Remy held up the call box Hank had left with him, studying the key pad for the millionth time in the last hour. He wasn't sure exactly what time it was, but he knew it was late. Most of the mansion's residents would probably be asleep.

He should be asleep too. He was tired enough and Remy certainly hurt enough to want to sleep for the next twenty years. Yet every time he closed his eyes all that he did was stare at the inside of his eyelids.

"Jus' dial da number already." Remy scolded himself, "If der's no answer, den bien, you put da phone down and go to sleep."

Remy nodded, and started to dial only to stop half way through the six digit code. "Merde, you coward!"

Remy cursed himself as he dropped his hands to his sides and looked up at ceiling. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn't he make a simple phone call? "Cause it not simple dat why."

"Den again, notin ever been simple for dis Cajun." Remy said to himself as he lifted the box once more. This time he punched in all of the numbers and waited as the speaker on the boxed beeped to let him know the line was ringing.

Remy counted four beeps before a deep gravelly voice answered, "What?"

Remy suddenly forgot what he was going to say as he blinked at the call box, surprised that he'd actually got answer. That was until a low growl vibrated the device in his hand, "Logan mon ami?"

"Cajun?" Logan's voice changed, instead of annoyance there was nothing but concern. "You okay, is something matter?"

Remy smirked, sorely tempted to ask the other man what possibly could be the matter. But instead of flippancy he merely said, "I need to talk to you mon ami. Could ya come down?"

"Course kid." Logan answered without hesitation. "Do you want me to grab one of the others too?"

"Non," Remy shook his head even though no one could see him. "Jus' want to talk to you, d'accord?"

"Yeah okay, I'll be there in a minute."

"Merci Logan." Remy listened as the line went dead on the other end and sighed. He sat the call box aside. The hardest part of his plan was done, now he just needed to wait for Logan.

--X-X-X--

The serious tone in Remy's voice worried Logan and, while he walked, he didn't waste time getting down to the med lab. He pressed the button to the kids room and went directly to the kid's bedside the minute the door opened. Again he asked, "You okay?"

Remy shook his head as he looked up at the dark haired, dark eyed man and swallowed. He'd been wrong, the phone call wasn't the hardest part. "I wanted to ask you a favor, one that I can't ask anyone else."

Logan felt his stomach drop. All traces of the bayou where gone from Remy's voice; his tone was quite and thoughtful. The accent was part of the kid's charm, and quite and thoughtful would never two words associated with the Ragin' Cajun. There was only one reason Remy would talk this way. He wanted to make sure there would be no excuse for misunderstanding.

Which meant whatever Remy wanted to ask, Logan probably didn't want to hear. Still Logan found himself nodding, "You can ask me anything Rem, you know that."

Remy lips turned into a half smile, he and Logan had had their differences in the past but it didn't stop the older man from being his friend. Perhaps one of the only true friends the Cajun thief ever had, which made what he was about to do as equally difficult as it was simple. "I want you…"

Remy paused with a shake of his head, as he tried to find a better way to ask his question. "If I'm going to be paralyzed, I need your help."

Logan could feel his heart stop; he knew that Remy wasn't asking about building a ramp up to their local bar. Still this was something that shouldn't be left up to interpretation. Swallowing hard Logan met the boy's red on black eyes; hoping to God he was wrong about this. "Help to do what exactly Rem?"

"To end it," Remy said unflinchingly as he watched the man above him. "I want you to help me end this miserable life."

The world tilted violently on its axis, treating to throw Logan off his feet. He reached out and grabbed the rail of Remy's hospital bed to keep himself upright. With his head bowed he stared at his knuckles as they turned white from lack of blood flow, while the Cajun's words beat against his skull like the Juggernaut on a rampage.

"Why me?"

Logan didn't realize he'd asked the question aloud until Remy's lilting voice flowed around him again. "Because you're the only one that understands; you know what this means for me. And if you do it then it will be clean, quick so there isn't more pain than necessary. I don't want pain Logan, and you can make sure of it."

"Damn it kid!" Logan growled out his curse as he spun away from the bed. He couldn't look at Remy, couldn't look at the kid's tear wet trusting eyes. He started to pace the small room like a caged animal as his mind rushed back to another place and time.

The grass fields below Mt. Fuji where red with the blood of the fallen as losing battle raged not far away. Logan knelt, his own numerous injuries adding to the blood and gore around him. Though it made little of an impression on him, his healing factor was already working to repair the damage as he carefully held a wounded friend.

Removing the samurai's helmet and face mask Logan assessed Rikuto's condition. The man's left arm was obviously broken, and a deep gash ran over the opposite hip and thigh, all of which might be healed with the proper care. But it was the defeat that shown out in the man's dark brown eyes that made him realize his friend would not leave the field alive.

The battle is lost dear friend.Rikuto's words were hauntingly clam through the chaos that surrounded them.

There will be another. Logan's Japanese was rough with his growling accent as he replied, hoping against knowledge that it was true.

Rikuto and his clan had known before taking the field their forces had little to no chance against the obsession. Still Bushido, the code of the warrior by which they lived, would not allow for anything less of them than to fight, no matter how hopeless. Honor until death, it was more than words to Rikuto; it was truly a way of being.

