The Picture In The Attic

Author: SisterWine
Rating: R, NC-17 later. sisterwine75@hotmail.com
Pairing: Jacques/Logan, Remy/Logan
Disclaimer: Marvel Comics and 20th Century Fox own the rights to The X-Men, their likenesses, and Jacques and Jean-Luc LeBeau.
Summary: Remy finds an old picture of a Union soldier in his attic. The letter attached tells a story that Remy can't put down.
Notes: My eternal thanks to Logan Berry and Rick for the help. LB, thanks for talking to me when I needed someone to understand. This story is for you.


"Dere's a guest room around de corner. Mainly my home office wit' a bed but, s' not completely an office. Bathroom's across de hall but, s' only a washroom. Shower's upstairs." He talked as he led Logan out of the livingroom and around the corner to the right, behind the stairs.

The room straight ahead and the washroom on the left, he gave Logan a quick tour of the downstairs before taking him upstairs to show him where the shower was. So far, Logan had remained quiet and courteous through the small tour, and found himself watching Remy's every move and listening to him closely. He smiled as they passed the children's rooms and laughed to himself at the toy-strewn, shiny white tiled small guest bathroom. But, he fell silent when Remy showed him his room.

Remy waved a hand at his open door. "Dat's my room. Just' knock if ya need anyt'in."

Logan nodded. "Thank you. Prolly grab a shower in the mornin. Flight leaves tomorrow evenin."

"Goin back ta Canada?"

"No, not directly. Got some work to show off in New York, first. Then, goin home." Leaning against the doorframe to Remy's bedroom, he folded his arms and stared at Remy as he stood fully into the bedroom. Checking his watch on the inside of his left wrist, he sighed and looked back up at Remy.

Remy looked at the clock by the bed. Eight o' clock. "Still early. Want some coffee, or are ya tired?"

He could do with some coffee but, he wasn't tired at all. Not with a Cajun that resembled a former flame, standing in the middle of his bedroom with a thunder and lightning storm raging outside. The last thing Logan had thought about was sleep. "What uh- what is it you do?"

"Architect." Remy smiled. "Had dis house built when my ex an' I were married. Den she left, an' traded ev'thin for someone younger. Alex, my boy, took all de pictures of her down, and put dem somewhere. Bobbie won't even bring her up."

"Kids always have it the hardest with that sort of family thing."

Nodding, Remy bit his lower lip and cleared his throat. "Do you need anythin before bed?" He asked in a shakey tone, changing the subject quickly.

Logan took a minute to think. He knew what he needed and why, but the problem was, how to ask without scaring Remy. "You don't have pets, do you? I'm not gonna be attacked by 'Fluffy' in the middle of the night, am I?"

Remy laughed lowly. "Non. No pets." A clap of thunder interrupted them and they both looked up at the ceiling as if silently scolding it for ruining the moment. Remy looked back at Logan to see the man carefully looking at him. "Dere's a TV in de livin'room, or a small portable in de closet, on de shelf. Sorry, I'm a bit tired, tonight."

"Yea, I should prolly hit the hay, too." Logan nodded. "We can talk more in the mornin." Pushing himself off of the doorframe, he smiled and turned to go back downstairs. "Night.... Remy." Making sure he got the name right, he stopped to look back to see Remy nod and say goodnight back. He smiled to himself as he slowly went back down the stairs and into the bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~

Logan laid down on the firm bed. It was a firm, pillow-topped mattress with clean white linen and a lightweight but fluffy comforter. His clothes were draped neatly over the side of the bed, at the end, so he lay there in only his cotton boxers. Laying on his back, he stared up at the darkened white ceiling and thought to himself.

"You got a good lookin family, kid. That boy 'o yer's is a close ringer but, yer grandkid is dead on. Just wish I coulda beat that kid back to you and told ya myself I wasn't dead. But, at least you had that family you kept yappin about. I'm glad you did. He's real nice, this Remy. Is this the second chance with you I've been waitin for?" Staring at the ceiling as if seeing Jacques staring down at him, he spoke quietly. He sighed and closed his eyes to try to sleep.

His dreams were tainted with images of Jacques, a prisoner on his cot. He pictured his face, so soft and young. The smoothe body of the frail Captain, bound to the rails of the cot as he stared up at Logan. The words he harshly spat at his captor seemed to be said in slow motion.

