Here's the start of my sequel to "It Started In A Hospital..." You should probably read that one FIRST before reading this one :D Otherwise, things won't make sense, lol. This prologue here is a catch up of the years between ISIAH and the next chapter in this story, so keep in mind that these clips span a couple years.

Prologue:

A Progression of Memories

It should've been a good day today. Spencer Reid should've been happy. Today, he'd graduated from the Academy. Today, he'd bypassed quite a few rules, pissed off a few other cadets, and had not only graduated at a younger age than was typically allowed, but he also graduated straight into the BAU, a place that some of them only dreamed of going to. Not just that, but he was taken onto Jason Gideon's team, a team that was considered the best of the best. He should be happy to be here, right? He should be on cloud nine! Instead, he found himself standing around at a party in his honor, wishing with all his heart that he was at home.

Not that home was any great place to be. It was too cold, too small, too…empty. There was nothing waiting there for him. Even after all these months, he still couldn't get used to going home to an empty place.

No! He wasn't going to sit here and mope. He was here to start a new chapter in his life. For months he'd wallowed in his pain in that little hotel room, unable to bring himself to go back to the loft he'd once called home. It was time to move on. Time to move forward. He was fine.

Even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie. He wasn't fine. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be fine again. But he was damn well going to fake it. These people would never see just how broken he was on the inside.

Straightening his spine and squaring his shoulder, Spencer pasted on a smile and moved to join the crowd once more, his mask firmly in place.

It was so damn cold. That was the main thought in Remy's mind at the moment. Everything was just so damn cold. Times like this, he missed the muggy heat of a Louisiana spring, or the dryer heat of a California spring. Two of his most favorite places; one he wasn't allowed to go back to and one he couldn't bring himself to go back to. Instead he sat here in this windowsill, staring out at the depressingly cool weather of a New York spring. This was the time of year the sun was supposed to come out and things were supposed to get warm! Instead, the clouds above hinted at rain later on in the day, and the chill to the air had him bundling a little tighter inside his coat.

Light footsteps warned him of someone coming up behind him. Remy didn't bother turning; he knew who it was. There was no surprise when a pair of arms slipped around his shoulders a moment later. They slid around and clasped loosely in front of him. He felt the soft body press against the back of him and then the familiar weight of her chin on his shoulder. "You look sadder than our weather, my brother." Ororo Munroe said softly.

Remy sighed out a breath and tried to push his melancholy away. He turned his head just enough to press his cheek against hers. "Aint dat, petit." He reached a hand up to lightly squeeze her arm in reassurance. "Remy just don't like de cold, y' know dat." No need to worry her. There was no point in dumping his pain on her shoulders. No matter how grown up she looked now, he couldn't help but see the young girl she'd been when he first met her. To him, she would always be that girl, his petit Stormy.

She gave him a light squeeze. "I wish I knew how to make you smile, Remy. The rain always brings such sadness to your eyes."

He wasn't surprised. It would probably surprise her to know that, years ago, he had actually come to love the rain. Memories flashed in his mind and he closed his eyes against the ache of them. They were never far from him. Every time he saw the rain, he remembered. He remembered walking hand and hand with Spencer when a rainstorm struck seemingly out of nowhere. They'd missed the signs, too caught up in one another to pay any attention. He remembered how Spencer had looked with his hair plastered to his head and his clothes clinging to every inch of him. He remembered the joy and laughter on that beautiful face as Spencer had tipped his head back and let the water wash over him. He remembered how sweet it had felt to catch that lean body up against his and spin him through an impromptu dance right there in the middle of a parking lot, with people watching on and clapping for them. He remembered a night where they'd stretched out on the roof of the building to watch the stars and had ended up waking up to rain in the middle of the night. He remembered how Spencer had looked over top of him, all that pale skin wet and glistening in the night, his head thrown back in passion while his hips rolled in that ancient dance.

