Metamorphosis

"And it feels now
Just like heaven's coming down
Your soul shakes free
As its conscience hits the ground
This time, no tears
Just one last chance to see you prove

Stay Strong, No Fears
There is a change that's coming through
Hold on my love
Hold on..."-The Tea Party

Remy entered the house as silently as he could, a task that was easy even without sight. He had memorized the layout of the mansion years ago, so he knew which routes to take to avoid being seen by either the students or by his own teammates.

He snorted when he rolled the word around his head. Teammates. Non. They really weren't even that anymore. He hated to admit it, but he knew how superfluous he had become now that he was blind. Although it wasn't said out loud or around him, he knew that the team was at odds as to what to do with him. He was, for all intents and purposes, like a broken vase, or a slashed painting. An ornament that was pretty and eye-catching when it was whole that served a vague purpose in the larger scheme of things. But once damaged, the purpose was irrevocably lost.

They didn't say it, but he could feel it. The whole house felt as if it had been soaked with the others' contempt, guilt and avoidance. Although he was hiding it fairly well, the atmosphere of the mansion was draining him, making it twice as difficult for him to keep up the pretence. After all, it wasn't as if he was that important in the long run. He wasn't really a leader, nor was he part of the inner fold of the X-men. He was always the outsider, the one standing on the edges of the group, touching the windowpanes and hoping that some warmth would be absorbed into his hands if he kept his fingers pressed to the cold glass long enough.

That was the main reason why he chose to wander around at night. No one to run into, no one to fill his exhausted mind with emotions he was barely struggling to keep away. He was better at it when he was younger, but he simply couldn't keep it up any longer. There was only so much he could tolerate, and their indifference was eroding every shield he had carefully maintained.

So he kept away from them. Not to mention one other person in particular.

"When will y' learn?" He asked himself as he ran his fingers down the wooden panels of the hall, his mind silently counting the gaps between the moldings and carvings that would lead him to the nearly forgotten back stairs. Once he had made his way there, he climbed them, careful not to make them creak or make any other noises that would bring anyone running. He wanted to be alone. That was the only way that he could keep from slipping into the dark despair that was waiting at the corner of his mind. A mind that was now in even more turmoil than usual due to the encounter he had had with Jon-no, Chamber- that morning.

It unnerved him, since he had been completely comfortable in his presence. No coldness or indifference or guilt coloured the other man's emotions. Nothing except lukewarm confusion and a genuine need to be with someone that made Remy's emotion-starved heart thaw out just enough for him to enjoy Jo-Chamber's company, an occurrence that was so currently lacking that it made him feel out of sorts.

He puzzled over this unaccustomed warmth as he struggled to push it away. He didn't want to stumble down that road again.

"Le Dieu knows that ain't the path Remy's ever gonna take." Never had been. And he was going to fight going down there for as long as he possibly could.

He somehow made it to his room and quickly locked the door behind himself. With luck, they would forget about him for at least most of the day, maybe even into the evening as well. He slumped against the door and ran his fingers down the molding as he tried to take deep breaths to ease the tight coldness in his lungs.

He wheezed for a few minutes as he got used to the atmosphere of the house and grinned mirthlessly to himself as he did so.

"Yet another reason to not take that path" He thought cynically as he finally fought long enough to regain mastery of his breathing. Once he had done that, he shuffled over to the antique four-poster bed. As he gripped the bedpost, Remy was once again glad to have spent the money for such an elaborate, yet comfortable resting place.

When he sat down on the bed, he felt as if he was composed of nothing more than string and rubber. His hands shook badly and he was shivering, the morning cold somehow settling into his bones now that he was in his warm room.

He groaned softly as he rested his staff against the bedside table and shucked off his coat, letting it fall carelessly onto the ground. Rubbing his bare arms, he pushed the covers back and burrowed deeply into his bed. He lay there for several minutes, letting his body relax into the mattress before he closed his eyes and tried to not think about a pair of deep brown eyes and a warm hand that had turned his world upside down.

