Unhealthy

Remy lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was spreading and he could feel it devouring inch after inch of his insides. He groaned rolled to his right side while wrapping his arms around his stomach. Eyes wrenched shut and his mouth twisted in unbelievable pain, the roar of his stomach for something to calm the upset became even more than the pain. It hurt to move or even breathe as his breath became shallower with every second. Slowly, Remy's legs curled up over his arms, letting the pain subside little before the full effect of such little movement took over.

A knock came a few minutes later and then a voice that was soft and soothing spoke his name. "Remy?" Jean's voice. A headache from the back of her head pushed her forward to find out what was wrong with the young man. She knocked again and listened with her ear closely pressed to the door. It sounded like a low groan of pain and a ragged breath. "Remy, it's Jean. May I come in, sweetie?"

"Unnnh!" His eyes opened and he quickly unfolded himself and slid off of the bed to run towards the bathroom. Kneeling in front of the toilet, he heaved the fluid in his stomach into the bowl. When he finished, he didn't dare move as another sensation boiled up into his throat. Again, he heaved letting his muscles tighten and his body shake with a cooling sweat.

With a moment to rest, he flushed and turned to his left for a cool cloth to his face when a tall figure stood at the sink. She knelt and had already prepared the cloth for him and began softly wiping his face and lips. He stared at her in hesitation of speaking but let her continue wiping the cool cloth down his neck, dampening the neck of the shirt.

"Let me take off your shirt to help cool you down, okay?" Her voice was as soft as a whisper as she draped the cloth over her knee and helped remove Remy's T-shirt. "There." Draping it over the side of the tub, behind him, she grabbed the cloth on her knee and stood to wash it out and ready it again. Bending down again to wipe his chest and back, she noticed that he watched her closely and was waiting for the questions to start. "You've been ill for a while, haven't you?"

He nodded. He could feel it rising again and couldn't stop himself from turning back to the bowl and heaving time after time. Feeling her presence and thinking she must have been disgusted to see him so vulnerable, only made the feeling in his stomach worse. As another break came, he touched her hand on the handle to flush but hadn't looked away from the dirty water that spun down the drain. Remy felt the cloth sliding over his back, his hair had been moved to one side as she continued on the back of his neck.

Jean stood again to wash it out before wiping his face and was surprised to see him force himself to stand and then turn to sit on the side of the tub. She wrung the cloth out and turned to look at him. He looked paler than before and much more thinner in the body and face than he ever had. She knew that look, the look of impending illness and death. Kneeling before him, she wiped his face and mouth, poking in and wiping his tongue. A hand reached up to brush long auburn strands away from his face but as she pulled away, with it came a big lock of hair that lay limp in her palm. She stared at it for a long while as realisation finally sank in.

Remy didn't meet her eyes, only took the cloth from her and continued to wipe his mouth out. His stomach settled for the time being and he was able to stand without vertigo setting in. She stood too and helped him rinse his mouth out before helping him to bed. He lay there on his back and stared at her, sitting to his right and softly combing his bangs back with her fingers. Her emotions told him that she was disgusted but not with him. She knew what he suffered from and he was greatful she didn't say it.

"How long have you known about this?" Her voice quiet and relaxed.

"Couple o' mont's." He whispered.

Jean nodded. "Does anyone else know about this?"

"Hank."

She stayed there, lightly massaging his hairline next to his left temple. A soft hum of a lullaby hushed him to sleep before she left. Shhhing him and watching his eyes slide shut in a restful sleep, Jean concentrated a moment on a light blue blanket Remy kept on the shelf of his closet. Unfolding it and covering him up with it, she quietly stood up and made her way to the door.

*******

Closing the door and turning around only to jump as Logan stood behind her, Jean breathed a sigh of relief. "Logan, I'd like to talk to you about Remy. May we...?" She motioned to go into his room and talk.

Logan thought a moment and then nodded and waited for her to go inside before following. "How is he?" He had actually wanted to say something else and be so blatant but his mouth knew better. While Jean sat on the edge of his bed, Logan closed the door and leaned against the wall, across from her. His arms folded across his chest and his stare was firm but open.

Jean looked around and sighed. She knew he was a man who liked to be in control of not only his body but his mind and happenings around him. Spotting a picture of he and Remy with their arms around each other's shoulders, on his dresser, it had only made it harder to say. "Logan, Remy is- uh....." She swallowed and looked back at him. "Remy is not well. I went in to talk to him and he was throwing up. He's sleeping now but, I'm afraid he'll only get worse from here on." Her hands figeted as she looked down at them and then up to the door, listening.

"There must be somethin we can do? Guess Famine hit him pretty hard, huh? This'll pass in a few days, right?" Grasping for ideas and trying not to rush up to her and force her to tell him what was wrong, Logan was clueless.

She shook her head but remained focused on the door. "This was not from Famine. It's been building for at least 2 months or so." Finally she looked to him and had a thought. "He didn't say anything to you about not feeling well? What about after you two..... made love? When was the last time you did anything?"