Those memories washed through Remy now

Paperwork was one of the most dull things in the world, in the mind of Derek Morgan. He finished putting his signature on yet another piece of paper and happily closed the folder, stuffing it in his outbox. Done with that one for now, he sat back in his chair and stretched, eyes scanning the room. They lit up a little when saw Penelope bouncing her way over to him. That girl was a bright spot in a boring day and he was beyond thankful for the interruption she'd provide. "Hey there, baby girl. What's got you looking so chipper?"

Penelope's grin grew a little wider. She stopped by his desk, perching on the edge of it, and she gestured with her head over towards where the coffee pot was. Derek dutifully looked over there. His lips curved a little when he saw their resident genius pouring himself what had to be his fourth cup of coffee this morning. Then he noticed the guy right by him. It only took a second for Derek to read the body language and to make a guess at what was going on. Ah. No wonder Penelope looked so giddy. She couldn't resist any kind of matchmaking efforts. Seeing someone very obviously hitting on Spencer—and wasn't it hilarious that this guy, a guy, chose to actually hit on another guy in the middle of the Bureau instead of safely outside of work—would be like Christmas for her. Her face was practically shining when she grinned down at him. "Look at that! Maybe our Dr. Reid is finally gonna go out on a date. That poor boy needs some kind of life outside of work."

"He won't." Derek said absently. He watched as Spencer smiled politely at whatever the guy was saying. But even from here, he could easily see the distance Spencer was keeping between him and the other guy, and the clear signals his body was displaying to show he wasn't interested.

Penelope turned curiously towards him. "What do you mean, he won't?"

Watching for a moment longer, Derek finally turned his attention back towards Penelope. He saw her confusion and curiosity clearly on her face. There was no way she was going to just let this go. If he didn't answer her, she'd probably go after Spencer later. Teasing him about seeing the guy flirt with him, maybe even try and find a way to set him up. Derek knew the teasing would embarrass the hell out of his friends. While Spencer had been shockingly open about his sexuality—He had no qualms about declaring himself 'pansexual', telling people "I'm attracted to the person inside. What's on the outside, be it male or female, is only wrapping."—he was extremely shy and private about his personal life.

Derek reached out and put his hand on Penelope's, squeezing lightly. "Leave him be, baby girl. Reid could get a date easily enough if he wanted to. He just doesn't want to. I don't know why and I'm not going to bug him about it. But I've heard him tell plenty of people that he's just not interested in dating. At all."

"But…but what about Lila?"

Ah, Lila. Derek remembered that case, just as he remembered how flustered Spencer had been afterwards. How utterly uncomfortable the whole thing had made him. "I didn't say he's not attracted to people. He's just not interested in doing anything about it." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Spencer coming over and he lowered his voice, making it just slightly stern. "Leave him alone, Garcia. Trust me on this one. Just leave him alone about it."

When Spencer sat down at his desk a moment later, his cheeks still carried a hint of a blush to them from whatever the man had said. But Derek knew without even having to ask that Spencer had turned the guy down. Just the same as he'd done with any person that Derek had ever seen show interest in him since the day he joined the Bureau.

Looking up, Spencer caught Derek watching him and he smiled shyly, a hint of embarrassment in his expression. There was no doubt he knew Derek had seen the scene by the coffee. He looked down and then back up, lips quirking a little, and he rolled his eyes as a little. Derek smiled back at him and shrugged his shoulder in agreement.

It didn't take a genius to realize that there had to be something that had happened in Spencer's past, something that had turned him away from dating. The possibilities were endless and each one made him want to take the kid, a kid who had become like his baby brother, and hug him and tell him it was going to be okay. But, he didn't. Spencer wouldn't appreciate it and it wouldn't do any good. Whatever it was that had hurt him, it was deep. Sometimes you could catch glimpses of it in his eyes; eyes that were far too old for one so young. But Spencer kept whatever it was locked down tight inside of him where no one could touch it.

So Derek did the only things that he could. He built a strong friendship with the awkward young genius, a friendship that bordered on brotherhood, and he made sure that Spencer knew no matter what he always had a friend on his side. That there was always going to be someone there for him.

