Title:  Origins, ch 9

Author:  Jukebox

Pairing:  Logan/Remy/Logan

Feedback:  Always appreciated to jukebox_csi@yahoo.com

Rating:  R for now, may go up later

 

Disclaimers:  Doing this only for therapeutic value.  Not making any money off it.  All the familiar characters in this fic belong to Marvel & Stan Lee.  I'm broke, so sueing me would be like trying to squeeze blood from a turnip.

 

Notes:  This is an AU because empathy and spatial awareness are just too cool for Remy not to have.  I want to thank my betas, LoganBerry and Lex, for making this story better than I ever hoped it could be.

 

Summary:  An AU version of Remy's introduction and subsequent joining of the X-Men

 

Warnings:  I don't know French or Cajun French, so my apologies to people of those areas if I butchered the language in this fic.  If I put any in this fic, it came from online translators and La library archives.  Because this is an AU, some of the characters in this story may seem OOC.

 

Words between / / are thoughts or mental speak

Words between * * are flashbacks

Words between ~ ~ are lyrics to any songs that may be used in the fic

 

CH 9

 

/842/

 

That’s how many pebbles there were embedded in the first textured tile in the far corner of the ceiling, directly above the head of the bed in Remy’s room.  Ruby orbs slanted towards the digital clock beside his bed and noted the reading of 3:15 am.  With a sigh, he turned back to the ceiling, deciding he needed to do something even more mundane to lull himself to sleep.  He had already tried counting sheep, but that scene kept turning into a mini-Disney movie complete with singing animals.  The vision had provoked a wistful grin from the thief.  /Not as jaded as most would t’ink./  He started counting the tiles in his room, using only the glow of moonlight peaking through his window as a guide.  His extraordinary night vision didn’t require much light to take in the surroundings.  He continued to count, but his mind wandered to the events of the day.

 

Logan had gotten under his skin and Remy didn’t know exactly what to make of it.  It wasn’t so much that he knew the older man was attracted to him; hell, he had been with enough people over the years to realize his looks were his greatest asset.  He’d had no need to use his charm, and had been keeping it under tight control, as was evident by the nagging, constant headache from keeping his shields in place.  Rather, it was that electric spark and his own reactions to the feral that irked him.  In all the times he had been with another, whether willingly or not, he had never felt this way; never felt so willing to drop his mask and let the big man feel the tingling sensation that tracked through his body when they… touched……

 

Damn, he lost count. 

 

Remy started again, trying to focus on the monotonous task of counting tiles that he hoped would bring his mind some peace.  Half-way through the second row, he wandered off again.  He chastised himself for actually opening up to the feral’s questions.  That was so unlike him.  Only once before had he ever done that, he thought as a twinge of pain rose over the loss of his adopted father and brother.  There was something about Logan that attracted him.  And what about the spark of electricity?  While it was true that the older man had metal within him, that metal was still surrounded by living flesh and blood; something which Remy just could not charge…or rather couldn’t charge before.  He recalled the blocks that his master had removed to help this little ruse play out more realistically.  Was he beginning to lose control again?  The thought sent a bolt of fear through his body, memories threatening to overwhelm him.  Everything he had done and endured, from the thieving and whoring to the severe punishments, were nothing compared to the possibility of killing again.  There was no doubt in his mind that if his power surged out of control enough to kill, that he would lose what little of his soul was left.  He made a promise to himself to end his own life before allowing his abilities to end others.

 

“Merde” he hissed to himself as he realized he would once again have to start over.  With renewed effort and determination, he focused everything on counting the tiles.  Ironically, the very exercise designed to help him fall asleep was undoubtedly causing the opposite; his mind focusing on the task with diligence.  After successfully counting the tiles, now he needed to calculate the amount of acoustic texturing that might be on the ceiling.  Assuming each panel had approximately 850 pebbles, multiplying that by the number of tiles.  /…carry de one/  Finally, he had his answer.  Pleased, he smiled with the thought that, if nothing else, several hours must have passed.  Casting a glance towards the side table, his smile faltered as he read the digital face blinking 3:27 am; twelve minutes passing in all this time.  With a groan, he flung an arm across his eyes.  It was one of those nights, where the mind races and sleep eludes.  Perhaps there were other things he could do?  He thought for a moment.  It was too late to take the Morlocks food; he would never make it to the city and back before the light of day.  Moving around downstairs was sure to invite the light-sleeping feral next door; something that Remy wasn’t ready to face yet.  He had no books to read; he really needed to remedy that fairly soon.  With a sigh, he decided to remain in bed and hope that sleep would claim him.  Before long, it did just that as he drifted off into a deep sleep.

 

He was awakened a scant two hours later by a heavy knock on the door.  At first he thought it was a dream.  But no, he hadn’t been asleep long enough to actually start dreaming.  The rapping sound came again and Remy slowly opened his eyes.  He staggered out of bed, heedless of his nude body, and made his way to the bedroom door.  Logan was just about to knock once more, his knuckles raised, when the door swung open to reveal a ruffled young man with a scowl on his face.

