Logan slept light. A bare shielding of his eyes from the ambient light of the fire, so close to awareness that he never came close to dreaming. He could get his rest that way and still stay on guard. Not that anything had tried his defenses these last few days. The storm still raged and nothing living ventured out carelessly into her grasp. He didn't think Creed an exception to that rule. Creed was smart enough not to blunder out into that mess. He was holed up somewhere - - if he hadn't taken off completely - - waiting out the blizzard. Just like Logan.

An intrusive sound disturbed his rest. A quiet scuffing of feet on hardwood floor. He tensed and slitted his eyes, pupils adjusting almost immediately to the light of a low burning fire. Everything else was dark. Wasn't an enemy though, just the kid shuffling across the floor - - a little unsteady, a little perplexed looking, still flushed with enough fever to make his eyes seem a little doped.

"Hey, where you going, gumbo?" Logan got up without Remy's noticing, laid a hand on his bare arm and got a startled look. Shocked at his presence, as if the kid had forgotten he was there. The skin under Logan's callused fingers was all goose pimply, cold as hell despite the fever, with nothing on but a pair of Logan's boxers that hung low on slim hips. Creed had been thorough in his pilferage. Had burned Remy's clothes and most of Logan's - - a good enough method to keep him staationary in the cabin. Logan had what he'd taken up with him to the ranger station and there wasn't a lot of that to spare, another serious obstacle in getting the both of them down to civilization.

"Have to wash." Remy said, distracted, running his good hand through his hair, pushing dangling strands away from his face, cringing a little at the touch.

"You're okay." Logan assured him. "And there ain't no water heater. Pipes're probably frozen anyway."

That distressed the kid. He pulled at his hair again, a little obsessively, glancing furtively at the tiny bathroom as if he were contemplating bolting past Logan and barricading himself inside. "I need - - to get it out of my hair. I can smell it - - "

Him. Logan thought. He could smell him. Logan could too. The scent of Creed was all over the cabin. He doubted Remy was scenting what he thought he was. He doubted Remy was particularly lucid at the moment - - but he had to admit, the notion of that raping bastard's spluge in his hair was disconcerting. He'd cleaned up the kid's skin - - hadn't gotten to his hair.

"Okay." He nodded. "I'll warm some water. Ain't no reason for you to catch more of a chill than you already have, pouring cold water over your head. Go sit down. Wrap up here by the fire and I'll go get some snow from outside to melt."

He didn't exactly wait for compliance. He forcefully marched Remy over to the chair by the fire and tucked a blanket around him. He got the water warmed, filled the sink with it and led the kid over, thinking wryly that was the last thing he'd have imagined himself doing when he'd planned of coming up here - - washing some other guy's hair in luke warm water and dish detergent. But it felt nice, that hair, soft as silk even wet, slick and pleasurable to bunch in his fingers. Everytime his thumbs grazed the flesh at the hairline he felt a little tingle of - - what? Indulgence? Gratification? Disturbance, more likely. Remy leaned there while he was about it, elbows on the rim of the skin, bare shoulders shaking a little from the effort. He was wasted afterwards. Just done for the night. Barely got back to the bed without Logan's arm about his waist. Logan got the blankets back over him and sat there for a while towel drying most of the wetness out of his hair. Went and built up the fire afterwards to warm up the cabin and repositioned himself in his chair by it - - a little uneasy. A little wary of how nice it felt to have his hands on skin and hair that wasn't a woman's and wasn't - - in anyway he felt justifiable - - fair game.

Remy's fever dropped down to a low grade warmth by the next afternoon. Kid just woke up and was lucid and clear headed and surly. Touchy as hell and angry at the world and not much for talking about it. Not responsive to Logan's offered assistance, so Logan stopped offering, stopped trying at bits and pieces of conversation and let the kid sulk on his own. There were most likely things going on inside his head that didn't need anybody else's opinion on. At least not yet. He was sore as hell, and stiff and graceless - - weaker than he'd admit and pissed at that along with everything else. Logan let him stagger to the bathroom on his own. Let him get his own water from the jug full Logan had melted and left on the sink. There wasn't a whole lot Creed had left them in the way of stores that a body coming down off the spiral Remy had been on, might easily tolerate. Cubes of bullion for broth. Dried herbs and spices. Creed had ripped through most of the supplies and Logan had already put a big dent in what was left. Not much left to do but go out and see if he could bring in a bit of fresh meat. The snow had let up that morning; was barely a light sprinkling now and an inquisitive animal or two might be poking its head out of its den to see what it could forage.