Despite how long he'd been with them, no one at the Mansion could honestly say that they truly knew what Remy was capable of. The man put up a good front, but something told Scott that that's just what it was—a front. He watched Remy often, trying to understand him. Trying to piece together the puzzle he presented. There were many faces of Remy LeBeau and Scott often wondered if any of them were the real one. Or were they all illusion, created for the person he was speaking to or the moment he was in? As team leader, Scott had to try to understand this man. To keep his team safe, and to help the teammate he often felt was screaming, even if no one else seemed to hear it.

He watched silently, observing from a distance. Cataloging all the different parts of the Cajun. After years, he was still counting. There was Remy, Ororo's brother. The cheeky thief who had taken a young Storm under his wing, had cared for and protected her even as they stole together, and who had brought her here to her family and stayed with her. There was Remy, the friend. A kind side that he showed to those that got close to him. One that listened to people's problems and offered whatever advice he could. There was Gambit, the professional thief. One who took his work very, very seriously. Or, Gambit, one of the X-Men. A cocky, arrogant, flirtatious little shit who liked to poke and tease and basically try to get on everyone's last nerve. The one who would piss you off one moment and fight by your side the next, throwing those dangerous cards of his and laughing as his enemies tried fruitlessly to get a blow in of their own. There was Remy, the playboy. The one who disappeared to bars and came home the next morning, smelling like a alcohol and stale perfume.

There were countless more. Scott had seen them, cataloged them in his mind, and still he felt he was no closer to really finding out who this man was.

Today, he was watching as another side of Remy showed, one that didn't often come out to play. The childlike side of him. This Remy was currently racing around the yard with Jubilee, Bobby, Kitty, and Rogue, each one of them armed with a water gun. From his spot safely stationed by the barbeque, Scott was free to watch them. This was one of his favorite things to see. All the young ones here, out playing together, having fun. Having a life outside of the fight, the Dream. Just getting the chance to be regular kids, even if some of those kids were in their twenties. They were still kids at heart.

He smothered a laugh as Jubilee, Rogue and Bobby ambushed Kitty and Remy. The two were ambushed and summarily drenched. Kitty let out a shocked squeal that echoed through the air while Remy just threw his head back and laughed. More shrieks filled the air as the Cajun leapt out and started returning fire, heedless of the water that tried to spray his face.

It was a pity to have to break it up. But Scott pulled the last burger off the grill for Jean to take to the table, and Logan's deep voice echoed out through the air with a call of "Grub's on!" Ah, such a way with words, that one. Scott rolled his eyes safely behind his shades and made his way to the picnic tables that were spread out. The soaked set joined them a moment later, dripping all over everyone and everything and laughing happily. Soaked through, Bobby and Remy both gave in to the heat of the day and stripped their shirts off, tossing them over the low wall nearby so they could dry.

Scott's eyebrows went up with surprise when he saw the skin underneath Remy's shirt. He realized this was the first time he'd ever seen the man go fully shirtless around them. Odd, that. He was either bundled up at home, or in his battle armor when they were out, or dressed up for a date. He never lounged around in just his pants. Too cold, he liked to say. Weather here was too cold for the Louisiana native. But now he was stripped down just to his soaking wet jeans and everyone got a clear view of what was underneath. Not the body, per se, though Scott could see what held the appeal for the girls that went after him. Remy was well toned and muscular while still being somewhat lean. No, it was the tattoos that caught his attention. His and everyone else's.

Not surprising that Jubilee was the one to speak up. "Wow, Remy. I didn't know ya had any ink."

"Oh, oui. Got de first when Remy was just a young pup." He told her while he took his seat. Turning a little, he showed her the tribal band wrapped around his left bicep and then the one wrapped around his right. "Was about fifteen or so when Remy got dese."

"Fifteen?" Jubilee's eyebrows went up and she turned towards Logan, who looked at her and shook his head, growling out "Don't even think about it."

Laughter echoed around the tables.

When the laughter died down, Remy pointed to his next tattoo, this one on the inside of his right arm. This one was of a cross with what looked like rosary beads wrapped around it. "Got dis one next, when Remy was somewhere round eighteen, give or take."

"You don't know how old you were?" Bobby asked.

