Subject: Family Matters, 4 (M/F, cons, sorta, sex, fantasy)
From: DSWDiane@GNN.com (Diane)
Date: 1996/08/10

Family Matters, Chapter 4

Please see the disclaimer attached to chapter 1. Once again grateful acknowledgements are due to Dr. John, sting, Idgy, and Vashti without whose support and help I could not keep up the work on this novel I seem to be writing.


* * *

Logan was drinking a beer in the kitchen when Ro got back downstairs. "How's the boy?" he asked as she started to clean up the after the meal she had made for Remy. He put the beer down and moved over to help her.

"He's not happy," Ro handed him the egg pan which he started to wash as she wiped the counters. "You don't have to help with this."

"No, but it makes a good excuse to spend time with you. How unhappy?"

"He's tormenting himself with guilt and shame. Wouldn't even look me in the face."

"Stupid. Why would anyone deprive themselves of your face?"

"Logan," she twirled up the dishtowel and flicked it at him. He caught it easily and used it to pull her into his arms. He was planting a quick kiss on her lips when Beast walked in and stared at them.

"Oh my stars and garters," he said with wonder. Logan grinned at him, and then looked at Ro.

"Made any phone calls, darlin'? he asked. "How's it hanging, Hank?"

"As soon as I finish this kitchen," she pulled herself out of his arms with a blush rising on her light brown skin.

"I'm fine, Wolverine. And how is our newly discovered telepath and explosive Cajun?"

"Ro was just telling me that he ain't a happy camper."

"I think he feels like a caged and wounded animal," Ro said. "And I think it would do him a world of good to get into the danger room and work out."

"Especially if I gave him another opportunity to bang me over the head with that bo of his, like he did the time he tricked me in there," Logan grinned.

"He tricked you?" Hank asked incredulously.

"He'd reprogrammed the computer to insert Yuriko, ye olde Lady Deathstrike, into the sequence while he and I were sparring. I got distracted, and he managed to sneak up and whack the hell out of me. He actually got me down and got that bo into my face. Said 'Bang, you dead.'" Logan neglected to tell them about his deeply battered and exhausted condition at the time.

"The boy seems to have a gift for computers," Beast said thoughtfully. "He's been helping me with my research since that day that he and Bishop managed to wreck my lab. I wonder. But I don't think it would be a good idea to let him work out."

"Why not?" Ororo asked.

"He uses action to avoid his feelings. A combination of sublimation and acting out."

"Which means, in English?" Logan asked.

"Acting out is the expression of emotions by doing exactly that, acting it out. He acts out his anger by fighting. Acts out the pain and guilt by getting himself hurt which he manages to do more than many of us. Acting out is a fairly primitive and immature defense. Sublimation is the channeling of unacceptable emotion into constructive action. It's a fairly mature and healthy defense."

"Defense?" Storm asked.

"Defenses of the ego against the repressed ego dystonic urges of the id," Logan answered and grinned hugely at the amazed looks of the other two. "I have read a few books in my time, boys and girls."

"I believe that the correct appellation would be boy and girl. There are only one of each of us in this room. And why did you ask me if you already knew?" Hank asked with a faint grin on his face.

"You sure there's only one each of each of you, Hank? Near as I can tell there's at least twenty of me. And I've met several different Storms. Met an entirely new one just last night." Storm gave him an affectionate glare. "And I didn't memorize the material, just read about it."

"Ego dystonic?" Storm queried. Logan handed the question to Hank with a gesture.

"Ego dystonic refers to feelings and urges that are not compatible with our own self image. Ego syntonic are those which are. The basic idea is that. . ."

"'Cuse me. I'm outta here. See, Ro, told you Hank was the chatterbox, not me." Logan left the kitchen, then stuck his head back in. "You make that call, woman."

"I will, I will." She finished the kitchen and turned back to Hank. "So you're saying that if Remy is forced to stay in his room, he will have to deal with his feelings."

"Essentially, but. . . "

Logan was back in, again. "Hank, did Rogue come to you this morning for an exam?"

