Middle of the Night, New Orleans, LA
His breath panted heavily as he lifted one heavy leg after the other, arms pumping back and forth in an effort to thrust himself forward. The air, itself, was thick and seemed to weigh him down even more. Running down Bourbon Street in wet, acid-washed jeans and a blue T-shirt, Remy felt the painful pokes of the occasional stones on the soles of his bare feet. A small groan and terrified squeal as he turned his head to look over his left shoulder and found the slow moving zombies and darkened shadows with glowing red eyes gaining on him at every turn.
Hordes of undead came in droves, around him, cornering him in an alleyway. There were closed doors on either side and he clawed and turned desperately at the round knobs but none would open. The streetlights started to dim and as he reached the last door of the alleyway, Remy panted harder. Crushing against the door, Remy turned as the ever-multiplying swarm of rotting, writhing flesh bore down on top of him. His mouth opened but no matter how widely, nothing came out but a squeak. Remy felt the boney fingers dig into his arms and chest, nails tore at his cheeks and thousands of dead eyes stared into the depths of his soul.
A face in the darkness came closer. The slimey, slippery skin had grayed and began sliding off of the mutilated skull. Long boney fingers reached for his left shoulder and gripped it tightly. "Arret! Non!" Remy pressed his right palm flat onto the chest of one attacker and pushed, sending -what he thought was- a devilish, decomposing zombie but, instead, was Logan. Logan had grabbed Remy's arms and tried desperately to shake Remy awake from his nightmare. He had sat up and heaved as he stared at the darkness, the moonlight piercing tiny cracks into the night, showing him little outlines at a time of what his real surroundings had been.
Logan sat on the floor with his back against the wall, at the foot of the bed. "What was that all about?" Remy hadn't used his kinetic energy yet, he was able to shove Logan off of him and completely off of the bed. As he got to his feet, he stepped closer and turned on the small table lamp on the stand beside Remy's side of the bed. Sitting down on the bed, Logan watched Remy's expression change from horror to confusion to deep grief and exhaustion. "What's goin' on, Rem?" His voice was soft, just above a whisper.
Remy shook his head and closed his eyes, trying not to look at Logan. "Just a dream."
In short intervals, Logan inhaled the salty and electric scent Remy had been giving off. The scent tingled on his tongue as his lips parted. His eyes narrowed, not because of the darkness but because of Remy's edginess that he thought he could almost view as a thin film around the younger mutant. "Dreams don't usually have audience participation, Remy. What's the matter?"
"Nev'amine." Turning the light off, lying back down and rolling away from Logan, Remy closed his eyes and hoped Logan took the hint to go back to bed.
Logan gave a deep sigh and gave in, getting up but leaning over and kissing Remy's temple, gently, before retreating back to bed. His nose had given him so many hints of how Remy truly felt yet covered up but, he said nothing. Every intake of air gave him more hints about what the Cajun was feeling but with every breath, it seemed to disappear even faster, as if Remy didn't want his secret to be revealed. He lay on his right side and closed his eyes, listening, feeling, forcing himself to relax even though he didn't want to.
Remy lay there with the lights out and Logan's even breathing coming from beside him. He rolled onto his back and stared at the darkness of the ceiling above. He was afraid to be asleep but even more afraid to be awake. Blinking tiredly, Remy sat up and reached for his jeans that he had draped over the end of the bed and slid them on. In standing up, he took a step forward and reached for the doorknob.
"Where ya goin'?"
"Can't sleep." Remy didn't bother turning around. In two quick movements, he opened the door and found himself in the dark hallway, heading towards the staircase to go downstairs. He finally came to rest in a plush arm chair, in the living room. The television had been tuned to reruns of a hospital show that focused on a crabby doctor with a limp.
~~
Logan rounded the corner to the kitchen and found Jubilee, sitting at the table, eating toast with grape jam and sipping Orange Crush soda. "Seen Gumbo, kiddo?"
"Um, if you could call it that." Jubilee had been chewing her bite of toast when she answered, holding a hand up to cover her mouth. "He came unteathered in the living room when the Prof. shook him awake, then came unglued and annihilated a box of Cheerios when his cell phone rang. Is he okay? You guys have a fight or something?" Finishing her toast, standing up and grabbing her paper plate she had used, she made her way over to the counter and placed the relatively clean plate on the toaster, for reuse.
Sighing, Logan watched her walk over to the counter and stand in front of the toaster. "Or something. Know where he went?"
Jubilee shook her head. "Just left in a huff and zoomed outta the garage like a bat outta Hell."
