X-Men Fan Fiction ❯ Origins ❯ Chapter 11

Title:  Origins, ch 11
Author:  Jukebox
Pairing:  Logan/Remy
Feedback:  Always appreciated to jukebox_csi@yahoo.com
Rating:  PG-13 for now, may go up later

Archive:  If you think it's worthy, then absolutely!  Permission granted.  Just let me know where so my fragile ego will be stroked

Disclaimers:  Doing this only for therapeutic value.  Not making any money off it.  All the familiar characters in this fic belong to Marvel & Stan Lee.  I'm broke, so sueing me would be like trying to squeeze blood from a turnip.

Notes:  This is an AU because empathy and spatial awareness are just too cool for Remy not to have.  I want to thank my betas, LoganBerry and Lex, for making this story better than I ever hoped it could be.

Summary:  An AU version of Remy's introduction and subsequent joining of the X-Men

Warnings:  I don't know French or Cajun French, so my apologies to people of those areas if I butchered the language in this fic.  If I put any in this fic, it came from online translators and La library archives.  Because this is an AU, some of the characters in this story may seem OOC.

Words between / / are thoughts or mental speak
Words between * * are flashbacks
Words between ~ ~ are lyrics to any songs that may be used in the fic

CH 11

Remy walked sluggishly toward the door leading to the Professor's office.  He was in no hurry to meet with the telepath and start his 'healing' process, whatever that meant.  But, no sooner had he paused to raise his knuckles to the door - attempting to gather his courage and shields for the upcoming session - than the Professor called out to him from the other side to bid him entry.  It was not like Remy was surprised by that fact, after all the man was one of the world's most powerful telepaths.  He knew his shields were formidable against most of `his' kind, but against Charles Xavier he knew there could be a struggle.

“Ah Remy, please sit.  Give me a few moments to finish this document.”  The Professor was professionalism personified, smiling warmly at the youth. 

As he waited, Remy had the opportunity to really inspect the office, something he had not had the chance to do in his first visit.  The oak desk at which the professor sat was rich in detail.  It had intricate veneered inlays running along the edges, with a swirling fleur de lys design in the center panel at the front, finished off with clawed feet on each leg.  On the wall behind the Professor was an original painting that the thief immediately recognized as authentic and priceless.  The painter, well known, used rich characters and vibrant colors to create a scene of everyday life in olden days.  Remy mused at the amount of money such a piece of art would command, and how much food and medicine that might buy the Morlocks for many generations.  He cut that train of thought, not wanting the older man to pick up on it.  There would be time later on to pinch what he needed from this place.  Of that he would make sure.

Continuing to wander, his eyes skimmed over the nearby bookcase that extended from floor to ceiling.  So full was the unit, not a single spot remained available on any shelf.  The perusal of titles revealed quite an impressive collection of master works, along with theory behind various topics and a multitude of genres.  The man was well read.  Remy supposed he should be intimidated by that fact, but truthfully, he could not careless.  It's not like he was a stupid man himself, he just had not had the opportunities that the Professor obviously had growing up.  Besides, his interests ran more in the lines of espionage and mechanics, though he would keep this collection in mind should he continue to encounter insomnia; nothing would put him to sleep faster.

Survey of the room completed, he turned his attention to the older man across from him, trying to recall what he read in the limited file his current boss had provided.  It was hard to tell in his wheelchair, but the way he composed himself made Remy speculate the man was almost as tall as he, with a heavier physique, and looking far younger than he truly was in years.  The man was a genius, a geneticist and obvious head of this so-called school, as well as the leader of an `insane group of terrorists intent on taking over the world'; if his current employer's notes were believable.  But, Remy wasn't so sure.  Behind those indigo eyes that leaned more towards the blue end of the spectrum, there was a mark of compassion, not insanity.  Perhaps the thief should re-evaluate his initial opinion of the man. 

“So tell me, Remy, how do you feel about world domination?”

Then again, maybe Magneto's files were correct.  “Uh…hehn?”

The Professor smirked as he looked up from his paperwork.  “Just trying to get your attention.”  He brought his hands up into a steeple below his chin to focus completely on the boy.

It took a moment to register, but an answering smirk slowly appeared on the Cajun's face.  “T'ink dat may be a little ambitious for me, but I'm willing to give it a shot.”  He shrugged in nonchalance as the professor chuckled. 

The older man then grew serious.  “How are you adjusting?”

“Fine”

Xavier paused a moment to see if anything further would be said.  Seeing that the boy was not going to contribute any more, he continued.  “Is your room satisfactory?”

“Oui.”

Undaunted, he tried to engage the boy again.  “The other residents will be arriving in another couple of days.  You will be able to meet them then.”

“Hn”

Xavier arched a brow.  They sat there in a silent 'battle of gazes' until Remy finally caved, lowering his eyes to the desk as the air around them became uncomfortable.  Xavier watched the boy begin to fidget under the scrutiny, inwardly amused at the intimidation a crippled older man could cause a healthy vibrant youth.  Taking pity on Remy's awkwardness, Xavier brought his hands back down to grasp a pen in order to take notes. 

