Also: Be wary for format errors. Single full stops (periods for Americans) in the middle of a sentence are Fanfiction.net's way of mutilating my three full stops in a row. ( . . . ) However, I do realize that there may be my own errors. It's just that I HATE to correct my own work so it often gets done poorly.

Ch. 4 - Recovery

Westchester:

        Jean, of course, had to say something, if only to Logan. *You aren't going to let him leave the Mansion are you?*

        Logan considered her question for a moment. *I'll try to get him to stay, but if he really wants to leave, and I don't blame him, I'm not gonna stop him.*

        Outside the med bay, Remy was peering up and down the hallway with an adorable look of confused frustration. Logan cleared his throat to catch his attention then pointed in the direction of the elevators. And off Remy walked in that direction, though with somewhat less confidence then his over-confident exit from the med bay had been; and Logan strolled after him, content, for the moment, to follow.

        They reached the elevator, then took it to the main floor, where Remy looked only briefly surprised by the radical change in décor from metallic and sterile to, well, homey. But he was quickly drawn to the stairs, Logan in tow, then up the stairs, completely ignoring a surprised Joseph and his uncomfortable greeting.

        Remy stopped after the second flight of stairs, and began stalking curiously down the hallway. He stopped at the end of the hallway, between two doors that seemed somehow so familiar and across from a window showing the dark of night. Finally he looked at Logan.

"That's your room, Remy," he said gently, pointing. "And that one's mine."

        Remy approached his door, and reached out to touch it, but stilled his hand before it reached the door. After a moment, he pulled his hand back, turned around, and pointed to the other door.

"Would you like to go into my room, Remy?," Logan asked, speaking as one would to a child. In truth, he wasn't even overly upset about Remy's condition. He'd been expecting so much worse, he hadn't even thought the young man would ever wake up. But he had, and so what if he was sporting a few glitches? He may never recover entirely, but surely education and training could ameliorate his condition. Logan knew Remy, he understood him from having experienced Remy's life through Remy's eyes, and there was no way Logan couldn't love him, to the point that it didn't matter to him how that love should manifest. It didn't really matter that Remy was no longer what he used to be, if he crazy or child-like; Logan would have liked to love him as a lover would, but if he just needed someone to protect him, care for him, and not take advantage of him - he could do that too. And more than that, he could do that and still be happy that he could be there for Remy.

        Remy nodded and Logan punched in the key code, allowing the door to be opened. "After you."

        Remy cautiously entered, but curiosity soon getting the best of him. Logan knew he'd been in his room before - he could remember Remy lounging against the door, waiting for Logan to find a cigar, or whatever else he couldn't find in his messy room - but one would never have guessed from the way Remy was methodically inspecting everything in the room. He poked at piles of clothes and old newspapers with his feet, but touched little else, and was particularly enraptured by the two Japanese swords on his wall. This development, of course, prompted an explanation from Logan, who was very much attached to the swords.

"These two are my babies. They were given to me by a great samurai from Japan who had deal to teach to an arrogant man who thought that he hadn't much to learn. He was good man." Logan removed one from the wall, and after lovingly looking at it for a moment, he handed it to Remy. Remy held it by it's handle, studying it with definite interest, then began to position it in different ways. He was remembering something, though he couldn't tell what - an ability to use these sort of weapons perhaps. He was suddenly gripped by the desire to fight - not against Logan, but just in general, because he had the distinct impression that he was quite good at it. In fact, though they were out of context, he could remember dozens upon dozens of fights. He remembered injuring, and being injured, and he remembered. blowing up things.

        Distracted this more curious revelation, Remy quickly handed the sword back to Logan and began to inspect his palms and fingers. How had he been able to do that? But Logan smiled at his actions and answered the unasked question. "You can charge material. 'Cause you're a mutant, remember? You can touch things, raising their kinetic energy, then they explode. You remember?"

        Slowly, Remy nodded. He did remember. Indeed, just thinking about it, staring at his hands, made his fingers feel a somewhat prickly, as if they wanted to discharge energy. For perhaps the first time since he'd woken, Remy smiled. He remembered this, and he remembered how to do it; and he had no doubt in his mind how lethal this could be, if properly wielded.