Logan turned and left the room without another word. Remy hadn't given a reason or left a note, yet it was unlike the Cajun to not say where he was going, or even that he was leaving.
"Perhaps, it's a 'family thing'?" A well-manicured voice said from behind him.
Logan stopped in the grand foyer and turned around to find Xavier moving his chair forward to greet him. "What?"
"Remy left early this morning, leaving a trail of psychic energy that is just now beginning to dull. How was his temperament, last night?" Xavier seemed genuinely concerned for the Cajun's mindset and after startling him earlier, he was beginning to think something was terribly wrong.
Shrugging, Logan had almost relived the prior night's musings and tension Remy had given off, making their small bedroom seem even smaller. "He was fine, just distant is all."
"But, you don't believe that, do you?" Xavier templed his fingers and rest his elbows on the arms of the chair.
Logan lowered his gaze for a moment. "Not exactly sure what I believe, right now. Ain't like him to just up and leave with no mention of where or why." The school bell rang, acknowledging that it was time for the next class to begin. "I got his class. If he's thinking he can do this on a regular basis, he's gonna be surprised at the outcome." Logan took two steps forward, heading down the hallway, to the last room on the right, Advanced Science but stopped as Xavier spoke to him.
"With the energy he left behind, Remy LeBeau has never let that slip, Logan. I have never been able to read his mind but, this morning was different. This morning was a flood of fear, anger, deep emotion and terrible sadness. It pained me to feel it, eventhough it was only a fraction of what he is going through. When and if he comes back, tread lightly. Remy LeBeau is more fragile than we may think." With his final words, he nodded and turned his chair around to join his own class for their lecture.
The final bell rang for the end of the school day and Logan felt worn out, not by teaching three classes of rowdy teenagers eager to get on with their Spring Festival preparations but, from the silent worry that occupied the back of his mind. If Xavier felt what Remy had been feeling as immensely as he said, Remy would be ashambles by the time he came back. However, to get him through the day, Logan forced himself to trust that Remy was only out to stretch his legs and play hookey.
~~~~~~~
The week had passed and Remy drove quietly back to the estate. Twice he had swerved into on-coming traffic and three times held up traffic at the light due to wandering thoughts. His hands fought flinches of wanting to fight or hold back a love from danger. His mouth betrayed him as whispers of answers to silent questions escaped his lips. He had grown older in the few days that passed, no sleep and constant worry threatened to bore ulcers into his stomach with every flinch he fought.
Logan had heard the sound of the garage door moving, from the dinner table. Over the voices and laughter from the children and other X-Men, he listened as familiar steps moved across the hall. Chewing his last bite of meatloaf, Logan excused himself and headed for the kitchen to place his plate in the sink for washing. His next move was to follow the sullen footsteps up the stairs but stop at his own closed bedroom door. His hand flinched at the doorknob but he listened to the hushed voice coming from behind the door. Heartbreak. Hushed breaths gasped for air, the wet scent of salty tears dripped through the oak door and small coughs of crying impaled his ears.
Remy sat on the end of the bed, bathed in darkness. His had dropped his monterey on the floor, beside him so that it draped over his dark blue fedora. He had hunched over to rest his elbows on his knees and bury his face in his hands. Soft sobs filled the air about him but he paused and quickly composed himself as the door opened and Logan stepped in. Remy didn't move, he couldn't bear to let anyone see his tears or hear the emotion well up inside his voice. With a sharp inhale, Remy waited as Logan carefully sat down beside him on the bed. Five minutes passed with neither saying a word. "I love you, Logan. I don't think I ever said it to you but, I love you."
"I know."
Remy stared down at his hands as the moonlight illuminated them. Fidgeting with his fingernails, he was unsure of how to explain where he had been or why he left the way he did. He listened to his own breathing and focused on each breath, the timing and consistency of each interval. Somewhere in his mind, he forced himself to believe that his sanity depended on such tasks and monitoring them precisely. "Do you?"
Logan fought off the urge to question Remy about where he had gone. He braced himself for the worst but hoped there was another reason for this sudden outburst of devotion. "What's the matter, Rem?" The scent that filled Logan's nose and numbed his senses was something he was not unfamiliar with; fear. It was almost overwhelming for him to be so close to this feeling and not react with something he'd regret later. So, he waited patiently for the answer to come.