"I'm going out for a bit. See if I can't find some fresh meat to add to the stew." Logan announced.

Remy glanced up at him, startled enough at the statement for it to show in his eyes. He hid it quickly enough. Lowered his head for a moment and when he lifted it back up those red and black eyes of his were cool and careless.

"Sure. You do 'dat." He shrugged, propped in the corner of the bed, as if it didn't matter to him what Logan did. His acting abilities, usually so clever, were at a lull. Logan could sense the wariness - - the uncertainty over the prospect of being left here alone and badly out of fighting shape. Maybe even a little fear, which was out of character for a young man that gleefully put his life on the line on rather frequent occasion.

Logan hid a grin, not amused by the disconcertion, but rather by the attempt to conceal it. "I ain't going far." He said. "Just past the woodline to see what's creeping about. See if they're any tracks since the snow let up of anything bigger than a rabbit out of its hidey hole."

"C'est très bien." A smile to hide the nerves, a tilt of his head and a cocky suggestion. "Bring back something better to eat than water and chicken cubes, oui."

Logan nodded and swept out into a world blanketed with white.
 
 

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Logan left and Remy shivered. Pulled the blankets closer and clamped his jaw tight to keep his teeth from chattering. Tried to convince himself it was the gust of wind and snowflakes that Logan had let in at his leaving and not - - apprehension at the leave-taking itself. There hadn't ever been a time in his life that he'd willingly relied on the protection of another being - - and he had no plans to start now. He kept telling himself that - - kept mouthing the words silently to concrete the fact in his own mind and still his gut clenched, his heartbeat raced and a sweat he hadn't broken out in since the fever retreated itched at his palms. Hard to be cocky and nonchalant when it hurt to move. When the simple operation of sitting up in bed made his body rail at him. When breathing itself was agony, if he didn't concentrate and take small, careful sips of air.

Didn't want to think about how. Didn't want to think about who - - but it was hard not too when against his most strident wishes, his mind kept circling back to the fear that Creed would come back while Logan out hunting in the snow.

Fuck. All it took was a thought and unwanted sights/sounds/sensations came rolling up like cold, inescapable floodwaters. Flashes of images and mocking words, hot breath on his face and cruel hands on his body - -

"Arrêtez-le." Stop it. Stop it!! He hissed, pressing his head back into the wood paneling, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to force the images away. Hard to forget when he still bore the bruises. When he still hurt in intimate places.

He wished Logan hadn't gone. But the practical side of him knew it was inevitable. From what Logan had told him - - when he'd been open enough to listen - - they were stuck here. Trapped by the snow and Remy's weakness. Another thing to hate about himself. That weakness. He was annoyed that Logan didn't voice his disgust out loud. It would have been better than the dour thought's Remy imagined. His imagination was always so much crueler than reality - - but then, it was safer that way. Better to be pleasantly disappointed when his expectations weren't always lived up to.

Don't think at all. Thinking too much when he was in these moods never led to pleasant things. Just made him sink deeper into whatever pit of depression was currently yawning at his feet. It had been better when he'd been too consumed by fever to have any rational thought at all. Hard not to muse upon - - things. Boredom led him to it. If he'd had a deck of cards he could have distracted himself. He'd used them all up on Creed. Wasted them.

He swallowed and shifted, rotating the shoulder he'd popped out of joint and that Logan had popped back in. Still sore. The arm was stiff, but usable. The other one vacillated between throbbing pain and numbness. He had to consciously stop himself from trying to use the hand. He feared permanent damage. Logan promised they could fix it good as new back at the mansion. He fervently hoped so. Desperately hoped so. He wouldn't last long with his dexterity so critically impaired.

