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Chapters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
 
 
 

If Ever - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Painted Eyes
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 16

"'Dey won' be no more unhappy wit' Remy wakin' dan Remy be - git 'dat outta 'dere, Henri', 'dis be a natchul man! Meddlin' femmes shoulda lef' t'ings 'lone from th'git, all 'dis folderal be -ovah- ..." Weak patois thick as it was when things were too much for him greeted Jean as she entered the MedLab. It was overly warm for his poor fur-bearing physician, but Remy didn't handle even slight chills very well just now and Hank thought always of his patients first. Especially those he still wasn't sure were going to survive.

"He's been awake all of an hour," Hank told her with determined exasperation, "and though he's fairly lucid, he is also attempting to get out of bed already despite the fact that he can barely lift his head off the pillow." Patiently he re-attached and adjusted misplaced i.v.s and monitor leads that Remy surreptitiously took off and out right after him, muttering a steady blue stream of grumpy French and English.

"Gotta pee, homme! Ain' a robot, don' need all 'dis crap. M'alive n' I shouldn' be n' 'dat's contrary as 'dis t'ief evah been! Not'in t'do f'it jus' now ... wan' m'own bed in m'own house on d'riverwalk where 'de folks ain' wantin' m'balls f'breakfast. Ccch, c'n feel 'em from here, me."

Ororo started to speak, but Jean's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"You could let me shield you, Remy, until your defenses are stronger."

"Non." Automatic as ever, stubbornly independent; Ororo smiled to herself at this small sign of his spirit's recovery.

"Then let me show you something ... wait, wait, it would be easier for you and, given your current impatience, much faster. And nobody wants your balls for breakfast who dared think it around me, or say it around Ororo, or Jubilee, or Logan." Listing his friends and noticing how surprised he was to find the list that long.

"Or me." Hank murmured with a toothy grin as he got the catheter back in, Remy yelped and then flushed hotly, glaring at Hank as his bladder emptied itself.

"Gon' get you f'dat - n' you ..." a shake of his finger at Jean, "distract Remy on purpose."

"Let me show you, Remy." Jean would not be distracted herself. A surge of his old unwillingness to have his mind touched was quickly eased by the remembrance in her smile - smiling at him despite having been everywhere in him, it still struck awe. So he shifted the rebuilding wreckage of his defenses, which went about reconstructing themselves apparently without needing him, and let her in again, his trust bought forever. He wasn't sure what anyone knew about what had taken place between them, whether Scott had said anything or she had, where everyone stood, why Jubes was suddenly so familiar with him when she'd always been so awkward before ... he was full of questions, it seemed.

*It was Sinister* Jean telepathically warned him before the vision of that white toothy face blinded his brain.

*Know 'dat, felt 'im m'self* Harsh even silent and she felt how increasingly hard it was becoming for him to hold open his shields.

*Be quiet, please, and let me finish* The mental rebuke earned her a flicking frown, but he subsided and let her feed him most of what had happened that night that he hadn't been aware of. The idea that they didn't all hate him was hard to believe, and she didn't lie that there wasn't a faction he might justifiably think of as enemies, but harming him hadn't been their intent without Sinister's influence, or indeed his own.

Logan had stopped them ... Ororo's voice half-remembered in his defense and Henry's gentle hands amidst pain like he'd never experienced. And Jean.

Jean was touched by the direction of his reaction: Not who had hurt him, but who had *not*. Other memories sparked in the seductive warmth of his exotic eyes when he looked up at her and she could feel herself blushing as well at how nice seeing that blush made him feel. For a moment she indulged them both, because now the flirtations she'd enjoyed more than she admitted had to end. She could not hurt Scott nor allow the others to be suspicious of every word and look between them. She tilted her head with a admonishing glare.

*I can make you forget, you know* A teasing threat she regretted for the vague pallor the thought provoked and she sighed; sometimes Remy without his defenses was like dealing with an oversensitive child.

*Try, for me, not to remember what you're remembering unless nobody is around to see it. I am a married woman and this is ...*

*Je desole, chere, Remy nev' do dat again, Je suis desole ...* Sincerely ashamed of himself and meaning the hand over his heart vow, sincere in his desire to keep the friendship more precious than he could say; she felt it warmly. By his eloquently melancholy expression, he understood what she was doing and accepted that this friend he would have to hold at arms distance.

"Remy not real good at not bein' Remy wit' 'de femmes ... " He groused half-heartedly, then smiled crookedly. "Guess I practice wit' you, eh?" A cool long fingered hand slipped into hers for the reassurance of her touch, and it eased him. He sighed and let her go.

"Unfortunately, none of what y'showed me changes an't'ing. C'est désespéré (It's hopeless). Long as I live I be Sinister's target, 'dis could happen again."

*Not hopeless, Remy ...* He came half up off the bed with his heart in his throat at Xavier's unexpected psychic touch, casted arm banging into the i.v. stand as the shards of his psychic walls tried to resurrect themselves in a single incoherent instinct that just missed trapping Jean. Made him nauseous and dizzy trying not to hurt her, to restrain what he frantically realized he could not, suddenly everything pushed, refused with all his old revulsion despite the delicacy of the telepathy and the concern it expressed.

"Can' help 'dis, y'know I can' ..." Grated desperately, alarm trembling, his good hand flailed abstractly toward the Professor's study then cupped over the back of his head in his lap, moaning with the effort not to puke, to keep ... something ... from snapping loose as it so ferociously wanted to do.

"Remy, what's ..." Ororo, confused at this seeming madness, but Jean's concern was clear.

"Geddout right now, old man, warnin' y', me ... " Muffled with effort and the Professor withdrew at once, shaken to find himself wondering what consequences he, too, had sensed that felt more dire than either wanted to be certain of. It wasn't his nature to shy off sources of power, they were the engines that drove the dream, God-given tools to save humanity, but until he knew how to approach it, and Remy, he paid attention to the warning instinct to let this sleeping dog lie.

"N' don' be doin' 'dat no mo', ei'der ..." Muttered viciously into his hands, breathing harshly, "Ain' give no one license t'me, non'." With a slipaway look at Jean, half apology and half hoping she understood his openness was not something he could maintain. Indeed, it was already disappearing behind the rebuilding shields and was nothing he could help. She eased him back and stroked down his arm with a friendly smile, not liking how white he was or the tremors he couldn't seem to stop.

"Don't worry about it, Remy, we'll work on it, you and I."

He relaxed a little then, watching her anxiously, his hand curling around Ororo's with desperate affection. Then his eyes closed on a sigh and he fell asleep with the abruptness of the fragile.

 

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