special- Victor/Remy
They're working on the Hydra base when the Xmen crash in, and it's only proper to work together with them for once, Steve and (James, his name was James, but he doesn't know it now, doesn't see the recognition in Steve's eyes, and it hurts like losing Bucky hurt) Logan find themselves back to back, yelling orders at both teams and at neither teams. Steve throws his shield and Logan catches it, and it's a dance more than it's not, and it reminds him of the war in a way that nothing, nothing ever does. Having that same man at his back probably helps.
The last bodies are falling to the ground when Logan stiffens, his face going round, his nose shifting in that particular way he has, and it doesn't take Stark for him to know that something's just gone wrong, terribly wrong.
"What is it?"
Logan just takes off without saying anything, cutting through the trees that seperate them from where they've left the jets, and Steve follows, barking orders into his earpiece without hearing any responses, they need backup, they need it now, something's happened. By the time they've hit the clearing, Steve's in step with Logan, holding his shield out in front of him and bracing for whatever this new terror is. He looks around, but Logan's only got eyes for the Xmen's jet and the figure standing shaky at the end of the ramp.
"LeBeau!"
LeBeau. The Xmen's pilot. Almost as old as Steve, and with equally unaged looks, he remembered from the sparse files. A pilot, and a fighter, in equal measure, though all he looks like right now is a man on the verge of breaking. A trenchcoat the guard against the world, the man has one hand on the jet's support beam, and another on his side, white as if he's just been shot, but Steve can't see any blood.
"LeBeau," Logan breaths again, and goes to put his hand out Remy's shoulder, but the other man flinches away, and Steve can see the frown that over takes Logan's face. "Shit. How long?" He looks... Well, if it was anyone else but Logan looking like that, Steve would call them scared, so he supposes that's the word he does have to answer, however much it doesn't feel right.
"Since..." LeBeau frowns, and Logan swears, and Steve is feeling truly like a stranger looking in, with all the pressure of not leaving, but none of the knowledge of what to do.
"How bad is it? You want Jean or Rogue?"
The mumbled word that comes out of LeBeau's mouth sounds kinda like Rogue, and Logan swears, turning to run off before he swings back around and grabs onto Steve's shoulder. "Stay with him. Don't let him run off. Keep him here." There's force in his voice, a high demand in his tone that makes Steve listen, nod and slip his shield back onto his back. He joins LeBeau on the ramp, and before Logan's even gone five steps, the man is falling against his chest. Steve catchs him, of course he catches him, but it feels strange, and awkward, and with a few gentle proddings, he gets them both seated on the ground.
"Hey there." LeBeau is shaking, and his skin is cold despite the sheen of sweat covering it, and Steve begins running his hands through the man's hair, gentle and slow. "I'm Steve."
LeBeau doesn't say anything, but he lets Steve hold him, shaking and cold, until Logan comes back, a girl beside him. Rogue, Steve remembers distantly, another of the Xmen, as she comes to a skidding halt in front of them.
"Oh, sugar. Here." And as Steve watches, Rogue peels off one of her gloves, presses a hand to LeBeau's forehead, holds it there when the man starts to recoil. Steve can feel LeBeau stiffen beside him, and then he's going limp, falling against Steve's shoulder. He stares up at the young woman in horror.
"What did you do to him?"
There's no more shivering from LeBeau, no more shaking or quiet whimpering. Just unnatural stillness that makes Steve stare at Rogue in horror. She frowns, and slips her glove back on before coming down and reaching for LeBeau's throat. Steve bats her hand away. "Easy there, sugar. I just knocked him out a bit. Helps him cope with the bond."
"The bond?" His eyes go back down to the man leaning on his shoulder. Fighting a soulmate bond would explain it, but why would knocking him out do anything to help the pain? And what sort of person would put their soulmate through this. "He's fighting a soulmate bond?"
Rogue sighes, and joins Steve in siting on the ground. "No. Just fighting his soulmate."
"Explain please."
"It's not really my story to tell. You just need to know that his soulmate doesn't do this on purpose. It's part of Remy's mutation, that he feels it this bad. Victor's trying to learn to control it, but it's hard for him."
"So it's because they're mutants that doing this hurts them like this?"
She shakes her head. "It's how Victor is. His mutantion itself, not that he's a mutant. I don't feel it at all, and I've had my soulmate rattling up in my noggin for months. Remy's just...unlucky. His soulmate, Victor, he's a feral. Like Logan, but so much worse. And Remy feels all of those urges, the madness as he calls it. But he can't do anything about it. And it makes him hurt."
Steve wants to ask more, but there's a roar from the other side of the clearing, and the Logan and a man that Steve recognizes just as much as he does the first, come barrelling along. Rogue jumps out of the way, but Steve isn't quick enough to stop the blond from leaping over him, and grabbing LeBeau. He's scrambling for the shield on his back, but there are two sets of hands pulling him away, holding him from running after the blond terror.
But there is no scream, no flash of red blood and death. No, that monster of a man is sitting on the grass, with LeBeau's head craddled in his arms, almost hidden from Steve's sight, and he's... He's...
He's singing.
"They're writing songs of love," the man's voice is quiet, but Steve can still hear him over the stillness of the air. And as he relaxes, the grip Logan and Rogue have on him does too, until it is merely the three of them standing in a line, watching the ongoing scene. "But not for me."
"That's, that's," sputters Steve, as the familiar tune carries on.
"Remy's soulmate," Logan supplies with a sad frown.
"Victor Creed," Steve finishes instead. "What's he doing here?"
Both Xmen turn to look at him with near identical expressions of disbelief on their faces. "You know him," Rogue finally asks, once Steve is starting to forget under the weight of their gazes. "You know Victor."
Steve looks again at the blond, now running a hand through LeBeau's hair, head turned downwards but the profile of his head the same, and nods once. "Yeah. Should have known that if you survived, Logan, he would have too."
There is an awkward silence that hangs over them until finally, long after the point that Steve has started to get antsy, LeBeau begins to stir in Victor's arms, and Victor helps the man to stand and walk back over to the jet. Both look pale and shake, LeBeau curled up next to Victor's side. Now standing, his coat hangs low on his shoulders, and Steve can see the scrawl of, what are you doing here pretty boy, in a hand that he remembers from badly written reports. And he remembers the elegant, if awkward, writing on Victor's upper arm, could ask you the same mon ceour.
"Lift off?"
Logan flicks off his cigarette into the grass, shrugging at Victor's question. "When the rest of the team gets back. I'll warn ya." Victor starts walking LeBeau up the ramp, but then he stills, puts his giant hand on Steve's shoulder, and smirks at him.
"Drinks later, Rogers. As thanks for looking after him."
Steve just nods, and smiles, and watches the pair go.