Never had the Mansion ever looked so good. Remy drank in the sight of it as he drove his bike up the long driveway. It'd been a long three months since he'd been here and he was more than ready to be back. This last mission had been a long, arduous one, and he was glad the damn thing was finally done. Gathering intel from a secret group set up in the middle of fucking nowhere was not his idea of a good time. What was it with these secret groups that they felt the need to set up in the mountains, or some dense forest? Couldn't they ever set up in some building in the city? Somewhere that had hotels, amenities, toilets? Oh, no, of course not. This group had to set their base at a mountain that was, naturally, surrounded by dense forests. Camping out in the forests was better suited for Logan. Remy was much happier in a five star hotel. He'd done his fair share of sleeping in the elements when he was a child and again when he was older and homeless. He didn't want to have to do it again. Though, he'd take the city streets over the forests, any day of the week.

But there'd been no one else around with the skill to get into this place. There'd only been Remy. So he'd sucked up his complaints, packed a bag, and left. Now he was finally coming home and he was going to go straight to Scott, drop off his report and the flash drive he'd brought, and then he was going upstairs to take the longest, hottest shower of his life.

There were people in the garage when he pulled in. Logan was in there, straightening up from the hood of a truck, and some guy was at his side that Remy didn't recognize. As he pulled his helmet off, he looked the other guy over and thought absently that he'd have to hack Scott's files later and look over any new arrivals. He made it a point to know everyone that was in the house.

Logan was grinning broadly at him around the cigar in his mouth. "I'll be damned. Look what cat dragged in."

Scowling good naturedly at his friend, Remy hung his helmet off the handlebar of his bike. "Y' say de sweetest t'ings, Wolvie. Gambit missed y' too." He lifted a hand and dragged it through hair that hadn't seen a haircut since he'd left. It was longer than his usual style and he'd taken to keeping it braided while working, but it didn't sit comfortably in a braid underneath his helmet. He grabbed the saddlebags off the back of the bike and hefted them up to sling over his shoulder. Aching muscles and bruises protested the movement and he battled back a wince. Not well enough, apparently. When he looked pu again there was a hint of sympathy in Logan's bright blue eyes. "Bad trip?"

Conscious of the guy watching on, and noting Logan's choice of 'trip' instead of 'mission', Remy answered just as discreetly. "Aint not'ing a hot shower and home cookin' won't cure. Ended up doin' a lil campin and y' know dat aint Gambit's t'ing."

"Course it aint." Logan said with a snort. "No booze or featherbeds."

"Or running water, indoor plumping, heaters…" Remy added in. The last one was said with a wave of longing. Oh, a heater would've come in handy. It had rained most of the time he'd been there.

Logan rolled his eyes at him and shook his head. "Bitch, bitch, bitch. Lazy Cajun." The last two words were said with their familiar teasing. Remy knew that Logan didn't mean them. It was an image Remy had perfected, his laziness, but it was one that Logan knew better than to believe. He knew how hard Remy worked even if others didn't realize it. As if to attest to that, Logan's gaze softened just slightly in ways that only those truly close to him would recognize, and he said "Scooter's in his office. Go on an check in with him and then you can make use of my shower. Keep ya safe from Bobby freezing it while you're in there. I'll bring some grub up for ya."

God bless good friends. Remy strolled over towards them and grabbed Logan by his sideburns to hold him in place so he could plant a kiss right on his lips. He jumped back quickly to dodge the swipe of claws he'd known would come. With a laugh, he took off towards the door leading inside, leaving behind an amused Logan and a shock new guy.

His meeting with Scott went much quicker than his one with Logan. Remy strolled into the man's office without even bothering to knock and he marched right up to the desk where Scott and Jean were both sitting, their heads together over some file. Remy reached up into one saddlebag and pulled out the flash drive and the files in there. He dropped them down right on top the file the two were looking at and he fixed Scott with a glare. "Y' owe Remy fo' dis." He said, pointing one finger at Scott to get his point across. "It's costing y' double. Y'r damn lucky it aint triple."

