A/N: Okay! Okay! I'm HORRIBLE! I know it! I just started another story but this one just... won't... leave... me... alone! I've got my storyline all ready to go for "Until The Day We Die" but my muse won't lemme continue that one until I got this one out! So please don't hurt me :)
Disclaimer... Don't own them at all!
-- All Roads Point To Home--
How long has it been now homme? Remy thought to himself as he stood in front of the mansions gates. Has ta be at leas' twenty years, back when you were a young pup.
Grinning slightly to himself Remy ran his fingers absentmindedly over the three distinct scars that marred his cheek, their grooves slightly lessened by the accompaniment of a days worth of stubble that had grown. The shame still burnt inside him like a knife as he lowered his head and moved back to his waiting Harley.
Now's not de time…its not time to face de past again, his thoughts reminded him as he mounted his bike and drove back to the hotel he was staying in just a few blocks away.
Back in his hotel room, Remy poured himself a drink from the already half empty bottle and settled into one of the provided hotel chairs. Leaning on his knees Remy looked back on the past years that had followed his leaving the school and how it had all brought him back to where he never thought he'd be.
… flashback…
Remy hadn't had much of a head start after Jubilee's funeral, making it only as far as North Carolina when Logan caught up to him. Remy was no fool and that Logan's threat of revenge would not be an empty one, but having a head start wouldn't have been a bad plan either. Remy had been in a seedy bar in a lesser neighborhood that evening drowning his sorrows with 2.25 liquor, the quality only as good as its price, but it did its job as his pain was numbed just enough for him to move on again. Stumbling from the bar he tucked the photograph of him and Jubilee back into its home in his breast pocket of his coat, his senses picked up on Logan just as he was knocked off balance into a pile of trash.
"Hey homme long time no see," Remy drawled cockily at Logan's enraged form.
Logan snarled as the familiar snikt of his claws sounded in the quiet alley around them. Logan slashed at Remy, catching him on the jaw, three distinct gashes appeared. This snapped the Cajun out of his stupor as he jumped up and assumed his own fighting stance, bo staff in one hand charged card in another his eyes glowing menacingly.
"Time to tango Wolvie," his voice low and cold, taunting Logan with the nickname Jubilee had used for him so often.
Logan and Remy clashed violently, charged items tearing at Logan's flesh the smell filling the air, blood pouring from the swipes that Logan provided to Remy's own skin. The battle was definitely one sided, anyone could see that, a drunk Cajun versus a man hell bent on revenge. Logan grabbed Remy by the collar of his trench coat, hoisting all his weight as Remy's eyes rolled in his skull, his breath coming out shallower with every second.
"Remy comin' to you petite," Remy said softly, his hand fumbling for the photograph in his pocket.
The anger that was radiating off of Logan turned suddenly to pain, his grip loosened on Remy and he allowed him to fall to the ground.
"I won't give you that pleasure then bub," Logan growled. "I'ma jus' gonna letcha live with whatcha done."
Turning on his heels Logan stalked out of the alley, leaving the bloody beaten Remy to whatever would come his way, satisfied that his revenge had been justified.
… end flashback….
Shaking his head of the memory, Remy downed the bourbon in his hand and stood again, moving to his trench coat that lay over the footrest of the bed. It was a new trench coat, it felt awkward wearing it, but soon enough Remy knew the fabric would become like a second skin to him. Folding back the side of the coat Remy reached into the breast pocket and pulled out his most coveted treasure, the photograph almost nothing now, having been folded and unfolded many times four permanent creases ran across the photograph coming apart at the edges. The memory still fresh of their time together.
You know somet'ing petite? Remy thought, casting his gaze upward. De spell you cas' on dis ol' man is still as fresh as de day I met you. Neva have I loved anot'er de way I love you.
…flashback…
How exactly he got to the hospital he didn't know, but here he was bandaged more than a mummy would be and hooked up to various machines Remy sighed wishing Logan would have just finished the job he had started out on.
'f only you woulda kept your mouth shut LeBeau you coulda been wit' her up dere. A rueful smile passed over his dry cracked lips, causing the lacerations on his face to burn. Dis devil wouldn'a made it to heaven wit'you t'ough would he?
Self pity being pushed aside when a small brunette nurse entered his room.
"Ah you're awake," she grinned, not at all phased by his eyes. "We were starting to wonder if you'd ever wake!"
"How' Remy get here?" Remy asked, eyeing up the gorgeous woman in front of him.
"A couple of locals from Pete's bar brought you in… do you remember what happened?"
"Bad fight wit' an ol' frien' you coul' say."
She nodded and continued to check Remy's stats silently, she picked up a clipboard.
"We took your ID from your wallet and composed a profile for our systems, but for the time being its only on paper until we can enter it into the system we need you to confirm everything. If that's alright?" she smiled shyly admiring Remy's eyes.
