Title: Three of a Kind, Chapter 9
Series: Three of a Kind
Author: X-Tricks
Feedback: That's why this story keeps on going. Keep
the feed back coming! Eoen and Lu can archive (should
they wish), everyone else - please not right now as
this is a WIP.
Fandom: X-men, movieverse
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Summary: Aftermath and enemies

Chapter 9

" - watch de claws!" Remy was yelling as Charles
wheeled into the lab. He blinked, the thief was stark
naked, lightly blood spattered and struggling along
with Ororo to keep Logan from thrashing off an exam
table while Hank attempted to clear the man's airway.
Logan heaved, claws snicking free and waving randomly
around. He wasn't conscious and the chaos in his mind
was enough to give Charles an immediate headache.
Never the less the telepath reached out with his mind,
forcing his way into Logan's nightmarish mindscape.
Straining to gain control, he broke through the
feedback loop of images - blood spattered vivisection
scenes, a puppy with its throat cut and other
memories, all equally bad - to force Logan into true
unconsciousness. The stocky Canadian abruptly slumped
down onto the table, finally quiet.

Hank spared a quick glance of gratitude as he cleared
Logan's mouth - he'd vomited - and made sure he could
breathe freely.

"Where's the boy?" Charles asked urgently. "And I'll
need to talk to whoever saw what happened."

"Treatment room." Hank said.

Remy looked up, squinting in the fluorescent lights.
His hands were spread protectively across Logan's
stomach and he looked torn between following the
professor or remaining with Logan. "Professuer?"

"It's alright, Remy. Please - stay with Logan."

The thief nodded unhappily but remained where he was.
Charles turned to the indicated treatment room,
wondering where Remy had gotten the cigarette dangling
out of his mouth. The man had no clothes, where had
it come from? Shaking his head, he pushed open the
door and wheeled in.

The boy was curled in a corner, rocking back and forth
and weeping hoarsely. There was a rough bandage on
one arm, leaking blood down to drip off the point of
his elbow. Paul's mind remained resistant but Charles
didn't need his telepathy to see how terrified he was.
There'd been no one to comfort him, Scott and Jean
were on vacation and Logan's condition had demanded
immediate attention. Charles had been delayed by the
neccesity to deal with the frightened children
upstairs.

"Paul." Charles said.

"Don't - d - don't touch me!" Paul cried, scrambling
further back. His red and black eyes were wide and
panic stricken. Squinting, he thew an arm up to
shelter his face. "Don't touch me! Stay away!"

Charles' heart ached. How many times had he heard
that cry from a young mutant? Marie. Jean. Robert.
He held out his hands. "Paul - its alright. Come
here. No one is angry with you. You won't hurt me."

Paul hesitated a moment longer, searching his face,
then threw himself at Charles to bury his face against
his legs and burst into fresh tears. Charles flinched
violently, the impact of the boy's emotions was like a
blow. Paul wailed and pulled away, Charles managed
to snag a hand before he'd gotten out of reach.

"N - no, Paul!" His voice shaking with an adrenaline
rush triggered by Paul's fear, Charles drew the boy
back. "It's alright. It's alright. You're not doing
me any harm - shh - it's going to be alright."

"I can't m-make it stop!" Paul sobbed. "Please -
he's not gonna die is he? I - didn't do anything!
Really! He's gotta be alright! I don't know what
happened. I don't -"

Paul was lying, he knew it and so his guilt - along
with all the flavors of fear, uncertainly and a
startlingly powerful emotional punch - were
transmitted to Charles. The telepath struggled to
temper the flow of emotions - discovering that his
telepathic shields and the skills he'd learned over
decades of mental combat were only minimally
effective. Still, he finally managed to find his
voice. "Paul. Please - try to calm down a little.
Logan will - survive. He always has."

"I couldn't make it stop! I - was so scared. I tried
- to run away and he c-chased me. I couldn't breathe!
I didn't hurt him - didn't mean to hurt him!"

That was the truth, at least. Charles stroked the
boy's fine black hair as tears damped his wool slacks.
"I know. Listen to me now, Paul. You need to calm
down. I - can't help you unless you calm down a
little."

Which was true. His heat was pounding, his breathing
speeding up, in response to a fear not his own. His
heart jumped and stuttered abruptly and Charles was
briefly afraid he was picking a terrible time to have
a heart attack, then he realized that his heartbeat
was synchronizing with Paul's. That was more
frightening than anything else so far. He gasped for
breath until his pounding heart settled into it's new
rhythm. Paul was staring up at him with a striken
expression and Charles managed to dig up a weak smile.

