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Page history last edited by PBworks 17 years, 1 month ago

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters they belong to Marvel and I don’t own the song, that belongs to James Blunt and co. No money has or will be made from this fic.

A/N: ****depicts lyrics**** the song is “Tears and Rain” by James Blunt from his album Back to Bedlam.

Tears and Rain


It hadn’t been a day of spectacular revelations, there had been no epiphanies and nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But still, he found himself stood out on the veranda lost in his own thoughts. It had been a sunny day and in early evening the air was yet to cool, but he was still so cold. Taking a deep drag on his cigarette and releasing it slowly; Remy loved the weather when it was like that. But as he stood there a slight breeze began to pick up, it ruffled his hair and made the smoke dance in the air in front of him. He found himself out here all too often.


Remy stared up at the gathering storm clouds in the sky. He flicked his cigarette stub out into the air and watched it give a pop as it exploded. A song was drifting out through one of the windows. His mind started to wander over his past mistakes.


****How I wish I could surrender my soul;

Shed the clothes that become my skin;

See the liar that burns within my needing.

How I wish I'd chosen darkness from cold.

How I wish I had screamed out loud,

Instead I've found no meaning.****


It all came crashing in on him: his childhood on the streets; his thieving; losing Bella; being exiled; seeking out Sinister; letting himself be tricked into the Morlock massacre; his relationship with Rogue; lying; Being betrayed and left for dead in Antarctica, and; not having the nerve to tell the man he loved that he wanted to be with him. He let his head drop into his hands in despair. He’d been hiding for so long he didn’t know how to stop. He couldn’t let anyone see the real Remy Le Beau because that would leave him too vulnerable.


So he carried on, hiding from the world but what had made sense to him for so long had started to lose its point, he didn’t really know why he was even there anymore. Some of the others had forgiven him when they’d found out his darkest secret, but a few still treated him like a leper. All he wanted was to atone, to make amends and hopefully when he finally reached the end he wouldn’t be on the way to hell.


He thought back to Antarctica, when he’d been lying on the ice slowly freezing to death and the decisions he’d made that had brought him to that place. If he’d never tried to make up for what he’d done, if he’d let himself go back in those tunnels then he would never have ended up there, freezing. How ironic, if he’d been as evil as some had accused him then he would never have walked among them, they would never have tried to meet out their kind of justice. He had gone almost crazy before the cold had pulled him deeper and the whiteness of it all had made him doubt his decision to try to turn his life around; made him wish he had stepped towards the darkness.


It’s not that he’d arrived back at that point but he was now wondering why he continued to try. How could he start to be himself when there was that part of him still trapped inside that demanded his attention, its needs so raw but only fulfillable if he kept the truth to himself. They could never know about his empathy, but the harder he tried, the more he failed to remember why. Why was he there? Why was he still trying to atone, when they didn’t want to see his remorse? Why did he still care? And, more importantly, why had he fallen in love with Logan?


****I guess it's time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,

All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.

Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.

I've heard what they say, but I'm not here for trouble.

It's more than just words: it's just tears and rain.****


He looked back up at the darkening sky. Maybe it was time he left, sure it would hurt but the way things were going it just wasn’t working out. The flirting, the one night stands, they only helped for a short time and even then they weren’t all that effective. He wasn’t sure who he was wearing the mask for anymore, he suspected he was hiding more from himself than anyone else. He knew the things that they’d said behind his back, he’d heard Warren’s jokes. They called him a whore and a slut. They just didn’t understand and he couldn’t explain. He needed the contact, skin on skin… friends were all well and good but there was only so much words could do to ease the aching need. He needed more than that, he needed to feel the need of others and know that he was filling it.


He felt a surge in the ache in his heart… in his soul and as his eyes started to sting great drops of rain started to splash onto the ground. If he hadn’t felt so desolate he would have been amused at the weather’s sympathy for him, it was usually Storm who’s emotions could affect such things. He watched the increasing number of splotches on the concrete and the tears fell down his cheeks, as if in perfect synchronicity.


He stepped slowly down the veranda steps and out onto one of the paths. He just stood there with his arms out wide, hoping that he would be hit by the answer as to what he should do.


****How I wish I could walk through the doors of my mind;

Hold memory close at hand,

Help me understand the years.

How I wish I could choose between Heaven and Hell.

How I wish I would save my soul.

I'm so cold from fear.****


All his regrets, how he wished he could go back and change the things he’d done… and not done. Most of the time he didn’t even know why he had done something a certain way. He just didn’t understand himself some… most of the time. Remy wondered what a telepath would see if they went into his mind. Almost everything was locked away even from him. He tried not to venture in there but occasionally it was unavoidable. Still, sometimes he couldn’t bring himself to walk through some doors; they hid too much horror behind them. If he could see the things there then perhaps his life would make some kind of sense.


There had been no conscious point in his life before coming to Xavier’s where he’d decided good or bad, right or wrong. He’d always just made his way through the best he could, negotiated obstacles when they came up. He followed a path that led him a stray but failed to show him any sort of real morality. He was a thief after all, not to mention the other things he’d had to do to survive.


So, if when he was younger he’d been able to see what each door would lead to, then where would he have ended up? Would he still be stood there, tears cascading down his cheeks as the rain soaked him to the skin? When he returned from Antarctica he had still been cold, he was cold inside, Henri called it his bodies memory, but Remy knew better. He was afraid, a fear that burned at his insides with its icy coldness and there was no warming up from that kind of cold.



****I guess it's time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,

All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.

Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.

I've heard what they say, but I'm not here for trouble.

Far, far away; find comfort in pain.

All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.

It's more than just words: it's just tears and rain.****


The more he tried to get warm the colder he got. The people he chose could offer him nothing: no safety, no sanctuary, no care. They couldn’t chase the deep-rooted fear from his insides that chilled him to the bone constantly. There was only one person who he truly felt would be able to do that for him. He should just get used to the hurt that he felt inside and accept it. There could maybe be relief in that, some kind of comfort maybe. All he wanted to do was help; to make things right, but no one understood that. He wondered that if he left, he might be able to make some kind of peace within himself for the things he’d done.


Remy shook his head and sent more drops of water spraying out amongst the heavy falling rain. His eyes were closed and he tilted his face heavenwards.


“Someone… help me.” He asked the dark sky, desperately. “’Fore I drown in dese tears and rain.”


He would leave; there was nothing else he could do. The rain started to ease and he shivered from the cold that permeated his body from his wet clothes. He lowered his eyes back down and dropped his arms to his sides. Turning, Remy’s eyes fell on the veranda where he’d been stood before the downpour. His breath caught and his heart rate picked up when his eyes met Logan’s. They simply looked at each other for a while. Neither one making a move for what seemed like an eternity.


Then slowly, Logan raised his arms and held them wide for the distressed young man. Remy blinked, uncertainly he took a step closer.


“Come on Cajun, ain’t gonna stand here like an idiot all day.” Logan’s lips tugged upwards in a smile even as he made the growly statement. He could smell the boy’s fear and pain, he always could, but he had been pulled out there by something else… not the scent but the feel of it. He could feel the despair and pain; he could smell the saline of his tears too, even through the rain. He couldn’t stand by anymore, he wanted to do something to help Remy, he’d heard the whispered plea for help and he wasn’t walking away this time.


Snapping out of his trance the Cajun ran up the steps and into those waiting arms. Logan didn’t care that he was wet to the skin he just wanted to hold him.

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