Author: Xantissa
Feedback: yes, yes, yesssssss!
Email: xantissa@xl.wp.pl
Fandom: X-men
Pairing: Bobby/Logan; Remy/Bobby later Remy/Bobby/Logan
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Mentioning of abuse, m/m sex, bad language, and violence.
Notes:  After the Trial Remy escaped Antarctica but didn’t go back to the Mansion.  He started working for the government. Meanwhile, at the Mansion things changed, something started between Bobby and Logan.  Not a relationship yet, but very close.  About 6 months after the Trial the X-men fought a new enemy, a very powerful telepath – The Keeper.  The X-men thought they destroyed him, but he survived and exacted his revenge on them.  He kidnapped Bobby and made the X-men believe that the Iceman was dead.  The action starts about five months after that.

Chapter 1

Remy cursed when he heard a sound from beneath.  He stilled, waiting for the guards to pass.  He already had what he came for, and didn’t want to be discovered.  Breaking into this base hadn’t easy but he’d managed.  Others failed probably because the main “Boss” here was a telepath and could sense them.  But with Gambit’s shields he was completely invisible to telepaths.

“Hey, Bob!” called one of the guards and Remy pressed himself deeper into the shadows releasing his empathy a little, just to make sure no one would notice him.  Since Antarctica he’d become a true master in using both his empathy and charge power.  When the cold forced him to charge his own flesh to keep alive he used his empathy to fool his mind, to convince it, that the pain wasn’t maddening.

But it wasn’t a time to think about the Trial and the way he’d escaped that frozen Hell.

“What?” answered the other guard, the one that stood right in front of the closed metal door.

“The Boss told me to feed the kid,” the first one said, motioning to the closed door.  “I think he’ll come later to have his time with the blonde,” he said snickering.  “I’ll go get the food and you give the kid his meds so we won’t have to keep him down when the boss arrives him.”

Remy swallowed hard when he realized just what they were discussing.  He’d had his share of pain and abuse in his life.  Now he could barely control the rage that built inside him, thinking about that nameless, faceless kid that was probably living in his own private hell.

He knew he had to get out of there fast, before someone noticed that the data had been copied, but couldn’t force himself.  He wondered what his life would look like today if somebody had actually DONE something to get him out of the Antiquary’s hands.  But everyone just turned away, thinking it wasn’t their business.

He really, really wanted, needed, to just turn away and go.  Just go.  But.  But he still vividly remembered the sight of the Blackbird taking off and flying away from him.  Leaving him to die.

He was far from considering himself innocent.  He DID cause the Massacre.  He SHOULD be punished, but had the X-men the right to sentence him to death?  Had they?

So now, instead of sneaking quietly out of this place, he inched himself closer to the guards.  He couldn’t use too much of his charm, because then the telepath in this base would pick him up, so he had to do it in a more conventional way.

He waited till the guards stopped chitchatting and parted.  One left to bring food and other opened a small cabinet, took a syringe out and filled it with a transparent green liquid.

He opened the complicated lock and just as he was about to enter the room, Remy launched himself at the man.  There wasn’t much of a fight.  Using his mutant agility and speed he twisted the man’s arm and forced the syringe into the guard’s own body.

Surprised the guard only yelped and then his eyes glazed over and he fell to the floor, completely lost in a drug-induced haze.  Remy was surprised to see just how STRONG the drug was.  Whoever was treated with it, was probably seriously addicted by now.

He dragged the unconscious man in and closed the door.  “He took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark room.”

It was a small room, without any windows.  First he saw a small metal toilet, sink and a shower sticking out of the wall.  It was very cold and rank smelling.  He started looking around, his mutant eyes allowing him to see in the dark.  It took him a moment to realize there was a bed in the far corner of the cell. He saw a pale figure curled on it in a fetal position, completely naked.  When he stepped closer, he saw that it was young male.  His skin was very pale.  He was laying with his back to Remy so the first thing Gambit noticed were the cuts, long, narrow cuts that had stopped bleeding probably just a few hours ago.

He knew these kind of wounds, he had scars that could prove it.  Someone had used a whip on the boy hard enough to cut the skin.  Rage was building in his throat, memories welled up threatening to suffocate him.  Then he saw the blood stains on the lower back, buttocks and thighs of the boy.  He was obviously very brutally raped.  Lots of bruises, some old and fading, some still very fresh covered almost every inch of the young man’s body.  Just how much of a monster someone had to be to torment a kid like that?