Shrugging one shoulder like it was nothing, Remy just casually said "Don't really know how old Remy is, mon ami. Aint exactly got no birth certificate t' look at." He dropped that little bombshell like it was nothing and gloss over the shocked faces around him. Ignoring them, he leaned back a little and pulled down the top of his jeans just the slightest bit. There, on his left hip, was another tattoo. This one was of four playing cards, with two dice in front of them. The four cards were all kings and the one at the front was the King of Hearts, only instead of a K in each corner, there was an R in the bottom corner and an S in the top corner. "Got dat one a few years back, right b'fore Remy came here. Oh! Almost f'got one." He turned completely now and showed them his back.

This time the surprise was a little more widespread. "Oh, wow." Kitty breathed out. "Those are beautiful."

On Remy's back was the most intricately done pair of wings. The tops started just below his shoulders and they ran down the full length of his back, stopping at points that looked like they ended just below the line of his jeans. The wings almost looked like angel wings, yet they weren't at the same time. They were done slightly, sharper. Thinner, a bit. And they weren't white, but done in red and black to match his eyes. They were like a devil version of the angel wings.

Remy stayed twisted long enough for everyone to see and then he fluidly turned himself back around. "Got dose few years b'fore de cards."

While Scott logged away this new information, adding it to the mental file he had on the Cajun, the rest of the table was asking him about when he got them done, if it had hurt, how long it had taken. But eventually, Rogue spoke up asking the question no one else had thought to ask. "The one of the cards, how come that's got an S and R instead of the K for King?"

Only because he'd watched him for so long and had studied his expressions to try and understand him was Scott able to see the tension that suddenly filled Remy. He didn't go hard or actually physically tense up, like most would. His expression cooled just ever so slightly and his body loosened, like he was preparing to run if he had to. With his sunglasses on, it was impossible to see his eyes and those were the best way to gauge him. Scott watched with interest as Remy shrugged one shoulder and took a drink off his beer. "No important reason, cher. Just some letters dat aint special to no one but Remy." And before she could press her point any further, Remy launched right into a tale about the artist who had done the tattoo. Soon enough, he had the whole table laughing.

Scott watched as this mask slid into place, as Remy became the playful, spunky, feisty Remy that most people around here expected. No, no one around here really, truly knew this man. There was something under all this, something that very few people even glimpsed. The Cajun showed them many faces, but none of them were who he really was inside. Watching the man talk and laugh, Scott wondered who or what had hurt him so badly that he'd locked it all away so deep down inside. And he wondered if there would come a day when the real Remy got buried so deep, he'd simply fade away, leaving only the shell of a man he'd once been, his masks the only thing left behind.

It was the end to a long day. But, though Spencer was tired, more tired than he'd been in a long time, he was also…better. The weight that had been on his shoulder, on his soul, was lighter than before. Not gone, no. But lighter. When he and Jason arrived back at the hotel after finishing watching Ethan's performance, for once Spencer didn't feel like simply going and hiding. He didn't feel like escaping from his friends. For so long now, that had been all he wanted. To be around them and yet to be as far from them as possible.

Wasn't it ironic that it was New Orleans of all places that Spencer finally seemed to reach that turning point in his life? Ever since the events in Georgia, ever since he'd been kidnapped, drugged, had died, ever since then his life had become off course. Oh, he knew why. He knew it was his own fault. Not the kidnapping, no. Just what he had done afterwards. He hadn't coped. He hadn't dealt with it. Instead, he'd done the stupidest thing in the world. He'd lost himself in the very drug that Tobias had injected in to him. He'd let the blessed emptiness of the Dilaudid work to take away the pain in his life. And he had learned the hard way that the emptiness never lasts and it's not worth the cost. It's not worth the pain when the emptiness fades and it's not worth the pain he was causing his friends. All it had taken was this case here in New Orleans and a visit with an old friend to help set him back on track. Talking with Ethan had helped him. Talking with Jason later on had helped even more. Spencer knew he wasn't perfect. He wasn't miraculously 'healed'. He was, however, finally ready to start healing.

