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Rising of Surrender	By : SisterWine Category: X-men Comics > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1362 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The X-Men and Jean-Luc LeBeau are properties of Marvel Comics. I make no claim to them nor do I earn any money for their use. This fiction is strictly for entertainment. I do not buy, sell, or steal. THIS IS FICTION. No harm intended.

Chapter List
- 1-Rising of Surrender
- 2-Chapter 2
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- 2
When Remy opened his eyes, the sun was brightly shining into the room, nearly hitting his face with a stray beam. Once again, he was lying on his back, with his head turned towards the door. Once again, he was clean and his wounds were dressed in clean wrappings. His cracked lips hurt as he parted them and ran his barely damp tongue along them for moisture. Forcing himself up to balance on his hands, that were placed behind him, Remy took a deep breath, or as deep as his pained lungs would allow, and gingerly swung his legs over the side of the bed that faced the window.

As he tried to stand up, Remy only ended up falling back, onto the mattress, as Logan opened the door and stepped in. "Zut."

"Goin somewhere?" Logan's voice was calm but loud and startling to Remy's waking ears. He had brought another tray for lunch, as Remy had slept through breakfast and nearly lunch.

Remy's head swam with dizziness as it hit the mattress on his second landing. He groaned and managed to push himself up to a reclining position before giving up. "Have ta go to de bathroom. Den, I wanna know where my parents are."

Logan closed his eyes and sighed as he shook his head, softly. Placing the tray on the chair beside the bed, he turned and scooped up a water pitcher from the floor, behind the door to the room. He noted Remy's disgusted expression as the weak, young man grabbed at the jug. "I can't carry you downstairs, out to the outhouse, and help you with your trousers and then get you back here, before the rain comes." He nodded to the window as Remy stared at him with a confused look. "B'sides, you ain't pissed all night, just drank three whole pitchers of water like it was goin' out of style. I don't think we'd make it to the stairs."

Thinking about his odds as the once sunny day was quickly being overrun with gray clouds, Remy gave in and used the pitcher, as standing up was becoming a task he wasn't looking forward to again, just yet. He sat there, on the side of the bed, until he was finished. Placing the full makeshift bedpan on the floor, he fixed his clothing and stared out the window, in half shame, as he demanded to know where his parents were.

Heavy footfalls came closer to Remy as Logan made his way around the bed and helped Remy to his feet. Placing an arm around his own shoulders so that Remy could use Logan for support, he walked the young Cajun over to the window and swept the lace curtain aside. "Down there." Logan pointed to where Remy's eyes had already made contact.

"Take me dere."

Logan swallowed dryly. "I don't think--"

"Now! I want to see mah family." Remy's harsh tone managed to choke out the hurt and realisation that his family was gone.

Biting his tongue, Logan nodded and helped Remy out of the room and down the stairs to the rear door, in the kitchen. Logan made sure he went as slow as possible so that Remy could keep up with less pain but, every time Remy groaned and stifled a cry of pain, Logan would slow down even more. "Take yer time."

Remy groaned again. Sweat beaded on his brow as he stepped down onto the midway landing. "Keep goin."

Finally making it to the bottom of the stairs, Logan paused for a moment to let Remy catch his breath. As Remy kept struggling to breathe, Logan thought it best to try and desuade Remy one more time before they made it out of the kitchen. "Listen, Cajun, maybe you'd better take a break b'fore yer lyin beside them?"

Stopping his strained steps, Remy turned to stare Logan down for his suggestion. "I ain't seen dem in four years, been in dat horrible place for two an' a half wit' no mail, den, I come home to find a Yankee here an' mah parents are dead. Tired o' waitin! I'm goin ta see dem, even if I have ta crawl dere." The glare in his eyes told Logan he meant business but, the tremble in his legs told himself that he was scared shitless and hoped that Logan wouldn't retaliate. After a minute, he hung his head and added quietly, "ain't got no one else, boss."

"I ain't yer--, aw, Hell." Logan was tired of fighting this battle with Remy. Scooping the lanky Cajun's legs up, into his arms, he carried the now stunned Confederate soldier out to where Logan had buried the man and woman he happened upon, some months prior.

Remy had almost leapt out of the man's arms as they neared the makeshift cemetary, all the while his head screamed at him that it was a Yankee trick and that he was possibly next in line to be buried, depending on when he let down his guard around Logan, again. He fell to his knees in front of his father's grave, on his left, and grabbed fistfuls of dirt in each hand. His breath caught and he found his head spinning from the reality of the two graves. All at once, Remy felt his soul clench and release an agonising outburst of tears as he turned to touch his mother's wooden cross. Crumpling over and heaving his tears onto the dry, hot dirt, Remy paid no attention to the man who was patiently waiting and watching from a few feet away.

Logan cleared his throat and spoke up, thinking his explanation might help Remy's grieving. "They were already dead when I passed through. I made some boxes out of the boards from the shed. Wasn't sure of their names so, Mr. and Mrs. LeBeau was all I could put. Yer brother and I had a uh, small chat before he left for better climates an' he told me you might be comin' back soon. So, I waited."