Rolling onto his right side, his images of Jacques took a turn as well. He began seeing Jacques sitting around the fireplace in the den of his father's house, having tea and brandy while talking to his family and friends. The young Captain told the group of 7 about his adventures in the war before a young, ebony boy of 9 stood in the doorway and waved him away from them.

Jacques set down his brandy glass and cleared the smile from his face as he stood up. Walking over to the boy, he pointed to the kitchen and followed the child through the door. Telling the servants to busy themselves elsewhere, he spun the boy around to talk to him. "What news from him?"

The boy shook uncontrollably. "Brung a package for you, sur. It's from dat man you tol' me ta meet." He stared up but didn't meet Jacques' eyes. instead, he stared at the pale blue shirt buttons and waited for Jacques to approve of him fetching it.

"Well, where is it?" Jacques' brow furrowed and he spoke impatiently.

The boy nodded and curtly excused himself to run to the cellar to retrieve the small package wrapped in brown paper and tied with a white string. When he returned, he held the package up for Jacques and uneasily took a step back as it was taken from him. "Was dirty when I wrap it up, sur. Di'n have time ta warsh it 'cuz I was runnin back here. Tooked it from de man's bag. Don' reckon he need it no more, sur." He spoke, and his shakes filtered into his speech.

"Merci. Excused." Jacques stared at the package and hadn't noticed the boy leave the room and a beautiful young housemaid enter the room. Turning around as he was aware of someone else in the room with him, he stared at her. "Tell poppa dat I'm not feelin well an' I'm goin to lay down."

She nodded and asked softly. "Shall I warm your bed, sur?" Smiling sweetly and hoping he said no, she calmly awaited his answer before sending her off to tell Master LeBeau of his son's sudden health.

"Non. Go." Jacques refocused on the package in his hands as he left the kitchen and made his way up the stairs to his room. Closing the door and placing the package on the end of his bed, Jacques hesitated before opening it. Pacing back and forth, he bit his right thumbnail and glanced, every other second, at the brown paper package.

A knock on his door and a stern, gentleman's voice called to him. Quickly, he slipped the parcel under his bed and hurriedly started unfastening his shirt buttons. "Oui, poppa." He called as he sat down on the side of his bed.

The door opened and a tall, distinguished southern gentleman entered the room. He was an image of Jacques, aged and with a cleanly trimmed beard and mustache that lined his thin face. "Not feeling well, Jacques? Perhaps something you ate? Is it the war, son?" He watched Jacques remove his shirt and draped it over the end of the bed before tending to his boots.

"Non, poppa. Just tired s' all. De food was fine." He smiled casually up at his father, who stood in the doorway. Placing his boots beside the bed, and glancing at his reflection in the vanity mirror atop his white 3 drawer dresser that sat to the right of the bed, Jacques took a breath. He lay down, on his back, and closed his eyes.

His father stood there a minute before coming closer. "I'll send Apple up with some soup, later. If you feel up to it. Are you sure you're alright, Jacques?" His controlled accent gave subtle hints of the finest schools his family was charitable to, and his demeanour was simply superb.

Jacques nodded but didn't open his eyes. "Just tired, poppa. Be fine after a while."

Bending over his son, he felt Jacques' forehead and cheeks before lightly patting Jacques' chest. "Okay. Rest well, mon fils." He whispered and quietly left the room, closing the door silently behind him. He had always been a doting father to his two children but since Jacques came home from the war, he given more time to Jacques than his sister of late.

Tossing and turning, Jacques' mind focused on what was in the package and what the boy had meant by Logan not needing them anymore. A heavy, annoyed sigh escaped as Jacques finally sat up and stared at the end of his bed. It had been a soft item in the paper but Jacques wondered what, exactly. Crawling to the end of his bed and sitting there on his knees, he leaned over and reached for the package, underneath.

Grabbing the strings and lifting it up onto the bed, Jacques chewed his bottom lip and stared at it. Pulling on a string's end, he let it unravel and slid the string off of the package. Sitting back, he hesitated a moment and reached a shakey hand towards the paper. Opening the package, he looked inside and found a neatly folded, dirty and red tinged Union shell jacket. "What's this?" He asked in a slow whisper. Lifting the jacket out of the paper and examining the red stains on the collar and both lapels, Jacques began to pant nervously, fearing the worst.

The red had long been dry and only invaded the material's usual colour in a thin line on the collar, and dark spatters on the lapels. "Non! Non, Logan...??!" His voice refused to speak above a whisper, and he felt sick when he tried. "Don' tell me you're dead, Logan. No."