Due to the time and some weather, Jason told him they would be leaving first thing in the morning. They had one more night left here. He planned to take advantage of this down time.

Whatever plans he'd built went right out the window when they arrived at the hotel. No sooner had he climbed out of the SUV than someone was walking straight towards him. Spencer paused, slightly curious. He took a second to look the man over and try to see if he could place him. Tall, handsome, somewhere in his forties, Spencer estimated. He was impeccably dressed in clothes that spoke of taste and money both and he moved with a natural sort of grace that Spencer had seen in very few people. There was something about him that was vaguely familiar. Had he seen him at the station, maybe?

The man smiled as he got close. "Dr. Reid?" The words were a question, yet something told Spencer the man already knew the answer. Still, he smiled and nodded. "That's me. Can I help you?" he asked politely. He felt Jason step up beside him, a reassuring sort of presence by his side.

Stopping just in front of him, the man gave him a warm and charming smile. He folded one arm in front of him and one behind him and gave a short bow. "I was hoping I'd catch y' b'fore y' and y'r team left." Straightening back up, the man's bright eyes fixed on him and his expression warmed even more. Then he said the last thing that Spencer had expected and that he definitely wasn't prepared for. "My name is Jean Luc LeBeau. It's a pleasure t' finally meet y', Dr. Reid."

Everything in Spencer froze for one split second. His heart felt like it skipped a beat. A soft little "oh" slid past his lips. He knew his eyes were wide, knew his shock was written right out there on his face. It seemed that all he could do was stand there and stare. Now he knew why the man looked so familiar. Memory came back to him of a picture that Remy had of him and an older gentleman. This gentleman. His father. This was Remy's father. The man who had taken him in off the streets, who had given him a home and a family, who had raised him.

Jean Luc nodded his head and gave Spencer a look of understanding and compassion. "I understand dis is all unexpected. I was hoping dat y' might like t' take a walk wit' me. Dere's a café down de road dat makes an excellent coffee."

"Of course." What else could he say? Still slightly in shock, Spencer excused himself to Jason. Then he found himself walking down the street side by side with his ex-lover's father. What the hell was going on here? Neither man said a word as they walked quietly side by side. Jean Luc led him to the little café where they were whisked away to a table in the back that afforded them some privacy. Both ordered coffee. When the man also ordered two slices of pie, Spencer tried to decline. It earned him a sharp stare so reminiscent of Remy that it struck Spencer silent. "Y' hush now, boy." Jean Luc scolded him firmly. "Y'r too skinny as it is. Be lucky I'm not after ordering y' a meal b'fore y'r pie. Y'll eat dis, y' hear?"

"Yes, sir."

The response came out automatically and earned him a smile and a low laugh. Jean Luc shook his head in amusement. "None of dis 'sir' stuff. I get enough of dat from others in m' life. De last place I need it is from m' family, too."

Family? That word caught Spencer off guard. It had him sitting back in his seat and staring quietly the while the waitress poured their coffee and delivered their pie. He debated a thousand different responses and countless questions. So many of them that he could barely keep them straight. The peace he'd found earlier in the evening was long gone by now. This meeting had ripped straight through it. Through the peace, through the calm, through every single shield he'd put up inside to protect that broken part of him that had never healed. There was a hint of that broken boy in his eyes when he looked across the table. All his careful questions and responses vanished. In its place was a broken, fragile honesty and the echo of a pain that had never fully left him. "What do you want from me? We aren't family, sir. I haven't spoken with your son in four years now."

The compassion that he'd glimpsed in Jean Luc's eyes earlier was back now, stronger than before. He kept quiet as their waitress returned, delivering their coffee and pie. Only when they were served and she was once more gone did he finally speak. "Of course we're family, Spencer Reid. Maybe my stubborn son is stupidly keeping de two of y' apart fo' some noble reason or another. Dat doesn't take away from de fact dat y' two love one another. I know m' son's heart and I know who holds it."

Oh, God. Spencer's heart throbbed painfully in his chest. To cover the tremble in his hands, he curled them around his mug, letting the heat seep into child fingers. "I may hold it, but it does me no good. He's made his choice." No matter how much they hurt for it, Remy had made that choice. He'd made it four years ago when he'd walked away. And he made it every single day since then that he stayed away.

