Hurt

Remy woke slowly; his back was sore and his head ached. As consciousness returned, he realized that he had spent the night sleeping on the floor. Throwing the blanket over his head, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember what had happened the night before.

Replaying the night’s events in his mind, Remy’s eyes snapped open. Logan… Throwing the blankets off, he sat up abruptly, looking wildly around the room. Logan was nowhere to be seen, Remy realized with a heavy sigh. Alone again…the story of his life.

Remy closed his eyes, trying to remember what it had felt like to feel safe, sheltered in Logan’s arms. He couldn’t…the feeling was gone,lacelaced with the same all-consuming emptiness that he had felt every day since he had found himself alone and abandoned in Antarctica.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Remy huddled into a ball. He knew better than to think that someone could love him, would be there for him; thinking like that only ended up getting him hurt. Scared by the numbness – the lack of even the dubious relief of a broken heart – Remy rocked back and forth, eyes fixed on the floor at his feet.

Remy froze, eyes locked on the battered box tucked under the couch. He didn’t want to do it again – not so soon, not with so many unhealed cuts on his arm already – but the emptiness was terrifying. Logan had said that there was no shame in being frightened, but Remy couldn’t face the fear, couldn’t face the emptiness.

Getting slowly to his feet, Remy retrieved the razor blades from their hiding place under the couch, too ashamed to look at the box in his hands. Eyes flitting across the room, he tried to find something to focus on, something to distract him. The stereo…music…a weak smile ghosting his lips, Remy dug through his CD collection. Choosing one from the stack, he turned on the stereo and settled on the floor.

“I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real”

Smiling ruefully, Remy selected a blade from the box and slid the sleeve of his sweater up, selecting a spot close to the elbow. He felt like he was experiencing the world third-hand…a copy of a copy…the visceral pain, the smell of blood, the rush of adrenaline were the only reality he had.

“The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything”

Teeth sunk into his lower lip, Remy dragged the blade across the tender flesh, hand shaking in a mix of pain and adrenaline. Blood pouring down his arm and tears pouring down his cheeks, Remy sighed in relief.

-------

Grumbling irritably, Logan waited impatiently for Scott to return so that he could leave his security post and check on Remy. He hadn’t wanted to leave the boy, but he had duties and couldn’t shirk them, no matter what the circumstances. He only hoped that Remy was okay.

The boy had still been asleep when he had left in the morning, sprawled in the most uncomfortable looking position Logan had ever seen, and he hadn’t had the heart to wake him. To judge by the boy’s appearance, he could use all the rest he could get.

-------

“What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
You could have it all
My empire of dirt”

Slumping down to lie on the floor, Remy sobbed, tears pog dog down his cheeks, the pain of his self-inflicted penance having triggered a tidal wave of emotion that he was helpless to control but grateful to be experiencing.

He knew better than this, knew better than to believe that he could ever have any security in life. He had never imagined himself to be so naïve, but the truth was right in front of him, as sharp as a slap in the face; he was alone again.

“I will let you down
I will make you hurt”

Perhaps it was for the best, he reasoned. If Logan had stayed he would only have let him down, shown himself to be unworthy of the security offered to him. It was better this way for both of them…but the rationalization did nothing for the deep ache in his heart.

“I wear my crown of shit
On my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear”

Shivering, Remy curled up on the floor, gratefully letting consciousness slip away. Sleep was a welcome escape, and Remy surrendered gratefully to its clutches, heedless of the cold or the pain in his arm.

-------

Logan knocked lightly at the door of the boathouse, not wanting to let himself in without Remy’s permission. No answer.

He knew Remy was home; the kid hadn’t left the boathouse since he’d returned from Antarctica, other than his rare excursions to the mansion. Opening the door quietly, Logan stepped inside and cocked his head to the side, sensitive ears picking up the sound of soft music coming from the living room; not something he would have picked, but then he and Reeverever did have the same taste in music.

Careful to keep his movements quiet, Logan stepped into the living room. The kid had obviously gotten up at some point, since he was laying in a different spot than the one Logan had left him in that morning; eyebrows drawing together, Logan sniffed the air – he smelled blood again, fresh this time. “Oh, Rem…” he whispered.

Kneeling by the sleeping boy, Logan shook his head sadly. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was his fault somehow. He shouldn’t have left. The kid was a hell of a lot more important than some stupid job. Carefully sliding one hand under the boy’s shoulders and the other under his knees, Logan gathered the boy up into his arms and settled him against his chest, shocked by how light Remy was in his arms; the kid hadt a t a lot of weight.

Careful to keep from jostling the boy, Logan set off up the stairs; he wasn’t about to let Remy sleep on the floor again when he had a perfectly good bed going to waste. Somebody had to take care of the brat, since Remy apparently wasn’t going to do it himself and – when it really came down to it – he really cared about the kid and was tired of seeing him hurt; he deserved better.