        Logan wasn't quite sure what Remy was smiling about, but decided to view it as a good sign anyway. He was about to suggest going outside and seeing if Remy could charge anything, but the loud growling of the Cajun's stomach suggested something else, reminding Logan that he been being fed intravenously for almost three weeks and that it had done absolutely nothing to put more weight on the thin frame. "Whadya think? Time for a late night snack?"

        But Remy just looked at him like he didn't know what he was talking about; so he tried again. "Food?"

        This time Remy smiled and nodded, so Logan led him down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor, when he felt the briefest brush against his mind. Remy felt it too, he could tell, by the way Remy's body went tense and his expression cautious. But was only Jean, probably wanting to make sure they hadn't left the Mansion, so Logan continued on to the kitchen. But he was grateful for the late hour and the consequent absence of people.

        He then proceeded to watch Remy devour truly obscene amounts of cold leftovers. Again, it would have been funny, if it wasn't so sad, and Logan brooded deeply on this. How many times had the boy been starved? Boy? When had he started thinking of Remy as a boy? He was twenty two and had lived more than the average man in that short span. But Logan couldn't help it.

        After Remy had eaten to the point where he looked as though he would be ill (Logan hadn't the heart to suggest to firmly that Remy take it easy, as his stomach probably wasn't used to solid food), Logan suggest that sleep might be a good idea. He himself was tired and Remy looked about to drop to sleep (or get ill) right where he was. So Logan put forward the question that had been weighing in the back of his mind since having visited his room.

"Rems,?" he started, getting the Cajun's waning attention. "Where do you want to sleep tonight?" But big, coal and fire eyes stared back at him expressionlessly.

"You sleep in your room?," Logan tried again. But Remy quickly shook his head.

"A guest room?" This option made Remy noticeably uneasy, but he didn't shake his head. "Or, there's my room if you want."

        Logan had tried, and succeeded, to put forward the last option casually, but he truly hoped Remy would take him up on his offer. He absolutely refused to push himself on the Cajun, even fore supposedly medical reasons, but he didn't want to think of the trouble he could get up to (or simply into) if left on his own. He very much wanted keep an eye on his young charge.

        Remy pondered the options, as well as his confused mind would let him, though it was hard, like being extremely stoned. He tried to go over what he knew (of relevance): 1. Trusting leads to pain. 2. The frightening chaos of his own mind, certainly to overwhelm him if left to his own devices, could be better managed in the presence of others. 3. Logan cared deeply for him, and wanted to protect him. 4. Logan made him feel safe and not so alone. He felt comfortable with Logan. He knew, he knew, he wanted to stay with Logan, but some part of him was obsessed with point 1: Trusting leads to pain, and it managed to counter every reason to go with Logan; for it was that powerful. It was only defeated by the cavalry, the reinforcements, the greater Truth that had to be retrieved from a forgotten cache of personal philosophy: Life is pain.

        So he decided to go with Logan. If life was pain, then there is little one can do to hurt one's self more. Logan had watched his inner struggle, and was relieved that Remy had accepted, though disheartened by the defeated nature of the acceptance. On the way back up the stairs, Logan stopped off in one of the guest rooms and picked up a single mattress, which he dropped onto the floor of his room, not too far from his own floor mattress. Remy barely seemed to notice, let alone care, that the mattresses were on the floor and collapsed to sleep on the smaller one even before Logan had the time to put on the sheets, though he did cover the thin, sleeping body with a heavy blanket before going to bed himself.

        Logan woke later in the night to whimpering coming from the other bed. He laid listening to it for an indeterminable amount of time until it began to escalate into cries, and the sound of mild thrashing could be heard. He crawled over to Remy's bed, leaned against the wall, and pulled the distressed form into his arms and lap. He himself was no stranger to nightmares, for indeed they had haunted him for almost as long as he could remember. Pain. Isolation. Confusion. Yes, he felt he could understand the young man who's hair he was now stroking. and he felt a sudden desire for a smoke. Remy's body had calmed and he thought he might just be content enough, if he could spend the rest of life smoking a cigar while holding and comforting the sleeping Cajun.

        Logan drifted off like that, but was woken again, this time by the somewhat rough handling of his body as Remy desperately untangled himself. "Remy?," Logan vaguely asked before waking up more fully.