"Y' know he's not fully gone."

Jean Luc's casual words had Spencer nodding. Of course he knew. "He watches me." Spencer dropped his eyes, staring at the dark liquid in his cup. "I know he does. He has since I first joined the Bureau. Sometimes I come home from a case and I can tell he's been in my apartment." Not recently, though. Not for months now. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? It meant that Remy couldn't possibly know about what he'd been doing to himself since Georgia. Because if Remy knew about the drugs, he wouldn't have stayed quiet. He also wouldn't have left them in the apartment. At the least, his stash would've vanished. It wasn't like he worked to hide it. The supplies were always right out there in the open in his room. You wanted him to see his mind whispered. Spencer shoved that thought aside.

A hint of humor touched Jean Luc's lips. "He's a stubborn connard."

That startled a laugh out of Spencer. "Yes. Yes, he is."

"It's our cross t' bear fo' loving one like him. But, worth de price in de end, non?"

"Yes." No matter the pain, it was worth it. He would never regret loving Remy.

Smiling, Jean Luc picked up his fork, pointing it at Spencer. "Eat." He commanded. He watched and waited until Spencer put that first bite into his mouth. When he did, the man smiled at him like some proud father. "Dat's better. Now, enough of de sad stuff. Dere aint no point in dredging it up and making y' hurt. I didn't bring y' here to hurt y'. I brought y' here so I could get de chance to know m' son's better half." And just like that, their conversation turned lighter. Jean Luc asked him question after question about his life and his work. Spencer found himself drawn out little by little until he found himself relaxing without even realizing it. The only other person that had been this interested in him when he spoke was Remy. Spencer absorbed every second of the conversation with a bitter sweet sensation. All of this was so familiar yet different. That warm Cajun accent was familiar, but whereas Remy spoke in broken English with horrible grammar and dirty innuendos thrown in, Jean Luc had a slightly proper way of speaking kind of like Spencer did. He focused on Spencer and listened to his answers, much like Remy had, but the eyes fixed on him weren't the red and black orbs he longed to see.

Still, Spencer loved their conversation and he found himself losing track of time. He didn't even realize that hours had gone past. He and Jean Luc had started exchanging stories, not just about one another but about Remy as well. Despite the ache it put in his heart, it also felt good to be able to talk so openly about his love. No one at the Bureau knew about Remy. For four years, Spencer had been alone, unable to talk about this. Unable to bring himself to share something so precious and so painful. But he didn't have to hide it here with Jean Luc. He could open up and share the memories he cherished. In return, Jean Luc shared his own memories and Spencer got a chance to get to know a whole new part of Remy this way.

Eventually the two men left the café. Their walk back to the hotel was just as quiet as it had been earlier. They were content simply to be side by side. Then the two were back at the hotel, standing outside Spencer's room, and they knew it was time to say goodbye. Spencer found himself reluctant to do so. He didn't want to give up this warm feeling he'd found. Jean Luc wasn't Remy, but he was a connection to him, and Spencer was loathe to let that go.

Jean Luc surprised him by echoing his thoughts. "I don't want t' leave y' here, petit. It's like leaving m' boy all over again."

"I know what you mean." Spencer murmured.

A smile touched the older man's lips. His expression gentled as he watched Spencer. "Right now, Remy can't be dere fo' y'. It's outta his own stubbornness and fear, mais either day, he can't. Let me be de one to be dere fo' y'." Reaching out, Jean Luc tucked a bit of Spencer's hair behind his ear. He dropped his hand to rest on Spencer's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "He can't be dere fo' y' and I can't be dere fo' him. Let me be dere fo' y', Spencer." He smiled and it warmed his face, straight up to his eyes. "I always wanted another son."

Jesus. Spencer bit the inside of his lip to try and use the pain as a way to keep himself under control. Tears burned hot in the back of his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was let them fall. Not trusting his voice, he gave a jerky sort of nod. Seeing it had Jean Luc's smile growing. Then, to Spencer's surprise, the man used the hand on his shoulder and pulled Spencer in close, wrapping him up in a tight hug. "Welcome to de family, mon fils." He murmured in Spencer's ear.

