SquidgeWorld Archive

Never Quite Free
by heyjupiter

Logan tapped his foot anxiously and tried not to throw up. Remy and Jean were good pilots, and the Blackbird handled a lot more smoothly than some of the planes Logan had been in. But still, he hated flying. And in this case, he wasn't too thrilled about what he expected to find when they landed. Xavier thought that some Friends of Humanity fucks were torturing some poor mutant kid. The kid was apparently a telepath of some kind and had somehow managed to call out to Xavier, who had insisted that a small team go after him right away. He'd said the kid was being tortured by just a few humans; said it would be easy for them to infiltrate their base and rescue the kid. He hadn't even sent the full team, just Wolverine, Gambit, and Jean--a trio who would, in fairness, be capable of taking on pretty much anything any humans had to throw at them, but Logan still wondered why he was going instead of their fearless leader Cyclops. Not that Logan especially wanted to miss a fight--he was just grumpy about the flight, and about the interruption of poker night. At least the kid was pretty close, at least when you travelled by jet; they were headed for rural Maryland.

"We're close," Jean said. Her voice was terse.

"We can set down in that field," Remy said. "That a good spot?"

"Yes," Jean said. "I think they're keeping him in that red barn."

"Poor kid," Remy said. "Let's get him out of there."

They disembarked from the jet and moved briskly toward the barn. A couple FOH guys were outside patrolling. One of them held a walkie-talkie up to his face, but Gambit sent a charged card right at the radio before the guy said anything. The three of them made short, quiet work of the FOH guards before slipping in.

The energy was strange inside. Gambit, face drawn, said, "This don't feel right."

Wolverine sniffed the air and gagged. It smelled like horseshit, old blood and human filth. He felt the psychic energy too. The kid was projecting pure pain and fear.

Jean said, "God in heaven." She said, "Gambit, you feel it too?"

He shrugged. "Probably not as strong as you feel it, but--mm, no, this ain't right."

"Let's go find this kid," Wolverine said, popping his claws. He felt rage building inside him, that these assholes thought they could just do whatever they wanted to this mutant kid.

Cautiously, they made their way further into the barn. They walked down a dark aisle. The first half of the barn actually had horses in it, and they smelled none too fresh. But in the barn's back room--"Jesus Christ," Wolverine said, processing the sights.

Gambit turned into a corner and threw up. Wolverine followed and put a hand on his shoulder. "Non," Gambit said, wiping his hand with the back of his mouth. "Sorry, just... mon Dieu."

The mutant kid had once had vivid orange skin, but most of it was covered with wounds. He was blindfolded and gagged, though his psychic projections seemed to be coming through stronger. He was chained to a wooden pillar. Jean's eyes were filled with tears. The FOH clearly had not been expecting too many visitors, since they only had a few guards, and they'd been drinking.

Gambit moved faster than Wolverine had ever seen and knocked out the drunk humans with several well-placed cards. Wolverine carefully cut down the kid's chains. He held the kid in his arms, removed the blindfold and gag and said, softly, "Hey, kid, you're all right."

The kid moaned and sent out more terrified projections. Jean walked up to them and carefully placed her hands on his head. She closed her eyes and Wolverine knew she was trying to psychically calm him. But she shrieked and pulled away. Wolverine took deep breaths, trying his best to tamp down his visceral reaction to the projections. Gambit was still staring wide-eyed at the kid.

"L-let's go," Jean managed to spit out. "I--I can give him some medical treatment on the jet..."

Wolverine headed back the way they came, the battered kid in his arms. Gambit and Jean stumbled along behind them, and Wolverine heard Gambit retch again. Logan wanted to comfort his lover, but he knew Remy could handle himself better than the kid at this moment, no matter how rough this was for him. The four of them made it back onto the jet, and Jean gave the kid the best field medicine she could. She occasionally spoke to him, but Logan got the feeling there was more telepathic conversation happening. Logan hovered, seeing if Jean needed any help with her patient. She cleaned off his back, revealing that the kid had been brutally whipped.

"Barbaric," Jean muttered.

Remy was sitting in the jet's middle row of seats, his head bowed. Logan glanced between the mutant kid and Remy and sighed.

Jean looked up at him and sent him a telepathic message: Logan, go check on Remy. Kyle and I will be fine, and Remy's... taking this hard.

Logan nodded and said, "Let me know if you need anything."

Of course. Thank you, Logan, Jean's mental voice returned.

Logan walked up the jet's aisle and put an arm around Remy, who sighed. "Sorry Remy wasn't much help back there," he murmured.

