This may seem a little OOC later...just fair warning :)

Spencer gave himself a couple days to relax and settle into his room. At least, that was the excuse he gave himself. He took three days in there, just relaxing, enjoying his visits, and easing his mind and body. In the few moments he was by himself, he drew little bits of electricity, starting some minor healing on himself. He worked on his left hand first, slowly knitting those bones back together, and on his ankle. The smaller healings were less painful than the large ones and were less stressful on his body. Now, after three days of these minor healings, he finally had the use of both hands once more and his ankle was whole again. He'd also started small healing inside of his knee. Nothing big yet but enough to start to speed that healing process along. He wanted to get it well enough that getting up with crutches would be a possibility. That was another reason he'd worked on his ankle and hands. He wanted his mobility back.

Leaving the Med Lab had definitely bolstered his spirits some. A tiny bit of the tension in his stomach had left him now that he was back in a regular room. But the nightmares remained. Each night they plagued him and each night, Scott was there, trying to soothe him back down. That brought up a wellspring of guilt that Spencer couldn't seem to shake. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right that Scott gave up his nights with Logan to come down and take care of him. That guilt ate at him, made worse by the memory of Warren's words down in the Med Lab. Damn the overgrown bird for saying that to him! Each day, Spencer swore he'd make it through the night fine; that he'd keep quiet if he woke up. And each night, he woke up to Scott holding him close, tears already pouring from his eyes, unable to let go of the only support he could rely on.

It was the morning after his third night in the room that Spencer finally forced himself to stop his mental 'hiding'. Scott was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth before getting ready to head out and start the day. Logan was supposed to come after a bit and sit with him, guaranteeing Spencer about an hour, at most, of privacy between the two. During that time, he was going to finally break down and do a little more healing on his leg. But first, there was something he wanted to do.

His good leg was curled up in front of him, his other one stretched out straight in its brace. Spencer sat forward, staring down at his hands in his lap, trying to make himself be much more courageous than he felt. "Hey, Scotty?" He called out. He was proud that his voice didn't shake at all, but the 'Scotty' would give him away as nervous.

The older man didn't step out of the bathroom, simply calling out a "Yeah?" that was obviously said around a mouthful of toothpaste.

Spencer bit his lip gently, finally able to do so now that the stitches there had dissolved. "Have, uh…have you, you know, heard anything from the, the team?" Wringing his fingers, he resolutely stared down, hating how cowardly he was feeling. "I was…I was wondering how they were doing. And, you know, if they'd…found anything." There, he got it out. Stuttered and stammered and sounded like a total fool, true, but it was out.

There was a pause between his question and Scott's answer. He heard the man rinse and spit in the sink before he appeared in the bathroom doorway. Scott leaned and propped his shoulder against the doorjamb. Everything about him screamed casual; even his emotions. Only because he knew him well did Spencer know that Scott was anything but casual. "I talked to Hotch yesterday." The older man told him. "They're all doing all right. They miss you. Garcia said she misses her Dr. Cutie coming to visit her and boggle her with mindless trivia no one else in the world would know."

He paused, smirking as Spencer blushed. Then, when the young doctor said nothing, Scott kept going.

"They've had the guy in and out of interrogation, but he says not a word. Literally, nothing. He doesn't talk, doesn't do anything but sit there. Jean's been begging the Professor to let her go and try to help. He may not talk, but his mind would say plenty. But the Professor says that what she wants to do is a form of mind-rape and that isn't something he can condone."

Spencer closed his eyes and gave a soft shudder; no matter who it was, that wasn't something he would wish on anyone. Ever. Mind-rape was even more violating than physical rape. He forced his throat to work past the dryness that seemed to have suddenly built. "So they…they have nothing, then?"

"All they have is the guy's fingerprints. They ran him through the system and came up with Stanley Ray Curtis. He's a thirty four year old New York native. Prior arrests for assault three times. Did a ten year stint for one of them. There's also burglary, vandalism and petty larceny on his record."

"So he knows the score. He won't speak out against whoever he's with." Spencer said softly. He held the hem of his shirt and twirled it around his fingers. "He knows what'll happen if he does."

Scott made an agreeable sound and said "Most likely."

"If he's a native, there's a chance that the others are too." A little shudder ran down him. I don't want to do this. I don't want to do this. I don't want to do this! "They all had the New York accent." And he could still hear it, haunting him every single night. It echoed around in his head now, brought to the forefront by his words. 'Fucking freak. We should just kill you now. You want that, you freak? Beg. Beg us to kill you.' Oh, God. Bile swirled around his stomach.