When they pulled apart, Spencer had to turn his head to discreetly wipe at the few tears that had slipped free. Jean Luc didn't call him on it, didn't comment at all. He just gave Spencer's shoulder one last squeeze before letting go of him. When he spoke, his voice was back to normal, with the same command he'd showed earlier when ordering Spencer to eat. "Y' go on and get in dere and get some sleep, petit. Y' got de tired look to y'r face."

"Yes, sir." Spencer said impishly. It got him the smile and laugh he was aiming for.

Before Spencer could walk off, Jean Luc handed him a business card. "Here, take dis. It's got m' numbers on it, both m' day phone and m' private number. Y' call me if y' need me fo' anyt'ing. Anyt'ing, petit." He said that firmly and waited for Spencer's nod before continuing. "An y' call at least once a month, just to check in. Or y'r new Papa's gon' fly up to y' and kick y'r ass. D'accord?"

Laughter bubbled up from Spencer. "Okay."

Something was wrong with the Cajun.

What it was, Logan wasn't sure. But he was bound and determined to find out what it was. Sure, he and Rogue were on the outs right now, but that was par for the course. Those two fought all the time. They were off more than they were on and Remy never seemed to care all that much. Which, in Logan's book, said quite a lot about their relationship. He had his doubts about their reasons behind being together. There was just something wrong about it. Remy was a charmer, there was no doubt there. With little effort he could have the pick of pretty much anyone he wanted. But he came here and he picked the one person who can't touch, the one he can't have. The one that's 'safe'.

The kid had been surlier than normal lately, his tongue a little sharper, and he hadn't gone into town to burn none of it off for at least a week. In fact, he'd taken to drinking alone, either up on the roof or down on the dock. He seemed to be avoiding people as much as possible. Most of the house attributed it to his fight with Rogue and they seemed content to let it go.

None of them could smell what Logan could smell, though. Depression clung to the kid's scent all the time now. It was always there, in some form or another, and it had been for as long as he'd been here. Just, not like this.

So Logan did the only thing he could do. He watched, he waited, and when opportunity presented itself, he set out to try and fix whatever the hell was wrong with his annoying friend.

His opportunity came when Remy was yet again down at the dock by himself one evening. Before Logan even got close, he could smell the alcohol. Shit, the kid was either piss ass drunk, or well on his way. That could be either a good thing or a bad thing. The alcohol he smelled was bourbon and that tended to either make the kid easy to talk to, or it knocked him out. Just depended on how far into the bottle you caught him.

Remy didn't acknowledge Logan's presence at first, though he had to know that the man was there. He just sat there, long legs stretched out in front of him, staring out over the water. Well, two could play at this game. Logan shifted his stance and got comfortable. He could stand here all night if that was what it took.

It didn't take all night. It didn't even take a few minutes. Without turning around, Remy spoke to him, not even breaking his gaze on the water. "Remy aint de best company t'night, Wolvie."

"Aint never bothered me none." Logan said simply. It was the truth. They had a good friendship, he and Remy. There were plenty of times where they'd hung out together without saying a word. Both could appreciate the need for quiet sometimes.

Remy made a low humming noise that could've been agreement or it could've meant anything else. Either way, Logan didn't say anything. He just went back to waiting. Tonight wasn't a night for him to talk. It was a night for him to listen, and Logan was a hell of a good listener, as his friends all discovered when they got close enough to him. Finding the right words was something he struggled with. He was more action than words, which generally fed the impression that he was all brawn and no brains. But in the right circumstances, with the right people, Logan would put out the effort to find those words, no matter how difficult it was. Right now, he didn't worry about it. He just waited, letting Remy know in his own quiet way that he was here to listen.

His patience was rewarded with far more honesty than he'd expected. With a soft sigh, Remy drew his knees up towards his chest. "Y' ever been in love, Wolvie?" He asked quietly. "I don't mean de little loves. I mean dat kind of love dat reaches right down in y' and grips y'r heart an soul? Y' take one look at de person and it just hits y' like a bolt of lightning and y' know, y' just know, dis is de person y'r gonna love fo' de rest of y'r life?"

