Haunts

Title: Diggin' up Bones



Disclaimer: it's PG, at the moment... All characters are

copyrighted and do not belong to me.



Pairing: None right now, some hinting



Summary: Logan has issues to work out.





Diggin' Up Bones



It was the best sleep of a dozen lifetimes. There were no

nightmares, no interruptions, nothing but soft, velvet darkness

stretching on forever. It was so beautiful Logan felt he might never

wake. Eventually, the harsh nagging of bright sunlight through the

window dragged him kicking and screaming back to the waking world.

He blinked several times to chase away the last lingering touches of

tranquility. He gave his body an enormous stretch; listening to the

sounds of popping and feeling the blood as it rushed through his

groggy body. The man could scarce remember when the last time was

that he'd awoke feeling this good, this rested. He laid motionless

on the bed, riding out the last calm wave of euphoria. When it

passed he swung his legs over the side of his bed and sat up on the

edge. Might as well get this over with.

After a quick shower and change of clothes, Logan made his way

downstairs for something to eat. As could be expected, everyone and

their grandma were in the kitchen. They all seemed to congregate at

the same time, for some odd reason. Activity slowed to a snail's

pace a few seconds after Logan walked through the door. Everyone

looked at the man like they were expecting him to do some sort of

phenomenal trick. He chose to simply ignore them in favor of the

coffee he could smell percolating on the counter. After a few

moments, everyone resumed their usual mindless chatter. It was

obvious that they weren't going to see anything extraordinary from

their reclusive teammate. Only one person continued to watch him as

he rummaged through the refrigerator for his breakfast.

Usually when Ororo spoke, Remy paid close attention. Now he

could hardly even feign consideration as all his attention was

immersed in the prosaic activity of the shorter man across the way.

His every move drew unnecessary scrutiny from these clandestine imp

eyes. Remy noted with what felt like relief that Logan's mood was

immensely different from the previous night. He was so preoccupied

he missed most of his 'sister's' question.

"What?

"Remy, are you okay? You appear somewhat distracted." There was a

touch of concern in the question. Remy just flashed Ororo a big

smile.

"N' worries, eh? Remy be more den fine." Ororo smiled back warmly.

"Always happy to hear so little brother." She gave him a loving kiss

on the cheek before pushing her chair back to stand. "I must go and

get ready. My children will require some attention." Remy chuckled

"You have fun, Stormy." Ororo crinkled her nose at him, which earned

her an even heartier laugh. When she was gone, Remy tried to resume

his earlier task of observation only to find that the object of his

musings had disappeared. He cursed half-heartedly under his breath

and leaned back in his chair. The kitchen was now mostly empty; save

for Bobby and Hank who were currently engaged in a candid discussion

over the longevity potentials of their favorite snack cakes.

Apparently, one of Bobby's last wishes was to be inurned with a few

of these delicacies upon the event of his death. As Remy left the

room, he heard Hank arguing that such an act would not only be

foolish but a complete waste of spongy, cream-filled treasure as

well. Well, old habits die hard, as they say.



Upstairs...

Logan pulled a small duffel bag from the bottom of his closet and

threw it across the room onto his bed. He then began gathering

clothes, toiletries, etc. and stuffing them into the bag

haphazardly. He was sure no one would question his absence. The

routine disappearing acts he pulled were often viewed as rather

tedious. Of course, personal opinions made no difference to Logan.

This was his way of coping. A house swarming with mutants who had

nothing better going for them than to gossip about each other's

personal lives was the farthest thing from his ideal of placidity.

He just couldn't think with so many people around at all times.

Hopefully, some day there would be nothing pushing him to run. There

would be no voice in the back of his mind, telling him that it was

time to leave. Some day, he might have a reason to stay. Right now,

there was nothing but miles of empty road and one hell of a reason

for bookin' it.



"What the hell. Old habits die hard, after all."





It took him next to no time to get his things packed, since he

didn't take too much to begin with. He was busying himself with

closing the drapes when a knock sounded at the door. He grumbled

under his breath. Of course, why shouldn't there be someone coming

to him for some heart to heart right as he was trying to leave? He

snatched up his bag and carried it over to the door, dropping it by

his foot before yanking the door wide open.



"What?!"



Scott gasped quietly and took a step back. Logan sighed deeply, feeling all the energy drain from his body as he stood toe to toe with the X-Men's field leader and his former lover.



"What is it?" The question was dry and as calm as Logan could

muster. Scott peered past him to the bedroom.



"So, you're leaving now, is that it? You only close the drapes in

your room when you're planning to take off." Logan groaned and

lifted his bag off the ground.



"Look unless yer here ta tell me `bout some catastrophic disaster

that needs lookin' after. I got other places I could be." Scott

slowly shook his head.



"When are you going to learn that running away never helps anything.

This is not going to make things better between us."