Scott watched the play of emotions on Spencer's face before the mask slipped down and he wanted nothing more than to go over there and hug him tightly until the images were gone. He wished he could chase away the pain that was so obviously lurking underneath the surface in Spencer's eyes. Even though both his siblings were adults, Scott never could get rid of the urge to take care of them; that feeling of responsibility. And there was something about Spencer…it was like Scott had told Remy. Spencer either inspired the urge to protect in people, or drew the crazies to him. One extreme or the other. There never seemed to be any middle ground.

Lost in his own thoughts, Spencer was unaware of the emotional turmoil in the other man. He was busy fighting his own emotions. Yet, he wasn't pushing the images away. No; he was trying to process them. To look at them and think like a profiler, not a terrified child. If the team had nothing and the person they had in custody was giving up nothing, then the only way to find out who the other three were and to catch them was inside of Spencer's mind.

"One of them…he was t-tall." Spencer fought to take the tremor out of his voice. Professional; he needed to sound professional. Calm. Collected. Maybe if he sounded like that, he might be able to convince himself he actually was. "I'd estimate around 6'6". He was built more toward the solid side, like Alex. Not quite as solid as Logan. Blond hair, blue eyes." A bitter little laugh slipped out, surprising even him. "What a stereotype. He was definitely the alpha male of the group. They all deferred to him. When he said stop, they stopped. When he spoke, they listened." And they had made sure he'd listened too. Spencer felt the hand in his hair, yanking his head up off the floor to force him to look at the man as he was ridiculed. Told how very, very wrong mutants were.

"One of the others was slender like me. He was about 5'9", I'd estimate. Blond hair, green eyes. Just a follower. An eager puppy doing what he was told, happily. The other, he had black hair, blue eyes." And this one had the tremble starting in Spencer's hands. This was the one that haunted him the most. A slightly hoarse edge crept into his words; words he worked so hard to try and keep analytical. "There was a scar on his left jawline, four inches long. There were scars all over his stomach, his chest, his back. He…he was the one to watch out for in the group." For a brief second Spencer closed his eyes to try and battle the nausea, but the image of the man's grinning face popped up and his eyes shot back open once more.

Calm, calm. He tried to tell himself. Calm down. You can do this. You have to do this! But there was a smaller voice, growing louder by the minute, screaming at him. No, no, no, no! I can't do it. Push it down, shove it away, don't think, don't feel, don't be.

Spencer didn't realize how tightly he was gripping the bottom of his shirt now. His whole body had gone tense. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't even hear the way his breathing started to hitch. He made himself keep talking. This had to be done so that they could catch the bastards. He had to think like a profiler, not like a victim. "He was a s-sexual sadist. Pain excited him. Most definitely he'll have rape and assault charges on his record. He's the type that doesn't have control. If not being watched by someone, he'd get too wrapped up in what he was doing and he'd be sloppy. He'd get caught, quick. He…he likes what he does. So much." Letting go of his shirt, Spencer wrapped his arms around his waist unconsciously. "They all did. They liked it and I, I could feel it, but I couldn't stop it. I couldn't do anything." The analytical slid away and the broken part of him reared its head. Spencer didn't even notice as he began to rock slightly, hands fisted in the sides of his shirt, arms tight around himself. "The drugs made my shields low enough that I could feel them. But I couldn't get enough energy to do anything. And they…they just kept hurting me. Over and over and over and I, dammit, I begged them to stop and they laughed at me. I don't want to think about this. I don't, I don't want to feel this anymore."

The absolute agony in Spencer's words was enough for Scott to break pose. Enough was enough. "Spence," Scott's voice was urgent. He hurried over to the bed and climbed on it. His arms went around Spencer, ignoring the instinctive flinch, and he pulled him close, cradling him against his chest. "Shh, that's enough, honey. That's enough for now."

Spencer turned and buried his face in the curve of Scott's neck, trying so hard not to give in to the tears that were burning the backs of his eyes. "Do I have something that just draws these people to me? Is there something about me that just screams that I'm an easy target?" Drawing in a deep breath, he stared at Scott's shirt, focusing on the strength he always felt from his brother. "I'm so tired, Scotty." And the words sounded just that—tired. "I'm so tired of hurting and being hurt and just…all of it. I'm just so damn tired."