"Hello to you too, Remy. Welcome back. It's so good to see you." Scott said dryly.

Remy chuckled and smirked at him. "Désolé, Scotty, y' lookin' fo' a proper greeting? Remy already gave one fo' Logan."

"I shudder to think of what that entails." Scott shook his head and took the files and flash drive, pulling them down and putting them into a drawer. From that same drawer he pulled out a stack of envelopes and handed them over. "These are yours. Take them and go. You smell like Logan."

"Y' hush y'r mout'." Remy scolded him. He tipped a wink towards Jean and strolled out of the room.

Forty five minutes later he finally stepped out of the shower in Logan's room feeling semi-human once more. When he caught sight of the tray sitting on the end of the bed, right next to a stack of clean clothes, he grinned broadly. God bless Logan. He was a prince among men. Remy didn't even bother with the clothes yet. Clad only in a towel, he sat down on the bed and lifted the lid off the tray. Inside he found one of Logan's famous stack sandwiches and a mound of cheddar and sour cream chips. Even that simple food had Remy moaning happily. He crushed up the chips and stuck them on the sandwich and then dug in. In no time at all he'd polished off the whole tray down to the very last crumb.

The edge of hunger gone, Remy patted at his stomach, taking note of the slenderness there. It would take a few good meals for him to start filling back out.

He dressed in the clothes that Logan had left. The man must've raided Remy's room. He'd even grabbed a pair of older jeans that were usually a size or so too small. They fit perfectly right now. Hidden inside the clothes was a fresh pack of cigarettes. Remy scooped those up with a gleeful grin. He was going to owe Logan big for this. A whole case of beer, maybe, just for him. Remy pocketed the cigarettes, grabbed his trench, dug out the letters that Scott had given him, and then he was slipping out Logan's window and climbing his way up to the rooftop. He found his usual perch and settled down into it.

Perfect. Remy sighed and felt his muscles actually start to relax. Some of the tension that had sat in him for the past few months finally started to give way. Lighting up a cigarette helped even more. There was no need to be on high alert here. No need to watch every movement, clock every sound. He could relax here. It would take a while for him to get out of the habit, though. That was partly why he'd come up here to the roof. No one could get up here at him without being seen or heard. Here, he was safe and secure, in a defensible position, and here he could relax and smoke a cigarette while tackling the stack of letters in his hand. Just the sight of them was enough to have him grinning. If he wanted to think about blessing in life, this was one of the biggest ones right here. There was no one in his life quite like Dr. Spencer Reid.

He put his cigarette between his lips and let it dangle there as he sorted through the stack and counted out the letters there. Twelve of them. In the three months that Remy had been gone, Spencer had sent him twelve letters. A look at the dates stamped on them told him that there was one for each week that Remy had been gone. Leave it to Spencer to do something like that. The man had known Remy was going on a mission that would take him away from home and communication for a while.

Remy eagerly went to the first letter and quickly opened it. Then he leaned back against the section of roof behind him, stretched his long legs out, and started to read.

Dear Remy,

I know that by the time this letter arrives at its destination, you'll already be gone. But I also know that coming home and finding letters waiting for you will put a smile on your face and that is my intention. I imagine that you'll be in need of smiles by the time you get back home.

Not a whole lot has happened here since the last time that we spoke to one another. Just a few things that might not be all that exciting to anyone else but me. I went out for the afternoon with Garcia and Henry – now that is an experience all on its own. We went down to the Saturday market together. They were having a sort of festival there this week so there was music and extra stalls set up. The three of us even went to one of the booths and got our faces painted. The man running the booth seemed to only know how to do animals, so we let Henry pick them out. Garcia became a brightly colored butterfly, which I found rather appropriate. Henry chose to be a tiger. I was a jaguar. I'll have Garcia email you the pictures that she took.

