As always, thanks to Cruel Illusion for beta.
o
o
Logan was vaguely aware of the moan even as it started, half his consciousness fixed on the room beside his even in sleep. His feet hit the floor at a run as it crescendoed into a hoarse scream. Two other doors were opening as he hit Remy's room at speed, ploughing through the door and letting it bounce off the wall.
The scream stopped suddenly as he entered the room, leaving his ears ringing slightly in the absence-of-noise that followed. Remy wasn't in the bed. He wasn't on the floor or in the bathroom or at the desk. Logan stopped, pushing the ringing aside to hear the harsh breathing that was on the edge of his senses. He scanned the room, letting his other senses join the search. His eyes alighted on the bed, found the source of the breathing there. But not in the bed - his eyes told him that much. He knelt on the carpeted floor, facing the bed. A glance up found Bobby and Hank stood in the doorway. He waved them away, sharing a glance with Hank that suggested he stay close. The door shut lightly behind them.
"Remy?"
"Th' curtains… please th' curtains." A soft plea, voice hoarse.
Shock ran through him as Logan realised that the curtains were indeed wide open, letting the early morning light stream in. He moved quickly to shut them before returning to his place at the side of the bed. This time he lay down on the floor so that he could see into the dusty space. It was impressive for a man of Remy's stature to have managed to get beneath the bed, let alone squeeze himself into the corner as he had. He sought out that red-on-black gaze, only to find it hidden beneath a bandaged palm.
"The curtains are closed, Remy. Are you… can you…?" The hand shifted tentatively. Red-on-black eyes met his, flickered away again, searching.
"I don'… Can' tell." Hesitant. Wanting to hope, but remembering the last time light had caused this much pain - that first night awake in Hank's lab. He straightened out so that he could slide out from under the bed, found heavy hands gripping his forearms to drag him out.
He sat back against the bed, gripping his forehead to try and force down the heavy throb that had begun.
"D'ya…"
"Hush." The quick hiss silenced Logan's question and he settled down beside him, shoulder to shoulder so that Remy knew he was still there. The room was bright enough despite the curtains that even without enhanced vision he would have been able to see. Logan focused on Remy's face, waiting for him to open his eyes again, waiting for the verdict. Alien eyes flickered open, squinting almost immediately and flinching against the small amount of light. He waited for his eyes to adjust. And waited.
"Well it's diff'ren', I suppose." He croaked, his voice betraying the pain he was feeling.
"What is?"
"Befo' I couldn' see shit. I still can', jus' now it's white, not black." He brought both hands up to press against his eyes.
"Maybe ya just need it ta be darker? We could go down ta the danger room and program a low-light sim.. Maybe stop by Hanks, get ya some painkillers?"
"Sorry, homme, y' mus' have work t' do… I can…"
"Got nothin'. Cyke won't have me in the danger room 'til this afternoon. Come on, get dressed, I'll take ya."
o
Hank listened to what Remy had to say with a serious face. When he had finished, he stood from his desk and pulled a folder off of a shelf.
"I'm calling a specialist, Remy. I don't have the expertise to cover this, and I have to admit to being out of my depth. I have an old friend who went into ophthalmology, he was astonishingly good at what he did back then, I can only imagine he has improved, he might be able to help."
"But…" A world of uncertainty in those eyes, the lights dimmed almost to nothing for his comfort.
"I'm going to be right there with you, Remy. I am not going to abandon you into another's care."
"You gonna bring him in here?" Logan's question - Remy still distant.
"I think it probably better if we go to his office, there may be tests that he can run there that might tell us more than he could find out here."
"What do I do 'til den?"
"Well, I agree that we must find out if it is simply the light that is hindering your vision now. But until we can find a solution to the issue I would suggest that we reapply the bandages to protect your eyes against the light. Since you are up and heading that way anyway, perhaps we should exercise your hands now also?"
"Sure." A sigh as Hank gathered what he needed and followed Remy and Logan out of the lab and towards the danger room.
o
They'd been all the way through the lighting options of the danger room, from pitch black - lighting in which only Remy would once have had an advantage in the infra-red that other bodies give off, but little else - through the very lowest amounts of light where Wolverine's eyes became the most impressive, and up into the more friendly lighting levels.
Nothing. Remy still had no vision to speak of, and now the light that was no use to him was causing him pain.
They'd barely reached emergency lighting levels when Remy called for them to stop. In a flash of inspiration, Hank asked Logan to change the wavelength - the colour - of the light. As they went up through the red intensity, Remy made no complaint about the brightness. Though it made everything a sickly red hue, at least he now had a way of lighting the room should he need to examine Remy's eyes in the future.