"Just what the hell makes ya think I want anything ta be better

between us? There's no us no more, ya made damn sure'a that." Scott

squared his shoulders. Logan rolled his eyes, knowing that some

drawn out, needless speech was inevitably coming.



"That may be true but that's no reason for us not to act civilized

around each other. It's sure as hell no reason for you to go running

off. We both agreed the first time that we wouldn't hold each other

to anything. It's not like we were dating." Logan found that he

couldn't argue with Scott on that point. Instead he just snorted and

pushed past the other man.



"I ain't runnin', from you or anyone else. Ya can consider

this "time off" if ya want." He was already on his way downstairs

before Scott could even answer.



Logan entered the garage; the combined smells of oil, fuel and

dirt somehow soothing in their familiarity. He crossed the vast

concrete floor to where he knew his Harley would be waiting, like

always. At least there were some things he could count on. He flung

his bag onto the back of the bike and was tying it down when a cool

Cajun drawl caught his attention.



"Where y' goin' homme?" He slowly turned to see Remy crouched nearby.



"What the hell ya doin' in here, Gumbo."



Remy ran his hand over theframe of his own bike, carefully caressing it like a man exploring awoman's body for the first time. Logan could now see a ratchet

dangling from the fingertips of his free hand.



"She needed some `ttention. Can't have her getting' rusty on me."



Remy continued to stroke the bike, keeping those burning red on

black eyes fixed on Logan. Until the rugged Canadian felt the warmth

of that gaze spread across his flesh and he had begun to sway with

the motions of the gentle hand. He swore he could almost feel the

rough texture of the young man's fingers tracing his skin. He

snapped himself out of his reverie with a quick shake of his shaggy

head.



"Well, have a ball Cajun. I got places to go."



Not wanting to wait for a reply to his bold-faced lie, Logan hopped on his bike and kick

started it to life. He revved the engine a few times before peeling

out of the garage, leaving Remy to stand in a cloud of exhaust in

his rearview mirror.



Logan pulled into the front of a seedy looking roadside

motel. As much as he wanted to just keeping going, his body was

demansing sleep and he grudingly obliged. A small bell jangled as

he entered the front office. An elderly woamn sitting behind the

low wooden counter cast a glance up at him. A slight sneer played

across her lips.



"Can I help you?" Her throaty voice rattled as if she had

spent most of her life alternating between smoking cigarettes and

screaming at the top of her lungs.



"I'd like a room." The lady practically slammed a piece of

paper and a pen on the countertop.



"$45, for the night." Logan brought out his wallet and

handed her a fifty. She took it and searched for a room key while

he filled out the paperwork.



"Room 23, checkout at 11."



She set down his change and key on the counter. He snatched up both and left without another word.

He parked his bike in front of his room and unloaded his bag. Aside

from himself, there were only two other cars in any of the spaces.

Well, at least there would be no one to bother him.

The room was exactly the way he expected it to look. One

bed, a rickety stand with a small lamp, a mirror, a TV suspended

from the ceiling and a hole in the wall he assumed to be the

bathroom. It reeked of stale cigarettes, booze and distant sex.

Logan removed his jacket and threw it on the bed along with his bag

and room key. He wasn't sure if he wanted to set anything on the

nightstand since it already looked strained from the weight of the

lamp. He grabbed the remote from the top of the TV and switched it

on. After quickly toeing off his boots he flopped down on the bed

next to his bag. He wasn't really paying attention to what was on

TV. He just wanted to hear something other than the buzzing of the

neon sign outside and the dripping faucet in the bathroom. After a

few minutes his eyes slid closed and he was asleep.



He's running. The grass is soft and cool beneath his feet.

Gentle laughter from a young girl chases him over the field. The

wind on his face is sweet and free, as free as he is feeling right

now. He hears a voice call out from somewhere, a cry of caution.

His feet fall out from under him and he plunges into cold, black

water. He thrashes, trying to find the surface. All that he can

grab is more black, wet abyss. He can hear a voice, screaming, as

frightened as he. He tries to find the voice but there is nothing.

His chest aches and his lungs are burning form the lack of oxygen.

He can't move his legs anymore and his arms have stopped swinging.

The darkness pulls at him, drawing him down further into neverending

emptiness. He never stops falling.



Logan awoke with a scream, throat raw and tears burning his

eyes. He choked on his own voice and felt the tears spill over to

mix with the sweat on his skin. He tried to catch his breath but

couldn't manage to get anything past his heart, which was lodged so

far up his throat he could practically taste it. He coughed

violently until it dropped back down and he could breathe again.

His chest heaved with deep sobd and his fingers were sore from the

death grip he had on the disheveled bed comforter. It seemed to him

like an eternity before he was finally able to reign in his

hysteria. He just sat quietly watching the white snow play across

the television screen. Sleep, he knew, was a luxury he could not

longer afford tonight.