        Remy had crawled to the corner of his bed (most likely because it was also the corner of the room), and he had begun to mumble and rock himself back and forth. He didn't respond when Logan inched forward, nor when he called his name, though he flinched and stopped mumbling (Logan's excellent hearing judged that he wasn't actually saying anything anyway) when Logan touched his shoulder. But Logan persisted and began rubbing Remy's back as he rocked, until the rocking slowed to a stop. Logan took another look at him and, seeing that he looked almost coherent, asked if he was alright.

        Remy looked him in the eyes for a long moment, then glanced down and shook his head. "Hey," Logan said comfortingly, reaching out and gently touching a smooth cheek. "It's okay. Things'll get better. When day comes, it won't be this bad."

        When his hand felt wetness, he moved his arms to draw Remy into an embrace. This time Remy helded, burying himself into his chest and shoulder as his body was racked with sobs.

        Remy eventually fell asleep again, allowing Logan to lay him down and return to his own bed with a head spinning with thoughts and memories. He stayed up for a while yet, thinking of ways to encourage Remy's return to. sanity? Normality? Adulthood? He didn't know where, but he was going to help him get there anyway.

        Remy seemed embarrassed the next day (when they finally got up around noon) and he still didn't speak, but he did, somehow, seem generally less edgy. Logan decided to take it as a good sign. He also decided that if Remy was going to stay in the Mansion, he would have to get reacquainted with it's residents; so he thought it a good idea to grace the dining room during the serving of the communal lunch.

        It actually went well. Rogue had packed some bags and disappeared earlier that morning upon learning of Remy's waking, but everyone else (except the Professor, who took his lunch separately) was there. Warren ignored him (his new grievance being that Remy had told no one of his empathic abilities) and Bobby had only given him a brief, small smile before continuing his conversation with Warren, but everyone else was friendlier, despite Remy's obviously out of character behavior. Jean offered both Remy and Logan to help with anything they might need (though Logan didn't think Remy had quite understood the offer), and Hank said that he would like Remy to come down for a check up within the next few days. But it was Storm who'd really found her heart in Remy's suffering: she positively doted on him. And Remy seemed to appreciate the attention, he even cracked a couple of weak smiles. It actually made Logan a little jealous, noting that Remy and Storm seemed to interact more smoothly than Remy and himself - despite the fact that he couldn't talk and couldn't always understand what was being said. Is that what he needs? Babying? Am I even capable of doing that? Probably not.

        They stayed at the table until Storm, Remy, and Logan were the only ones left, prompting Logan to bring up the subject of what to do next. Storm thought a tour of the premises would be a good idea, to which Remy agreed. By this point Logan had guilt tripped himself into allowing Remy to have the choice of. what? Guardian? Why could their be only one? It didn't matter that Logan didn't even know what Remy should be choosing, only that there was a choice - between him and Storm. So he entrusted Remy to Storm's safekeeping and went to vent on some not so unsuspecting badies in the Danger room.

        A couple hours later, Storm and Remy found him having a smoke on the porch. They approached from the garage with large smiles on their faces - Storm's somewhat more canny than Remy's open one. "Hey Logan," her beautiful voice purred. "I think Remy here's got something he wants you to see."

        Remy nodded vigorously, and though Logan gave Storm a suspicious glance, Logan agreed, almost immediately rewarded by Remy grabbing his hand (first time he initiated contact!) and dragging him towards the garage. Storm was left with a smile on her face and love in her heart, thinking of her two brothers that had suffered so much.

        They were not in the garage long before Logan got a pretty good idea what Remy was so excited about. Indeed, he was pointing at his motorcycle - a beauty, but also a real powerhouse. But Logan doubted Remy had the coordination, let alone the memory, to ride it safely. "Let me guess. You want to go for a ride."

        Remy was really smiling now, and for the first time, it was a smile that revealed an understanding deeper than what was immediately apparent. He smiled as though he knew taking the bike out was something that Logan would really want to do. And Logan was warmed, not just because he had repeated and lucklessly insinuated in the past to Remy that he would love to take his bike out (it was a phenomenal bike), but also because in that smile he recognized the man Remy had been just months earlier.

"Hell. Why not?" Logan swung a leg over the bike and made himself comfortable. A mischievous smile presented itself. He could already feel how great the bike was and he hadn't even started it yet. "Well? What yah waitin' for Cajun?"

