Hitsuni and Diamysue- Here is your update :) Enjoy!
BJ2- I fear that I always wait JUST LONG ENOUGH that you always end up having to reread my story. I'm sorry? Or thank you for rereading it multiple times! Anyway, I tried to update it so maybe you remember everything you just reread still ;) I imagine that Hank is pretty free with the hugs, especially when there is an angst-ridden Remy to comfort! And is your happy dance anything like the Dance of Joy that Numfar does? 'Cause that's what I'm imagining and it's pretty hilarious.
HellzCrusader- thank-you! Have an update for your compliment!
Hellysion- -_- You are on my naughty list. Don't ruin my surprises! I mean it! You may be partially getting what you want...but I didn't do it 'cause you guessed...I did it 'cause I had already written it. But for the record, I have never abandoned any of my stories and I never plan on doing so. It make take me a few years to update, but gosh darn it, I will update! And here you go, and thank you!
CaptMacKenzie- I do love a good angst fest (surprisingly hard to find angst I like on this site...I tend to have to search for it on other sites). I am not a psych major, I am a history education major...'cause, you know...they're similar? But I'm a headcase so I suppose that has something to do with it.
Triolet- I fixed my two misuses of their/there especially for you! I worked for an English teacher so you'd think I'd pay attention to that but I was more focused on getting my thoughts down. I don't imagine that this story will be moving particularly quickly, so no worries there.
Itachi is Kickass- glad you approve :)
Wonga- Here is the update, don't be too demanding...well, okay, be demanding, but be prepared to bribe me ;) But if you drool on my nice shirt I will banish you!
so there was a bit of...discussion about the slashy nature of the fic, so here's my stance: if slash is a believable, natural outcome, then there will be slash, but I won't change the natures of the characters just for the sake of romance. If it has to be forced for slash to occur, than there will be no slash. Mmmkay?
Logan woke up with a start trying to figure out what had intruded into his sleep so suddenly. He heard it again. A thumping noise, followed by a few smothered giggles. A glance out the window told him all he needed to know. He closed his eyes again, willing himself to go back to sleep. It was a Saturday morning. That meant that the adults were sleeping and any and all children were currently sneaking around the wings of the mansion (mainly HIS wing of the mansion) trying to get themselves into trouble. The window was at a perfect angle, the sun light pooled everywhere but the bed. He could have slept for hours. He was so drained for some reason, worn out.
His eye flashed open. Shit. Those damn kids were going to be a boatload of trouble for him at this rate. His feet quietly padded across the floorboards and he yanked his door open. Three heads snapped over to look at a very pissed off Wolverine standing in his doorway clad only in a ratty pair of sweatpants glaring at them, teeth bared. They scampered down the hall and down the stairs. He heard a flurry of whispers break out as they drifted towards another wing, and thus, another activity other than actively fraying his last worn nerve.
Logan listened for any commotion coming from Remy's room. He heard soft breathing and every few moments a snore that rattled the window panes. Last night they had decided that Hank would sleep in Remy's room and then they would alternate so neither man became too worn out. Hank had seemed pleased when Logan had returned to the room, Remy sleeping curled up on top of the covers like an extremely large cat. Hank would sleep in the recliner that was shoved in the corner of the room, almost as if it had been put there as an afterthought. It was large, but Logan still did not envy Hank trying to maneuver his bulk into a comfortable position. Hank brushed off Logan's brusk concern. They had both dealt with worse. Hank was just thankful that at least Remy, at some point, wore out and would sleep, allowing him to process the day's activities and catch a few winks himself.
Logan decided to grab breakfast while things were calm. Maybe they'd be able to shove some food into the younger man this morning. That was one of Logan's main concerns, that Remy was just too emaciated and too unused to food that he wouldn't be able to handle it at all. He didn't know how they would deal with that. They couldn't exactly hide him in the med lab.
"Hi, Wolvie!" Jubilee quipped at him as she picked all of the marshmallows out of the box of Lucky Charms.
"Hey, Jubes. 'Nough sugar there?"