"I know, honey. I know." There was nothing else Scott could say. He cradled Spencer closer and wished there was something he could do to make this right. Wishing that he wasn't so damn helpless.

Life around the mansion had been so strangely quiet lately. While everyone was enjoying this break in missions, it left them worrying as well. The X-Men were not used to inactivity. Because of that, tensions were running just slightly higher than normal. Bored X-Men were dangerous X-Men. Remy knew that very well and he also knew that, when people felt like this, they tended to take it out on the easiest target. Remy had absolutely no intention of becoming that target. With that in mind, he'd escaped to the kitchen to indulge himself by making a cup of cocoa that he intended to drink on the back porch while having a smoke.

Well, that had been his plan. Unfortunately, Warren, Rogue and Bobby had come in when he was only halfway done making his drink, and Bobby was the only cheerful one of the bunch. He bounded right over to grab himself a soda from the cupboard, grinning at Remy and saying a cheerful "Morning, Remy!"

"Bonjour, mon ami." Remy said back with a little smile. He stirred the chocolate in his pot, keeping a careful eye on it as he melted it. No packet cocoa for him; either it was real hot chocolate or nothing at all.

Annoyance was coming off of Rogue in waves. She and Remy were currently on one of the 'off' phases of their on-and-off relationship. At least this time he actually knew they weren't together at the moment. Lately, it was getting to where even he wasn't sure what they were at any given time. Dating? Not dating? He didn't always know. But this time, he did. They'd had a raging fight the previous morning about the amount of time he was spending with other people and not with her. Namely, Remy knew she was upset about the time he spent with Spencer.

He couldn't quite bring himself to care if that upset her. As he'd told her, she wasn't going to choose who he was friends with. There was something about Spencer that drew Remy to him. Spencer had only been here for two weeks now, but he and Remy seemed to have really hit it off. It was easy to talk to the man. And Remy was drawn to the pain that Spencer was in, emotionally. He ached to try and relieve that kind of pain; a kind he understood all too well. He knew what it felt like to be hurt simply for being different. He knew what it felt like to be forced to experience the emotions of the people that were hurting you. That was worse than the actual beating.

Then there was that conversation with Alex and Scott. The way they'd thanked him—and hadn't that been the biggest damn shock of his life!—Remy had a feeling that this wasn't the first time that Spencer had been hurt like this. He pieced together things he'd heard the three brothers say, adding it in with this newest conversation, and it all pointed to Spencer having definitely been hurt before. That only made Remy want to help him even more. He couldn't imagine someone wanting to hurt the man. Spencer was just so…so nice!

"Never mind him, Bobby. Apparently he's too good to talk to the lesser folks." Rogue's voice cut into Remy's musings and he drew his attention back to the three in the kitchen. Had Bobby been trying to talk to him? Remy wanted to flush when he realized that his thoughts of Spencer had consumed him so much that he'd apparently missed someone talking to him.

Automatically he turned and apologized. "Je suis désolé. Was y'all talking to Remy?"

"I was just asking what you were making." Bobby repeated himself. "It smells good."

"Merci. Remy's just making some homemade chocolat chaud. Hot chocolate." He translated himself when he saw Bobby's confusion. At the slightly eager look on the boy's face, Remy's smile softened a little and he mentally adjusted his measurements, already reaching for more chocolate. "Y' want a cup?"

"Yeah!" Bobby exclaimed. He took a seat at one of the bar stools, grinning widely. Despite their closeness in age, Remy couldn't help but think of Bobby as younger. Maybe they were close in years, but not in experience. There, Remy was like an old man in a younger man's body.

As Remy added more chocolate to his pot, he heard Warren say "I wouldn't trust anything that Gambit gave me, Bobby. You never know what he might have done to it."

"Let ol Gambit make a glass f' y', Ange. We'll see what gets put in it, den." Remy purred. He pushed down the hurt and let his face show a mask of amusement, one eyebrow quirking up over the top of his sunglasses.

Warren sneered at him. "I'd drink from a toilet before touching anything you prepared."

"Thought y' was a bird, not a chien."

"What did you just call me?" There was a rustling sound as Warren shook out his wings. Remy kept stirring his pot with one hand, but his other casually slipped near his pocket where his cards were kept. However, the winged-man just stood and glared, choosing his mouth as a weapon instead of his body. "They never should have let you back here. At the least, they should have left you in the boathouse! How you got them to agree to allow you back in the house, I shudder to guess."