        Remy, still smiling, mounted the bike and wrapped his arms around Logan. Logan tried to ask about the key, but was quickly silenced by the fastest, most efficient, least destructive, and least conspicuous hotwiring he had ever seen (plus, one hand!). Logan was not a man easily impressed, but even he was impressed. Then, just like that, they were off.

        Remy's bike was racing bike and as soon as they had left the Mansion premises, Logan sped up, taking the curving (but relatively empty) roads at a breakneck speed. Logan even heard Remy laugh several times, and it pleased him to no end, though the laugh sounded strange. After about an hour of driving, Logan pulled off the road into a rest stop for lunch, after which they headed back for to the Mansion. In the garage, Logan decided it was time to broach the subject of Storm.

"Rems?" Large eyes gazed at him. "You know, you don't have to stay in my room. Storm would take care of you if you want."

        Remy didn't look particularly happy about that comment; and Logan was beginning to find his constant silence unnerving. So he continued. "I just mean that I might not be the best company. You have options, and Storm might be a better option."

        Remy was having difficulty wrapping his mind around what Logan wanted. He thought he understood the words, but they were contradicted by what he could sense the man was feeling. Logan loved him, and he was jealous of Storm, Remy could tell. What did Logan want? Did he not want him around? At a loss with regards to how to respond, he settled for a simple response. He shook his head wildly then hugged the hairy man - not just any hug, but an affectionate one bordering on snuggling. Logan was surprised by the turn of events, but without complaint. What he had really needed was evidence that Remy wanted him around, and Remy's behavior seemed to qualify as such, at least in his mind.

        So Remy continued to sleep in Logan's room and reside mostly in Logan's company, though both Jean and Storm tried to work with the Cajun. There was a substantial amount of effort on the part of the X-men to forget what had happened - in order to avoid both guilt and anger and, most importantly, in order to focus on the present and the future. Those that couldn't forget (Rogue and, to a lesser extent, Warren) simply had to seethe in silence and ignore the living ghost of what Remy used to be.

        He also spent a substantial amount of time with the Professor (a distrustful relationship on Remy's part) sifting through his memories, rebuilding parts of his mind, and gaining control of his empathic powers. Progress must not be overly emphasized though, for Remy did not 'recover' completely, nor would he ever. He adamantly refused to re-enter his room or to contact any of his past acquaintances; and he made absolutely no advancement towards verbal speech. Instead, Remy and Logan had taken to spending long hours with McCoy, so that Remy (and McCoy) could perfect their sign language and so that Logan could learn (he was proving quite promising). It was also difficult to determine how much of past events Remy remembered, as he seemed most determined to be as non-communicative as possible. On the other hand, most learned processes (except speech and, to a lesser extent, reading and writing) were remembered relatively quickly. He was back on his motorcycle within a week of awaking, and though he continued to be plagued by nightmares, his degree of control had extended to the point that he no longer woke Logan in the middle of the night, though he was not wrong to suspect that Logan still knew. Logan also worked out with him, and knew that he was, rather tentatively, experimenting and refamiliarizing himself with his ability. Within three weeks of waking, Logan suggested to Cyke that Remy's capabilities be tested in the Danger Room, and Cyke agreed.

        Cyke monitored from the Observation Room overhanging the Danger Room, as Logan and Remy warmed up and then began sparring. Logan, however, was soon presented with a unique difficulty. Remy had nodded, assenting that he had understood the purpose of this exercise, and yet he did not spar - not properly anyway. He moved smoothly, quickly, efficiently, and in a perfectly defensive manner, refusing to attack and just deflecting Logan's own attacks. Remy was fast and agile - two points he had in his favor, compared to Logan's strength and injury endurance. And he used his speed and agility to dodge punches and grabs and to inflict time buying hits, but he refused to engaged, and Scott got frustrated after a while.

        Over the intercom, "Hey Logan! We gonna see some real fighting sometime today?"

        After a loud growl to the fearless leader, Logan turned to Remy. He didn't understand what was going on either, and Remy was just watching him, looking healthy and mischievous and sexy, sweating, with a strange but appealing expression on his face. "Remy," Logan signed, trying again. "Just practice. No one will get hurt. It's not hard."