He still hadn’t seen the face of the kid, because his head was hidden in his arms.  He saw however the shivering of that pale body.  The boy was naked and a quick scan of his surroundings confirmed Remy’s assumptions.  There were no clothes in the room, not even a blanket.  Just this bed and a dirty, old mattress.

“Hey, petite …” he called softly, not wanting to startle the young man.

His voice was, however, enough to jerk the young man out of his light doze and to Remy’s utter terror, he watched the boy scramble out of bed, whimpering with pain, and then crawl to the center of the room, where he kneeled, head bent, hands behind his back, knees spread.  Every move must have hurt like hell, the wounds on his back and the obvious bleeding from the recent rape.  Nevertheless, he moved, probably into the position that was required of him earlier, all the time sobbing quietly.

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry.  Didn’t mean to fall asleep, Please …  I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt me anymore.  I’ll be good.  I promise … please, just don’t hurt … I’m sorry.”

The voice, although low, hoarse and changed because of tears, sounded strangely familiar.  Gambit’s eyes widened in shock, when he recognized it.

“Bobby?”

The figure flinched and seemed to sink into himself even more.  Remy could easily see the shivers that ran through him.

“No, no … not again, please … not again.  Not it … I’ll do anything.  Please.  I won’t even scream, please just not this … please …”

Remy couldn’t listen to the begging, the terror that emanated from the young man.  There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but right now they had no time for it.

“Bobby, don’t be afraid, it’s Remy.  I won’t hurt you.  I promise …” murmured the Cajun softly as he approached the still kneeling figure.

Iceman however didn’t seem to recognize him.  When Remy was within arm’s reach, the boy shook so violently he could barely hold himself upright.

“Look at me, Bobby.  Please,” he asked softly, hoping to reassure the boy when he saw his face.

Bobby hastily obliged and Remy winced at the sight of his bruised face.  His hair were much longer than he remembered, falling over his eyes in dirty, blood stained bangs.

It took Remy a minute to realize that although the blue eyes were wide open and staring at him, Bobby didn’t really SEE him.  Slowly he moved his hand in front of the boy’s face and he noticed no reaction.

Bobby was blind.

Remy felt a large lump forming in his throat.  Mon Dieu!  What happened to him?!

Slowly he reached to move the hair out of Bobby’s face and the boy whimpered terrified at the touch, nearly out of his mind with fear.

“Shh … relax, I ain’t gonna hurt you petite.  Promise.  Jus’ help me here, okay?  I’m going to take you out of here …  I promise,” he talked in a soft, soothing voice although Bobby was too scared to actually hear him or believe him.

And he meant what he said.  He would take Bobby out of there even if he had to blow this whole place to pieces!  Ruthlessly, he forced his rage down.  He needed a clear mind to be able to get them both out of that damned place.

“I’m gonna give you some clothes, Cher.”

He walked over to the unconscious guard and had the incredible urge to kick him to relieve his rage, but he couldn’t risk scaring Bobby even more.  So instead he quickly stripped him from his clothes and brought the items back to the still kneeling Bobby.

“Get up, Bobby.  You have to dress and we are getting out of here.  Jus’ listen to me, okay?  I’m gonna take care of you Bobby.  You will be safe wid me, petite.”

“Remy?” Bobby suddenly croaked, blind eyes searching his face.  “Is it r-really y-you?”  Bobby clearly had problems with speaking.  As if he didn’t believe it.

Remy sighed in relief.  It seemed that Bobby was finally aware.

“Oui.  I’s me.”

“But t-this mm-makes no ss-sense,” he shook his head and then bent it again, “You’re d-dead.  The Keeper makes me see only the live ones.  It-t m-makes no sense … are you a ghost?”

“No, I’m gonna take you out of here,” the Cajun assured him softly.

Suddenly, Bobby’s face lit up with hope and almost … happiness?

“Will you kill me?”

Remy wasn’t sure he would be able to hold back his tears.  He also doubted he would ever forget the way Bobby said it.  With so much hope and need, as if it were his dreams coming true.  But then he looked at the small, dark cell and thought that, maybe, death was his biggest dream.

“No Bobby …”

The Iceman’s face fell, all life drained from it as he heard the words.  He just bent his head down, assuming the previous position.

“Bobby …  I need you to put these on,” he said holding the clothes in front of him.  Blindly, Bobby reached out.  He was surprised to feel material and Remy had a sickening feeling that he was probably often forced to “wear” things that weren’t clothes …

He winced when Bobby started pulling the shirt onto his tormented back.  It must have hurt, but he never once complained, just sometimes gave silent whimpers when the pain was unbearable.  Remy understood that Bobby took him for one of his abusers and obeyed in fear.

