Along the Way
by Jennie

I woke slowly, reluctant to leave sleep behind. To be held, kept safe and
warm, has always been my dearest wish. At least I'd had this for a time, if
only in my dreams.

Wait. It wasn't a dream at all. Someone *was* holding me. I could feel the
rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and hear and feel the steady thump of his
heart as my head lay against his chest. His very hairy chest. Carefully, I
opened my eyes, and, yes, I was definitely embraced by a pair of massive arms.

"Take it easy, Remy. Ya get any more tense and ya'll snap."

Who? Whaa-? On the edge of panic, I vaguely recognized that voice.

Wolverine? Logan! Yes, Logan was there with me. And... he cared for me.
Had taken care of me last night. Fed me, reassured me, held me... made love
with me.

I lifted my head and looked up into his face. He smiled - *smiled*! - at me.
 

"How ya feelin' this mornin', kid?" he asked, gently stroking my hair. I
remembered then his fascination with my long, auburn hair. "Did ya sleep
well?"

"Oui. I slep' jus' fine," I told him, surprised that it was the truth. For
the first time since Antarctica, I had; I'd slept deeply and peacefully.

He yawned, stretching, and rubbed his warm hands along my back. "Ya hungry?"

My stomach grumbled and he chuckled. "Guess so." Another yawn, and he made
a move to pull away from me. "'M just goin' ta make ya somethin' ta eat,
Rem. Not goin' far, darlin'."

"Non," I protested, reluctant to lose the moment. "Jus' another minute.
Don' leave yet."

His warm amusement washed over me as he indulged my request. After several
minutes, he gave a snort of feigned impatience. "Got plenty of time fer
this, kiddo. Right now, ya need to eat. Gotta get yer strength back,
y'know. I have plans for ya."

"Plans?" I was fascinated and titillated. "What kind of plans?"

"Let me feed ya. If ya finish yer breakfast, I'll give ya a demonstration."

Oh. In that case... I rolled to the side, letting him rise from our
makeshift bed on the floor. He was naked. Somehow, that fact had slipped my
mind. Grinning, I watched as he climbed to his feet. "Dat's a good look for
y', Wolvie."

"Shaddup," he grouched. "And don't call me that."

For the first time in forever, I felt like laughing. So I did. "'Kay. No
more 'Wolvie'. Won' call you dat no more. Promise."

With a growl, he grabbed his jeans from the floor and stalked off towards the
kitchen. "Impertinent kid. Wolvie, my ass! My name is Wolverine - or Logan
- NOT 'Wolvie'!"

"Je comprends... Wolvie." I made it up the stairs before he came storming
back into the living room.

"I'm gonna make ya pay fer those smartass ways, Gumbo," he yelled after my
rapidly retreating form.

"I can hardly wait, cher."

***

After my shower, I dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. As the appetizing
scents of food reached me, my stomach growled again. Whatever Logan had
cooked smelled wonderful. Hurriedly, I descended the stairs.

"Hope yer hungry, darlin'," Logan greeted me from his seat at the table. He
watched my reaction closely. The plate, loaded with scrambled eggs and
toast, made my mouth water in anticipation. He'd set the table nicely. No
frills, but everything I might need was present: jam, salt, pepper, even milk
and sugar for the cup of tea he'd set next to my place.

Damn. A domestic Wolverine! Would wonders never cease? Of course, every
aspect of this softer, kinder Logan had been unexpected to say the least.

I blinked. Shook my head and blinked again. Reaching down, I pinched my
thigh.

"Ouch."

"What the hell ya doin' kid?"

"T'ought I mus' be dreamin' all of dis."

He snorted. "Sit down and eat," he ordered gruffly.

Ah. There was the Wolverine I knew.

"Looks bien, Wolvie," I teased, taking my place across from him.

Pointing his fork at me, he said sternly, "Ya'll eat every bite, bub. Wanna
see a clean plate. And," he added with a fierce frown, "*don't* call me
'Wolvie'."