Whether Logan agreed or not with the samurai, he could respect the strength of other man's beliefs. Even that though, made Rikuto's next words painful to hear. For you my friend yes, for me... Take my sword Logan, and grant me your strength one last time.

Logan bowed his head, he could not look at his friend because then the man would see the tears he was fighting not to shed. The importance of being asked as a second was not lost on Logan, and though it pained him to do so he could not refuse Rikuto. He could not dishonor his friend's strength and commitment with his own weaknesses.

Logan did not speak; his throat was too tight to allow the act even if he tried, as he nodded his acceptance and helped the samurai into a kneeling position. Rikuto held his katana out to him with his good arm. This blade will serve you now, my friend. May you master it better than I.

Logan took the offering with the reverence it deserved, bowing to his friend one last time before standing. He watched his friend closely as he unsheathed his tanto and brought it almost lovingly to his abdomen. Logan's downward swing was timed with Rikuto's plunging dagger, insuring the samurai's passing from this world was as swift as possible.

Whether the memory was true or one of the many that had been planted in his head, it still had the power to leave Logan shaking as it ended. He stopped pacing and ran his hands through his dark unruly hair, fingers trying to push away the pain, loss, and frustration that fill his head. "God damn it kid."

Logan cursed again but it held less venom then before; and though it wasn't exactly consent to Remy's request, it was certainly not a refusal. He closed his eyes, turning his head away from his friend, surprised that the realization made his chest hurt. He should be pleased, after all this is what he'd wanted wasn't it?

Remy bit the corner of his lip to keep his tears from falling again, mumbling thanks he didn't feel. "Merci mon ami."

"Don't." Logan said as he lifted his head and glared over at the hospital bed. Seeing the back of Remy's head his mix of emotions burned together to a comforting anger.

His hands closed over Remy's shoulders before he realized he'd moved, as Logan forced the Cajun to turn his head and look at him. He wanted desperately to shake some sense into the kid, but as much as his rage rode him, the calmer part of his mind reminded him that his friend was hurt. So he settled instead for digging his fingers into the boy's thick muscles.

Remy flinched trying to move his right shoulder out of Logan's grip as the man growled down at him. "I don't want your god damn thanks Cajun. I don't want anything to do with this fucked up idea of yours."

Remy stopped flinching, the pain in his shoulder mild compared to the shock and confusion of seeing tears barely restrained in Wolverine's blue eyes. "You're... you're not going to..."

Remy stammered, again not a common thing for a boy with the gift of gap, and yet it helped Logan reign in most of his anger. The kid was scared, in pain, and confused; he knew that. But he also knew that deep down the Cajun was a fighter, and all he really had to do now was remind the kid of that.

Logan shook his head, easing off his grip and backing up slightly from the edge of the bed. "I didn't say I wouldn't help Gumbo, I just got a condition before I officially agree."

"What kind o' condition homme?" Remy's red eyes flashed with suspicion as his accent came back.

Logan took both as a good sign. If the boy was set on his plan he wouldn't have anything to lose would he? "First you need to talk to Hank."

"Talked to Henri, you where der."

"Yeah I was." Logan nodded, "Heard him say there were more tests he needed to run before he would know for sure whether this was a permanent thing or not."

"You talk to Hank, and let him run his tests, all of his tests. If when he's done, they say you're never going to walk again then I'll do what you asked." He'd do it but Logan would be damned if he would say it.

He wasn't about to test fate by saying the words out loud. Superstitious for a man with no faith? Maybe, but Logan would worry about that later; right now he had more important things on his plate.

"Course those tests are going to have to prove to me there is no chance that you'll ever recover. I only do it if you're completely paralyzed and there is absolutely no chance that you'll walk again."

"Everyone don' get a healin' fac'der mon ami." Remy's tone was annoyed, and it made Logan smile.

Annoyed was good, anything better then the self-pity that had been there when the idiot asked Logan to kill him. Besides, "You might be surprised kid, talk to Hank."

Remy frowned at Logan's cryptic comment, still he couldn't stop the stirring of hope in his gut as he met and held his friend's gaze. "This pretty long odds mon ami, non?"

"Long odds, for high stakes." Logan confirmed with a smirk. "What's the matter Cajun thought you liked to gamble?"

Remy's eyes flashed again, this time with his first honest grin since waking up and hearing the news about his legs. "Remy know no beder kin' o' game M'suir. Maybe I don' fold before de res' o' da hand dealt, oui?"

"Sounds damn good to me Rem. And you have my word I'll be there whatever the cards say." Logan assured Remy, patting the kid on the shoulder where he was sure his fingers had left burses. "Until then Gumbo it's late and you need to get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning okay?"

Remy nodded to his friend. Watching him until older man's hand was on the door before calling out to him. "Logan?"

Logan turned back to frown at the boy. "Yeah?"

"Merci." Relief was clear in Remy's voice as he smiled.

"You're welcome Rem." Logan returned the Cajun's smile with one of his own then watched as the younger man closed his eyes and turned his head toward the wall with a sigh. "Goodnight kid."