When he tried to get up, Remy had to help him.  He was so thin, skinny even. Remy could easily see his ribs.  And his skin was so very PALE.

When Bobby straightened and started pulling the pants on, Remy saw the fresh blood, slowly dripping from his rectum, down pale thigh.  Movement must have opened some wounds.

Bobby needed to see a doctor, badly.  But Remy knew it wasn’t possible.  If they managed to get out of there, the Keeper would seek them.  They had to disappear.

* * *

Remy stopped the car in the underground garage.  He had an apartment here, a safe place.  He looked at his hands.  They were shaking.  He rested his head on the steering wheel for a moment.  The adrenaline wore off and he was terrified as well.  He never thought he would be able to actually get out of that base with a blind Bobby, but he’d managed.  Only God knows how.

He had to blow things up.  Actually, he had charged the whole west side of the building if he remembered it correctly.  There had just been so much happening that he had gaps in his memory.  The escape seemed blurred to him.  He knew it was because he’d released his charm.  All of it.  His head hurt terribly, and he knew he would have migraine for WEEKS after abusing his empathy like that, but alone he’d had no chance in fighting all of the Keeper’s men, so instead he charmed them into not seeing him and Bobby.

He looked at the back seat, at the curled figure and thought it was worth it.  He was worried about Bobby but there was no way he could take him to the hospital.  He just hoped Bobby wouldn’t die from injuries he didn’t notice.

Finally, forcing his aching body to move, he got out of the car and took the sleeping body in his arms.  Here was an elevator, so he should be able to carry Bobby to it, and then into the apartment.  He didn’t want to wake Bobby right now.  It was better if the young man slept.

* * *

Bobby woke up to warmth and darkness, that didn’t surprise him.  Some months ago, or what he supposed were months, he understood that he wasn’t seeing any light not because the room had no windows, but because he’d gone blind.  What was strange was the warmth.  It surprised him.  He hasn’t felt it for such a long time.  He had problems recalling EVER being warm.  His hazy mind needed a long moment to comprehend that somebody was supporting him and the warm, pleasant sensation on his skin, was actually water.

He couldn’t understand what was happening at all.  Once in a while he was allowed to wash under the freezing shower in one corner of his room.  The water never once was hot, nor even warm.  And now he felt somebody’s hand washing him… gently.

His body tensed involuntarily.  He tried to control his reaction, knowing he would be punished for any kind of reaction but he was so very tired … Pain consumed his body like a liquid fire, spreading along his skin, driving him nearly mad.  The welts on his back hurt so much … a layer of dried, old blood seemed to hold him together.  He felt as if without it, his flesh would just fall off.  He wanted to cry, to shout, to relieve the pain in ANY way, but couldn’t.

He was so hungry and thirsty that tears couldn’t come and he knew that punishment for any kind of sound would be worse than anything he could imagine.  He shivered at the memory of what happened the last time he’d dared to make a sound.  His fingers just started healing …

Bobby felt a body beside him, a warm, strong body that supported him under the shower.  He didn’t even try to move his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t see anything more than darkness.

At first he was relieved that he couldn’t see.  That he wouldn’t be able to at least SEE the horrors The Keeper prepared for him, but then to his horror it occurred that not being able to see it, made it all the more terrifying.

He whimpered when the person touched his arms.  He was so scared he would be punished for even this little sound.  Tremors shook his body, as his panic started building. //No, not more, please no more.  I can’t stand it anymore, please…// his mind shouted frantically.  He thought about something to erase his guilt.  Do something to soothe the anger he KNEW he caused.  Sometimes, if he was good enough, submissive enough, willing enough, he could trade the whipping for something else.  But his body ached inside so much he wasn’t sure just what was worse: the heavy whip nearly flaying flesh from his bones or cruel, metal objects that threatened to rip him apart from inside.  He knew that he’d bled for quite a long time after the last “session” but he managed to avoid getting new slashes on his back.

Sometimes, when his mind was clear enough, or the drugs dulled the pain, he wondered if he even had skin on his back anymore.

Thinking was becoming more, and more difficult.  He felt his mind slip into unconsciousness and he accepted it, not fighting because he knew he wouldn’t be allowed even that kind of rest.  He knew there would be a telepathic shout that would leave him crumpled on the hard floor with such unbearable pain that all he will be able to do, would be to pray for death.

Bobby allowed his head to rest where it would fall and closed his eyes, hopefully for a few seconds of oblivion.