Hank stared at him again with surprise. Was there anything he didn't know about what went on in the mansion? "I think that's a violation of her confidence, Logan," he began.

"Don't care what she told you or what you found out. Just wanted to know if she came to see you."


"Good." Logan was gone.

Hank looked back at Ororo who was shaking with repressed laughter. "Hank, my dear, I have to get on with my day," she said.

"And I have an idea I wish to discuss with the professor."

* * *

The knock at Remy's door came as he was leaning out the window, sneaking a smoke, and yearning to be out in the sunlight. He hastily stubbed out the butt and put it in the pocket of his jeans.

"C'm in," he directed feeling a clutch of tension in his guts. Beast pushed the door open and walked in with a cart full of computer equipment.

"Just talked to the professor. He thought it would be a excellent idea if you continued to help me with my research while you're stuck up here. So I'm going to install a terminal here in your room for you, if you're interested. Are you?"

"Mon Dieu, oui," Remy said gratefully.

"Thought you might be pleased to have something to do. Why don't you clear your desk?" Hank began to unload the moniter and keyboard. They worked together for several hours, mutually annoyed and busy with the eccentricities of the installation of equipment and software.

Hank glanced at the greasy stains and dent in Remy's wall. "Did you have a problem in here, Gambit?"

Remy flushed. "I dropped my breakf'st tray," he said lamely.

"Mmmm, really? I guess it bounced up and dented your wall."

Remy sighed and decided to confess. "No, not r'lly. I t'rew it."

"Ahh. Would you be interested in me bringing you some 409 to get those greasy spots?"

"Pl'se." Remy looked away from him.

Hank put a gentle hand on his arm. "Gambit, I don't care what you did before you joined us. You've done much for the X-men. As far as I'm concerned, the slate is clean."

Remy again took a deep breath. "T'anks, Hank. I 'preciate dat comin' from you. You musta been horr'fied at da t'ings I done."

"Not really. Remy, you were hardly more than a child and a very battered and neglected child. But could I, please, ask what you were remembering as you were screaming on the floor?" Remy told him.

"So, you are the professor's son?"

Remy nodded expecting Hank to be aghast at such dreadful behavior from the son of Charles Xavier.

"Well, that certainly explains from where you got your intelligence. Your father must be very proud of you."

Remy froze. Trust Hank to shock him silly. He felt something deep in his guts, but he wasn't sure what it was. "How cou'd he possi'ly be proud of me?" he asked.

"Well, you're bright as I just remarked. You never hesitate to protect and rescue the victims of dastardly villians, and you seem always to be striving to better yourself as a person. I like you, Gambit. Can you not tell?"

Remy felt tears beginning to well again. He turned away and stared back out the window. "T'anks, I know I don' deserve it" he murmured.

Beast snorted. "Remy, if you keep thinking the way you seem to be thinking, you're going to accomplish nothing except making yourself miserable which is indeed one of your major talents. Why not give yourself the benefit of a doubt?"

"I already pr'tty mis'able, Hank. Don' seem like I have t' work at it at'll. So, why not we j'st get back t' dis work we tryin' t' do, heh?" Remy turned and grinned at him. "Ain' much poin' in me makin' ever'one 'round me as mis'able as me."

Hank laughed. He and Remy went back to their work.

* * *

"LOGAN? You are involved with Wolverine? Ororo, have you lost your mind?" Forge was more upset than he would have believed possible.

Storm felt a deep surge of anger as she looked at the face of her former lover on the viewer screen.

"He's a wonderful man. I have known him longer than I've known you, Maker. And you have made it clear to me that you don't want me, unless I am willing to give up my life and the X-men for you."

Forge took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He failed. "I cannot accept this," he said firmly. His voice was tight with pain.

"That's too bad. You asked me to marry you and then you chose to withdraw the offer, as I hope you remember. I was prepared to say, yes, and you chose to break my heart. I'm not willing to keep waiting around for you to decide you might want me. I'm moving on. Why don't you do the same? I'm sure Raven would be willing to help." Ororo couldn't quite keep the bitter anger out of her voice.

Forge took a deep breath and looked at the woman he had tried to love. Her face was filled with angry pain and firm resolution. "Mystique had nothing to do with me and you," he said.