-------

Waking slowly, Remy blearily rubbed the heel of his hand across his eyes, trying to push away the fogginess clouding his mind. Sitting up with a heavy sigh, he took in his surroundings. Somehow, he’d ended up back in bed without any memory of how he’d gotten there, which wasn’t a good sign. This whole thing was really getting out of control.

His left hand felt sticky with blood and, if he wasn’t mistaken, he’d managed to get it in his hair too. “Well, ain’t dat a fine mess?” Remy muttered, scowling at the prospect of scrubbing the dried blood from his hair.

“Yup, sure is,” came the quiet reply.

Startled, Remy jumped involuntarily. “Damn, Logan,” Remy snapped, “you tryin’ t’ give me a heart attack?”

“Sorry, Rem,” Logan said softly. “Just wanted t’ check up on ya. See how ya were doin’.”

“I’m fine,” Remy muttered, trying to decide how he felt about Logan’s return.

“Ya don’t look fine, kid,” Logan answered honestly, abandoning his stance in the doorway to sit at the foot of Remy’s bed.

“Well, I am. Okay?” Remy snapped, torn between tears and violence.

“Okay, kid. Just wanted to make sure,” Logan answered, turning to leave the room.

“Logan?” Remy asked softly, unsure of what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to be alone again; ’t w’t want to drive Logan away.

“Yeah, Rem?” Logan asked over his shoulder.

“Stay…please,” Remy whispered. He didn’t really have anything to lose – he’d already lost everything that mattered to him.

“Okay, Rem,” Logan said softly. “Hang on a minute, okay?”

Nodding silently, Remy fought back the tears stinging his eyes. Logan wouldn’t lie to him…he was coming back, he had to believe that. Forcing himself to breathe, Remy drew his knees up to his chest, heart pounding, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Let me see that arm,” Logan whispered moments later, laying a surprisingly gentle hand on Remy’s wrist.

Logan knew, but then it stood to reason that he would. There was no chance of hiding it now, not with one hand covered in drying blood and his hair spiky with more of the same. There was no point in arguing now, he had nothing to hide. Eyes downcast, Remy held out his arm wordlessly, too ashamed to meet Logan’s eyes.

Gently loosening the sleeve of the boy’s sweater from his bloodied arm, Logan slid it up enough to bare the cuts lining the tender flesh. “Sorry if this hurts, Rem,” Logan said softly, cleaning the cuts with a wet washcloth, mindful of the boy’s barely audible whimpers.

Fighting back tears, Remy allowed Logan to clean his arm, unsure if he was on the verge of tears because of the pain or because of the gentleness of Logan’s touch. It felt so good to be treated with such kindness…it had been so long since anyone had taken such care not to hurt him.

“This is gonna sting, darlin’,” Logan whispered, soaking a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol and steadying the boy’s arm in one powerful hand.

Unable to hold back any longer, Remy gave into his tears, sobbing like a child as Logan cleaned his bloodied arm with quick, efficient strokes. It wasn’t the pain that had done it, although it hurt like hell, it had been that one simple endearment…

Dropping the bloodied cotton ball onto the bed, Logan gathered the boy up into his arms, knowing intuitively that it wasn’t the pain that had done it, there was more to it than that. Pulling the boy tight against his chest, Logan rocked him back and forth, heedless of the blood smearing his neck and chest.

-------

“You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on, Rem?” Logan asked softly several minutes later after the boy’s sobs had died down into drowsy sniffles.

“What’s de point? Ain’t gonna make anyt’ing better,” Remy whispered dejectedly, concentrating on Logan’s calm breathing.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Logan answered, not wanting to push the boy too hard. “You don’t wanna talk, that’s okay. But I know what it’s like, I just want ya to know that.”

Snuffling against Logan’s chest, Remy let Logan’s words sink in. If anyone would understand it would be Logan, he’d been through more in his long life than Remy could ever imagine surviving and yet he was sitting here very much alive and trying to help. “I just need t’ feel something,” he finally whispered, too tired to fight anymore.

“Scary, ain’t it?” Logan said softly, knowing what it felt like to hit rock bottom and understanding that at that point even pain was a welcome release. Anything was better than that devastating emptiness.

“Oui,” Remy agreed softly. He was tired; tired in body and soul…tired of fighting a losing battle…tired of life.

Pulling the trembling boy tighter against his chest, Logan let his silence speak for him, knowing that sometimes words weren’t enough. He’d been in Remy’s place before, empty to the point that even death would have been welcome; he knew how hard it was, how terrifying and lonely the world could be when you had no one to turn to and nowhere to go and he didn’t intend to let the boy go through it alone.

“How ‘bout we get you cleaned up, darlin’?” Logan whispered after several long minutes. Right now there wasn’t much he could do to undo the damage done to the boy’s spirit, but the kid still had a hell of a lot of physical needs that weren’t being met.