His skin was still warm. No chills anymore, they had passed in the night. The fire Logan had fed before he'd left made the little cabin swelter. Or maybe it was the hind end of the fever. His head still felt stuffed with rough wool. He swung his legs over the edge of the bunk and his knees complained of the effort. Stood there, unsteady and vaguely nauseous until he got his center. Walked to the sink and sloppily poured himself a glass of water. Stood there with his hands braced on the counter for a bit, a draft from the door working to banish the warmth, the dirty tint of the small window over the sink letting in just a touch of afternoon light. Everything outside it was white. For a moment he thought the panes might be completely coated with snow, until he saw the gray outline of a tree trunk here, the valiantly upthrust point of a downed limb there.

A little claustrophobia hit him. Ran up his spine like a clawed finger. He shivered and spun, staring into the corners of the cabin, seeking the source of the discomfort in the shadows. His imagination. Overactive and tainted by recent fever and present injury.

You bein' stupid, Remy. He told himself, and forced calm. Forced himself to pour one more sip of water. He went to the chair by the fire and wrapped himself in the throw over its back. Sat there and stared into Logan's fire, listening to the crackling hiss of flames eating wood.

Something thumped outside. Hit the roof with a dull impact and rolled down the slant to the ground. He caught his breath, stilling the rocking of the chair in an instant, straining his ears to hear, cursing himself that his senses weren't as good as Logan's - - or Creed's.

A low creaking of wood, maybe the weight of the snow making the ceiling complain. Maybe something more. Maybe something on the roof. Something silent and soft in its tread.

Mondeuimondeuimondeui - - he was shaking before he put together the rational thought to call himself a fool. It had been a damned long time since any bump in the night had set Remy Lebeau to shaking so hard his teeth chattered. Nothing but the snow. He told himself, flinching as the wood of the ceiling creaked again.

Nothing but the snow. But he picked up a few chunks of pine bark from the hearth regardless - - -
 
 

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A body forgot how fast the sun went down this time of year, this far into the mountains, with as much cloud cover as obscured the features of the sky from any eyes. A body forgot how good it felt to exert itself - - to breath in the cold air - - to chasee down prey and prove himself the faster, the wilier, the smarter. For a man to catch a winter hare with nothing but his bare hands - - that took skill. It took patience.

Logan had both. He hadn't wondered far. Never far enough not to scent the faint smoke from the chimney of the cabin. Never far enough not to hear a ruckus if something came up. He trusted the kid to at least be able to raise a racket if Creed decided to drop by while Logan was out. That was why it had taken him longer than he'd hoped. He'd had a limited area of hunt. Had to wait for the prey to come to him, instead of tracking it down himself. He had four plump hares strung over his shoulder to show for his patience. He'd had to trudge through snow up to his thighs to get them. It wasn't an easy trek back now, but he knew the way of it and it was no particular hardship. The darkness was no hindrance.

He swung open the cabin door and it was dim and shadowy inside as well. The smell of woodsmoke and sweat - - and fear was strong. Almost it overpowered the blood smell that he carried about his person, from the carcasses he'd gutted.

There was a hair raising tingle of - - something. A glow from the corner between the bunk and the far wall. All buried in shadow, just as he must have been coming in from the darkness outside into the faint light within. Shit.

"Remy? It's me. Just me."

"Damn." A soft curse. A flick of the wrist and something flared against the stone of the hearth, sending out a spray of sparks and dust and stone fragments.

Logan stood there without flinching, squinting his eyes a bit against the sudden, brief flare of light. The kid had flung the charge at the only safe place in the cabin where it wouldn't shatter wood and wreak more damage than they could afford.

"Get a little jumpy while I was gone?" Logan said lightly and thought mistake as soon as Remy cursed under his breath, and scrambled awkwardly up, flushed embarrassment rushing in to fill the void where fear had been. Oh and the kid had been scared. He could scent it as clear as he'd scented the fear of those winter hare's he'd stalked and killed. So scared his hands were shaking - - or maybe that was the flash of anger that had come with the chagrin.

"Anything happen while I was out?" Logan asked, wary of what had gotten the kid into such a state.

"No." Sharp, angry answer. Remy stalked past, with no place to escape to but the little bathroom. Unsettled enough to need privacy to pull himself back together.

