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.