Fan Fiction ❯ The Aches Within ❯ Début de lui tout (Start of it all) ( Chapter 1 )

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Title: The Aches Within

Genre: X-Men (Comic), Slightly AU

Rating: R-NC17 +

Beta: None (myself) so allow me to apologize if there are any mistakes

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Summary: When Jean, Storm and Kurt (Nightcrawler) seem to disappear off the face of the earth, how will Scott and Logan cope without Jean, and how can they be pulled through?

Pairings: Logan x Remy, Scott x Jean hinted, maybe some Scott x Remy (?) in later chapters depending on demand from reviewers

Main Characters: Logan, Scott, and Remy

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Notes: I am sorry if I have butchered the French language, as it is not one of my strong points, so most of my phrases come from online language translators

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Warnings: Explicit male x male romantic scenes, some foul language, violence later on in the fan fiction

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Silence. Silence seemed to envelope everything as of late, unshed tears, unspoken words of comfort that no one dared to whisper in case it set someone off on another bout of crying, chores left undone for days on end until someone decided to pick up the pieces. The person that picked up said pieces was Remy, more often than not.

 

As the seconds, minutes, hours, days, months and years passed him by, he dealt with every one as they came, but now, he wasn't too sure how to deal with them anymore…everything had changed, even though it had only been a few months. How could he cope with all of this? He really wasn't sure. It was as though time had stopped…or, at least, had slowed down, just to mock him, as it usually flew by, chuckling as the summer breeze swept it away.

 

Remy Le Beau was used to coping with grief, sadness, even anger, but to watch everyone else around him buckle and crack, and not being able to help them, was definitely one of the worst things he'd had to cope with in the entirety of his still relatively young life.

 

The reason for all of the sadness and depression dwindling the Mansion was due to the fact that Jean, Ororo, and Kurt were gone, or, more to the point and to be more accurate, they had disappeared, and were even presumed dead by some of the X-team and other `specialists' or, at least, that's what they liked to call themselves.

 

Logan had been inconsolable, although no one else seemed to notice but Remy, or so the young Cajun thought. The Wolverine had been training constantly, almost as if he wanted to punish himself for letting those military bastards take Jean and the others. They had been after him…Weapon X, or so he was adamantly claiming, and though that might have been true, it wasn't what mattered.

 

Scott was just as bad though, or so Remy thought, but also he was worse in many ways. He was emotionally grief-stricken and inconsolable, crying most of the time, and though Remy had tried to comfort him, he'd only been pushed away, again, and again. It hurt him immensely, more than he could express or tell, to see such a strong team leader broken like Scott was, and although the Cajun himself was upset and pretty well cut up on the inside due to Ororo's disappearance, he had decided to `chin up' and try to help the others around him, although so far it hadn't been working, though now, at least, Logan was talking to him properly.

 

The Cajun, however, was used to this treatment. He was used to being the outsider, the `Lone Wolf', the one who had to look in on the world, which he would most likely never be part of, and, it struck him as funny, how he and Logan were so alike in such a way.

 

One person who had accepted him for who he was had been Rogue, although now, their friendly relationship was on the rocks, again, as per usual. She seemed to blame him for things that he had no part in, blamed him for their arguments, and while he did start some, she often lay down the foundations, but enough of that.

 

Though Remy was known for his pros as a womaniser, he had lost interest lately in female company, and thus stayed in the Mansion more than ever now, although he was often asked to go for some reason or another, he refused. The Professor wanted him to stay still, and, for some reason, he did stay, fighting the urge to leave.

 

And, while mulling over all of these thoughts, he sighed, stretching out upon the couch in the main living area of the Mansion, staring at the wide-screen plasma television mounted upon the main wall, a frown upon his pale face, black and red eyes staring in an unseeing way, showing that he was clearly thinking about other things than the events on the news channel.

 

He was roused from his thoughts, however, when the door opened. He blinked once, then twice, staring at the familiar, masculine figure that stood in the doorway.

 

It was Scott.

 

// Mon Dieu…dis Cajun din' t'ink `ole Scott would be visitin' `im so soon //

The thought flashed through his head, and he shifted ever so slightly, slender body twisting with an ease that many envied. He made sure his charm was well in place, and let a tiny sigh escape his lips.

 

“Hey dere, mon ami”

He smiled, offering his small welcome, pulling his long, slender legs up to his chest, creating room for the other, although there was plenty of seating around.

“You O`k?” he asked, tilting his head to one side, shoulder-length hair the colour of tarnished copper, perhaps even auburn, falling to accompany the movement. His face was full of angles, and he was aristocratic almost in a way, high cheekbones and a rather fragile looking bone structure, full lips and a pouting smile. He was feminine, yet masculine at the same time, if that was at all possible. A nod was sent his way, and he sighed softly to himself, turning his head back to the screen of the T.V, absorbed again for a moment or two until he felt Scott sit down on the couch, and thus, he turned to face the other for a moment.

 

“I'm fine, Gambit. Just stressed.” He shrugged, and it became clear to Remy that his team-mate didn't want to talk much about what was going on in his head, so, he focused on something else.

“Non, it Remy t'you, mon ami, not Gambit, we friends, non?” He grinned in his usual feline manner, leaning back against the couch again, yawning softly, and showing white teeth and a pink tongue.

“Yeah, well, I suppose.” The Cyclops shrugged and looked at the T.V, frowning, his brownish coloured hair ruffled and mussed as was usual now.

 

// Dieu, dis gettin' hard for `ole Remy… //

He didn't quite know what to say, after all, he wasn't used to having much of Scott's company in the first place so he didn't feel it was his place to pry, so, he left the other man alone, and instead just stared at the TV screen, although he took nothing in.

 

They sat there for roughly half an hour; just enjoying one and other's company, until Logan walked in with a can of beer in one hand, and a bag of snacks of some sort in the other, although clearly they weren't healthy, although neither was the cigar in Logan's mouth…but, the man had every right to be unhealthy, it wasn't like he was going to die like everyone else.

 

“Cajun, Scott” he nodded. It was clear to Remy's keen eyesight that he'd been working out, as he had a towel slung carelessly around his neck, and a pair of sweatpants on, with nothing else, his rather hairy, heavily muscular chest on show, his hair wild and untamed, like a wolf's.

 

“'Lo Logan” Remy nodded, sliding fluidly off the couch in one smooth movement, the material of his loose silk pants making hardly any noise at all. Remy was pleased with his own physique, although often he thought he was too skinny for his own good, after all, he was tall and lithe, perhaps too wiry, but he was strong, and he knew that. His own chest was hairless, and there was only a thin trail leading down from his navel, but the waistband of his pants stopped that path from being visible to the eyes of others.

 

Unusual eyes flickered back to Logan, who seemed to be watching him with a feral look in his eyes, so Remy offered him a cheeky grin, like always, supple, elegant hands reaching out and gripping his staff easily, twirling it easily in his loose grip, heading towards the Danger Room, slender hips swaying like a dancer's would, and it was a well-known fact that Remy liked to dance.

 

He more or less felt the presence of Logan behind him, and when he turned, he grinned, having not yet left the main living area.

“Bon jour, mon ami, can Remy do sometin' for Logan?” he asked, almost purring the words, knowing that he was flirting, yet not quite knowing why he was doing so. Did he really want to get involved with Logan? The answer was probably a wise no.

 

 

TBC

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