"Fuckfuckfuck." Logan was surprised at Hank's break in his normal cool, collected self. They had moved away from Remy as they realized that he didn't want them near him. He had never seen Hank so frustrated.

"I don't know what to do." He finally admitted and Logan knew that it pained him to say that. " His mind is in turmoil, and I don't know how long it will take for him to recover even partially. If at all. We haven't even gone near the physical trauma. We were told he was raped, which would explain why he does not like to be touched. But she also mentioned that he had lots of scars which I have yet to be able to look at. I believe if I tried to perform a physical it would only push him further away from us."

Remy lay down on the bed and faced the wall.

"Logan, I need to give Remy a physical, see how much damage has been done, see where we need to go from here. I was given the medical records from the mental hospital…but there's so much in them…." He seemed to struggle with his disision. "I need to do it."

Hank pitched his voice low so Remy could not hear him. Hank and Logan were sitting on chairs they had brought into Remy's room, watching Remy's back as he stared at the wall.

"Do ya really think he's gonna let you do that?"

"Normally I would say no…but I think if I just get down to business and do it he won't fight me too much. I want you to be in the room in case something does happen however. He seems to have periods of submissive behavior, but at other times he seems to fight back. I cannot quite figure out what is going on in our young Acadian's mind."

Logan snorted. "You and me both."

"Remy?" Hank touched Remy's arm, rubbing through the sweatshirt. Remy didn't react to the voice but glanced at Hank when he touched him. The expressionless eyes made Hank briefly consider trying to get some antidepressants into him. But he also knew depression was only a side problem.

Remy maneuvered himself into a sitting position at Hank's asking. Hank glanced down at the file he had gotten from the hospital that he had only just gotten the chance to go through.

"May I see your hand?" Remy gave him his right hand.

"Whatcha wanna see his hand for?" Logan asked, from his place just off to the side of the bed. Neither thought it would be conducive to cooperative behavior to have them both in Remy's face.

"You remember that Remy is left handed? I was reading through the file and I realized I've only seen him use his right hand since he's been with us. Look," He said, gesturing "He hides his left hand in his sweatshirt pocket." Logan nodded in understanding, but he still didn't think it was a big deal. "Remy, can I see your other hand as well?" Remy bit his lip but he tentatively put his other hand in Hank's furry palm. Logan growled low in his chest and Remy ducked his head. It looked as though Remy's hand had been crushed, the fingers only able to partially open. Hank just sadly shook his head. "I don't even know if I could fix this surgically. It has been left to heal this way." The once delicate, graceful fingers were useless now. Remy's livelihood would forever be impaired, if not ruined entirely.

Hank checked the next thing in his chart. His brow furrowed, as though he didn't understand what was written.

"Let me help you that," He said, helping Remy to remove his sweatshirt. Remy shivered in only a tee-shirt. Both Logan and Hank saw the junkie-thin body of their teammate, the sharp angle of bones, and felt the anger that someone had done this to their friend.

Hank grasped his hands again, but this time he turned them over in his hands to look at what the file had indicated. Logan felt his stomach drop. The Wolverine thought for a moment that he might be sick and had to fight it back. The veins that stood out sharply against his wrist were overshadowed by the angry looking scar tissue that ran from his wrist to his elbow on both arms. This was not a cry for help; this was a sob for death. There were several scars, each deeper than the next, the scaring varying in age. Remy trembled violently when he looked at the scars, as if remembering. Whoever Remy had been with did not want him to die because death would have been a mercy. Hank grasped Remy's chin, forcing the downcast, elusive eyes to look into his own, tender with understanding.

"Remy. Do not ever be ashamed of what you do or have done. You are a stronger man than I could ever hope to be." Logan nodded in agreement but Remy refused to look at them.

"We need to get this off." Hank said as he started to remove Remy's shirt. Remy struggled against it for a moment but Hank overpowered him. Logan began to wonder just how much of this he would be able to take before he went feral. He felt the blood lust in his mind.

Remy's skin was covered in a network of webbed scars. Some were in uniformed groups of three or four and Logan felt a tingling sensation in his mind. The deepest, most brutal scars were on Remy's hips and shoulders. Some of his ribs looked as though they had been broken and healed badly. The bones protruded from the skin, so sharp that they gave a new meaning to the expression "skin and bones". He had absolutely no fat on his body and only wasted muscle. If it has been anyone else Logan would have thought the boy had a heroin addiction, but Remy was too smart for that. Hank just took it all in his calm doctorly way. There would be time enough to process this information later.

As soon as his hands touched Remy's jeans to remove then, Remy sprang away from him, hitting the headboard hard enough that his head snapped back. Logan stepped forward to help but Hank just waved him away.

"It's okay, it's not a big deal. We already know. His reaction proves that." Remy kept both of them within his weary sight. He looked ready to fight them, even in his weakened condition they knew he could do damage. Logan wondered why he hadn't tried to charge anything, to escape, but whoever had abused him this way had probably….discouraged that kind of behavior. They both moved across the room and sat back in their seats, purposely not watching Remy as he shakily put his clothes back on, watching them.

Logan wished, not for the first time, that he could comfort Remy, find out what had caused him this pain and rip its throat out. Remy was his friend after all, and nothing hurt him more that knowing the aguish of the boy's soul.

"I need to…" Logan gestured at the door, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Of course, go."

Logan felt the unmistakable panic that he had been afraid of when closed Remy's door and heard that cold voice.

"What are you doing in my brother's room, Logan?"

He turned and faced Ororo, her eyes blazing. He struggled to come up with a lie, but she was already pushing past him, reaching for the door.