You wanna talk 'bout Jean?"

"No, not really," Charles replied, evasively. "I want to talk about you."

"You know everyt'in' dere's to know 'bout me."

"Why don't I believe that?" Charles teased, but saw Remy flinch at the same time. The young Cajun was still keeping secrets from him.

"I'm worried 'bout Jean," Remy said, changing tactics as he drove up the restaurant. He helped Charles back into the wheelchair and a waiter guided them to a table at the back of the establishment, for which Remy was grateful. It allowed them some privacy. "I 'ways liked her... hope Scott gets her back."

"We’ve lost Jean to the Phoenix before, but Scott has always managed to bring her back," Charles said, after they ordered their drinks. "But Scott sounded different this time... lost."

"Losin' Jean would break his heart. She's de love of his life." Remy grew quiet when the waiter returned to bring their drinks and take their orders. He didn't speak again until they were alone. "Why did you stay here? Don' you wanna help Lilandra in person?"

"Lilandra's a strong woman, Remy," Charles said gently. "And I have the utmost trust in the team."

"Even divided as dey are now?"

"Yes." Charles thanked the waiter for bringing their orders and began eating. Remy was merely poking his food. "Not hungry?"

"Not really," Remy admitted. He sipped his white wine and looked Charles in the eyes. "You don' have to take care of me. Have been doin' dat for years now."

Charles nodded his head. "I'm not babysitting you." But maybe I am, he thought privately. You seemed so emotional since your return that I almost fear leaving you to your own devices. Something's still wrong, something you're not telling me... I wish you'd stop hiding from me, Remy. But he shielded his thoughts carefully, making sure Remy didn't receive them. Dinner proceeded in a comfortable silence while both men were busy sorting out their own thoughts.

*

Remy absentmindedly pushed Charles' wheelchair towards their car when his alarms kicked in. The hair at the back of his neck grew rigid and his whole body tensed. Charles however, was pleasantly chattering, remarking how much he liked this particular restaurant. Didn't the professor know they were being watched? Speaking aloud meant alerting their tail and the only option left was addressing the professor telepathically. But he had never before taken the initiative when it came to telepathic speech.

I noticed that, Remy. Charles continued to talk, this time about the excellent food they had been served. But I don't want him to know we have discovered his presence.

Do you know who he is? Remy reached for his bo staff and cards.

Don't you, Remy? Don't you recognize his mind? You have met him before.

Remy concentrated harder and his empathy helped him find more pieces of the puzzle. Violence... rage... bloodlust... a craving for blood... so strong... Creed! Remy had barely finished that thought when Creed flung himself at him. Sharp claws flashed and he ducked out of their reach. Extending his bo staff, he charged it, and slammed it hard into Creed's midsection.

Creed barely seemed to feel the blow and laughed loudly. "Ah, we meet 'gain, Cajun. We still got unfinished business left and this time yer Daddy ain't around to fight me off!"

Remy prepared for another attack, quickly casting a glance at Charles, who had fallen from the wheelchair. He had to protect the professor and to take Creed out, but he had no idea how to do that. However, he wasn't going to give up. He charged his cards and threw them at Creed while using his bo staff to steady himself as he delivered a dropkick to Creed's head. The madman still didn't go down!

And I'm badly outta shape! It had been weeks since he had last worked out and he was no match for Creed. Physically, Creed was his superior. Remy launched another attack, trying to ignore his fear, but as Creed's claws ripped apart his shirt, his fear doubled, recalling how Creed had slashed him open in the tunnels. Losing his momentum, Remy stared at Creed as the other man wrapped his hand around his throat. Creed squeezed slowly, and Remy fought his rising panic. He had to do something or Creed would kill him first and then Charles.

Mais I don' know how! Creed was still shutting off his air supply and he absentmindedly wondered why Charles wasn't helping him. Charles could probably take Creed out with a few telepathic commands.

Like dat will work! But he didn't really have a choice. Creed was squeezing the life out of him, so he lowered his defenses and let his thoughts take on the outer appearance of a fist, which he slammed into Creed's mind. Suddenly, he was inside Creed's mind and he felt terrified; Creed's memories surrounded him.

Creed released him unexpectedly and Remy collapsed on to the concrete, panting for air while his mind seemed to remain linked to Creed's. Mon Dieu, I don' wanna be here!But he drifted along in Creed's memories until he reached the other man's past. There he found a young boy who had been locked in the basement. Merde, what's goin' on?

Dad locked me up in here... why did ya take me back here? Creed stared at the Cajun at his feet, feeling Remy clearly in his mind. Yer a fuckin' telepath! That explained how Remy had been able to enter his mind. Now he was back in the cold, dark basement where his father used to lock him up as punishment. I want out!

Don' know how! Remy stared helplessly at the boy, huddled in the darkest corner of the basement. Suddenly, the door opened and a bulky man descended the steps, heading for them.

"Told you a thousand times to keep your big mouth shut!" The man raised his right hand and his fist connected with the boy's jaw. "I don't wanna hear or see you, freak!"

Stunned, Remy glanced at the boy, whose eyes were simmering with rage. He beat you?

But in the end I beat him... Creed realized that he had lost the upper hand in this fight. But he had gained valuable information in return. The Cajun was a strong telepath! The telepath he had used to control his animalistic urges, Birdie, had died and he was always on the lookout for new flesh. Maybe Remy would do? Cocking his head, he weighed his chances. Should he make his move now or come back later when the Cajun least expected it?

Later. He couldn't take on two telepaths and although Xavier hadn't made a move yet, he didn't trust him. Moving quickly and soundlessly, he disappeared into the night.

Remy blinked his eyes, feeling Creed move away from him. "He's gone? Why?"

Charles pulled his wheelchair close and managed to raise himself enough to slip onto the seat. "Remy, what did you discover?"

Although he had felt Remy push past Creed's defenses, he hadn't been in telepathic contact with them. "You must have learned something important for him to leave like that. He looked terrified."

"He was abused as a chile'... his fat'er beat him... and..." Remy was still kneeling on the cold concrete and pushed himself to his feet. "And dere's a way to control his urges... a telepath can help him control dem..."

"Just as I suspected." But why had Creed left? Charles didn't know the answer to that question and focused on something else. "Remy, I've got to ask."

Remy nodded his head, already knowing what question would follow. Thanks to Creed, his beginning friendship with Charles would end. Charles would never want him around after finding out the truth.

"What did Creed mean when he said that your Daddy wasn't around to help you fight him off?" Charles moved his wheelchair closer to Remy.

"Creed sexually assaulted me once," Remy confessed in a shaky tone.

"And who fought him off?" Charles sensed he was getting close to the core of Remy's pain, which the young Cajun almost constantly kept hidden. He had felt that pain before and now he had a chance to deal with it. "Who fought Creed off?"

"Sinister did." Remy was tired of lying. He had better come clean now, pack and leave the mansion. Charles wouldn't want Sinister's son close.

"Sinister?" Charles repeated, baffled. "Did you say Sinister?"

"Sinister's my real fat'er... he doesn' care 'bout me t'ough... all he wants is my DNA for his experiments. Dat's why he saved my life in de past." Remy kept his eyes lowered, unable to look at Charles. Although he had just lost his home, a huge weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders. He had always wanted to share this secret with someone, but no one had ever offered to help him carry the burden. "I guess I better start packin', non?"

"No," Charles said reassuringly. "Don't run away again. I get the impression that you've been running most of your life." It was a lot to deal with though; finding out that Remy was Sinister's son. But I should have known... his eyes resemble Sinister's.

"You want me to stay?" Remy finally lifted his eyes and stared at Charles in disbelief. "You want me to stay?"

"Yes, please stay."

"Stay..." Lost for words, Remy nodded his head. "Mais you can' tell anyone!"

"It'll be our secret, Remy. You don't have to carry it alone any longer." Charles felt like they were finally making real progress. "Let's go home and check the security system. I don't want Creed sneaking up on us at home."

"You t'ink he'll be back?" Remy felt relieved at the change of topic.

"I'm not sure, but we’d better not take any chances." Charles accepted Remy's assistance as the younger man helped him settle down on the passenger's seat again. After Remy slipped behind the wheel, Charles looked at him and said, "Let's go home, Remy."

"Oui, home," Remy mumbled, pleased, and keyed the ignition. Maybe coming back had been the right thing to do after all.

Charles didn't sleep at all that night. He stayed up the majority of the night and after going to bed, he tossed and turned for hours. At dawn he dozed off for a few minutes, but then startled awake again.

She was gone. Jean's presence, which always hovered at the edges of his mind, had disappeared. He shivered violently; if he was experiencing Jean's absence like this, how was Scott dealing with the void, the emptiness that he had to be feeling in his mind now that Jean was gone?

Hopefully the team would be back soon. He feared for Scott's sanity; how would he cope with losing his beloved wife? It had never occurred to him that Scott or Jean would ever be separated. For some reason he had foolishly believed the couple would grow old together. The loss will devastate Scott. Will he be able to go on without Jean? He has to!

Charles left his bed, got dressed and quickly headed to the command room. After accessing the computer, he held his breath, waiting for any messages to pop up. Although he expected to see Scott on the screen, it was Storm, who appeared. She looked worried and her eyes were red; she’s been crying! It's true then... My powers told me, but I didn't want to believe we had lost Jean forever. Listening closely, his heart missed a beat.

"Professor, we have been unable to contact the Phoenix. Scott is now convinced that Jean is gone. He claims that her thoughts are gone and he can no longer sense her via the telepathic link they shared."

"How did it happen?" Charles knew he was addressing a recorded image, but maybe Storm had included this vital information.

"It was... so tragic, sir. Jean accessed the Phoenix's powers and at first she was able to control the power, but then... they merged... that's what Lilandra said. The Phoenix and Jean merged fully. Jean's body disappeared, was burned to a cinder and then the Phoenix took off. Sir, Scott almost collapsed when the Phoenix left. He mumbled that Jean was gone forever and we pursued the Phoenix for some time, hoping to prove Scott wrong, but we failed to establish contact." Storm's eyes filled with tears, but she tried to remain calm and in control of her feelings. "I relieved Scott of his leadership for the time being. He's in no condition to lead the team."

A fist squeezed Charles' heart, making it hard for him to breathe. They had lost Jean. He couldn't sense her presence any longer and Scott claimed that the telepathic link was gone. That could only mean that Jean had ceased to exist... maybe she had become a part of the Phoenix, merging with her as Storm had mentioned. "She won't be back..." Turning his attention back to Storm he listened to her words.

"We'll be back in 36 hours, sir. Scott's completely unresponsive at the moment. Hank's afraid Scott's becoming catatonic and wants to take him to his lab the moment we arrive at the mansion. Scott will need you, sir. Maybe you can reach him; he's shut us out."

The screen darkened as the message ended and Charles needed a moment to compose himself. Shaking his head, he mumbled softly, "We lost her... lost Jean..." And Hank was right. Scott was going to need all the support he could get. Storm had said that Scott was shutting them out, isolating himself and Charles forced himself to regain control of his feelings. Scott needed him, his support, and his help.

But then another shattering thought hit him. "I've got to tell Remy..." Jean and Remy were friends. Remy really liked her and Jean had a weak spot for him. This is going to be hard. Emotionally, Remy might not know how to handle the loss; his empathy might work against him. Maybe I should keep him away from Scott... Scott's loss and pain would enter Remy's mind tenfold and our Cajun doesn't have the means to cope with such strong emotions right now. He still needs to learn how to handle them... But I can worry about that later. First I have to tell Remy the dreadful news... Feeling old and discouraged, Charles left the room and headed for the boathouse.

*

Remy knew something was wrong when he picked up on Charles' sense of loss and pain. He hadn't been scanning his surroundings; Charles' emotions suddenly flowed past his defenses and into his mind. Mon Dieu, he should take Charles up on his offer to help him build even stronger shields!

He jumped to his feet and left the bedroom, where he had been taking a catnap, still feeling edgy from last night's run-in with Creed. For most of the night he had been awake, listening to the sounds the boathouse created, afraid of feeling Creed's vile mind all over again.

After descending the stairs, he raced to the door and opened it. Charles' hand was still in the air ready to knock and now fell onto his lap. Words were unnecessary between them. Remy felt the loss in Charles' emotions, saw the images in the older man's mind and bowed his head. She's dead? Non, she can' be dead!

Remy, I'm truly sorry, but we have to accept the inevitable. Charles steered his hoverchair past Remy and took hold of the younger man's right hand, pulling his student over to the couch after closing the door. Sit down, you look like you're about to keel over. He needed Remy to be strong now, needed the Cajun's help.

"How can you be sure she's dead?" His voice trembled and Remy tried to swallow past the lump that had formed in his throat. "She can' be dead."

"I know you liked her," Charles started, studying Remy's facial expression closely. The news had shocked Remy, but hopefully the younger man would recover and offer his support once Remy realized why he had come here. "I know it's the truth because I can no longer feel her. Jean and I were close; a bond existed between us, but it's gone now."

Remy wiped away the few tears that had managed to escape his eyes. "You can no longer feel her?" That was bad, really bad! He didn't want proof that Jean was gone; he wanted evidence that she was still out there!

"I received a message from Storm. Apparently, Jean and the Phoenix merged, became one new presence and... Scott's catatonic. He refuses to react, is burying himself in his mind. It must be truly frightening for him," Charles explained, while looking Remy in the eyes. "Scott and Jean were linked telepathically and he hasn't been alone for years. All the time they were together, she lived in his mind. The emptiness must cause him excruciating pain."

Remy's watering eyes grew big. "Mon Dieu, I never t'ought of dat! He's catatonic?"

"Henry will take Scott to his lab to commence treatment, but he can't do it on his own. We might need your help, Remy." Remy's body tensed and Charles raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

"My help?"

Charles drew in a deep breath and prayed Remy wouldn't panic. "Remy, you're a telepath and an empath. I'll try to connect with Scott to draw him out of his catatonic state, but I'm no empath. I can't identify with his feelings or show him that he isn't alone by sending him my emotions. I'm limited to thoughts and if I fail..."

Suddenly Remy understood. "You can' ask me to do dat. I can' enter his mind and manipulate his feelings."

Charles shook his head. "I'm not asking you to manipulate his feelings, Remy. I merely want you to assure him that he isn't the only one mourning Jean's death; that there's a reason for him to return to the present. I need your empathy, Remy."

But Remy looked unconvinced. "I still don' know if I can do dat, m'sieur. I 'ways kept my empathy to myself. I have no experience wit' enterin' people's minds."

"And I don't have the time to teach you," Charles mumbled. "Look, Remy, this is important. The team needs you."

"De team?" Remy arched an eyebrow.

"Nobody wants to lose Scott... I don't want to lose Scott. He's the son I never had..." Charles wasn't sure if he regretted making that admission. "I don't have much family left, but Jean and Scott..."

Remy nodded his head, remembering Dave and Benjamin and how close he had felt to them. Losing them had almost destroyed him. "I'll do my best," he promised. "Mais I won' manipulate his feelings." Scott would hate him afterwards and the rest of the team would shun him even more.

"Thank you, Remy. We still have a few hours left until the Blackbird arrives. Maybe I can teach you some basic empathic strategies."

Reluctantly, Remy nodded his head. He didn't want to learn how to use his empathy on others, but this was a medical emergency. "Show me."

*

Remy watched from a distance as the Blackbird finally touched down. Charles has asked him to wait in his office, just in case the professor needed his help, and he had given in.

The first person to leave the Blackbird was Storm. She was obviously distressed and that worried Remy in turn. Storm seldom let her emotions get the better of her and he realized how serious the situation was. Next, Rogue and Joe exited the plane and joined Storm and the professor. He tried hard not to look at her, but failed. She looked beautiful and the fact that Joe was touching her bare skin probably had everything to do with that.