Logan thought for sure the thief was talking about Rogue and fought the urge to growl. He couldn't stand watching their relationship. He hated to see what she did to the Cajun over and over and how Remy just kept coming back for more. He pushed back his temper so the empath wouldn't feel it, using his old training to keep that meditative state inside. "Yeah." He finally answered. "Yeah, I do."

A wistful look crossed Remy's face. He folded his arms and rested them on top his knees before dropping his chin down to rest on his arms. For a short beat, he was quiet. Then his voice came, whisper soft in the night air. "Once y've felt dat, dere's nothing else in life dat can ever compare to it. It changes y', deep down inside, and y'r never de same again. I had dat once." The word 'once' caught Logan's attention and had him looking down sharply at the boy. Remy didn't even look up. That smell of depression grew a little stronger. "I had it, and I let it go. I let dat love go, knowing it was better fo' us both. Knowing it kept him safe. With me, he would've always been in danger. M' life wasn't safe back den. Hell, it aint any safer now. But dey hurt him to get to me and dey would've kept hurtin' him. What else could I do? I had to walk away to make him safe."

Logan stared silently at a man who suddenly seemed so much different. This new information processed in Logan's mind and he found himself understanding a few things about his friend that he never had before. A few more pieces to the puzzle that was Remy LeBeau slid into place.

A painful sounding laugh slipped from Remy. "It would've been our anniversary today. If I hadn't left, it would've been ten years fo' us today. It's been five years since I walked outta dat hospital room an every day, I wish I could go back and never leave." The last words ended on a whisper so soft Logan almost didn't hear it.

What could he say to his friend right now? This was more than Remy had ever confided in him before. This wasn't some mask that Remy had on, some story he was telling. This was true, honest Remy, open in a way he never was around here. Maybe it was the alcohol talking. Logan could definitely smell it on him. Or maybe it was just that today was too much. The pain was just too much. He stared out over the water and wished he was better with words. "Have you ever thought of going back? Trying to find him?"

"Oh, oui. T'ink about it every day. What right do I got, though? He was hurt, cher. He was hurt bad, jus' fo' being wit' me. M' enemies aint gotten any less since den. How can I ask him t' live dat kind of life wit' me?"

Logan kept staring ahead, not entirely comfortable but unable to walk away from this. "I been around a long time." He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. "If I learned one thing, it's that ya gotta do what makes ya happy. Ya gotta take any happiness you can find. Cause ya never know when it's all gonna be taken away again. Maybe you'll only love him for a day. Who knows? It's a day more than ya have right now, though, aint it?" Shrugging one shoulder, he brought his gaze down, surprised to see that Remy was staring up at him with those wide eyes. Seeing the pain there, Logan sighed. "Ya don't gotta give up a life for this, Gumbo. What's the point of fighting for a dream if it makes us all miserable? That happily-ever-after you're talkin about, aint that what we're fighting for? We should consider it a win if ya get it."

With those last, sage words, Logan reached out and pet a hand over the kid's hair. Then he turned and headed up towards the mansion, leaving Remy there to think on what he'd said.

Okay, whew, I got it up! That took me all flipping day to write, would you believe it? All stinking day. Add in a nice head cold that's settling in and, well, I assure you wonderful people, it was definitely not a pretty picture, oh no. I am a hot mess right now. Definitely better that I stay in and write and not brave the big, nasty world right now.

So, you all seemed interested in that short "It Started In A Hospital..." SO I figured I'd go ahead and start posting the rest of the story as it comes to me. Now, I'm not promising fast updates with this one. That last story spoiled y'all! I can't update that quickly with this one cause I'm still outlining it. But I will try to keep my updates at no further than a week apart, max. I'm going to aim for a few days apart but I can't make promises :) Let's just see how it flows.

Anyways, don't forget to R&R and let me know what you think of this! As always, it's a pleasure, lovelies. I hope you liked this!