He longed to run in the direction he stared, thinking himself as skilled a tracker as Logan.  But he laughed one bitter and hurtful chuckle.  He would end up lost in the woods, he was a city dweller and though he knew his way around the bayou… the woods here were much different with new and faster predators.

Aside from not knowing what he was doing in the woods the setting sun told him Alex Krycek was long gone. 

A purposeful shuffling of feet behind him and a tensing of his shoulders told him Logan had found him.  A sturdy hand on his shoulder told him that the seemingly angry and homophobic Logan was trying to empathize and would most undoubtedly start spouting advice soon.  Remy pivoted and aimed a punch, he knew it hadn’t landed well but still he ran with tears stinging his eyes. 

His trench coat, torn and matted about the tail, flapped behind him as he ran to the old and abandoned warehouse of the local chapter.  Fight Club had been the only release he had before Alex, and was the only thing he had counted on… could count on before Alex.  And now it was no different.  Fight Club was the only steady thing in his life any more.  He loved it.  Though now that love was like turning to an ex for support and a shoulder to cry on.

He didn’t care who he hurt tonight, or how many.  He didn’t know how many he sent home and he fought until he collapsed into a dreamless and painful unconsciousness.

* * *

With one eye swollen and black he awoke on his own bed.  As the familiar setting sunk in he groaned and shut his good eye.  Who had drug him back here, to this bed and room that still smelled of Alex Krycek? 

Though his mind flared in anger at whoever had placed him here and undressed him his body was drained and his heart shriveled.  He wouldn’t even manage a glare shot in the direction of… Logan.  The X Man walked in after opening the door and seeing Remy’s eye rolling closed.  His steps were slow and hesitant as he approached the bed.

“That was stupid, Cajun.” His voice was soft though, the scolding tone from earlier gone.  Remy jerked his eye open, remembering the men in black.  He looked at the wall and what he could see of the floor.  The room had been scrubbed of their visit. 

“Two broken ribs, a black eye, a sprained ankle, and a fractured fist… plus whatever Hank couldn’t determine from your unconscious black and blue body.”  Logan sighed as he stood at the end of the bed with arms folded. 

Remy shifted and only then could feel the various bandages he wore, the ache in his side and the dozen or so swollen bruises covering his body.  They went well with the migraine, throbbing jaw and depression Alex had given him.  Remy closed his eye, his body throbbing from head to toe.  He relished in it and shifted again with a flinch.  He deserved this for trusting in love.  For allowing himself to feel that elusive and heart flooding emotion.  For allowing his heart to do the thinking.  … for each and every heart he had left broken in the past.  He was the one crying now.

Without knowing he drifted off again, dreams and pain once more just out of reach.  He did not see or feel Logan settle closer to him on the bed, a damp washcloth held to his forehead and a soft whisper of empathy.  “You’d think he had been your first… and perhaps on some level he was, Remy.”

He didn’t know how long he slept, but hunger soon nagged him into the world of the living and soon after nagged him in a sitting position.  He breathed past the pain in his ribs and swayed to his feet.  Regarding the room that held so few memories, most of them just recently, he gritted his teeth with a grunt.  Never again.

* * *

Turkey sandwich nestled firmly in his gut the Cajun ignored Logan as he passed him in the hall and headed for the doors.  His vision was impaired, his left eye still swollen shut, and he missed the door handle as he reached for it.

“No ya don’t, shug,” Rogue on the other side of the glass.  With a thin line drawn for lips she frowned at him and opened the door to push him back.  “Ya still look and feel like a mighty large cat drug ya in.  Back ta bed, Remy LeBeau.  Or at least ya ain’t goin’ out there.  We both know you’ll jus find another ta beat ya up.”

Taking his arm and reminding him of her mutant strength she pulled him all the way to the infirmary.  “Bed manners ain’t what they used to be, Hank.  Mind takin’ this one now that he’s awake?”  She smiled as the furry blue resident doctor appeared and gestured for Remy to take a seat.

“Now ya behave Remy, I don’t wanna haveta carry ya back in here but ya know I will,” she said forcefully before taking leave.

“You wouldn’t believe Logan actually suggested I inject you with a smidge of his blood, help you heal?”  Hank’s usual chipper self seemed to have vacated along with Rogue.  “You have to learn Remy… and Logan reminded me you won’t.  You haven’t ever shown that much smarts.  Still,” he sighed.  “You’re going to have let nature take it’s coarse and let your bumps heal by themselves.”