Logan was floored by her questioning. The answers sat on his tongue but he couldn't see why she needed to know about their nighttime habits. What could they possibly have to do with Remy's illness? "No sex for about 3 months." Clearing his throat, he continued. "The last time we did anything, he hurried outta bed and into the bathroom, slammed the door behind him. He stayed in there for about half an hour...... got sick, then left." Logan pushed off of the wall and came closer to her, kneeling in front of her. "What's the matter with him, and why do you need to know about our sexlife?"

Jean opened her mouth to let it out but something in her mind stopped her. "I can't tell you. I think Remy is the person who you should ask, when he feels better enough. I'm sorry I had to ask in such a horrible manner but, I needed to know how he acted with you." She had leaned back from the closeness and waited for him to release her so that she could stand up. "He's resting so, if you want to stay with him, be very quiet." When Logan hadn't moved, she stared into his eyes with calmness. "I'll have Hank check on him in the morning."

"Tell me. What the Hell is wrong with him, Jean?" Logan shook her as he held her by the arms.

Frustrated and startled at his anger, she spilled. "Cancer." The word came loudly enough to make him let go and step back from her. "He has cancer. He's been hiding it from everyone but Hank."

Logan snarled and started to pace in front of her. "How do you know? Maybe it's a bug, or bad gumbo. His genes aren't built for cancer."

"He's been losing weight awfully quick lately, his skin is turning yellow and pale at times, and a lock of hair came out as I brushed it away from his face. He doesn't eat anymore because he can't keep it down, That was why Famine took him down so quickly, that's why he fainted like he did after the attack. Logan, Remy got sick after sex because of the orgasm, right? Be it oral, or anal he became naucious and threw up." Jean stood and tried to explain as best she could.

"No!" Logan stopped but didn't look at her. "He doesn't have cancer. He can't. He's a mutant."

Hurt by his lack of understanding, Jean opened the door and stepped forward to leave. "Even mutants get sick, Logan. Goodnight." She left and closed his door behind her. Her mind connected to Scott's mind and told him that Remy wasn't feeling well and that she
was going to stay with him for the night. Knocking on his door quietly, she turned the knob and pushed it open with soundless ease. He was still asleep and in the same position as she left him.

Closing the door and making her way around to the other side of the bed, Jean eased down beside him and wrapped her left arm around him, lightly pressing his back to her chest. She closed her eyes and softly hummed her lullaby as she fell asleep.

********

Logan remained at arm's length from Remy for two weeks. He was hurt and afraid of silly human fear of catching whatever Remy had, or at the very most, not being able to fix it. When Remy did get close enough to him, he'd open his arms for a hug but was only pushed away and sometimes knocked to the floor as Logan barrelled over him and out the door.

He hadn't meant to hurt him but Logan didn't know how else to deal with it. So, he spent most of the two weeks down at Harry's Hideaway, talking to Irivan. He told her the story of what happened and waited for her advice as if she were a genius of mutant physics. Logan's mind adamantly refused to accept that his best friend and mate was possibly terminally ill.

"Logan, maybe he didn't tell you because he thought you would act this way?" Irivan took a sip of her bottle of Sprite. She leaned against the countre, across from him and toyed with the green glass bottle.

Logan was confused. "What way would that be?"

"The way you are right now." She stared at him calmly. Her blue eyes bore holes into his soul through his and tested his rage at being called out. "You say you can't think of gettin close to him, touchin him. Cancer isn't like a cold. You don't get it like breathin the same air as him. Nothin stopped you for 3 months of closeness, right?" Irivan blinked as her words sank into him.

"Mutants aren't humans. Different genes."

Irivan smirked at his words but hadn't meant anything by it. "Logan, mutants are human. Our genes are just a bit more complicated than their's." Placing a hand on his as it lay shaking on the countre, she added softly. "He needs your support and understanding, not your fear and isolation."

Admitting she was right, Logan nodded and finished his last sip of beer before thanking her and kissing her cheek as he got up to leave. "Thanks darlin. Harry's got a smart niece."

Smiling, Irivan shrugged. "Eh, I try. Tell him to get well soon." She winked and said goodbye as he left.

Logan raced all the way back to the mansion, up the stairs and into Remy's room only to find it empty. He checked the bathroom, the floor on the other side of the bed, and finally his room. No sign of Remy at all. A voice entered his head, it was Jean telling him that Remy was in the medlab and he'd better hurry.

He spent the rest of the afternoon and night sitting beside Remy's bed, waiting for Remy to wake up. Sitting in a chair with wooden arms, his left ankle rest on his right thigh and his chin on his right thumb as he stared at the sleeping Cajun. He had pushed him down hard enough to cause bruises and Remy's bones to weaken.

Jean had been upset with him but she was more worried than upset when she talked to him about Remy's condition. She checked on Remy every two hours and brought Logan a plate of supper and a blanket in case he got cold.

"I'm sorry I pushed him...... away." He mumbled as he sat in the dark, eyes focused on Remy.

Jean turned back from standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry you pushed him away too. I'll be back." Forcing a smile, Jean returned to her desk and looked over the test evaluations, thinking of how to treat Remy.


Next.....