"'Kay," I agreed soberly, hiding my not-so-sober expression by concentrating
on my food.

Although he was finished long before I was, he sat there watching me with a
curiously hesitant air.

"What?" I finally asked cautiously, setting my fork down.

Drawing in a deep breath, Logan paused before answering. "I... Remy, I want
ya ta do something fer me this morning."

Uh oh. Whatever he wanted, I had a bad feeling about it. "I ain' gonna like
dis, am I?"

"Probably not," he confirmed. "But ya really need to do this. *I* need ya
ta do this."

Sitting back in my chair, I crossed my arms on my chest defensively and
waited in silence.

"Want ya ta go up to the mansion with me. Let Hank take a look at ya."

Before he even finished speaking I was shaking my head in vehement denial.
"'M fine, Logan. Tol' y' dat last night."

"Uh huh. Look, kid, ya haven't been eating or sleeping. Yer run down. Ya
gotta let Hank check ya over."

Continuing to shake my head, I added a frown to my face. "Non."

"Remy... Do it fer me?" he cajoled. "I'd really 'preciate it."

The bastard. "Ohhh. Playin' dirty, eh?"

He shrugged. "Whatever works, kid. Whaddya say? I'd hate ta have ta drag
ya there by force."

"Merde!" Reluctantly I folded, well aware that he was quite capable of
throwing me over his shoulder and delivering me to Hank. "'Kay, Logan," I
said sulkily. "Remy'll go."

Generous in his victory, Logan had the grace to erase all signs of triumph
from his expression. "Thanks, Rem."

Rising from the table, he quickly cleared the dishes. "Get yer shoes on," he
said, nodding at my bare feet.

"Now? What's de hurry?"

"The hurry is that if I give ya a chance ta think about it, ya'll come up
with a hundred reasons to back out."

"At least gimme a little time to digest my breakfast," I hedged.

"No way. We go *now*."

"But didn' y' promise t' show me these 'plans' after breakfast? Can' we do
dat first?"

"Later, kid. *After* ya see Hank." He grinned. "Then we'll have a
little... fun."

Resigned to my fate, I got ready and allowed myself to be hustled out of the
door.

***

Though I dragged my feet in an attempt to stave off the inevitable, our walk
to the mansion passed all too quickly. I stopped a few feet from the door,
searching my mind frantically for an excuse to avoid my fate.

I hate the infirmary. Everything about it: the stark coldness of the place,
the smells of antiseptic and medicines, the implements of torture (or so I
viewed them) lying about. Most of all, though, I hated - and feared - the
needles. It's silly, I know. Childish as it is, I have never been able to
overcome my absolute horror of needles.

Logan gave me a moment, then stepped to my side and laid one hand on my
shoulder. "C'mon, Remy. You can do this."

"Logan, I..." Shamed by my fear, I fell silent, swallowing heavily.

"Easy, kid. Let's just get this over with, okay?"

I took one step towards the door, then paused. "Cher... would you stay wit'
Remy?"

"'Course I will," he said, cupping the back of my neck with a large hand. "I
know this is hard fer ya. Won't leave ya alone in there."

"T'anks, Logan. S-sorry to be such a bebe 'bout dis."

"Knock it off. No need ta apologize, I understand."

"Mais-"

"Listen," he interrupted, "can ya lower yer shields enough to just feel me?
Make a link between us and still block the others?"

"Oui, t'ink I can," I said hesitantly. "You sure 'bout dis, cher?"

He nodded decisively. "Do it."

"'Kay." Closing my eyes, I concentrated, reaching out to him with my mind.

Warmth. Confidence in me. Understanding and sympathy, but no pity, washed
over me. Relieved and filled with shaky confidence, I straightened my
shoulders. "'M ready."