The rain started spitting down and darkening the ground as Remy curled over his mother's grave and slowly lost consciousness from taking it all in. He had worked himself up from demanding to get out of bed and see the graves, not eating like he should have, and pushing his injuries to the limit to get to them.

Sighing and going over to retrieve the sleeping young man, Logan heard a small whimper of sadness as Remy lay his head on Logan's shoulder. "I know, kid. It was too soon. I tried to tell you but, just didn't know how. Sorry, Cajun."

~~~~

Remy slept for the rest of the day and most of the evening. His eyes hurt from the tears that fell from them. With each stomach growl, his head would pound in unison. It hurt to move but he forced himself to sit up and look about the darkened room. The oil lamp, on the table, at the far end of the room, was lit but dim and the rain had stopped, letting in the broken moonlight. From the oil lamp to the chair beside the bed, he found it empty of the tray that Logan had always placed there before he woke up, at night.

The house was quiet except for the small creeks and groans of the wind that filtered through in random, uncovered spots. Remy wondered what the rest of the house looked like, now that his parents were gone. He wondered where Logan busied himself when he wasn't in the room with Remy. That question pressed the further question of why Logan stayed in his house, in the first place.

Bending over to place his hands on the floor, Remy pulled himself to his knees and crawled across the wood flooring to the door. Remy placed a hand on the wall, next to the door, and pushed himself up to turn the knob on the door. As the door creaked open, he peeked out from the tiny crack he had made. The hallway was empty of Logan and in further opening the door, his ears hadn't picked up on the other man. His arm collapsed against him from the strain of holding his body weight and he slammed against the wall beside the door. The sound alerted the other man in a room down the hall and Remy's eyes widened as a door Remy identified as his brother's bedroom, opened and light poured into the darkness before Logan started down the hall to where Remy was.

As Logan came closer to the door, Remy scrambled backward to get away but found he couldn't move very fast. Flipping around to face the window, he crawled over to the bed but was stopped and lifted up, from behind. He screamed and struggled to get away but Logan's grip was too strong so, Remy was only tiring himself rather than getting away. "Let go! Lemme go!"

"Stop strugglin' an' I'll set ya down on the bed. STOP!" Logan screamed over Remy's struggles and then all went still. He sighed and helped Remy onto the bed, helping him to sit up and face Logan. "Now, what was that all about?"

Remy shrugged but didn't meet Logan's eyes.

Another sigh and Logan stood up to leave. "Have it your way, Cajun. Get some rest and we'll get you some exercise, tomorrow."

Remy sighed as Logan turned around to go. "Why are you in my house?"

"What d'ya mean?" Logan stopped but didn't turn around.

Eyes still averted, Remy reiterated, "You said you stay 'cause you wait for me but, I'm here now. So, why ya stay?"

The house went eerily quiet as Logan weighed his answer. From the talk he had with Remy's brother, he was almost certain that Remy would find it objectionable that the deed to the house was signed over to Logan, in case Remy came back in a box. "I uh, have had a long talk with yer brother and he was hoping that this part would not have to be done the way it is but, seeing as how--"

"Just answer me." Remy was starting to grow impatient at Logan's lack of direction. Glaring over his shoulder at the smaller man, he growled as Logan took a another full minute to answer him.

Logan cleared his throat and took a breath before just coming out and saying it. "The house is mine, now. Yer brother signed over the deed before he left." An icy shiver raced down his spine as Remy turned fully to stare at him and narrow his gaze with glowing red eyes at the answer. Logan hadn't let on that he had thought it completely wrong to tell Remy that way but Remy hadn't made it any easier to address by forcing him.

Remy seethed with anger that his house now belonged to a Yankee and there was nothing he could do to state otherwise. He had lost his freedom when he entered the gates of Camp Douglas, only to find out that the South had lost their rights as a "secessing country in the making," and now it seemed he had lost his family's land. His family owned no slaves but the house, alone, was a crushing blow to his own ego. "You expect me ta believe dat? A Yankee ownin' mah house?"

The verbal slap in the face hit Logan fairly hard but he regained his composure before it could be played on his face and sneered back, "yep. Get used to it." Spinning around to exit the room before Remy's retort could be heard, Logan walked casually back to his room, hearing Remy crawl along the floor, behind him, to finish the conversation. He stopped as he reached his bedroom door and turned to see Remy crawling a few strides behind him. "This ain't necessary, Cajun. Get back in bed 'fore you hurt yerself."

"Non." Placing a firm hand on the wall to his left, Remy forced himself to stand up and take a step closer to Logan, growling his disapproval. "Dis here is mah house an' I ain't gonna let you take it from me. Fer 50 years de LeBeaus been livin' here, an' I won't let a 'Yankee' scoop in an' take it from us." His eyes glowed with hatred but his expression hid the hope that Logan wouldn't want it and give it back to him.

Sighing again, Logan evened his gaze and ran a hand through his black hair. "I'm not answerin what I'm gonna do with the house, just yet. But, I reckon you need to get yer strength back before I make that decision. The prisoner life seems to have taken the better of ya so, we'll deal with this later. Get back to bed, if you can make it."

"Non! We finish dis now, Yankee!" Leaning forward to take a swing at Logan, Remy lost his balance and collapsed squarely into the arms of the man he meant to strike.

Continued.
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Rising of Surrender