The professor had invaded hundreds of minds, searched
through the darkest of memories, coaxed intimate
secrets from the minds of politicians and generals but
he had never truly *felt* the emotions of another
person before. Paul's fear, his guilt, anger - a
host of feelings unfiltered by his conscious mind -
were pouring through his touch and swamping Charles'
thoughts. There was no structure, no control, none of
the framework that the professor was used to
manipulating when he telepathically contacted another
mind. He didn't know how to defend himself against
Paul's hysteria - he had to get the boy calmed down,
for both their sakes.

"Paul - breathe - slow down." Charles leaned to
whisper in Paul's ear, coaxing him through a simple
breathing exercise and sighing gratefully as the boy
listened and began to quiet down. "It's alright. No
one is going to - punish you. No one is angry."

The spike of fear/relief/guilt that Charles sensed
told him that he'd put his finger on one of Paul's
concerns. He shook his head sadly, looking down at
the head on his lap.

"I'm g-getting snot all over your clothes." Paul
stuttered. He made to pull away but Charles held him
close.

"You're not the first." Charles said softly. How
many youngsters had taken refuge on his useless legs?
Scott, weeping in terror as he struggled with the
realization that he might be spending the rest of his
life in self imposed blindness. Jean, fighting her
gift and her nightmare memories of the insane asylum
Charles had rescued her from. Earlier still, Eric - a
young man, not a child, and in the years before the
injury that had taken Charles' legs - weeping for the
parents, the life and the hope that had died in the
camps in Poland. "Don't concern yourself, Paul."

He gave Paul some time to catch his breath, petting
his head, hoping the boy was finding the touch as
soothing as he was. Paul huddled closer, kneeling on
the floor and Charles' hand slipped below his collar,
idly stroking along nape of the boy's neck. The
frailty reminded Charles of Eric.

"I didn't do anything wrong." Paul began to whisper,
voice trembling. "Logan attacked me. I - didn't mean
to hurt anyone. I didn't do anything. You have to
believe me. Professor - Charles - believe me. It
wasn't my fault."

Charles believed him. Even as he felt the rising
guilt in Paul. Even as he knew - logically - that
Paul had done *something*, Charles found it impossible
not to believe him. And he knew it was Paul's doing -
that unshakable, illogical belief. Like Remy, Paul
could compel emotional responses with his voice but
unlike Remy, he wasn't yet experienced enough to hide
his manipulations effectively.

"Paul." He said gently, pulling his hand out of
Paul's shirt. "Stop. I know you're attempting to
manipulate me. I've already told you - no one is
going to hurt you. You don't need to try to - compel
me."

Paul lifted his head to look at him, his tear streaked
face was very young. "I'm scared."

"I know. But you don't have to be."

"It was my fault."

Charles smiled down at him reassuringly. He brushed a
lock of hair off Paul's forehead, knowing that his
reassurance would transmit to the boy's sensitive mind
though his touch. Paul's unhappiness and renewed fear
echoed back to him. "I find that hard to believe -
and not due to your emotional manipulations, young
man. You are struggling with a - gift - and accidents
are part of that struggle. Sometimes even - dramatic
- accidents."

Paul shook his head impatiently, determined now to
take all the blame. "Not just that. It's my fault
that Logan - attacked me."

"Only Logan is responsible for his own behavior."

Paul gave him a sour look. "You're saying that? I
know you can fuck around with people's minds."

Charles looked speculatively at Paul. "Were you
attempting to compel him? Logan reacts - poorly - to
any kind of mental coercion. Coercion of any sort,
actually."

Paul dropped his gaze and fiddled with the seam on
Charles' pants. "N - no. Not then. Its - its my
fault because -"

Paul broke off and Charles watched him blush - and
felt the accompanying embarrassment and a faint
desire. It was absolutely fascinating, very
disconserting and he hoped fervently that Paul would
eventually be able to control this new aspect of his
empathy.

"- because why?" Charles prompted.

"Because when they - they fucked me that time." Paul
shrugged and Charles felt the spurt of jealousy and
hunger. "After that, they started fucking each other.
And now - Remy loves Logan. Logan blames me. I know
it."

"Blames you for Remy's love? And felt that you
deserved to die for it?" Charles shook his head.
"That' a little far fetched, Paul."

"Hey - look, I didn't say it made sense. Logan's a
fucked up bastard." Paul said angrily. Charles had
to bite his lip to keep from smiling at the adolescent
intensity to Paul's anger. Those unique eyes lifted
his, outraged, as Paul sensed his amusement. "I felt
it! When he grabbed me - he blames me for -
everything."

