Westchester:

On the morning of the fifth day after Remy's unwelcome return from Antarctica, Professor X woke and performed his routine scan of the Mansion. He frowned when he could not locate Remy, first in his room, then anywhere in the Mansion or on the premises. Briefly he checked the night logs, confirming that nothing suspicious had transpired during the night. Knowing that Jean was awake, he reached out. <<Jean.>>

<<Yes Professor?>>

<<Remy's gone. Did he say anything about leaving?>>

<<No... But I'm not surprised. Staying here must've been like living in a wolf's den. God... I wish it hadn't happened like this. Remy didn't deserve this.>>

<<No, he didn't. Not that that ever seems to matter.>>

Xavier was saddened by Remy's departure. In all his days working with mutants, Remy had been one of his greatest, if relatively unexplored challenges. The young man was so stubborn, so defensive, and so distrustful that he had never been able to get through to him; though he recognized that other demands on his time prevented him from dedicated the necessary attention to the Cajun. And he wanted to - not just because he wanted to help mutants but because, inexplicably, he knew that the Cajun harbored great hidden potential. He was stronger and skilled than he let on, and by failing to integrate him into the X-men, Xavier had done all mutants a disfavor.

But he didn't rest too long on the loss, for it does little good to ponder each defeat when fighting a losing war. Defeats came by the bushel, and were a result of the nature of the fight, not the failures of the fighters. And maybe this was a blessing in disguise; after all, while not Remy's fault really, the hostility provoked by the young man had been poisoning the team. He took a trip to Cerebro, though he didn't expect to be able to locate Remy, as the Cajun's mental walls had always hid and protected his mind well. Resigned and having his expectations were confirmed, he went to tell the others.

Reactions were mixed. Rogue and Warren had been ecstatic and had made comments so derogatory that Scott had actually felt obliged to reprimand them. Bobby was pleased, Scott and Hank seemed to think that it was probably for the best, and Storm had shown no reaction at all. Logan had remained silent and still, but several hours after the meeting he came knocking on the Professor's door. There, in Xavier's study, he gruffly spoke his mind.

"With all due respect, I don't think Remy left. Voluntarily, I mean."

"Why not?," the Professor responded, and Logan was relieved to hear interest and concern in his voice. A completely separate and independent part of his mind was commenting on how tired and old the man had become. It was like the last few weeks had aged him years. He hated to burden the Professor, but he would not let Remy be wronged again.

"I had Jubilee blow the lock on his door. He didn't take anything with him; and I know for a fact that he is quite attached to some of that stuff. Especially the expensive arty crap. And his bike - it's still in the garage. He loves that thing and wouldn't've left without it. I don't think he left."

"Remy has a lot of money and connections, so maybe he didn't feel the need to bring anything with him. It's not out of the realm of possibility, but there was nothing no sign of foul play in the night logs."

"Isn't that in itself suspicious?," Logan argued. "I mean, wouldn't there be evidence of him leaving the Mansion?"

"Maybe not. After all, he was able to get in undetected just a week ago, and he was in a much worse state then. Leaving in a similar fashion shouldn't have been too difficult."

"But why leave in such a manner? I don't think he would sneak out like a criminal, no matter what Warren and that lot would say," Logan said, his voice shifting into a growl.

But Professor X had his doubts. He conceded to himself that Logan probably knew the Cajun batter than he did, but he rather thought that disappearing without a trace would be quite in character.

Logan read his doubt on the Professor's face, and it angered him. Indeed, over the last week he had grown to dislike the X-men more and more. He felt their behavior outrageous and unjustifiable. How could they abandon one of their own? How could they have so little sympathy for one who had risked his life so many times for them? How dare they pass judgement when they themselves had sinned and erred time and time again? He wasn't even sure himself that the Cajun hadn't simply up and left, but it didn't matter. He shouldn't have had to leave.

"I will not let him be abandoned again," he snarled, stepping closer to the Professor somewhat menacingly. "Do you realize what the behavior of your X- men over the last week signifies? The end, that's what. It stinks. A certain line that should never have been crossed has been crossed. You no longer are in possession of the moral high ground, and that is a loss from which there can be no recovery. Not only was he left in Antarctica, but when he miraculously returns, giving everyone an undeserved second chance, he was received with hatred and disgust."

