“We thought you should see this, Mr. Logan. This building is suspected to be Essex’s Headquarters. We only recently obtained the warrant to search the place.  We know how important your work is…” The detective kept talking while Logan silently followed him. Logan was barely paying attention to him. Even the investigation, work that had taken six months of his life, was unimportant right now. The only thing that he could think about was a certain red haired Cajun that he’d left sleeping in his bed.

He’d never been with another man before and the very idea had never seemed appealing to him. Not even a little bit, but with this incredibly sexy, sensual creature everything seemed to go so smoothly, be so right.

He’d never had such a good night. The pleasure was beyond anything he’d known. And now, when he had a little time to think calmly about things he understood he was in love with Remy. He decided he’d talk to the young man after he got home. He’d force the kid to tell him what made him so scared, what his problems were and he’d help him. Then they’d have a chance for a relationship.

“In this cabinet, we found some papers, but there wasn’t anything important. However, they are still here…”

Logan stopped in his tracks. It wasn’t the look of the room or what the detective was saying. What surprised him was the scent.

The room had been closed for the past week and the scents still lingered in the air.

Maybe it was his mutant ability to remember scents he’d encountered even if only once.  Maybe it was the memory of their intoxicating night fresh in his mind. Maybe it was because he used to associate this particular scent with something sensual. His lover.

The room smelled of Remy. And Essex.

What was the kid doing here? Logan never believed in coincidences. Never. It was too close. Remy in Essex’s home, Remy in his house, Remy avoiding explaining his reasons, Remy trying to seduce him…

Feeling his heart clench he turned around and left the building. He didn’t notice the shouts and surprised stares from the police. He didn’t even notice that he was running to his car. As soon as he got into it he started the engine and put it in gear.

The road back home was longer than anything in his life. His heart pounded and his mind raced trying in vain to find a reasonable explanation for all this. He refused to think the worst. As soon as he reached the house he jumped out of the car, barely stopping to slam the door closed and run. The fourth floor seemed higher than ever. When he was in front of his door he knew.

There was no one inside. His senses told him right away that Remy had left the flat some time ago. Slowly he entered, still refusing to believe the worst explanation. No. Remy couldn’t have betrayed him like this. But the flat was empty, not even a trace of the young thief. He directed his steps to the bedroom, their mixed scents hit him hard, right in the gut. He nearly fell, the wave of emotions, memories and pain were so strong. His throat tightened painfully, he couldn’t breathe.

Slowly, as if in a trance he entered the small room and looked around. Everything seemed to be in place. Usually he would be able to trace his movements by scent but the air was filled with the mixed scents of sex and passion. It was overwhelming.

Slowly, almost painfully, Logan sunk to his knees and rolled the carpet back. With shaking fingers he reached to open the secret hiding spot. The click of the lock was like thunder in his ears.His heart was pounding and his vision swam
 

The box was empty.

He wanted to scream, wanted to cry out in pain and anger. Wanted to tear something into pieces, slash and destroy in helpless fury, but all he could do was to stare into the empty proof of betrayal and feel hot, salty tears running down his cheeks.

He hung his head and sat there, still and immobile, thinking about all the times he should have known, should have seen…

Finally, his shock passed and the pain and heartache was replaced with an equally strong, different emotion.

In a flurry of movement he jumped to his feet and, with a loud SNIKT, he released his claws and started slashing, destroying every single proof of his foolishness, every trace of that false bastard he’d learned to love.

Now, he’d learn to hate.
 
 

* * *

 Remy stood in the small alley, barely aware of the rain pouring from the sky all day. He has been wandering for hours now, his fingers touching and tracing the disks in his pocket. The cold touches of rain were like still-remembered wet lips touching his body, soothing, arousing, cherishing…

He came to a stop in front of a shabby phone booth. The thunder cracked flooding the dirty alley with sharp, white light. But he hardly noticed. The pain and self-disgust was too strong. He wondered just who had he become to betray such a true soul. He put an evil bastard above Logan. Was it worth it?

He shivered. He was cold, SO very cold since he’d taken those damned disks from their hiding place. It seemed as if the two small pieces of plastic drained all the heat from his body.

Before he realized what he was doing, he picked the phone up and dialed the number he knew by heart.

“Essex.”  Came the cold, low response.

“LeBeu here,” he said, still idly playing with the disks in his pocket.

“Good. Do you have the disks?”

“Non,” he answered before he realized what he was saying, “Need a lil’ more time.”

There was a long, unnerving silence and finally came an answer.

“Do not fail me boy, you know you will be punished. The information you need … you know that I will give them to you ONLY in exchange for … different ones.”

“Gambit knows.”

Remy swallowed. What the hell was he doing?! He was quickly loosing his chance in favor of some stranger? Was he insane? He should have learned by now that the only person that cared about him was himself. And making Essex an enemy of his was no good at all.

He closed his eyes and leaned onto the booth’s plastic wall. Stupid Cajun. Very, very stupid…

* * *

 Essex put the phone down but still kept watching it as if it had some hidden answers. There was something in LeBeau’s voice that kept him wondering. He didn’t believe the man. He was almost sure that he had the disks. Maybe he wanted to push the price up? But surely he knew that Essex wasn’t the type to play such games.