Glancing back to the Blackbird, he saw Betsy and Logan exit, walking side by side. Both looked depressed and Remy wondered where Warren was. Didn't Warren usually escort Betsy?

His question was answered in the next moment, when Warren and Bobby appeared. They looked pale and shocked, and waited for Hank, who was carrying Scott, to join them. Remy cringed, seeing Scott's catatonic state. Scott would never have allowed anyone to carry him if he had been in his normal state of mind, but things had changed. Hank gently carried Scott while Bobby and Warren hovered close by.Which makes sense... aren' dey part of de original team? Now dat Jean's gone, dis is all dey have left.

Remy? Charles looked up at his study and caught Remy's silhouette. Scott's in a bad way.

Until now, Remy had managed not to reach out to Scott to probe his mind. But urged on by Charles' words, he tentatively reached out and pulled back immediately, feeling the all consuming void in Scott's mind where Jean's presence had been. Charles was right; Scott was catatonic.What do we do now, m'sieur? Do you t'ink you can reach him?

I have to find out. Don't go anywhere and stay close. I might send for you later. Charles momentarily broke the connection to concentrate on Scott. Nothing... his mind was empty.

"I'm taking him to my lab," Hank informed them. "I'll do my best, but..." His voice faded, knowing better than to make promises he couldn't keep. Scott had never given up like this before and it worried him, seeing his old friend this helpless.

"I'll join you in the lab. Storm, the debriefing can wait. I need to check on Scott first." Charles waited until Storm nodded her head and then he followed Bobby, Warren, Hank and Scott to the lab. It didn't surprise him that the original members wanted to be close to Scott. He glanced at the rest of the team, Storm clearly felt left out. "Go, rest... we'll talk later."

Storm left with the others. Charles quickly followed Hank and contacted Remy again. Please come to the lab as well. I've got the feeling I'll need your help.

What 'bout Warren? He won' want me dere... Maybe he should wait until Warren had left before joining the professor. Let me worry about Warren. Just come down here, now. Charles felt Remy's reluctance to join them, but the younger man was on his way to the lab. Good.

*

Hank placed Scott gently on an exam bed and Warren and Bobby stayed close, watching their catatonic friend. Charles knew he had to talk to Warren before Remy joined them. He steered his hoverchair toward Warren and waited until the other man met his eyes.

"Sir?" Warren felt confused. Scott had always been the strong one, the rock he had depended on. It was disconcerting to see him like this. It felt surreal, like they were stuck in an alternate universe, except this was reality, their own universe.

"I’ve asked Remy to join us and he's on his way to the lab." Charles studied Warren closely and noticed the anger in his eyes. "Remy's an empath, Warren. Scott's locked us out and I'm not sure I can bring him back, but an empath surely can."

"I don't want that traitor close to Scott. I'll ask Bets to..." Warren shook his head. "I don't want him around!"

Charles' expression changed and became firm and authoritative. "Warren, Betsy is a telepath, not an empath. You can't let your anger get in the way of this. Scott needs help. You're Scott's friend; don't deny him this."

"An empath? "Warren suddenly realized what Charles had revealed to him. "Are you telling me the thief's a fucking empath? Why didn't we know? Is it just another one of his secrets?"

"I knew he was an empath," Bobby said softly.

"And so did I." Hank nodded his head once. "Warren, the professor's right. Scott needs all the help he can get."

"Then why didn't I know...? Why not tell me?" Stubbornly, Warren glared at the professor. "Has the thief been manipulating us all this time?"

Charles was growing angry. "Think, Warren! If he had used his empathy on us, we would be his friends now. He could have 'charmed' us into liking him, loving and adoring him. Instead, you hate him! Does that sound like he's been manipulating you? The reason why he kept this secret was because he knew you'd react like that. Storm, Rogue, Betsy, they'll reach the same conclusion you did. That's why he didn't tell us!"

Warren briefly closed his eyes to escape Charles' angry eyes. What Charles said made sense, he had to admit that. "But he's a fucking empath..." He opened his eyes and met Charles' glare. "Let me guess, he's a telepath as well? Is that how he managed to throw Bets out of his mind?"

Charles merely nodded once. "And we're not going to fight about this. Remy will help me reach Scott and if you don't like that, I suggest you leave now."

Warren felt undecided. He hated the Cajun, but realized that Scott might need an empath's help. He didn't want to desert his friend right now, but wasn't sure he wanted to face Gambit. The choice was taken away from him as the door opened and revealed Remy LeBeau.

Remy froze, staring into Warren's icy eyes. Merde, why hadn't the professor listened to him? This was a mistake! Warren would never let him close to Scott!

"Warren..." Charles whispered the name softly, then made eye contact with Warren. "Let Remy help."

Warren waged an inner war. He simply didn't trust the thief, but Scott needed help! "I'll keep my eye on you, Cajun."

"Remy, come here..." Charles acted at once as Warren stepped aside to let Remy pass.

Bobby smiled reassuringly as Remy shyly glanced at him. "Yeah, help Slim, Remy."

Remy felt uncomfortable and nervous when he stepped up to the professor. Why had he ever let his guard down and told them about his mental powers? "M'sieur?" Wasn't Charles going to try connecting with Scott first? Wasn't he just supposed to be back up?

"I want you to monitor Scott while I try contacting him. Use your empathy to find out why he's catatonic." Charles steered his hoverchair until he had reached the head of the exam table and placed his hands on either side of Scott's head. "Should I fail, I want you to try next, Remy."

Remy swallowed hard, growing increasingly nervous under Warren's suspicious glare. Warren really didn't want him here and only allowed him to stay because Scott was important to him.

Charles concentrated on his task and gently pushed past Scott's defenses. Slowly, he ventured deeper into his student's mind, shivering as he felt only emptiness and cold. Scott, where are you? Why are you ignoring me? Please, Scott... we should talk about what happened. We need to address Jean...

Remy clutched his head as Scott's pain-filled wail flowed past his shields and into his mind. Have to stay in control... have to stay calm... can' let Scott down now... Scott's agony doubled and Remy swayed on his feet. His eyes filled with tears up and his entire body shivered. The pain... the agony... Suddenly, a hand came to rest at the small of his back, steadying him. Confused, he looked at Warren, who was helping him stay on his feet.

"That bad?" Warren's face briefly contorted. "When Scott realized she was gone he collapsed. None of us could reach him... can you?" It looked like the professor had given up as well; Charles' hands had dropped and now rested in his lap. "I want him back, LeBeau, Scott's my friend."

Bobby moved a little closer and placed his hand on Warren's shoulder. "Don't, Warren. You don't have to push him. I'm sure Remy wants to help."

Hank joined them. "Scott's vital signs are alarmingly out of control. He needs rest."

"No," Charles spoke up. "We can't allow Scott to lock us out. Remy, I want you to try... now."

Remy slowly shook his head. He had managed to compose himself again and stepped away from Warren, feeling uncomfortable beneath the other man's touch. "I can' do it."

"You have to try, Remy," Bobby said, softly. "We lost Jean... we can't afford to lose Scott as well. We're friends and friends help each other. Give it a try, don't let Scott get away with this."

Hank nodded approvingly. "Scott's convinced he's got nothing left to live for. You have to prove him wrong."

"How can I?" Remy wondered aloud; like he had something left to live for!

"Hank, pull up a chair for Remy..." Charles instructed. "Remy, sit down and place your hands on Scott's head like I did... yes, that's it." He felt relieved now that Remy was following his orders. Briefly, he had been worried that Remy would lack the courage to help. "Remember what I taught you... relax, reach out... try to feel Scott's feelings and let yourself fall... don't worry... I'll pull you back, should you lose yourself in his feelings... trust me..."

Remy closed his eyes and focused inward. I can do dis... I have to do dis... I owe Scott and Jean... dey came back for me. Using the relaxation techniques Mattie had taught him as a child, he let go of the tension and allowed himself to soak up Scott's feelings. Mon Dieu! His pain... de sense of loss... It's cold and dark in here... I don' wanna be in his mind! I don' belon' here!

Remy, don't panic, Charles advised. Let Scott pull you closer. Don't fight his despair, let it pull you close and follow it to the core where you will find him.

I'm scared... Remy admitted, but he pushed on, encouraged by Charles' words. The cold pain wrapped itself around his mind and pulled him deeper. Images of Jean flashed around him, distorted by the darkness. Her face was slowly fading and in its place appeared the blinding light of the Phoenix, roaring into Scott's mind. De connection... it was ripped 'part... he didn' get a chance to pull 'way.

That's why he's catatonic. Remy, you need to fill Jean's place... Charles rested his hand on Remy's, which was twitching and turning into a claw. It's the only way to guide him back. He needs you to show him the way. Jean's gone and she can't help him, but you can. Form a temporary link and pull Scott to the surface again.

I can' replace Jean! Remy trembled. Had Charles really said that? No one could take Jean's place!

Do you want Scott to stay like this for the rest of his life? Because that's what will happen if you refuse to help him. Do you think Jean would approve of Scott slipping into a vegetative state? Don't you think she'd want him to live his life to the fullest? Jean can't ask you to help Scott, so I'm asking in her place. Don't let Scott down. Charles hoped Remy understood how important it was that he try. You're Scott's last hope.

Remy drew in a deep breath. Scott was drifting away from him, leaving him alone in a dark corner of the other man's mind. He had to take the initiative if he wanted Scott to follow him home. Making this commitment scared him. He had never done something like this before. Never before had someone been dependant on him! Determination, born out of desperation, urged him on and he dived deeper into Scott's psyche, trying to establish contact.

Scott, wait, don' run! Suddenly, the pain was back, surrounding him. He had found Scott, had found the core of the pain that the broken link had caused. Scott hadn't had any time to prepare himself for the shattering of the link and had been telepathically injured when the Phoenix had ripped the bond apart.

Remy cringed, hearing Scott's despair. C'est moi, Cyke. It's Gambit. De professor wants me to help you, guide you back.

Scott sounded frantic, and Remy didn't know how to tell his friend the truth. How did you tell a man that his wife was dead?

Where's Jean?Scott yelled.

Remy, you've got to take control of the situation, Charles advised. He can't hear me. Scott only allowed you in... use your empathy, Remy!

Remy felt torn. Merde, he couldn't tell Scott Jean had died, couldn't be the bearer of such terrible news. Feeling Scott's despair, he was jerked into action. Cyke? You know me, it's Gambit, remember me? I'm a friend... I'm here to take you back... de professor really wants to talk to you, mon ami.

Just tell me what happened to Jean! Scott was panicking. Why wasn't Jean close and what was Remy doing in his mind? Remy's heart missed a beat.Cyke, remember de Phoenix and...

Scott screamed... Remy cried out helplessly and Warren and Bobby moved quickly when Remy threatened to fall from the chair he was sitting on.

"Sir, what's happening?" Warren looked at Charles for answers.

"Scott finally remembered what happened to Jean and he's gone into shock..." Charles felt like he was losing control. Remy, can you hear me?

Only Scott can stop the pain. Tell him he's hurting you! Charles reached out again, trying to establish some sort of contact with Scott, but the younger man refused to acknowledge his presence.

Remy started to pant hard as Scott's pain slashed through him.Cyke, please... can' take dis any more... He was chasing Scott, searching the dark places in the other man's mind. Don' hide, mon ami, I jus' wanna help!

She's dead! Scott screamed his pain, his lossJean's gone! The Phoenix took her! Took her away from me!.

Cyke... Scott, please stop! You're hurtin' me! De pain's too much! Remy squirmed on the chair.

"Let's help him lie down," Hank suggested and watched as Bobby and Warren carefully placed Remy on the floor. Bobby pushed a pillow beneath Remy's head and grabbed the Cajun's hand, hoping Remy sensed his support. "Hank, what's happening?" He didn't dare address Charles, who was obviously concentrating on staying in touch with Remy.

"I don't know, Robert," Hank said honestly. "But we should put a stop to this," he said, turning toward Charles. "Scott's vital signs are out of control."

"Not yet," Charles forced the words out from between clenched lips. "Remy's too close to let go now."Remy, if necessary use force to pull Scott back!

Non! I won' use force 'gainst him! Scott tried to pull away from Remy, but he followed.Scott, you can' run 'way. Jean wouldn' want you to run!

Scott's words hurt and Remy almost turned away... almost. Love, and fear of rejection were waging a battle and he wasn't sure which one would win. He was still in love with Scott and couldn't bear the thought of leaving him behind, but Scott obviously didn't want him around, so why was he still here? Please, Scott, lemme guide you back home. Dey want you to wake up. Who does? The only one who matters to me is Jean and she's gone!

De professor's worried. Warren and Bobby haven' left your side since Jean... died... Hank's monitorin' you and de ot'ers want you back at well. Dey're your friends. Dey need you and you need dem. Jean wouldn' want you to bury yourself 'live, Scott. She would want you to live your life and be wit' your friends, to allow dem to comfort you. Remy paused, wondering if he should piss Scott off or not. Jean would kick your ass for wallowin' in self-pity like dis. Remy held his breath.

Scott 's anger suddenly disappeared. Remy was right. Jean would kick his butt for acting like this. She had taught him to face his problems, not run away from them. But the prospect of living his life without Jean to complete him, terrified him. How could he live like that? Live with the constant emptiness that reminded him of Jean's death? She had been part of him for so many years that he couldn't imagine a life without her. I can't do this on my own, Remy.

You don' have to. De professor's here as well and we can guide you back, mais you have to come willingly. I won' force you to come back... Remy felt tired and drained; Scott's depression was forcing its way into his mind and he wasn't sure he was strong enough to fight for the both of them. Briefly, he thought back to Sinister telling him that he was headed for another emotional breakdown because he couldn't control his empathy. Had Sinister been right? He had to take that chance. Maybe if he could pull Scott's depression into his mind, it would give Scott the chance to grow strong again.

Soaking up Scott's dark feelings, his breathing slowed. A film of sweat appeared on his brow, but he didn't give up and continued to pull Scott closer to consciousness. M'sieur, need your help...

Tell me what to do! Charles concentrated on Remy's thoughts, realizing the Cajun needed his guidance. Remy was still too inexperienced to bring Scott back alone. Listen to my mind voice, Remy. Use it as a beacon. Can you feel its pull? Don't fight it...

Oui, m'sieur, I hear you. Cyke, do you hear de professor as well? Hopefully Scott hadn't changed his mind and was still willing to leave his catatonic state.

Yes, I hear the professor, Remy. The only thing that kept Scott going was the fact that Jean would want him to make the best of it. He owed it to Jean to return to the team, honor her memory and try to be an asset to the X-Men, although he doubted he could still lead the team. Storm had lead the team before and she had done a great job back then. Surely she would agree to assume leadership again!

Cyke? Are you still wit' me? Don' make me come back to get you! Remy forced back his panic. He couldn't force Scott to follow him back, but he prayed the other man wouldn't give up now. Scott?

I'm still with you, Scott assured Remy. Part of him wished he could stay in the darkness, hide from life and from his loss, but the team wouldn't let them.

Professor? M'sieur? What do I do now? Straining his neck, Remy managed to catch a glance of Scott's face and he cursed the visor, which prevented him from looking into the other man's eyes. "M'sieur?"

"You did well, Remy," Charles quickly reassured him. Scott was waking up and feeling disorientated. "Henry, you'd better keep a sedative ready. We might have to put him to sleep again... depends on how agitated he is."

Warren looked from Scott to Gambit and saw the exhaustion in the black on red eyes. When Charles had suggested Remy go in after Scott he had doubted the wisdom of that decision, but it looked like Charles had made the right call. Bobby's hand, which rested on his arm, gave him a gentle squeeze and as he looked at his friend, he found Bobby smiling. He couldn't deny feeling equally relieved.

"Bringing Scott back was the easy part," Charles warned them. "Now he has to work through losing Jean. He'll need our support."