Charles sighed. He couldn't disagree, particularly
with Logan unconscious in the next room and unable to
explain his actions. "You're correct, Logan is -
extremely stressed by any kind of emotional conflict
but I find it difficult to follow the logic, even
Logan's logic, in this."

Paul shrugged obstinately. "He's all screwed up over
- me. Fucking me and still wanting me and you all
telling him he's some kind of pervert."

"We never told him that."

"That's what he thinks."

"I sincerely hope not."

Paul shrugged. "Whatever. But I know what I felt.
His friends hate him. No one trusts him. And Remy -
all of that happened after I came. It's my fault."

Charles could only shake his head and hope that Paul
was wrong. "I think we'll have to wait on Logan's
explanation until he recovers and can explain them
himself."

"He's - going to get better, right?" Paul's voice
dropped, renewed anxiety and guilt flowing into
Charles' mind. It took a moment for Charles to gather
his thoughts enough to answer trufully rather than
just say anything to reassure the boy clinging to his
knees.

"Hank is an excellent doctor and Logan is -essentially
unkillable. But I would like to know what happened to
bring him to his current state."

Paul looked away.

"It might help him."

"I don't know!"

"Something is happening right now." Charles said
softly. "I can feel your emotions - as if I too were
an empath."

Paul looked up at him confused. "But - you read
minds."

"Yes. Not emotions. Thoughts. Objective thoughts
and memories, already processed by the intellect.
Neither I nor Jean can sense emotions. Of all the
mutants I have met, only you and Remy have that gift.
It's startlingly rare. But now - in contact with you
- I'm sharing your feelings."

Paul pulled back and Charles let him, seeking a little
relief himself. As soon as they lost physical
contact, Paul's emotions were cut off.

"Remarkable." Charles leaned forward and brushed his
fingertips over Paul's hand. The brief contact gave
him an equally brief sense of Paul's emotions. "Has
this ever happened before?"

"Nope." Paul crossed his legs and stared at the
floor. "It's - new. I don't know - know what's
happening to me!"

"Tell me what you can - when this started. With
Logan?"

Paul dropped his head. "I guess. I've been feeling -
different - for a while."

"Yes?"

Paul took a deep breath. "Marie's been moping around
for a while because she thought she couldn't get
laid."

"Yes?"

He went redder. "It bugged me - I mean, y'know there
are all kinds of ways to fuck. And - and I wanted to
get laid so bad. No one - even Remy won't do it with
me anymore 'cause he doesn't want to piss Logan off."

Charles managed to make some encouraging noise.

"And she was up in the attic crying and I went up and
we - um - had sex y'know?" Paul glanced uneasily up
at Charles. "But I was afraid she was gonna back out
- we were kissing and stuff but, she doesn't much like
me. No one does. I - wanted her so bad. I just -
wanted her to want me back - want me like I did her."

"So you made her want you?"

"Nope." Paul shook his head hesitantly. "Couldn't
talk just then - doing other things - I - like - went
outside, made things work backwards. Made her feel
what I was feeling. Want. It was - it was pretty
weird. And - then there was this touch thing."

"That's not terribly - descriptive."

"I don't know what to call it!" Paul snapped. "Call
any of this shit! Feeling all different inside - and
just going inside Logan's mind and - and hitting the
scared button! And making Marie come just from a
touch! I thought maybe that the way it was when you
fucked girls but - it was the same thing with Logan.
Except different!"

"It sounds like things are changing for you." Charles
said calmly. "Perhaps your gifts are - maturing."

I - god - am I gonna get more freaky? More mutant?"

"I'm afraid I don't have an answer for that." Charles
smiled gently at Paul's terrified expression. "But -
whatever happens, we will all help you. And we will
discover the answers together."

**********************************

Jubilee was following him again and he didn't like the
meanness behind it. Paul hunched his shoulders and
walked a little faster towards Logan's room, dishes
rattling on the tray he was carrying.

He juggled the tray and managed to get the door open
and slip inside. He sensed Jubes taking a position
outside and rolled his eyes. Maybe Remy would let him
stay for a while this time.

The Cajun thief was sitting cross-legged in a patch of
morning sunlight, glasses pushed up into his lose
hair, with Logan's head resting on his thigh. The
Canadian was staring hard at Paul, lip lifted in
warning until he caught his scent, then he relaxed
again, dropping into a light doze. It was almost all
he'd been doing since Paul had - fucked his mind up.

