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Our Little Family	By : SpencerRemyLvr Category: X-men Comics > Crossovers Views: 2000 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds nor its characters. I do not own XMen/Marvel or its characters. I am not making money from this writing

Chapter List
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How long it took before he could finally control his sobs enough to breathe normally again, Spencer had no idea. Remy weathered the storm with him, holding him close and trying to make soothing sounds. One hand held Spencer's head close to him while the other was curled protectively over his belly, gently rubbing at the side of it. Eventually, the terror and pain lessened enough that Spencer could actually hear his words. “Sh, sh, mon amour, it’s gonna be okay. Y’r okay. I’m right here and I got y’. Sh, Cher. Aint gonna let not’ing else happen to y’. Je t’aime, mon cœur. Je t’aime.”
Air shuddered in and out of Spencer's chest. He clung just a little bit tighter to Remy. “We need to get out of here.” His words were hoarse, his throat sore from crying. “We need to go home.”
“Je sais. But we’re safe right now.” Now that Remy knew Spencer was, well, coherent once more, he turned his attention to the important things. “Spencer, are y’ hurt? Did he hurt y’ or de lil ones?”
The thought of the babies being hurt was almost enough to bring back Spencer's hysteria. He brought one hand down, leaving the other around Remy, and pressed it against his stomach. The boys were kicking as if in response to his stress; enough so that it hurt. “They seem okay. Overactive, but okay.” And oh, God, that was the biggest relief. A few more tears slid out at the thought of what might’ve happened.
Remy’s hands tightened just a little bit, but Spencer felt the flare of relief. They both knew that movement was good. Of course, he was going to have to get a full physical just to make sure everything was fine, but movement was a good thing. If they had stopped moving, then it would’ve been cause for concern. Remy’s relief faded away abruptly when he realized Spencer hadn’t answered the first part of his question, though. The hand he had on Spencer's head moved enough to thread in his hair and tip his face upwards. Spencer winced, knowing what was coming. He wasn’t disappointed. When his face was finally up, he saw the fury that snapped into Remy’s eyes and the way his whole face went tight as he took in the bruising and blood on Spencer's cheek. Getting hit by the gun had not only bruised his cheek, but split the skin a little on his cheekbone. Cajun curses slid past Remy’s lips. He reached down into his coat, pulling out a handkerchief that he then pressed to Spencer's cheek. “I oughta go back dere and bash him in de face and let him see how he likes it. Merde, I oughta do a whole lot more dan dat.”
“What about you?” Spencer interrupted. He lifted his hand, brushing fingertips over Remy’s cheek. “He hit you pretty hard. Are you okay?”
“Pft.” That sound was full of derision and disgust, as if the very idea of William hurting him was offensive. “Been hit worse dan dat by Wolvie in training sessions. Aint me I’m worried bout here, Cher. Worried about y’. Aint gonna feel better till Henri looks at y’, neither. Now, tell me what happened, Spencer. Need to know.”
Spencer spoke in a halting voice, his words hitching slightly here and there as he walked Remy through everything that had happened while he’d been out. When he was done, tears were slipping down his cheeks again. Remy bent in, pressing their foreheads together and sighing. They said nothing for a moment, only sharing love back and forth. After a second, he shifted Spencer slightly so he could reach down into another pocket and pull out his phone at the same time as gathering his composure. The look on his face was serious; it was his ‘work face’, as Spencer described it. Calm, collected. Even his emotions had settled down to a steadiness that Spencer knew belied the fury and fear that would be simmering underneath. Remy opened his phone and started scrolling contacts. Spencer just sat there and watched, his one hand still rubbing over his stomach to try and soothe the furious kicking in there. He watched as Remy found the number he wanted and hit send before putting the phone up to his ear.
It only took a second for someone to answer. “Hello?”
“Scotty, need y’ to come get us.” Remy wasted no time in saying. He didn’t give Scott a chance to say anything before he launched into a shortened summary of what had happened. He wrapped it up by saying “Got us parked someplace safe f’ now. Aint dumb enough to go back to de hotel, me.”
“Stay low and stay safe. Spencer would be easy to spot and report back to people. I’m grabbing a team now and we’ll be on the jet and out of here in no more than ten minutes.”
“Merci. We’re safe enough here. Just hurry, Fearless.”
When Remy got done with his phone call, he turned his attention back to Spencer's face. A few dabs with the handkerchief and he sighed. “It aint bleeding no more, but it’s gonna hurt f’ a while. Je suis désolé, Spencer.”
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” Spencer insisted.