"Hey, darlin', we were fine. You did fine," Logan said, gently rubbing Remy's back.

"Remy thought..." Remy said, shaking his head.

Logan was no psychologist but he hadn't missed Remy's shift to third-person, and doubted it meant anything good about Remy's current mental state. "You thought what?" Suddenly, Logan stilled his hand on Remy's back. Logan had seen for himself the scarred flesh, which Remy had once attributed to "Victor Creed, mostly." It had been clear that Remy did not want to talk about where his scars had come from, and Logan respected that. But Remy had also made vague allusions to a childhood on the streets, until Jean-Luc LeBeau had adopted him. Softly, Logan said, "What happened to you, Remy?"

Remy sighed. "It don't matter, Logan, it was a long time ago. Remy should--should have been able to--Remy shouldn't even feel that kid's projections as bad as you and Jean, 'cause of my powers."

Logan tightened his arm around Remy. "Don't matter, Remy. I know better than most--a bad memory can be just as powerful as any weapon. And you did just fine. You took out those FOH assholes with no problem. And if somebody hurt you when you was a kid--" Logan sucked in a breath, finding himself almost overcome with rage at the thought.

Remy smiled and gently kissed Logan. "It was a long time ago, cher," he repeated. "How's this kid doing?"

"His name is Kyle, apparently," Logan said. "I--I don't know. Jean said everything was under control."

Jean approached them and sat down across from them. "I ended up sedating him, which isn't ideal, but--he's been very traumatized. I put dressings on his wounds. I think the worst of them could use stitches when we get back to the mansion, but he's stable for now."

"Ah," Remy said. His brown eyes looked haunted.

Jean said, cautiously, "Remy--I can fly the Blackbird without a co-pilot, if you--"

"Non, cherie, Remy can fly the 'bird just fine," Remy said. Catching Jean's raised eyebrows, he added, "Ah--I'm feeling much better now that--his name is Kyle?" Jean nodded, and Remy said, "Now that Kyle is--asleep."

"Of course," Jean said gently. "Well, then, we should take off. The sooner we can get Kyle back to the mansion, the better."

"D'accord, Jeannie," Remy said. Logan gave him another kiss before letting his lover up to the cockpit with Jean. Remy gave him a cocky smile, though Logan knew Remy's face well enough to know that it was a mask. Logan sighed inwardly and decided to sit back with Kyle, just to keep an eye on him. The kid looked bad, and it made Logan furious.

Despite Logan's rage and Remy's discomfort, they all made it back to the mansion in one piece. Jean whisked Kyle down to the medbay, but not without telepathically hissing at Logan, Take care of Remy. If he needs something to help him sleep, let me know.

All right, Logan thought back, though he was a little confused. Remy didn't seem that bad to him. They went down to the locker room and took off their black leather uniforms, only to go up to Remy's bedroom and strip off their street clothes for bed. Remy looked up at Logan with those dull, haunted eyes and Logan winced.

"Lie down, darlin'," Logan said. "On your stomach." Remy quietly complied. Logan got up to get massage oil from the bathroom. He returned and gently rubbed some of it into Remy's back. Remy let out a small, content sigh, and Logan continued his massage. He worked on Remy's sore muscles and he softly traced Remy's scars. Logan had always been fascinated by Remy's scars, since Logan himself was incapable of forming any. It was as if Remy carried his life story around on his skin. The oldest, faintest scars looked like they could well be from a whip. Logan fought to hold back his rage; it wouldn't help Remy now. Instead he worked on releasing the tension stored in his knotted muscles.

Logan massaged Remy's back until his lover was practically melted into the bed. Barely coherent, Remy managed to mumble, "C'est bon, cher." Logan smiled and finished the massage with a few pounding fists and a gentle caress. Given Remy's relaxed, sleepy state, Logan thought he'd have no problem sleeping through the night.

He was wrong, though, and a few hours later Logan sat up in bed, confused about what had awakened him until he looked over and saw that Remy was flailing and mumbling in Cajun French. Logan carefully stroked Remy's hair and murmured to him until Remy's eyes fluttered and he awoke. "Hey, darlin', you're all right," Logan soothed. Remy had nightmares often enough that Logan knew he generally felt sheepish upon waking. Tonight, though, Remy's eyes filled with tears and he buried his face against Logan's chest. Logan was startled, but he quickly began to do whatever he could to console Remy. Logan didn't mind it, really. It was kinda nice to be needed, and he knew that Remy had helped Logan with more than his fair share of nightmares.