* * *

Remy thought he was too hard to cry anymore. That to much had happened in his life, to much suffering and heartache, that nothing would force him to shed tears anymore.

But he was wrong.

At first he didn’t realize he was crying.  When he did, he tried to compose himself, but couldn’t.

He knew he had to clean the boy, so he carried him to the bathroom.  There was a strange moment when he knew he had to lay him down, but couldn’t find a way to do it without hurting him even more.

Finally, he settled for the side on which Bobby had been resting earlier.  He started stripping, knowing that Bobby wasn’t in any condition to shower by himself, but decided to put some clothes on in which he would shower.  He didn’t want to scare the boy, in case he regained consciousness.

He found some soft sweat pants, two pairs and tee’s.  Normally, Bobby was much more muscular and heavier than him, although Remy was taller.  But now his clothes seemed too big for the Iceman.

Remy remembered that Bobby could heal in ice.  If he was wounded it was enough for him to change into his ice form and back, and he was healed, even scars disappeared.  But now his powers were probably blocked in some way.

He readied the clothes and retrieved five soft, fluffy towels, before stripping.  Changing didn’t take him more than two minutes.  He approached the still sleeping, or rather, unconscious boy and unbuttoned his shirt, removing it.  He cursed wordlessly, when he realized that the cloth was sticking to the boy’s bloody back.  During their escape, the whip marks must have opened and bled again.

Slowly, and as gently as his thief hands allowed, he removed it and then took the pants.  He gritted his teeth when he saw the patch of drying blood, smeared over the left inner thigh down through the knee to the ankle.  Every step the boy made must have been sheer torture.

Throwing it, along with the boots, away he pulled the unconscious body upright and managed to drag him into the shower.  Somehow, balancing between the corner and his own body he managed to keep Bobby vertical and started washing him with lukewarm water.  He was afraid that hot water would cause him more pain.

Bobby’s chest and stomach were covered in various scratches or unknown origin and vast bruises that might be indicative of internal bleeding.  Very gently he used a sponge to clean him.  Maybe he would be ashamed to clean another man so intimately, but seeing the obscene amounts of blood, old and new, all his unease disappeared.  Before turning the man, he wanted to clean his hands.  Bobby’s fingers were nearly black from the dirt, so he picked up one hand and started to soap it.

Although his eyes registered the fact already, his mind simply couldn’t do it right away.

“Mon Dieu!” he whispered shocked when the water washed the dirt away and he SAW what was left of Bobby’s fingertips.  The skin was barely existent, ragged raw flesh was exposed, sometimes it was even missing and he could actually SEE the bone in Bobby’s index fingertip.  There were almost no nails.

Remy barely suppressed the urge to throw up.  He just now started to realize the whole terror of it.  With dread, he looked at the almost black toes and had the sickening feeling he knew what he would find there.

Suddenly, he felt the body tense and realized Bobby must have woken up.  His eyes were open, but not seeing.  He also felt the body relax, obviously a force of will.  His shivers were enough for him to realize just how frightened the boy was, not even using his empathy.  And his mind was assaulted with terror and hopelessness, all the dark feelings and above all, a death wish.

He wanted to tell him something, to soothe the young man, but before he decided what to do, the body in his arms relaxed again, and the awareness disappeared from his mind.  Bobby was out cold again.

And considering that he had to wash his back right now, maybe it was the best thing anyway.

Remy was aware of the fact that the worst part was still ahead of him.  He needed to clean Bobby’s back.  After seeing his fingers he was really afraid of looking at the boy’s back.

He briefly considered giving him some painkillers but couldn’t risk it.  He knew Bobby had been drugged before, he was also starved and probably dehydrated. It was too dangerous to give him any painkillers now, when he was so weak.  But the last thing he wanted was to cause him more pain than he’d already suffered.

Remy’s clothes were completely soaked and he was cold.  Ever since Antarctica, he couldn’t stand water temperature lower than boiling.  The lukewarm shower seemed freezing to him.  But this seemed so unimportant right now.

Slowly turning the boy around he recalled vowing to himself to never care about any of the X-men.  He hated them with a passion.  They not only left him to die in that frozen Hell, but also destroyed his beliefs.  He really believed that the X-men were doing something good, that they cared, that their moral standards were real.  How mistaken he was!  How many times had he heard the “X-men don’t kill” and then was left to die.  They made themselves judge, jury and executioner in one entity.

But looking at the tormented young man in front of him, Remy realized that he could never turn his back on him nor any other person needing help.  It would just make him the same as Sinister and all the others he despised.