"Sure thing cherie," Remy nodded, knowing he really didn't have much of a choice.
"Alright… well we've got you down as Remy LeBeau, six feet two inches, one hundred and eighty pounds, born 1984…" the nurse rattled on.
"Everyt'ing's correct," Remy assured, his head pounding from the light in the room. "You mind turnin' down de lights and closin' de drapes fille?"
The woman nodded and complied, "anything else Mr. LeBeau?"
"Jus' some peace 'n' quiet," Remy requested, closing his eyes again.
Wordlessly the nurse nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her, leaving Remy to only his thoughts to torture himself.
Three weeks passed like hell for Remy as he was bound to the hospital bed, the only ray of light in his life at the time was the nurse, Rachel she was called. They developed a friendship, her bouncy attitude kept Remy from sinking into the depression that part of him wanted to be in.
Upon his release from the hospital Remy offered Rachel a date which she all but jumped on. The duo shared a small romantic meal in a cozy Italian restaurant, Remy found himself infatuated with the petite brunette and allowed himself to get caught up in their time together allowing him to forget his love for Jubilee, even if it were only for hours at a time.
Rachel and Remy began dating steadily after that, he learnt of her past, met family and friends, all the while his past remained hidden and painful which she seemed to understand even if she didn't accept it.
A year into their relationship they celebrated with an expensive dinner and rented a hotel room. Making love that evening Remy saw Jubilee's face flash across his memory, her laughter ringing in his ears.
"Jubilee!" he shouted.
Startled and embarrassed Rachel moved away from Remy, clutching the sheets to herself tears burning in her eyes she stared down the man beside her.
"Excuse me?" she asked coldly.
Everything came into perspective for Remy at that moment, the girl beside him reminded him so much of his Jubilee. He had blinded himself to that until that moment, her hair, her actions, everything so much like Jubilee's.
"Remy can' do dis anymore cherie," Remy said hoarsely, tears stinging his eyes. "It's not fair to you."
"Jubilee?" she asked, her own voice wavering with tears. "Is she the one- the one in the photograph you always carry."
"Does it really matter?" Remy pulled off the covers and dressed hurriedly, Rachel sobbing quietly behind him.
Not knowing what else to say Remy grabbed his coat and closed the hotel door behind him, he went to Rachel's small apartment where he gathered his belongings and in less than ten minutes he was back on the road again.
…end flashback…
You sure got you'self into a situation den didn' you homme? Remy thought bitterly. Didn' let you'self love again either… jus' takin' de females fo' one night at a time after dat…neve' learn anot'er name or face, jus' dere body…dere's not enough femmes in de worl' to satisfy de emptiness inside.
Looking at his reflection in the mirror Remy hoped to feel something, but only felt emptiness still. His face staring back at him like a strangers, gray hair had woven its way throughout his still long auburn hair, his eyes deeply creased, but not with laugh lines as some would call them. For Remy they were just as they were, wrinkles, the three scars from Logan a constant reminder. His eyes no longer glowed red but instead looked withered, the black would have faded to gray he was sure of it if only they would've been able to.
Once so vain homme what happen' to ya? His inner voice taunted.
Shaking the voice from his head Remy placed on his usual sunglasses, grabbed the trench coat from the bed and left the room behind with the voice. Moving through the crowds on the busy New York streets Remy settled into the first coffee shop he spied, his body needing more sustenance than just the bottle of bourbon in his room. Ordering a coffee and sandwich he settled into a small table, watching the people mill around him. Mutants and humans mingling as one, as they had been able to for the past fifteen years, no more fear, no more wars.
"Dis woulda made ya happy Professor," Remy mused quietly biting into the sandwich before him.
A group of noisy teens burst through the door of the coffee shop, frowning at their noise Remy raised his eyes from his sandwich and stopped, nearly choking. The group of five teenagers seemed to be like a blast from the past, each wore a band with an X on their sleeves, not that he needed to see that to know where they were from. Two of the teens, a boy and a girl looked like splitting images of Scott and Jean, another girl with long curly hair and white stripes had to be an off spring of Rogue's no doubt, a young man with body of blue hair had to be Hank's… and then there was him, though his back was to Remy as he argued over something with Hank's son, a boy of twenty years with a thick mane of white hair and caramel colored skin.
"Stormy," Remy grinned putting down his sandwich. "Good fo' you girly."
Remy watched the group order their meals, his heart warming at the group in front of him. His teammates had gone on to find their love, their futures and it was good. The group acquired their meals and turned to the tables and chairs in search of something that would accommodate their group size, Remy's eyes fell on Ororo's son and his heart stopped. The eyes staring back in his direction were the same aquamarine blue of his mother's but they were set on the same black as Remy's own eyes.
"Mon dieu," Remy breathed.