"Been awfully buddy-buddy with Scott." Rogue said jeeringly.

Her disgust cut straight through Remy just like a knife. It didn't show on the outside. He refused to let it show. "Scotty is mon ami, cher. Y' know dat."

"Logan would gut ya anyways." Rogue put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Has he figured out that you keep trying to get into his mate's pants?"

Remy's mouth dropped open. "Quoi? Aint tried nothing like dat with Scotty!"

"Yeah, sure thing, sugar. Just like ya aint been cozying up with his younger brother, either. One Summers as good as the next, huh? Whoever ya can get it from!"

That had Warren's lips curling up in a smug sort of grin. "How appropriate. The two resident whores, bonding together."

As he spoke, the kitchen door opened. The voice from the doorway drew all eyes over there. "Jealous, Warren?" Spencer asked casually. His crutches clacked on the ground as he made his way into the kitchen slowly. The brace on his leg was different than the one he'd been wearing lately; Remy guessed this one was made more for movement. It strapped from ankle to the top of his thigh with Velcro over the front of his leg in three strips on the top and three on the bottom to hold the brace shut. On either side of his knee were metal joints that were locked into place so the leg couldn't be bent.

Despite the situation, Remy found himself smiling at seeing Spencer up and about. His hands were just a little steadier as he took his now melted chocolate and set about making his cocoa. "Bonjour, cher! Good to see y' finally up and about, yeah."

"It's good to finally be up and about." Spencer joked. He made his way toward the fridge. "It's nice to be able to get some movement, but I'd forgotten exactly how much of a pain crutches can be."

"Oui, dey can be. Never did like dem much, me."

Spencer was completely ignoring the others in the room in favor of looking for something to drink in the fridge and talking with Remy. His casual dismissal was annoying Warren more than anything else he could have done. That, of course, was why he was doing it. He snagged a bottle of juice from the fridge, setting it down on the counter before shutting the doors. He looked over his own sunglasses and winked at Remy. "There are just over 6.8 million community-resident Americans that use assistive devices to help them with mobility. About 6.1 million of them use mobility devices such as canes, crutches, and walkers. I high doubt a single one of them really likes their devices." He replied to the man's last comment. Then he paused, cocking his head to the side. "Though, there is something known as abasiophilia. Abasiophilia is a psychosexual attraction to people with impaired mobility, like those who use orthopedic appliances such as leg braces, orthopedic casts, or wheelchairs. The term was first used by John Money in 1990 in a paper he wrote on paraphilia."

Chuckling at the random bit of knowledge, and how easily it flowed from the young genius, Remy poured his mixture into two mugs. He reached over and handed one to Bobby, who smiled at him in an almost apologetic manner. Remy smiled back to try and let him know not to worry about it.

Rogue was the first one to have enough of being ignored. "That's Scott's juice you've got." She said to Spencer in a cold voice. "He doesn't let anyone touch it. He gets it special from some store in town."

"Really?" Spencer quirked an eyebrow. Leaning against the counter, he propped his crutches up and opened the drink, foregoing a glass and taking a drink straight from the bottle. He looked down at the bottle with a little smirk. "You know, he really hates when people drink straight from the bottle, too." He added.

Remy hid his laugh behind his mug, taking a sip before starting to clean up his mess. In his peripheral vision he watched Warren shake his head at Spencer before saying "That man treats you like a King and you just use him for your amusement and can't even bother to be grateful about it."

"I'll reiterate my earlier statement. Jealous, Warren?" Spencer took another deliberate drink off the juice before putting the lid back on and putting it back in the fridge.

"Of what? You?" Was the incredulous reply. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Maybe not me, per se."

"What, you think I want to be like you? You've got to be kidding me! Why the hell would I want to be like you?"

Just as Remy finished washing his dishes out, he saw Spencer grab his crutches, settling them under his armpits once more. He was smirking at Warren in a way that looked confident and amused—a look that Remy hadn't ever seen on Spencer's face—but it was only a look. Underneath it, Remy felt something else entirely. He felt the annoyance and disgust in the man, as well as enough self-loathing and hurt to have Remy wanting to wrap him up in a tight hug. Those emotions didn't color Spencer's reply at all. "Just calling it like I see it, Warren. We both know that jealousy has always been your problem, ever since you arrived at this school and realized that money didn't buy you a place of high standing here. But, oh, being a Summers? In your eyes, being a Summers was the ultimate. So you figured you'd bang Scott, but he wasn't interested in you."