        But Remy shook his head vigorously, for he didn't understand either. All he knew is that he did not want to attack Logan. It felt. unnatural. "No," long, graceful fingers responded. "I don't want to attack you. I like you."

        Logan sighed. From Remy's behavior he didn't think that Remy's argument was one he could be easily dissuaded from. It was a little frustrating, but nothing that would discourage Logan too much. There had been so much progress in the last two and a half weeks that he couldn't complain that there were still quirks to be overcome. At least now he got the impression that there was an intelligent and mature, if only partially coherent identity just on the other side of the wall of childlike signs (the extent of Logan's sign vocabulary) through which they were forced to communicate. "Fine. I am going to talk to One-Eye for a short time. Wait here please?"

        Remy nodded and Logan left to the Observation Room. Once there:

        "Cyke. I think the problem is that he doesn't want to fight me. How 'bout we run a simulation?"

        "Okay by me. I've got the perfect candidate for the job." As he ran through the set up sequence, he began to brag about the simulation. "It's a new one, but don't worry 'cause I got the bugs out. It's perfect to assess a fighter. It gets progressively harder as the fighter continues to defeat stronger, more skilled, and generally more opponents. Plus, Remy should do good because the opponents are relatively slow. Sound okay?"

        "Yeah, fine." Logan hit the com button. "Hey Remy! We're going to put you through a simulation, okay?" He saw Remy give him two thumbs up. Smiling, he continued. "It will get progressively harder, humanoid opponents, no special abilities allowed, and we will monitor to make sure you don't get hurt, okay?"

        Scott indicated he was ready, and the simulation materialized. The lights in the Danger Room dropped (Scott adjusted for Remy's light sensitive eyes, figuring the Cajun would need as much help as possible) and two featureless and blue unarmed humanoids appeared beside the wall. And almost immediately Logan could see a difference in Remy - his muscles were tenser, his knees more bent, his arms more readied, considering the (in Logan's opinion) rather creepy simulated fighters a real threat.

        But the change was more astounding than first thought, especially with Scott's knowledge that even at the lower levels the opponents were physically stronger than the Cajun. The first two simulated fighters were both 'killed' (skulls smashed together) with such efficiency that it seemed more an execution than a fight. Remy's moves were controlled and calculated and his mastery of fighting strategy unquestionable. The next two opponents were also deftly defeated with two swift neck breaks. Again, he returned to his defensive stance.

        Right after the third couple appeared, all hell broke loose. Scott, seeing that the level at which Remy was fighting was far below his apparent capabilities, raised the program to a level near that of which most of the X-men would be required to train (if they had ever used this particular simulation before). He was the leader of the team and it didn't even occur to him to ask Logan; furthermore, he thought that too much over protectiveness was probably not the best answer to Remy's problems. Scott saw Remy as a survivor - he needed to be pressed to fulfil his potential, not coddled to minimize his damage.

        The third pair of simulated opponents (obviously larger than the previous ones) came barrelling at Remy almost as soon as they materialized. Remy was clearly surprised, and his actions lost their controlled quality as reflex and desperation kicked in. He managed the dart out of the way of one of the fighters, using the simulation's own velocity to throw him to the ground hard. Unfortunately, this gave the second opponent time to tackle him, and though Remy managed to twist away, he was off balance and took a powerful in the chest.

        Up in the Observation Room, Logan was threatening to go ballistic. When he'd realized what Scott had done, he had moved to action only to find Scott's visor trained on him, and Scott's voice warning him not to interfere (Remy was fighting remarkably well anyway) and that he was making sure nothing went wrong. So Logan had allowed it, but he was now watching the escalating fight with his own escalating rage, beginning to convince himself that he would be forced to kill Cyke when Remy was injured as a result of this stupid fucking simulation.

        But Remy recovered relatively quickly, whipping around and kicking out so that he was behind his opponent and able to ram his boot into its back. The kick had an impressive (for Remy's physiology) amount of force behind it and the opponent crumbled, registering a couple of broken vertebrae. But its defeat did not pause Remy for a moment, who was instantly in position in front of the second opponent, as it was getting to its feet. It tried to punch him, but Remy darted aside and grabbed the simulated head (which had neared as the simulation executed the punch). He then slammed the face area down on his rising knee, and, feeling a satisfying crumbling of flesh-like matter giving way, he let that body drop too.