"No? Didn't Irene tell you that you and she would end up together?"

"Destiny didn't know everything."

"Everything she predicted so far has been the truth. She was a precog. She knew what would happen. And she saw you and Raven together. Not you and me."

"But, Logan? Ro, what are you thinking of? He's. . . "

Ororo cut him off. "He's a wonderful, delightful, fascinating man. He and I have fought side by side for years, and he has never let me down. Not once. Not ever. And he has never expected me to be anyone but who I am. As you have done. Maker, I loved you. But love dies when confronted with relentless criticism and withdrawal. I am one hell of a woman. Where were you when I needed you?"

Forge felt a sinking feeling in his guts. He didn't know quite what to say.

"You hurt me bad," Storm informed him. "I don't need it. I don't need you. I'm moving on." Forge did not know what to say. He hesitated long, waiting for words that did not come.

Ro waited patiently for several minutes and then put her fingers to the disconnect button. "Are we through?" she asked.

"No, I don't think so," he said.

"So, what do you want?"

"I don't know." His face was full of pain.

"When you figure it out, give me a call."

Ro disconnected, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction.

"So, your lover is not so interested in you these days?" Mystique stood in the doorway of Forge's room. She leaned provocatively against the doorframe.

"How long you been there, Raven?" Forge shock was rapidly changing to boiling anger.

"Long enough to hear most of that conversation. Logan is one hell of a man. Tried to seduce him one time myself. I went to Harry's bar in the shape of the type of woman to whom I thought he might be attracted. Even managed to get him back to my motel room. But he knew my scent. Wasn't able to fool him. I was in trouble and I couldn't think of anyone else to ask for help. And he helped me. But I couldn't get him into bed. I think it could have been fun."

"I do not. Want. To hear. Another word. About Logan," Forge's voice was cold with fury.

Raven laughed in his face. "Jealous, are you? That every woman who matters to you is attracted to Wolverine?"

Forge sat silently in front of the blank screen and ignored the shape shifter. She came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm really sorry. I don't want you to feel hurt," she said quietly.

Forge took a deep breath and without thinking put his hand up to her's. "I did love her," he said in a low voice.


"And I still do."

"So why did you do what you did, Maker? Why did you withdraw the proposal to her? Did you, maybe, want me more than you were willing to admit?"

He pulled her hand down hard against his chest and her tightly toward him. She sighed and pressed her body against his back.

"I don't know, Raven," he said. "But I want you here now."

* * *

Storm searched through the mansion until she found Wolvie. He was playing in the danger room. Sweating in combat against the progams in the room. Working out hard. She asked the computer to stop, and went in.

Logan was drenched and gasping from the level of simulation he had commanded. "What do you want, darlin'?" he asked, his chest heaving.

"I told the Maker that we were through. Told him I was with you, now."

"Did I give you permission to mention me?" A flicker of annoyance crossed his face.


Logan looked at her. "What did you tell him?"

She told him every detail of their conversation. His expression was not happy.

"You weren't very nice to him, were you?" Logan asked.

"Not very." She tried a weak and hopeful smile.

"I think you and I need a serious discussion in your loft."

Ororo felt a serious throbbing in her vagina. It hurt with need and desire. "Now?" she asked, shuddering with delicious dread.

Logan wiped the sweat from his face. "Now," he ordered.

"Are you going to spank me again?" Ro swallowed hard.

"Darlin', I want you to go up to your loft. I want you to take your pants and panties down off your bottom. I want you to stand yourself in the corner and wait for me. I'm going to give you the spanking of your life."

Ro felt turned on beyond belief. She sighed deeply. "I'll be waiting for you, Logan. What will you be doing?"

"Takin' a shower, sweet love. You get that bare butt into that corner. NOW."

* * *

Storm wandered out of the basement to start her long trek up to her loft. She was in a dreamy haze of erotic bemusement, barely noticing the members of the family that she passed. They stared at her with some puzzlement.

"ORORO!" An exasperated Scott got her attention. He stood about two feet from her shaking his head. It was the third time he had called her name.