Logan watched the door shut with a thud. Stood there for a moment with snow dripping off the ends of his hair, weighing the situation. He'd been gone past dusk. He hadn't meant to. Had assumed reflexively that Remy could deal with a little solitude and that anything he couldn't deal with Logan would've heard from his not to far distance. He hadn't counted on what imagination and anxiety could do to a body. The kid wasn't a coward. He'd just been beaten bad and was due a little consideration. Due a little leeway in certain things. Logan had been a fool to stay out so long.

No help for it now, though. Nothing to do but start cleaning the hare for supper and let the kid come out of it on his own.

He had the stewpot over the fire by the time Remy came back out, straight faced and uncommunicative, walking a little stiff from too long a time spent sitting on the hard lid of the commode. The price of wounded pride, Logan figured and his mouth quirked a bit at the corner.

"Feel better now?" He had to ask it. There was too much of the antagonist inside him not to. Remy glared, knotted his fists in the blanket of the bunk where he'd settled and declined to answer.

"Don't blame ya, for being spooked. I didn't plan on being gone to long."

"I wasn't spooked." Sullen denial.

Logan lit a smoke and stared. Remy looked elsewhere, sullen eyed and resentful with all his protective doors sealed closed. Logan shrugged.

After a while, Remy murmured. "De cabin - - was making all sort of noises - - de wood creaking like somethin' was on de roof - - or maybe it was my imagination - -I don' know."

"She does that sometimes." Logan agreed. "'Specially with a roof full o'snow to weight her down. Sometimes the wind'll blow a clump of snow or ice from the trees and it'll hit with a god awful racket. Scare a body out o' a decent sleep."

"Oui. Maybe. Its just - - I'm not used to - - jumping at noises." Baffled. Embarrassed at the admission.

Logan sighed. "Ain't no shame in it, Remy. Happens to the best of us. You got reasons enough. But I ain't lettin' the bastard back here to do any more harm and you can trust me on that. And I ain't gonna look at you with any less respect 'cause o' what he done or that you're spooked as hell from it."

Remy shuddered, not liking it wrapped up in such a tidy little ball of words. Backed away from that subject quick, by retreating into silence. But after a while Logan felt his eyes on him. Could hardly tell from all the hair falling over his face and the shadows, but Logan knew the feel of observation.

The kid ate a little, but his appetite was still sparse. Still weak as a kitten, body still wracked by reoccurring bouts of fever, but nothing so bad as those first few days. Not a word passed between them until late into the night, when in a bout of restlessness, Logan got up to stare out the frosted panes of the window over the skin. Nothing out there that even his keen night vision could see. Nothing but snow and snow quilted forest. At least the storm had passed. In a week or so, when Remy was stronger, maybe he'd try to get them down that logging road and onto the highway leading to town. There were sure to be plows out and heavy logging trucks that even snowy roads wouldn't deter. He clenched his fists on the counter, cursing Creed for causing this. Damned psychopath. Damned murdering, raping psychopath. Too much to hope that the storm had bested him and that his frozen carcass was lying out there under the ice and snow waiting for the spring thaw.

There was a roll of bandages on the countertop and a half used tube of antibiotic ointment. It occurred to him that he hadn't changed the bandages over the worst of Remy's wounds. Infection was the last thing they needed on top of everything else. With a purpose to divert his frustration over the impotency of the situation, he swept up the supplies and strode over to the bunk. Woke the kid up out of an uneasy drowse and curtly told him to sit up, so he could to his back. Remy did, silently, sitting with his elbows on his knees while Logan peeled off the old bandages, swiped the crusted gouges with clean water and applied a new layer of ointment. Most of the scratches were on their way to healing nicely. A few of the deeper ones were warm to the touch and pink around the edges, oozing a bit of yellowish puss when Logan applied pressure. He should have been paying more attention. Shouldn't have been fooled into thinking the kid was self-sufficient just because that was the facade he was so good at putting forward. Some of those infected gouges were probably the reason the fever kept coming and going.

"Should have said something, you damn idiot." Logan grumbled, soaking away the crust over the wounds and pressing out the infection. Remy winced and clenched his fists, bent low over his knees now as if he were dizzy or nauseous. "Hell, more my fault than yours." He said that to himself, annoyed as he finished up.

"You okay, Gumbo?" he laid a big hand on one shoulder. Felt the very slight tremor of quaking muscles.