Spencer had everyone's attention. All eyes were on him as he swung forward, putting himself right up by Warren. He didn't back down from the man as so many others did, but straightened up and smirked right in his face. Remy was gaping slightly at him. From what he'd seen and what he'd heard about Spencer, he never would've expected this kind of temper. He wouldn't have expected for him to stand up for himself like this. But something about Warren just seemed to set that temper off. For the first time, Remy was getting a glimpse at what it could be like when Spencer's temper took over and he did something that could be very dangerous—he profiled Warren.

"And that just drove you crazy, didn't it?" Spencer continued on in a low voice. "Not that you actually wanted him. Just that someone actually had the gall to not be interested in you when you wanted them to be. But, after a while, you settled in as his friend, semi-content with the close proximity to power. You insinuated yourself into his life and became the model best friend. You didn't bother trying with Alex when he showed up; you knew better. Alex is too strong, too confident. Just too much everything. He intimidates you whether you like to admit it or not. There's also the fact that he's the only straight Summers brother, so that would really dampen your plans. And as for me? Well," Pausing, Spencer smirked and Remy felt the pain flash inside the man. "We both know how that ended up, don't we?"

Warren's wings were quivering with his outrage. "You think you have it all figured out, do you?"

"It really wasn't that difficult." Spencer said dryly. "I could go on, even, but I'll save you the humiliation in front of this audience."

"And what about you in this whole mix? You think we haven't all figured out what you're about?"

"I'm sure you'll enlighten me shortly, no matter what I say, so continue on."

If anything, Spencer's dry tone seemed to provoke Warren further. This was the most furious Remy had seen the man with anyone but, well, with anyone but Remy. His wings kept quivering and his face was hard. Bobby had stopped drinking his cocoa to watch the two of them and even Rogue had stepped back, out of the line of fire, while still openly staring. Remy found that he couldn't move away from the sink. All he could do was watch.

Lips curling, Warren looked Spencer over from head to toe. "You really aren't that difficult. You're nothing special, Spencer. The street is full of whores like you. You're a nobody. That's exactly who you are. A nobody. Some pathetic little creature whose own father didn't even want him. You think you're big and bad because you have all those degrees and doctorates and joined the FBI? You think doing all that erases the street hustler you used to be? You seem to think that by adding doctor to your name, you'll be able to forget about the boy that sold himself on the street corners to make a quick buck. But you haven't changed. You're still the same damn person you were before. Worse, even."

"Warren…" Rogue spoke up in a voice gone soft. "Warren, enough."

Warren looked at her in surprise. "You'd defend him? He's nothing but a whore and a user."

"I am not a whore." There was a hard edge to Spencer's voice that hadn't been there before. His eyes were almost glowing slightly and his whole body seemed to have locked down tight. "And I sure as hell am not a user. You watch your mouth, Warren Worthington."

"Not a user?" A mocking laugh came from the other man. "Have you told anyone why you won't take the narcotics Hank prescribed for you? Or did you think people around here didn't know about your little love affair with Dilaudid?"

The glow in Spencer's eyes grew until they looked like they were crackling with energy. "Care to test how well your wings conduct electricity?"

"Are you threatening me?"

"Call me a whore one more time and you'll find out."

Almost in sync, Rogue and Remy hopped forward, placing themselves between the two. Remy put his hands up to Spencer while Rogue put her gloved hands on Warren's chest, backing him up. "That's enough, sugar." She drawled at the man. "Come on, clear out. That's enough. Let's go."

At the same time, Remy was making sure he stayed in front of Spencer, giving Rogue time to get Warren out of the room. "Let it go, cher. He aint worth dat kind of trouble. Don't y' let him get to y'."

It took a long second, but Spencer finally shuddered and drew his eyes away from the door where Warren had just left. "I know." Sighing, Spencer visibly gathered himself. Remy could feel the other man taking control of his emotions, even if by just a thread. Feeling how thin that control was had Remy wincing in sympathy. He put one hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Y' wanna step outside with me, cher? Was gonna drink m' chocolat chaud and have m' morning smoke."

A corner of Spencer's mouth quirked in a brittle smile. "I'd absolutely love it."

