Work Text:
Daylight.
by Kyrri
With weary eyes, Remy watched as the first rays of morning spilled through the open blinds of the window, pushing back the darkness and igniting the world with wavering lines and dancing colour.
Fire… it was moving towards him, laughing and dancing in the daylight. Playing across the carpet, burning steadily, but not consuming anything it touched.
Life sparked in red on black eyes as Remy watched the kinetic potential of the very air burn around him. Wavering lines of blue flame encircled his wrist, trailing across the curves of an upturned palm as he stared in morbid fascination.
The flames mesmerized him, stroking across his palm, seeming to almost plead with him to give them just that little extra nudge they needed to turn their potential to reality.
Comforting blue fires turned to purple rage as he watched, his eyes going wide as his mind screamed recognition at him, bringing him from a pleasant half-doze to full wakefulness.
There was just enough time for Remy to roll off the bed and free himself from the tangle of bedclothes, before the very molecules of the air above the bed exploded. Dust rained down at him as he lay on the ground, staring up at the ceiling.
The wavering lines of flames were still there, dimmed, but still shimmering in the light of day. He groaned before closing his demon eyes, refusing to watch as the flames sparked and strengthened again as they undoubtedly would.
"Merde," he cursed under his breath, before rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself to his knees. How could he have forgotten to close the blinds? Cursing himself as the worst kind of fool, he opened his eyes a crack, trying to locate the window in the blaze of dancing light and shifting colour.
Deciding that it was useless to even try to find the window in the fiery confusion of morning, he shut his eyes again and felt his way back into bed, pulling the thick bedding and extra blankets over his head, before he dared to open oversensitive, red eyes again.
The darkness beneath the covers soothed him. With sharp eyes, he picked out every fold of the blanket before finally coming to rest on his hands. He stared at them, fear starting to gnaw at the back of his mind. Where were his gloves? What if he lost control of his powers again and burned something?
His control was steadily deteriorating. He hadn't been in control ever since he came back from Antarctica.
Not that any of the X-Men noticed. They didn't seem to see that he was living like a vampire and if they did see, they didn't care. The shadows wavered before his eyes, seeming to shimmer in the semi-darkness as the flames of potential burned across his hands again, another power spike robbing him of even the comfort of shadows.
The blanket started to glow a purple hue as the fires surrounding his hands licked at it, turning the blanket into another explosive. "Non!" he cried as he kicked the blanket into the air and braced himself for the coming explosion.
More dust and plaster rained down on him after the charge had taken its course. "Merde," he cursed again, there was no chance that the X-men wouldn't have heard that. His ears were ringing – you must be deaf not to have heard it!
And there it was a second later… a knock on the door and a yelling Canadian. "What the hell ya doin' in there, Gumbo?" Gambit groaned into his pillow, he didn't need this right now. This day was bad enough without him having to explain himself to Wolverine.
"Nothin', Wolverine," he yelled back as he rolled over to stare up at the scorched ceiling. The fires had settled to nothing more than dimly visible coals, but Remy knew they would be back in full force later. "Go `way." Not perhaps the most intelligent thing to say to Logan if you wanted to get rid of him, but Gambit really wasn't at his best.
A sudden wave of concern bombarded his mind from the other side of the door, making him gasp. He raised the tatters that remained of his mental shields up against the feelings, hoping that they would hold enough to keep his empathy in check, but he could still feel the lightest touch of Logan's emotions.
"Sorry, kid, no can do." Logan answered as the doorknob turned and the door was pushed open, causing more light to stream into the room from the corridor. Remy groaned, throwing his arm across his eyes to block out the growing light. First the window and now it appeared as though he had forgotten to lock the door as well.
"What you want, homme? Why won' you leave Remy alone?" he asked as the door clicked shut behind Wolverine.
The brush of boots against the carpet and the sound of blinds being pulled shut was his only answer.