Nodding silently, Remy allowed Logan to scoot off the bed and then followed him from the room. He knew he must look horrible – he certainly felt horrible – and a hot shower and some more sleep were both at the top of his list of things that would make things a little more bearable.

-------

Leaving the boy to glare at his reflection in the bathroom mirror att attempt to get the worst of the tangles out of his blood-matted hair, Logan started the shower. “Come on, get those clothes off,” Logan ordered. Remy wasn’t the least bit bashful and Logan knew that if he left it up to the kid, it’d be an hour before he actually got undressed and cleaned up.

Abandoning his attempts at damage control, Remy sighed and tugged off his sweater, tossing it to the floor at his feet and starting in on his jeans, not the least bit embarrassed by Logan’s presence. There didn’t seem to be a single spot on his entire body that wasn’t aching and the prospect of getting cleaned up, while appealing, was also daunting. He was exhausted in spite of the sleep he’d gotten.

The kid looked like death warmed over, completely exhausted in spite of the fact that he’d spent all day asleep. “You want me to give ya a hand, Rem?” Logan asked, no more concerned with modesty than the boy was.

Looking up with sleepy, surprised eyes, Remy nodded. As it was, it was a struggle just to stay on his feet; he was going to need all the help he could get.

“Okay, kiddo,” Logan answered easily, yanking his shirt over his head. “You get the rest of those clothes off and we’ll get ya cleaned up.”

-------

Remy stared with drowsy eyes at the red-tinged water swirling down the drain, too tired to do anything more than stand under the shower’s spray – held up by Logan’s strong hands on his hips – and let the pounding water wash the blood away.

“Come on, Rem, put your hands up here,” Logan said softly, hesitantly moving one hand from the boy’s hips to place Remy’s hand against the tiled wall of the shower.

Gratefully complying, Remy leaned against the shower wall, forehead and palms pressed to the cold tile, and sighed. It felt wonderful to be taken care of like this, even if Logan was only doing it out of pity; right now he was willing to settle for any comfort he could get.

“Head up, darlin’,” Logan said, laying a gentle hand on Remy’s shoulder and squeezing lightly, “I gotta wash that blood out of your hair.”

Forcing his aching muscles to comply, Remy stood up straighter, sighing contentedly as Logan tangled his fingers in his hair, scrubbing the blood out with gentle hands. Squeezing his eyes shut, Remy let the tears stinging his eyes roll down his cheeks, their tracks washed away almost as quickly as they were made. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, he hadn’t ever cried this much in his life. Not even when he was a child, alone and starving with no one to take care of him. Not even when he’d been left alone to freeze in Antarctica. Not ever.

“Turn around for me, okay?” Logan said, wrapping one strong arm around the boy’s chest to support him; he needed to rinse Remy’s hair out and wanted to be sure he had a firm hold on him.

Hesitantly pushing off the wall, Remy turned around as best he could in the small, crowded space, grateful for the water washing away his tears. Gratefully leaning against Logan’s brawny chest, Remy relaxed into Logan’s firm control and allowed him to rinse his hair, holding him carefully under the shower’s spray until the water ran clear.

“Ya want me to wash your back?” Logan asked, stroking the boy’s back lightly. He could smell the boy’s tears even over the water washing them away; the kid needed all the comfort he could get.

Remy nodded silently, content to let Logan take care of him. It was such a relief to surrender control to someone else…someone bigger and stronger than he was. He felt…he felt like he had when his father had taken him in – safe, protected from the world…free from the burden of responsibility.

Holding Remy tight against his chest with one arm, Logan soaped a washcloth as best he could without releasing his grip and rubbed the soapy cloth in gentle circles over the boy’s shoulders and back, smiling as Remy relaxed with a sigh.

-------

“You goin’ back t’ sleep?” Logan asked, scrubbing at the boy’s hair with a towel as Remy leaned against the sink, too tired to argue.

“Oui,” Remy said softly, staring drowsily at the cuts on his arm; in the bright light of the bathroom, they looked frightening.

“You wanna put some clothes on first or no?” Logan asked, tossing the towel in the hamper and leaving his hair to air dry.

“Non,” Remy mumbled, hesitantly releasing his hold on the sink and standing on unsteady legs.

“Fair enough,” Logan shrugged. “Come on, kiddo, move it.”

Allowing Logan to shoo him into the hallway, Remy shuffled down the hall to his room, reassured by the sound of Logan’s heavy tread behind him.

-------

Climbing wearily into bed, Remy allowed Logan to tuck him in; it was comforting to just give in and let Logan call the shots, secure in the knowledge that he had nothing to do but let himself be taken care of. “T’anks, Logan,” Remy mumbled with a sleepy smile.

“Anytime, kid,” Logan answered, brushing the boy’s bangs back from his forehead.

“Logan?” Remy mumbled, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Yeah, Rem?” Logan asked.

“You’re gonna be here when I wake up, right?” Remy asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, Rem, I’ll be here,” Logan answered softly.

TBC