"He has it," Warren vowed passionately. Suddenly, Scott moaned softly and Warren moved a little closer. "Scott? Can you hear me?"

"Yes..." Scott's voice was hoarse. "Headache..."

"That's normal," Charles quickly assured him. "The link was ripped apart and we had to enter your mind to get you back."

"She's... dead... dead..." Scott licked his lips, growing agitated again. "Why? Why did she leave me? Sir, why?"

"Henry?" Charles gestured Hank to inject the sedative when Scott began to squirm on the exam table, almost dropping onto the floor. Warren and Bobby managed to stop him and pushed him back onto the exam table.

Hank gently injected the sedative into Scott's right arm and smoothed back the hair that had fallen into Scott's face.

"Scott, I want you to rest. Don't fight it," Charles took hold of Scott's hand, rubbing the skin softly. "Relax..."

Scott lacked the energy to fight back his tears. "Sir, how? How am I supposed to live without her? Without Jean... my Jean... my love... my wife?"

Charles swallowed hard. "We'll do this together, Scott. I promise." Scott slipped into sleep again and Charles tucked a warm blanket around Scott's form.

"Professor? Hank? Gimme a hand? Remy's lost consciousness." They had been so focused on Scott that they had forgotten about Remy! Luckily, Bobby had kept an eye on him. Lifting Remy was almost beyond his strength and Bobby felt relieved when Hank took the unconscious man from him.

Hank placed Remy on the exam table to Scott's right and hooked the younger man up to a monitor, placing electrodes on his brow. "I'll run a test on him. Once we get back the results we know what happened."

"Bringing back Scott exhausted him," Charles said. "Remy never used his powers to this extent before. I suggest you let him rest. He'll probably wake up in a few hours and complain about vertigo and a headache. However, he should recover quickly."

"Professor, what about Scott? What do I tell the others?" Warren shuffled his feet, eager to tell the rest of the team that Scott had briefly regained consciousness.

"You can tell them that Scott's no longer catatonic." Charles exchanged a glance with Hank. "But he'll remain in the lab and so will Remy. No visitors."

Warren nodded his head and moved toward the doorway. "Are you coming, Drake?" Now that the crisis was over, Hank probably wanted his patients to have some privacy.

Bobby cleared his throat, looked at Scott and Remy one more time and then joined Warren.

After the two men had left the lab, Charles addressed Hank. "Scott's emotionally a mess."

"And what about our Cajun friend? Can he deal with Scott's pain?" Hank was watching his patients' vital signs. Remy's had already stabilized and Scott's frantic heartbeat was slowing down as well.

"Remy's strong... I'm more worried about Scott. Jean was his life." Charles pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling surprisingly helpless.

Hank nodded his head. "He loved Jean so much..."

"And I'm counting on that love to pull him through. Remy handled the situation well by telling Scott that Jean would want him to go on instead of burying himself alive..." Remy would be instrumental to Scott's recovery and he hoped that the young Cajun was strong enough to fight for both of them.

Charles steered his hoverchair closer to the exam beds. Scott was still sound asleep due to the sedative, but Remy was stirring from a restless sleep. He was squirming uncomfortably and Charles couldn't help feeling worried. He had witnessed Remy's actions and wondered what absorbing Scott's depression had done to him. The young Cajun could be headed for a major emotional breakdown.

Remy groaned, turned onto his right side and slowly opened his eyes. The dim lights hurt his sensitive eyes and he quickly closed them again. Slowly, he became aware of the dark, cold, blanket that had wrapped itself around his very soul. It was dragging him down, almost rendering him motionless. He didn't feel like moving, like talking, or even acknowledging the professor's presence.

"Remy? I know you're awake, can you hear me?" Charles moved his hoverchair to the other side of the exam table so he could see Remy's face. The young Cajun shivered violently and Charles added another warm blanket. Patiently, he waited for Remy to look at him. "Remy? What's going on? I can only help if you talk to me."

Talking seemed utterly useless and Remy shook his head. The darkness was inside his mind, covering his thoughts and rendering him helpless. All he wanted was to be left alone.

"Remy? Please look at me? Open your eyes for me?" Charles exchanged a concerned look with Hank, who nodded his head, encouragingly. They had to lure Remy into talking, into responding.

"Don', m'sieur... jus' lemme be..." Uttering the few words exhausted him. A terrible weight was pushing him down and his muscles were painfully tense.

Charles moved even closer and gently rested his hand on Remy's brow. "What did you do to bring Scott back?" He was carefully probing Remy's mental state, but the younger man easily threw him out of his mind, leaving Charles gasping for breath. "Remy, I can't help you like this."

Don' want your help... Remy curled up beneath the blankets, determined not to let Charles nose around in his mind. "Wanna go back to sleep."

"Remy, we need to talk, discuss what happened while you were inside Scott's mind." Charles had composed himself again, but still felt shocked that Remy had managed to throw him out like that. How strong was the young Cajun? Charles doubted Remy had reached his full potential yet.

"Is Scott bien?" Remy was tempted to roll onto his other side to check on him, but repressed that urge. Scott wasn't interested in him anyway, why pretend differently?

"We had to sedate him," Charles explained. "Scott was agitated and disorientated. He's asleep now."

"Mais he'll be bien?" Remy shivered beneath the blankets, but not from the cold. His body felt warm, but his mind felt like ice. His thoughts were running in circles and feelings of self-hate and guilt were making him nauseous. What was Charles doing here, wasting his time on him?

"I don't know," Charles said honestly. "He took the first step by following you back, but now it's up to us to help him complete the healing process. He's going to need your help, Remy." Charles attempted to probe Remy's mind again and this time he succeeded, but barely. "You're feeling this low because you absorbed Scott's depression. You have to lower your shields so the feelings have a way out."

But Remy wasn't listening to Charles, lost in his feelings of failure and guilt. His whole life was a mess, a combination of big mistakes and bad choices. He didn't really deserve another chance, didn't deserve to be part of the X-Men or even to stay here. Why the hell was he hanging on? Shouldn't he know by now that he was a complete fuck-up and that he only hurt the ones close to him? Maybe it was time to end it all.

"Remy..." Charles' concern increased, sensing in which direction Remy's thoughts were heading. "Don't think about suicide. It's Scott's depression, not yours. You have to let it go."

But Remy didn't answer, willing himself to fall asleep again. Hopefully Charles would be gone once he woke again. Then he would slip out of Henri's lab and leave Westchester. Find myself a nice quiet place to die. Den people can stop worryin' 'bout me. It's not like I'm addin' somet'in' to deir lives. I'm only makin' dem miserable.

Charles felt Remy slip away from him and he tried to stop the Cajun. Remy, don't you dare do this to me! But his words were in vain as Remy continued to drift away from him. Turning toward Hank, he felt helpless. "He won't let me help him. What do we do now? We have to find a way to reach him."

"Maybe Scott will be able to reach him?" Hank looked from Remy to his other patient. "Do you think he'll be up to reaching out to Remy when he wakes up?"

Charles shrugged his shoulders. "We'll have to wait and see. If Remy truly took Scott's depression away he might feel stronger when he wakes up." Charles wished he had foreseen this development when he had asked Remy to help. He should have taken into account that an empath would be inclined to absorb Scott's feelings of guilt, but instead he had pushed Remy into unknown territory. What if they failed to show Remy how to let go of Scott's guilt? He refused to lose Remy over this. It's my fault. I made the mistake and now Remy's paying for it. I have to find a way to make Remy understand why he's feeling this way...

*

Scott slowly drifted toward consciousness, still fighting the return to the surface. Jean's absence physically hurt and a throbbing headache made it hard to think rationally. Before opening his eyes, he wanted to mentally review everything that had happened these last few days.

The day he had lost Jean was the worst in his entire life. One moment the link had been buzzing and powerful and the next the Phoenix had ripped it apart. The link had snapped, and he hadn't been able to stop the Phoenix from consuming Jean. He had felt how Jean had become a part of the Phoenix, had heard her parting words, a promise of eternal love. A last goodbye had swept through his mind and then Jean had ceased to exist as an individual.

Forever, he had lost her forever. Her love for him was no more. Only the roar of the Phoenix had drifted into his mind when he had reached out for Jean one last time. The emptiness had overwhelmed him and he had lost himself in the void.

But then something extraordinary had happened. Someone had reached out for him, had managed to draw him out of his shell. It had been a male voice and he had followed it back to consciousness. At a certain moment Charles had been there as well, but that first presence puzzled him. Why had he obeyed that voice?

Gambit! Scott tried to move, but an overall sense of weakness prevented him from sitting up.Remy! It was Remy who pulled me back! Recent events returned to him. Jean had welcomed Remy home with open arms and they had learned that the Cajun possessed empathic and telepathic abilities. But why had it been Remy who had pulled him back? Why hadn't Charles entered his mind? Remy lacked experience and training and must have acted on instinct while talking him into coming back.

Oh my God, Jean! Why did you leave me? I need you so badly. I don't know how to go on living without you. For so many years your thoughts accompanied mine and now there's nothing left. But the guilt and the pain that had overwhelmed him earlier weren't that strong anymore and they didn't allow him to flee into oblivion.

"Scott, do you hear me?"

Charles' voice formed an unwelcome intrusion, but he reacted to it, obeying ingrained instincts. "Yes, sir."

"Do you know what happened?" Charles monitored Scott closely, relieved that at least one of them seemed willing to cooperate.

Scott laughed, embittered. "How could I forget? The Phoenix took Jean away from me!" Finally, he managed to push himself into a sitting position. His vision was a bit blurry at first, but then Charles' face came in to focus. Suddenly, he realized that he was in Hank's lab. When had they gotten back to Earth? Why didn't he remember the trip home?

"I'm sorry, Scott. I loved Jean as well." Charles leaned in closer, knowing that his words did little to comfort Scott; the loss was too great. "How are you feeling?"

"Sad... lonely... and I'm angry." Scott looked about, met Hank's concerned eyes and then looked away again. "The Phoenix took Jean away from me... I don't know how to live without her."

"You don't have to do this on your own," Charles assured Scott. "Can you sit upright? Henry wants you to drink something."

Hank joined them and handed Scott a glass of water. When Scott managed to take hold of it and to place it at his lips, Hank let go of the glass. Scott's hands trembled slight, but his patient managed to empty the glass without spilling its content. Scott's readings were stabilizing now that his patient was awake and Hank looked over at Remy. It was impossible to tell whether the young Cajun was asleep or merely pretending to be asleep.

"Scott, what's the last thing you remember?" Charles moved his hoverchair closer to the exam table and by doing that, he offered Scott a view of Remy, who was still resting on the other exam table.

"He guided me back... Said Jean would kick my ass for wallowing in self-pity and he's right. Jean would never let me get away with it." Scott stared at Remy's back. "Is he asleep?"

Charles drew in a deep breath. "Remy absorbed your depression," he started, "and now he's trapped in your dark feelings of pain and guilt."

Scott moved, trying to find a more comfortable position. "He's experiencing my feelings?" Somehow, that angered him. Only he was allowed to feel this depressed; Jean had been his wife and he had failed to bring her back.

"No, not any more." Charles' gaze became sad. "I think he's reliving his own failures right now. He refuses to lower his shields to offer the depression a way out and I can't convince him to trust me."

Scott, who was sitting completely upright now, moved slowly, but managed to put his feet onto the floor. "Do you think I can help?" Cautiously, he put his weight on his feet and swayed briefly. Luckily Hank was close and caught him when he threatened to fall.

"Maybe," Charles said, unwilling to offer false hope.

"Why did he enter my mind? Jean told me about his mental abilities, but I doubt he ever received adequate training. Wasn't it dangerous?" Scott pushed his pain back in to the recesses of his mind and forced himself to concentrate on Charles and Remy. As long as he didn't think of Jean the pain was bearable. So that's why I'm feeling better. He took away my depression and now he's stuck inside the negative feelings. What do I do?

"Scott? Why don't you talk to Remy? Convince him that we're here to help?" Charles whispered his next words. "But you should know that his self-esteem is very low right now. He doubts we really care about him."

Scott nodded his head once, understanding what Remy was going through. Until some hours ago, he had felt worthless and useless. "I'll try, sir." With Hank's support, he managed to walk over to Remy and accepted the chair Hank placed next to the exam table. After sitting down, he sighed, relieved to be off his feet.

Remy's eyes were tightly shut and his right hand clawed the blanket. The long auburn locks hid part of his features, but failed to conceal the paleness of his skin. Why had Remy taken such a risk? Why enter his mind and take away his depression?

"Remy? Can you hear me?" Scott finally decided on a game plan and pulled his chair closer to the exam table. "Remy? We need to talk. You took away my depression and now you're feeling guilty and miserable. You're confusing my emotions with yours." A soft moan escaped Remy's lips and it was the only sign that the Cajun had actually heard his words. Now that he had a goal to focus on, some of his old determination returned. Remy had tried to help him and was now paying the price. That was completely unacceptable. "Remy, damn it, listen to me! Don't you dare pull this on me! Open your eyes and pay attention!"

Remy's eyes flashed open and Scott cringed, seeing the unshed tears in them. "What the hell did you think you were doing, following me in and taking away my depression? Correct me if I'm wrong, but you have no idea how to handle these emotions, do you?"

"De professor asked for my help..." Remy whispered, dazedly. He should have known that Scott wouldn't want him to screw around with his feelings. "'m sorry," he apologized.

Scott shook his head. "Sir, I can't believe you did that." Searching Charles' eyes, he realized how worried the professor must have been to ask Remy to help.

"I didn't have a choice," Charles said defensively. "You wouldn't let me in and Remy's an empath. Who knows how long you would have stayed in that state if it hadn't been for Remy's interference."

Scott understood Charles' motives, but didn't approve of his methods. "And now what? How do we help Remy?"

"Don' worry 'bout me," Remy mumbled, barely audible. "Concentrate on healin'." I don' deserve deir attention... made too many mistakes in my life.

Scott's jaw grew firm. "Of course we worry about you! We'll find a way to help you. The professor mentioned lowering your shields so the depression has a way out. Why won't you do that?"

"Why should I? It's betta dis way, trust me." Remy closed his eyes again and tried to pull the blanket over his face, trying to hide from their inquisitive eyes.

Charles frowned. "Reasoning with Remy won't get us anywhere. He's no longer thinking rationally." But the problem was that he couldn't force Remy to let go of the dark guilt. Remy's defenses were too strong and kept him out.

Scott slumped back in the chair. "Now what?"

Charles shook his head. I really don't know. "Scott... you need to lie down and rest." Hank helped Scott back to his feet and guided him back to the exam table, where his patient lay down. "You shouldn't be on your feet yet."

Scott obeyed; fighting Hank was useless. But he didn't plan on falling asleep again. Judging from the look in Remy's eyes, the Cajun was desperate and there was no way of knowing what Remy's next move might be. What if the Cajun was becoming suicidal? "Someone should stay close to Remy at all times," he suggested.

Charles agreed. "Henry, keep a close eye on Remy."

Hank nodded his head. Remy was still hooked up to a monitor that was recording his vital signs; Remy would set off an alarm if he tried to remove the electrodes. Charles started for the doorway and Hank raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

Charles sensed Hank's curiosity and reacted to it. I need to think about this. But that was only a half-truth. He couldn't believe himself that he was actually considering contacting Sinister to help him deal with Remy's depression. Sinister helped Remy before... Contacting Sinister and enlisting the scientist's help could be dangerous, but he didn't have an alternative. Remy's mind was fragile right now and the young man could snap at any moment.

Scott stared at Remy's back once more; wishing the Cajun would turn around so he could read Remy's facial expressions. This is bad. Not only did he absorb my guilt, now he has managed to isolate himself, much like I did. I can't allow this to happen. Jean, I could really use your advice. What do I do now? How can I help him? But only silence answered him now that Jean's presence was gone. He was on his own... and being alone frightened him.

