(There's even some cuddling… sorta… And to put your fears to rest: Remy is not a weakling, and he's not suicidal. Just very determined .)

(Also: I am doing the fan-writer thing in which the original character is being used as a beginning. I gave him the 'charm power' and 'empathy' of most ffs, even though in the Mravel uni he doesn't have them. But it's so much fun to make him suffer. A note on his powers: He is an empath with the small ability to manipulate attraction. He is faster, stronger, able to heal as well as more agile than average, He has a very vast amount, almost indefinite, of kinetic energy he can tap into. These powers will continue to develop over time.)

-

Remy woke up. There was no transition, no moment of decision. He simply sat up, so aware of everything around him. Everything was clear, for the first time in a long, long time, Remy felt… whole. He felt around his mind, exploring the new territory that Sinister's blocks had 'saved' him from. Here was the true extent of his powers.

And oh, how much more they were. How much more powerful they were. His empathy was heightened, he could feel each emotion in the mansion, feel each person as a whole person. Each set of emotions separate and distinct to a person. He felt his reservoir of kinetic energy deepened, especially after being held back for so long.

Why had he been afraid to harness these powers? Why had he been led into the thinking that he couldn't control himself? Remy's thoughts grew dark, feeling keenly the death of his brother-in-law and the loss of his family. There, he knew, was the problem. He had been so alone and just coming into his kinetic powers. So frightened after he had done so much damage inadvertently.

He felt the usual fear of the memories, the pain and anger related to them; emotions that had at one time swallowed him whole. Had convinced him that Sinister was helping him by curbing his growing powers. But they were distant, almost like the feeling of another person.

Remy's head snapped to the side as he felt someone approach the closed door of the small room he was in. He realized after a second that the lights were dimmed and that he was attached to an IV. His intense hatred of labs and all things related boiled to the surface, and as he realized with a sort of detached horror that he was charging the IV and it's stand, but he was too late to reign in the power. The bag and metal stand blew up, startling the person at the door, sending a spike of fear and anger into his head.

He cried out, unable to stop the roaring headache that pressed his brain into his skull with every throb of his heart. He could feel the rush of blood behind his closed eyes, could feel the veins in his head beat angrily.

"Remy? You okay kid?"

Despite his usual inability to flaunt his weaknesses in front of a potential enemy—and everyone was a potential enemy—he shook his head, wincing at the pain the movement caused.

"Headache?"

The concern in Logan's voice – wait, Logan?

"Logan? Dat you?" Remy croaked, throat dry. He coughed hard, and when he woke up again, Logan was looking down at him with a hand in Remy's hair, cradling his head and neck.

"Hold up kid, don't get excited now. Yeah, it's me. Let's get Blue in here and see what we can do 'bout th' headache. Anything else hurt?" Logan's usually fierce blue eyes were trained on Remy with a gentleness he'd only seen used with Logan's "girls". Remy forgot to answer, lost in the feeling of concern and the brilliant blue of Logan's eyes.

"Kid? You with me? Hey, Blue! He's out again!"

"No- non. I'm 'ere. Jus' slow. Wha' 'appened?"

Remy felt Hank enter the room without seeing him, his eyes still glued to Logan's face. He felt the large mutant move around him, signing at the mess on the floor. "Third one this week…" Remy felt big hands pull the needle from his arm. "I should have checked on you sooner young Gambit. But when Logan told me he would keep an eye on you, I was glad for the help. You have been quite the handful, even unconscious you seem to want to wreck my med-lab!" There was a warm affection in Hank's voice and demeanor, taking the sting of the words away.

"I was jus' trying to make sure the runt was okay. Scared the shit outta me back there."

Logan had turned away, talking to Hank, and Remy felt the worry and fear coming off Logan in waves.

"Don' feel so bad, cher. Was my fault, oui? Nothin' you could do but let m' go, an' y' didn'. Guess dat make you eider crazy or stupid. An' since you ain't stupid…" Remy whispered with a slight smile. He felt the disappointment before the frown appeared on Logan's face, tearing his smile down.

"I couldn't leave ya t' die there, now could I?" Remy saw the hurt in Logan's eyes just before he walked out, leaving behind a saddened Cajun and a confused doctor.

"Well, Gambit, you've managed to survive the last two weeks. We were not certain for a few days, especially when you re-broke your ribs. But, you have healed up nicely, and soon you will be as good a new. You WILL need to eat more, though. You are far under a healthy weight, and even farther under a recommended weight. I have been pumping you with as much as I can in between your frequent destructive tendencies towards my equipment." Hank kept on, but Remy tuned him out, thinking about what he'd been told. Two weeks! He could only imagine what had happened while he was out, what he had done as his mind healed from the trauma of the break.

"Where is de professeur?" He asked suddenly, looking into Hank's eyes, feeling the uncomfortable energy around him. But Hank was not angry, and not afraid of him. He was concerned and he was curious.

