Company.
By Kyrri

The chains rattled as the figure moved in the darkened room. They
shifted as he shifted, leaning forward against them, letting the pain
ripple through him from his wrists and shoulders as he let them hold
his full weight. It hurt, but the pain was his only companion and in
some twisted way he valued it's company.

It kept him sane. It reminded him that he was indeed, still alive. It
kept the beast hidden deep within; cowering in the farthest reaches
of his mind, his heart and his soul. It made him human,

Human… after more than three hundred and fifty years he wondered what
right he had to claim to be such. He was certainly bound and caged
like an animal. Not that it surprised him; those times that he could
fight free of the beast and regain some semblance of cognisant
thought. It didn't surprise him at all.

He drifted, in that place between sleep and wakefulness and wished
that the other would come, the pain a dull reminder that he wouldn't.
Not the physical pain - that only served to emphasize the emotion -
only a simple reminder of his broken heart. So he continued to drift,
his shoulders and wrists going numb, the absence of feeling echoing
his thoughts. He wanted him to come… wanted him, wanted him so badly.

It hurt so much and still he didn't come. Didn't make the pain fade
away like he used to. A footstep echoed through the pathways of his
mind, painfully loud in the silence. Still he drifted. The footsteps
were coming closer, a light chuckle following quickly after, like
music to his ears, but no more than a memory. Fading as quickly as it
had come.

"Why did you leave me?" he murmured to the walls of his cell,
uncomprehending – refusing to comprehend. Sanity was overrated after
all. The beast knew, but he wouldn't tell him. The pain knew, but it
wouldn't speak in any way save to lash out at the fragile remains of
his mind.

The wind shifted as he drifted, it tugged at his hair, almost just
like fingers… it caressed his cheeks and brushed across his lips…
something was wrong, but he didn't care. He drifted.

Wind… it played across his neck and breathed into his ear, the
laughter closer now – always closer, always coming nearer and always
unwilling to share the joke. Perhaps the joke was on him, he mused.
That he should live while they all…. He pulled away from the thought
as though he'd touched hot coals, flinching and refusing to look.

They'd left him, that was all. They'd all left him… He'd left him.

Drifting was easier than remembering, even the beast agreed with him
on that, whining from the corner where it hid from the pain.

The bolt of the door was lifted, he could hear it being slid back,
before the door was pushed open slowly, light almost blinding him,
almost penetrating that safe little place where he was drifting,
almost but not quite. His head turned towards that light, he didn't
really care who was in control right now… him or the beast… it didn't
matter and he didn't have the energy to move. He wanted to drift. It
hurt less that way.

"Wolverine?" the word penetrated his senses as he shook himself and
glanced up. There was a figure silhouetted in the light coming from
the corridor as he stood in the doorway.

He blinked at the figure, trying to bring it into focus. It wore a
coat that could have been a murky brown. He had the brief notion that
he could have sworn it was white a moment before, but his mind was
foggy from drifting and he let it go.

The figure moved, revealing a head of shoulder length brown, no wait,
auburn, hair. "Wolverine?" the man asked as he moved forwards towards
him. His voice sounded strange, almost familiar, but… he could have
sworn…

"Logan?" briefly he wondered since when he and the so-called doctors
were on a first-name basis, but then the figure stepped out of the
light of the door, letting the light flood inwards to chase away the
darkness. He looked at the figures face and gasped, hope beginning to
burn, warming the cold emptiness he had become so accustomed to.

"You came back…" he whispered, his voice nearly breaking,

The man frowned at him, red on black eyes seeming baffled for a
minute.

"You came back…" he repeated, begging for some other reaction.

Auburn hair brushed against a pale neck as he shook his head. "I
check up on you every now and then, Wolverine. You know that."

"Liar!" he shouted, but the beast recoiled, pulling away. Briefly he
wondered if it knew something he didn't, but anger broiled within
him, pushing the thought aside. "You left. You never came back! Why?
Why did you leave me?" the last words escaped him in an angry growl.

The kid backed away from him, brown trench coat brushing against his
legs, red on black eyes wide, when the man called Wolverine yanked at
the chains. "Calm down, Wolverine." The auburn-haired man took
another step back. "I'll just go get something to help you sleep."
The figure took another careful step backwards.

"No, you can't leave me again!" he yelled, feeling the beast leap to
life within him, as he flung himself forwards against the chains,
tearing free from them, not caring that he'd snapped the bones in his
wrists as he threw himself at the figure. It hurt, the pain flaring
through his body as the kid thudded to the ground beneath him. It
hurt, but not as much as his heart.

He could hear people yelling, but he didn't care, he couldn't care.
His claws snaked out, warm liquid trailing over his knuckles as he
sliced downward. The auburn-haired man made a sound, deep in his
throat, choking. The animal in him raved as blood spilled, wanting
more. The warm place of his drifting dreams shattered as another
bloody breath bubbled in the boy's throat… the sound made him shudder
as he retracted bloodied claws.

Horror, it hit him as his mind slid free from the tattered remains of
his safe place.

He glanced down at the light brown eyes below him, the face that held
them bloodied and bruised, brown hair trailing dishevelled over the
shoulder of a white coat. He couldn't move, only stare into those
staring eyes. He could almost swear they were laughing at him.
Mocking him… `This will never be you.'

He felt himself being pulled back, booted feet connecting repeatedly
with his ribs, fists connecting with his stomach, as he was pulled
upright. But it didn't matter – all he saw where those eyes and their
laughter, turning from brown to red on black in his mind's eye.
Laughing… always laughing… always leaving him behind.

"Help me," he cried out as he caught sight of a wavering figure,
smoking a cigarette in the shadows, red on black eyes watching him
intently as they beat him, pulling him back towards his chains. "Help
me," he whispered brokenly, as his lover looked on, his brown trench
pooling around him where he sat leaning against the wall of the cell.

Remy just shook his head, demon-eyes sad as he whispered
softly, "Sorry, cher, can't. I'm not here… remember."

Chains snapped shut on his wrists, almost cutting of the circulation.
A fist connected painfully with his jaw, but he didn't care. He
stared at the apparition, blue eyes begging for salvation. Salvation
that would never come…

The pain was his only company now and it had become a welcome friend,
indeed.