*

Remy's empathy told him that this was the moment he had been waiting for. Hank had fallen asleep behind his computer and Scott was dozing as well. With a shaky hand he removed the electrodes from his forehead and reached to shut off the alarm that was about to wake them. Now that the immediate danger was gone, he pushed himself into a sitting position and managed to put his feet on the floor. His first steps were unsure, but when he didn't fall, he sped up.

It took him a few minutes to cover the distance to the door. After leaving the lab, he turned right and walked down the corridor, occasionally using the wall to support himself. I've got to leave dis place...

Remy's thieving skills allowed him to reach the front door unnoticed and he shivered as the cold air found a way beneath his shirt. He should have taken a coat with him, but wait, why? He wasn't going to fight any more. He should have given in years ago and now he had better get things right. This time he was going to do it right and die.

Adrenaline was now rushing through his veins and it enabled him to duck the security cameras and to head for the gate. Once outside he would try to hitch a hike.

After slipping past the mansion security system he found himself on the main road. Several cars were passing by. Maybe one of them would stop and take him away from Westchester?

Sweat appeared on his brow and his heart was beating wildly in his chest. Hank would lecture him if McCoy ever got him into the lab again, but he didn't plan on ever going back to the mansion. He wasn't worthy of being an X-Man. It was time to move on.

He raised his thumb, hoping one of the cars would stop, but the drivers seemingly ignored him. After several minutes, Remy leaned against the trunk of a tree, realizing he had been deluding himself. He looked sick and no one wanted a sick passenger in his or her car.

Suddenly, he dropped to his knees as a sharp pain slashed through his head. His alarms were trying to warn him of the approaching danger, but the beginnings of a fever was making it hard for him to concentrate on the presence his empathy was picking up. Escaping the lab had exhausted him and he slid down the trunk, lacking the power to stay on his feet any longer.

Mon Dieu... not 'gain... de violence, de hate... I know him, not Creed! Not 'gain! Can' deal wit' him now, can' fight him off... His eyes were drooping shut, but he managed one look at the approaching predator. It was Creed all right. Remy shivered, seeing the mad gleam in the man's eyes. Leave me 'lone!

Creed almost flinched as Remy's voice unexpectedly penetrated his mind. "Not this time, Cajun. Ya won't scare me off this time... Stay outta my mind, ya hear me, LeBeau?" Creed came to a stop in front of Remy and grinned, seeing Remy squirm against the tree. The Cajun was trying to crawl away from him, but the tree blocked his escape route.

"No tricks, or yer dead, Cajun." Creed brought up his claws in front of Remy's face and allowed one sharp nail to draw blood when caressing the Cajun's face. Perfect timin', he complimented himself. He's completely helpless.

The adrenaline was wearing off and Remy shuddered as Creed drew blood. Mon Dieu, what had he gotten himself into now? He lacked the strength to put up a fight, but he refused to surrender to Creed. "Kill me, Creed. End it. You know you wanna kill me..." Maybe Creed would end his misery. Maybe if he provoked the man?

But Creed didn't give him a chance to try another game plan. Suddenly Creed's fist connected with his chin, knocking him out. Just before he lost consciousness, he thought, Mon Dieu, please let him kill me... Then darkness enveloped him.

Creed slung his prize over his shoulder and walked away from the road. He had built a shelter close by and he planned on taking Remy there. Then, after he had shown the Cajun who was in charge, he would use the telepath to help him control his animalistic urges. Remy would serve him in that capacity until he died...

*

Hank slowly opened his eyes, yawned and stretched his body. It had never been his intention to fall asleep, but the last hours events had worn him down as well. He rose from his chair, intent on checking on his patients, but froze. Remy's bed was empty! Damn!

Hank quickly accessed the com system and contacted the professor. "Sir, we've got a problem. Remy's managed to sneak out of the lab."

Charles, who had been up most of the night trying to contact Sinister, sat upright in his bed. "I'm on my way, Henry." He was already slipping into his hoverchair.

"Do you want me to alert the rest of the team?"

"Henry, call Warren and Bobby to the lab." Charles briefly considered including Logan as well. There was a chance that Creed was still roaming the grounds. "And contact Logan as well. I'll join you in the lab in ten."

"I'm already on it, sir." Hank terminated the connection to Charles' room and alerted Warren, Bobby and Logan, telling them to hurry and to come to the lab ASAP. In the meantime, Scott had begun to stir and was waking up. Hank quickly joined his patient and helped Scott sit upright.

"Hank, what's going on?" Scott had only heard Charles' last words, but his instincts were telling him something was wrong. Looking to his right, he expected to see Remy, but the exam table was empty. "Where's Gambit?"

Hank was about to answer Scott when Bobby and Logan entered the lab.

"Blue, what's the emergency?" Logan sniffled the air, trying to pick up on alien scents, but found none.

"Remy's gone," Hank said, helping Scott to his feet.

"And that's bad 'cause...?" Logan wished he knew what was going on. However, it was good to see Scott moving about again. Losing Jean had ripped his heart in two as well, but he hadn't shared a telepathic connection with her and he couldn't imagine how hard losing Jean was on Scott.

"Because Remy's not acting rationally." Charles joined them and made eye contact with Logan. "In order to pull Scott back Remy absorbed his feelings of guilt as well as his pain. Remy's severely depressed, probably even suicidal and we've got to find him."

Warren, who was flying toward them, landed and looked Charles in the eyes. "You want us to find him?"

"Yes, and be careful. Remy might try to harm himself. Don't give him a reason to panic." The change in Warren surprised Charles. The dislike Warren had displayed when it came to Remy seemed gone. Was that just because Remy had brought Scott back?

"Anything else we need to know, sir?" Bobby asked, seeing the thoughtful look in Charles' eyes.

"Yes," Charles started, then focused on Logan, "Creed might be close. He attacked Remy and I two nights ago. You'd better be careful."

"Creed? The bastard's here?" Logan bared his teeth. "If he's still close, I'll find the stinkin' bastard." Eager to leave, he headed for the doorway. "Are ya comin'?" He didn't wait for the others to join him. Creed was out there and it was time to make sure the bastard never hurt anyone he cared about again. Fighting Creed would also offer him a perfect outlet for his rage and pain. Killing Creed wouldn't bring Jean back, but at least his rage would serve a real purpose.

*

Jerking back to consciousness, Remy's eyes flashed open. Darkness surrounded him, but luckily his eyes provided him with perfect vision. Creed had obviously carried him off to some sort of cave. His hands were tied behind his back and Creed had tied his feet as well, leaving him no mobility at all. Fortunately, Creed had forgotten to blindfold him.

Maybe he could use his charging power to blow up the rope and free himself, but when he concentrated on building the kinetic charge, nothing happened. Terrified, he identified the weight around his neck. Merde, Creed had collared him!

His panic began to build, realizing he was completely defenseless. Mon Dieu, I'm not 'fraid to die, mais why couldn' he end it quickly? Does he wanna play games 'fore killin' me? What are his plans? It made sense that Creed wanted to prolong his suffering to get even with him. After all, this time Sinister wasn't around to fight him off.

What do I do now? I can' contact anyone, can' move... and no one's lookin' for me anyway. Who am I tryin' to fool? It ain' like de X-Men will come for me. Dey didn' come back for me in Antarctica and dey won' come for me now. I'm on my own...

The cold permeated his clothes and he shivered, sitting on the damp soil. When would Creed be back? The prospect of being at Creed's mercy made him nauseous. Creed undoubtedly knew many ways to make him suffer before ending his life. Oui, I wanna die, mais not dis way!

*

It didn't take Logan long to pick up Creed's scent. His claws popped from his knuckles and his anger kept building. If he kept this up, he would go feral eventually, but he didn't care; he needed to get the anger out of his system. "He's close," he warned his teammates. Scott was scouting ahead and Hank was sneaking through the bushes to his right. Bobby covered the left flank and Warren was keeping an eye on them from the sky.

Warren whispered into his microphone, "Logan, someone's headed your way."

Logan nodded his head, acknowledging the message. "Creed's mine," he mumbled into the mic. "Ya guys concentrate on findin' the Cajun." He removed the headset; it would only hamper him during battle. He sneaked closer, smelling Creed. Logan quickly turned around when Creed appeared behind him. "Yer gonna die, Creed."

"Promises..." Creed hissed and attacked. They had ruined his plans and had forced him to leave Remy behind in his shelter. Now he had to take them out first before he could 'train' the Cajun.

*

"Hank? Anything?" Warren coordinated their attack, having the best overall view.

"What happened to Logan?" They needed Logan's senses to lead them to Remy.

"Creed and Logan are fighting." Warren forced himself to concentrate on finding Gambit. Logan could handle Creed and wouldn't want them to interfere.

"And now what? How are we gonna find Remy?" Bobby changed into ice form and created an ice slide.

"Professor?" Scott hoped Charles was picking up on Remy's thoughts.

"Remy's thoughts are distorted... it's like his powers are gone... he's probably wearing a collar. I'm receiving the image of a cave... he's tied, hand and foot. Look for a cave." Charles wished he had an exact location, but Remy's thoughts were barely traceable.

Warren, Hank and Bobby, who had heard the professor as well, scanned for a cave.

"I've got something," Warren announced excitedly. "Scott, it's to your right. Bushes cover the entrance, but it definitely looks like a cave."

"I'm on it," Scott replied and headed for the cave. Now that he was close, he saw the entrance as well and he pulled away the branches that hide the cave from view. "Remy? Are you in here?"

Remy's head jerked up. Was he only imagining things or had he really heard Scott's voice? But what would Scott be doing here? "Cyke?"

Scott immediately identified Remy's voice and contacted his teammates. "I've found him," he whispered into the microphone. He distinctly heard Charles' relieved sigh.

"Then bring him home, Scott." A deep sigh escaped Charles' lips.

Scott moved deeper into the cave and smiled as Remy's eyes lit up in the darkness. "It's okay, Remy, we've found you."

Remy stared at Scott in disbelief. Why is he here? Did he really come for me? Why? I deserve to die for what I did to de Morlocks. But Scott was moving closer and now sat on his heels in front of him.

"Remy, did Creed hurt you?"

"I'm wearin' a collar," Remy whispered, surprised at how raw his voice sounded. "Tied me up as well... Cyke, what are you doin' here?"

The words caused Scott pain. "Did you really think we would desert you again?" The disbelief in Remy's eyes answered his question. "Yes, you did..."

Bobby entered the cave as well and joined them. "Hey, Remy, are you okay?"

Bobby? Bobby was here as well? Remy pinched his eyes half shut as the headache returned, tormenting him. Suddenly, his stomach rebelled and he doubled over.

Scott quickly reached out and steadied Remy as the younger man began to throw up. Smoothing back the long locks he waited for the bout of retching to end. "Bobby, freeze the collar and the ropes."

Bobby reached out and froze the rope and the collar, which shattered from the cold. "You're free again, Remy."

Tears appeared in his eyes and blurred his vision, but Remy still managed a 'Merci'. Lifting his eyes, he noticed Hank's arrival as well. "What are you doin' here?"

Scott cringed at hearing the disbelief in Remy's voice. "We're here to take you home, Remy."

"Home? Where's home?" Remy blinked his eyes, still feeling nauseous. "I..." He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence, passing out and collapsing against Scott.

"We'd better take him back to the lab," Scott decided, then noticed Logan was still missing. "Bobby, find Logan and help him. Warren, I need you to fly Remy back to the mansion; it's the fastest way. Hank, start for the mansion now." He figured that being jostled around in Hank's arms would only worsen Remy's condition. Remy would be far more comfortable in Warren's arms.

Hank nodded his head and hurried away, his long, agile limbs making it easy to move through the bushes and trees. He would probably reach the mansion before Warren did.

Warren felt oddly shy when Scott placed Remy in his arms. Surprised, he noticed just how much weight Remy must have lost for him to be able to carry the Cajun that easily. "Why don't you notify the professor that I'll arrive in five minutes?"

Scott nodded once. "Just hurry. I don't think Remy was supposed to be on his feet yet."

Warren left the cave, spread his wings and took to the sky.

Bobby created another ice slide and went in search of Logan. Scott stayed behind, needing a moment to deal with the expression that had shone from Remy's eyes. The young Cajun had really believed no one would come for him! "Damn it!"

*

Charles watched Remy sleep. Hank had hooked his patient back up to the monitors and was running several tests on him. The lab had buzzed with people after Remy had arrived. Scott, Warren, Bobby and Logan had been concerned and had wanted to know how Remy was doing. In the end, Charles had sent them away; fearing the turmoil would upset Remy.

"What do I do now?" Charles sighed. Remy had refused his help and he was at the end of his rope.

What? Who? Charles' head jerked back at hearing the unexpected mind voice. Looking about he realized he was still alone, but then... who had addressed him?

Sinister! A few hours ago he had used Cerebro to contact Sinister, but had failed. Sinister hadn't reacted to the message. Why had the scientist changed his mind?

"Henry? Why don't you get us something to eat?" Charles hated playing Hank like this, but Sinister was Remy's only chance. Maybe Sinister knew how to help the empath.

"Of course, sir," Hank said and rose from behind his computer. "Anything in particular that you want me to fetch?"

"Some sandwiches will do." Charles waited until Hank had left the lab and then focused his thoughts again. We're alone... He froze, surprised, when Sinister materialized in the center of the room. How had Sinister managed to get past the mansion's security system?

Sinister scanned his surroundings and headed for his son. "What did you do to him?" Cold rage sounded in his voice. He still didn't understand why Remy chose to stay with the X-Men who had only ever hurt him. Probing his son's mind, he was surprised to find the gaping darkness.

"Remy took away Scott's depression, but refuses to lower his shields to offer it a way out. He refuses my help... That's why I contacted you. You're his father and maybe you know of a way..." Charles' voice trailed off, seeing the anger in Sinister's eyes. How come he's experiencing emotions? Didn't Apocalypse take them away? How can Sinister be angry?

"You hurt my son." Sinister's red eyes glowed diabolically. "I should have stopped him when he told me he wanted to return to Westchester."

"It was Remy's idea to absorb Scott's depression. I didn't force him."

"He's an empath. You should have known he'd do something like that! And you call yourself a teacher? A mentor?" Sinister turned away from Charles and focused on Remy again. "Don't interrupt me."

Charles backed away from them, knowing he had failed Remy. Hopefully Sinister would be able to reach his son. He wanted to ask Sinister so many questions, but then kept in mind that the scientist had told him not to interrupt.

Sinister took in his son's haggard appearance and reached out telepathically, trying to determine the extent of the damage done to Remy. He found that Charles was right; all Remy had to do was to lower his shields and then the depression would have a way out. But Remy refused to listen to Xavier and he wouldn't follow his advice either; Remy only trusted one person unconditionally.

Charles sucked in his breath, seeing Sinister morph into Jean-Luc LeBeau. He recognized the Cajun from pictures Remy kept in his room. Sinister's morphing powers impressed him and the man's cunning almost frightened him. Sinister used all means necessary to achieve his goals.

"Remy? Mon fils? Wake up and listen to me." Again, he felt thankful that he had studied the Patriarch of the Thieves Guild, knowing the information would come in handy one day. Now he could effortlessly slip into Jean-Luc's hide.

"Poppa?" Remy slowly opened his eyes, recognizing the familiar voice. "Poppa? What are you doin' here?" He struggled to sit upright.

"You got yourself into trouble 'gain, petit. Why won' you listen to de professor?" Sinister played his role perfectly. Gently, he pushed back some stray locks and looked Remy in the eyes. "You have to lower your shields to let de bad feelings out, mon fils. I don' want you to suffer like dis."

"De professor told you 'bout Scott?" Remy managed a weak smile, thrilled to find his father at his bed.