"Oui." Remy didn't attempt to push himself up.

"I'm done. Lay back down."

"Not your fault, Logan." Remy whispered from beneath all that hair. He shifted then, pushed himself up using Logan's knee as leverage and leaned in half supporting himself with a shoulder against Logan's chest. "You been there for me, mon ami. Not many other folk I can name who'd have done the same."

"No big thing." Logan muttered, edgy at the closeness, edgy at the kid's hand on his leg, at the smell of his hair. "You got more friends than you think."

"You believe dat?" Those red and black eyes fixed on his, a little feverish, a little - - intense. "Ain't nobody proved it yet." The fingers slid up his knee to his thigh, a light, fluttering movement that still made his muscles jump and his heart beat a little faster. What in hell was the kid thinking?

"I'm in your debt for that, no?"

"No." Logan stated firmly and caught the kid's wrist before those dexterous fingers could slid any higher. "No debt. And this ain't happening. You ain't thinking straight.."

Remy laughed and slumped against Logan's chest, his hair sliding against Logan's skin like living silk, cool and slippery and thick. Logan's arm came around him out of instinct, careful of the injuries he'd just tended. The splinted hand curled between them and the other one, released momentarily of Logan's grip rested with seeming innocence on that hard expanse of muscle between Logan's navel and his groin.

"Remy ain't thinking straight." He repeated Logan's assessment with a breathy laugh. "You so tactful, mon ami."

Logan scowled. "Didn't mean it like that."

"How you know, until you try?" Remy was fucking single minded in his delirium - - which Logan was convinced he'd fallen into to try this.

"Remy's real good at paying back his debts. Ain't nothing you'd regret."

The hand slid back down, unerringly finding the heat between his legs, unerringly surrounding it with firm, warm fingers. Logan drew a breath in shock, almost tossed the kid bodily off him if he hadn't been afraid of splitting open wounds that were already hard pressed to heal.

"I - - said - -" the pressure, warmth, sensation of it made the blood pound in his ears, made him momentarily at a loss to finish his sentence as Remy's palm pressed flat against the stiffening length of him through the material of his longjohns. "- -we - - ain't doin' - - this."

But his hand hovered, hesitating over catching the kid's wrist again and yanking him away. Hesitating just long enough for the kid's sly fingers to find the slit in his long johns and slide inside and then warm flesh was touching warm flesh and Logan's head hit the wall behind him in his sudden jerking reaction to that cataclysmic union.

Holy fuck. Fuckfuckfuck - - but the kid had skilled fingers. Thief's fingers. Agile and sly, slightly callused which made the friction all the more mind-blowing. And the kid's hair smelled exhilarating, his skin did. Enough to make Logan's head swim as he inhaled it. Everything reasonable inside him screamed at him to stop it now. He certainly had it in his power to do so. Could dump the kid onto the floor with a shift of his body. Ought to do it, even if it did hurt him, because it was the right thing to do - - not only for Logan's peace of mind, but because Remy's thinking was skewered and this whole notion of obligations owed was ridiculous and ought to be nipped in the bud.

"C'est tou'exact." Remy whispered in that guttural French of his. It's all right. It wasn't all right. It was as fucked up as anything Logan had ever let happen, and here he was slumped with his back against the wall, letting the kid pull the rigid length of him out from the fly of the longjohns, twitching all over as Remy's head slid down his chest, trailing long strands of hair that looked like blood stained silk. And god - - god, if he'd thought the hand had felt good - - the kid's mouth was like some twisted, evil version of heaven on earth. A warm, moist flicker of tongue. The enveloping hot wetness of his lips, of the inside of his mouth as he swallowed Logan whole. Just took him in up to the root in one fell swoop that had both of Logan's hands twined in the kid's hair of their own accord. He didn't want to look down, didn't want to see that auburn head rhythmically working his erection - - but like a tragic accident, he couldn't quite keep his eyes away.