The band they had playing when we first arrived – there are not words to describe the atrocity they unleashed on my ears. Thankfully they only stayed on for another half hour before the next band came out. We were just settling down onto the grass to eat our lunch when the new band came out. Imagine how thrilled I was when the first thing they started playing was Sinatra? Who expects to find a band playing Sinatra, and playing well, at a Saturday market! They were a cover band who went through some rather good music. The Rat Pack, Satchmo, and then they played 'Twist and Shout'. I have a video of Garcia and Henry standing in the grass together twisting and shouting their hearts out. Maybe I'll have her send that along to you as well. She was duly impressed that I figured out how to work the video function on my phone. I didn't have the heart to tell her that you taught me.

Well, my dear friend, there's nothing else that I can think of to put into this letter. As I said, not much has happened since we last spoke. So I'm going to go ahead and wrap this letter up and put it away. We're almost at our destination, anyways. I'm on the jet as I write this to you, flying out to a small town in Nebraska. I won't give you the details of the case. These letters are meant to be a pick-me-up, not a knock-you-down.

I hope that all is going well with you. Know that, as always, you are in my thoughts and on my mind.

Take care, my friend.

Love,

Spencer

The letter had the intended effect. Remy was smiling almost from the get go and he didn't stop his whole way through. He could just picture the trio out at a Saturday market, going from stall to stall with their faces painted, laughing and having a good time. Being with Henry was a wonderful excuse for Spencer to let out the kid in him that had never really had the chance to be. Add Penelope into the mix and it was almost guaranteed that they would have a wonderful, childish, hilarious time. Remy made a mental note to check his email later and see if the photos and video were in there. Those would definitely be worth a laugh or two.

He quickly put that letter away and moved eagerly on to the next.

Remy,

Hello, dear friend. Here we are again. It's been one week since I wrote my last letter to you. I've decided to write a letter a week until I hear from you. That allows a little time to pass so that I might actually have something to tell you in each letter. We both know that I can talk about pretty much anything but I'd rather not ramble. At least, not too much. Don't you roll your eyes at me! I know you are. You always roll your eyes when I make what you consider a disparaging remark. Silly man.

I've wondered about you the past few days. How your work is going. How you're doing. From what little I gathered from what you told me, you're out on this alone, aren't you? It doesn't surprise me. It does, however, worry me. I don't like knowing that you're out there without someone to watch your back. Yes, I know, you've survived many a year on your own without anyone there to back you up, and you much prefer to work alone, thank you very much. I know all this. It doesn't stop me from worrying, though. You get into your most trouble when there's no one there with you. In so many ways I wish I could be there. I don't trust most of the people at that house to properly back you up. If anyone is reading your letter (And shame on you if you are!) I stand by my statement and I will not apologize for it. The only one I think I truly trust to have your back would be Logan.

I know, you're probably arguing that there are others there worthy of trust. Ororo, for one. I'm not trying to imply that I don't trust her. She would fight for you and die for you and her love and loyalty to you is without question. But backing you up requires more than that. A person had to be able to tell you no. You need someone with you who can restrain you from doing the foolish things you so frequently try to do. You have no sense of personal safety, Remy LeBeau. Then again, I've been told the same thing, if you can believe it.

You'll never guess what it is I'm using right now. Go ahead, guess. Try. You'll get it wrong.

Figure it out?

I'm sitting here using an iPod. Is that how you spell it? It looks ridiculous like that. Emily assures me that's how it's spelt, though. Morgan's laughing at me now for the fact that I had to ask. But, I digress. I am actually using one. You've been trying to convince me to get one of these tiny little things for almost a year now. If you thought I didn't find the one you slipped into my coat the last time we were together, you were wrong. I found it. I simply put it aside. I've started an exercise regime, though, and I've been advised that running and working out and other devices of torture are easier to bear when one puts them to music. So now I put on one of the playlists that Emily showed me how to load and I play my music so that I can't hear my own pathetically gasping breaths as I run around that Godforsaken track.

Can you tell my enthusiasm for this?

