When Remy had insisted on leaving, Logan hadn’t been too keen on stopping him.
Compassion and comfort were not words he was accustomed to. It didn’t stop him from
wondering where the Cajun had taken off to. He hated the terrible suspense of
wondering whether Remy was getting drunk in some out-of-state bar or if he was dead
along the roadside.
Logan lay on the carpet in front of his bed, drifting in and out of sleep. His eyes weighed
heavy on him but each time they tried to close, he fought them. How could he sleep
when Remy was out there somewhere, miserable over the way they had left things.
Hushed whispering reached his ears but he ignored it. Where could Remy have ventured
off to? He could always take his jeep and search for him. The soft voices persisted but
Logan’s mind had wandered off to images of twisted metal lying in the middle of a road.
Within that metal was a human form too broken to identify. Logan shook his head to
banish the thought of Remy injured or dead.
Quiet giggling rattled his ear drums. “…lover’s quarrel…,” was the first thing that
caught his attention. Kurt! He was spreading more rumors.
“They were doing what?!!” This time it sounded like Iceman was distinctly joining in
and getting a kick out of Kurt’s lies.
Logan burst out of his room, grabbed Kurt by his pointed ears and nailed them to the wall
with his fists. “I’ve had it with yer tales, ‘Crawler.” The claws on his right knuckles
snapped out and pointed at Kurt’s head.
“Well…aren’t you and Gambit an item?”
Did it ever take guts to stick such an obvious blunt question to Wolverine. He was about
to give Kurt three holes in his head when he heard the silent presence of Ororo behind
him. For Logan, hearing meant three things; his ears pricked up, the hair on his arms
bristled and all of his senses went into hyper mode. Ororo was so familiar with Logan
from their years of friendship that he didn’t need to hear, see or smell her to know that
she was there.
“Are you?” Kurt smiled innocently, glancing sideways at Bobby who was dying to hear
what Logan would say.
“No.” He saw Ororo fly off out of the corner of his eye. Something told him that she had
been anticipating a different response. Maybe a confession that he really was more than
infatuated with Remy. Even if it would lead to more gossip and misinterpreted
assumptions about Logan’s involvement with Remy. Which was worse? His reputation,
the code of stealth and secrecy he lived by shattered to pieces of indignation strewn for
everyone to see? Or, Remy running blindly out into the night wondering if their shared
passion hadn’t been more than animal hormones on his behalf. “There’s nothing going
on between Gambit and myself. If ya can’t get that straight, then I’ll hafta drill it through
yer thick skull. Got it?!” So much for Remy’s hurt feelings. *He’ll get over it.*
“You don’t need to tell me twice.” Kurt poofed into thin air and reappeared hanging
upside down from the ceiling, his feet sticking to it. “If you were going out, you would
be gentleman enough to admit it. My apologies, Logan.” Another poof and he was gone.
“Um…bye-bye!” Iceman skated away from Wolverine, missing being impaled with six
mean claws.
The road in front of Remy seemed to be getting longer, many potholes steering him far
too close to the stretch of a very deep ditch on his right side. But, he was far too
emotionally detached to pay much attention to it. In fact, if he were to plunge off into it
and break his neck, it might solve a few of his problems. One of which would have to be
the aching his entire body was experiencing. *Dat idiot didn’ even bother to use any
lubricant. I’m goin’ to be so damn sore for days!* And did it ever hinder Remy’s
handling of his motorcycle! He wanted nothing more than to get off and hitch a ride to
the nearest motel where he could wallow in his sorrows. Still, the immature part of him
wanted to punish Logan for his insensitivity. That part of him remembered how his
foster father had reacted when he had purposely gotten into a fight in retaliation for some
stupid rule at home. He had gone off, more at the mouth than anything, and returned
with a black eye and a couple of bruises. For his foster father to see him in that state
when he was barely into his teens made the man more angry than anything else.
*No, he’ll kick my head off before he cries over my wounds.* Falling off of his bike was
out of the question. And why was he thinking of revenge anyway? Didn’t he love the
man? For all of his faults and personality flaws, was it not wrong for him to want Logan
to hurt as much as he was doing?