A knock at the door startled him.

"Master Jacques, sur. I bring you some soup." A feminine muffled voice spoke behind the door.

Jacques cleared his throat and shoved the jacket hurriedly back into the paper and shoved it under his bed. "Come." He said, almost giving away the tears that fell onto his bare chest. He sat back and waited for the woman to enter with the tray of soup.

A young, ebony woman pushed the door open while balancing a small silver tray in her left hand. She was thin but barely healthy, and her long black hair had been pulled back into a tight, low bun. A black dress with white apron seemed to oversize her by two sizes. "Are you feeling better, sur?" She asked in a squeaky voice but forced a smile as she spoke. She was frightened of him but was able to relax a bit as he hadn't been as cruel as before the war.

Jacques had changed.

Looking up at her, he smiled shortly. "Hm? Yes. Feelin better, Apple. Merci." He nodded twice before bowing his head and thinking about the jacket under the bed.

"Would you like me to run yo'r bath for you, m'sieur?" Placing the tray on the dresser, she turned and studied him. Something was wrong and she couldn't quite place it.

Jacques only shook his head, instead of answering her.

Apple's brow furrowed but she didn't ask. Courtesying quickly,she turned to leave him alone when she was stopped by her name being spoke calmly, almost sadly. Turning back around, she contained the shock of seeing him near tears.

"Close de door, come sit on de bed." Quiet and collected, Jacques watched as she obeyed. Turning to watch her sit to his right, he took a deep breath and held it before slowly releasing it and clearing his head of the static that screamed at him. "Do you like it here, in dis house?" He watched her reaction to his question and carefully weighed her answer.

She nodded. "Yes, sur."

"Your chile is well cared for, yes?" Keeping eye contact with her, he inched slowly forward.

Another nod. "Yes." She sat ladylike with her hands in her lap and her head down but up enough to look at his face.

A corner of his mouth turned up in a smile as he hooked a finger under her chin. "You love him very much, no?" Leaning forward slowly and whispering as his lips came within inches of hers. "But, you want to be in de Nort' with him?"

She nodded and froze as her eyes grew wide, waiting on his next move.

Jacques closed the distance and caressed her lips with his, easing them apart and massaged her tongue with his. Changing positions, he reached up to unfasten the bun at the nape of her neck and let her coarse but soft hair run through his fingers. He held the back of her head gently and eased her to lie down on the bed before moving to push up the skirt of her dress. Holding himself up with one hand while the other uncovered her womanhood, he watched her carefully.

He was gentle in his movements and slow as he cautiously leaned over to kiss her again while unfastening and removing his slacks. Backing away from her, Jacques removed himself from the bed completely and posed her so that she was fully laying on the bed. Removing his clothes and letting them drop onto the wood floor, he slowly eased himself back onto the bed. "Ya love me, Apple?" The question was more than halfhearted but meant less than complete love for her.

Apple nodded and watched him like a scared rabbit.

Jacques crawled up from the end of his bed and positioned himself between her thin, long legs. "Won' hurt you, mon cherie." Leaning over her to stare straight down into her eyes, he entered her slowly and watched her expression change from calm to shock to hopeless panic. He silenced her cries of pain with a long, deep kiss that took her mind off of what he was doing.

When the kiss broke, Jacques' pace quickened but not harshly. He could feel her wrap her arms around him as his movement inside her became quick and pained. He faced the pillow over her left shoulder and continued with his eyes closed. Grunting loudly in her ear, he squeezed his eyes shut and curled his fingers into his quilt. Nearing completion, Jacques whispered the name that halted him in mid orgasm.

"Logan."

Apple gasped loudly at the feel of force behind his orgasm, as well as her own. Her grip around him became tighter as he relaxed into her arms and removed himself from her. She panted and turned away from him, retreating her arms from him. "Dat de man dat make you different, master Jacques?" Since he had returned from the war, he had been more kinder to her and the others in the house.

Panting heavily and staring at the ceiling, Jacques thought about the question. Turning his head to look at her only to stare at her back, he pushed himself up to rest on his right elbow and look over her shoulder. "He was de man dat promised me love." His eyes glistened with tears as he spoke. "But ended up dead, without me."

Curious, she turned back to look up at him and finally see that he was emotionally crushed. "Ya certain?"