She tried to snap out of her reverie and partially succeeded. "What is it?" she asked, urgently aware of her need to get to her loft.

"You and I need to meet today and plan the team activities for the week. How about now?"

"Now?" Ro's eyes widened as she shook her head. "No, I have other plans right now. I'll meet you in. . . How about right after supper?"

"What on earth are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?"

Storm looked at him. "I have something very important to discuss with Logan."

Scott looked even more exasperated. "Is this about Gambit?"

"Not really," Storm's eyes suddenly sparkled with humor. "Actually it's none of your business what it is about. But speaking of Remy, have you talked to him yet?"

Scott looked away. Remy's wild recklessness had always disturbed him and he had never been sure that he could trust him. The connection to Sinister had disturbed him deeply.

"Scott, I understand your hesitation. May I suggest you talk to the professor and learn more about the situation before you speak to Remy. If you aren't ready to forgive him, it would only do more harm than good. He's very unhappy and ashamed."

"Well, maybe he should be," Scott said grimly.

"Maybe he well should be, but how much do you think he needs to be punished by us and by himself before he can move on?"

"I don't think I know the answer to that one, Ro."

"Have you even considered that he put himself into this situation simply to help us discover the identity of the traitor. He risked losing everything and everyone important to him to protect us. And he really thought he would lose us all. Does that not count for something?"

"You have a point, Ro, and a damn good one. I'll go talk to the professor."

Ororo watch Scott walk away and then hurried to her loft. She once again allowed her eyes to glaze and her breathing to slow as delicious tingles started radiating from her crotch.

* * *

When she walked in, Logan stood leaning against the wall with a serious look of disapproval on his face and the paddle from the study in his hand. Ro's eyes widened.

"That was a quick shower," she gulped.

"Yep, and you are not where I told you to be, girl. You are in trouble."

"Scott stopped me in the hall."

"I don't particularly want to hear excuses, darlin.' I want you in the corner now."

Ro felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Was he really angry or was he playing? She wasn't sure she even really wanted to know. She went to the corner.

"Put your nose to the wall and take down those pants."

She bent over slightly to obey and unfastened the ties of her draw string pants. They slid easily off her behind and down her legs to puddle on the floor. She attempted a little provocative wiggle of her bottom.

Logan moved over to her and gave her a fiercely stinging blow with the paddle right in the middle of her pantied butt.

"Don't play right now, Ororo," he warned. "You are being punished. For using me to make Forge feel even worse than he would have anyway about losing you. For being rude and nasty to him instead of letting him down gently. And for not doing what you were told to do. Get those panties down." He raised the paddle high and smacked her again.

Ro felt tears sting in her eyes. This did not sound good. And she did start to be aware of guilty stirrings in her guts. She thought of the stricken look in Forge's eyes. Her hands went to the waistband of her panties and she pulled them down off her bottom leaving it bare and vulnerable.

"Bend over more, Ro, and arch your back a little. I want that naughty butt of yours on serious display." Logan patted her bottom as she did as she was told, feeling a hot flush of embarassment. He put his hand between her legs and fingered her very wet puss. She rocked against his finger and moaned. He gave her another fierce whack with the paddle.

"YOWWW," she cried out. It hurt.

"This is barely a beginning warm up, darlin.' You ain't gonna enjoy sittin any time soon at all. But first you're going to have your corner time. Do not move." Logan moved away from her, with his usual catlike quietness. She had no idea where he was in the room and she didn't dare to turn her head and look. She kept her nose to the corner and her bottom obscenely displayed. It tingled both from the three burning spanks he had given her and from her anticipation of the paddling to come. She continued to think about her uncharacteristically impulsive and angry call to Forge, his hurt and confusion, and the real irritation in Logan's voice. Tears spilled over and started to run down her face. Within a few minutes, she started to sob. She cried helplessly for several more minutes, feeling more and more lost and guilty.

Logan was back at her side. He put a firm and possessive hand on her bottom. "You thinkin' 'bout what a bad girl you been?" he asked quietly. She nodded still sobbing.

"You 'bout ready for your first spanking?"