"There's never enough sugar." She informed him mock-solemnly. "Scott could sure use a bowl full. Tight ass" She muttered to herself as Scott entered the kitchen, but Logan heard her and grinned. Apparently Jubilee was still arguing to be put on the team as a full member and Cyclops continued to deny her the opportunity. Logan thought she deserved a chance but she was old enough to argue this one on her own. If she wanted his backup she would ask him.
Scott stopped short, and to Logan's confusion and amusement, turned bright red, looked between him and Jubilee, then backed out of the room. This was unsettling as Scott was normally the most unflappable member of the team.
"What was that about?" Jubilee asked her foster-father, just as confused as he was.
"No clue. Can't be good though."
Jubilee sidled up to him as she made her way towards the door and Saturday morning anime cartoons. She gave him an awkward, one armed hug, holding her bowl in her other hand.
"Love you, Wolvie!"
"Love ya too kid." He shook his head as she left. She was an odd one. She fit right in with their oddball family.
He made toast and filled a plastic bag with peanut butter and jam. He thought about what sorts of things Remy would be able to eat. He grabbed a few apples and threw them in. When the toast popped up (more toasted then it probably should be, he would admit. But heaven help anyone else who said that.) he piled it on a plate and headed back upstairs. He noticed that Scott stood and watched him retreat before going into the kitchen. He rolled his eyes. Sometimes this house was just too fucking weird for explanation.
When he pushed open the door to Remy's room, trying to balance everything, he noticed that both men were completely out of it. He briefly wondered if those kids had been snooping around, had maybe seen them...but no, he shook that thought away. He didn't smell their scents near the door, or even this side of the hall. No one knew who shouldn't know, he had to content himself with that.
A loud snort and Hank woke himself up. He sighed. "Was I terribly loud?" he asked Logan softly, embarrassed.
"Yeah, you were, but it don't look like Gumbo minded." He gestured towards the still sleeping man who was oblivious to their conversations. Hank sighed.
"That is probably because he is exhausted. He woke up several times last night, nightmares I suppose, but it's hard to tell when he will not talk to us." He told the other man, frustration evident in his voice. He sighed again. "I just wonder if we are doing the right thing. If we can even help him." He showed Logan the shoebox and watched his face become contemplative as he looked through the pictures. "We never even noticed him taking these, did we Logan? Tell me, was he ever a part of this family as much as we...in hindsight, wish he were? Are we the right people for this job?"
"We can't pretend like we did everything right, Hank. But neither did he. You can't place this blame all on your shoulders, we all share it. Did he ever open himself up fully into being a member of this family? No. Did we ever give him a reason to think that he could find his family here? Not substantially. Maybe a stolen moment here and there, but nothing definite. We're going to do this," Logan told him firmly. "We're going to do the best that we can. Because it's all we have to give him."
Hank seemed to draw strength from Logan's certainty. "You are right Logan. We are the right people for this job because we are the people here." They both looked at the sleeping man.
"Should we wake him up?" Hank asked.
"Well, I brought food. That toast is probably cardboard by now, but I'm sure we'll manage. Think we'll get anything into him?"
"We'll just have to see, wont we?" Hank walked over to Remy. He had barely touched the younger man before he threw himself off the bed in the other direction. He cowered on the floor, curled up, arm posed upward to fend off an oncoming blow. Hank hurried over to his side of the bed and sat back on his haunches. "Remy, are you alright?" There was no answer. After a moment;"Would you like some food?" The arm lowered and Hank found himself staring, yet again into those exotic eyes, those eyes that demanded something from him, something in his soul wanted to be released but he didn't know what. Remy didn't move. A piece of toast that looked like it had been cooked in a fire pit appeared over Hank's shoulder, covered in peanut butter. Remy stared at it, hunger evident, not only in his eyes but in the growling of his stomach. When it became clear that Remy was not going to make any movement towards the food, Logan gave a low growl and stepped around Hank and mimicked the other man's movement, coming up eye level to the weary man.
"Take it. I'm not feeding you like a kid." Painfully slowly a bony hand came up and took the offered food, he held it and continued to watch the two other men until they got up and made themselves busy getting their own food. By the time they began to eat Remy had already finished. Within a few moments he was curled up on the bed. When Logan made a move to go over to him Hank shook his head and pulled him back.
"He needs to adjust to eating again. And if I remember correctly, food may have been a tool for punishment. We need to give him space. If you rush over to him you will just overwhelm him and I doubt he will be able to keep what little he ate down."