“Non. Remy shoulda protected y’ better’n dat. Shouldn’t have let de homme get de drop on me dat way. Should never have let him hurt y’.” Gentle fingers ghosted over the aching spot on Spencer's cheek. Remy’s eyes were wide and aching and the guilt he felt brought back some of Spencer's tears.
The young genius reached up, taking Remy’s hand and lacing their fingers together. He lifted his chin and locked their eyes together, wanting Remy to see and hear and feel what he was about to say so that he could know the truth of it. “This wasn’t your fault, honey. Neither one of us had any idea that he would ever do something like this. It was not something we could have prepared for. And when it came down to it, you protected us. All of us. Just like I knew you would.”
“Mais…”
“But nothing, honey. You saved us. When he had me put the ties on, I knew you’d break free once you woke up. I have met nothing so far that your talented hands can’t find some way to break free from.” That was said with a teasing tone that brought a tiny smile to Remy’s lips, exactly as Spencer had wanted. Lifting his head a little, he brushed a kiss over Remy’s lips. “Neither one of us could have predicted that, but you saved us and you got us out of there. Thank you. Thank you so very much.”
Some of that aching look faded off of Remy’s face. He bent down, giving Spencer another kiss. “Je t’aime.”
“I love you too.” Curling back in, Spencer held their laced hands closed to his heart.

The arrival of their friends went almost exactly as Spencer had known it would. They called to let them know of their arrival and where to go and Remy drove the car to them. Almost the instant they were there, Spencer found himself bundled into the Blackbird and then he was getting a basic exam from Hank while Logan, Remy and Bobby all went to the hotel to gather Spencer and Remy’s things and check them out. Scott hovered nearby while Hank took Spencer's vitals and then checked him over as best as he could manage in the back of a jet. He asked him about any pain and a ton of different questions about the babies, all of which Spencer answered as best as he could.
By the time the others came back, Spencer was declared as fit as Hank could find for now—though he promised more testing and a more thorough exam upon arrival at home—and now it was Remy’s turn. Everyone loaded in and Scott started them for home while Hank took time to look at Remy’s head and finally bandage it up, firmly telling him he was lucky he didn’t need stitches for it.
Spencer, surprisingly enough, found himself drifting on the flight back home. He was woken up by Remy’s hands cupping his face and warm Cajun words being whispered to him. It startled him to realize that they were home.
“C’mon, allée chat. Let’s go let Henri look at y’ one last time and den we’ll get y’ in bed and get y’ somet’ing to eat, oui? Dat sound bon to y’?” Remy murmured. He gently coaxed Spencer up and to his feet and then wrapped an arm around him to lead him into the Med Lab. There, the young genius was subjected to every test Hank could think of, it felt like. Spencer honestly stopped paying much attention after a while. So far everything was coming out positive and he didn’t feel like there was anything wrong except for the ache in his face and in his back and ankles. The first ache was to be expected, seeing as how he’d been hit there, and the last two were sadly becoming common in his days. The boys had even finally calmed their kicking down!
Eventually, though, Hank released them to their room. But not before giving Spencer news that had the man scowling. “Your body has been through a great stress and, though things are checking out well, I do not feel the need to test how well that is. On that note, I am putting you on bed rest for the next week, simply as a precaution.”
“A week of bed rest?” Spencer couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his tone. “Really, Hank, are you kidding me? I was struck in the face and a little stressed out. That’s no reason to confine me to bed for a week!”
Hank calmly waited until Spencer finished before shaking his head at him. “Your body has been put through prolonged stress since this first started with your parents and you first fainted in your office. Now, with these events, I am not willing to take the risk of your body undergoing any further stress. One week, Spencer. If you show all signs of being fine at the end of the week, the restriction will be lifted. Until then, it stands.”
He couldn’t believe it. Oh, sure, he’d known there was a chance he’d end up on bed rest at some point in this pregnancy. The fact that he was a male meant the chance of more complications and some of those complications could be eased by bed rest. Add in that it was a multiples pregnancy and the chance of bed rest increased. Still, this seemed ridiculous! And how was he supposed to entertain himself for a whole week, stuck in bed? It was going to be horrible. He was not one for being idle. Doing nothing did not interest him in the least bit. To make it worse, Hank stood right there in front of him and deliberately turned to Remy to say “I trust he’d ignore this, so I’m making a point to tell you. The only time I want him up and walking is to use the bathroom. I do not want him even standing for a shower. He is to take a bath instead. Most of the time should be spent lying on his side if he is lying down. Otherwise, being slightly elevated in bed is an acceptable choice. Plenty of pillows can help with that. But he is not to be downstairs even for meals. And he is not to work, at all. That means no paperwork, no phone calls. Nothing. This is to be as stress free a week as possible.”