Logan's words made Xavier feel mildly nauseous, for he recognized his own thoughts in them. Logan was right. Whether Remy had left of his own volition or not, a great wrong had been committed, and needed to be righted. But it would be difficult to make the others see this, and that was perhaps the biggest part of the problem. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "I will talk to Scott, but I doubt he'll want to spend the time searching for Remy, what with Sinister and all - "

"I'll go by myself," Logan interrupted. "I'll find him. I just want a guarantee that it won't all be for nothing. I refuse to bring him back to this place if everyone is welcoming as they have been over the last week."

The Professor nodded. Even if Remy never returned, the others had to be made to realize how their unforgiving behavior defined them. They had to be made to step back and look at what they had done, for it was surely nothing of which any of them could be proud. Except Logan. The animalistic man had proven the most humane of any of them and the Professor felt a pang of admiration. "We should talk to Scott."

And talk with Scott they did.

Scott was not happy. Though he had never been fond of Remy (disliking his cavalier attitude and general sociability), he realized that something unacceptable had gone down in Antarctica, but was at a loss as to how to deal with the situation. He would have preferred to just forget about Antarctica, the trial, and Remy altogether, but he also realized the inherent injustice and overall wrongness in that. And so though he was not happy about the idea of not having Wolverine around at a time when the X- men were rapidly moving towards a confrontation with Sinister, he was also relieved that Logan had provided him with a relatively painless solution to the Remy problem. Having Logan track him down would lighten the load on his conscience without having to involve the rest of the X-men, which would certainly have driven the team apart at this time where solidarity was needed. So Scott agreed.

Unfortunately, Logan barely knew where to start looking. He knew the Cajun had been banned from ever returning to New Orleans, so the obvious connection was unlikely. He was aware, however, that Remy had been spending a good deal of time on the computer, as several times he had stopped by to find the young man sitting in front of the damn thing. His own affection for computers only extended to their usefulness as hurling objects. Jubilee, however, had an affinity for them and, while most of Remy's files seemed to be well encrypted, there were a number of revealing low-profile emails - particularly, a confirmation of a paymennt for a plane ticket from New York to Sydney. However, the date of departure was four days away. Though he still had his doubts that Remy had simply left, he decided that New York would, indeed, probably be a good place to start his search.

Logan spent much of that night reading the small selection of weakly encrypted emails, hoping to find some hints or clues. He found little more that could shed light on Remy's disappearance; but, some time after Jubilee had finally left for bed, he did come across an email of particular interest. It was a reply from Remy's father (who's name was Jean-Luc, if he remembered correctly), dated from over a year and a half ago, followed by the original message (in surprisingly excellent English, though Logan had always known the Cajun to be well learned) from Remy.

TO: R.

Subject: RE: A New Home

Oh Remy. I know you don't want to tell all that went wrong after you left New Orleans, but I also know what kind of person you are. I find it hard to believe that you could do something as awful as you imply. Besides, don't you think you have suffered enough already? I am glad you have found a new home, but you deserve better than enmity from these people. You are such a good person, and others would see it too if you would only let them. I know you think that what they don't know can't be used to hurt you, but have you ever thought that, if everyone knew, then you would not have secrets to be held against you?

As for your nightmares, there is nothing I can tell you that I have not said before: Open up, tell someone, be reassured. Though, admittedly, this may not be the best idea if your environment is somewhat hostile. But you can't keep these things inside, it's not healthy; and your banishment and my duties here mean that I can no longer be there for you in the way that you need me. You must seek companionship and love elsewhere. Things here continue as always. There is another skirmish between Us and those Asses. It is not your fault, by the way (I know how you love to take the credit/blame for every bad thing that has ever happened). The whole Julian affair was just an excuse to renew hostilities. You're lucky you're not here, as it has all become rather vicious and, yet, tiresome at the same time.

Love, J.L.

---

TO: J.L.

Subject: A New Home

Cher Papa: You wouldn't believe it, but after years of non-stop fucking up, I think I may finally have found the path to redemption. I cannot say where I am, though I'm sure you can find out through the network, but I can say that I am where I can do good, where I can make a difference, and where I can atone for my mistakes.

I don't think the people here like me much though, but I suppose I can expect little else. And after years of being 'liked' by all the wrong people for all the wrong reasons, it's almost refreshing to be hated by the right people for the right reasons. I have, however, made one friend (at least I hope so). Though many of our past times are the same, he's not at all like me - he is strong, and brave, and honest. He doesn't play mind games, or any games at all. I wish I had the strength to be that way, though perhaps not so quick to anger. I think I would never doubt myself or be afraid if I were like that.