"I know you say that Hank, but it seems like we should be doing something more."
"He'll work his way back up to eating regularly when he feels safe. He's not going to drop dead Logan. He's malnourished and very much underweight but he's not going to die on us."
"If you say so." He muttered. He wasn't used to sitting by while a teammate was in trouble.
They ate in silence, watching Remy out of the corner of their eyes. He was staring at them. Analyzing. It was disconcerting to have a gaze that was very much present coming from a man who seemed to fluctuate between what was real and what he had constructed.
I feel sick, like I've swallowed lead. I watch my hallucination of Hank and Logan (do they really think I can't see them watching me?) and I'm amazed, yet again, about how real, how solid, how here they look. It's strange. Even though they look very real, sound real, I still feel like I am the only real person in this room. I'm the only real person in this whole world and the world is my mind and that is all that matters, that's what I tell myself. He can do whatever he wants to my body, but my mind is safe. My mind has found the closest thing to home I can remember. I think now that I finally have stopped falling back and forth between my fantasy and the real world my fantasy is taking on details, fleshing out into something substantial. Do I care? Not really. I can make it be whatever I want here.
I feel a twinge of pain when I try to move my fingers on my left hand and I mentally frown. If this is my fantasy, shouldn't I be whole again? I would think so, but seeing as how I don't exactly make up fantasy worlds all the time, I don't really know what to expect.
I see that shoe box poking out from the other side of the recliner. Those damn photos. I want to see them, see the familiar faces and feel that familiar lonely melancholy ache that I feel whenever I see those pictures. X-Men gatherings, Christmas, stolen moments between family. Moments I was never a part of. Did I ever let myself become a part of them? I never felt like I was welcome, not by everyone at least. It was best to remain unnoticed. Then when I came back to my room I could pretend like I had been there, had experienced the moment, even if I know the truth, even if the photos didn't show the distance clearly.
I shudder when I think about what He's doing to me right now. Is he leaving me alone? Is he even in the room with me? Is he raping me? Cutting me? Scarring me? Is Sinister putting stitches in, repairing the damage he inflicts when he tears into me, letting his animal instincts loose?
I don't care, I decide. Gambit must be taking care of it, Gambit must be out there. But I know it's a lie. I feel a shiver of cold down my neck. He's here with me. Suddenly, I become scared and curl into myself tighter. Did Sinister create this? Is this just a game? A plan to bring down my guard? To try and break me completely?
"Remy, you okay?" Logan asks me and he pets my hair back from my face. My eyes open and I look into his baby-blues and I don't see any malice in them, any trick, but that doesn't mean anything. I tense. If this is a game a want it to end now. I nod. If I am okay there is no way he will let this go on. I expect a shift of scenery, for the room that has become my jail cell to reappear, but it doesn't. The image just nods and retreats from my vision. I don't know how to take this. I close my eyes and try to sleep again. I've never gotten this much sleep in the whole time I've been with Him. I can only hope I lose myself in it.
"Good, you're awake." The red diamond in the middle of his forehead is the first thing that I see. I wish I hadn't. I wish I hadn't left my fantasy. I wish I hadn't gone to sleep.
"Tell me, Gambit. Where did you run off to? If you tell me, you will not be punished." Lie "But our friend is looking for you. He is most displeased. And he will find you. And he will punish you. Do you think that he has given you even a partial measure of what he can give to you? Oh no," Sinister chuckles as though he's amused by my antics, like I am a child. He pretends. He feels nothing, but sometimes the mood strikes him where he will pretend to feel something, compassion, empathy, caring. But he feels nothing and he cannot pretend good enough to fool me. "He will rip you apart, tear his cock into you and make you bleed for your sins. He will turn you inside out. If you do not tell me where you are so that I can protect you." His face twists into something ugly and full of anger as wakefulness tugs me back. I feel him trying to keep my mind tied to him but I'm pulling away too fast.
Something casts a shadow over me and I jerk myself upright until I see that it is merely the image of Storm. I want to cry. I am exhausted and frustrated and I just want to be left alone. She opens her mouth to say something to be but I merely turn my back and feign sleep. I hear her let out a breath of disappointment.