        The next round of opponents appeared seconds later, but Remy was already prepared, though there was some surprise at encountering three figures this time. He was getting accustomed to this. game. Except that he had had difficulty understanding that it was just a game, just practice, just a test when he'd been sparring with Logan, and this was becoming even more so. His mind was narrowing, in a channelled version of a berserker desperation; his memory of time and place faded and his concentration on surviving became everything.

        Within five minutes the three simulations had also been debilitated, with little more than a few bruises worth of damage to Remy. The first's ribs had been broken, severely puncturing the lung, and the other two had had their skulls violently crashed into each other's. But no matter. Almost instantly, three more appeared, this time covered in what appeared to be tiny tiny spikes, which Remy recognized would make any skin contact quite painful. Then the three advanced towards him, this time he backed away, slightly at a loss and trying to buy time. He was pretty sure he couldn't win this fight with only his legs and feet (as he figured his boots and jeans were the only materials he was wearing strong enough to protect form the spikes) - maybe if there was only two of them, but not three.

        Remy glanced around, out of desperation, the way one does when realizes that the immediate here and now does not hold the required means to accomplish an absolutely vital task. But he was lucky, and caught sight of the Observation Room out of the corner of his eye. It brought only one thought into his battle-centric mind: Logan. And it was enough, for that word/name worked as a key and suddenly his mind was flooded by powerful, overlapping memories with a common theme - fighting. It was intermingled with fear and desperation and anger, but they were in their strong forms that can drive individuals to feats beyond endurance, completely blotting out the crippling weak forms. The memories were accompanied by an energy rush and Remy suddenly felt very confident, as if he were in his element, as if fighting came naturally.

        He waited until his three opponents had come stalked almost within arms reach, then both hands shot away from his body towards the figures. His arms snapped straight for the briefest of moments, his hands mere centimetres from the spike skin before being almost instantly retracted. The entire sequence of events (which earned him a spiked and therefore bloody punch in the face) had taken less than a second, and it only took an additional second for Remy to retreat back before two almost identical (and rather peculiar) explosions manifested at points indistinguishably near to the chests of two of the simulations. They were peculiar in that the explosions were spherical except for the section of the explosion that would have extended to include Remy. So Remy didn't even feel enough of the shock wave to be thrown off balance (though the punch was a bitch), but the same could not be said about the third opponent, who was down for less than four seconds before Remy planted a couple of debilitating kicks in his faces.

        Up in the Observation Room, things had grown completely silent. When the spiked simulations had appeared, Cyke again had his hand at his visor, training it on Logan, as Logan had threatened to go downstairs and end the program by ripping his claws through the door of the Danger Room. But the cursing and anger had been quickly silenced by Remy's performance, and now they just stared in bewilderment. They had never seen Remy fight so well before, and he had always been a good fighter; not to mention the fact that he was using his charging abilities in ways and with a power that neither had ever seen before either. His speed and accuracy was. amazing. Logan didn't say anything as Scott raised the level of the program again, though he didn't know that Scott had never intended the level to be practiced at.

        The next round came, spike again, even bigger, and there was six of them this time. But Remy didn't even hesitate, attacking as they materialized. Six quick jabs later (as well as a few defensive kicks and what would surely turn into a large bruise on his hip), this round had also been demolished, sending the program into its final cycle - though Scott had never considered the final cycle a level. It was a sort of doomsday scenario.

        Four, eight, twelve. Remy quickly stopped counting how many were materializing around him in favor of dealing with the ones who were currently closing the circle in on him. He knew a hopeless situation when he saw one, he knew there were be no fighting out of this one. He'd been feeling strangely disembodied for most of the fight, so he was not surprised by his lack of fear. In fact, he felt comfortable, and there was something he wanted to do before he died.

        The idea had come so naturally that it didn't even occur to him, though he had never tried to do it before. He simply dropped to the ground and planted his hands on either side of him. Several long seconds passed (during which Scott made a move to freeze the program, but was too slow to do so before witnessing the result of Remy's actions), allowing the simulations to approach to the point of being under a meter away. Then the floor erupted in violent explosion. .