"Oui, he did, petit. Mais now you have to listen to him. Lower your shields, Remy. Trust your poppa." Sinister clutched Remy's hands in his, hoping his son was still too weak and too confused to feel his mental probing. "Lower your shields and let go."

Fascinated, Charles watched Remy comply. The younger man lowered his shields and Remy panted softly as the dark feelings and thoughts fled his mind. His gaze traveled from Remy to Sinister and seeing the compassion in the scientist's eyes surprised him. Did Sinister really care about Remy?

"Did I do bien?" Remy asked in a tiny tone. His eyes were closing again, and he was slipping into a healing sleep now that the darkness had left his mind.

"You did great, petit. I'm proud of you." Sinister helped Remy lie down and pulled the blankets back up to his son's chin. "Now you can sleep, Remy. Everyt'in's bien."

"Merci, poppa... merci for bein' dere for me..." Remy smiled contently and closed his eyes, surrendering to sleep.

Sinister took a step away from Remy, trying to control his emotions. His emotions? Sinister paused, realizing his affection for his son was growing, but that was impossible! He didn't posses the ability to care, to feel! Bloody empathy! Morphing back, he met Charles' surprised eyes. "Take better care of him or I'll be back. Remy's precious to me and I won't allow you to hurt him again. Teach him what he needs to know, but don't you dare place him in danger ever again!"

A tesseract appeared behind Sinister and he walked toward it, not giving Xavier a chance to answer.

Charles massaged his temples, relieved that the tesseract was closing behind Sinister, swallowing the scientist. He had witnessed something extraordinary.

*

Sinister! Sinister coaxed Remy into lowering his shields. What the hell's going on?

He moved out of the shadows and fled the lab, still trying to make sense of the scene he had just witnessed.

"Professor? How's Remy doing?" Curiosity and concern had gotten the better of him and Scott had sneaked back into Hank's lab. Charles' head jerked up; the professor must have been lost in thought not to detect his presence. Was Remy's condition that bad?

"Sir?" Scott tried not to act too obvious when he looked past Charles, trying to gauge Remy's condition. The Cajun was asleep and looked unharmed.

"Remy will make a full recovery," Charles said reassuringly. "Creed didn't have the time to inflict any damage. A few hours ago Remy finally lowered his shields so that his depression had a way out. He'll be on his feet again shortly."

"I'm glad to hear that..." Scott moved closer to the professor and together they walked over to Remy, who was blissfully unaware of their presence. His features were peaceful in sleep and the blankets kept him warm. Remy looked comfortable and content, which put most of Scott's worries to rest.

Charles recognized the worried expression on Scott's face and asked, "What's troubling you?"

"Except Jean's death?" Scott immediately regretted his bitter reply. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It's just hard, you know? Living without her?"

"We never talked about this in private, Scott." Charles' gaze traveled from Remy to Scott. "How are you coping with losing her? Is there anything I can do to help?"

Scott's embittered laugh matched his prior bitter tone. "I doubt there's anyone who can help me deal with losing Jean to the Phoenix... I'll never love again. Jean was the other half of my soul and without her... I feel empty, sir."

Charles nodded emphatically. "It's only normal to feel like that, but Scott, life does goes on. I know it sounds harsh... I have lost people I cared for and I know how hard it is to keep going, but you don't have a choice. Your friends want to see you heal..." Charles heard Scott's intake of breath and quickly finished. "And although you feel like you have nothing left to live for, things will change, will get better, but the pain, the loss, they will always stay with you."

Scott looked away, unable to meet Charles' eyes right now. "I can't stay at the mansion, sir."

Charles' raised an eyebrow. "Why not? They want to help and comfort you."

"I can't bear seeing the pity in their eyes," Scott revealed in an unguarded moment. "It's the way they look at me... I don't want them to pity me... I want them to treat me normally..." But everyone stopped talking the moment he entered a room and then shot him awkward glances. "I know they're trying to deal with Jean's death as well, but..."

Charles understood. "Maybe you should move to the boathouse until we get a grip on the situation? Everyone's trying to cope with Jean's death and maybe you need some privacy to mourn properly?"

"But Remy's already living at the boathouse and I don't want to impose..." Scott's expression became thoughtful, then worried. "He moved out there to escape the hostility some of the team members feel toward him. It wouldn't be fair if I dragged my pain and guilt into his mind again. Remy doesn't know how to deal with such fierce emotions, does he?"

Charles shook his head. "No, he doesn't, but Remy's learning."

"It just wouldn't be fair to drag him into this. He needs his privacy too." Scott frowned. "Maybe I should leave Westchester for a while."

"Non, please don'..." Remy's eyes flashed open and met Scott's. "Believe me, mon ami, shuttin' everyone out ain' de answer. De feelings need a way out." He had given himself away, revealing that he wasn't really asleep, just pretending, but that didn't matter. Assuring Scott that he was welcome did. "Dere's a spare bedroom at the boathouse... we can work somet'in' out."

Scott shook his head. "You were awake all this time and overheard our conversation?"

"Not all de time," Remy corrected Scott. "Mais I heard most of it, oui." Remy nervously licked his lips. "Cyke, you're welcome at de boathouse. You don' have to leave Westchester. If it makes you feel more comfortable I'll move back to de mansion so you can be 'lone at de boathouse."

Scott sensed the honesty in Remy's words and felt tempted to accept the offer. The truth was that he didn't want to be completely alone and Remy's eyes showed no pity, only compassion. "Okay, I'll move into the boathouse... and please stay, don't move back to the mansion."

"Bien, merci, Scott." Remy's eyes closed again as he dozed off. The little stunt he had pulled earlier had exhausted him. Running away from the mansion had turned out to be a disastrous plan and now he had to rest in order to regain his strength, but he already felt better now that the depression was gone.

"He's asleep again," Charles whispered and then glanced at Scott. "You made the right decision."

"You think so?" Scott still sounded unconvinced.

"Yes..." Charles carefully weighed his next words. "Loneliness can drive an empath insane. He needs your company as much as you need his."

That thought had crossed Scott's mind as well, but he had chosen to ignore it. But it was the truth. A telepath, and to an even larger extent an empath, needed human contact in order to stay grounded. Maybe if he fortified his defenses his feelings wouldn't cause Remy pain. If he noticed that Remy was suffering because of him, he would leave anyway.

"I'm going to pack my things, sir. When do you think Remy will be able to leave?" He planned on taking Remy back to the boathouse with him when he left.

"A few hours," Hank said. He had overheard their last words. "But he'll need to take things slowly for the next few days." Scott nodded his head. He would make sure they both got some much-needed rest.

*

Remy sat upright on the exam table. His feet dangled several inches above the floor and he was watching Hank, who had just finished evaluating his last test. "So mon ami, am I 'kay to go?" He hated being confined to the lab; it brought back memories of Sinister operating on him.

Hank gave Remy a long, hard look. "Physically, you are fine, but mentally you're still recovering from the unexpected use of your empathic abilities. I suggest you learn how to control your powers first, before plunging into the deep again. Drawing in Scott's depression could have had serious consequences, even worse than what you experienced this time."

Remy ventured a weak smile. "You care, Henri... don' try to deny it." That realization made him feel warm inside. "Didn' know you cared..." After Antarctica, he had begun doubting they had ever cared about him.

"Of course I care," Hank said, indignant. Reaching behind him, he presented a warm sweater to Remy. "Here, you might need this. It's growing cold outside and Scott will arrive to pick you up in ten minutes."

Remy gracefully accepted the sweater and slipped into it. A few things still bothered him. One was Jean-Luc's unexpected visit and his mysterious disappearance. Why hadn't Jean-Luc stayed a little longer so that they could talk? Maybe he should call Jean-Luc later and ask him that very question. For now, he forced himself to focus on more urgent matters. "I wanna help Scott..." he mused aloud, uncertain what he really wanted to say. "What do I do?"

Hank sighed. "I do not know, my Acadian friend. Pushing Scott into talking about his feelings might cause him to keep everything bottled up inside." Hank then grinned. "I'm sure your empathy will tell you how best to proceed."

Remy lowered his eyes. Discussing his empathy made him uncomfortable. "Don' plan on usin' it on Scott ever 'gain."

Hank frowned. "And why's that?"

"Don' wanna invade his privacy, mon ami. He didn' want me in his mind dat first time and I ain' makin' de same mistake twice."

Hank carefully chose his next words. "Scott will need your support and your willing ear. Your empathy can help you determine his needs and it can help him heal."

"Not crossin' dat line ever 'gain, Henri. Scott didn' want me in his mind." Remy shook his head and his jaw set firmly. "Not reachin' out 'gain." He had learned his lesson.

"I think you're making a mistake, Remy," Hank said, sincerely. But you have to figure that out for yourself.

"Hey, Remy, are you ready to go?" Scott entered the lab, carrying a duffel bag. He was putting up a brave front, determined not to show how lost he really felt. He missed Jean's presence in his mind and he felt cold and empty. The loneliness was tearing him apart.

"Oui, je suis ready," Remy mumbled. He jumped off the exam table and sucked in his breath when vertigo unexpectedly overwhelmed him. After taking a few deep breaths, he felt better and the room stopped spinning around him. "Let's go."

Hank watched them leave, hoping they figured out how badly they needed each other. And how greatly they can benefit from reaching out to one another.

*

Scott drove the jeep to the boathouse, then put it into park and got out. Remy followed, moving slowly. He's probably still recovering. The professor said Remy needs rest. But he felt listless himself and lacked the energy to address the issue. As Remy headed for the master bedroom, Scott turned left and entered the smaller bedroom opposite Remy's room.

I'm glad Jean and I never stayed in this room. I couldn't stand being in here, remembering we slept in this room, in this bed. It's better this way. He flung his duffel bag onto the bed and then sat down. Letting himself fall backward, he sighed and stared at the ceiling. Jean, why? Why did the Phoenix take you away from me?

That question would stay unanswered forever, and Scott tried to accept that fact, but it was hard not knowing the reason why the Phoenix had finally consumed Jean. I want her back... want to feel her in my mind... I'm so lonely...

A sharp knock on the door startled him and Scott quickly sat upright. "Yes?"

"I'm gonna make dinner... wanna help?" Remy held his breath. No matter how strong Scott's shields were he was still receiving the other man's pain and he couldn't bear the thought of Scott hurting. "You can even pick de dish..."

Scott stared at his reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall. He looked too pale and even the visor couldn't hide his pained expression. Dinner... he wasn't hungry at all. "I think I'll pass, Remy, but thanks anyway."

Remy recognized the tactic; he had used it himself to keep people at a distance. That was why he knew how to counteract it. "Bien, den I won' cook. Ain' gonna cook jus' for myself and eat 'lone."

Scott immediately felt guilty. Remy had clearly lost weight these last few weeks and skipping dinner was a bad idea. "Okay, I'll help."

Remy's smile was forced, knowing only too well that he had manipulated Scott. "Is pasta bien?" He wasn't a particularly good cook, but he knew how to prepare pasta Alfredo.

"That's just fine," Scott said, resigned, and rose to his feet. Remy's retreating footfalls told him that the Cajun was already on his way to the kitchen and he waited another minute before opening the door. He needed that moment to compose himself, reminding himself that Remy was an empath. He probably felt my loneliness and this is just an attempt to lure me out of the room. Resigned, Scott descended the stairs and joined Remy in the kitchen. The Cajun was already boiling some water and chopping the vegetables. "What can I do?"

"Set de table?" Remy kept his eyes locked on the tomatoes. Meeting Scott's gaze now meant giving away his feelings. Scott's pain was strong and depressing him as well. He had to distract Scott, keep him busy. Maybe that would work.

Scott was setting the table, absentmindedly placing glasses, plates and utensils on the table. When had been the last time Jean and he had spent some time here? About a year ago. It felt awkward, being back here without her. Fortunately Remy was here to keep him from going insane. Hank had been right. They did need each other's company. "Is this okay?"

Remy looked up from stirring the sauce and nodded his head. "C'est bien, Cyke. Dinner will be ready in five."

Scott sat down at the table and watched Remy, wondering if his emotions were causing the Cajun pain. He almost asked, but kept quiet instead, as he wasn't sure he wanted to learn the answer. If Remy's answer was positive, he would have to leave the boathouse to ensure the Cajun's emotional balance, but the problem was that he didn't want to leave. Against all odds, he felt comfortable with having Remy close.

Remy felt uncomfortable as the silence continued. He desperately tried to think of something to say but came up empty. In the end, he placed the pasta on the table and after serving Scott and himself, he picked at the food.

Scott wasn’t hungry at all, but managed a few bites out of courtesy; after all, Remy had prepared this meal for him. "Tastes great, Remy."

"Merci." Remy forced himself to take a bite and swallowed the pasta. "I've got some wine as well. Want some?"

Scott shook his head. "No, thanks." Although he had never resorted to drinking before, he didn't want to risk embracing the oblivion alcohol provided.

Remy grew silent again and pushed the practically full plate away. He tightened his shields, wishing he had stronger defenses. For some reason Scott's emotions were still leaking into his mind. The silence became oppressive and Remy began to clean up the dishes. Scott was still staring into his glass of water.

Eventually, the tension became too much and Remy barely kept from fleeing the room. "Sorry, Cyke, mais I'm kinda tired. Gonna catch some shuteye. Will wake you in de mornin' for breakfast, 'kay?"

Startled from his musings, Scott quickly nodded his head. "Sounds just fine. I'm tired too."

Both men started for the doorway. Scott climbed the stairs first and quickly closed the door behind him, releasing a tormented sigh. He just couldn't pretend everything was fine when he felt dead inside.

After throwing his duffel bag on the floor, he stretched out on the bed. He grew cold and slipped beneath the covers, not bothering to undress. Hopefully sleep would come quickly.

*

Remy slipped into a shirt and sweat pants and cursed his trembling fingers. Really have to work on my shields... Won' last long dis way.

Remy lay down and pulled the comforter up to his chin. Shivers ran down his spine and he decided to leave a light on. Sleeping in the dark didn't appeal to him tonight. The dark hid shadows from his past, which still held the power to terrify him.

Scott's pain battered against his shields and they finally gave in, allowing the pain and guilt inside. "Non," he whispered brokenly. "Need stronger shields... can' do dis!" He fought his panic, and bit his bottom lip until it bled. As suddenly as it had begun, the panic attack stopped. "Mon Dieu, he's fallen 'sleep." Dreams weren't as strong as thoughts and his shields were solid enough to keep them outside. Won' be able to sleep tonight... not while feelin' like dis.

After tossing and turning for one hour, he gave up and settled for reading a book. He wouldn't find any sleep tonight.

*

"I give up," Remy mumbled softly. Scott's dreams were harder to lock out than he had thought. Dark, cold images continued to batter against his shields, making him nauseous. He had to stop the hurting, had to do something to escape the pain. After pushing back the covers, he left his bed and walked over to the doorway.

Wavering, he crossed the corridor and opened the door to Scott's room. As if by magic, his eyes were drawn to the sleeping man. Scott was moving about in bed, almost thrashing as the nightmares continued to torment him. The roar of the Phoenix echoed in Scott's mind and Remy leaned against the wall for support as the roar swept through his mind as well.

"Jean? Jean, where are you? Why can't I find you?" Scott was mumbling in his sleep, arms moving without direction. "Need you..."

Remy swallowed hard. Now that Scott was asleep, the trauma was surfacing again. Mon Dieu, I had dreams like dem after Belle died... and den 'gain after Benjamin and Dave died... He knew exactly what Scott was going through. After making his way to Scott's bed, he sat down, watching the other man squirm.

"Please? I'm so alone... need you."

For one moment Remy pretended Scott was reaching for him and not Jean. The next moment he hated himself for thinking it. Have to suppress my feelings for him. Can' feel dis way right now... it's wrong!