Up ahead, by a desolate gas station, stood a wasted motel which appeared to be
abandoned at a first glance. Upon closer inspection, Remy noticed that it was inhabited
with the owner hanging out of the lobby door looking for the first sucker to drop on in. It
wasn’t incredibly inhospitable for the Cajun had stayed in worse places for large gaps in
his life. Those blank spots were better left unsaid and not remembered for the unpleasant
reaction that he had to them. His past was just shrouded in mystery but more pain and
suffering than one man should ever have to endure.
“You’re a very lucky man,” the old lady crowed at Remy when he inquired about her
vacancies in the motel.
“How you figure that?” He regarded her with his red, demonic eyes and pondered over
the irony of her statement. There couldn’t be anyone alive who was more misfortunate
and damned than he was.
She smiled a toothless smile before handing him a key. One so rusted and simply carved
that it wouldn’t have surprised Remy if it opened every door in the lot. *What lot?* His
motorcycle was parked on a patch of grass outside of the door to his rented room. That
was the closest thing to a parking spot that the building claimed to own. And with the
knocked down fence several feet away leading to the gas station, Remy was suspicious if
the lady really did own that land. “This is our last vacancy,” she responded sluggishly to
his question.
“And that makes me lucky.” He sighed and entered the barren room, slamming the door
behind him. He was indeed a lucky man. One with no family, no friends and now no
positive or promised future to beckon him into a better life. Logan would never commit
to him, of that he was certain. Every time they were in the eyes of their colleagues,
Logan acted as if admitting any passing interest in him would mean embarrassment.
Maybe even shame, the kind that associated Logan with a criminal. *And I’m the
criminal.*
Remy slunk onto the bed which creaked as he added his weight to the mattress. He
needed time to think, to calm down from the rejection he had received. To forgive Logan
for thinking that he was entitled to speaking for the both of them. And if given enough
rest, he would also be very happy to ease his battered body into a nice, hot bath. Logan
was indeed comparable to an animal, especially when it came to bloodlust and feverish
passion. How glorious those hours had been, alone with the older man, benefiting from
his talents which no one else would ever know about. *And all for nothing. I’m not
going to hide away…did that one too many times…no good will come of it. Either
Logan compromises on dis…or I’m leaving again and I ain’t never gonna come back.*
****************************************
The next morning was not at all pleasant for Remy. He woke up far too early, knowing
that no classy restaurants would be open for business. On top of the lousy night he had
gone through, now his stomach either went without food or suffered poisoning at one of
the local diners. And the little rest he had gone through was filtered out by the scraping
sounds of mice in the walls and the skittering of cockroaches on the brittle floor. Still, it
was nothing new to Remy, he could take it. That was all he did nowadays…just stood up
and let himself be knocked down as many times as was humanly possible. If he only had
kept count of Rogue’s numerous date refusals. Or the slaps he had endured from her on
particularly bad days.
Rogue was a woman who didn’t know how to treat a gentleman. Not like Remy could be
classified as someone who rated as nobleman of the year. But, he was a ladies man and
Rogue got more attention than any female with long legs and a flirty smile ever could
from him. He had wined and dined her, complimented what she wore, how she walked
and spoke with that southern drawl. The voice of a southern belle but the heart of an ice
maiden. When Rogue had abandoned Remy, pitched his worthless carcass into a den of
wolves, he thought that nothing could ever compare to it. How could anything be more
terrible than being scorned by the woman he loved?
“Logan, you gone and topped off Rogue,” Remy spoke to an empty room. “Just when I
thought she was hell’s messenger, you turn out to be de devil himself. You go and use
Gambit for sex, then you throw him away like garbage.” And that was how he felt,
cheated, taken advantage of.