One thing the Professor never did was follow a recipe on counselling.  Each mutant that entered his office was unique; requiring their own set of parameters and pathways in order to be successful.  There was no one tried and true method for dealing with people with special talents.  Rather, he attempted to study each pupil and adjust his questions accordingly.  But, he was having a difficult time with this particular individual.  Some signs were there, but overall the boy's body language was hard to interpret and all he could definitely read at the moment was that Remy was nervous.

“There is nothing to fear, Remy.  We are not here to judge you or force you into telling us anything.  It is important to us that we earn your trust.”

Remy quit fidgeting, for the most part, and tilted his head slightly as he challenged that statement.  “What make you t'ink Remy don't trust you?  Came here on my own, eh?  Dat should mean somet'ing.”

Xavier took in the stubborn set of the jaw.  “In answer to your first question - No, I don't think you trust us.  As for the latter, yes you did come here.  However, I feel that you came to us as a last resort.  Perhaps you tried to learn control on your own before seeking us out?  But, you are correct.  It does mean something that you finally came to us.  May I assume that something has happened in your past to cause you to seek other help?”    

/Logan didn't tell him?/  It looked like the feral had kept the conversation from the previous night private after all, and that caused a tingling sensation somewhere in his chest.  But that also meant something else.  His jaw sagged as he simply stared, mind reeling from the insight that was a little too close to home, and he checked his shields though he felt no breach.  The Professor must have recognized something in the boy's expression as he quickly raised his hands in mock surrender.  “I have not read your mind.  I told you before that I will never enter someone's mind without their permission, unless there is a dire need.”

Xavier watched as the boy turned away from him to stare at the door to his office, as if seeking the shortest route to escape.  With a sigh, he lowered his hands, deciding to change the topic for the time being.  “Ok. Let's talk about the mechanics of your power for a moment.  Tell me how they work.”

Remy's brows drew together in confusion.  “Already told you once before.  Can blow t'ings up.”

“Yes, but that's not what I meant.  Can you feel the power building up within?  Can you feel it release into an object or is it that you feel the object itself becoming excited?”  Xavier paused for a moment, considering.  “Do you feel you have some control over it initially, and if so, can you tell when it is beginning to slip from your control?”

Remy simply stared at the man as he thought about the questions.  How exactly did his powers work?  It wasn't something he was ever conscious about, rather it was always a part of him; natural.  He was slow in formulating an answer to give the man.  “Seems like I can feel de molecules in an object getting excited.  Don't t'ink de charge come from me, more like de charge be in de object and I just bring it out wit' a touch.  Mas..” Remy paused, looking inward in thought before focusing once again on Xavier.  “dere be a tingling sensation.”  Almost immediately his memory of the night in the kitchen and the card game came to mind.  The spark that seemed to ignite when he touched the feral was something he had never experienced before when touching another living soul.  He felt himself growing warm at the memory, his skin pimpling with the ghosted feeling that had been there that night.

“I see.”  The professor scribbled some notes on his pad, canting a look towards the boy as he finished.  “And when you lose control?  Can you pinpoint why?”

Fingers raked through auburn hair, a nervous gesture clear to the older man.  Remy found a sudden interest in the carpet at his feet, a card appearing from no where to flip back and forth between the fingers of one hand.  Xavier took in all these signs and scribbled more notes covertly in his pad.  “When….” Remy shifted a little in his chair. “when emotions be strong, seem like dat's when control slip.  But not always.  Seem like mostly extreme anger or when Remy scared or in pain.”  He shrugged as if he couldn't figure out anything else to add.

Xavier frowned at the use of third person speech.  It was something he would need to explore at a later time with the boy.  He already suspected extreme emotions were the cause, knowing that powerful emotions usually triggered a mutant's powers to respond in kind.  “Yes, I recall the Danger Room session when your exhaustion and pain contributed to the overload.  If I had not shut you down, the damage would have been extensive.”  A guilty look appeared on the professor's face.  “Again, I am sorry for that.  Tell me, have you ever lost control to the point of massive destruction?”

The pain that entered the boy's eyes was unmistakable.  “Only once.”  He would not contribute anything further to that answer, but it was enough for Xavier to understand.  But still, he needed to push the boy to open up if possible.

“And did people die when this happened?”

Remy's gaze drifted towards the window, watching the clouds gently float by without a care in the world.  For a moment, he thought he could make out shapes in the sky of family members faces as he remembered them on that day; his mind transporting him into the past.  His eyes began to water unexpectedly and he blinked a few times to clear them.  It still hurt even after all these years, maybe even more because of the suffering that followed.  All the punishments he endured, however, could never make up for what he did, even if it was an accident.

It was obvious to Xavier that he wasn't going to get a verbal response to his question.  But truthfully, he had seen enough in the boy's reaction to speculate that the answer was yes.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Non” Remy whispered. 