"Perhaps it was just like a mental shutdown - you couldn't handle the pain from the light and so it just disconnected your mind from it for a while." Hank suggested as they stood under the red lights and Logan watched from the control room.
"An' I'm handlin' it better now?" He asked the voice over his shoulder as he was handed a playing card. Taking the card between his left index and middle finger, Remy twisted it through his fingers slowly, hissing as he fumbled it and dropped it. Hank handed him another without comment.
"Perhaps it is beginning to retreat." Bending this one over his index finger between his thumb and middle finger he let it spring up into the air, catching it again without needing to see it. This one flowed through his fingers a little more comfortably, he held the twist around his little finger and brought it back to his index and thumb. Bringing it right into his finger tips he swore as he lost hold of it again.
"Y' sayin' an awful lotta 'per'aps', Henri." A sigh from behind him. He flexed his newly unwrapped right hand gently, feeling the skin pull taught and the joins ache as he waited for the next card.
"A fact that I am well aware of, Remy. But until I have more information, there is little else I can say." He threw this one straight up in the air and caught it gracefully, pulling it around into an arc and throwing it, full charge in place before it left his fingers. It exploded at a safe distance, and Remy rubbed at his left palm with his thumb. "Is it getting easier, or are you just getting better at hiding the pain?" Hank asked bluntly, handing over another card.
"Getting' real practised at chargin' up quick." Remy answered evasively.
"Hmm." Hank replied, watching as Remy went through simple card-play moves, dropping one every so often, but generally catching every throw, making every twist and turn through his fingers. He threw a few more charged cards, and a few weakly charged cards with his right.
"Gimme a half-pack?" He asked. Curious, Hank handed over the remainder of what was in his hand. Remy balanced the cards flat between the fingers on his right hand, grimacing as his hand began to shake at the pain of the stretched position. Rethinking, he used his thumb to balance the cards and used his left to spread them into a hand. A breath and he was in motion, cards flying in quick succession across the room. He paused, a card in his hand, uncharged.
"The Queen of Hearts." He said softly. Hank's hand dropped onto his shoulder.
"Remy…"
"Non." He answered the question before it was asked. "Y' tensed, I was waitin' fo' it." He laughed shortly, throwing the card uncharged and following with a second which hit it dead centre.
"Sometimes your skill impresses me. And sometimes I find myself wondering how much you keep hidden from us when you are pushed to use all that you have available to you."
"Hey Gumbo." Logan was in the doorway to the danger room, wearing a feral grin. "Ya remember this game?"
"Was jus' waitin' fo' y' t' 'member, ol' man."
"Ya remember the rules, then." He grinned ferally. "No pulling the charge. No moving from yer position. I won't make ya wear a blindfold, this time."
"Y' very kind." Remy smirked.
"Give us some room, Hank." Logan commanded, and Hank left with a nod, handing over the two packs of cards he had been carrying and heading to the control room. Logan handed over the cards, noting that even in one day some of the bruising on Remy's fingers had faded into yellows and greens.
"Dese pockets 're too deep." Remy grumbled as he tried to find places in his sweatpants to put the cards that he would be able to draw them from at will.
"Do ya still have a spare coat in yer locker?" Logan asked, watching as Remy dropped one of the packs, swearing as he stooped to gather them back up.
"Yeah, I t'ink so. Y' get it fo' me?"
"Sure, I'll be right back."
o
Resisting the urge to help Remy find all of the cards that were now scattered across the floor, Hank tried to busy himself on the readouts that were scattered across the screen in front of him. The computer had recognised Remy and was busy recording his vitals and the size of the charges he had created. He looked over the readings, noting that his right-handed charges were barely enough to cause a nasty shock, though his left appeared to be almost back at full charge. Hank tried to remember whether or not he was right handed and realised he didn't know. He opened the file while he was sat at the console, only partly aware of the beat that was slowly speeding up to a tremendous rate from the other side of the room. He looked up as it started to annoy him, realising only belatedly that it was a heart rate monitor and that Remy had frozen on his knees with his left hand balancing him, head bowed.
"Remy?" He called over the intercom. "Are you OK?"
The door slid open as Logan walked in. He took one look at the man on the floor before dropping the coat he was carrying and kneeling behind him, grabbing him by the shoulders and sitting him up. His heartbeat leveled out, and Hank watched, curious. He couldn't hear what was being said, but there was something so gentle about the way Logan was handling Remy, and with Remy accepting the comforting embrace so easily… He could have mistaken them for two completely different people.