As Remy was hopping onto his motorcycle, he took one last look at the motel. The
owner was still in bed, he had snuck into her room to return his key. Looking at that old,
shambled building was like gazing into the past. It was the life he had led before being
brought into the X-Men fold. The life of a thief, a scoundrel, castaway…whatever the
normal folk chose to categorize him as. Being a mutant, he could never lead a normal
life with the rest of society. So, his past had been spent hiding from anyone who would
scream hideous names at him, rob him of his future. This motel was more than he ever
could have afforded as a lone mutant, starving at the fringes of society. His pleas for
sanction and mercy going unanswered.
Now he was with the X-Men, aiding the collaboration between humans and mutants alike
to create a better future for all. In Gambit’s eyes, it could happen one day, maybe even
soon. There were leaders in powerful positions across the world who would support the
new era. But, in Remy’s eyes, seeing the silent wars waged everyday in back alleys and
open streets, he considered peace to be dead. It was only a futile attempt to prolong the
inevitable. At least this was the frame of mind that Remy was currently in. He didn’t
give a damn whether they won or lost the war. In the end, nobody would live to see
tomorrow.
“Why should I even care?” Remy revved up the engine of the motorcycle and flicked on
a pair of dark sunglasses. Inside, he knew that he was responsible for part of that future.
He had enabled the crucifixion of too many innocents with his own greed, stupidity and
ignorance. An all too familiar gnawing sensation ate away at Remy’s conscience,
engraved pictures of the long departed in his mind. They were on his head, he had killed
them. Not directly but it was all his fault. Their souls would not rest until he joined
them in heaven or hell. Where were the Morlocks now? Did they have a place in either
direction of afterlife? Remy sure hoped so because if they didn’t then neither did he.
Remy sped down the highway, fighting back his own anguish. But where was he headed?
Back to Logan or somewhere else to start over again. Could he really do that? Did it
ever help or atone for his sins? He could keep creating new identities for himself,
pretend to be someone he wasn’t. However, no matter what he decided, he could never
forget.
Laura Ann Miller was close to relating with Remy’s frustration. She had problems,
Remy had problems, but didn’t they all have problems? Unlike the Cajun, she was a
strong woman who refused to let small things escalate into big catastrophes. She took it
one day at a time, kept an optimistic attitude regardless of the situation. And how was she
able to become such a bright person? Maybe the credit lay with her three kids and her
shining spirit. Even after a lengthy divorce process, near poverty and a dreaded illness
filling her body, Laura battled on. She was not a quitter.
On this day, her nerves were slightly frayed from the hours and miles she had spent
driving. Walking was fine with her, cycling or jogging…not a complaint would you hear,
but driving? She loathed the busy roads, the endless forks leading off to one-way streets
or some crabby man’s private property. She was a city dweller, working as a secretary by
day and an all-purpose mom at night.
“Mommy! Are we there yet?” The two-year-old girl wailed in the back seat, pulling
against the constraints of her child, safety belt. When ‘Mommy’ didn’t respond, the girl
began to bawl her eyes out. “I wanna go home! Mommy!”
“Just a little while longer.” Laura was amazed that her youngest child had remained
docile for this long. They were halfway to Grandma’s house but lacking any gingerbread
to calm the young ones. Already, the other girl and her brother had gone to attacking
each other in the back of her brown, pickup truck. It wasn’t the type of vehicle that
secretaries usually drove but it had been a good price. And it proved to be difficult to
hold three children behind the driver’s seat on such a long vacation.
Where was Grandma’s house anyway? Had they passed the hidden road? Following an
endless stretch of highway was boring, maybe she had missed the entrance. Laura
reached over to the passenger’s seat for her map. They didn’t visit her mother often so it
was pretty easy to get lost in the countryside. She narrowed her eyes and cursed softly.
“I knew this road didn’t look familiar!” She glanced at the road up ahead and then back
at the map.
“Mom! He hit me!” The second daughter yelled out before whacking her brother over
the head with her doll. Then, they really started to go at it, screaming and shouting.
“Guys! Please!” Laura turned around to give them her best authoritarian glare. “It isn’t
much farther. Try to be patient and behave while I’m driving.”
Suddenly, the girl leaned forward and covered her mouth with her hands. “Mom! That
man on the bike, watch out!”