"I brought some food." Paul muttered, avoiding Remy's
eyes and feeling unpleasantly ill with guilt. He sat
on the floor and pushed the tray towards the two of
them. Whatever new fucked up thing was happening to
him had mostly faded away again but Paul was still
avoiding touching anyone, just in case. It was making
him crazy, he wanted someone - anyone - to touch him
and the only one who dared was the professor. And he
was an old guy and couldn't get it up. Remy picked up
the coffee and sighed.

"Merci." Remy said softly. He was running his hands
through Logan's hair, almost like he was petting a
dog. Logan rubbed his face against Remy's jeans with
a pleased rumble.

"Can I - stay awhile?" Paul asked. "I won't touch
him - or - or anything. I promise."

Remy gave him a hard look. The thief was exhausted
and exasperated. "Tol you, no one angry at you. Remy
not angry at you - but he's getting tired of you being
so guilty all de time."

"You don't have Jubes following you everywhere looking
for a good time to knife you." Paul said sourly. "I
just wanna wait 'till classes start and she goes away
again."

"De girl's upset. Logan and she are close and now de
man growl at her."

"Yeah."

Logan had pulled a plate close and was crunching his
way through some raw vegetables. Remy pulled his own
plate aside before Logan got hold of it and decided
that the spicy sausage and the wheat-free pancakes
were not food and threw them at the door. That was
his usual way of rejecting food, right now.

All Logan would eat was either raw vegetables and
fruit or raw meat. He hadn't spoken a word since he'd
woken up - and that was more than a week ago. Feral.
That's what Scott called it, when Logan had snapped
and snarled at Jubilation, growling like an animal and
dragging a pile of sheets and blankets into a corner
of his room to sleep on. Everyone reassured Paul that
they'd seen this before and that Logan would be fine.
This was normal - for him. But as the days passed,
and nothing changed, everyone was getting steadily
more worried.

Logan only tolerated Remy, Scott, Jean, Marie and -
surprisingly - Paul. Everyone else, he growled at.
Paul knew it scared people but he also knew that the
reason Logan acted like that was because he was
scared. He knew that like he knew that, right now,
Logan was content. He had people he cared about
nearby, food, sun. It was pretty much all that Logan
seemed to want. He had a pair of jeans on today and
it looked like Remy had managed to get him washed.
The first few days, even that hadn't been possible so
maybe he *was* getting better.

Remy slurped his coffee and sighed. "T'anks, Paul."

"'Kay." Paul watched Logan sniff disdainfully at
Remy's coffee and go back to his apples. He felt sick
with guilt, watching him and terrified that Logan was
going to be like this always. "Remy - ?"

"Oui?"

"What - what if he never gets better?"

Remy sighed and looked down at Logan, brushing his
fingers across the man's heavily bearded face. No one
was willing to try and get a sharp blade near the
Canadian so his beard was growing out, thick and dark.
"Den he never gets better. We go on. W'at else to
do, eh?"

Logan responded to Remy's touch, sitting up and
leaning close to the thief. Paul could feel the wash
of affection and desire and Remy shivered, blinking
back tears as Logan nuzzled him and nipped his chin.
The Cajun was miserable, aching with desire and love
and grief.

"I'm sorry."

"Enough wid dat!"

"You know it *is* my fault!" Paul snapped.
"Whatever's wrong with him - I did! Fucked him up
inside - made him feel all those - those things he'd
forgotten!"

"An if you didn't do dat Logan might have killed you!"
Remy hissed. "You t'ink he would want dat? An you
t'ink anyone blame you for defending yourself!"

"They should!" Paul cried. "You should!"

"Eh? Should I?" Remy turned his face from Logan's,
unable to hold back the tears he'd been suppressing
for days. "Should I, when I - Remy - know dat de
moment Logan comes back to himself he's gonna push me
out de door and never - never touch me again? Remy
love - love him so much. Want him so much and makes
Remy sick dat he's grateful de man's mind is hiding!
Remy swear - he never say de word again. He swear it,
if only Logan come back and not turn away from him.
But - he will. Remy know it."

The thief glanced at Paul. "You know it. You know
how de man feels now. Love. Affection. Good t'ings.
No anger, no - fighting himself. None of dat - just
comfortable in his skin."

Paul nodded. It was true. He'd never felt Logan so -
content. Happy, really. Other times, when he was
what everyone else called normal, there was always
anger underneath everything Logan did. Anger and
fear. But now - this feral thing - Logan was happy.
And he was happy with Remy.

"I'm sorry." Paul whispered helplessly. "I'm sorry."