I'm not exercising right now. I'm sitting once more on the jet. I put the headphones in, though, to sort of drown out everyone else. They've got a poker game going that I've been summarily banned from. I only won three hands. I don't know what their problem is. It's not my fault they chose to play for cash, is it? I tell you, the injustice of it all is simply appalling. When you get back home we should gather everyone for poker night at the Domingo. I'm in the mood for a good game. Ha. I had a mental image of the expression the others might wear if they ever saw our crowd for a poker night. The venue alone would stun them. The players at the table would stun them even more.

I've nothing really over this past week to tell you about in here. We've had a rather dull week and I've mostly been enjoying relaxing a little. The down time has been nice.

They just announced that we're arriving at our destination, so I'm going to wrap up this letter and let you go. I miss you, my friend, and count the days until I get to see you again.

Until then,

Spencer

Every letter that Remy read went along the same vein as the first two. Each one was full of love packed into every single word. Remy read letter after letter and found himself alternately smiling and laughing. The warm feeling in his heart grew little by little with each one he read. Gambit was slowly pushed aside and Remy came slipping back into place. He drank in Spencer's words and let them fill him up and chase away his tension. He didn't even notice as his body relaxed more and more.

By the time he was at the last letter, post-marked just yesterday, he had an almost permanent smile on his face. He opened up that final letter and saw it was the longest one yet.

My Dearest Remy,

I settle in to write this letter to you as I stretch out on my bed after the end of yet another long case. This letter, as you may notice, is a few days later than my usual ones. That's because we just worked two cases back to back. We didn't even get a chance to fly home from the last case! They sent us directly on to the next one. Time was of the essence. That's all I'll say on that, as you don't need the depressing images and I do not need to do anything that is going to encourage me to think about it more than I already am.

So, on to more positive things. Where did we leave off in our last letter? I believe I was telling you about the latest class I'm taking. Yes, yes I was. Japanese this time, remember? I'm enjoying it quite a bit more than I'd anticipated. I enjoy learning new languages, as you know, and I can't believe that I haven't learned this one before now. It's a fascinating language. I've always enjoyed learning about the culture. Now, I'll be able to learn even more. My instructor says that my accent is improving each time we meet. My ability with the written word is, as usual, quite well. You know that I have no problem memorizing the written word. Memorizing writing has never been a problem for me. People tend not to think about that. They think of my memory in the context of work, or of remembering books or my facts or statistics. I don't think they realize the many applications an eidetic memory has. Then again, I don't think they truly understand what it even is. That's fine. Let them underestimate me. You taught me the benefit of that.

Pardon the slightly smudge of the pen there. A song came on the internet radio station and it made me laugh, which in turn made my pen scratch the page. 'Build me up, Buttercup' came on. It brought on an instant image of our friend and that night of karaoke. I don't think the bar knew what to do with him! We've certainly never let him live it down. That's what he gets for singing karaoke while drunk. Singing it was great enough blackmail. Picking a random stranger—a male stranger—only made it even better. He's lucky we didn't have a camera on us to film it.

Do you ever miss the ease of our life back then? I was still in college ,you were yet to join to the X-Men, and we had our own lives and our own friends. We had fun. I don't think the friends I have now would recognize the young man I was then. They all have this image of me as a nerdy, quiet young man who spent all his time in his room or in the library. If they knew all the trouble we used to get into together, I think it would stun them. Sometimes it's tempting to tell them just to watch the expressions on their faces. The look that Morgan would wear if he knew that you and I backpacked our way across Europe with a few friends one summer, it would be a sight to see. His eyes would bulge and his mouth would most likely hang open. He might even be rendered speechless. That would be a truly amazing fete. Derek Morgan without a comeback.