Jono paced around his room, Gene Loves Jezebel playing softly as he debated what to do with the rest of his day. After Re-Gambit had left, he had wandered around the woods long enough to get roped into taking a biology class on a nature field trip by Scott. He had been tempted to screw around a bit with the oh so fearless leader's mind, but he was sure that the red-haired missus wouldn't take to kindly if she found somethin' dodgy in the Charlie's head. So he willingly took the task and occasionally amused himself by occasionally spinning yarns about what could be found in the Northern moors. He was pretty sure that he was going to get a talking to later, especially when the big leader git found out that he had told the students there actually was a giant water snake in the sparse lakes of the North.

Grinning mirthlessly to himself, he went into the kitchen to get a glass of Ovaltine and milk. Pretty tame, but after not needing to eat or drink anything for years, it was a pleasure that he swore he would never take for granted again.

He had walked into the kitchen and had just suppressed a groan when he found the Rogue bird sharing a bit of what he supposed was brekky with the Popsicle, even though his watch said it was about two in the afternoon.

He didn't really have much against the icicle. He was just annoying and berkin' mad. Sometimes he was amusing, but Jono didn't really pay much attention to him. He was just one odd duck and he wasn't really a dick. Just perpetually caught in a protracted adolescence. Nothing else.

The bird was a different matter. Although he was good at making shields and not using his telepathy without warning, the bird's emotions and thoughts would occasionally slip and no matter how careful he was. It gave him insight into how she was feeling and he really couldn't blame her for feeling so low sometimes. After all, although his power left him damaged, he could still seek comfort in touch. The bird didn't even have that.

Fine, he could understand loss and despair. Hell, he had taken the trip, written the book and got the effin' T-shirt. What he couldn't understand was the way she would fluctuate between seething anger and cold indifference when it came to Remy, the man who loved her despite all. Jono knew the man loved her in the past. He wasn't so sure about now, since he didn't get any indication that the Cajun felt much of anything anymore.

At first it had puzzled him, since she was semi-solicitous to the injured man, in that rough way that the deep southern birds had. But the longer he watched and the occasional thought that would pass by made him begin to ask himself whether she really had any feelings left for him or whether she was simply with him because there was nothing else for her. Better the devil you know than the devil you don't know indeed.

He understood it all. And the longer he stayed and watched, the stronger his disgust with her grew. Sure, he had been the stereotype of the despairing, Byronic youth. But he had always turned it inwards. He had never really been a prick to anyone intentionally. Nor had he tied anyone to himself because he had been afraid of sinking into his own abyss.

Lord above, he had tried not to hate her. He really had. Especially since he wasn't sure whether she was even aware of what she was doing or if she was simply playing a cruel game and simply didn't care that in her nihilism, she was also destroying another life as well.

So rather than test that theory, he had kept away from her as long as he could. But he supposed that his luck had to run out at some point.

And it looked like some point was today.

"Afternoon' Sugah." The bird greeted him as he went over to the fridge.

"Afternoon." He muttered as he pulled out the milk and set it on the counter.

"Afternoon Jonovision." Popsicle greeted him as he half-heartedly picked through the paper.

"Afternoon." Jono replied shortly turning away to mutter "fuckwit" before pulling down the Ovaltine, a glass and a spoon from the cupboards. He knew the joke, having had spent some time wandering around in Toronto, but he didn't think it was funny at all.

They sort of gave up talking to him as he concentrated on making his drink, and instead spoke about the inanities of life as they ate some toast and that wretched globbed up shite that they called brekky on this side of the pond.

He put the spoon in the sink once he was finished and turned to sit at the counter, his mind for once not really running around in circles. Strangely enough, after the encounter with Rem-Gambit, he was feeling less like he wanted to hang himself or get utterly faced to forget how things in his life were. He had been so affected by the encounter that he found himself actually thinking about the other man, and even going so far as to recall the exact way that his eyes looked in the dawning light when he was nudged out of his reveries by the bird.

"Ye don' want some grits and eggs? I made plenty. Hopefully a Swamp rat named Lebeau will come down to eat some." She said to him, trying to pass it off as a joke, yet coming off humorless despite the softening effect of her southern accent.

"I had one, but the wheels fell off." Jono replied flatly before downing the rest of his drink and walking up the stairs, trying to hide the fact that he was slightly aggro over the cow's attitude towards Remy.