The nightmares are becoming strange. They are very similar as they have always been, but now my mind does not find them so frightening and horrible. It is as though even my subconscious has normalized the pain and degradation. This greatly confuses and disturbs me.

I regret that this letter is so morose. It is only that I need someone to vent to, and you are the only person in this world that I trust. I am actually doing better than I have since I left New Orleans. I have been given such a great opportunity here, it is going to take a lot more than friendly fire to scare me off. I love and miss you. Give my love Mattie and Henri.

R.

Logan considered the letter, not entirely sure how he should react to it. He was angry at the X-men for rejecting Remy from the word 'go'. He was haunted by Jean-Luc's advice to find someone to open up to, for Remy had followed that advice - he'd found Rogue and he'd opened up to her, and, of course, she'd tried to kill him for it. And, lastly, there was an almost forgotten warmth (accompanied by some remorse) in his rusty heart that came from knowing that it was he who Remy considered a friend.

They had never talked about their friendship, and Logan sometimes wondered if the Cajun even thought of him as a friend. He hoped so, with some guilt, because he didn't feel as though he had really been there for Remy enough to actually be considered a friend. He was always off in Japan, or somewhere in Canada, or simply distant. Logan was too much of a loner to have close friends, much the way he had always assumed Remy to be. So if he was, indeed, the only friend Remy had in the Mansion, then that wasn't saying very much.

But he turned his mind from these thoughts and feelings. He was going to make it up to Remy, he was going to redeem all of the X-men. He was going to find that boy, save him if needs be, and, in the process, save them all from becoming what they never wanted to be. Then, once wrongs had been righted, then, perhaps, he could work on being a good friend - something he could never remember being, though some vague confidence emanating from lost memories told him that he knew how.

New Jersey:

Within twenty four hours of receiving Cyke's permission (a formality really, as he would have gone even without it), Logan was in New Jersey, just across the river from New York City. He knew exactly where he was going, as at some point in the night he had realized that he had an address Remy had given to him around a year ago. At the time the Cajun had been planning on leaving the Mansion permanently, as him and Rogue had just broken up (for first of many times) and he was not dealing well with the hostility provoked in the rest of team by Rogue's false accusations against him. He had given Logan (and only Logan) this address, saying that if ever he was needed - for anything - this address was the way he could be reached. Of course, Remy had never managed to leave, as Rogue wasn't finished with him yet; and in retrospect, Logan wish he had. It would have spared the Cajun a year of pain, rejection, and mind fucks.

The neighborhood was run down and the few people on the street looked haunted. He pulled his bike into the pathway in front of the boarded-up house that sported the same address as the slip of paper (which had remained forgotten in Logan's wallet for a year now). The house was even more decrepit than the others on the street and, from the outside, there was no sign of life. The front door was boarded closed and, in the interests of being as unobtrusive as possible, Logan walked around the house to find another entrance, fear in his gut that whoever had once lived here lived here no longer. But no. the house smelled too clean to actually be uninhabited and there was a definite sent of. a human, female.

The back door was not boarded-up. Indeed, it was not even locked. He cautiously opened the door and passed through, finding himself in a small, clean, and completely unfurnished room. Frowning, he called out, "Hello! Anyone home?"

Almost immediately a strong woman's voice responded. "I'm in the basement! Come on down!"

It wasn't to hard to find the basement door in the small house and Logan promptly descended a narrow staircase towards a the warm light of the basement. The basement was well furnished, not in the sense of quality, but it was comfortable and homey. A woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties with ragged blond hair, stood in a far, though well-lit corner. She had a worn bandana tied around her eyes and a shotgun in her hands, lowered but definitely pointed in his direction. Logan tried to speak, but she beat him to it, her voice laced with a soft accent. "Don't worry, it's only a precaution. I doubt you're here to cause trouble, so as long as you don't make any sudden movements, there is no reason any violence has to go down."

Logan almost smiled. His gut already liked this woman, and Logan tended to have a great deal of faith in his gut. "You're right, I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm here because I'm looking for Remy."

At that the gun was lowered entirely, and a smile appeared on her face. "You must be Logan then."

"That's right. Who are you?"

"Someone who can help you find Remy."