No stopping it now. Not if he wanted to - - and he wasn't so certain that he did - - at least at the moment. There was something beyond the mere physical pleasure that made the blood pound in animalistic satisfaction. Something in the way the kid's lean, battered body curled along the side of the bunk, knees folded under him, the curve of his lower back, the one hand helpless against Logan's hip while the other worked in unison with his mouth to rock Logan's world. Something vaguely - - he hesitated at the term 'submissive' since the kid had initiated this and taken things firmly in hand against Logan's express wish. But maybe it was that hint of submissiveness that got the alpha male part of him in an uproar. That made his fingers tighten in Remy's hair and press his mouth further down around his cock - - that made him hold him there for a moment with the tip of his erection nestled down the back of the kid's throat while his eyes rolled back in his head and he shot his load hard and true down that same moist channel.

He shut his eyes, breathing ragged and harsh. Released his hold on Remy's hair when the kid tried to push himself up. The kid leaned there on one elbow and wiped the back of his good hand across his mouth. Logan's eyes focused on those lips, swollen and dark from sex. Moist. Curving slightly in a Cheshire cat smile. No ejaculation on his chin though. He'd swallowed that, each and every drop.

"See, not so bad - -" the kid started and Logan snarled and drew back a hand in sudden, outraged indignation. The smile faded and the kid flinched, ducking his head, in no position to easily avoid a blow. Logan averted it last moment, his knuckles a mere fraction away from a face that already had too many fading bruises. He caught a handful of hair instead and jerked Remy up and backwards, slamming him onto his back and looming over.

"You little - - fuck. Goddamn you - - what'd you do!!"

Remy glared up, anger fighting with apprehension in his eyes. "You know what I did. You enjoyed it and don't say otherwise."

"I didn't want you to - -" he couldn't say it. He couldn't lie and say it hadn't felt good. Hadn't felt like the best damned oral sex he'd had in more years than Remy had been alive. "Yeah, it felt good." He leaned down to hiss. "How many guys you have to go down on to get that talented at giving head, huh boy?" He imagined it was a good number. He imagined if he hadn't of highjacked the kid into coming up here instead of fleeing to the city he'd have probably added a few more to the list.

Remy's eyes narrowed. "Enough." He said, but it was bereft of anger. "Even got some practice in on your friend Sabortooth, before you came back."

Logan drew in a quick breath, felt like he'd been gut punched at that bleak statement. Drew back of a sudden and half knelt there at the side of the bunk, feeling the anger fade and wondering if the rage wasn't all embarrassment fed anyway. He ran a hand through his hair. His fingers were shaking. He laughed at the irony. He could go through a war and never get the shakes and here he was plagued by them as a result of one little blowjob.

"You didn't have to do that. You damned well didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to." Simple, quiet statement that made Logan glance up sharply. "An you wanted me a little, non? So it was equable."

"I didn't." It was a reflexive denial.

Remy lifted one finely arched, sardonic brow. "Whatever you say, mon ami."
 
 

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Logan felt like a cad. Felt like damned lowlife scum for letting the kid seduce his way into his pants. No matter that it had felt like it had. No matter that for a while there he'd been lost in it. In the sheer rush of sex and libido that had filled his veins and his brain and most certainly his cock. None of that mattered when it was done out of some sense of debts owed and penance's paid. He hadn't asked for it. He hadn't expected it and he damned sure didn't like that he'd enjoyed it. Surprising that Remy even considered it, after what Creed had put him though. But then, he supposed that the kid had been forced into a lot of things in his life that he didn't enjoy and didn't want to do. He wondered if this one was one of them. But, he seemed to recall Remy saying that he'd wanted to. He wanted to, for crying out loud! Now wasn't that a statement to make a man uncomfortable. To make a man feel a little itch in his pants all the way across the room from the problem in question.

It was the charm that had done it, he thought. It had just snuck up on him, working overtime just like the rest of the kid's physiology in trying to kick the infection out of his body. Damned charm that came into play when Remy was scared or threatened or wanted something bad enough or was just standing there looking like he did, with that cocky tilt to his head and that lean, graceful way he held his body. A man could ignore it most of the time. Save being cooped up in a one room cabin with the damned kid when he was on a quest for misplaced absolution.

"Damnit." Logan said softly and flicked the butt of his cigarette into the fire. Damnit, but if he didn't feel like scum.
 