Gambit risked a glance at the window, turning his head so that he could let one red eye peek beneath his shielding arm. Logan was staring up at the scorch marks on the ceiling before looking at the tatters of blanket that had escaped the blast and lay torn upon the bedroom floor.
His gaze shifted to the Cajun, blue eyes meeting one glowing red on black coal. "Well, homme?" Remy continued, as if there were nothing amiss.
Wolverine took a step towards him, a look of disbelief in the storm clouds of his blue eyes. "What's going on, Remy?" Blue eyes flickered back to the burn marks, before focussing on the thief again.
Concern washed over Remy. Concern and fear, mixed with a shock that he knew was his own. Logan cared…
One red eye slid shut again as he focussed on reconstructing his shields. It was simply impossible – Wolverine couldn't possibly care about what happened to him. The concern receded; becoming nothing more than a whispered breath against his shields as they once more fell into place. He relaxed a little when his emotions were his and his alone once more.
A strong calloused hand closed over his arm and his mind was flooded with emotions – concern, fear, but now it was tinged with a hint of anger and something else. Something Remy couldn't put a name to.
"Non, don' touch me!" Remy yelled, recoiling from the mental onslaught. He freed himself from Logan's grasp as he pulled away, his flight ending in the corner on the other side of the room.
"Remy?" Logan asked, staring at him in shock.
Confusion, fear, the ever-present concern, but no trace of anger left as Gambit read his emotions like an open book, even as he tried to bring the shattered shields up again.
Empath that he was, Remy responded to those emotions even as he tried to block them out. "Just don' touch me, Logan, s'il vous plait," he pleaded.
"I'm not gonna hurt ya, kid." Logan replied, lifting his hand slowly, palms facing outwards and taking a step forward.
"Non!" Remy yelled, "Stay back, don' come closer."
"I already promised ya I'm not gonna hurt ya. What more do ya want?" Frustration joined the list of emotions that emanated from Wolverine.
"Logan, you don' mean to hurt Remy. He know that, but you hurt `im without meanin' to. Don' come closer, s'il vous plait."
Logan stared at him, emotion churning inside him. The Cajun lifted his hands to his temples and closed his eyes as the confusion, frustration, concern and hint of anger sparked through his mind again.
"You could kill an empath without ever coming closer than six feet, you know `dat, Logan? Stop bein' angry at me already, will you? Don' think I could take that right now. Your emotions even worse to have to feel when you're angry." And for the life of him he didn't know why he had said it. He'd been hiding the fact that he had a mental gift for so long it had become second nature – so why come clean with Wolverine?
The shock that radiated from Logan caused Remy to open his eyes again to look at the Canadian. Wolverine was staring at him in astonishment, the concern in his eyes briefly eclipsed as he
processed what Gambit had told him.
Logan mouthed the word `empath', before shaking himself and looking at the Cajun consideringly, before glancing back at the scorched ceiling and looking at Gambit again.
"Ya should let the Professor help ya, kid, if yer having trouble with yer powers." Logan said softly, not daring to move any closer to the auburn-haired thief.
"Gambit don' need his help. He don' want it!" Remy replied venomously, finally managing to force Logan's emotions out of his mind, drawing on a rage that was his and his alone. A rage that came of an old fear.
`Never trust, Remy. You'll only get hurt that way.' Gambit thought to himself. Gambit was the strong one, the one who'd pull him through this. His mask was his only protection here and Remy knew only that mask could save him.
Logan looked from him to the scorched ceiling and back again, disbelief clearly written on his face. Those blue eyes filled with swirling storm clouds as he forced his anger away. Letting only his desire to help the Cajun remain.
"Remy, don't do this! Ya need help and ya know it. Ya haven't been out of this room in ages. I don't think I've seen ya in the light of day for at least a week. It's no way to live. Let the Professor help ya!"
"Non! Don' need help. Been doin' been on me own!" Gambit replied stubbornly.
Logan's frustration turned to anger again. Storm clouds swirling madly in blue eyes as he stared at Remy and then… the storm broke and there was nothing Wolverine was going to do about it this time. He was going to help the kid whether the kid wanted it or not.