 

“QUOI?”  Remy demanded a little louder than he intended as he braced one hand on the frame and kept the other on the knob of the door, his eyes half closed with sleep. 

 

Logan blinked, then drew his eyes slowly down the figure in front of him.  To say he didn’t appreciate the picture was to say the Earth was flat.  As consciousness finally roused him and the realization of his nakedness dawned, Remy had the strange urge to cover himself.  He had never been ashamed of his body.  It was a tool to be used for gain just like any other and he was accustomed to the admiring stares he received.  But this was different and he frowned at the sudden onset of modesty. 

 

Determined not to let the man get under his skin again, he threw his chin up defiantly.  “Somet’ing I can do for you?”

 

Logan leered at the young man for a moment making his appreciation of the thief’s body all too clear.  “Maybe another time Cajun.  Right now, it’s time to start your session.  Be in my room in ten minutes.”  With that, he started to turn but paused as he glanced back.  “And just so ya don’t misunderstand, pants are required.”

 

Remy flushed with shame as he watched the back of the feral disappear into the other room.  It wasn’t like he meant to flash the older man.  He just wasn’t thinking in his groggy state.  Slamming the door closed, he gathered his things and headed for the showers.  “Salaud” he muttered to himself before moving down the hall.

 

Ten minutes later Remy found himself standing outside the older man’s room, his hair still damp from the wash.  The door was slightly ajar in invitation, so he pushed it open and slipped into the room.  Logan’s room was similar to Remy’s in appearance and furniture, yet there were some personalizations of interest.  His eyes were drawn to a katana sheathed in an ornate cover resting atop a black stand on the dresser.  There were various framed pictures about the walls depicting views of the Canadian mountains as well as oriental settings. 

 

Remy strolled over to the nightstand and carefully lifted a rose made out of paper.  “What dis?”

 

Logan was laying out two cushioned mats on the floor facing the dresser on which the sword stood when he paused to look at what the boy was holding.  “It’s origami.  That’s Japanese for paper folding.  Rogue….one of the students made it for me in art class.”

 

“Oh.  Kinda like making a paper airplane, neh?” he absently remarked as he studied the form.

 

Logan shrugged.  “Yeh, I guess.  Ready?” 

 

Remy gently lowered the flower back to its original place and moved over to where the feral was stretching.  With his arms folded across his chest in a defensive posture, he watched the older man.  “What you want me to do?”

 

“Stretch.”  Said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  So Remy began to do just that.  First he bent at the waist, lowering his arms slowly until his fingers laid flat on the floor while his legs remained straight.  He stayed that way through several deep breaths before shifting the legs apart to work the inner thighs.  After lunging a few times, going deeper and lower with each step, Remy stood upright and raised his arms above his head to reach for an imaginary spot on the ceiling.  His eyes remained closed the whole time, thus he failed to notice his shirt riding up to teasingly bare a pale strip of skin, much to Logan’s enjoyment.  The slow burn as his muscles pulled and loosened teetered between pain and pleasure, and Remy found it difficult to suppress a gratified moan.  Rather, he rotated his head languidly in circles around his shoulders. 

 

Slowly opening his eyes, he smirked as he watched the older man staring at him hungrily.  “What now, homme?”

 

“Now we need ya to find a focal point.”  At the boy’s obvious confusion, Logan continued.  “See that katana there?  I focus on that, clearing my mind of all external distractions until all I see is the sword, at which point I can begin to ride out any emotions, narrowing it down to reach a state of peace.” 

 

Logan looked around his room to search for a suitable object when Remy whipped out a card and held it in front of the feral.  “Will dis do?” 

 

Logan nodded and then glanced enquiringly at the younger man.  “A Joker?  You pick that because it’s a wild card?”

 

Remy smiled sadly, his eyes losing focus for a moment as he fingered the face of the card.  “Non.  It because he’s a fool.” 

 

The boy was in another world already and the session had only just begun.  Logan frowned and stepped forward to slowly remove the card from Remy’s fingers.  The movement shook the thief loose from self imposed hypnosis, and he merely winked at the feral as if to show the man that all was well.  Logan stood the card against the dresser drawer on the floor directly in front of the first pillow and instructed Remy to sit cross-legged.  For his part, he moved to the cushion directly behind the boy and joined him on the floor. 

 

“Now clear your mind and focus on the card.  If ya get distracted, then close your eyes and see the card in your mind.”

 

Remy rolled his eyes and stared at the joker.  What in the world this was supposed to accomplish was beyond him.  It seemed more a waste of time than anything else.  As if reading his thoughts, Logan explained.  “The purpose of this is to learn how to relax, to find peace in yourself.  It’s also a way to heal yourself emotionally.  By finding a balance within, ya’ll be able to control your powers better.”