Speaking of our friends, Vy contacted me. She's going to be in town in three weeks and she is apparently thinking along the same lines as I am. She wants a poker night. I told her that you were out of contact for now and that I was unsure when you'd return. Right now we have a tentative date set for the fourth of July. Our own personal Independence Day celebration, you could say. If you're not back in time for that, we'll push it back. I really do hope you're home by then. Once I know for sure that this is the date, I'll request the time off work. I'm going to request a few days instead of just one or two. Our last few visits have been short and pitiful. I want time to spend with everyone. I don't want to stay at home, either. I'd like to get a hotel room, just to make it more of a vacation. I don't want us to be interrupted, either. I'm quite jealous of my time with you. I don't like to share any more than I have to. We'll have to get together a few days before the others arrive if you want to leave the hotel room at all to see them. I plan on keeping you in that bed for the first two days, at least.

I shouldn't write this way. Not while sitting here alone in this big, empty bed. I remember the last time you were here in it with me. This is another of those instances that an eidetic memory can come in handy. Do you remember it, Remy, my dear? Do you remember how we were together? How frantic you were by the time we got back from the bar? That was a wonderful night. We were lucky the cops weren't called on us for the noise disturbance. You accidentally blew up my pillow that night. Remember how sweetly you made it up to me?

Don't stay away too much longer, my Remy. There are those at home that are eagerly awaiting your return. You are in my thoughts day and night, as I hope I am in yours.

All of my love,

Spencer

Sweet God. Remy was amused, happy, and turned on, all at the same time. How the hell did Spencer manage to do that to him? It was stunning. No one else had that power over Remy. With no one else had he ever found a relationship like the one he'd found with Spencer. Things had always been this way between them. There was something there that had sprung to life between them from the very first instant they'd met during Spencer's first year at Caltech. They'd been the best of friends from that moment onward. Or, occasionally, more.

What would stun anyone who ever found out about it was that Rogue and Spencer knew about each other, about Remy's complicated relationship with either one of them. Spencer, of course, knew everything in Remy's life. Remy kept nothing from him. Absolutely nothing. And it had been Spencer who had told Remy that he needed to be up front with Rogue about things. "Remy," Spencer had said in that exasperated tone of his. "We've learned the hard way that things don't work out well when we try and date someone and don't tell them about each other. Do you remember what happened when you and Debbi dated and you didn't tell her about me? She broke that gravy bowl over your head."

He'd had a point. Though Remy didn't understand it, not many women took it well when they found out about Spencer. It wasn't that he slept with Spencer when he was with someone else. He was loyal and faithful even if people didn't believe that. Remy wasn't a cheater. It was the closeness of their friendship that seemed to bother women the most. They saw how the two were together and they assumed so much about them. So when Remy and Rogue had officially gotten together the first time, he'd told her about Spencer in clear and simple terms, explaining to her that he and Spencer wouldn't sleep together in a sexual way while he was dating her, but that he wasn't going to give up his friend and he wasn't going to give up the casual, non-sexual touches that they did, nor was he going to stop sleeping in Spencer's bed when he visited.

Spoke out like that, he'd realized just how bad that actually did sound and understood a little more why women didn't react so well. Rogue had stunned him, though. She'd told him that she wasn't going to ask him to give up his very best friend. She'd also told him that she understood that it was going to be hard being with someone he couldn't touch and that, if things got bad enough that he felt the need to stray, she wouldn't hold it against him if he indulged in that with Spencer. Then she'd floored him completely by telling him she'd give her complete okay for them if they didn't mind letting her watch once in a blue moon. Remy remembered the shock on Spencer's face when he'd passed along that little piece of information.

The idea of going to see Spencer and some of their old friends for one of their rare get-togethers sounded like the perfect thing. Remy mentally pulled up a calendar and saw that the fourth wasn't that far away. His lips curled up slightly in a pleased smirk. Perfect. He suddenly knew exactly how Scott was going to pay him back for this hellish mission.

Remy pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a familiar number. He lit another cigarette as he put the phone to his ear and listened to it ring. Lying back, he stared up at the slowly darkening sky, and he was blowing a smoke ring when Spencer's warm voice happily answered with an excited "Remy!"

"Bonsoir, cher. Remy's back home. So y' just go on ahead and put in dat time off request fo' work." Remy said, without wasting a single moment. "Jus' how much time off have y' got accrued? Cause Remy's got plans…"