Laura whirled around in her seat and saw him, a young man speeding in front of the truck
on a street crossing the highway. She noticed the stop sign on her side, realizing that he
had the right of way. And he was too intent on his driving that he didn’t see her. She
braked as hard as she could, spun the truck into a ditch as her kids screamed in the back.
But, a dull thud hit the rear fender of her truck as it fishtailed and clipped the man’s back
wheel. She heard the screeching of metal grinding over the asphalt and then a loud bang.
“Oh my God!” She stayed in her seat, the safety belt cutting off her circulation. Then,
Laura fought her panic down as it threatened to overwhelm her. “Is everyone okay?”
She turned around, hoping that all of her children were still in one piece. They nodded
although her youngest was crying miserably. “I need to see if that man is alright. Just
stay right here and I’ll be back.”
The road was deserted except for broken bits of motorcycle which crumbled under her
shoes. She could see him lying underneath the bike, trapped by its weight, his longish
auburn hair glittering in the sun. At one point, she nearly cheered upon noting that his
hand had moved. But, it was only an illusion of her wavering vision which was clouding
with tears. Had she killed him?
“Mom…I think he’s dead.” Her son had appeared behind her, too young to imagine
what death was like. The finality and absolution of it, the inability to reverse the process
of death itself.
“No…he’s only hurt. I can see him breathing.” And she could, but not it wasn’t as
powerful as the thumping in her own chest. Her heartbeat threatened to choke her where
she stood. She was that afraid, too shaken over what had just occurred. A man was
injured because of her carelessness.
Laura crawled in closer to check the man’s pulse, relieved when her fingers detected a
very faint one. Then, she moved her hands to his helmet, wondering if she was supposed
to remove it and support his neck with something. Or, could it be a better idea to leave
him in that position and not attempt to move him? “Mister…can you hear me?” Her
words were mumbled behind her fist which had automatically silenced a cry of fear.
Would he live?
“I…hear you,” came his heavily accented response.
“OH, thank God!” She hugged her son, overcome with unexplainable joy upon hearing
him speak. “I’m going to call an ambulance. Just try to stay still and hold on.”
“Okay.” Then, he looked up at her and for Remy, his hopes of recovering plummeted
back to zero tolerance. He saw the first moment of questioning register in her mind,
followed by a quick confirmation. And finally, one word sprang to her mind, so loud that
Remy could have sworn that she uttered it verbally. Mutant.
“What…what are you?” She pulled her son away from him, glaring hatred into his red,
glowing eyes. “What kind of animal are you?” All reasoning left her, replacing it with
cold, hard anger. He was one of ‘them’, one of the freaks of nature. They stole from
good people, killed without a cause, brought plagues and diseases into their clean world.
She believed that all mutants were evil and had no place in her heart or home.
“Same as you…flesh and blood.” Remy coughed violently, really panicked when he
tasted coppery blood on his tongue and lips. He was bleeding internally, not a very good
sign. His legs wouldn’t move and neither could his arms or hands. The bike was too
heavy, he thought it best not to risk touching it for fear of his kinetic powers taking
effect. If he charged the bike and then lost consciousness, he’d be a pile of shrapnel
before he made it to the hospital.
“No! Your kind is not human. Stay away from me…stay away from my family!” She
slowly moved back, acting as if Remy would get up and destroy her where she stood.
“You don’t have to like Remy…at least call my friends…” *What friends?*
“Hurry up and get in the car.” Laura made sure her son was safely inside before facing
Remy. “When I thought I’d killed you, I almost wanted to die myself. You made me
actually care for you…thinking that you were normal. Now, seeing that you’re nothing
more than a lousy mutant, you can lie there and bleed to death for all I care.” Her last
word was muttered as she started up her truck and drove it out of the ditch. But, Remy
heard it all too clearly, ‘mutant’ became embedded in his mind before it shut down
completely.
********************************************
Several hours later, Logan was pacing around the estate grounds, growling at everyone he
ran into. He was in the foulest of moods, contemplating how to deal with Remy when he
returned. After their lovemaking, he found it to be more than rude for Remy to take off
and not let him know his whereabouts. More than rude, it was plain cruel to toy with his
emotions. Far be it from him to show Remy how deeply his absence drove him mad.