Remy slanted a look at Spencer, barely restraining the wince that tried to slip out. Still, he got it under control quickly and politely said “D’accord, Henri. Don’t worry. Remy’ll make sure dat Spencer listens.”
It was a sign of just how flustered and annoyed Spencer was that he didn’t even call Remy out on his third person speech. He couldn’t believe Hank was putting him on a week of bed rest. A scowling pout built on his face. He didn’t want to spend a whole week stuck in bed. What was he going to do with himself? If no one was going to let him work, that would take away one of the few things that might occupy his time. It wasn’t like Remy was going to be able to sit with him twenty four/seven and entertain him. One, Remy had things to do with his day. Two, they’d both go crazy like that. Maybe he could catch up on some reading; really, though, how long would that last him? Half a day? A day?
A hand cupped his elbow and Remy was murmuring to him again, telling him it was time to go. Spencer took the assistance to slip down off the bed. The ache in his back gave a particularly nasty throb when he stood up and he couldn’t help the wince that came out. Big mistake. Hank was right there in an instant, hands out. “What is it?”
As if he needed to give them anything else to worry them! Spencer's scowl grew a little more. “Just my back, Hank. I’ve had a backache of and on the past few days. Entirely normal, considering the weight I’m supporting in my stomach.”
Hank ignored the biting tone to Spencer's words. “What kind of backache? A steady ache, a throb, a cramping sensation?”
“Just a steady ache mostly. It’s been kind of cramping today and yesterday.” The worried look Hank gave him had him sighing a little. “It’s not any worry. It’s just a backache, Hank. I’ve suffered from natural backaches for years. Trust me, I recognize the feeling.”
“You have? Why do I not have this information in your medical records?”
Hank’s started question made Spencer realize what he’d just admitted to. His scowl faded away underneath a grimace. Dammit, he really needed to watch what he was saying. “It’s nothing, Hank. Really. Just one of those things.” Without shame, Spencer turned to look at Remy, trying to quickly find a way to extract himself from this. “Can we go get settled, now? I find I am rather hungry.” Anything, to get him out of here so he wouldn’t have to answer any more questions. He didn’t want to take the time to explain why he suffered from backaches. Hank already knew minimal information about the burns on his back; Spencer had never fully explained it to the man, or the lasting damage that came from it. It wasn’t like it was debilitating or anything of the like. The doctors had said there had been some trauma to the muscles underneath that, at the time, they had felt had healed well. And they had. The only lasting problem he had was a backache that could come and go if he overworked those muscles.
There was a pulse of sympathy from Remy and then his lover was leading him from the room with promises to Hank that he would get Spencer settled into bed straightaway. Together, the two beat a hasty retreat from the labs, making their way up to their room. They’d just made it to the stairs when they ran into Ororo. The regal woman was on the staircase, having obviously just come from up there. At the sight of them she hurried down, hands already held out to them. “I just returned and received word of what happened. Are you all okay?”
Remy gave her a one armed hug, lightly kissing her cheek. “We’re okay, Stormy. Checked out by Henri and every’ting, yeah. Don’t y’ worry none.”
She turned from him to look to Spencer. “And you? You are okay, Spencer? You do not look happy.”
His scowl had long since faded, replaced by a small pout. “Oh, I’m fine.” The last word dripped with sarcasm. “Absolutely wonderful. I always look this excited at the prospect of a week of bed rest.”
To her credit, Ororo didn’t laugh at the childlike pout or the whine to Spencer's words. Instead, she stepped up to Spencer's other side, slipping one arm around his waist. “We must all follow our good doctor’s orders, even though there are times we may not see the wisdom of those actions ourselves. We must trust in him that he is doing right by us. Bed rest may be a frustrating prospect for you, yet I am sure you will find a way to make the best of it. Come, why don’t we get you settled? Brother, why don’t you go and find something for him to eat while I get Spencer settled into bed?” And just like that, Ororo calmly took over, starting to lead Spencer up the stairs while telling him something about a new plant she’d brought into her greenhouse, leaving Remy staring at them with a bemused look on his face. Once they were out of sight, he finally turned away and made his way to the kitchen.