So now he was here, in his room, trying to figure out why he was feeling like he wanted to tear every single square inch of his skin off again. He went over the days' activities. He was sure it wasn't cause he had been roped into a thankless chore, making kids look at tree bark and dragonflies. Nor was it the trip back. No. He knew it had to do with the bird in the kitchen and the off-handed way she had couched her insult with a cheap joke.

He frowned and paced around a bit longer as he decided what to do. He wasn't about to get arsed this early in the day. Nor was he in the mood for destroying training equipment, since all that would happen is that it would make him angrier and even more prone to try and carve out what was bothering him.

He knew what he had to do, but he wasn't sure as to whether he should do it. After all, it wasn't as if he and Remy were the best of mates before and he wasn't sure how the other man would take to finding him on his doorstep so to speak.

He thought about it for a few more songs until the crawling feeling under his skin got so bad that without another thought, he shut off the stereo and made his way down the hall.

He was awoken by a soft tapping on his door, making him sit bolt upright in bed, his hand already on one of the loose cards he kept by his bedside.

"Oi, Mate, you awake?" The low, croaky voice made him release the card and take a deep breath to ease the churning of his stomach.

"Oui." He rasped out, wincing at the sound of his own voice.

"Owrigh'. Uh…listen mate, woul' it be awrigh' if I stepped in for a bit of a chat?" Jo-Chamber asked, his voice sounding awkward and slightly unsure in Gambit's head, making him smile nervously.

"At least I'm not the only one feelin' awkward." He thought before he ran his hand through his hair and gave Chamber the go-ahead.

"Ta very much mate." Chamber said as he walked heavily into the room and pausing at the comfortable chair Remy had bought to match the heavy mahogany roll-top desk that sat underneath the window.

"Y' can sit. The chair don' bite, homme." Gambit teased him. Although he tried to make his voice light, it still came out awkward and stiff, as if he was an actor that hadn't found a voice for the part he had been assigned to play.

"Ye got a weir' sense of 'umor, mate." Chamber snorted out as he sat down, the creaking of leather pausing only when he had finally made himself comfortable.

"I do try, mon ami." Gambit riposted as he rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand before pulling up his knees and resting his arms on them.

Chamber shrugged, making his leather jacket creak slightly. That was the only sound in the room for several moments before he cleared his throat.

"Ye don' have to." He finally whispered, making Gambit flinch slightly.

"Tell me, homme. Did y' come to take pity on pore ol' blin' Gambit? Is that why y' came?" Gambit asked, his voice casual and even slightly amused, shielding the doubt and annoyance he felt at the younger man's concern.

"Wot?" Chamber asked, his voice getting an edge to it that made him sound as if he was channeling Tom Waits.

"Are ye daft or summing, ye bloody git? Is that the way y' talk to your mates?" Chamber snorted.

"'Cause if y' do, I ain't surprised ye're being avoided like the bloomin' Black Plague."

Gambit's mouth twitched at what Chamber was saying to him, but he didn't make a move in his defense. For all he knew, they were all saying the same thing. If he really wanted to, he would make an effort to be useful, be part of the team. If Jono wanted to think that, he was welcome to.

Although he told himself that, he felt a small spark of stabbing disappointment that he didn't want to even want to explain away lest it tore the fresh scabs he had painstakingly worked to heal over his soul yet again.

"Well, mon ami, if ye don' find the Cajun bonne company, there's always the tv."

Jono snorted as he got up from the chair and walked over to Gambit's bed and stood over the older man.

"Wot's the matter with ye, Remy? Why th' bloody hell are ye doing this? I ain' yer enemy mate, so why ye're trying to make me bugger off?" Jono asked, his voice so harsh that it made Gambit wince.

"I ain' them, awright. I ain't yer pristine missus, nor I ain' the wankers that most of the Divs 'ere are. Ye better level wif me mate, an' explain why ye're being a Billy no Mates before I go bloody aggro on ye, awright?"

Gambit blinked at Jono after the younger man had finished his sharp diatribe, half of which didn't make utter sense to him, despite making the rounds all over.

"Ahm waiting, ye daft tosser." Jono reminded him after they had sat in silence for a few minutes, Jono waiting for Remy to speak while the Cajun was waiting for the Brit to get fed up and leave.