"He is on his way down. He wants to talk to you. But, before he comes, would you be so kind as to take these," he held out a set of white pills, dwarfed by a giant palm. "They are pain pills, for the headache."

"Me an' drugs don' get along well, M. Bete. In fact, we ten' to avoid meetin'."

"I know that your metabolism reacts differently to medications than some, but after doing some tests over the week, I think I have found something that may help. It is still in the testing process, but since I doubt that you will submit willingly to a blood sample, it will be, as Jubilee calls it, "Guinea Pig time". Now, you will take the pills, or you will get a shot. You no longer need the antibiotics, so unless you do not cooperate," a stern look and a wave of determination, "you will not need any more shots for some time."

Remy thought about it, but in the end his throbbing head won out, and he struggled to sit up. It was embarrassing and it grated on his newly remembered sense of dignity, but Hank helped him up and handed him the pills and a glass of water. Remy looked pleadingly up to the grinning face, and was met only by a firm look. He sighed and swallowed the pills, forcing back the slight unease at the action. He had been fed some "medicines" that were less than pleasant before.

There was the sound of a throat clearing, and Hank looked down at Xavier. "Do not rile my patient. No stress. He needs rest still. I will be back in twenty minutes."

Hank left with a last glance to the pair before leaving in the line of sight. Xavier came closer to the bed, closing the door part of the way, leaving plenty of room but shielding them from prying eyes. Remy knew the tactic for what it was, a psychological move to keep the encounter open.

"It is good to see you awake and well after all that has happened to you. I give you my apologies for trespassing in your mind, but I do not regret my actions. You were in great distress, and you could have harmed others."

Remy nodded, "Oui, it was for the best." That didn't stop him from being bitter and angry about the violation.

The Professor pressed on, "The blocks that I broke by accident… Who put them there and how were they designed to keep you safe?"

Remy thought about how much information he should divulge. They knew already about his affiliation with Sinister, but how much? How much did he want this man to know about his life, his past? He weighed the decision, and decided that Xavier's acceptance of him was something that he craved, that he needed. He had to take the chance that Xavier would not understand, would throw him out.

'It wouldn' be th' firs' time.'

Remy sighed, and he started talking.

"Sinister made th' blocks. I ask him to do it though. Was frightened by m' lack o' control o' m' kinetics an' m' empathy. Hurt… it hurt so much before th' blocks."

"So you are an empath. I figured as much when you reacted so strongly around the others. Why did Sinister help you?

"I put together the Marauders. Did th' dirty work f' him." Remy shuddered visibly at the memories. Charles continued, his concern outweighed by curiosity and guilt.

"So as your abilities changed, the power behind the walls grew and the manifestations did not. What set off your empathy so much?"

"Antarctica. Came back an' ev'ry one hated po' Remy. Made it hard to keep m' shields up when I was so weak." He tried to read Charles' reaction to his statement, and received only static, a feeling of nothingness. It was equal parts disturbing and intriguing.

"How are y' blockin' me, Professeur? Can' feel a ting from ya." He almost smiled at Charles' face when he asked the question, it was a mixture of amusement and ire.

"Do not try to change the subject Remy. And I can do it because I have trained myself to do it. Just like you can train yourself to block out the world's emotions when you need to. I am not an empath, but I have had contact with several in my life. I think that I can help you erect your shields so that you are not overwhelmed with the powerful emotions of battle. Even the powerful emotions of living in a crowd. I have dampened this room as best I can, but you can still feel what is going on around you, am I right?" Charles raised an eyebrow and waited, hands steepled beneath his chin.

"Oui," Remy said as he explored the room with his powers. He found that the intensity of the emotions he felt when he had awoken were gone, replaced by a faint hum, like a background noise in his mind. He also realized, with a start, that his head had stopped aching, and that he could move without the searing pain. He smiled.

"Seems dat M Bete was right 'bout th' pills. M' head's not killin' me now."

Charles sighed, but he had a smile on his face. "We need to talk about some of the things that I encountered in my invasion of your privacy. No, let me finish." Charles raised a hand to Remy's potential outburst, and Remy closed his mouth. He supposed that in order to earn the trust he so desperately needed right now, he had to listen to the man. He nodded and crossed his arms on his chest, mindful of his still-aching ribs.

"When I entered your mind, you were under a great deal of stress. Two power surges in less than three hours, they could have killed you, and perhaps anyone in the area. I had to do it. I had to stop that. Do you understand this, because I do not want you to feel like I just traipsed through your head. I do not—do NOT—invade anyone's privacy unless there is ample cause. If there had been any other way to reach you…" Remy nodded and let some of the anger slip away, but he was still angry about it.