He was startled when Scott unexpectedly reached for him. Scott's right hand clawed the fabric of his sweat pants and Remy involuntarily held his breath. Scott moved in the bed, rolling toward him and before he realized what was happening, Scott's head was resting in his lap. Scott's right hand had a tight grip on his leg and his left curled itself around his waist. Shocked, he realized that he was trapped. He couldn’t free himself without waking Scott in the process.

Scott would undoubtedly feel embarrassed for clinging to him like this so Remy decided not to wake the other man. Now what? Remy rested his back against the headboard and tried to get as comfortable as possible. It looked like he was stuck here for quite some time.

Unintended, his fingers tangled in Scott's hair and he fingered a lock. He had never allowed himself to fantasize about having Scott this close, but things had changed. Jean was dead and Scott needed his comfort. Took me a long time to accept Jean-Luc's touch, mais when I did I began to heal... Touch was important, but Scott had never indicated he wanted to be touched in whatever way so he had kept his distance... until now.

Scott snuggled up to him and Remy held his breath. Was Scott under the impression that Jean was close or was Scott content with being close to him? Why was Scott reacting like this? He probably t'inks Jean's close... alt'ough I can' understand how he could confuse me wit' her.

Scott was now peacefully asleep. The nightmares had ended and he was resting comfortably. There was no way he could shatter Scott's rest by leaving the bed. Scott needed to sleep and so did he. He should try to asleep as well. Maybe he would manage to fall asleep now that Scott was at peace.

He shifted slightly, finding a more comfortable position, then pulled the comforter close. It now covered Scott up to his chin and Remy felt warm as well; Scott's body heat was keeping him warm. Closing his eyes, he tried hard not to think about Scott's possible reactions when the other man woke up in the morning.

*

The first thing Scott became aware of when he woke up was how warm and comfortable he felt. Last night bad dreams had tormented him, but now even the memory seemed vague and non-threatening. What had changed?

Slowly, Scott opened his eyes. He immediately recognized his surroundings; he was at the boathouse, staying with Remy.

Huh? What? The rhythmic movement beneath him puzzled him. When he looked down, he realized he was resting against something warm, no make that someone warm. Turning his head, he looked up and startled, realizing he was lying very close to Remy. The Cajun was sitting upright in bed and somehow he had managed to snuggle up to the other man during the night. His head rested in Remy's lap and his hands were curled around the Cajun's waist and knee, tightly holding on. Remy never had a chance to free himself.

Carefully, he tried to untangle himself, but Remy moaned softly, protesting the movement and he froze. Now what? Moving cautiously, he managed to pull his hand away from beneath Remy's knee. But his other arm was still wrapped around Remy's waist.I pulled him close during the night... but what's he doing here in the first place? Why is he sleeping in my bed? I'm sure I went to bed alone.

Sometime during the night the nightmares had ended; was that because Remy had come to his room to comfort him? Had he accepted that comfort in his sleep? Shit, this is embarrassing. He probably sensed my nightmares and came here to calm me down. From the way I was clinging to him, I grabbed hold of him and never let go again.

Embarrassed, Scott closed his eyes again. How would Remy react when the Cajun woke up? Would Remy think less of him because he had succumbed to the nightmares? This is the Phoenix' fault. Why did she have to take Jean away from me? Jean would know how to react in a situation like this.

Scott sucked in his breath when Remy stirred. The young Cajun was trying to find a more comfortable position. Sneaking a glance at him, Scott found that the red on black eyes were opening.

*

Remy struggled for breath when Scott's discomfort hit him. Mon Dieu, I fell 'sleep... it's mornin' and Scott's 'wake... I should apologize and give him back his privacy. Come on, say somet'in', Remy! He was upset himself; having Scott this close was something he had always wanted to happen, but it felt so wrong. Scott was only here because he was mourning Jean's death.

His mental powers told him that Scott was awake and that he was being watched from behind the ruby glasses. Remy cleared his throat and decided to apologize right here and now. "Sorry, Cyke, didn' wanna fall 'sleep, mais I was tired too." He had better leave now.

"Wait," Scott said, placing his hand on Remy's arm to prevent the other man from leaving. "What happened last night?"

Remy blinked his eyes in surprise. He hadn't expected Scott to want to discuss this. "You had nightmares and I tried to help."

"The nightmares stopped," Scott recalled. "I'm sorry for ending up sprawled all over you." Suddenly he realized that he was still clutching Remy's waist and he quickly let go, sitting up in bed.

Remy blushed. "C'est bien. I needed poppa close too after..." He stopped just in time, determined never to reveal his short stay on the streets. Scott would lose the little respect he had for him.

Scott raised a puzzled eyebrow, realizing just how little he knew about Remy. "You sound like you know what I'm going through."

"I do... kinda," Remy added hesitantly. "My wife died in my arms years ago."

Scott sat cross-legged and continued to stare at Remy. "Your wife?" He hadn't known Remy had been married!

"Belle died in my arms. De Brood killed her."

"Belle?" Scott cocked his head. "Why didn't you ever tell us? When did this happen?"

Remy really didn't feel up to answering Scott's questions, but he gave in, sensing the other man's genuine interest. "Happened five years ago... I never told anyone 'cause no one ever asked."

Scott swallowed hard. My God, had they shown so little interest in the Cajun? "I'm sorry she died."

Remy shrugged his shoulders. "She's 'live 'gain."

Scott was agape, revealing his surprise. "What?"

Remy didn't know how much he could reveal to Scott about the Guilds' ways. "Magic potion," he whispered eventually.

"Then why aren't you with her?" Growing cold, Scott wrapped the comforter around himself.

"Can' go back home. I'm banished. N'awlins is off limits to me..." Thoughtfully, he added, "The handfastin' was only for five years and dey’re passed now. Belle's free 'gain..."

"I can't believe you never told us," Scott whispered, guiltily. "I can't believe we never asked."

Silence descended on the room and both men were busy sorting out their own thoughts when professor's Xavier's mind voice suddenly swept through their minds. Scott? I need you to come to the mansion. There's something I need to show you. Sir, I don't want to return to the mansion just yet. Scott exchanged a glance with Remy, whose facial expression revealed his surprise at hearing Charles' mind voice unexpectedly. He had been a little startled himself.

Scott nodded once. I'm on my way, sir. He had never before defied one of Charles' orders and he reacted instinctively, trusting Charles to act in his best interest.

We need to use Cerebro... Charles mused.

I'll be with you in ten; Scott promised and then got to his feet. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed the lost expression on Remy's face. The Cajun had just revealed part of his past to him and now he was running out on him. "We'll talk later, okay?"

"Sure," Remy said, trying to appear unfazed. "You go see de professor and mebbe we can have brunch after you get back?"

"Sounds like a plan." Scott entered the bathroom and splashed some water in his face. Behind him, he heard Remy's retreating footsteps as the Cajun returned to his own room. I wonder why he opened up to me...

Scott changed into some clean clothes and left his room, wondering why the professor needed to talk to him so urgently.

*

Charles wrung his hands, feeling nervous now that Scott could arrive any moment. When he had contacted Scott telepathically he had acted instinctively, without thinking it over thoroughly. Now he wondered if he should have handled the situation differently.

"Sir?" Scott entered the room and sought out Charles' eyes, which were draped.

"Come with me..." Charles guided Scott toward Cerebro and gestured him closer. "Two nights ago I used Cerebro and... suddenly a program came online. I think you should look at it. I'll leave you alone now."

Scott wanted to ask Charles what was going on, but the older man had already left the room. "What the hell's going on?"

Suddenly Cerebro projected a hologram on the wall and Scott took a step back, startled at seeing Jean in front of him. "What? Jean?"

"Scott, sweetie... I'm so sorry. I hoped you'd never see this message." Jean's shape flickered and Cerebro stabilized the image. "I'm sorry to leave you behind. I don't know how I died, but I'm sorry I left you..."

Tears dripped from beneath the ruby glasses and Scott reached out, trying to touch the hologram, but his hand passed right through it. "Not real," he reminded himself.

"It feels strange, recording this message, knowing you will see it once I'm dead, but I need to tell you something."

Scott sobbed, hearing Jean's voice again. He had never thought he would ever hear it again! "Why, Jean, why?" Watching the hologram caused him pain. Jean was standing in front of him and yet he couldn't touch her. She wasn't real; she was only a hologram. He constantly had to remind himself of that.

"Scott, I love you, sweetie... I'll always love you. I know you're hurting badly because I'm gone. The telepathic link was broken when I died and I hope you are unharmed. I never wanted to hurt you, but the link... it's so strong." Jean paused. "I recorded this message the day after Remy returned. I felt the need to do this because his disappearance and his return reminded me of how fragile life can be. I want to tell you how much I love you. I can't imagine that I would ever leave you willingly, so someone or something took me away from you."

Scott felt paralyzed. Had Jean known something bad was going to happen to her? Or was this just coincidence?

"I know you're hurting, sweetie, asking yourself why I left you, but Scott, you have to move on. You have friends and you owe it to me as well as to them to be the best you can. The team needs you." Jean obviously hesitated, licked her lips, but then carried on. "And it's okay to love again, Scott. I don't want you to mourn my death for the rest of your life. You deserve to find love again. Don't deny yourself that because you feel you have to stay faithful to me. Scott, I'm sure... I know for a fact, that someone out there loves you, will grow to love you as much as I do... did. Damn, this is harder than I thought." Jean's voice cracked.

Scott let his tears freely flow. "I'll never love again as long as I'll live," he vowed passionately.

"I know you love me, Scott, but I'm dead and you're alive. Don't isolate yourself. Let the others comfort you. I know you, Scott. You'll push them away and try to deal with my death on your own. It won't work!" Jean's watering eyes stared into a void. "I can't see you right now, but you can see me. Listen to me, Scott, don't bury yourself in self-pity. I won't let you!" Scott finally managed a weak smile.

"I'd better end this message now or I'll burst out in tears... Scott, I love you, sweetie... You made me happy and I know there's someone out there who can make you happy in return. Don't hang onto the past, to my death. Move on. Please, Scott... promise me you'll move on."

"I can't," Scott whispered brokenly. Then the image flickered and faded. The hologram was gone and Scott felt extremely distressed. "Jean, how can you think I could ever love someone else? I only love you! No one else, only you!" Scott dropped to his knees and wildly shook his head. "I'll never love again!"

*

Charles, who had been waiting outside, entered the room and reached for Scott. "Scott?" He managed to pull Scott to his feet, and as he stared into the tear filled eyes, he saw his own pain reflected there. "I loved her as well, but she's gone, Scott. Jean's right. You have to move on."

"How? How can I move on when I’ve lost the only person I ever loved?" Scott wiped away his tears. "How can she ask me to love again? No one can take her place."

"She knows that no one can take her place, that isn't what she was trying to say. She wants you to know that it's okay if you ever fall in love again. She wants you to be happy and now that she's gone she hopes someone else will love you the way she did."

"No one can love me the way she did," Scott said, stubbornly. Suddenly, he felt tired and drained. He started for the doorway, intent on returning to the boathouse and lying down to lose himself in sleep and oblivion.

"Scott?" Scott's distress was obvious and Charles wondered if he shouldn't stay close instead.

"I'm going back to the boathouse," Scott announced. "I need to work through this."

Charles nodded his head. Remy was at the boathouse and the Cajun would keep a close eye on Scott. Watching Scott leave, he hoped the younger man would one day truly understand what Jean had been trying to tell him.

"Not again!" Scott sighed, waking up from another deep and dreamless sleep. Next to him was Remy, the Cajun's back resting against the headboard. This is deja vu. I woke up like this yesterday as well. I had nightmares again last night and this time about the hologram Cerebro projected. Remy must have come inside to comfort me.

His head rested in Remy's lap once more and this time he had wrapped both arms around the other man's waist, trapping Remy. I wonder how long this will continue? How much longer will Remy comfort me? He'll grow tired of it in the end. I should leave Westchester; maybe travel, but I shouldn't stay here. My presence is causing him pain. He might not admit it, but the fact that he's here is proof enough.

Scott looked up and found that Remy was still sound asleep. Dark circles disfigured his eyes and Scott felt guilty, knowing he was the reason why Remy wasn't getting enough sleep.

Slowly, he tried to pull back, but the movement caused Remy to stir. The red on black eyes flashed open and Remy quickly scanned his surroundings, searching for any possible threat. "I did it again, didn't I?" Scott released Remy's waist and sat upright, distancing himself again.

Remy quickly composed himself. When he had woken up, he had been disorientated, but then he had remembered where he was; the boathouse. "De nightmares returned," he offered apologetically. "Dey kept me from fallin' 'sleep."

"Apparently they go away when you're close," Scott summarized, feeling surprised. Why's that? Focusing inward, he tried to identify the feelings he was experiencing now. I don't feel alone. I feel Remy at the edges of my mind. Remy's presence made the void in his mind more bearable. Oh, Jean...

Remy blinked his eyes and stretched carefully. His lower back was hurting after being forced to sleep in this uncomfortable position. Carefully, he avoided looked at Scott and disentangled himself from the comforter. After rising to his feet, he started for the door. "Am gonna fix breakfast."

Scott nodded once. "I'll take a quick shower and then join you." Remy closed the door behind him and Scott released a strangled sigh. "Damn, I did it again! Why can't I control my feelings? I don't want to rob him of his sleep." When he had agreed to move into the boathouse he hadn't fully understood just how sensitive the empath was. His feelings were constantly battering against Remy's shields... "Maybe the professor can help me control them."

Although he had slept well last night, Thanks to Remy's presence, he still felt tired and emotionally drained. He forced himself to leave the bed and to head for the bathroom. If it had been up to him, he wouldn't have left his bed all day long, hiding there. But Remy wouldn't allow it, would kick his butt if necessary and Scott managed a weak smile. In that one aspect he surely reminds me of Jean. She didn't take any crap either.

As Scott stripped and turned on the shower, a sense of peace descended on him. Jean would have been proud of the way Remy was handling everything.

*

When Scott returned to the boathouse later that day, he found it empty. He had spent the last few hours in Charles' company. The professor had helped him strengthen his shields, but he had blocked every attempt the older man had made to discuss his feelings. He wasn't ready yet to talk to Charles about Jean. The pain was still private, his own. No one else was entitled to share it with him.

The professor had escorted him back to the front door and the other X-Men had kept their distance, but he had seen the pity in Warren and Bobby’s eyes. Rogue's had been cold and he had overheard her question his decision to stay at the boathouse, claiming Remy was trying to turn him against her. Did she really think that the world revolved about her? Scott shook his head at the memory. He had simply ignored her comments.

Logan's injuries, which he had contracted in his fight with Creed, had completely healed. The Canadian had been oddly silent, just watching him enter and leave the mansion. He's had a crush on Jean for years... this is hard on him too, Scott realized.

But where was Remy? Looking about, Scott frowned. The boathouse was deserted and he hoped Remy hadn't left the premises. Creed was probably still out there. Logan was very secretive about his fight with Creed, but they had learned the hard way that it was nearly impossible to kill Creed.

He wondered about Remy's sudden departure. The Cajun hadn't told him he would be leaving as well. What if Creed had found a way to get to Remy? No, there were no signs of struggle, everything was in its place. Still, he didn't feel comfortable not knowing where Remy was.

It's been snowing for some hours now, Scott mused. The snowfall had started shortly after he had left for the mansion. If he was lucky he could trace Remy's footprints in the snow and they would lead him to the Cajun.

He picked up the coat he had just shed, shrugged into it and left the boathouse again. Once outside, he scanned the blanket of snow, cursing the fact that it was still snowing and the falling snowflakes were now covering up Remy's tracks. But, looking carefully, he found more footprints and assuming they were Remy's, he followed them.

They led him to a deserted chapel at the outskirts of the mansion grounds. Once a week a priest checked on the chapel and then left again. The chapel hardly had any visitors; no one knew its whereabouts, except Remy apparently.