He nodded. "Would you stay, here, or go to the North? If I asked you?"

Apple shifted and slowly sat up. "I don't understand, sur."

Jacques sat back and knelt beside her. He wiped away the wetness on his cheeks and looked away for a moment. "In Vicksburg, I was taken prisoner by dis man from the Union. Spent de night wit' him...... as his slave...... an' he made me realise dat slaves are people too. Some things happened dat...." he paused and shifted uneasily. "I don't have the right to ask, but it won't be like before. I promise."

Letting his words sink in, Apple looked up at him and hoped he understood her decision. "We're free?" She watched in disbelief as he nodded solemnly. "Master, sur, my prayers have been answered, ....... and you want me to stay? Iffin I stay, how's it gonna be different? Will looks up to you as a father but, I need to take him somewhere where we can have a life. Dis man, he show you de meanin of a slave so, please understand dat we need to be free. Please?"

Bowing his head in shame, Jacques nodded. "Den, I can't be your master anymore. You're free, now." Jacques raised his head and leaned over slowly to kiss her on the lips. "G'bye, my Apple." He whispered and waved his hand for her to leave as he turned his head away from her.

He felt her slide off of the bed and heard the door being softly pulled to before he slowly slipped off of the bed and knelt on the floor beside the end. Pulling out the package, he reached a shakey hand towards the soft blue jacket. Picking it up and pulling it close to him, the sadness overwhelmed him and his tears began to dampen the dusty material. "No. Logan, please." Whispering into the jacket's left shoulder, he crushed it to him for some feel of the man that used to wear it.

Jacques stood and still clutched the jacket close as he paced the length of his room. He sat down on his bed after several minutes of pacing and crumpled over, into a ball. He was crying freely now and holding a hand over his mouth to force back the loud sobs. Laying there for a moment, Jacques hushed himself of his sobs and dried his eyes.

He lay fully on the bed and draped the jacket overtop of himself, staring up at the ceiling. Placing the jacket as if he were putting it on backward, he smoothed it out with only his right hand outside of the material while his left remained concealed and began to stroke his growing erection. Closing his eyes and holding his right arm against the back of the jacket, Jacques began to whisper to himself. "Logan please, harder." Teeth ground as his left pulled himself harder and held tighter to him. "Deeper, Logan. Need you so bad. Need.... you...." He gasped and bent his knees to place his feet flat on the bed, spreading his legs wider as he continued to masturbate himself into orgasm. "Stay wit' me, please. Come wit' me. Lo....gan.... need.... you... so.... rrrgghh!" Harder and faster until his hips lifted up off of the bed and a hot, sticky spatter of come sprayed the inside of the jacket.

Not opening his eyes until he calmly lowered himself to lie flatly on the bed, he slowly came about his wits and listened to the silence a moment. No one beside him, panting hard and cooing in his ear that they enjoyed it. Nor was there anyone holding him close, except for his right arm that wrapped so tightly around his stomach, he feared he wouldn't be able to let go. Jacques sobbed and inhaled Logan's remaining scent from the blood-stained collar.

Bolting awake and sitting up in bed as a flash of lightning followed by a roll of thunder echoed throughout the room. Logan panted so hard he thought his heart would jump out of his chest. Reaching a hand up to wipe the sweat from his face, he swallowed and calmed himself before pushing off of the bed and out into the livingroom. He eyed the trunk that sat in the middle of the room and the two different jackets that rest on its lid.

Walking over to it, he stopped in front of his jacket and picked it up to look at it. No blood or semen stains but the medals and ribbons he had achieved were intact. Picking up the Confederate jacket and placing them both on the sofa, behind him, he slowly opened the lid and reached in to carefully fish for the other jacket, at the bottom. It too, had been folded neatly and placed to one side as he pulled it out and examined it carefully. Blood on the collar and lapels were his. Semen on the inside and ........ a new bloodstain overtop of the semen, were not his. "What have you done, Jacques?" He asked in a whisper to no one immediate.

On the next lightning flash, Logan's attention was directed back to the doorway as he caught a shadowy figure standing there, staring at him calmly. He wore a Confederate uniform and stood at ease with his hands behind his back, and watched Logan as he held the soiled jacket. "Jacques?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

Making his way upstairs, Logan quietly walked around to lean against Remy's open door and watch him sleep. He had put his pants back on but not the rest of his clothes.

