Title: Black Magick
Authors: Spirit Melody (kat@lsak.fsnet.co.uk) and Firesong (firesong@ukonline.co.uk)
Archive: Quite probably, but please ask both of ours permission.
Disclaimer: We do not own the characters of Logan, Remy, the X-Men or any other Marvel creations featured in this story. Marvel does. We are merely borrowing them for our playtime.
Rating: NC-17 all the way :)
Category: Wolverine/Gambit
Notes and warnings: Extreme violence, non-consensual sex (i.e rape), consensual graphic sex and bucketloads of angst. A lot of bad stuff happens to Remy in this story. That for ppl like us means yay!
Feedback: Yes please!! Always welcomed, all writers thrive on feedback. More feedback = more stories.
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Black Magick - part six
 
The jeep pulled in slowly outside the boathouse. Logan cut the engine, and sat back in his seat, taking a good hard, long look at the Cajun in the moonlight. The way the slight breeze made his hair flow in wisps round his face. Logan had to admit that the Cajun looked damn good in the moonlight.
 
He listened carefully to the Cajun's breathing, and reached over to feel the pulse in his neck. It surprised Logan how soft his skin actually was. It was smooth even to his extra sense of touch. No flaws anywhere. He couldn't resist caressing the young man's cheek, and it wasn't until his fingers touched the blood dried fabric in the collar that he was reminded of what happened in the bar.
 
The Canadian climbed out his side, and circled round to the passenger side. Ever so carefully so as not to wake him, Logan put one strong arm round the kid's slender shoulders and the other underneath his knees. He lifted him effortlessly out of the open top jeep and walked the few feet to the boathouse front door; registering with dismay that he felt like he was carrying a child in his arms, rather than some 6'1 fully grown man.
 
As he got to the door he remembered with a soft curse his earlier comments with Remy.
 
The keys were *inside* the boathouse.
 
And they were outside.....
 
'Ah well, Cajun's not the only one who can pick locks' thought Wolverine, using the word 'pick' very loosely.  He slowly lowered the Cajun's legs to the floor, but used his strong arm, to hold the Cajun tight so as not to fall. He smirked as he extended one long razor sharp claw which glinted dangerously in the moonlight - slashing the lock off.
 
The Cajun's forehead furrowed, and a small groan followed.
 
"Shh Darlin' not far now."  Logan whispered softly in his ear. He stroked the Cajun's brow, and cheek. It seemed to settle him. Breathing a sigh of relief, he sweeped Remy back into his arms.
 
Logan quietly moved the door open with a foot and laid Remy down on the couch in the living room. The man looked so small, and delicate.
 
He went back quickly to close the door, and put a chair up against it so he'd hear easily if they got any 'late night guests'.
 
When he got back to the couch a second later Remy's eyes were open. Rather unfocused, but wide open all the same. Kneeling down by the couch he brushed a few blood covered strands away from Remy's neck and cheek causing the scarlet gaze to shift to Logan's face.
 
A flash of recognition passed across Remy's face.
 
"Logan." Remy sighed deeply, "I feel' like I've been run over by a big ol' truck.... wit' lots o' other lil trucks on de top." He tried a little chuckle, but it just got caught in his throat and turned into a coughing fit instead.
 
Logan smirked, and patted the Cajun's back. The coughing soon subsided, and Remy relaxed into the cushions behind him.
"I bet, I look a real mess non?"
 
"I thought ya said that ya always looked good?" Logan teased.
 
"I guess y' caught me out den?"
 
"I wouldn't say that swamp rat." Logan chuckled at the Cajun's face. He could tell that Remy wasn't sure how to take a comment like that, especially from Logan.
 
"You hittin' on me? Coz' you picked a lousy time to try it on homme." The Cajun asked bewildered. As soon as he said it, a part of him hoped that Logan would say yes, and that he'd never leave him. But then the other part of him just laughed.  'Yeah, like anyone would want t' be stuck wit' some two-bit whoring thief.'
 
"Nah, just perfectin' my bedside manner." He reached out and gently tilted Remy's head to one side, checking the wound. Remy was glad that Logan wasn't looking at his face. He could feel a lump in his throat and prayed he could keep the tears at bay. 'See I told you so.' His more realistic side laughed at him. 'He'll leave you like all de others. Wit' your face in de dirt.'
 
"Wound's closed kid; but do ya want me to call Blue anyway?" Logan said, then remembered Remy's intense reluctance to be any where near a medical facility. Logan hastily added, "He could come by down here and have a look at yer head."
 
'And the rest of ya' he thought silently.
 
Remy paled slightly under Logan's gaze.
 