Scott shook off the snow that had settled onto his coat and then opened the door. Only the dim sunlight lit the inside of the chapel and Scott's gaze was drawn toward the small altar. Virgin Mary was looking down the aisle from her pedestal and a few candles were burning at her feet. He found Remy kneeling in front of the statue, staring into the candles.

Maybe he should leave. Remy seemed lost in thought and the Cajun probably wanted some privacy. He turned to leave, but then his left foot hit a wooden bench. The sound echoed through the chapel and Remy jumped to his feet. His bo staff appeared in his right hand, ready to fight off a possible attacker. Scott hesitantly turned to face Remy and was shocked to see tears flowing down the younger man's face. "Remy?" Scott stood his ground, shivering as Remy's eyes pierced his soul. Feeling guilty for intruding, he started for the door again, but Remy's voice stopped him.

"Non, stay."

Scott stopped in his tracks, turned around and looked into Remy's eyes. The next move was up to Remy.

*

Shocked, Remy averted his eyes. "Why are you here? How did you find me?" He hadn't counted on Scott tracking him down; what reason could Scott have for coming after him? "Did somet'in' happen to de team?"

"The team's fine," Scott assured him. "I followed your tracks in the snow because I got worried when I returned to the boathouse and you weren't there..."

Remy sat down on a wooden bench and watched the flames dance. He had lighted three candles so far. He sucked in his breath as Scott walked up to him and sat down beside him.

"What are you doing here, Remy?" His curiosity had gotten the better of him.

"Lightin' candles," Remy whispered. Feeling the wetness on his face, he quickly wiped away his tears. He hadn't been aware of the fact that he was crying. When had that happened? Embarrassed, he wondered if Scott thought any less of him after seeing him cry.

"I can see that, but why are you lighting candles?" Scott sounded as puzzled as he felt.

"I come here every year..." Remy drew in a deep breath. He didn't want to burden Scott with the losses in his life and hoped the other man would change the subject.

"Every year?" Surprised, Scott counted the candles. There were three of them. Remy had been with the team for four years now and he had never noticed the Cajun sneaking off to the chapel? "And we never noticed."

"Don' feel bad 'bout dat," Remy said, smiling sadly. "I made sure you never noticed."

"So why the candles?" Scott tried to catch Remy's eyes, but the Cajun was staring blindly into the candles, tears still simmering in the depths of his glowing orbs.

"One candle for every person I lost," Remy mumbled, absentmindedly, almost drowning in memories.

"Who did you lose?" Suddenly it was very important to Scott to find out, to make up for the disinterest he had displayed all these years. He knew so very little about Remy and it made him feel guilty. Maybe he could still make up for his mistakes.

Remy laughed bitterly. "You'd betta not ask."

"I want to know... please?" Although Remy was reluctant to discuss this, Scott was determined to push it. It was time he took an interest in the Cajun, something that he should have done years ago.

Remy swallowed hard. "Do you really want to know?" Discussing something this private made him uncomfortable and he didn't want to add to Scott's misery.

"Yes, I really want to know." Remy's hand was twitching and Scott suddenly felt bad for pushing Remy, but something told him the Cajun needed to talk about this. Remy had offered him comfort since Jean's death and it was only fair he returned the favor. "Please tell me."

Remy caved in. For years he had kept this inside and the only person who had offered to listen was Xavier, but the professor wasn't here right now, but Scott was. "Bien," he whispered, giving up his resistance. "De first's for my mot'er... she died when I was born. I never met her." Should have said, she was murdered when I was born, mais I don' wanna tell him 'bout Sinister's involvement.

Scott bit his bottom lip. "I never knew that." He felt like a heel for never talking to Remy about this past. He had interviewed all the other members of the team, why not Remy?

Remy shrugged his shoulders, determined not to give Scott too much information.

"And the second candle?" Scott suddenly realized how bad this could get. Remy had probably never discussed this with anyone and being an empath, his emotions might overwhelm the Cajun.

"Philippe," Remy whispered, pushing back memories, but one stood out; regaining consciousness and finding Philippe dying. Although Philippe had tried to sell his virginity he had long ago forgiven him.

"Who's Philippe?" Scott had the uncanny feeling that Remy was hiding a lot from him, only telling him parts of his past.

"I was nine when I met Philippe..." Remy stopped himself from telling Scott everything. Can' do dat. Don' wanna lose de li'l respect he has for me... Scott can never find out 'bout me bein' a whore. I'll take dat secret to de grave.

"Yes?" Scott hoped Remy would continue, but the Cajun remained silent. Okay, I'm getting the message and I won't go there. "What about the third candle?"

"Belle... alt'ough she's 'live, she died... she ain' de femme she used to be. Deat' changed her and I ain' sure it was for de betta." Remy shivered. He knew what the Elixir had done to Julian, and wondered how it had affected Belle. I'll probably never find out... Belle's in N'Awlins and I can never go back dere.

Scott watched as Remy picked up two more candles and his face contorted, realizing there was more to come. Scott wondered if he should stop now, give Remy back his privacy to mourn the ones he had lost, but...

"Dese are for Benjamin and Dave," Remy whispered as he lit the candles.

"Who are Benjamin and Dave?" The two candles joined the other three and Scott watched as more tears made their way down Remy's face. The Cajun quickly wiped them away, but it was too late, he had already seen them.

"For a few days dey were my family," Remy murmured, barely audible. "Dey taught me to trust 'gain, mais dey died as well."

"They died at the same time or...?"

Remy nodded his head once and decided to tell Scott the truth. Was Scott homophobic? He would find out. "Dey were lovers."

Scott never expected that one. "And you knew them because...?"

"Creed had slashed me open in de Morlock tunnels and Dave found me, he was a cop. Benjamin was my doctor and when dey realized I was 'lone dey offered to take me in while I was healin'. De day dey died was one of de worst in my life."

"How did they die?"

"Dey were murdered," Remy revealed in a shaky tone. Taking hold of another candle he placed it alongside the others. "Dis one's for my fat'er..."

Scott frowned. "I thought Jean-Luc LeBeau was still alive..."

"Jean-Luc adopted me. He ain' my real fat'er." He was treading on dangerous grounds and should shut up, but...

"Your real father is dead then?"

"His soul is," Remy remarked cryptically. As far as he was concerned Sinister was dead to him. The scientist had killed his mother and only kept him alive because of his DNA.

His soul is? What kind of answer is that? Scott wavered, wanting to ask more questions, but he simply stared at the candles. There were now six of them.

"You wanna light one?" Remy offered Scott a candle.

"Maybe I should," Scott mumbled. "For Jean... I should light a candle for Jean."

Remy nodded approvingly. "It helps to pick a day to remember dem. Makes you feel closer to de ones you’ve lost. Keepin' it all inside don' work, trust me, been dere, done dat. You've got to acknowledge dem, acknowledge de pain. It ain' easy, mais it keeps me sane. Mebbe it will work for you as well."

Scott lit the candle and placed it next to Remy's. "What do you do? Say a prayer for them?"

"I ain' dat religious," Remy admitted hesitantly. "Poppa taught me de words, mais... I ain' sure I still believe... mais I like de peace and quiet here... it's bien for rememberin' dem."

Scott sat quietly, understanding the wisdom in Remy's words. The Cajun had found a ritual that offered him some peace of mind and he had to admit that it was working for him as well. Being away from the mansion, the quiet managed to calm him. It was peaceful here and the flickering of the candles made him smile weakly. Jean would have approved of him remembering her in this way.

"Thank you, Remy," Scott whispered eventually. "It's working. Losing Jean still hurts, but... I like remembering her. It feels like giving her a place... like..." Why was it so hard to find the words? "I know she's dead... I'll never see her again... or hear her thoughts in my mind... but this way it feels like she's still close... a part of me... I'm explaining this poorly."

"I understand, mon ami... I do. It feels de same way for me. I'll never forget Benjamin and Dave, dey'll always be here..." Remy placed his right hand over his heart.

"They meant a lot to you, didn't they?" Scott wondered why.

"Oh, oui, more dan you can imagine..." Suddenly memories of Mike took him by surprise. At first, he was tempted to light a candle for Mike as well to remember a love that couldn't be, but Mike was alive and had found a new love. He had to let go, hoping Daniel would make Mike happy. A blush crept over his face as he remembered making love to Mike... It had been a divine experience and suddenly he felt glad he had never been that intimate with Rogue. There had never been real love between Rogue and he; it wouldn't have been making love. Mike taught me de difference between makin' love and fuckin'...

"Remy, I'm getting cold." Scott was shivering. The chapel wasn't heated and the cold was slowly permeating the building, sneaking into his bones. "Want to return to the boathouse?"

"C'est bien," Remy replied, watching the candles burn. He rose from the bench and started for the doorway. Scott followed him at a distance and Remy felt grateful that the other man was giving him a moment to compose himself. His eyes had finally dried and he felt like he could never cry again. He had shed all the tears he could cry.

*

After eating dinner in silence, they retreated to their rooms. Remy decided to take a long, hot bath and tried to relax as the warm water cradled his body... but it was starting again... Non, mon Dieu, not 'gain, not dis quickly!

Scott had fallen asleep and the nightmares were back to torment him. Remy pinched his eyes shut, trying to lock Scott out, but failed miserably. Scott's loneliness continued to call out to him and in the end he gave in. He stepped out of the bathtub and wrapped a towel around his wet hair. After drying his skin he walked into the bedroom and slipped into the sweatshirt and pants, which were waiting for him on his bed.

Soundlessly, he opened the door and walked into the corridor. What if Scott had locked his door tonight? Then he would be facing a sleepless night. Hesitantly, he tried the doorknob and sighed in relief as the door opened. Scott was on top of the comforter, still fully dressed. He was thrashing, tightly snared by the nightmares and completely unaware of his visitor.

Remy came to a standstill in front of Scott's bed and considered his options. I told Hank I would never 'gain use my empat'y on Scott. He didn' want me in his mind dat first time and I can' invade his mind 'gain, mais...

Scott moaned in pain, flung himself onto his right side and extended his arms, as if reaching for someone. For Jean of course... Undecided, he remained motionless, but then Scott's movements became even more frantic and the thrashing grew worse. He actually feared that Scott might fall from the bed and land hard on the floor. It urged him to take action.

Remy soundlessly approached Scott and sat down on the side of the bed. He felt guilty when he reached out empathically, trying to assure Scott that he wasn't alone. Only a few days ago he had promised to never use his empathy on Scott again and now he was doing something he truly loathed. These last nights his presence had been enough to calm Scott down, but not this time. Scott's arm suddenly caught him around his middle and the other man began pulling him down until he settled on his side, facing Scott. Somehow Scott managed to tuck his head beneath his chin and then pulled him even closer. He had no way out. Scott was holding him tightly, protectively, and if he was honest with himself, he had to admit he loved being held like this.

Mais it's wrong. He's under de impression dat he's holdin' Jean... Briefly, he considered freeing himself, but when he tried to pull back, Scott reacted by tightening his hold. Dat ain' gonna work. He won' lemme go... now what? Don' really have a choice... have to spend de night here...

Resigned, he stopped attempting to free himself of Scott's embrace. A contented sigh escaped Scott's lips and Remy realized he was stuck here for another night.

*

Fuck... It happened again... Embarrassed, Scott stared at the sleeping man in his arms. He remembered being tortured by nightmares, featuring the Phoenix, and then the bad dreams had gone away. A warm presence had wrapped itself around his thoughts, assuring him he wasn't alone, offering comfort and support. That must have been Remy.

The nightmares had been particularly bad last night, probably prompted by remembering Jean as he had lit the candle. Jean, I need you!

Scott wondered what to do next. Remy was still asleep and he couldn't untangle himself from the younger man without waking Remy. And he looks like he’s missed out on a lot of sleep lately. Have I been keeping him awake?

This was becoming awkward. These last nights he had only been able to sleep because Remy was close. Does that mean I'll wake up with him in my arms for the next few weeks, months? What if I move back to the mansion and he wants to stay here?

Scott closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He had to discuss this with Remy. It wasn't fair to the Cajun to pretend nothing had changed between them.

Remy moved about, yawned and slowly opened his eyes. Briefly, he felt disorientated and trapped. Strong arms were holding him tight and he flashed back to Hugo, holding him down. It took a lot out of him to calm down again, but he didn't want to worry Scott.

"Good morning, Remy," Scott said eventually, realizing it was up to him to address this.

"Mornin'," Remy stuttered, confused. Why was Scott still holding him? He expected Scott to jerk back once the other man realized their position.

"I had nightmares again, didn't I?" Scott loosened his hold on the Cajun, but didn't let go yet. Remy had seen him through the night and he didn't want to appear ungrateful by suddenly pulling away.

"Oui, dey were bad..." Remy suddenly felt silly talking to Scott's chest and pushed away from the other man until he was able to look at Scott's face. Merde, I hate de ruby glasses...

"Thank you," Scott whispered, surprised at seeing the expression in Remy's unguarded eyes. There was compassion, affection and something else, which he couldn't label. "But we have to talk about this, Remy."

Remy nodded his head once. "Want me to stay in my room from now on?"

Scott considered his answer carefully. "Will that work? Sleeping separately?"

Remy shrugged his shoulders. "I can' help you fight de nightmares from a distance. Doesn' work dat way. You'll have nightmares wit'out me bein' close and I won' be able to sleep 'cause your nightmares will keep me 'wake."

"That's what I figured..." Scott frowned. "That won't work, will it?"

"Don' t'ink so," Remy admitted, uncomfortably.

"But sleeping close will?" Scott finally admitted the truth to himself. To sleep undisturbed he needed Remy close.

"Oui." Remy averted his eyes and stared at the wall instead. He couldn't believe they were having this conversation.

*

"I can't sleep in the master bedroom, Remy, not yet. I stayed in that room with Jean and there are too many memories involved. Could you move in here?" Asking Remy to stay was easier than he had thought.

"What?" Remy's eyes grew big.

"I'm asking you to sleep in the same bed with me. We both need rest and..." Remy's startled expression alarmed him. "What's wrong?"

"I can'..." Remy unexpectedly sat upright and was about to flee the room, when Scott's hand settled on his arm, keeping him in place. "Last night I used my empat'y to calm you down. I know you don' want me in your mind, mais I'll do it 'gain if you allow me dis close."

So that's it... that's why I didn't feel alone last night. It makes sense, doesn't it? Jean lived in my mind for years and without her I feel empty, incomplete. Remy filled that void by connecting to me... Scott moistened his dry lips. "Remy? It's okay. I know you did it to comfort me. I'm not angry with you."

Remy felt terribly confused. "Are you sure you're bien wit' it?"

"Yes..." Scott sat upright as well and waited for to Remy look at him. "About my suggestion... I'll understand if you don't want to sleep close to me..."

"Non, I don' mind dat..." Remy bit his lower lip.

"We'll see what happens tonight, okay?" Scott placed his feet on the floor and rose from the bed. "I need a shower. I'll meet you downstairs in a few minutes..."

Remy nodded his head, got to his feet and returned to his bedroom. He collapsed on the bed and clutched his face between his hands. Had Scott really invited him to share the same bed? Stop it! It's only 'cause de nightmares leave him 'lone when I'm close. It ain' 'cause he wants me dere... he wants an empath dere...

Moving mechanically, he headed for the bathroom. A shower sounded pretty good to him too right now.

*

Remy was looking through the kitchen cupboards, wondering what to prepare for dinner. The day had passed quickly. Scott had left the boathouse to take a walk with the professor and Remy had spent most of the day reading and jogging. He was in a bad shape and it was time he started working out on a regular basis.

"We need to go grocery shoppin'," Remy sighed. "Can' make pasta 'gain!" He listened to Scott, who was channel surfing in the living room. Scott had a hard time relaxing and had already offered to continue teaching the younger students, but Charles had told him to take more time to mourn. Remy agreed with Charles. It was way too early for Scott to return to his normal routine. Maybe once the nightmares grew less.