 

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"If anybody made de mistake, it was me." Remy stood there, shivering at the door with the blanket clenched around his shoulders, glaring at Logan who'd escaped outside to unearth the wood pile. Logan hadn't spoken to him since last night. Logan was mighty unnerved and not liking it. Remy was floundering in the notion that he'd made a disastrous mistake. It hadn't seemed that way at the time. At the time, it had seemed - - right. At the time, he'd been picking up something from Logan - - something gentle and concerned while he'd been patching up his wounds - - that had just appealed to him. That had just made him go appreciative and quivery with longing because he hadn't felt that from anybody since before he and Rogue had had their parting. That somebody felt concern for him - - real honest concern - - and laid gentle hands on him at the same time - - he couldn't have been that far off the mark. And Logan had liked it. Logan hadn't stopped him until it was done and only then had he gotten all indignant and scandalized.

"Don' mean you have to pretend I'm not here." He took a few steps out into the trampled snow and curled his toes at the ice beneath bare skin.

Logan tossed him an agitated glare. "Get back inside, you freakin' idiot."

Well, at least he'd gotten a bit of conversation.

"Je suis désolé - - I'm sorry." He said it with heartfelt honesty and all he got for his efforts was a growl from Logan, who threw down his ax in irritation and stalked through the snow towards Remy like he was about to do him serious damage. Remy took one step backwards, feet almost numb from the cold, before Logan snagged his arm and forcibly relocated him inside the cabin.

"Stay the hell inside." Was the command before he turned about and stalked outside, slamming the door in his wake.

Remy muttered something foul under his breath. In short order there was the sound of wood being decimated. He sat down in the chair before the fire and glumly wondered if this was fixable. Wondered if he ought to even try. So he'd fucked this up like he fucked up almost every other thing in his life. Big surprise. He hadn't meant to. Maybe Logan was right. Maybe his head had been seriously messed up.

Maybe. Ha! What in hell had he been thinking to try something like that on a teammate? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! He'd already messed things up with Rogue. No matter how hard they tried, there wasn't any comfortable way to work together. Sex - - or the allusion of sex - - always got in the way. And despite certain presidential declarations to the contrary- - having somebody's dick in your mouth was sex, sex and nothing but sex.

His options here were limited since Logan refused to talk and teetered on the edge of violence when Remy pushed. Shut his mouth and hope it went away on its own. Right. Or run as soon as he was able and avoid the issue that way. The latter was more his style. He was good at running.

Logan stomped in with an armful of wood. Went about arranging it in the bin by the hearth with silent efficiency. Remy glowered into the fire, biting his lip to keep from blurting out something Logan probably didn't want to hear.

"Don't look like we're gonna get any more snow soon." Logan said, without looking at him. "By the end of the week, if you're up to it, we might try to hike down to the main road. Gotta fix you up something to wear - -"

"Why don't you just go now?" Remy snapped, churlish and sullen.

Logan slanted him a look. "You want me to leave you here alone?"

That bit of logic hadn't occurred to him when he'd recommended an out for Logan. But the little fingers of fear were not nearly so strong as the raging torrent of embarrassment he'd created.

"Oui. Why not? Won't take you but a day, by yourself. You come right back with something with wheels and den we be right on our way home."

"No." Logan went back to stacking his wood. Got up and went outside for another armful and continued as if he'd hardly paused, when he got back in. "I ain't leaving you here by yourself. Not with the likely-hood of him still being out there waitin'."

"He ain't out there. He's gotten bored and headed for warmer climates. No reason for you to stay." He wasn't sure he believed that. Logan didn't bother to argue. Finished with his wood and stood, dusting his hands off on his pants. It looked as if he wanted to say something, but he changed his mind, going over to the sink instead to light a smoke.

"You got one of those for me?" Remy asked softly. Logan looked in his pack. One lonely little stick left. He shrugged and offered it to Remy. Handed him his own cigarette to light it with, then went back to the sink to stare out the window.

"Didn't mean anything - -" the nicotine gave him a modicum of courage. "Not really. Not if you don't want it to. Just something that happened."

"What?" Logan didn't turn. "Just a casual fuck between buddies, huh?"

"It wasn't a fuck."