She nodded again as an icy stab of fear shot through her gut. First spanking? Dear God, how many was he planning?

He bent her over under his left arm braced firmly against his hip. She gasped as he reached his arm across her belly and clamped his hand firmly between her legs with one finger inside her.

He pulled her up to her toes as her head dangled toward the floor. Blood rushed to her face in this undignified position and she arched her bottom in anticipation of what was to come. She felt terrified, ashamed, and aflame.

Her sobs had stopped as she held her breath and waited. Then the paddle slammed furiously into her butt and before she finished her gasp of pain had descended again and again.

This was obviously going to be a fast, serious, and painful spanking. As the pain in her behind built and intensified, she began to struggle frantically unable to stop herself from trying to escape. Logan's strong arm around her waist and across her belly and his hand between her legs had her quite effectively trapped. She grew wetter and wetter and his hand slid deliciously as she wiggled in vain. She kicked her legs and started sobbing again in between her yelps and screams of pain.

"I plan to make this a very memorable spanking, darlin,'" Logan informed her as he continued to paddle. "You have been a very bad girl."

Knives of guilty pain shot through her stomach and she started sobbing deeply with gasping sobs that shook her. He spanked her hard and long, until she was shuddering and shaking with sobs.

"Five more smacks, then you'll get a rest." Logan delivered each one soundly. Then he turned her and carried her to the bed where he sat down and cradled her in his arms.

"Shhhhh, darlin.' Shhhh." He rocked her gently as she cried and cried. She put her arms around him and her face against his shoulder. He stroked her long, silvery white hair. She continued to sob.

"Did you really think you could end things, bang just like that, and not feel any pain, Ro?" Logan asked gently. She shook her head and continued to cry, suddenly flooded with memories of the very wonderful times she and Forge had had together especially the time they had had alone together on their own world in the pocket dimension into which they had fallen. She sometimes wished they had never decided to come back, but that was part of the problem with Forge. He had only been his happiest with her when he had her all to himself, and she needed and loved her friends and adopted family.

Logan lay down and pulled her down beside him still holding her tightly as she continued to sob.

"I did love him," she gasped.

"Know you did, darlin.' That's why you need to grieve. And that's why it deserved a better ending than angry sniping."

"I know," her sobs began to quiet and the tension drained out of her body. She became aware of the burning in her bottom. Some tingles began again in her puss.

Logan patted her bottom gently. "I think it's time to put you back in the corner," he said.

Ro felt a sinking in her guts. "Oh, no, please,"

"Yep, back in the corner, with your panties still down, spanked bottom displayed, now."

Ro got up, trembling slightly with mixed emotions. She was scared, sad, and still aroused. She walked on shaky feet, back to the corner. Wolvie followed close behind her, gently pushed her nose to the wall, put one hand to her belly, and bent her to the angle he desired.

"Arch your back, child," he ordered.

Her blazing butt was high on display. He adjusted her panties across the middle of her thighs and patted her bottom.

"Not bad," he commented. He moved silently away.

She felt tears spring up in her eyes again. She felt very bad and very punished with the prospect of more punishment to come before she were allowed to come. And worst of all, it seemed fair. She deserved to be punished and spanked and paddled for her behavior.

The tears gathered and fell.

Logan sat on the window sill and took a very deep breath. He knew she wanted and needed what he was doing to her, but he didn't want to go too far. This was not an easy task. He was aware of his own hands trembling slightly with worried concern. When Ro's sobs deepened and started to shake her body, all he wanted was to take her in his arms and hold her, but he was aware that she needed more punishment before his comforting arms would bring her real relief.

He went to her and took her by one arm. "You ready for your next spanking?" he asked gruffly, blinking back the tears in his own eyes.

She nodded, unable to speak. He guided her to the bed and put her face down over his knees, pulling her up tightly against his stomach.

She felt a wrenching relief at the comfort of his lap beneath her belly and the feel of his hard stomach against her side. She tingled as his hands adjusted her panties again at her thighs, and clenched her bottom in anticipation of the beginning of the spanking.