With his back to Logan, Remy had been lost in his own tale of dreams and mewled softly as he shifted every few minutes. His chest was bare as he slept in only his boxers and a brown cotton sheet. He had tossed the blanket off the end of the bed from getting too hot and now wrapped himself up in the sheet as the air turned on.

He stood there a moment and listened to Remy silently breathe.

Remy looked at peace in his dream until he rolled from his right side to his back, keeping his head towards the window. His arms lay spread to either side so he lay almost in a star pose. His right leg was bent and pinned by the ankle underneath his left knee and twitched slightly every few breaths.

Logan stood there a moment and watched him sleep. Pushing off of the frame, he carefully took a few steps into the room and stopped halfway between the door and the bed. Lightning flashed in front of him, through the window, and made him take his eyes off Remy to glance outside.

Moaning softly in his sleep, Remy was lost in his own dream of something so interesting that he didn't move as a loud thunder clap roared heavily above. His brow furrowed for a few seconds and then eased as a slurred half sentence escaped his lips as he turned his head to face the ceiling. His eyebrows came together in another uncertain part of the dream but didn't ease right away. Another whispered slur that was barely understandable as he sighed. "I die when you go."

Leaning in to try and understand what that meant, Logan tilted his head to the right and knelt down to get eye level with him. Slowly reaching out to brush the fringe from Remy's left temple, he hadn't speculated that Remy would feel his fingers lightly brush against him, and turned his head into the touch.

Remy gave a dreamy sigh but didn't open his eyes as his left cheek rest in Logan's open hand.

He was stuck. If he moved, he'd wake up Remy but if he didn't, he'd risk getting caught when Remy woke of his own accord. Sighing to himself and thinking of how to remove himself without waking his host, Logan became content on watching Remy sleep. Joy consumed him as each lightning strike made Remy's face glow briefly.

It was like a lightswitch someone was turning off and on, quickly. He saw Remy in his bed but with a blink, he saw Jacques asleep on his cot, in his tent, and back again. It lasted several seconds but had Logan convinced he was seeing Jacques in place of Remy. Slowly, he leaned over and lightly brushed his lips against his. Pulling back and licking his lips, it was like tasting Jacques for the first time in his tent.

Logan kissed him once more but as he pulled back again, he was now being stared at by Remy, and not Jacques. He drew his breath in and sat back, waiting for the anger to follow. Amazedly, he was not attacked from any angle except Remy's softly pulsing red eyes. "I- I'm sorry." He whispered calmly. He made no effort to justify his mistake as a war "relapse".

"For what?" Remy blinked.

Logan removed his hand from Remy's cheek and stood up. "I uh- It was a long time ago that we-" He broke his sentence and reached his right hand to nervously scratch at the back of his head.

Remy sat up, trying to stop the other man from leaving without finishing. "Y' saw him, too. Didn' ya?" He stared up at Logan with a desperate look.

Not answering, Logan turned the conversation to something else. "You talked in yer sleep. Said somethin Jacques said to me after the last time we met; 'I die when you go.' That was before we won the war and were shipped back home. You look too much like him, Remy." He sat down on the edge of the bed and stared into Remy's eyes. "Can't be just coincidence."

A cold shiver ran down Remy's back and made him twitch. "What happened b'tween you two? What did you do dat haunted my gran'father? De journal say you made him a slave, how?" Both hands reached up to lay gently on Logan's shoulders. His breath caught as his wrists were caressed by warm hands and lightly squeezed.

Logan sighed deeply and looked away, towards the wall to his right. When he looked back and stared directly into Remy's eyes, he swallowed and answered. "I made love to him." He could see the confusion in Remy's eyes as he explained. "I took a 24 year old, and showed him the meaning of sensuality. I was tryin to get him to realise what it was like to be at someone else's mercy, only it backfired. Everything after that was just casual sex, up until our last meetin at Charleston Harbor." He stopped and thought it best not to continue.

"What happened dere?" He had hung on every word, trying to picture the scenes in his mind of what Logan was telling him.

Logan shook his head. "It happened a long time ago. Doesn't matter anymore." He started to stand up when Remy stopped him and moved forward to kiss him, deeply.

"What if I ask you to show me how ya made him feel?" Letting the words spill out into the open, he caught Logan swallow hard. "What if I ask you to make love to me? Not Jacques, no, but mebbe dat's what he's tryin ta say. Wants me ta pick up where bot' of you left off, non?"