"Non, Henri prob'ly be 'sleep or doin' some 'portant work; not'ing t' disturb him 'bout." Remy answered, losing some control on his thick patois accent in his tired state.
 
Logan briefly entertained the idea of arguing back but instantly remembered how damn stubborn the Cajun could be.
 
"'Kay kid, but I'm callin' him over in the mornin'. No arguments." said Logan sternly.
 
Remy opened his mouth to protest but Logan shook his head and Remy closed it; too tired to argue.
 
' 'Sides, he'll of forgotten 'bout me in de mornin' anyways' thought Remy, wondering why Logan was still there - talking to a traitor.
 
Logan cursed softly in his head reading the self doubt and hatred in the exotic eyes before him, which were apparently currently counting the number of cracks in the ceiling above.
 
Deciding to cut right to the chase, and leave matters of Remy's head alone, Logan spoke up.
 
"Listen kid, if Creed's after ya fer any reason yer in danger. I'm gonna stay around with ya fer awhile."
 
"S'ok Logan; y' don' 'ave t'."
'Mais please do!' he added silently; why was Sabretooth following him? Was it just to mess him up, play with his head a little; or did Sinister actually want him back? Remy was torn from those disturbing questions by the rough tobacco hardened voice of Logan.
 
"'Course I do Cajun! Yer a teammate. And a friend." replied Logan, completely sincerely.
 
"I'm no' an X-Man anymore mon ami.... I 'ave no home wit' de X-Men."
 
Logan snorted.
 
"Says who? You?"
 
"Non" replied Remy, shaking his head from side to side once but stopping immediately and whincing in pain, "Rogue. She tol' me dat when she left me in Antarctica." Gambit shuddered slightly, feeling the ever present chill all over his body. Since Antarctica it was like his bones had been turned to ice.  "She was right."
 
Anger at that bitch he'd once thought of as a friend and loyal teammate flared up in Logan.
 
"Remy" The younger man's eyes gazed back into Logan's registering surprise at his hardly ever spoken name coming from Wolverine's lips, "For what it's worth I believe the trial should never have happened. And even if ya asked ta be, ya didn't deserve to be left behind in a place like that."
 
Remy sighed, misery echoing in the small sound.
 
"Merci Logan. I didn' ask t' be left dere, mais I deserved it. Rogue did de right t'ing. I shoulda died dere. I deserved t' die dere mon ami."
 
The last sentence came out in a tortured whisper and Remy closed his eyes to stop the crystalline tears that had welled up in his eyes from falling.
 
Logan was almost speechless. Shocked he said -
"Ya didn't ask ta be left there Gumbo?"
 
Confused Remy opened his eyes once more and looked into Logan's light blue ones.
 
"Non" Gradually he allowed himself to be drawn back to the memories of that conversation between him and Rogue, "I 'member she came over t' me, an' gently stroked de side o' my cheek wit' her gloved hand. I didn' understand why she wasn' angry after what she an' de rest o' dem now knew 'bout what I 'ad done. I opened my mout' t' say somet'ing but she ... she.., her eyes grew cold. Cold like de ice around us an' she - she hit me! She backhanded me 'cross de face. She's so strong; I was knocked t' de ground and I put my hands out t' steady myself and de snow was so cold. It felt like my hand were bein' skinned.
 
An' den Rogue, she looked at me an' say dat I didn' 'ave a home anymore. Not wit' her... not wit' de X-Men.
 
I didn' know what she was goin' t' do, mais she jus' took t' de air. Flew 'way. I couldn' believe it. I knew I deserved it, mais....
 
I screamed her name over an' over 'gain. 'Til I couldn' hardly even whisper anymore. I didn' even 'ave a shirt on; I couldn' imagine what I was goin' t' be in f'. Freezin' t' deat'!"
 
Streams of tears fell from Remy's eyes and without even thinking about it Logan pulled him into his lap and wrapped his arms around the kid's trembling back.
 
Remy's whole body convulsed with silent sobs and Logan held him tightly against his chest. Rocking slightly forward and backwards as if he had a crying child in his arms. He could feel just how much weight the Cajun had lost over the past few months. He was so fragile.
 
After a while Remy's sobs stopped and his breathing evened out until Logan knew he was fast asleep. Once again lifting the Cajun into his arms Logan brought him upstairs where he laid Remy in the warm bed. Brushing away the streaks of tears still on Remy's face, he tucked the covers tightly around Remy's now shivering, light frame.
 
Soon, he was going to have a long talk with some of the X-Men, but for the moment he wasn't leaving Remy's side for a second.
 
After all, there was a homicidal maniac who was a match even for Logan out there waiting for the right time to pounce.