"Where is he then?"

Her brow furrowed briefly before she spoke, "Not dead anyway. But I'm not sure I should it would be entirely appropriate for me to tell you where."

"Why not?," Logan growled.

"The circumstances under which Remy instructed me to allow you to find him are no longer applicable. Care to tell me what the new circumstances are?"

It was Logan's turn to frown. He knew the truth would be somewhat incriminating and unlikely to persuade the woman; but he hadn't the patience to outright lie. But was she trustworthy. "Can you convince me that I should trust you with the truth?"

She laughed at that, nodding. She gestured towards a round table near a wall. "It looks like there is a long conversation that needs to be had."

Warily, but with a sense of trust steadily growing on both sides, Logan and the woman sat down opposite each other. The first topic covered was the issue if how the woman, who finally introduced herself as Rixt (and placed the origins of her accent in South Africa), was be able to locate Remy. Rixt explained that she her mutant factor had manifested as an ability to "see" humans (and, to a less developed extent, animals) according to their position on the space plane. This ability was not as useful as one would hope as she could only identify, and therefore locate, individuals with whose biological signatures she was already familiar.

"Biological signatures? So it's a telepathically based ability?," Logan asked.

"No," she replied shaking her head. "If it was, I wouldn't be able to locate Remy. His mental walls are simply too strong and too, well, camouflaged. What I do is recognize living tissue, though I've trained myself to pay attention mostly only to human tissue. I am familiar with the peculiarities of Remy's tissue so I'm able to locate him amidst six billion other people."

"So you can see even the way I position my body?"

She nodded, though adding that she could only do so within reasonable distances, and Logan ventured to ask why she wore a bandana over her eyes. She explained that she had been blinded as a child by some 'unsavory officials' back home in South Africa. After a pregnant moment of silence, Rixt turned the conversation towards Remy. With reluctance, Logan explained about Antarctica, about the rest of the X-men, about himself, and about Remy's recent disappearance. Rixt listen the entire time in tense silence. When Logan finished, there was a long pause and from the look in her eyes, he could tell that she was not happy.

"You've all really fucked up. Remy is. precious. To hurt him is, well, to hurt a child, an innocent. He's had so much suffering already and whatever actions he may be responsible for, his intensions were always in the right place."

Logan was concerned about the direction this conversation was heading and he feared she would refuse him. But she took a ragged breath and began differently. "Remy really likes you. He has. many great things to say about you. And he is usually an excellent judge of character and you seem like a good man to me as well. I just. I just want to make sure that I am delivering him into the hands of someone who loves him as I do. Someone who will protect him and believe in him, for these are the things he needs."

Her voice was growing strained with conviction; then she abruptly asked, "Have you ever seen his scars?"

Logan nodded. Indeed, sunbathing had been one of Remy's favorite pastimes during his two summers at the Mansion. Anyone who took a look at him (and most did, even if reluctantly, as scantily clad embodiments of sex appeal are generally hard to ignore) would be unable to not notice the scars. Though many were faded with time and sun, some were obviously more recent.

"Yeah, well, some of the more recent ones he did to himself. After the Massacre. well, Remy's forte has always been the guilt department. As long as I've known him, he's never thought very highly of himself and the whole Massacre thing. it nearly killed him too. The guilt almost destroyed him and any value he held on his own life was gone. He started taking the most dangerous assignments, the one's no one else would take - breaking into government installations and stuff. He was careless with his life, purposely putting himself in the way of danger and harm. And, inevitably, it almost killed him. After that, he came to stay with me and to physically recover, and I took it upon myself to help him recover his self as well. I guess I need to know that that's what you will help him do now."

Again, a pause, as Logan collected his thoughts. "I have failed him, I know. Not just in Antarctica, when I wasn't even there, but even before. I sensed how much he hurt. We would drink and smoke and gamble and hell- raise, but I could tell by how relaxed he was with me, just how unhappy he was generally. I dunno, I guess I thought he was like me - a loner who'd do a better job of nursing his own wounds than anyone else ever could. But even that I cannot say in all honesty. I knew. I knew that wasn't. emotionally independent, I guess. Words hurt him more than sticks and stones, though he'd never show it. Rixt, please tell me where he is. I do believe in him and I do want to protect him. I want to give him a chance to build himself up as strong and magnificent as I know he can be."

Rixt nodded. "He's in Mexico."