Between my anxiety about seeing Henri and my concentration on that link with
Logan, I'd completely forgotten to worry about running into the other X Men
at the Mansion. When Jeannie and Scott emerged from the parlor to greet us,
I was caught by surprise.

More than halfway expecting Logan to step between us, I was a little dismayed
that he stayed to one side. My trepidation must have been clear to him
though, because a wave of comfort washed over me through the new link.

"Remy!" Jean greeted me enthusiastically. "I'm so happy to see you!" She
threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly.

Not sure how to deal with this, I awkwardly patted her back. "Good t' see
y', too, chere."

Releasing me, she stepped back and studied my face with a concerned frown.
"Are you okay, Remy? You're awfully pale. You've lost weight, too."

"'M bien, Jeannie," I assured her.

"You really should let Hank take a look at you. I know you don't like
doctors, but-"

"That's what we're here for, Red," Logan said, more than a little
satisfaction in his tone. "Remy here is gonna get a physical."

Scott smirked. "And you didn't have to tie him up and drag him here, kicking
and screaming?"

"I can be *very* convincing, Cyke."

"Threatened him, huh?"

Jean poked an elbow into Scott's ribs. Whatever remark he'd been about to
voice went unsaid. "However you managed it, Logan, I'm happy that you've
talked him into seeing Hank. We're both glad... Right, Scott?"

"Yeah, sure. Thrilled beyond words," Cyclops agreed sarcastically. I
noticed, however, that his expression revealed that he, too, was relieved.

So confusing was this attitude of Scott's - I'd been under the impression
that he'd banished me to the boathouse as a kind of punishment - that I could
only stare at him in bemused disbelief.

"What?" he finally asked.

"He thinks ya hate him like the others do, Cyke," Logan explained.

"Damn! Look, Gambit, I put you in the boathouse for your own protection. I
don't blame you for anything. Hell, we've all made mistakes. Yours was no
worse than anyone else's."

Jean poked his ribs again. "I told you to explain that to him, didn't I?"

Rubbing at his side, Scott nodded. "Yes, dear."

Logan's amusement at this display made me smile. "T'anks f'r tellin' me dat,
Scott. 'Preciate it."

"C'mon, kid," Logan said impatiently. "You have a date with Hank."

"What's de hurry? We shouldn' jus' run off. Would be rude, dat."

"Ferget it, bub. They ain't gonna save ya. Let's go."

Scott snorted. "Good try, Gambit.""We'll talk more later, Remy," Jean said,
patting my arm. "You go on and let Henry take a look at you now."

Without further ado, Logan hauled me down to the infirmary.

***

Henri's look of stunned amazement on hearing why we were there was almost
worth subjecting myself to the exam. Not quite, but almost. He gathered
himself together quickly and got started. I think he was afraid that I'd
back out if he gave me time to think about it.

Logan insisted on staying in the room, and Henri had the good sense not to
challenge him. I managed to stay fairly calm throughout most of the
examination. Until Henri announced that he'd have to take a blood sample.

Cringing away from the dreaded needle, I shook my head and said, "Non!"

With wide eyes, Henri watched incredulously as Logan put an arm around my
shoulders and soothed me with quiet words. Once I'd calmed down, he nodded
to the doctor. "Go ahead, Hank. He'll be okay now."

I buried my face against Logan's neck and concentrated on breathing evenly,
the calm Logan blanketed me with through the link making it possible for me
to sit quietly while blood was drawn.

"There," Henri said when done. "You sit tight for a couple of minutes while
I take a look at this. I'll be right back with vitamins and a diet for you."

Shivering with reaction, I remained silent, still hiding my face against
Logan. He rubbed my back soothingly and told me I'd done well. Said he was
proud of me. Pressed a light kiss on my head.

"Y' owe me, cher," I mumbled.

"Don't worry, darlin'. When we get back to the boathouse, I'll give you what
I promised this morning."

"Y' better!"

I distinctly heard a chuckle from Henri's direction.