He lunged forward and caught the Cajun's wrist in a firm grasp and proceeded to drag him from the room before Remy could react at all. But after the initial shock wore off, Gambit started to fight back, desperately trying to free himself, but Logan's grip was too strong to break and the man seemed oblivious to the thief battering at him with his free hand.
"Stop struggling Remy, it won't do ya any good. Yer gonna visit the Professor whether ya want to or not. It's for ya own good, kid." Logan said, bodily hauling the kid towards the corridor, grabbing
sunglasses off the dresser with his free hand as they passed it on their way to the door.
"For my own good." Remy repeated sarcastically. "Sure it's in Gambit's best interests if he blows up the mansion and himself too, because you dragged him out of his room where he couldn' hurt nobody and made him go on a walkabout." Remy stopped struggling, however, seeming to have resigned himself to his fate.
Wolverine just shook his head, turning back to the Cajun only long enough to press the pair of sunglasses he had grabbed of the dresser into the kid's hand before turning back to the door and opening it.
Remy flinched as the light hit his oversensitive eyes, the patterns of the kinetic potential dancing in front of his eyes as Logan proceeded to drag him down the corridor.
They were quite the spectacle. The short Wolverine growling as he dragged a tall Cajun dressed only in sweatpants and a T-shirt through the long hallways of the mansion in the early morning-hours.
"Logan, don' do this. Let Remy go. He don' need to see the Professor." Remy pleaded softly, but it only caused Logan to increase his pace and tug harder at his wrist.
Logan's worry was still battering at his shields, so much so, that he didn't notice that they were gathering quite a following. As they drew nearer to the end of the corridor, Warren's door opened. Remy's mind blazed with sensation. He could feel the winged mutant's anger, his hatred as they moved passed his room. Angel's scorn for him covered all trace of the concern Logan's felt.
Remy's hands began to glow as Warren's anger became his, and the pieces of his shields that he had managed to retain fell away completely. He lost himself in that anger. The fire of it seared its way into his soul and his body got rid of it the only way it knew how.
Logan's yelp of pain brought him back to the present. Remy immediately withdrew the charge and pulled away from Logan. He looked at the scorched patches of skin in horror. Then as the skin slowly started to heal, he turned and sprinting back down the corridor.
He didn't even notice the shocked faces as he pushed his way passed those of the X-Men who had been trailing behind them.
He ran all the way back to his room, slamming it shut behind him. Not hearing Logan's shouted reassurances that everything was all right. Not feeling the concern that Logan felt for him.
Remy wasted no time. Turning the key in the lock, he headed for the closet and got dressed in a record time. He snatched his trench from where it hung over a chair, grabbed the duffel he packed weeks ago. He had contemplated leaving for a long time and had found a reason to put it off every time. But now…
The doorknob turned as Logan tried to push his way inside, but was halted by the lock.
"Remy?" Wolverine called through the door. "It's alright, come on. I'm fine. Open the door."
Remy looked at the door once before glancing at the window. Making sure that his sunglasses were secure he pulled the blinds back, opened the window and slipped outside, sliding soundlessly down the drainpipe.
Logan was still standing outside Remy's door, and quickly losing patience. "Remy, if you don't open up I'm gonna break the door down!" When no answer came from inside the room, Logan released his claws. "You asked for it!" he told him and cut through the lock. The door swung open as Wolverine pushed inside.
There was no sign of Remy. The closet door hung open, revealing the fact that most of the kid's clothes where gone. A quick glance to the window confirmed it – Remy was gone.
Wolverine growled under his breath, before turning round and heading towards the garage, practically bowling Cyclops over as he raced down the stairs, ignoring Scott's yell to slow down and quickened his pace.
He skidded to a halt inside the garage, just in time to see Remy's bike turn the corner as the kid raced away from the mansion at breakneck speed.
`This was just perfect', he thought dryly.
TBC?