Logan snarled sharply and reached out to clamp his
hand over Paul's mouth. Paul froze. It was the first
time Logan had touched him. He was afraid but when
Logan leaned close - it was desire he was getting from
the man. Logan's grip gentled and he nosed at Paul's
neck. Paul shivered. He wanted Logan to - just like
Remy, he wanted Logan so bad. And - Paul's breathing
quickened and his cock stiffened - he could have him.
Logan wasn't feeling guilty now, wasn't thinking Paul
was a kid. He just wanted - and smelled Paul's desire
and growled softly, nudging Paul's head back so he
could suck in his racing pulse.

Paul traced the muscles defining Logan's arms, sliding
his fingers through dense chest hair to stroke
hardening nipples. Logan licked him and Paul
whimpered and dragged the man's mouth up for a kiss.
God, it was so good. So good - better than what he
remembered. Logan bit his lip and Paul tasted his own
blood. Remy's attention was hard and cold and Paul
whimpered again, wanting him to be hot and eager.
"Remy - !"

The thief reached out and tugged on Logan's shoulder,
pulling the man back gently. Logan looked confused,
glancing at them both, sniffing - scenting the heat
between the three of them and eager to answer it.

"You not want to be treated like a chile - you got to
not act like one." Remy was staring hard at Paul
blinked at him, swaying forward, towards the two of
them.

"W-what?"

"T'ink, damn you!" Remy hissed. "Don just *feel*!
If Logan do come back to us - how he gonne feel eh?
Remembering fucking you again - when he don want to do
it? How he gonna feel - he don know how to say no,
Paul. Not like dis. He only know what he smell and
touch and taste. But when he come back, he's gonna
remember an w'at you t'ink he's gonna feel den?"

"You're fucking him!" Paul accused.

"Oui - Remy fucking him." The thief hissed. "But we
were fucking before an his probelms wid me ain't de
same as yours. And - when de man come back, Remy
gonna have to face de choices he made. Remy ain't
telling you w'at to do Paul - you ain't a chile but
you better t'ink before you fuck dis time. Remy know
how easy it is to jus feel and he know how much
trouble dat brings. You an me - we're de same. Remy
jus don want to see you de same screwed up as he is!"

"It's not fucking fair!"

Remy sniffed angrily, trying to soothe Logan, who was
increasingly upset by the argument. "Life ain't fair,
cher. It ain't fair to Remy, it ain't fair to you, it
ain't fair to any of us."

Paul glared resentfully at Logan and Remy. He
*wanted* so bad. He knew just how good it would feel,
Logan riding him, and how easy it would be. But he
remembered the library and how angry Logan had been -
like the man had hated him. He couldn't stand that.
Logan hating him - or Remy.

"When the hell am I gonna get mine?"

Remy stared wearily at him, looking startlingly old.
"How de hell should I know, cher? Maybe never. Maybe
tomorrow. You just gonna have to see, jus like
everyone else. When Remy gonna get his - or is dis
it? Dis moment? Dis chance? Dis - loving a man dat
can't love him back. Getting my touch in when de
man's mind is fucked up because it's de only time I
can?"

Paul shivered at the depth of Remy's misery and
desperation. He offered all that he had. "He - he
loves you, Remy. I - felt it when he was - trying to
kill me. That's why he was so - freaked out. He
loves you - he just don't know what to do, that's
all. I'm stronger than you - I feel more. I'm not
lying.

Remy closed his eyes. "Don know if dat makes it
better or worse, cher. But - Remy t'ank you."

"I'm sorry."

"We all sorry, cher. We all sorry."

Paul collected the empty dishes and left, the pull of
Logan's desire like a hook in his gut. Logan growled
behind him and Paul felt the two of them - touching
each other and shutting him out. He was careless.

"You -!" The split second of anger and hate wasn't
enough of a warning as Jubilee's hand slammed into his
back and shoved him hard off the landing of the
stairs.

"No!" The dishes went everywhere as Paul windmilled
at the edge of the staircase. His balance went and he
twisted frantically, catching a crazy glimpse of Jubes
sprinting down the hallway, away from him.

Paul slammed into the wall, a glass picture frame
shattered, his hand hit the edge of a tread and he
used that instant of contact - dragged up the lessons
Logan had driven into him and used the momentum of
Jube's shove to twist up - over - and down. Paul
staggered, panting catching his balance and balanced
delicately on the sloping two inch wide banister. It
had taken less than a minute and the hallway was still
clear though Paul could hear Jean calling his name and
running to the stairwell. Paul hurriedly hopped off
the banister and began to pick up the shattered
dishes.

"Paul!" Jean peered up at him. "Paul, are you
alright? What happened?"

Paul glanced down the hallway where Jubilee had
disappeared. "Nothing. I was stupid and tripped."

TBC