Logan turned then, a hard glint in his eyes. Something dangerous in the line of his mouth. He padded over, like a predator on the prowl, put both his hand on the arms of the chair and stared Remy in the eye. "You be willing to spread your legs for me, boy? Be willing to get on your knees and make it official? Or was the head the only coin you were willing to pay your debt with?"

He blinked, taken aback. Not expecting this attack from Logan. Not expecting this sort of wordplay and unprepared. It took him a moment to get his balance and reply. "If that's what you want. Oui."

Logan gauged him. Must have seen the seriousness in his face. Reached out and caught a few locks of Remy's hair and rubbed it between thick fingers. "Because you owe me?"

Again, he couldn't formulate an immediate answer. Logan didn't play with words often. When he did, he was uncanny. Remy didn't know what answer he wanted. Didn't know what he was fishing for. Being glib, at the moment, was beyond him. "Yes." He said, because debt was the only safe excuse he could come up with.

"Then that would make you a whore, wouldn't it. And pretty as you are - - and you do catch the eye - - I don'tt pay for my fucks."

Nothing came to mind to say to that. Logan remained there a moment, a big dog daring a smaller one to meet its challenge. Remy looked away, breaking that eye contact, feeling somewhat sick at the pit of his stomach. Wrong answer of course. Figured.
 
 

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He'd shut the kid up, which was what he'd wanted. Trouble was, he felt a little bad about it. There'd been that look in Remy's eyes - - before he'd collected himself enough to cover it - - of real pain. Trouble was, he was in a damned difficult situation, caught between the rational side of his mind, the side that held all his values and morals and beliefs about himself and the world - - and the devil-may-care portion of his mentality that liked to live on the wild-side and liked to drag tradition in the mud and damned sure had found the vision of Remy on his hands and knees with that tight little ass in the air before him an attractive one. And that in itself didn't bother him half so much, now that he thought about it, as the danger of it becoming addictive. He needed time to sort things out, to do some figuring, and the kid kept yapping at him, looking for redemption or forgiveness or invitation - - who the hell knew? He just needed quiet and the time to think and he could do that back at the mansion, where he didn't have to deal with the whether and a possible enemy out there waiting for him to let his guard down.

Another week stuck in the cabin with Remy and he'd either break down and strangle the kid - - or bed him. It was debatable which would be the bigger mistake.

As fate would have it, he didn't have too. For once, she smiled down on him in the form of a faint thawping sound that was too consistent to be the wind knocking about limbs. The kid didn't hear it until it was close enough to churn the snow around the cabin and Logan had already long since identified it, pulled on his boots and rushed outside to squint up into the pale gray sky of afternoon at the hovering machine that had made a maelstrom of their frontyard. It was a search and rescue chopper from the markings, and a helmeted form leaned over the edge and blared through a loudspeaker for him to step back and give them room to set down in the cleared area between trees and cabin.

The bird sank heavily into the snow. The propellers still swirling with enough force to keep the snow in the yard stirred up.

"What in hell are you doing up here?" Logan yelled, fighting his way through the snow to the open side door of the chopper.

"Ranger Mucullah alerted us that you might need some help when she didn't hear from you. Thought you might have gotten caught in the storm."

Logan laughed. God bless practical women. "Yeah, got a man injured in there. Was wondering how the hell I was gonna get him down the mountain."
 
 

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He put in a call to the mansion over the chopper radio, asking for somebody to fly down to Fargone to pick Remy up, take him home and fix him as best they were able. He wasn't up for that ride back. For any number of reasons. Not the least of which was there was an enemy out here that needed dealing with. Scores needed to be settled. Course the kid thought otherwise, He didn't say anything. Just bundled up in the extra jumpsuit they had on board the chopper and climbed on board with a hand from one of the air rangers.

"You sure you want to stay up here?" the chopper pilot yelled over the sound of the blades.

"Yeah. Got some hunting to do." He waved them off, backed away against the wall of the cabin while the bird heaved itself out of the snow and up into the air. A nice temporary escape from a problem that he couldn't be solved with six deadly claws. He'd have to deal with it eventually. But right now, with the snow dusting his face and hair and the chopper becoming a speck in the distance, he turned his attention towards dealing with the problem that he could tackle with the sharp edge of admantium.

It was time to take his pound of bloody flesh.

The End of the Cabin