When he got in there, he found Scott and Jean already in there. Scott was sitting at the bar with a glass of what looked to be iced tea while Jean was at the fridge, pulling out things to make what Remy guessed would be sandwiches. At his entrance, Scott looked up, his attention sharpening when he saw who it was. “Hey! How is he? Hank didn’t want any of us coming in there and overwhelming him.”
“Everyt’ing checked out fine.” Remy said with a smile meant to reassure them. “Henri’s a lil worried bout his stress levels though, so he’s put Spencer on bed rest f’ de next week. Was just getting him to de room when Stormy caught me on de stairs and took over. ‘m under orders to get Spencer somet’ing to eat while she settles him in.”
Jean turned from the fridge and set down the lunchmeat in her hands before gesturing towards where Scott was sitting. “Have a seat, Remy. I’ll make him something.”
“Non, merci. Rather stand, me.” He doubted he could be still enough to sit right now. He stuffed his hands down into his pockets and fought the urge to start pacing. Underneath the smiling mask he wore, temper was brewing in him until he felt like he’d explode from it. He was fighting as hard as he could to control it before it he got back around Spencer. The last thing the man needed was something to stress him out even more. Not after the day he’d had. Damn that bastard for doing this. Damn him for daring to try to do something so, so, horrendous. How could he? No matter how many times he encountered it, Remy could never understand how someone could justify selling another human being.
Scott interrupted his thoughts, his voice low and careful. “And how about you? How’re you doing?” In that question was honest concern that Remy could feel just as well as he could hear. For anyone else, he might’ve just brushed it off. He might’ve put a little more effort into his smile and reassured them that he was fine, just as he always was. He might’ve even made some joke to distract them and to make them laugh. This wasn’t just anyone, though. Scott was watching him steadily, honestly wanting to know how he was doing, and even though Remy opened his mouth to reassure the man that he was fine, something else entirely came out. “Remy wants to go kill de homme.” That admission seemed to open the floodgates and Remy couldn’t keep the words back. His eyes slammed shut and his hands balled into fists in his pockets, his whole body going tense. “He was gonna sell our boys, Scotty. Sell dem. Like dey’re not’ing more dan animals t’ him! He did all dis, fucked with Spencer's mere, put him t’rough all dat stress, just to trick Spencer out dere so he could pass him off to dese connards dat wanted to buy mes enfants! So how de fuck do y’ t’ink Remy is, Scotty? Huh?”
The obvious pain, the raw and exposed agony that seemed so unlike their cocky Cajun, had Jean stopping what she was doing and staring at him achingly. She started to say Remy’s name, needing to do something to relieve the pain, when Scott gave her a small shake of his head. She caught his thoughts, his gentle //Leave this to me, honey// and she kept quiet, trusting that he knew what he was doing.
Scott leaned back a little in his chair, turning fully to face his friend. “I think you’re pissed.” He answered him. “I think you’re pissed and terrified and I think that you have every right to feel that way after having such a hellish morning.”
“Wanna go back dere, Scotty.” Opening his eyes, Remy looked at his boss, his friend, and fought to control the quiver of anger that ran down him. “Wanna go back dere and demand he tell Remy who de hell his buyer was. Wanna go hunting and take down anyone dat t’inks dey can touch m’ man or mes enfants.”
“We’ll find them.” Those words were said with such confidence, such strength, it was almost easy to believe. “We’ll go hunting and we’ll find out who’s behind this. And trust me, we’ll do whatever we need to so we can stop it. No one touches family.” At Remy’s surprised look, Scott flashed a sharp grin. “I told you, I’m acting as honorary uncle with these kids. You think I won’t protect my nephews? I’ve already started putting out feelers to see what the word on the street is. Logan’s left as soon as we got back to go talk to some people in town that might be able to get us answers. For now, you just leave this to me.”
While Remy stood there staring at him with surprise, Scott rose from his chair and reached over, taking the tray that Jean had just finished putting together. He carried it over and held it out to Remy. “Right now, you focus on you and Spencer and those boys. Take this up there, make sure he eats, and focus on you guys right now. Trust that your family has your back. We’ll figure out who’s behind this, Remy. You two aren’t in this fight alone.”
Words dried up in Remy’s throat. His hands closed over the edge of the tray and he looked at Scott, trying to swallow the lump that suddenly built in his throat. “Merci.” The word was a little choked, thick with emotion that he didn’t typically show. “Merci, Scotty.”
The man grinned at him and reached out, copying a move he’d picked up from Spencer and had taken to doing when he wanted to irk Remy a little. He tugged on a bit of his hair, just to be obnoxious. “I told you, family takes care of their own.”
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Our Little Family