Silently, the two made their way from the kitchen and out to the back porch. The sunshine was shining down, taking away some of the morning chill. Still, Remy led them to a sunny patch of the porch where there were long patio chairs. He didn't bother asking Spencer if he needed help getting into one. Something told him that pride would demand Spencer say no. So he gave the man no choice and, after setting his cup on the table between the chairs, Remy took Spencer's crutches for him and then offered an arm to help him get seated. Once Spencer was sitting, Remy backed off, letting the man adjust his own legs into the chair.

Remy sat in his own chair, stretching his legs out and leaning back. He lit a cigarette, taking the first drag and sighing. Lazily he blew smoke rings above him. Beside him, he felt Spencer's emotions as the man was trying to bring them all back under control. Remy had no problems being silent for as long as was needed. In a subtle support, he let his own calm fill him, not projecting it out but simply surrounding himself with it, knowing that Spencer would feel it and it would most likely help.

He was halfway through his cigarette when Spencer finally spoke. "How long do you give it before the whole mansion hears about that little interlude?" The genius said wryly.

Taking another drag, Remy looked over toward the trees, grateful he had his sunglasses on. "Bobby was in dere. So, an hour, mebbe?"

A soft snicker slid from Spencer. The silence fell around them again and it was nice; peaceful. There was no pressure for conversation or anything like that. It surprised Remy, how easily he sat here with Spencer. How easily they seemed to mesh together sometimes. He didn't feel like he always had to put a front on around him. He didn't have to be on his guard as he did with some, or putting on a mask as he did with others. Spencer didn't expect him to constantly talk or make him feel like he had to play a part. There was just something about the other man that let Remy feel like he could just be Remy around him, no one else. And that he would be accepted for who he was.

When Spencer spoke again, it didn't seem forced or strained, but almost right. He was lying back in his chair, one arm folded behind his head, the other stretched over his lap. With his sunglasses on, it was impossible to tell if his eyes were open or closed. Everything about him just seemed so relaxed. "When I was just a few days old, the Colonel adopted me out to mother's cousins, the Reids. My biological mom, she died while giving birth to me and, to this day, the Colonel can't look at me without hating me for it."

Where this was going, Rem wasn't entirely sure. But he said nothing. He had a feeling that this wasn't something that Spencer talked about, with anyone. He wasn't going to interrupt him. Not to mention, he definitely had Remy's interest peaked.

"I grew up thinking of Diana as Mom. That woman brought me into her home, her heart, and made me feel like I was really her son. Despite the fact that her cousin had died to give birth to me, she never resented me for it. Ever. But William…he had me call him Dad out loud, but in my mind he was always William. He hated me. I don't know if it's just because of who he is, or something inside of him, or something that the Colonel said to him, but William hates me. And, until he walked out on us when I was ten, he beat me almost every day so that I'd know how much he hated me."

It took everything Remy had not to start cursing out loud. He flicked and exploded his cigarette butt and then wrapped his hands around his mug to try and keep them from clenching into fists. And still he listened.

"I'm not telling you for sympathy or pity. I'm telling you so you'll understand the rest, and because pretty much everyone here knows that part anyways. For all I know, you've already heard it. From what I heard, Scott's temper was pretty impressive when he found out what was going on. But that wasn't until years afterwards .William, he left when I was ten. That's another thing that's known around here. He left me with my mother, who was sick and couldn't take care of us, though nobody knew it at the time."

Remy set his cup down and grabbed his pack of cigarettes. As he lit one, he felt a small hint of longing in Spencer and didn't hesitate to hold out the lit smoke. The man took it, a corner of his mouth curling. Remy didn't know just how much of a shock it was for Spencer to take that cigarette. He had no idea just what hell the kid usually gave a person for smoking, or that Spencer hadn't had a cigarette since he was seventeen.

Only when they were both smoking did Spencer continue to talk. "I told Scott that Mom was doing fine and we were okay and I made sure to not have him over to visit anymore. I always went to him. When Mom couldn't even remember to bathe anymore without thinking someone was going to drown her, I knew she couldn't work. I knew she wouldn't be able to get us money. I ended up making money the only way I could find. I tried odd jobs, but no one wants to hire an eleven year old."

Remy couldn't take it anymore. Putting his cigarette in his left hand, he reached his right one out to clasp Spencer's. "Y' don't gotta say no more, cher. Y' don't gotta do dis. Y' don't owe no one an explanation."

"I know." Surprisingly, Spencer smiled. He lightly squeezed Remy's hand. "But a part of me wants you to understand. I didn't do the things I did just for fun. Granted, it still wasn't right. But it was what I did to pay bills."

