Hearts' Desires

AN: I blame this on the plot bunnies and very bored muse, re-watching the old cartoon and reading fanfics til 5am.Seriously those damn bunnies would NOT let me get away with not writing this down. Freakin' slave drivers.

Chapter 1: Secret Admirer

Beautiful Windrider, Weather Witch, Mistress of the Elements, Goddess, High Priestess, Princess of N'Dare. These were all things she was known by and none of her titles were of any help to the one thing, Storm truly wished for at the moment. The ability to give her brother in nature peace. Ever since the incident in Antarctica, Logan had been less man and more animal. Most simply chalked it up to the fact he was upset that, Gambit, Remy had been left behind for dead. That his body had not been brought home. Only she knew the truth. Logan was upset because Remy was gone and that he had never been able to admit his love for the Cajun thief. Storm had offered what comfort she could considering her own pain at the loss of her brother, but the Canadian had rebuffed almost but the simplest efforts from her.



Rogue’s presence hadn’t helped things either. Logan when he had found out that she had been the one to leave Remy behind had flown into a rage. He’d come within an inch of going feral and slicing the red-head to pieces. She remembered the day clearly because Warren with all his smug arrogance and self loathing had snarled at her, “Why the hell are you defending that MURDER?! After what he did to the Morlocks, your people, and my wings, how can you defend him?”



The air in the war room grew hot with static and humidity as she turned on the playboy. She wasn’t sure still what look was on her face, but it was enough to make Warren step back from her. “You do not know my brother as I do. He has done many things in the past, things that have shamed him, but he was never a killer.” Warren’s blond hair was standing on end as she stepped towards him, “If I ever hear you say one more thing about him, ever hear you speak his name in an unkind way, you will find out that Logan is not the only child of Nature not to cross.” She’d turned on her heel and left. From that day til now Warren had given her plenty of space.



With a heavy sign, Storm turned away from the sight of Logan heading off into the tree line. He needed nature’s loving embrace and so did she. Leaving the mansion she headed to the one place that gave her comfort, her greenhouse. Opening the door, Storm’s steps faltered. There on her work bench were two flower pots, each holding tropical orchids from Africa. “Who?” Looking around Storm did not see anyone. this was beyond a special gift and she wanted to thank whomever had left them. Crossing over to the bench she caressed each pelt, sniffed each bloom. They were so delicate, so perfect. The dark thoughts from earlier were lifted as she grabbed her tools and began looking for the perfect spot for her gifts. Whomever had given her the flower knew Storm very well. Oh she loved all flowers and plants, but these? These were the sort of gift that came from much thought and considerations. The rest of her day was spent replanting the orchids and making sure they would thrive. Cutting one eye catching bloom, Storm worked it into the hair just above her left ear. She at least wanted to acknowledge the gift given and hoped the giver would come forward.



Inside, her admirer already knew the pleasure she took in the gift because he’d been watching her from the moment she headed out for the greenhouse. Yellow eyes filled with joy watching as she touched and sniffed each flower, planted them with care and then took one and wore it. Stepping back from the window, Kurt smiled to himself, it had worked. For weeks, no months he had watched the vibrant mutant retreat into herself. As much as she tried to comfort Logan, she left very little for herself. The loss of Remy had been devastating to him as well. The smooth talking young man had made fast friends with Kurt and had then first and only really to realize that he was hopelessly in love with Storm. Remy of course had teased the blue furred mutant about it night and day. He’d also pointed out to Kurt that if he never got up the courage to talk with Storm, ask her out, that he would quote “Loose out on de chance of tru’ love. Love she is a cruel M’tress, but better to embrace da flame rather than to shy away, non?”



Kurt knew Remy spoke from experience, but had never been able to pry the truth of it from Gambit. He wasn’t speaking about his relationship with Rogue, that much he knew. When he came home from visiting his adopted family, Kurt had been upset, no hurt and ashamed to hear that his closest friend had been left out on the ice. He had even gone so far as to teleport to the ruins of the citadel only to find no sign of Remy. No corpse, no remains, no signs the Cajun had been there. Every day his words rung in his ears louder and louder the more he watched Storm more until he had to do something. At which point he’d jump to action, and a few books and Internet searches later he had found the perfect gift. Borowing an image inducer, Kurt had transported himself cross content and return with his prize. Early in the morning he’d crept into the greenhouse and left them for the dark beauty to find them. The wait had nearly killed him, so had the nagging worry that maybe Storm wouldn’t like them. Boy was he wrong.



“You deserve some happiness in zes dark days Liebling.” Whistling a soft tune, tail swaying soft Kurt strode into his bathroom for a shower.



At the boathouse, Logan had dragged his weary body in and thrown himself upon the couch. All the running, all the fights in the Danger Room, all the booze and all of the cigars had done nothing to dull the pain in his heart and mind. No one who knew Logan would ever say he was a coward, but he would say it. When it came to Remy he was the biggest coward on the face of the planet. The only person who knew about his feelings for the younger mutant was Ororo. Of course she was the only one to notice the way he watched Gambit, the way he spoke about him. All of it had the hallmarks of love and he had it bad. Of course he had never drawn up the courage to say anything, not when Remy was with Rouge and never when the two were on one of their many breaks. No instead Logan had simply relished in every bit of male bonding the pair did; poke, riding their respective motorcycles, watching the game, you name it.