He used his hard and loving hand, spanking her already very sore and red butt. She started screaming almost immediately. It hurt like hell as he blazed his hand against the blisters and bruises already there. She twisted and squirmed, but his hand fell repeatedly against the target in his lap.

Thunder crashed outside and lightning struck close by.


"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," she sobbed trying desperately to control her powers. He answered her with a rain of fiery spanks and she cried out repeatedly as her tears gushed.

Logan gazed down at the twisting, struggling, sobbing woman over his knees. He sighed deeply and continued with the spanking until he was sure she felt more punished than even she could want.

He turned her in his arms and held her. She sobbed against him. "You will call Forge back and do a better job with your goodbye than you did before," he ordered.

She nodded, gasping and gulping with sobs. He rocked her. "It's okay now, darlin.' You been spanked. You are forgiven by me. Can you forgive yourself."

"Oh, about as easily as Remy does," she almost managed a laugh between her sobs.

"Great. Now I have an entire society of guilt ridden, former thieves on my hands."

"There's only two of us," she objected.

"Didn't I make a comment about that earlier today? About how there is more than one of each of us?"

Ro clasped him tightly in her arms and raised her face to his. He kissed her deeply and her sobs quieted and stilled.

He turned her and laid her gently on the bed, stripping off her shirt and panties as he pulled off his own clothes. He went back to her mouth and kissed her thoroughly and repeatedly and then moved his mouth down her body, caressing her breasts and nipples with his tongue and lips. She shuddered and gasped. He moved lower and put his mouth to her puss caressing it with his tongue. He flicked gently at her clit and then harder and harder. She screamed as pounding heat suddenly burst through her.

"AHHHH, ohhhhh, stop, love, stop." She grabbed his hair and pulled him off her as her body shook as course after course of shuddering pleasure swept through her. He laughed and watched her delighted release.

After a few moments, she relaxed and looked at him with dreamy gratification. "I want you in me," she said.

"No problem." He kissed her again and then turned her on the bed. She obediently rose to her knees and arched her back presenting him with her very spanked bottom. He put his hands upon her waist and entered her hungry sex. She ground back against him, and he reached his hand around her waist to caress her clit as he thrust into her.

She exploded almost as soon as he touched her, but still he pounded against her, thrusting deeply and feeling her push back at him. She came again as he did. He withdrew gently and gathered her back in his arms. She rested her head against his shoulder.

"Do you suppose anyone heard me screaming?" she asked, sleepily.

"Unless everyone in this house has gone deaf, which ain't likely I imagine we have done stimulated a lot of curiousity about what's been goin' in this loft." Logan grinned and held her tightly. "And I think we both need a nap. I'll wake you up in time for dinner."

She closed her eyes with exhausted relief and fell asleep almost immediately, breathing deeply and quietly. He held her close and closed his eyes himself. He still felt shaken himself from the intensity of their encounter, but he took his mind quickly to one of his well known meditations. He knew they both needed some kind of rest. Sleep found him more quickly than he expected.

* * *

Most of the occupants of the mansion were busy on the lower floors, but Beast and Remy were still working in his room on the third floor right below the loft. Beast's sharp hearing picked up on some of the sounds from the loft, long before Remy noticed. Hank knew the voices he heard were those of Storm and Wolverine, and considering the scene he had witnessed in the kitchen earlier, he figured they were doing what they wished.

Remy's attention was caught when Storm really started screaming during her second spanking. He jumped up from where he knelt in front of the terminal and started for the door. Hank grabbed his arm.

"Dat be Stormy!" Remy protested struggling against Beast's powerful grip. "Somet'ing must be wrong, Hank. She screamin.'"

"It is Storm," Hank said gently, "but I think she may want to be screaming. Listen for a minute, Remy. She's not screaming for help. And she's with Logan. I heard them several minutes ago. My hearings more acute than your's."

Gambit froze in shocked surprise and Beast released his arm. He jumped slightly in a startled response as thunder boomed and lightning struck near the house.

"Stormy and Logan!" he stared in shock at Hank. Then suddenly he was flooded with a new surge of memories of his early childhood. He sank down to his knees, holding his head in his hands.