"Now when I first went in, you threw me out. That takes a lot of power and practice fro most people, Remy. The second time, I got in with little resistance. The pain you were in overwhelmed me and I was pulled further into your mind than I wished to have to go. I took a chance though and followed the instincts that led me to the blocks. Those were powerful blocks that were both mental and physical it seems. They were causing you great pain, and when my mind brushed against them trying to see them more clearly, they broke. I was caught in a flood of your memories and emotions. I have told you on more than one occasion that your third-person disassociation was a psychological defense mechanism. Well, you seem to repress many things as well."

Charles looked sadly at Remy, watching his reactions to the story. He didn't want to hurt the boy anymore, but they had to address some of the issues before Remy could repress them once more.

"I will not discuss too much of this today, Hank will be back soon. But I would like to see you for therapy, once or twice a week. I know that it seems silly, but what they say does have merit, that when you talk about things they can be less hurtful."

Remy shook his head, "Non, professuer. Some tings get worse wit' talk. Some tings don' need to be remembered, but we 'member them anyway. Mais, d'accord. Especially if it take me outta dis lab. Gimme th' creeps in here. Brings back too many mauvaises mémoires." Remy sighed and looked away. "Je suis desole, professeur. Mais, I'm tired now. Can' I go t' sleep?"

Charles looked at the young man in front of him, so lost right now, and feeling so alone.

"Remy, we do love you here. You are one of us. You are a part of the team, and despite what some members might feel, the X-men take care of our own. I know that we mistreated you, and that is unforgivable. But I ask only that you open up and feel some of the love we have for you." He stopped, and he let down his shields. Remy gasped at the sudden influx, but he was overwhelmed by the concern and the love. Some part of his psyche knew he needed this, needed to feel this love. But the rest of him was still so alone and jaded. It would be a long time before he could truly forget what they had done to him.

He nodded to Charles, though. Dusted off a smile and tried it on. Charles smiled as well, and just before Hank came back in, he added, "Logan went after you. But he did so because he was concerned about you. He has not left your bedside for long these past weeks." Remy looked at Charles, confused. Why would he tell him that? Even as he asked that same question out loud, he felt the irrational hope that he had buried so long ago rekindle.

"Because you need to hear it, and because some people need happiness more than they think they deserve."

Charles smiled as Hank came in, but he turned and left. "Hank, I think you should let him get some sleep. You can talk to him about what you have found later." And he was gone. Hank smiled and looked down at the man in the bed. His auburn hair bedraggled and his red-black eyes staring up from still-bruised eyes. He was a sad sight for sure. He sighed and pulled off his glasses.

"Well, young Remy, do you mind if I call you that?" A shake of hi head and a small smile let the doctor release some tension. "Well then, Remy, I think you need some sleep, and when you wake up again, we shall talk. Logan is still here, growling around my lab. Would you like some company, or would you prefer I tell him to leave?" There was an unspoken question there, one that Remy chose to ignore.

"Oui, let 'im in. Merci beaucoup, mon ami." With that Hank left, and Remy settled back into the pillows. He would talk to Logan for a while, and then he could sleep. But even as he made up his mind, his eyes slid shut and he was asleep in seconds.

-

Logan walked in with a cup of tea for the Cajun, hoping to talk a little before he went back to sleep. But as he looked up he could hear the soft breathing and the slow heartbeat of a man asleep. He wasn't surprised by the fact that the Acadian had fallen asleep still sitting up, after all the man was still healing. He sighed and set down the tea. He walked quietly over to the bedside, staring at the young face. Over the last two weeks Logan had found himself examining his limited interactions with the boy, and discovering a certain amount of protectiveness in himself that he had overlooked. It was the same protectiveness he felt towards his pack, his team and his 'daughters' Jubilee and Kitty. But it was also deeper, and it was something he was scared to delve into.

He slipped his fingers through the soft auburn hair, gently detangling the strands. He sat on the edge of the bed and slowly lifted Remy up from the pillows to ease him into a more relaxed position, but the whimper he heard had him slipping behind Remy and holding him close. He gently rocked the boy, and listened as the whimpers stopped and the restless movement ceased as well. He was deep asleep now, and Logan felt no need to move from his place behind Remy. His hands found their way into the auburn hair once more, gently petting and soothing.

"'S okay kid. I got ya."

-

He woke up with a choked scream on his lips. He shook with the residual upset that came with the nightmares. He didn't remember what it was exactly, but the bodies of those he loved had been piled up, and as he watched, they were burned. He ran a hand down his face, wiping sweat and sleep from his brow.

"You wanna talk 'bout it?"

Remy started, he'd forgotten that Logan had been waiting for him before he fell asleep. It took him a further minute to realize that Logan was holding him, and that he was practically in the man's lap. He burned with embarrassment, but he was still shaken from the dream.

"Non. After th' talk today with Xavier, ol' memories come hauntin' m' dreams." Remy shivered as the sweat dried on his body leaving him with cold pajamas and damp skin.

Logan sat behind him, gently rocking him as he softly sobbed. The images were fading, and even as his heartbeat slowed and his breathing evened, he felt safe and warm for the first time since Antarctica.

-

Hehehe….