Even if he wasn’t able to follow through on his desires, he took every bit of pleasure in spending time with the Cajun. Which was also why he had come to the boathouse. Whenever things were rough or Remy needed his space from Rogue he came here. The couch and the bed still held that spicy musky scent that was Remy. He was like a jungle cat, all muscle and grace. The kid was gorgeous in that handsome sort of way men like him could be. It wasn’t just the outside though that attracted him to Remy. It was also what was on the inside. Remy for all his faults was a saint. Sure he liked to cat around sometimes and was more than willing to pull a prank or two , but Remy generally liked everyone around him. Even when someone like Warren was giving him a hard time, Remy simply shrugged it off. Logan could see the cutting remarks, the cruel jokes got to him, but he never lashed out. Never retaliated. He took it all on his shoulders and let them use him as a scapegoat for their frustrations.



It killed him to watch it happen, whenever he stood up for Remy, the Cajun would stop him, tell him, “Its alright, cher. Remy don’ mind der jokes.” It was a think line, but Logan usually let it go. That was until the trial, or as he liked to think of it the three ring fuckin’ circus. The moment he heard Remy was dead and left behind something in him snapped. His claws had been popped and he came so close to gutting the bitch. Rogue, the woman was supposed to love Remy, had left hid body behind, left his corpse to the snow and the ice. The fact everyone had taken her word, made no effort then or even later to recover his body bad it all the worse. Only two things stopped him, one Remy wouldn’t want him to kill her and two, Ororo laying into Warren. That moment gave him a new found respect for the woman. Sure she could get mad and lecture, but before that moment Ororo had never threatened anyone with serious bodily harm unless they were the enemy.



As much as he wished too Logan just couldn't stand to let her try and help him. She was mourning just as much for Remy and he couldn’t stand to to see pity for him in her eyes. It was just too much to bear. Nightly he prayed silently to whatever higher power that was out there to bring the Cajun back to him. Of course Logan didn’t really think that if anyone was listening actually cared. After all in his very long life they had never listened to his prayers before.  The Elf had tried to reach out to him, but just like Ororo he’d been rebuffed gently.  There was only one thing that was going to give Logan, peace and it was unlikely to happen.



Miracles didn’t happen for people like him.



----Elsewhere----



A limp and bruised body lay on a pile of blankets on the floor of the cell. A heavy red Genoshan collar hung about his neck. Matted and dingy auburn hair draped itself over him halfway down his back. One thin arm laid limp next to the still, but breathing form, various track marks covered his forearm and there was an implanted IV site attached to him as well. Remy had spent two days, two long torturous days out in the ice and the snow before he had been found...by Sinister and his clones. The only reason why there was anything to find was because the mutant had instinctively charged his own body, the only thing he could do to survive. He’d done it with the hope, that maybe, just maybe one of the X-men would come looking for him.



Too bad for him Sinister had gotten there first. The mad doctor had been keeping an eye on things, the entire time, determined to recover his favorite test subject. Rogue had all been too willing to leave Remy to die. Leave him for the ice and the penguins. Part of him at first had wanted to believe she had done it because all of his secrets had overwhelmed her. It was a lie that had kept him warm for only a few hours. By the fifth hour Gambit thought back to the look in her eyes. That same cold and uncaring look that mystique had. It wasn’t mental anguish that made her drop him, it had been pure hatred and the chance to take the opportunity to unshackle herself guilt free from her Cajun lover.



At the best of times, their relationship was rocky. At the worst times? It bordered on violence, on her part. She was smart though, Rogue never struck him anyplace that couldn’t be hidden by clothing. Remy had taken her abuse, her insults all of it because he did love her, he just couldn’t help her with her own personal darkness.



His ex however was the least of his worries or concerns, Sinister was. After weeks, not months of torture, being given the Sabertooth as a toy to keep the feral mutant in check and all the medical “experiments” the Cajun had simply given up hope. After all why would the X-men come save a traitor? Then again they probably assumed he was dead from the moment they left. One red on black eye cracked open as the door to his cell opened on noisy hinges. Harpoon came in and dropped a plate of food in front of him, some of the contents spilling onto the floor. Remy closed his eye and turned his head.



“Fine, ignore the food. Sinister will simply force feed you.” The Marauder turned on his heel and left without another word.



Remy’s stomach growled loudly, he was hungry, but he’d rather starve and hop for the sweet embrace of death. Sinister of course would never allow that. The last time Remy had been in his “care” and had refused to eat, Sinister had simply strapped him to a table and put in a feeding tube. His freakish desires to create the strongest mutants would not be derailed by a simple hunger strike.



“Mon fils ya can’ give up. Der is always light in de dark.”



“Non, pere. Remy has already given up.” He still rolled over and dragged the plate closer so he could eat. No one was going to come save him. Remy would be here until he either escaped on his own or Sinister grew tired of him again. There was no guarantee, however that he would get out alive when it came to the second scenario.



After all, God didn’t care about the devil child. Never had.