Hank stared at him with concern. "What is it, Remy?" he asked.

"Dey were toget'er when I were smal. Dey were my godparents. I used t' go up t' de loft and climb in bed 'tween dem in de mornin's. He used t' tickle me and read me de funnies. Took me fishin' and campin.' Teachin' me 'bout the woods and de wild t'ings. Let me climb all o'er him an' let me wres'le wit him. Played wit me all de time." Tears gathered in his eyes as was the memories became vivid pictures in his mind.

Hank knelt beside him. "Yes?" he encouraged.

"And Stormy, she was lak 'nother mom t' me. See, my mot'er, she had t' leave me here a lot. T' keep me safe, I guess, from de plots an' intrigues in de Shi'ar empire. I guess, I mighta been de heir t' de t'rone." Remy's voice was full of confused wonder.

"I would indeed imagine so, Remy. So Ororo and Logan were your godparents?"

"I t'ink maybe Scott and Jean were, too, but dey had kids o' der own and I mostly 'member Wolvie and Stormy. She used t' spen' lots o' time wit me. Readin' t' me. Dey bot' played wit me a lot. He was 'my' Wolvie." Remy's voice went ragged. "Dey killed 'im, y'know. De bastards burned 'im up an' melted de adamantium in his bones." A sob shook him. Hank put a hand on his shoulder. He struggled with an urge to shake it off and withdraw into his private pain. But Hank had never been anything but kind to him. He tried to accept his compassion.

"Mebbe, dat be de only reason I got attached to Stormy and followed her home t' de X-men. Not'in good 'bout me. J'st tryin' t' find my way home." He fought it hard, but the tears came.

Beast shook his head, hurting with empathy for the boy kneeling beside him. "Remy, when you met Ororo she was hardly the surrogate mother in your memories. She had been regressed to the body of a child which is someone you never knew when you were little. When you saved her from the shadow king, you were motivated by a desire to help a desperate little girl. You behaved altruistically."

"I done what?" Remy asked through the tears he fought.

"You tried to help an innocent child in danger, because it was the right thing to do. Because you are basically a decent person."

Remy broke down in desperate, sobbing tears, bending over and clutching his aching guts with his arms. Hank knelt beside him feeling helpless to do anything.

"He was my Wolvie and now I ain' done not'in as a grown up but betray what he taught me," he gulped. "An' she was my Stormy, dat is what I called her when I were lit'l, an' I not b'come what she would've wan'd me t' be."

"No, Remy, no. That's not true."

They were both suddenly startled by the new scream of orgasmic fulfillment from Storm in the loft above them.

Remy grinned through his tears. "I guess you be right, Henri. Mebbe, she havin' some fun." He tried to still his anguished sobbing.

"Yes, I would say that she and Logan are finding some enjoyment in their new association," Hank admitted. "But what about you, young man?"

"I be okay, now, Henri. Really." Gambit held his breath until he managed to put his pain back on hold where he thought it should be. "But, I t'ink mebbe, we should stop workin' for t'day. I need some time alone."

Remy rose and went to his window seat. He sat down, trying not to wince as his sore butt hit the seat. He looked out the window and carefully avoided looking at Hank.

Beast sighed and shook his head about the stubborn pride of the young man if front of him. He knew no way to break through his determined guilt and shame.

"I'll be back later, perhaps tomorrow with the work I want you to do for me," he said.

Remy looked at him with eyes full of grateful respect. "T'ank you for trustin' me to help," he said.

"Thank you for helping. Remy, I tell you again, even if you choose not to listen, I like you, I respect you, I care about you."

Remy looked at him with eyes again full of tears. "T'ank you, Henri. It do mean a lot t' me."

Beast sighed. "Do you remember me in your life as a little guy?" he asked.

"Not yet," Remy admitted. "I 'magine dat will be anot'er hurtin' memory sometime soon."

Hank walked out the door.

Remy put his face against the glass of the window and the tears came again. Alone, he allowed himself to sob himself into a tight ball of lonely, lost, abandoned misery.

Where the hell was Rogue?

To be continued. . .