Coming Back
Something was bothering him. He hadn’t been at the mansion for a week, which was short for him, and he didn’t think his little trip back home helped him at all. He’d tried. He’d gambled, he’d thrown a few punches, he’d gotten blind drunk, and all throughout there was this little itch in the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite soothe. It was as if he were going insane, or trying to appease something that wasn’t able to tell you what it wants, like an infant. Or a manager.
Remy LeBeau drove his car into the X-Men’s garage, before stepping out and leaning against the hood.
The itch. The itch. The itch. It didn’t seem to leave at all. Sometimes worsening at the most asinine of places; a cafe, seeing a couple share beignets with sugar-coated fingers, laughing with each other with whimsy drenching the whole scene - seeing two cats sleeping in the late afternoon sun, light shimmering against their black and calico fur as if it were silk...
...and also after eating a warm croissant too fast, but he figured that was just heartburn.
He stretched, feeling stiff from the long drive, hearing his joints pop. Sighing as he let himself slouch a little, LeBeau pondered on why the hell he was feeling like this.
Maybe he was a bit sick. Judging by the fact it was around the chest and it seemed to also be messing with his brain, it was probably a cold or something. Then why hadn’t he been able to sleep it off? Additionally, he’d been in a warmer climate, how did that not only not get rid of it, but seem to make it worse?
And why did he hear screaming?
Remy froze and looked up in the direction of the sound. It was from the main building, likely the dorms. The screaming stopped as soon as it started, replaced by frantic yelling. He couldn’t make out what was being said, but it sounded like the source of the scream was calling for someone.
And the source sounded like Jubilee.
Breaking off into a swift run, leaving his belongings in the car, he exited the driveway and ran up the marble stairs that led into the entrance of the main building, leaving a few startled students in his wake. He shoved the doors open and was already making his way up the stairs before they could close, taking two steps at a time in quick succession.
Remy stopped immediately when he saw Hank Mccoy at the top of the stairs, with a frightened Jubilee close behind him…
...all while holding the lifeless body of Logan in his arms.
The blood drained out of LeBeau’s face, and he barely registered that Hank was already at the foot of the staircase by the time he snapped out of it. He hastily descended and followed the large blue mutant, managing to come out with one question;
“ What happened?”
“I don’t know. ” Hank replied, a little sharply and without looking at him, but that was likely due to nerves.
Jubilee tugged on Remy’s sleeve to get his attention.
“I...I found him like this in the shower,” she whispered in a scared yet hushed tone “He wasn’t-he wasn’t moving, and there was blood-” Jubilee composed herself to the best of her ability before continuing “...there was blood on the tiles, like he’d hit his head, and…”
She trailed off, and continued to follow Hank in silence.
Remy walked a little faster so he was in pace with Mccoy, and craned his neck to get a look at Logan’s condition for himself.
He got a glimpse, but that wasn’t Logan.
That was a corpse .
Hank looked as if he were holding a decaying cadaver in his arms, and only one thought ran through Remy LeBeau’s mind at that sight.
You could have stopped this.
He had been the only one to protest to the mission, and the only one to go back for Logan.
And he had given up twice.
Logan’s healing factor couldn’t save him.
“..it’s all my fault.”
It was like giving a confession. A quiet, unheard confession, but a confession nonetheless. It didn’t feel good or relieving, it felt as if he was on the gallows; but he was the executioner, and his victim - the man currently hooked to several machines in the room he was waiting outside of - was innocent, and Remy was confessing to the crime the dead man was blamed for.
He leant against the cool, sterile wall of the lab, and when he spoke again, it barely echoed, faint as mist.
“It’s all my fault.”
The clock ticked, apathetic to the events that just occurred. Jubilee was ordered to find Xavier, and Hank was trying to discern what exactly had caused Logan’s current condition. And Gambit was waiting outside the door, hands in his pockets to keep his air of nonchalance but hopelessly falling down a rabbit hole of self loathing. Part of him hoped that this would be the final straw - the event that makes everyone see sense, that they can’t keep using Logan as this unbreakable barricade, even if he agrees with it. The rest of him knew it wouldn’t be. It would never be. Logan would heal, and then they would dump him off to the next big bad and wait out the fallout. Again. And again. And again. And then Logan would be sitting alone in is room, again, trying to fix whatever of himself was left, carefully dabbing the blood away with a cloth, shirt pulled up-
Remy stood up straight and shook his head so fervently his hair slapped against his face.
That was an...interesting train of thought.
His face felt hot - that cold must be getting worse. He’d see Hank about that when Logan’s condition improved. Not that he cared. Nope.
LeBeau realised that it was rather ridiculous that he was still waiting. He needed to unpack, obviously, and then get on to more important things, like...playing pool, and...talking to Rogue! Yes, Rogue! Their current relationship wasn’t very clear, so maybe some playful flirting could tilt the cards in his favour.
Oddly, he didn’t feel too excited by all those things. Must be jet lag. Maybe some time alone would get him back to his usual self.
Nothing was wrong at all.