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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
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1,217
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1/1
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15
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1,669

Peace

Summary:

Remy got a cold

Work Text:

Peace
by Techie

 

Remy LeBeau sneezed again.

He looked down at his book, tried to ignore the annoying pressure in his sinuses...

And sneezed again.

With a startled curse, the threw the now-glowing book from his lap, and launched himself to the side just as a blast of abused plaster landed on his head.

He landed in the strong arms of the mutant known as Wolverine, who steadied him, setting the Cajun back on his feet. "Ya better talk to Hank, Gumbo." he rumbled, as Remy gave another violent sneeze. "I don't much like the idea of wakin' up fallin' through the library."

"Non. Remy fine." the younger mutant said, waving a hand in dismissal of that idea.

"Uh-huh." Logan lifted a bushy eyebrow and claimed the other chair, settling into it with easy grace.

As he had many times in that last weeks, Remy watched the Canadian out of the corner of his eye.

Compact, muscular, and powerful, the Wolverine was a capable fighter, good leader when needed, and oddly enough, one of the few people that seemed to understand the weary Cajun.

Picking up a book, Logan settled back, dropping his heels on the desk in front of him and opening the cover, setting down his beer on the small end-table next to the chair.

Curious, Remy glanced at the cover - and his fire-on-shadow eyes widened. Le Morte D'Arthur. In Middle English.

Remy fought down a slightly delerious giggle. Logan? Reading classical literature?

Now know I have fever. he thought to himself, plucking a book at random from the shelves.

They read in companionable silence, punctuated by Remy's occasional sneeze and Logan taking a sip of beer.

Despite his best efforts, Remy's eyes began to droop as he read Shakespeare, and sometime after Hamlet's tragic encounter with his father's ghost, he fell asleep.

 

 

Logan watched the young man sleep fitfully, aware of the aimless movements, the stiffness of his posture.

Then, as if a dam burst, Remy began to cry out in Acadian, voice horse and terrified, body thrashing, until finally he scrambled underneath the heavy old dest, pulling his long legs up to his chest, eyes wild with panic.

"Non, non! Ne me laissez pas, se vous plait! J'ai peur, se vous plait, il est si froid..."

Logan was next to the shaking thief in a moment, and crouched down to see the panic in his eyes.

"It's okay, Gumbo." he said, heart aching for the terrible aloneness - not simply lonliness, being outside of something, but aloneness, being cast out and rejected.

And he knew the feeling well. All too well.

"Non. Non, se vous plait...non non..." whispered agony, burning with icy memory.

Finally, Logan crawled in the cavernous space beneath the desk and gathered Remy into his lap, holding the trembling Cajun against him, smoothing his hair, offering comfort, solace - simple warmth.

Remy burrowed against that craved warmth, tears spilling onto the warm flannel of the older mutant's shirt, as Logan rocked him gently, offering more than understanding.

Empathy. Understanding.

Warmth.

Finally, Remy sank back down into a fitful sleep, and Logan held him, keeping the demons that plauged the younger man's sleep at bay.

 

 

Sometime before the sun rose, Logan eased his sleeping team-mate out of the dark space and carried him up to Remy's room, somehow got the door open, and the young man out of his ever-present trenchcoat.

Suppressing a curse at the lost weight and paleness of Remy's skin, Logan tucked him into bed, gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, and left quietly, hoping the Cajun would be all right for the night.

 

 

Remy woke to the last trail of sunlight tracking over his legs.

He had slept all day, according to the clock, a feat he had thought impossible.

Then he remembered - Logan, holding him.

Empathizing, not trying to use words to simplify or minimize the horrible ordeal, just understanding. Offering warmth, compassion.

Eyes open, staring at the cieling, he remembered how warm, how solid, how real Logan had been.

The light touch of his hand, sparking something deep within him.

A place walled off, inside his bruised and battered heart, wanting at some point to wake up, to cling to the sturdy Canadian, to never let go...

Remy's eyes flew wide.

Where dat come from? he thought to himself, turning on his side and curling into a ball.

Logan would gut him if he...what? If I what?

Tossing and turning, Remy finally realized the coldness of his room was keeping him awake.

His first thought was too fuzzy and ill-defined to make sense of, so he considered sneaking into Ororo's room, sleeping near the old rosebush that's smell was so reassuring.

Ororo was exausted after their last tangle with with the so-called "Friends of Humanity", and nursing a broken shoulder. She wouldn't turn him away, but Remy didn't want to chance disturbing her sleep.

The unfocused thought tried, once again, to form, and Remy pushed it aside. Then he thought of Rogue, but she didn't like anyone near her when she slept. Part of it was a deep fear of her powers hurting someone, the other part was a strong need for privacy.

The indistinct, unfocused thought finally rose stubbornly, and refused to go away, coming into blinding focus in one, shattering, uplifting instant.

 

 

Logan heard his door open, smelled the salt-ache-need of tears, didn't open his eyes. He kept his breathing steady and even as the bed dipped under another weight, then he rolled, pinning the very startled Remy LeBeau beneath his heavier body.

"What the hell ya doin' here, Remy?" he demanded, more startled than he wanted to admit. The kid was quiet as a cat.

Wide-eyed, the younger mutant started to look away, but Logan caught his chin and made him look into his eyes, saw the fear, smelled the hesitance.

"Remy - he never been...held like you hold him." managed the Cajun, voice uncharacteristically shy. "Not since...since...it hurt, mon ami. Remy not afraid of you, like he is the others."

Logan cocked his head, considering this.

"You honest with Remy. You...feel with m'." he whispered, and tears began to flow down the young man's cheeks despite his best efforts. "You only friend Remy have. Not mean to wake you...jus'...so cold, oui?"

"C'mere, kid." Logan tugged the Acadian gently so he rested on his muscular shoulder, and tucked the covers back around them both. "I unnerstand." And he did, dammit, he did. "Go ta sleep, I'll wake ya if ya start t' have a nightmare."

"You...be here when Remy wake up?" A little awed, shocked that voice. As if the idea of someone caring enough to hold him while he slept was a concept he had never considered.

"Yeah."

Remy nestled closer, hearing the reassuring thump-thump-thump of Logan's heart.

He closed his eyes.

The last thought was wistful, almost unformed.

Could it ever be...my heart?

Then he slept, and Logan held him.

It was quiet, soft, and there were no nightmares of snow and pain and hurting for Remy LeBeau...or Logan.

In one another, they had found peace.
 
  end