"Remy aint got no room to judge y', mon ami. Done some t'ings in m' life too dat I aint exactly proud of." Remy said the last bit softly. This time Spencer was squeezing his hand in support, giving Remy the strength to say "De empathy, de charm, it got away sometimes before Remy could control it and it just…after a while, y' figure dat it might as well be on y'r terms. Gets de money f' food, anyways. And when y'r starving, dat's de most important t'ing."

"That it is." Spencer agreed. He took another drag off his cigarette, his other hand still linked with Remy's. "If I'm going to do this, I might as well be totally honest. The rest of what Warren said…he was right."

Remy turned his head to look over at him. "Quoi?"

"The Dilaudid. I was addicted to Dilaudid." Spencer said the words as if they were nothing, but his hand gave a soft twitch. "I've been clean three years now. The team and I were on a case in Georgia back then and I was kidnapped by our Unsub. He held me for two days and drugged me during that time. When I got free, the habit stuck for a while. But I kicked it. And now, I expressly do not take narcotics."

The amount of information that poured from this man had Remy only able to lie there and stare. He felt like Spencer had opened up and let him see a part of his soul and it left Remy feeling slightly humbled. There was much more to this man than met the eye.

Spencer must have read the emotions coming from Remy. He turned, smiling in a soft sort of way. "Apparently I'm in a confession type of mood today. First with Scott and then here with you." He said lightly. "Now you know the stories everyone here knows, only with the details about me that no one else but Scott, Alex, and Logan here know."

"Merci f' trusting me." It was all Remy could think of to say. Yet, it seemed enough. Spencer smiled and nodded and the two men turned their heads to stare off towards the trees ones more, smoking in silence.

After a moment, the corner of Remy's mouth quirked. "Want to know some t'ings about me dat no one else knows?" His little smile and the hint of humor in his words worked to start to lighten the mood.

"Absolutely." Spencer said. His lips were already starting to curve.

"If I aint careful, I snort when I laugh real hard at something." He drawled out. Slanting a look over at Spencer, he added. "Also, I got a degree in business and one in art history, and a master of fine arts degree in painting. Now y' know some t'ings bout me dat no one else here knows. Not even m' Stormy." The confessions were nowhere near as serious as Spencer's had been. But he'd said them mostly to show trust and to make the man smile.

Chuckling, Spencer flicked his ash. "Merci for trusting me." He repeated Remy's earlier words.

Remy grinned and relaxed back in his chair. It was shaping up to be a fine morning. Lying in the sun, a cigarette in one hand, his other still tangled with Spencer's, Remy had never really felt happier or more content.

And here is where I really start to earn that "Soap Opera" title LOL. Hope you liked this! Keep up the love, people. You're making me feel so wonderful!

IntoTheWilds: Using writing to vent is one of the greatest things. I have a few fics on my computer that haven't seen the light of day that are just...dark. They help me feel better. I totally understand where you're coming from there :) As for the rest-you can have Warren, once Spencer's done with him. He's standing up for himself! Yay him! You made me laugh out loud when you said you almost ate your laptop, though. I can honestly say my writing has never inspired someone to eat their laptop before. :D Go me!

DeputyDog: I'm glad Spencer's in his room, too. Makes it easier for him to start to associate with others now :)

4: Aw, glad you thought it was lovely. I've always thought that 'lovely' is a real sweet compliment. Yeah, they haven't known one another long, and they are comfortable. I hope that seems believable to everyone! :/ The story with Warren I promise will come out later, so don't worry about that! Just, not right away. :D

readaddict123: Glad to make you laugh! That's a great compliment. You know, I kind of want to add in a scene somewhere with them playing cards, just for fun. Or, I was thinking about finding a spot in the story and adding in a 'poker night' scene. Spencer, Remy, the brothers, Logan, maybe some others. It would show Spencer's interactions with others as well as have some great potential for fun. I just worry when I get to writing group scenes because I worry I don't do a good job lol

Hissy: HEY! Nice to see you :) Don't worry about your lack of sign in, you always put a signature lol. Glad to see you here and glad you're liking the story so far! Nice to know I hooked you in ;) I hope you continue to enjoy it. And I really like the idea of Cajun therapy there, lol. Spencer will get some. But, I want some too! Sigh, if only I could pull Remy out for myself.

Andromeda Hayes: Yay for smiles and giggles! I giggled as I proofread through it. This chapter wasn't anywhere near as fun. It was more, emotional. Hope you liked it!