Still deep in thought he pressed the comm button.

“Mr. Creed? Please come to my office,” he said in deceptively soft tone.

Soon the giant blonde entered his office. Slowly, he measured the brute man in front of him. He didn’t like him. Usually he liked to be surrounded by intelligent, sophisticated men. This one had none of those abilities. He was cruel, brutish, aggressive, probably psychopathic… but also inhumanly strong and had the ability to regenerate. He made a perfect weapon.
 

“Yeah, Boss?”

“There is a person I need you to bring to me. His name is Scott Summers. He is a police agent. A friend of… Wolverine’s.”

Essex knew that those two had a history together and the hate was still very much alive. He saw the completely black eyes narrow and a snarl came from the beast in front of him. Yes. Sabretooth would do anything to hurt Logan.

“He is also a mutant, quite powerful. He’s capable of shooting laser blasts from his eyes so you can’t allow him to see you.”

“Consider it done.”

Essex leaned back in his leather chair and went back to studying the view outside his window. If everything went according to plan, he would get rid of Logan, Summers and that pitiful thief all at once.

* * *

 Scott Summers was tired. The case he was working on was finally nearing the end and he had to stay longer at work in order to finish things. Now however he couldn’t wait to go back home to his wife. Jean. The love of his life had told him recently that she was pregnant. He felt bad that he had to leave her alone at nights but promised himself that he would change his working hours when the child was born. Family was more important than work.

He stopped the car on the red light and massaged his neck. He was tired.

Suddenly somebody knocked on the window. It was some homeless man clad in dirty, torn clothes. He was obviously asking for some change. Scott still vividly remembered his own days on the street and lowered the window to give the poor man some money.

He barely had the time to register what happened when something at the side of his neck hurt. He touched it in a strangely slow movement and saw a tranquilizer dart.

Fuck!

He knew he was in trouble. // JEAN!!! // He screamed in his mind, hoping that his wife would receive the telepathic shout before he passed out.

* * *

 Logan slammed the bottle down when he heard the intense banging on the door. He was unsuccessfully trying to drown his sorrows in a bottle of  Jack Daniel’s and was not happy that somebody interrupted him.

His flat was a mess. Every part of it had traces of his rage.. Every single thing that had smelled like that traitor had been destroyed. Every single trace of him had been erased.

Angry he wanted to shout to leave him the fuck alone but then he smelled HER. Jean Summers. His love once. Now wife of his best friend. She smelled of fear and… baby. Curious he opened the door.

There she was in long dark coat, fiery red hair surrounding her beautiful yet pale face. Large green eyes were filled with such worry and her scent told of despair and fear.

Her eyes widened when she took in his disheveled state and saw the trashed room behind his back.

“Jeannie, what happened?” he asked in a coarse voice.

She could smell the alcohol on his breath but she knew he wasn’t drunk. He never was. His healing factor recognized alcohol as a poison and neutralized it. Yet the haunted look in his hazel eyes was foreign to her.

“It’s Scott… he was kidnapped.”

Logan looked at her dumbfounded for a minute then let her in. His mind raced to find possible explanations and the ones it found were the ones he wished weren’t true.

He believed Jean. She was a powerful telepath and telekinetic and shared a special bond with Scott. She must have felt it happen through the link.

He let her in.

“When?”he asked, looking at her slightly rounded figure when she took the coat off.

“An hour and a half ago…” she stopped talking when she realized just how the flat was trashed. The rage and fury evident in every single cut.

“Logan! What happened here?!”

“Nothing,” he said gruffly.  “Don’t worry about it. We have to find Scott.”

* * *

 Remy was standing in front of a large fireplace in his luxurious condo in one of the most expensive buildings in the city. He was still trying to decide what to do and couldn’t.

Suddenly the phone rang.

He approached the little, antique table and picked up the elegant black phone receiver.
 

“Allo?”

“You wanted me to keep an eye on things…” said the voice on the other side.

“What happened, Robert?”

“Scott Summers was kidnapped on Essex’s command.”

“Merde!” Remy cursed. He remembered Logan’s file and knew it was his best friend.

“Y’ sure about it?” asked Remy.

“Yeah.”

“Do y’ know where he was taken?”

There was silence on the other side.

“Drake…” Remy’s voice became ice cold. It was no time for games.

“Gambit… Remy… you don’t want to do something stupid, do you? Like going after Essex? It would be plain suicide, you have to know that…”

“Jus’ give me dat fuckin’ address!”

There was a loud sigh on the other side. No matter how harsh they talked to each other, they still were friends.

“Just don’t let yourself be killed, OK?”

“Address…”

“Okay, it’s 27 Elm Street. It’s one of Essex’s headquarters, guarded better than Fort Knox itself. I’ll fax you plans right now.  You should get them in a minute.”

“Thank y’, Robert.”

“Yeah… just take care of yourself, Okay? I don’t want to attend your funeral.”

“Oui.”

Remy put the reciever down. The fax beeped and started to spit out sheets of paper. He looked at it and finally knew what he had to do.
 

TBC