After a long, deep sigh, Remy lifted his head and found a spot on the wall, in front of him to confess to. "Dere was a girl I grew up with. She had a pretty dress dat she loved and ribbons in her hair. She lived a few houses down from me. Her brothers went to my school but she was a few years younger dan me. Dey had dis old house dat had a window leadin' to de porch roof an' we'd sit up dere for hours, watchin' de sun go down, seein' de white burrs from de willows dance on de air. We'd make silly wishes and laugh about stories we'd make up about whatever we saw passin' by. Two kids, crazy wit' each other." Remy smiled as he recalled a specific memory of the roof and being bathed in golden light as the giant round orb of sunlight lowered into the horizon. With another breath, his demeanour changed again. "Den, one day she was different. No more smiles, no more laughs, no more sittin' on de roof tellin' stories."
"What happened?"
"She never said. Her brother said dere was some accident she was involved in and someone died."
Logan's brow furrowed and his leaned closer to Remy to listen better. "When was this?"
Remy inhaled and thought back, counting the years in his head. "She was about 14."
Nodding, Logan waited for Remy to continue.
"Anyway, she uh- she and I drifted apart an' for awhile, I lost track of her. Den, a week ago I started havin' nightmares, zombies an' voodoo an' all dese creepy faces starin' at me. Never understood dem until next mornin', got a call from her brother. He told me I better come quick." Remy bit his bottom lip to hold back the welling up of tears that threatened to fall.
Logan had a feeling what the next few words would be but hoped the outcome would be different.
Remy took a ragged breath and straightened, his back flinched for a moment as Logan's hand came to rest there. "I raced all de way back home. Ran down the driveway and up de stairs to her bedroom. I wanted ta see her sittin' on de roof, laughin' an' wavin' for me ta join her. Her other brother was dere, sittin' in de corner, by her dresser. He uh- he tol' me dat her demons had gotten de better of her. She'd been in and out of hospital an' had treatment after treatment but, she relapsed an' one day she was herself, ya know? Dat mornin' I got de call, I knew I'd never see her smile again." He sniffled and wiped his runny nose with the back of his shirt sleeve. "I thought she knew I loved her. Thought I could keep her safe." He choked on his last few words and the tears that had been held back by a prayer flooded his eyes and ran freely down his ashen cheeks. Remy crumpled there, moving from the edge of the bed to the floor, at Logan's feet.
Logan froze. The pain Remy had kept at bay for so long washed over him and took great force to push back the waves of nausea and despair. Logan felt lost at what to do next. He swallowed and wiped his own eyes of the dampness, feeling Remy wrap his arms around Logan's calves, resting his head on a hard knee and letting the emotions come freely. Reaching down and stroking Remy's back, Logan hushed and soothed as best he could but he wasn't sure what to say. If he spoke about the girl and her demons, Remy would pull away and become defensive. But, he felt that if he didn't say something, Remy might think him cold. "I'm sorry. Did they say what happened?"
It had taken Remy a few minutes to compose himself and get a few breath before he was able to answer. "Dey uh, dey said dat she dressed herself in her communion dress, did her hair in curls an' ribbons, den took some belladonna leaves. Her oldest brother found her, on her bed, with a picture of us sittin' on dat roof. She died durin' de night. She was so full o' life, Logan. Spunky, feisty an' bubbly. But, she died." Remy looked up into Logan's eyes and searched desperately for answers. "Why?"
"She died a long time ago, Rem. She was just survivin' and hopin' someone would take her hand. You didn't kill her, you loved her. Her family loved her. But, it was just too much for her and she must have given up." A hand brushed against Remy's cheek as Logan bent over to kiss his lover's forehead. "It wasn't your fault, Rem."
Remy sighed. "I shoulda been dere. I coulda done.... somet'ing."
"There was nothin' no one could have done. Don't let this be the last thought of her, Rem. You hold on to that thought of her an' you on that roof. Hold that memory tight." As Logan sat back up, Remy raised up onto his knees and kissed his lips, deeply, passionately.
"I love you, Logan."
"I love you, Remy."
Remy had taken several minutes to calm down. He washed his face with cool water and glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror. He hadn't slept in the past week and felt drained even more with the funeral and after service. He was exhausted and wanted to sleep for a month but everytime he closed his eyes, he saw her face, smiling over at him, face glowing from the fading sunlight. "Bonne nuit, cherie. Je t'aime," he whispered as he turned off the bathroom light and stepped back into the bedroom to see Logan waiting for him, on the bed.
They held each other and kissed and before long, Logan heard Remy's even breathing. He sat there, propped up against the maplewood headboard he had carved himself, and closed his eyes for a nap, himself.
End.