Bored, Scott left the living area and joined Remy in the kitchen. The Cajun was searching the content of the fridge and didn't seem pleased. "What's for dinner?" He wasn't hungry, but realized that if he refused to eat, Remy would do the same.

Remy closed the refrigerator. "Don' know... we don' have dat many choices..." He turned around and glanced at Scott. The other man looked relaxed, but he still felt the unease in Scott's mind. Maybe it was the prospect of sleeping in the same bed tonight.

A knock on the front door interrupted their conversation. "I'm on it," Scott said and walked over to the doorway. Opening it, he smiled. "Warren, Bobby... and is that pizza?" Seeing them here surprised him.

Remy froze in his tracks. He could deal with Bobby's presence, but why was Warren here? He's probably here to check on Scott... mebbe I should disappear upstairs and give dem some privacy? Remy moved quickly and climbed the stairs. After closing the bedroom door behind him, he sat down on the bed. Tired, he lay down and stared at the ceiling. Oui, should give dem some privacy... Warren won' want me 'round...

He tightened his shields to the maximum and tried not to eavesdrop. Picking up his book, he rolled onto his left side and began to read. Although his stomach growled hungrily, he managed to ignore it.

*

Bobby walked over to the kitchen table and dropped off his pizzas. "Hope you're hungry... this was Warren's idea."

Scott looked at Warren. "This was your idea?"

"Yeah," Warren admitted. "Hank and Logan wanted to join us as well, but we didn't want to invade your home like that so we're taking turns. Hank and Logan will bring dinner tomorrow evening."

Scott sat down at the kitchen table. Smelling the pineapple on the pizzas made him aware how hungry he really was. He hadn't eaten since breakfast. "Thanks, I appreciate it." Scott opened one of the pizza boxes and smiled. "My favorite."

Bobby and Warren sat down as well and both started munching on a slice. "Hey, where's Remy?" Bobby looked about, but didn't see the Cajun anywhere.

Scott stopped eating. Damn, Remy had been here only moments ago! "I really don't know... I'll check upstairs." Scott rose and climbed the stairs. "Leave some pizza for Remy and I!"

"Will try," Bobby mumbled, without commitment. He exchanged a glance with Warren. "I saw him standing in the kitchen when we arrived. He fled upstairs."

"Why?" Warren frowned.

"Come on, Warren... don't play dumb. Remy knows you don't like him." Bobby would never shy back from telling his friend the truth. "He probably figured he wasn't welcome and left."

Warren sighed. He had reached that conclusion himself, but had hoped Bobby would come with a different explanation. "It's true," he admitted. "I never liked him, but he helped Scott when he was catatonic. Maybe we can get along now..."

Bobby smiled brilliantly, pleased with Warren's changed attitude. "You should tell him that."

"Maybe I will."

*

"Remy?" Scott knocked on the door and listened closely. "Remy? Can I come in?" He grew concerned when Remy didn't answer him. He didn't want to invade Remy's privacy, but this wasn't a healthy reaction. "Remy, I'm coming inside." Scott opened the door and found Remy reading on his bed. "What's going on? Why didn't you stay?" He advanced on the Cajun and came to a standstill next to the bed. Scott cocked his head, trying to get a better look at Remy's face. Remy was shutting him out and he wasn't going to accept this.

Grabbing the book from Remy's hands, Scott went down on his heels so he was level with the Cajun. "Remy, tell me what's going on."

Briefly, Remy felt angry. Scott didn't have the right to grab his book like that! Now he no longer had a reason to ignore the other man. Sighing, he gave in. "Wanted to give you some privacy, what's wrong wit' dat?"

Scott studied Remy's facial expression and suddenly realized that he could sense Remy's emotions. Apparently, Remy couldn't control his empathy completely yet. His emotions were leaking now that the Cajun felt insecure. "Is it because of Warren? I know the two of you never got along."

Remy blinked his eyes. His shields were at maximum at yet he felt... sensed Scott. "Don' wanna intrude, mon ami. Dey're here to see you."

"Remy, come on, let's go. They brought pizza and I know you're hungry. I can hear your stomach rumbling." Scott extended his left hand in invitation. "Don't worry about Warren. I've known him for years and although he sometimes appears arrogant, he has a good heart." Scott held his breath as Remy made up his mind. "Come on, Remy, I'm not eating pizza without you," he said, using Remy's tactics against the Cajun.

Remy sighed. "You're playin' dirty, Cyke."

"Why don't you call me Scott? I never liked Cyke."

Remy mumbled an apology. "Sorry, didn' know dat..." Reluctantly, he rose from the bed and followed Scott downstairs. Seeing Warren at the kitchen table, he sat down as far away as possible from the other man.

"Here, they said this was pizza Cajun style," Bobby teased and pushed the still closed pizza box toward Remy.

"Merci," Remy replied shyly and opened the box. His stomach was giving him away, making loud noises. Slowly, he picked up one slice and took a bite out of it. "C'est bon."

Scott returned from the kitchen and put bottled water, soda and red wine on the table so everyone could pick their favorite drink. He settled for the bottled water, still weary to drink alcohol.

Bobby and Warren chose the red wine and Remy went for the bottled water as well. Scott hated the awkward silence that had descended on the room and tried to make small talk. "So Bobby, I guess you're responsible for the snowfall?"

"Ha! I wish I had that kind of influence on the weather! I can only freeze the water in your pipes, treating you to an icy cold shower!" Bobby sipped his beer and watched Warren, hoping his friend would make the first move.

Warren studied Remy in turn and tried to reconcile everything he knew about the Cajun with what had happened these last weeks. Finding out that Remy had worked for Sinister and had gathered the Marauders had infuriated him, but later he'd had time to think everything over. While talking to Bets, who fully condemned Remy for his so called 'crimes', he had realized that he didn't share her opinion. Remy had proven his loyalty to the X-Men over and over again and bringing Scott back from his catatonic state had only confirmed the Cajun's loyalty.

But then he had witnessed how Sinister had coaxed Remy into lowering his shields and his suspicion had returned. It was time to find out what was really going on.

"Remy, can we talk in private?" Warren asked, already pushing back his chair.

Remy almost dropped his bottled water and sought out Warren's eyes. Sensing Warren's conflicting emotions, he grew still. "Oui," he whispered, wishing he could go back to his room instead. But whatever Warren wanted to discuss, the other man wanted to talk about it privately so it was probably something bad.

Scott had noticed Remy's startled reaction and wanted to intervene when Bobby shook his head, indicating he should let Warren and Remy talk. Reluctantly, he watched them leave the kitchen. "Bobby, what's going on?"

Bobby leaned back. "I think Warren's coming around. Don't worry too much."

But Scott's skin was crawling with unease.

*

"Here." Warren handed Remy a parka and slipped into his own. Then he opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. Remy draped the parka over his shoulders and reluctantly followed Warren. It had stopped snowing and the white blanket hurt his eyes. The full moon wasn't helping, adding to the snow's white intensity. "What?"

"I want to ask you something," Warren admitted, leaning against the wall and studying Remy's reactions closely.

Remy wished the earth would open up and swallow him. He really didn't want to do this. Warren hated his guts and this conversation wouldn't be pleasant. "What do you wanna know?"

"After you absorbed Scott's depression you felt depressed yourself. What happened? How did you get rid of that depression?" Warren was curious to find out what Remy was going to tell him. Would the Cajun lie? Mention Sinister?

Remy shrugged his shoulders, never expecting that one. What should he do? Answer the question or go back inside? Why was Warren doing this? What would Scott want him to do? "I don' know exactly what happened," he started, "it almost felt like a dream. Jean-Luc was dere, tellin' me everyt'in' would be bien and... I trusted him... and lowered my shields so de feelings had a way out. Den I fell 'sleep 'gain... I still need to call him... why didn' he stay longer to talk to me?" Remy, lost in thought, didn't notice Warren's expression.

"So your father talked you into letting go?" Warren's instincts told him the Cajun was telling him the truth. Remy didn't know what had happened after Sinister had stepped away from the exam table. The Cajun hadn't seen him morph back. Should he tell Remy what had really happened?

"Oui, Jean-Luc assured me everyt'in' was bien... mais why did he leave 'gain? He could have stayed until I woke 'gain..." Remy shivered. "I don' see him dat often, you know and..."

"There's something else I wanted to ask you," Warren said, deciding not to reveal the truth to Remy just yet. It wasn't his business anyway. "What's your connection with Sinister? Are you still working for him?" The startled expression on Remy's face told Warren enough. Remy was truly shocked that he would even think that!

"Non! I ain' workin' for him! Don' wanna see him ever 'gain! He ruined my life!" Remy pulled the parka closer around his form and lowered his eyes.

"How did you come into contact with him?" Warren reached the conclusion that Remy really didn't know that Sinister had helped him release Scott's depression. Sinister was obviously playing Remy, but why?

"My powers were outta control," Remy admitted, wondering why Warren wanted to know these things. Warren had judged him a long time ago and had never given him a second chance. "He operated on me... I was scared I was gonna blow myself up and take out innocents wit' me..."

"Why didn't you ask the professor for help?"

"Didn' know 'bout de professor. Stormy introduced me to him." Remy cringed, recalling their first meeting. How was it possible that he had lost Storm's friendship? I made too many mistakes.

Warren considered his next move. Remy had convinced him that the Cajun didn't know about Sinister's visit to the lab. Remy obviously didn't know what game Sinister was playing. I should give him the benefit of the doubt...

"Can we go back inside now? I'm cold..." Remy already started for the door, but suddenly Warren's hand came to rest on his shoulder and the gesture stopped him. With his back turned toward Warren, he waited for the other man to speak.

"What about a truce, Remy? We've never been friends and I don't think I'm ready to take that step yet, but we could stop distrusting one another." Bets would probably think he had lost his mind, but he didn't care. He made his own decisions; she didn't make them for him. It was time to take back his life. She had influenced him too much lately. "I don't want us to keep fighting."

Remy's eyes grew big. "A truce?" Slowly, he turned around and Warren removed his hand from his shoulder. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Warren said firmly. "Let's make a new start."

Remy tried to shake off his surprise. Warren was offering him a truce? "For Scott's sake?"

"Partly," Warren admitted. "But I made mistakes in the past as well and I want to correct them. During the trial, I... Eric the Red pushed all the right buttons and I refused to defend you after learning about your involvement with the Marauders. Maybe we can try again?"

Remy nodded his head. "I'd like dat."

Warren extended his hand. "Let's make a new start, okay?"

Entranced, Remy accepted the offered limb and shook it. "Oui, let's try."

*

Later that evening, Bobby and Warren said their good-byes and headed back to the mansion. Scott turned to look at Remy and felt content, seeing a peaceful expression in the alien eyes. After Warren and Remy had joined them again, the Cajun had been more relaxed. Learning about Warren's peace offering made him smile. But then that smile froze as he realized it was time to turn in for the night.

Scott walked over to Remy and helped him clean up the mess they had made during dinner. "Remy? About tonight..."

Remy didn't look up, but continued to stare at the pizza boxes. "Oui?"

"I'm going upstairs now..." He didn't know how to phrase the rest. "You're welcome to join me," he said eventually. To his surprise, Remy blushed fiercely.

"Mebbe," Remy whispered.

Scott nodded once and then climbed the stairs. In his room, he removed his clothes and put on sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt. After slipping between the covers, he stared at the door, hoping Remy would join him. Although he felt awkward about sleeping in the same bed with Remy, he realized it was the only solution to their problem.

Remy opened the door and stepped inside. He had already changed his clothes and now shuffled his feet, hesitant to approach the bed. Dis is wrong, should be in my own room, my own bed, not here!

Scott sensed Remy's unease as it slithered into his mind. Determinedly, he pushed back the covers, inviting Remy in.

Slowly, Remy lay down at a distance from Scott, making sure they weren't touching. "Night, Cy... Scott."

"Good night, Remy." He pulled the covers back into place and closed his eyes. Listening to Remy's breathing, he quickly fell asleep.

Remy however, stayed awake a little longer. He wasn't really surprised when the nightmares started again and after reaching out and reassuring Scott, the bad dreams faded away. Scott reached for him and pulled him close. Remy was lying on his left side, facing away from Scott and feeling the other man spooned up behind him made him tremble. Fighting back his rising panic, he concentrated on the relaxation techniques Mattie taught him years ago. Several minutes later, he managed to fall asleep as well.

*

The next morning, Scott opened his eyes and snuggled up to the warm body in front of him. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't holding Jean, but Remy. But I slept extremely well last night... and he wasn't ready to face the nightmares again. Hopefully Remy would be willing to keep him company at night until he was strong enough to face his nightmares alone

One month later.

They had settled into a comfortable routine. Living at the boathouse had given them a chance to get to know each other and they had both been surprised to find they got along well. The nightmares were growing less frequent, and Scott was getting ready to move back to the mansion. Remy wasn't sure yet if he was ready to return to the mansion and had decided to stay at the boathouse a little longer.

Officially, he was back on the team, but he preferred to limit the contact to a minimum. He took part in missions again, but always felt the distrust in Storm, Betsy and Rogue's minds. Luckily, Scott always remained close and so far, there hadn't been any confrontations between the team members.

Now he was watching Scott pack and he was starting to feel cold and empty inside. He had become more dependent on Scott than he wanted to admit. The other man's presence had kept him from going insane, but now Scott was moving back to the mansion.

"Remy, are you sure you don't want to return to the mansion?" Scott was worried. They hadn't slept apart for a month now and there was no way of knowing how bad the nightmares would be now that he would be sleeping on his own again.

"I don' wanna go back jus' yet," Remy explained, as he leaned against the wall. "Storm hasn' forgiven me and I can' stand bein' close to Rogue right now..."

Scott nodded his head. Remy had told him how cold Rogue's thoughts were and he couldn't blame the Cajun for staying clear of her. But Storm was a problem he intended to deal with. She was currently the leader of the X-Men and a good team leader made sure all team members felt comfortable working with the others. Storm however, ignored Remy when he took part in a mission and only acknowledged his presence when absolutely necessary. He wasn't ready yet to lead the X-Men again, but he still felt the responsibility that went with the job. "Will you be okay here, alone?"

"Oui. Don' worry 'bout me, Scott." Remy had a hard time pretending that Scott’s moving out didn't faze him. In reality, he wanted Scott to remain close. He had grown used to Scott's presence and didn't want to be alone again. Sleeping alone would be particularly hard, as he had loved feeling Scott's arms around him at night. Mais it's time to let go. Scott's dealin' wit' Jean's death'. He doesn' need me any longer.

Scott finished packing and closed his duffel bag. Feeling shy, he didn't know what to say. He had gotten used to eating dinner with Remy, talking to him while watching TV and snuggling up to him at night. Now he was on his own again. "Let me know if you need to talk? I might be moving back to the mansion, but I'm not moving out of your life."

"Merci, Scott, mais I can manage," Remy said with a determination that was just a front. "You'd betta leave now. Dey're expectin’ you for dinner."

Scott walked toward Remy and he surprised both of them by giving the Cajun a hug. "I wish you'd move back to the mansion as well."

"Mebbe in a few weeks," Remy said, evasively. He was relieved when Scott released him. Sometimes the illusion he had built became too real. These last few weeks he had indulged himself, fantasizing that Scott had become his best friend and that maybe they could become more than friends. But he had been lying to himself.

He didn't follow Scott outside as the other man left. Shakily, he collapsed on the couch and petted a pillow. I'm 'lone 'gain... ain' dat de story of my life? Dey always leave me... Fighting his tears, he wondered if God would ever feel he had been punished enough for his past mistakes or if he would continue to pay for the rest of his life. Feeling miserable and lonely, he stared at the wall, wondering how he was going to cope all alone.

To Be Continued in Insanity