Armed with vitamins and a list of foods Henri wanted me to eat while I
regained my strength, we headed up to the kitchen. Logan had insisted that
he was the only anti-depressant I needed when Henri had mentioned the
probable need for one. With a knowing smile, Beast had agreed - with the
proviso that he be allowed to reconsider chemical intervention if I hadn't
improved within a week.

We'd just see about *that*!

***

In the kitchen we busied ourselves raiding the refrigerator and cabinets,
gathering enough food for the next couple of days. It wouldn't be an
exciting diet, but I could put up with it for a while. Not that Logan would
give me any choice in the matter...

"Well, well, well. What have we here? I'm amazed that you have the nerve to
show your face, traitor."

Warren. In a truly hateful mood.

With a warning growl, Logan moved to stand between us. "Cut the shit,
*Angel*. Of all people, ya have no room ta talk 'bout the supposed sins of
others."

Eyebrows raised, Warren sneered at Logan. "What's this? Got a new pet,
Wolverine?"

I wanted to defend myself. Really, I did. Allowing Logan to protect me was
damned embarrassing. But, I couldn't quite shake the feeling that Angel was
right. I *was* a traitor - and I had lied to my fellow X Men. Shame kept me
quiet.

"Fuck off, Wings, or I'll hurt ya," Logan warned.

"Ooooh. Aren't you the protective one? One would almost think you *cared*
about this slime."

"Shut it, Warren." Scott had come into the room. "Quit challenging Logan or
I'll let him-"

"Jesus!" Angel interrupted, shaking his head in disgust. "What the hell is
going on around here? I thought you didn't like Wolverine, and as for
Gambit..."

"That's *enough*! Just shut up and leave the room, Warren. We're going to
have a long talk about this attitude of yours later today."

"Why not now?" Warren challenged.

"Because," Scott said tightly, "I'm so pissed at you right now that I'd
probably say things I might be sorry for later."

"Go ahead, Scott. I can take it."

"I said later, Warren. Now go."

Logan, sensing my growing distress, moved to my side and soothingly rubbed my
shoulders. "Easy there, Rem. He's an asshole; jest ignore him and
concentrate on how I feel 'bout ya."

Eyes narrowed, Warren fixed us with a disgusted glare. "Jesus! They're...
Shit! They're a couple of faggots!"

"Warren!" Jean spat, entering the kitchen. "That will be more than enough
out of you." Her voice held a degree of disgust I'd never suspected she was
capable of. "How you - how *any* mutant - could possibly pass judgement on
another's lifestyle is beyond belief."

"They're... it's unnatural, Jean."

"Unnatural my *ass*!" Shaking her head in disbelief, she continued, "Love is
love, Warren. Hetero or homosexual makes no difference, dammit."

Warren's expression of hate - yes, hate - of not only me, but of the
closeness between Logan and myself showed no signs of abating.

"Jean," Scott said quietly. "This isn't the time or place, hon. We'll have
a team meeting later to discuss the situation. I'm sure," he sneered, "that
Worthington will act as town crier and spread the news of Logan and Remy's
relationship by then."

As this little confrontation had developed, I found myself by turns shamed,
confused, and angered. The confidence I'd been slowly growing had faded into
nothingness. I wanted to run away. Hide from all of them. Logan moved
closer and draped one arm around my shoulders.

"Logan," I whispered. "Remy needs t' go 'way from dis place."

"Okay, kid. We're going." He reached for the box of food, awkwardly trying
to balance it under one arm while keeping the other around my shoulders.

"Let me," Jean intervened. "I'll carry the box; you concentrate on Remy."
She lifted the box and raised an eyebrow at Logan. "I'll put the food away
when we get back to the boathouse. I think Remy needs your full attention -
a little snuggling is just what he needs right now."

I opened my mouth to complain.

"Shaddup, bub. You heard Red. Do as she says."

Scott nodded emphatically. "No use arguing, Gambit. She always gets her
way."