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"Scars"

Scars

Warnings: Mature themes throughout the story, dealing with rape, torture and the psychological traumas of imprisonment in a concentration camp. Sexually explicit scene in Chapter 23.

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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
Author's Notes

Scars

PART 29

Two hours ago he was at Harry's. He had spent most of the day indulging in wine, women and song. Or at least cold brews and the heat from hustling a few good games of darts. And Celeste. The past few days he had fallen into the same routine. Get out of the house early. Come home late. Avoid Rogue.

Until events fell into place tonight that forced him to deal with his feelings. She was gone. That much he had been expecting. Girl was always running away from her problems. Storm, Eric and Valerie were gone too. That was the first sign that this wasn't one of Rogue's usual 'leaving to think things out' jaunts. Finding out that Scott and Charles were locked in the study sent a definite chill of warning down his neck. Jean's psychic request to join her and Hank downstairs was the final bit that had his nerves heightened with tension.

He had walked in, not knowing quite what to expect. Certainly not prepared to see Jean's head tilted against Hank's shoulder as they watched a dozen tv screens. It hadn't taken long for the news to slam home. Whatever information wasn't force fed to him from the televisions, was provided in quietly subdued tones from Jean and Hank. Rogue had decided to join Valerie's U.N. mission to New Genosha. Storm and Eric made a last minute decision to accompany her.

The plane was shot down shortly after entering New Genoshan air space. The U. N. had convened an emergency session and the representatives were outraged, demanding that the United States spearhead an immediate all-terrain assault. Of course, the fact that New Genosha was rumored to possess advanced weaponry that many of the U.N. members would love to get their hands on, was never mentioned on record. They had left him then, politely leaving him to sort through this latest crisis while Hank concerned himself with Rogue's health, and Jean concentrated on the logistics of the pending rescue mission.

Remy rubs the weariness from his eyes. The noisy babble of a dozen reporters in one language or another, all echo the same litany. Tragic disappearance of the U.N. entourage. No radio contact. The New Genoshan government denying any involvement, but oh so graciously offering their full cooperation in a search and rescue mission.

His eyes light on a grainy bit of film transmitted from the surveillance camera on board the plane. Twenty seconds that tear through his life. Even with his eyes closed, he can see the flickering images burned into his mind. Relives those moments of seeing Rogue's face, blurred by the smoke and fire on board, looking over her shoulder from the pilot's position. His thumb flicks across the remote. Frame by frame he clicks through the scene. As he has ever since the transmission was received. Even through the static, the final words are chillingly clear.

"Ah can't hold her together--we're goin' down!"

He can count on one hand the number of times he's seen that look on Rogue's face. Fear. He can count on one hand the number of times he's felt his own guts knotted this tightly.

**Into de lion's den.**

He hears a metallic whoosh as the doors slide open and Logan enters.

"Anyt'ing?"

"Cooper just got back. Chuck an' Cyke are grillin' her now."

He sets the six pack squarely in front of Remy, removes two cans and with a quick snikt of his claw, pops the tabs on both. He takes a couple of quick gulps, then wipes the moisture from his lips with the back of his hand. Remy remains still, absorbed by the flickering glow of the televisions. Logan saunters over to the screens.

He pops the claws on his left hand and slices through the electronics, sending a shower of sparks and burned metal raining to the floor. All of the tv sets fizzle and fade to black, leaving only the monitor with Rogue's face still working. Logan studies Rogue's face for a long moment and his eyes darken with sudden shadows. Without a word, he reaches out and turns the tv off. He walks back to Remy and settles heavily into a chair. Remy lifts bleak eyes to his, bitterness adding a tight edge to his voice.

"Rogue de only woman I know--y'tell her t'go t'hell an' she does jus' dat."

Logan grins, remembering his own run-ins with Rogue's stubbornness. He takes several more gulps from the can of beer, draining it. He lets out a satisfying belch.

"So, we go after her. What's the problem, Gumbo?"

"T'ink y'know what de problem is, homme."

Logan's eyes narrow, his demeanor somber.

"Why don't ya spell it out fer me anyways."

Remy lowers his head to his hand, his voice an imperceptible whisper to any except Logan's accute hearing.

"I can't go back dere."

A look of steel glints against Logan's no-nonsense gaze.

"Ain't like we're askin' ya ta take the ankle express, Cajun. Blackbird will have us there in no time."

Remy's jaw hardens.

"Y'makin' jokes at a time like dis?"

"Ya makin' excuses fer not doin' what ya gotta? Thought I taught ya better."

Logan rises, scowling.

"Thought I knew ya better."

Remy's fingers tighten into fists, an outer expression of his inner conflict. His life has always been one of quick decisions. Snap judgments, no questions asked. When you're a thief on the streets, your next hour could be your last. No time to second guess your actions. No time for regrets. Not like his life with the X-men, where every breath seems to have lasting repercussions. He struggles, not with his decision, but with the acceptance of a destiny decided long ago--the moment he met Rogue.

"What time we leave, mon ami?"

"Dawn."

Remy nods in agreement. Easily. Without pause. And in that moment he realizes that he has accepted what his heart has always known. He won't leave Rogue behind.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

Remy's licks his lips nervously. He knows the others wouldn't understand but maybe, just maybe, he can tell this man the truth. Kindred spirits. Both trying to work on the side of the angels. Both knowing what it's like to have crossed over the line into less than admirable actions.

"Got another problem."

Logan turns and faces him from the doorway, his eyebrows furrow in concentration.

"Roguie may be wit' chile."

"Yours?"

"What you t'ink?"

A broad grin lights Logan's face as he shakes his head with good humor.

"Just what we need, another LeBeau underfoot."

"Y'don' understan'--she can' have de baby an' continue wit' de chemo treatments."

Logan runs a rough hand through his thick hair with a sigh.

"Anything else?"

"Rogue don' know--but Sinister might."

Logan slaps the locking mechanism on the door with a growl. He strides angrily back over to the table. He grabs Remy's chair and forcefully turns him around. He leans into the Cajun's face, all trace of humor replaced with a cold fury.

"Was Cyke right--did ya set Rogue up?"

"NO!"

Logan hauls Remy roughly to his feet.

"Look me in the eye an' tell me the truth!"

"Sinister been usin' me. T'ink maybe he wan' use Rogue, too. Don' know for sure, jus' puttin' t'ings together. But dey pieces fit."

Logan inhales deeply, letting his senses sort through the truth. Remy's gaze is concerned, but steady. His scent tinged with fear, but not the bitterness of someone who's lying. Logan eases his grip on Remy, then slaps him lightly on the shoulder.

"I believe ya."

"What do we do now?"

Logan gives him a gentle shove towards the door.

"Get some sleep. We got a big day ahead of us."

 

Continued in Chapter 30.

 


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