PEACE

Remy LeBeau sneezed again.
He looked down at his book, tried to ignore the annoying
pressure in his sinuses...
And sneezed again.
With a startled curse, the threw the now-glowing book from his
lap, and launched himself to the side just as a blast of abused plaster
landed on his head.
He landed in the strong arms of the mutant known as Wolverine,
who steadied him, setting the Cajun back on his feet. "Ya better talk to
Hank, Gumbo." he rumbled, as Remy gave another violent sneeze. "I don't
much like the idea of wakin' up fallin' through the library."
"Non. Remy fine." the younger mutant said, waving a hand in
dismissal of that idea.
"Uh-huh." Logan lifted a bushy eyebrow and claimed the other
chair, settling into it with easy grace.
As he had many times in that last weeks, Remy watched the
Canadian out of the corner of his eye.
Compact, muscular, and powerful, the Wolverine was a capable
fighter, good leader when needed, and oddly enough, one of the few
people that seemed to understand the weary Cajun.
Picking up a book, Logan settled back, dropping his heels on
the desk in front of him and opening the cover, setting down his beer on
the small end-table next to the chair.
Curious, Remy glanced at the cover - and his fire-on-shadow
eyes widened.
Le Morte D'Arthur. In Middle English.
Remy fought down a slightly delerious giggle. Logan? Reading
classical literature.
Now know I have fever. he thought to himself, plucking a book
at random from the shelves.
They read in companionable silence, punctuated by Remy's
occasional sneeze and Logan taking a sip of beer.
Despite his best efforts, Remy's eyes began to droop as he read
Shakespeare, and sometime after Hamlet's tragic encounter with his
father's ghost, he fell asleep.

Logan watched the young man sleep fitfully, aware of the
aimless movements, the stiffness of his posture.
Then, as if a dam burst, Remy began to cry out in Acadian,
voice horse and terrified, body thrashing, until finally he scrambled
underneath the heavy old dest, pulling his long legs up to his chest,
eyes wild with panic.
"Non, non! Ne me laissez pas, se vous plait! J'ai peur, se vous
plait, il est si froid..."
Logan was next to the shaking thief in a moment, and crouched
down to see the panic in his eyes.
"It's okay, Gumbo." he said, heart aching for the terrible
aloneness - not simply lonliness, being outside of something, but
aloneness, being cast out and rejected.
And he knew the feeling well. All too well.
"Non. Non, se vous plait...non non..." whispered agony, burning
with icy memory.
Finally, Logan crawled in the cavernous space beneath the desk
and gathered Remy into his lap, holding the trembling Cajun against him,
smoothing his hair, offering comfort, solace - simple warmth.
Remy burrowed against that craved warmth, tears spilling onto
the warm flannel of the older mutant's shirt, as Logan rocked him
gently, offering more than understanding.
Empathy. Understanding.
Warmth.
Finally, Remy sank back down into a fitful sleep, and Logan
held him, keeping the demons that plauged the younger man's sleep at
bay.

Sometime before the sun rose, Logan eased his sleeping
team-mate out of the dark space and carried him up to Remy's room,
somehow got the door open, and the young man out of his ever-present
trenchcoat.
Suppressing a curse at the lost weight and paleness of Remy's
skin, Logan tucked him into bed, gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, and
left quietly, hoping the Cajun would be all right for the night.

Remy woke to the last trail of sunlight tracking over his legs.
He had slept all day, according to the clock, a feat he had
thought impossible.
Then he remembered - Logan, holding him.
Empathizing, not trying to use words to simplify or minimize
the horrible ordeal, just understanding. Offering warmth, compassion.
Eyes open, staring at the cieling, he remembered how warm, how
solid, how real Logan had been.
The light touch of his hand, sparking something deep within
him.
A place walled off, inside his bruised and battered heart,
wanting at some point to wake up, to cling to the sturdy Canadian, to
never let go...
Remy's eyes flew wide.
Where dat come from? he thought to himself, turning on his side
and curling into a ball.
Logan would gut him if he...what?
If I what?
Tossing and turning, Remy finally realized the coldness of his
room was keeping him awake.
His first thought was too fuzzy and ill-defined to make sense
of, so he considered sneaking into Ororo's room, sleeping near the old
rosebush that's smell was so reassuring.
Ororo was exausted after their last tangle with with the
so-called "Friends of Humanity", and nursing a broken shoulder. She
wouldn't turn him away, but Remy didn't want to chance disturbing her
sleep.
The unfocused thought tried, once again, to form, and Remy
pushed it aside.
Then he thought of Rogue, but she didn't like anyone near her
when she slept. Part of it was a deep fear of her powers hurting
someone, the other part was a strong need for privacy.
The indistinct, unfocused thought finally rose stubbornly, and
refused to go away, coming into blinding focus in one, shattering,
uplifting instant.

Logan heard his door open, smelled the salt-ache-need of tears,
didn't open his eyes. He kept his breathing steady and even as the bed
dipped under another weight, then he rolled, pinning the very startled
Remy LeBeau beneath his heavier body.
"What the hell ya doin' here, Remy?" he demanded, more startled
than he wanted to admit. The kid was quiet as a cat.
Wide-eyed, the younger mutant started to look away, but Logan
caught his chin and made him look into his eyes, saw the fear, smelled
the hesitance.
"Remy - he never been...held like you hold him." managed the
Cajun, voice uncharacteristically shy. "Not since...since...it hurt, mon
ami. Remy not afraid of you, like he is the others."
Logan cocked his head, considering this.
"You honest with Remy. You...feel with m'." he whispered, and
tears began to flow down the young man's cheeks despite his best
efforts. "You only friend Remy have. Not mean to wake you...jus'...so
cold, oui?"
"C'mere, kid." Logan tugged the Acadian gently so he rested on
his muscular shoulder, and tucked the covers back around them both. "I
unnerstand." And he did, dammit, he did. "Go ta sleep, I'll wake ya if
ya start t' have a nightmare."
"You...be here when Remy wake up?" A little awed, shocked that
voice. As if the idea of someone caring enough to hold him while he
slept was a concept he had never considered.
"Yeah."
Remy nestled closer, hearing the reassuring thump-thump-thump
of Logan's heart.
He closed his eyes.
The last thought was wistful, almost unformed.
Could it ever be...my heart?
Then he slept, and Logan held him.
It was quiet, soft, and there were no nightmares of snow and
pain and hurting for Remy LeBeau...or Logan.
In one another, they had found peace.
 

Insanity is great fun! Never let the voices tell you different.