Logan sat back down and saw in Remy's expression that he was clearly telling the truth. "And then what? This leads to a relationship, and yer kids won't know how to handle it. If yer dad don't like talkin about Jacques, how's he gonna take seein me? What's he gonna say when he sees me, and remembers that I'm the one that changed his dad's life because o' what happened in my tent?"

"Shh shhh shh." Remy placed two fingers on Logan's lips to silence him. "We cross dat bridge when we come to it, no?" Removing his fingers and placing his lips on Logan's, Remy boldly kissed him as if they had been lovers for years.

Closing his eyes and leaning into the kiss, Logan eased Remy to lie back on the bed as he began to climb overtop of him. He could feel Remy's hands on his chest, stroking the soft, fuzzy plains before letting them move to press against his erection. He paused as Remy began to unfasten the pants and push them down to his knees. With one hand holding him above Remy, the other grabbed Remy's right wrist and forced him to stop. He opened his eyes to see Remy giving him a quizzical look. "I don't like people undressin me. Sides, I uh- ain't got protection."

Remy nodded and smiled. "Top drawer." Leading Logan with his eyes to the nightstand where the clock sat. "Some KY in dere, too."

As Logan busied himself with undressing and readying himself, he stole glances out of the corner of his eye as Remy removed his own boxers and lay back, waiting. He let his clothes fall to the floor where Remy had let his boxers drop, beside the bed, and swallowed as he held the tube of KY in his hand, looking at Remy. "You sure about this?"

"Oui. I'm sure." Hiding his nervousness, Remy smiled up at him as Logan spread his legs to kneel between them. He was aroused, like Logan but he knew it wasn't all his emotions. He took a deep breath as Logan squeezed the open tube of jelly into a puddle on his hand before tossing it onto the nightstand.

Working the jelly onto the condom, on his erection, Logan fixed his eyes on Remy's expression. "Just relax, it hurts worse if you tense up." He spoke with genuine tenderness in his voice as he bent over, holding himself up on his right hand. "Raise yer leg and spread them a little further apart." Giving soft directions and being patient as Remy obeyed, he smiled and lowered his hips to place the tip at the tight entrance.

Hissing as Logan pushed gingerly in, he raised his hips up, off of the bed and tensed. Holding his breath a moment and then releasing, Remy apologised. "Sorry. New to dis." He smiled nervously but hadn't wanted to stop completely. "How'd ya do it for Jacques?"

Logan licked his lips in thought of how to approach the situation. Finally giving in, he lunged forward to claim Remy's lips in another deep kiss as he easily glided quickly into the tight opening. He had gelled his erection more than he ever did, which helped in the initial introduction. He had already started a slow rhythm as the kiss broke. "With him, it was much more painful. Only used leather oil back then. Wasn't exactly comfortable fer either of us." He said when he was able to get Remy to relax into his ministrations.

Remy nodded and moaned and dug his nails into Logan's arms as he held on tightly.

The gel worked itself into the skin and condom, creating more friction bit by bit. Logan's pace quickened and deepend at the same time. He could not only hear but feel Remy's heartbeat pounding in his ears. He gasped as Remy held tightly to his hips and pulled him into deep thrusts. "Unh! Gah! Mmm, Remy." That seemed to complete it. Saying Remy's name, and not Jacques' had forced Logan into orgasm. His eyes had been closed but as he said Remy's name, he saw himself making love to Jacques, on his cot, in his tent. It was only when he opened his eyes and stared at Remy, he knew that it was Remy Jacques was telling him to be with.

Removed and laying himself beside Remy, Logan sobbed quietly into the pillow. He lay on his left side, as Remy lay still on his back, in front of him, and cried. "Because I loved him, I drove him mad. It was my fault he killed himself." Admitting to the pillow because he couldn't bare to look at Remy's face.

"Non. Non." Remy rolled onto his side and looked adoringly at Logan. "Jacques went mad because he hear dat you were dead. Den, you show up, makes him t'ink dat he see your ghost. He tell his journal dat it's not your fault. He loved you so much, Logan. Didn' blame ya fer nothin, cher."

Catching his breath and hushing his sobs, he opened his eyes to see Remy staring lovingly back at him. "Never wanted this to happen, Jacques. I just.... love you." He whispered.

"I know." Remy whispered back and eased forward to lightly kiss his lips and smoothe his damp black hair from his temple. "I love you too, Logan."


End....?