Taking a small flash light Hank went through the procedural tests on reflexes and pupil dilation.  “Minor concussion, bet you can’t tell one fight from the other last night.” Hank tsked and he took Remy’s bandaged hand to check the wrapping.  “I don’t want to see you so much as jogging for a week.  If you behave I’ll see about that vial Logan insisted upon.”

Remy had nothing to say, a slight nod of his head in agreement got him dismissed.  He didn’t wish to return to his room and those smells.  They mixed and danced all together now but Remy could still smell Alex’ leather jacket and their mingled sex.  It was still too strong for him though he doubted any one aside from Logan and Hank could also sense it.

He found himself down at the woods edge, inside the gate they had both jumped before Alex had clocked him.  Sitting at the peak of a small hill, arms drawn about his knees Remy sat and stared into the darkening trees.  Why had he left?  So his enemy had found him and some how managed to elude the mansion’s top defenses.  They were both alive. 

Was he?  Was Alex still alive?   Despair clutched at him as he buried his head between his arms and knees.  Should he even care or be wondering about how Alex was doing?  He had left him without so much an embrace, a kind word, a goodbye, or a tear.  No, he had knocked him unconscious and then fled like an animal into the woods!

Anger flared again and Remy stood, stiff from sitting and letting his sore joints and aches settle.  Turning he walked away to find a hot tub to soak himself in.  The heat soothed his muscles and the steam soothed his tears.

* * *

So Remy had been a good patient, sulking about the school grounds instead of taking his hurt out on others.  At the end of the week he found himself wide eyed and twitching as Logan’s blood coursed his veins with his own.  The sensation of a fast healing was odd and he felt it itching and pulling at parts of him he hadn’t realized needed to be healed. 

Unwrapping his hand he watched as the dark swelling slowly pulled into one small and tight knot where the fracture and bruising had originated.  Then with a reflexive twitch at the brief jolt of pain the ache and ugly bruising had pulled into itself and disappeared.

That night for the first since he had been knocked unconscious twice in one day Remy returned to his room.  Standing in the door way a sudden surge of longing and memories pummeled his defenses.  He fought the tears.  He had told himself the man wasn’t worth them, and until now he had steadfastly avoided crying over him and their time together.  So short that time had been.

With a groan past clenched teeth Remy fisted his hands to his eyes and held his breath.  He was not going to give into them.  He was not going to continue playing his part as the fool. 

With a stumble into the room he sobbed into his hands as he gasped for a breath.  The wall crumbled as he sunk to the floor, sobs shaking his shoulders as he folded into himself.  Forehead on the cold, reflective floor he remembered seeing Alex on that surface.  Walk across the distance from the door to his side.  Why had he had fell for the lie in those eyes.

A familiar touch on one shoulder and then the other… Logan?  He didn’t care who it was, or why.  He allowed himself to be limply pulled into those arms and he clutched the rough jean jacket, pulling into the embrace as he pressed the side of his face against the broad and firm chest.  Sobs shook him and tears wetted the jacket he clung to.

The hands took his shoulders and attempted to dislodge him.  With a frantic sob he pressed closer.  “Hold me,” his voice was pale and small.  “Please,” he sounded pathetic in his own ears, like a child after a very real and frightening nightmare.  “Just hold me.  For a minute, and then I’ll…” a strangled moist sound left his parted lips, the word caught in his throat with another cry. 

Still, he was pushed away.  He hung his head, hair hiding his tear soaked and red face.  It was quiet.  With slow movements he opened his eyes, staring at an empty floor.  Logan… had left him.  Left.  Like Alex. 

Standing in resolve Remy angrily whipped at his face, though the tears continued to flow. 

* * *

Red faced and with swollen, blood shot eyes he couldn’t remember how he had gotten to the Fight Club ring.  An opponent faced him any way.  With his head firmly on his shoulders this time Remy fought for the three rounds, the number that graced his temple, retiring and declaring boredom as he stalked out of the building... sore but still conscious.

Since joining the X Men and retiring his thieving ways, the Fight Club had been his only form of unlimited release and one form that Professor Xavier hadn’t forbade him from participating in (though he had expressed his worries). 

Still, times like this often left him craving an assignment.  Sneaking into some dame’s window, after her jewels and ending up with a bed mate instead.  That only lasted until morning though.  When they awoke they found he was after much more than their bodies.  No names, no phone numbers… just random and needed release with another body and new face.

He tried to imagine it.  Tonight he’d sneak onto a balcony with the picture of said jewel printed on his memory.  He’d gently awake the femme with a purposeful caress and tap into his Charm gift… no.  He couldn’t.  Never again.  After tasting what it meant to love instead of lust he could never go back... and could never allow that emotion to happen again.  Could never hurt another in that way.