 

The older man pressed a hand to Remy’s back.  Feeling the kid immediately tense at the unexpected contact, he yanked his hand away as if burned.  Clearing his throat he fought to keep his voice steady.  “Straighten the back up a bit, try to keep your muscles relaxed, drop your shoulders.”  He placed the tips of his fingers onto Remy’s shoulders gently pushing them down, determined not to increase the area of contact any more than necessary.  “Focus on your object and concentrate on your breathing.  Ya’ll start to pick up on things with your senses if ya just let yourself go.”

 

Remy tried to focus but he felt distracted by the ghost of the touch on his back and the heat of the man sitting closely behind him.  His breathing increased and his arms twitched slightly with nervous energy.

 

“Ya gotta try and relax.  Concentrate on the card.”  Logan murmured.  Remy noted how surprisingly gentle the big man’s voice could be. Logan continued.  “Trace the outline of the picture with your eyes, until you can see it in detail when your eyes are closed.”  Logan paused a moment and was pleased to see the boy’s arms relax into stillness.  “Now, think about breathing.  Inhale through your mouth slowly, let your lungs fill right to the bottom.”  Remy breathed in. “hold it ‘til the count of four, then exhale it slowly through your mouth.”  He followed the instructions, listening to Logan as he too kept to the steady pattern of breaths.  A stillness descended on the room, only the deep repetitive breathing of the two men broke the silence.  “Now”, Logan finally spoke, “try to breathe deeply in through your nose, out through your mouth.”  Remy complied, the smell of feral filling his nostrils and sending a shiver down his spine.  Driving his focus away from his instructor, he stared harder at the card.  Logan murmured his approval in a soft low voice as he heard the kid catch onto the technique instantly.

 

Remy focused ever deeper and started to drift, relaxing despite himself.  /Must keep hold of my shields./  He became acutely aware of the sound of his breathing, the wind lightly blowing just beyond the window pane, and the proximity of the man sitting directly behind him.  For his part, Logan was having difficulty centering his attention on his focal point.  His nostrils flared as he took in the scent of the boy in front of him.  He slowly lowered his eyes to the auburn mane, noticing the sheen and silkiness as it fell across the boy’s shoulders.  His eyes drifted lower to take in the curves of his neck as it blended into the shoulder and the sharp protrusions of the blades in Remy’s back.  /No wonder the kid was stealing food; he’s nearly skin and bone./  Not that it bothered Logan to see that skin and bone.  His line of vision followed the spine down to the curve of the boy’s buttocks and hips, and he found his throat running dry.  He swallowed hard and tried to concentrate.  There was no way he was going to be a decent teacher of meditation techniques if he couldn’t rein in his own hormones.  The reactions he was having to this newcomer were strange.  He hadn’t felt this way about another since……

 

Logan jerked his chin up and forced himself to concentrate on the katana.  Regulating his thoughts as he had learned to master so long ago, he listened to the kid and smiled as he recognized the trance-like quality and steady breathing.  It might not take as long to teach Remy how to take advantage of the relaxation techniques as he initially thought, but Logan would enjoy it for as long as it did.

 

He managed to meditate after all, despite the delicious distraction in front of him.  After some time passed, he took one last deep breath.  Speaking low and soft, he began to bring the boy back.  “Let your mind begin to find its way back to the room, focus on the things around ya; the noises outside, the clock ticking.  Make a ball with your fists, squeeze them tight and release, flex your fingers and feel the blood flow.  Feel your body become heavy again, roll your head and feel the joints working.”  Logan watched, transfixed by the boys fluid, almost balletic movements as he stretched out from the meditation.  Remy breathed deep one final time, sighing from the calmness that flowed through his body.  He hadn’t been this relaxed in a long time.  Logan shifted to stand.  “That’s enough for today.”

 

“Oh chere, I was just getting warmed up.”  The boy grinned as he turned to face his instructor.

 

“You’re supposed to meet with the Professor after ya eat.  And it’s your turn to cook breakfast.”  

 

Logan rose deftly to his feet and without thinking, put his hand out to help the boy up.  The two locked eyes as Logan realized his mistake, and he quickly brushed his hand down the side of his jeans, turning away with a scowl on his face.

 

Remy climbed slowly to his feet, rolling his shoulders in the process.  “Seem like it always my turn to cook, hehn?”  The sarcastic remark was made without any heat and he noticed the side of Remy’s mouth quirk upwards. 

 

“Yeh, well that’s because ya can.”  Logan snorted.  “Unless, of course, ya want me to burn ya some bacon.”  He chuckled and began to gather up everything as Remy moved towards the door. 

 

At the threshold, Remy stopped and turned back to the older man.  “Logan?”  The feral paused for a moment and looked up at the ruby orbs piercing him.  Remy ducked his head to let his hair fall forward and hide his face.  “T’anks, mon ami.”  With that, he turned and slipped out of the room.

 

Logan simply stared at the vacated spot for a moment, then smiled.  “Anytime kid.”

 

End ch 9

**************** 

on to part 10

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