Weary and pushed beyond depression, Logan dragged his body

into the two by four bathroom. He spun the shower knob as far as it

would go and waited until steam billowed from the top of the plastic

screen before he stepped into the spray of water. The stinging

pressure and close to scalding water beat down on his head. He felt

it wash the grief and aguish from his mind and body, watched as it

swirled at his feet before disappearing down the drain. It left

behind nothing but his hollow shell. Logan stayed this way long

after the water started to go cold. He lingered until he could feel

nothing, because this was the way he wanted to be. If only there

were some way to make it stay.

Enough was at last enough. He turned off the water and

stepped from the shower, moisture dripping off to splash on to the

already damp linoleum floor. He toweled off quickly and got dressed

even quicker. The he grabbed his things and took them outside to

his bike. He drove up to the office and dropped his room key in the

night deposit box. The sun was struggling to come up over the

horizon as a lone Harley sped it's driver down the empty strecth of

country highway.



Logan had been gone for two weeks and it was slowly driving

Remy out of his mind. To the rest of the house he was his usual

suave self, in private he was wearing a rut in his floor. He never

had liked it when Logan would go tramping off by himself. It just

bothered him because trouble always had a way of catching up to

Logan. No matter what corner of the world he was at, someone always

had his number. He was almost as bad as the young thief, himself.

That first night of absence was what had truly set the tone

for his current madness. Remy had been ripped out of slumber by an

overwhelming sensation of crushing grief. It felt as if his heart

was being ripped from his chest. Like life itself was being

squeezed from him, drop by agonizing drop. It was the worst pain he

could have ever imagined. It took hours before he could even catch

his breath. Once he could think clearly again, he knew exactly whom

the emotions were coming from, Logan.

Presently, he was in one of numerous worry fits when there

was a knock at the door. He sighed and sat down at the foot of his

bed.



"Come in." Ororo open the door slightly.



"Remy, is everything alright?" The Acadian instantly

relaxed at the sound of her sweet voice.



"Oui, chere. Why, what's de problem?" The weather goddess

slipped soundlessly into the room, closing the door behind her.



"Rogue is in a huff because the two of you had a sparing

session and you were absent." Remy cringed slightly, it had

completely slipped his mind.



"Merde, was dat t'night? Oh well, I'll make it up to her

later. Come 'ere, 'ave a seat by Remy." He patted the empty space

next to him. Ororo glided across the floor and sat down gently

beside her brother. Remy sighed and laid his head on her lap. She

smiled and slowly ran her fingers through his, fine, silken hair,

massaging the scalp underneath.



"Mmm, dat feel nice." Her quiet laugh was like warm honey

and it melts Remy completely.



After a few moments of petting Ororo looked down at her

brother, a worrysome frown etched firmly on her beautiful features.



"Remy, what is the matter?" Remy tilted his head to get a

better view of her face.



"Wha' 'chu mean?"



"You have not been yourself lately. You have been nothing

but normal around the others but alone, you look, worried." Remy

sighed and pushed himself up to a sitting position.



"Can't put nothin' pas' ya, can I? It's Logan."



A flash of recognition came across Ororo's face. She had known about her

brother's crush on the feral man since day one. Remy could never

keep any secrets from her. Even when he and Rogue were stil "an

item", she would catch the young man stealing glances in the danger

room. Or at the dinner table. Or anywhere else that an opportunity

presented itself. Truth be told, she couldn't blame him. Only

someone in a coma would be unable to see the attraction of the

rugged, Canadian mountain man.



"So you miss him, I presume?"



"It's not jus' dat. Remy really worried 'bout 'im. Dat

night he firs' left, I got woken up an' it felt like m' heart was

breakin'. It was him, I know it was. He was hurtin' bad. Been

spooked eva' since den." Ororo reached out and wrapped her arms

around Remy.



"I know it scares you , brother, but Logan is a grown man.

A very stubborn, grown man. Nothing short of a miracle would get

him to open up and be honest about his fears. It shows weakness and

in Logan's eyes, weakness is the last step before death."



Remy swallowed hard. It was killing him to just stand by and do nothing

while Logan was out there, somewhere. Being torn asunder by his own

demons. Left to suffer, like he had been. Quiet and proud. Remy

turned heavy eyes to his sister, the one person in the world who's

unconditional love he truly trusted more than anything.



"I gotta go fin' him. I can't let dem do dis t' him."



Ororo pulled her lower lip into her mouth in a vain attempt to keep

the tears at bay. It hurt her more than anything to see Remy like

this. After a long moment, she nodded her head.



"I know you do." She threw her arms around his neck and

gave him a fierce hug. "All I ask, is that you be careful. I don't

think my heart could take losing you again." Remy grabbed both of

her hands and held them tightly in his.



"I promise, Remy comin' back. Wit' or wit' out Logan."



The last part was said so quietly, Ororo almost didn't catch it. She

placed a gentle touch on the side of Remy's face.



"Good luck, dear Brother."



Later that night, a rumble was heard from the garage. Then

the distant squeal of tires as Remy raced past the gates, starting

on his long journey to bring back the man he loved.