"Did dey sen' you to talk to Gambit?" Remy asked, still not willing to give in to the small flickering of hope that Jono's touch had roused earlier that night and was now being strengthened by the fact that he had searched him out to talk to him, even though it was to yell at him in slang that he hadn't the faintest idée what it meant.

Jono snored and shook his head, slouching even further into the chair.

"Nah. I wanted to talk, that was why I came up 'ere."

Remy blinked and rubbed at his elbow with an almost absent-minded, casual air.

"Mais…porquoi?" Remy asked after the silence that had followed Jono's simple statement made the silence tangibly painful.

"Eh?"

"Gambit asked why, homme?"

Jono sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, his eyes on the floor as he thought about why he had finally decided to talk to the older man. He was thinking about it, trying to come up with a reason that was cohesive and plausible other than: "I'm fucked up. I want someone to be with that doesn't live in some other reality I don't subscribe to." When his fingertips started itching and his skin, specially on the insides of his arms began to curl in remembered anxiety.

"Ye don' make me want to peel me own skin off." He blurted out as he pulled up his sleeves and began to rub his inner arms.

"Wha?" Remy asked, taken aback at the honest, if unorthodox answer he got from Jono.

Jono laughed, a sharp, harsh cynical sound before he elaborated. He pulled up his sleeves to show him what he meant and looked up. Only to realize once again that Remy was stone blind.

"Here. This is what I mean, mate." Jono told him as he went over to Remy and gently placed Remy's hand onto the inside of his arm.

"Mon Dieu…what 'appened to ye, homme?" Remy whispered when he was able to piece together that the thick, raised lines like snakes over the landscape of Jono's skin were scars. Dense scar tissue left over from personal wars with demons or clumsy attempts to end it all or simply a combination of both.

"It's what people do to me, mate. Make me wan' to crawl ou of me skin before I go barkin' mad. Maybe it's cause I can read their thoughts. Or maybe cause I've seen too much shite going on. I dunno, mate I usually wan' to peel my skin away when I'm with other people." He laughed harshly as he watched how Remy's fingers delicately moved over the network of scars. Most of the time people did that, he would quickly pull his arms away and immediately scrub at this skin. Most of the time. But when Remy's hands touched him, he felt…

Safe.

Warm.

Comforted.

"It kinda sours ye on the whole wantin' to be with other people, ya know? I guess that was why I lef'."

"Why did y' come back then? This isn' the place to be agains' yer fellow bein', mon ami." Remy reminded him, his voice holding a trace of irony as he spoke.

"The only thin' I can fall back on, mate. The only thing. At least I don' have to deal with complete bloomin' idiots. Jus' lock the door and walk aroun' at night."

"So, we're all idiots, homme?"

"Not you."

Remy stiffened at that announcement.

"Ye don' make me want to 'ang meself." Jono replied in a calm voice. "Everyone else…they just make me feel shite I don' care to feel. It's different wif ye."

"Why's it differen'?" Remy whispered, his hand stilling on Jono's arm. He knew.

He knew very well how Jono felt. If he himself didn't have a deck of cards, a cigarette and a well placed remark on his lips, he would have gone the same way. No touching. No talking. No contact. It was easier that way rather than deal with the jarring displacement other people awakened in him. Especially when they had more than casual contempt for him.

He knew about that calm. That had been the root of his fear. The reason why he had simply fled. He had received that calmness from being with the younger man in the woods and he was afraid that once he had tasted it, he was never going to get it again.

He didn't hear the reply. All he felt was the abused arm move away and his cracked heart getting cracked just a bit more. He was sure he was going to hear footsteps backing away and the door closing quietly afterwards. He had asked too much, he knew. But he wanted to hear it. Just once. He wanted to hear someone say it without rancor or regret.

He was stunned when he felt the hands on his face, tracing the edges of his jaw line, his lips and cheekbones.

"There's no one else mate, that has done it for me. Just like no one else has done it for you, that's why it's different."

Remy's mouth opened and closed as tears glimmered on the edges of his eyes. He wanted to say something in return, but Jono pressed his fingers against his lips with one hand while brushing away the tears with the other.

END.