“Remy..”

The thief turned his glittering eyes towards the older man, unshed tears evident as he pleaded. “Please Professeur, Remy don' wanna talk `bout dis.”

Again the third person speech pattern appeared, along with a heavier accent.  Distress was evident and the older man decided not to pursue it further, inclining his head in acknowledgement of the plea.

Without realizing it, Remy lifted his palm to rub away the moisture from his eye, a sniffle coming involuntarily.  “Can Remy go now?  Got chores to do.”

Xavier was ready to argue with the boy, the session having only just begun.  But seeing the desperation in Remy's face, he decided it was enough for one day.  There would be plenty of time to delve deeper in future meetings.  “Very well.”

Remy rose to leave, but paused at the door when the professor called out for him.  Without turning back to look at the older man, he simply waited.  “Remy, I don't want to push you or cause you pain.  It is not our goal here at the school.  But, there are some things that must be faced in order for you to learn control.  We want to help with that, but you have to meet us half way.  Trust is a two way street.  We are willing to give it to you, but you need to be willing to return it.”

Remy closed his eyes for a moment as those words sank in.  “D'accord.” He said before stepping into the hall and closing the door behind him.  He leaned his head back against the door and stared up at the ceiling.  Why had he not met these people years ago before his life took a darker path?  He still had a job to do, but suddenly he wasn't sure if he could.  Everything here was a contradiction to what he had been told and now the conflict building within him threatened to be his undoing.

With a sigh, he pushed away from the door and decided to start on his chores.  Since his primary duties for the day included changing all the linen in the resident's rooms and washing the laundry, he decided to collect his own clothes first.  He didn't have much and everything he had, save for what he was wearing, was dirty.

><><><><><> 

After collecting his possessions and the sheets from his room, he headed for the facilities on the first floor.  The laundry room possessed only one washer/dryer unit, a fact that probably caused more than one argument among the residents.  In his mind, he could just see a line forming to use it.  Briefly he wondered how often they had to replace the overtaxed machines.  After throwing in his clothes and pouring in the detergent, he turned the machine on and watched nothing happen.  Blinking in confusion, it took him a moment to realize why no water poured into the basket.  He turned and made his way down to the lower floor, searching for the feral.

The swearing and cursing echoed off the walls and he grinned as he followed the sounds to the intended target.  Logan sat on the ground, wrench in hand, as he stared at several fittings on the tank.  “Need some help mon ami?”

Logan merely sighed.  “It's the damn pipes.”  But he didn't elaborate.  Looking up at the younger mutant, he couldn't help but grin.  “Sure Cajun.  Grab a tool.”

They spent most of the afternoon working on the pipes and fittings which ran to and from the tanks.  Neither spoke much, there was no need, they both seemed instinctively aware of each other's role in the repair process and they carried out their tasks seamlessly.  When the last of the work was completed, they stood back together and admired their handiwork.  The units were purring like kittens, the temperature optimum.  Logan, extremely satisfied with their handiwork and without thinking, clasped Remy on the shoulder and gently squeezed.  “Thanks!  Ya saved me quite a bit of time by helping.”

Remy tensed momentarily at the unexpected touch, but relaxed as the warmth of the other's hand radiated through his body.  “My pleasure.  Mas, now I'm behind on my own chores and ..” he glanced down at his grease covered shirt and pants “…I'm filt'y with nuttin to wear.”

Logan stepped around the front of the boy and glanced at his shirt before looking up into ruby eyes.  “Well, I think I got something you can wear til yer own stuff's clean.  An' one good turn deserves another don't ya think?  I'll help ya with the rest of yer chores.  Come on.”  Without another word he put all the tools back into the storage bin from where they had originally been retrieved, then headed upstairs, expecting Remy to follow.  When they made it to Logan's room, he rummaged through the drawers of his chest, pulling out a button up, long sleeve flannel shirt and a pair of old worn jeans.  “Go take a shower kid. I'll be here when ya finished.”

After his shower, Remy headed back to Logan's room to find the older man changed and refreshed from having completed his own shower.  As the boy knocked and entered, Logan turned around, he took one look at the boy and chuckled.  “Well, guess I won't have to worry `bout ya borrowing my stuff in the future.”  The shirt was too large for the slender youth.  Despite being buttoned all the way to the top, it was sliding temptingly down his shoulder to expose creamy skin; a sight that Logan appreciated.  The pants were baggy on the boy and rode high on his legs, exposing the dusting of auburn hair on his lower calves, outlining the obvious difference in height between the two males. 

Remy smirked.  “Yeh, I make quite de fashion statement in dis, mon ami.”  They both laughed as he struck a silly pose, before heading out to spend the rest of the dwindling day on Remy's chores.  The afternoon seemed to pass quickly in the feral's company and by the time the last bed was stripped Remy had all but forgotten the morning's events and the uncomfortable meeting with the head of the school.

End ch 11

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