Crazy with lust, fear and anticipation all mixed into one urge. The urge to see Remy
again and be with him as soon as Logan found him.
“Logan!” Storm sailed above him, guided by a precarious wind. It was unlike her to
overuse her powers unless it was absolutely necessary. She didn’t need such a strong
force to navigate across such a short distance. Her speed and facial expression told
Logan that something was wrong. He didn’t like it one bit.
“What’s up, ‘Ro?” He waited, his heart sinking. Her silence and careful planning of how
she could put it gently told Logan that it concerned Remy. So, it had happened as he
feared it would. One of his enemies, Sabretooth perhaps, had located Remy and either
kidnapped or murdered him. The second thought was too fatal and terrible for him to
linger on for too long. How could Remy be gone when their time together had only
begun?
“It’s Remy…” The irises or her eyes were nowhere to be seen but if they could be, they
would hold nothing but sympathy for her old friend.
“I know that darlin’. Quit with the sentimental bullshit and spit it out. Who got him and
how bad is he hurt?”
Ororo settled down onto the grass before answering. “It isn’t what you think.” She
gathered all of her nerves up in a bundle to give him the news. He was not going to like
hearing what she had to tell him. “Remy was knocked down on his motorcycle…not by
one of our enemies.”
“How do ya know that fer sure? We’ve got too many freakin’ assholes that would kill to
mess up one of our own.”
“Logan, there was a witness. He said that it was a hit and run and I believe him. The
woman meant no harm, she got frightened when she learnt that Remy was a mutant.
Otherwise, she would have retrieved help for him.”
“Would have?” Logan’s claws shot out from their hiding places as he started to stalk
over to the garage for his jeep. “Where is Remy now?”
“The hospital…in the operating room. There is nothing that you can do for him, Logan.”
“It isn’t what I’m going to do for him…it’s what I’m going to do to that cowardly bitch.”
He avoided Ororo’s harsh stare and kept going towards his jeep which was parked in the
driveway. Before he could get to it, the entire vehicle was swept up, off of the ground
and onto the roof. The gust of wind let up when Logan spun around to grab Ororo by her
shoulders. “You’d really prevent me from getting revenge on her? She left my damn
lover on the roadside to be easy prey for any mutie-hater or reckless punk driving by.
Did she even dial 9-1-1?”
“Logan…” She couldn’t meet his angry gaze. “No…she did not. But, you have no right
to scare either her or her children. It is not as if she intentionally ran Remy down with
the intent of injuring or killing him. It was an accident and should be treated as such.
We have come across many people like her in our years as X-Men. Her thoughts are not
her own, you cannot blame her for them. She is but one of many sheep who do not know
anything other than what she is told. How many times has someone shouted an offensive
remark to you which you wisely cast off? You are above this pointless retaliation.”
“I would have been…but this is personal. I’m going to see Remy…ask him for the
details. If I’m not satisfied, she won’t be living a very happy life after I’m done with
her.”
Ororo could only watch Logan climb into his jeep after she’d lowered it back onto the
ground. How could she prevent him from doing whatever he pleased? She had spoken to
him, advised him on the proper thing to do. No matter how closely she supervised him,
Logan would escape her scrutiny and make his enemy pay if it came to that. If only the
others could see how deeply concerned Logan was for Remy. How much he cared and
how it hurt him to see the Cajun in any sort of pain. It would be even more beneficial if
Remy himself knew just how tightly wound Logan was over him. She prayed that the
bitter, old man would tell Remy how important he was to him. Show him before
something else tore them apart or made it impossible to do so in the future.
She also prayed that Remy would recuperate quickly, saving some misled woman from
having her brains splattered on her kitchen wall by some very angry claws. Wolverine
was not a man to be messed with. From past history, tampering with his love life proved
to be more fatal than anything else. Laura Ann Miller was going to be one extremely
sorry lady.