Remy looked down, between his feet and watched the pink-brown water flow towards the drain.  The very thought of the horror the Iceman had gone through made him shiver.

When he finally gathered his courage, he looked up only to see stomach-wrenching wounds.  Deep welts sometimes going two or even three inches deep covered the boy’s back.  In many places, the flesh was being held together only by patches of skin, the tissue ripped from his body.

He knew that the wounds needed to be cleaned but couldn’t force himself to touch them.  Just the thought of the pain it would cause Bobby …

Averting his eyes, he lowered his hands and cleaned the lower parts of the boy’s body and then, very carefully, he carried him out of the shower.  He dried Bobby and then himself.  While he was changing into fresh clothes he realized he was shaking.  Tears were now flowing freely down his cheeks and he couldn’t get a grip on himself.

Slowly and with care, he took Bobby to his bedroom and laid him on his side, the one that looked quite normal.  He covered him with a thin sheet, not wanting to irritate the wounds, and raised the room temperature.  He realized he was in shock himself.  Now that he’d cleaned the wounds, the kid’s serious condition dawned on him.  His hands shook like leaves as he dialed the phone number.

After just one ring a male voice answered.

“Hello?”

“It’s Remy.  Is Nara there?” Remy managed to say in a calm voice. Kael was Nara’s personal slave and bodyguard.  They’d always been nemeses and Kael would love to make him wait. This time however, he had no time for games.

“It is two in the morning.  She’s asleep.  I’ll tell her you called.”

“Non!  Wake her up now!” he didn’t notice the desperation seeping into his voice, but Kael did and was worried.  After all, the thief was always very controlled, never allowed his true feelings to show. Something must have scared him.

“Wait a minute.”

Remy swallowed hard trying to come up with an idea on how to convince his lover to help.  He’d met Nara shortly after his return from Antarctica.  The young widow was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.  Even Jean and Storm faded in comparison to her.  She had pale, almost white skin and rich, silky golden hair.  Her eyes were the color of the sweetest honey.  The tall, elegant and strikingly beautiful woman was having problems living again after her husband’s death.

They’d been friends before they’d become lovers.  They loved each other, but they weren’t in love.  He showed her that there were things worth living on this world and she soothed him and taught him a few things.

Nara Sukumi was a human and had no powers at all, but she was married to Master Vampire, Marakaj.  She loved him more than anything and what was even more strange, was that he loved her back, and when he’d died in battle, his soul, instead of leaving, moved into her body to protect her.

She was Queen of the Nosferatu Clan that was considered one of the most powerful among Vampires and was protected as royalty.  Kael had been her husband’s slave and after his final death had become her protector.  He followed her like a shadow, catering to all her needs, but failing to draw her out of her depression.

At first he didn’t believe any of it, but then he’d been convinced that the story was true.  It had been proven with one event.

Nara was crossing the street when a large truck suddenly came around the corner with an obviously drunk driver, speeding right towards her.

In a heartbeat a great wave of power came and swept the large truck from the face of the earth, destroying it completely.  There weren’t even traces of it having ever being on that road before.

Remy knew it was her husband, Marakaj, because it became so cold and her eyes and turned completely black for several long seconds before her eyes returned to their normal honey color and she asked what happened.

Remy knew he couldn’t ask a doctor for help, because the Keeper, obviously a telepath, would know it.  Nara however was safe.  Remy doubted there was anything stronger than the power of Marakaj inside her body and, of course, Kael.  However, he didn’t know what powers Kael had.

“Remy?” came the sleepy voice.

“Nara?” he asked, not completely hiding the tears in his voice.  “I … I need your help.  Can you come here?”

There was stunned silence on the other side.

“When?” she asked finally, sensing it was important to him.

“Right now?  Please …” Nara grew worried.  Remy never asked for anything.  Never.

“Is something wrong Remy?  Are you hurt?  Remy?”

“No …”

“So what happened?  Why are you so shaken?  Answer me.”

“I found … found somebody.  A … a friend of mine.  He was captured and held hostage.  He … he needs medical help, but I can’t trust a doctor … I can’t.  Mon dieu!  I can’t even clean his wounds.  Nara …  I have never seen anything so cruel.  Oh God, I can’t even …”

“Calm down Remy!  I’m leaving right now.  I’ll be at your place in twenty minutes.”

“Thank you, Nara,” he whispered softly, “I really need your help.  And could you bring some food wid you?  Maybe a chicken soup or something like dat?  I think he was starved dere …”

“Sure.  Don’t worry.”

She hung up, but Remy kept staring at the phone for a few more minutes, wondering why he’d broken down.