"Just a dream, Remy," Logan said.

"Mm," Remy said.

Logan stroked Remy's silky hair and said, "Hmm. Not just a dream, was it?"

"Ah, Logan, you know things ain't good for kids on the street. Remy don't usually think about it."

Logan hesitated. He squeezed Remy's shoulders and got out of bed. Remy blinked at him as Logan pulled on workout clothes.

"Logan?"

"Get up, Remy."

Remy tilted his head quizzically, and Logan said, "Look, Remy, way I see it--if you wanted to talk about this, you'd be talking. You're not, and that's fine. But you gotta do something. So let's go down to the Danger Room."

Remy ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. "Guess Remy's heard worse ideas." He shakily climbed out of bed and pulled on sweats and a gray Xavier's T-shirt. Logan idly wondered just how much clothing with his name on it Xavier had ordered for the school before sliding his arm around Remy's shoulders and guiding him downstairs.

The DR scanned their retinas and let them in, and Logan programed a moderate workout against a team of virtual FOH goons. Logan kept a careful eye on Remy, who seemed to be doing all right. After Remy warmed up, he began to lose himself in the physical exertion of fighting. Logan fought alongside him. He popped his claws and shredded the FOH assholes the way he'd oh-so-carefully prevented himself from doing earlier that evening. God forbid he should kill some child-torturing asshole. He'd just have to knock out extra virtual assholes, and right now it felt just as good. The unconventional therapy seemed to be working pretty well for Remy, who always looked gorgeous when his eyes glowed red with his power. Abruptly, the DR flickered and their virtual companions faded, taking the glow in Remy's eyes with them.

"The hell?" Logan grunted.

The door to the DR slid open and Scott walked in, frowning at them. "Little late for a workout, isn't it?" he asked.

Remy gazed down at the ground and said nothing, which was extremely unlike him. Startled, Scott looked at Remy and then at Logan. Logan shrugged and said, "We had, uh, a little energy to burn off after--that mission tonight."

Scott bit his lip. "Yeah. That kid was--in rough shape."

"How's he doing?" Remy asked softly, still looking at the ground.

"Better," Scott said. "Jean patched him up as best she could. Think he just needs some time to recover."

"Does he have any family?" Remy asked.

"Not--not that he mentioned. I think the Professor is looking into it."

Remy nodded. Uneasily, Scott said, "Well, I'll leave you to it, then, but remember it's a school night."

"How could we ever forget a thing like that?" Logan growled.

Scott shook his head and left the DR, casting one last glance at Remy over his shoulder. After the door slid shut behind Scott, Logan walked over and put his arm around Remy. "You're all right, darlin'. You wanna keep going?"

"Yeah... for a bit, maybe."

"Long as you want, Remy." Logan powered up the DR again and the two men again fell into the easy rhythm of fighting side by side. They made an excellent team; they barely had to speak to communicate their intentions to each other. And so Logan knew exactly when to shut down the DR, when Remy had reached his limits. Remy looked exhausted, but peaceful.
"All right, Remy, let's get a quick shower and hit the hay, all right?" Logan coaxed.

Remy nodded and followed Logan to the locker room. Logan couldn't help but get turned on by Remy's naked, wet, body, but he didn't think Remy was in the appropriate mental state for sex just now. So Logan kept his hands to himself and then guided the clean, sleepy Remy back up to bed. The clock on the bedside table said 3:49am, and Logan asked, "What time's your first class tomorrow?"

"Ten," Remy replied.

Logan nodded and set the alarm. "Y'can sleep through breakfast, then, grab something from the kitchen later."

"Like the way you think, cher," Remy murmured. He curled up against Logan's chest and Logan gently stroked his lover's sleek, scarred back, trying to think of something to say to Remy. He knew he wasn't so good with words, but he wanted to try.

Finally he said, "Y'know, darlin', whatever happened in the past, that kid Kyle--he's got a family now, one that will keep him safe. And so do you."

"Mm," Remy said contentedly. He rubbed his cheek against Logan's chest, and Logan listened as his breathing grew slow and even. They both slept soundly until the damn alarm went off in the morning. Logan watched Remy blearily prepare for another day of teaching the mansion's collection of young misfits how to appreciate art history and found that he couldn't keep a smile off his face.

"You're in a good mood," Remy observed.

Logan shrugged. "Hey. We all lived to fight another day."

Remy turned his dazzling smile on Logan. "Oui, mon coeur, we did, at that." He bent down to kiss Logan before saying, "I'll see you at lunch, then?"

"Course," Logan said.

end