Rating: let's call it PG , for illusions of violence
Genre/Warnings: Logan/Remy slash
Summary: Remy saves a fellow werewolf in need.
Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own the comic or the boys, and that sucks.
Author's Note: Special thanks as always to momma_66 and gothabilly13 for their words of encouragement. Thanks, gals! I hope everyone enjoys this ficlet. It is my first complete prompt for hc_bingo . Enjoy!
Remy watched from his perch on the roof as the last of the pack ran towards the safety of the mansion, the gates closing automatically behind them. He had wanted to go out for the nightly run with them, but his Tante Mattie said his hand still wasn't properly healed. He studied his bandaged hand, which had gotten caught in a hunting trap during a run a couple nights ago. He had tried to tell her that his hand was fine, but she glowered at him and said, "Now, chile, I t'ink I know a lil' mo'e 'bout healin' den you! Now I say ya ain't goin' out, and ya daddy agree wit' me!"
He laid back, the rough shingles rubbing against his clothes and skin like sand paper. He moved his wounded hand to pull his beaten pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket when a gunshot sounded. Remy jerked into an uptight position. Two more gunshots cracked like thunder followed by a howl of distress. Remy growled and leapt from the roof to the ground. He landed with a grunt just as the front door to the mansion opened. He took off running and scaled the gate with ease, his father Jean-Luc calling after him, "Remy! Get back here! Ya gonna get yo'self killed!"
He ran into the dense woods, pausing under a giant oak tree to smell and listen. The hunters were close, maybe a few yards away, their prey slowing down with each step. The smell of blood grew thicker in the air to the point where Remy could tell it was one of his kind. He tracked the wolf, using the strong scent of its blood. After a tense few minutes, he found it hiding in the dense leaves of a willow tree. Remy approached it slowly and admired its beauty. Its fur was as black as midnight and its blue eyes were alight with fear and pain. Its hackles raised as Remy came closer and it growled low in its throat. Remy got down on his hands and knees and murmured, "I'm a friend, homme. You're hurt bad, and I can help. S'il vous plaît me fier?"
The wolf stumbled forward, and as it sniffed him, Remy spotted three spots where its fur gleamed in the moonlight. After a moment, it licked his cheek weakly and collapsed in front of him. Remy gathered his wounded friend in his arms and ran swiftly back to the mansion, the wolf in his arms letting out little whimpers of pain. Jean-Luc and Mattie were waiting at the gates and much of the pack was watching the the windows and front porch of the mansion. As he approached them, he huffed, "Dis one is hurt real bad. I can smell de silver in de blood."
Jean-Luc closed the gates as Mattie stroked the wolf's face and neck, murmuring, "Don' ya worry now, mon ami. Ya safe 'ere. Mattie'll fix ya up in no time."
Mattie led him to her room and he laid the wolf down. A few younger pack members crowded at the door and Remy snapped, "Ain't any of you got anyt'ing better to do? Go back to your rooms!"
He looked back at the wolf and apologized, "Sorry 'bout dat. You know how youngin's can be, non?"
Mattie moved to the other side of the bed with her basket of supplies and set it down on the end of the bed. She stroked down its right side, pausing at two bloodied spots, its shoulder and the lower part of its ribcage. She felt underneath him, nodding toward its hip, and murmured, "Dis be a miracle notre ami 'ere remained uncaptured. Dis wounds are grave to be sure."
"But you can save 'im, can you, Tante?" Remy asked, stroking their patient's neck, feeling a fever already building.
"Of course, chile," Mattie replied with a smile. "I won' let our new friend 'ere slip away."
The first thing they did was give the wolf a sleeping potion. After waiting a few minutes for it to take full effect, Remy worked on removing the bullets while Mattie made up her potion for silver poisoning. For the potion to be the most effective, it had to be freshly brewed each time. Remy worked carefully, not wanting to cause more damage. The bullet that proved the most difficult to remove was the one lodged in the wolf's hip. It took almost 30 minutes before he removed the cursed metal with a shout of victory. By that time, Mattie had finished making the potion and had poured a small amount of it into a vial. She handed to Remy and instructed, "Tilt da head jus' so and pour dat down its t'roat."
Remy nodded and moved one of his arms underneath the wolf's neck, cradling it gently as he poured the potion into its mouth. He massaged its throat softly to ensure that the liquid was swallowed properly. Setting the vial aside, he took a small wooden bowl that Mattie offered and looked inside it. The potion had been been mixed with a number of herbs and medicine and stirred until it formed a spicy-smelling paste. She gathered a large dollop on her fingertips and said, "Now we need to pack da wounds wit' dis 'ere to rid dem of de silver poisonin'."
Remy do as he was told, grimacing at the paste's slimy texture, then proceeded to pack the shoulder wound. They were forced to pause in their work as the wolf finally transformed back into its human state. It was a man, looking to be in his mid to late 40's, Remy guessed. His hair was the same jet black color as his wolfen counterpart. Mattie hummed in happiness, "Oh, dis be good news. Means da potion be workin' on 'im."
They continued their work, although Remy found himself distracted by the man's rugged features. His skin was a dark golden color, as if he bathed in sunlight. His chest was covered with hair that tapered into a line leading down to his groin. He felt his cheeks heat up as he looked at the length between the man's legs. Mattie cleared her throat and said, "If ya finished, sew up dat wound and bind it."
His limbs felt heavy, only his basic instinct to survive keeping him from giving up. Another shot sounded and one of his back legs exploded with pain. He summoned one last burst of energy and put a little more distance between himself and his would-be captors...
He couldn't understand the young man's words, but the tone behind them pushed back his fear. The young man smelled wolfen, and he was so tired. The young man picked him up and he actually felt safe...
"'as 'e awoke a'tall? Said anyt'ing?"
His mouth...so dry. The young man's smell was near, he was safe. He felt his head being lifted, and cool relief began trickling past his lips. The young man laid his head back down. Then he felt cool wetness on his skin.
"No, Tante 'e hasn'. I keep givin' 'im lil' swallows of water and broth, so dat....
Remy...the young man was Remy. His smell rarely faded, which meant Remy rarely left the room. His voice and smell were soothing. Remy spoke to him often, whether it be a one-sided conversation or stories of his many misadventures. He wished he could reply to Remy's questions, wanted to see him with human eyes. But he was still so tired...
Mattie hummed a simple tune as she tugged the thick curtains back and opened the windows, letting fresh air and sunshine fill the room. Their guest was still sound asleep, his wounds almost fully healed. After she and Remy finished treating all of his wounds, they moved him into one of the many guest rooms. Remy stayed with the man for the next four days until earlier that morning, she shooed the tired child out of the room, demanding he go eat something then get some rest.
She took a seat in her rocker near the window and picked up some of her knitting, a deep purple scarf for Remy. A warm breeze blew into the room and she smiled, humming her little tune and working on the scarf. It was then that she heard a low groan sound from the bed. She stood and went to the side of the bed, where the man was finally awakening. He let out a low groan and his eyes fluttered open. They sleepily glided over the room, frowning as his eyes settled on her. She have him her most soothing smile and said, "We didn' t'ink ya was ever gonna wake up!"
"Where's..." the man closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled through his nose, "...the boy? Remy? Where is he?"
Mattie busied herself with gathering him a fresh pair of clothes, replying, "Oh, dat chile's been wit' ya since 'e brought you 'ere. Poor t'ing wore 'imself slap out. So I chased 'im out dis mornin' and made 'im go get some sleep."
She grabbed him a white muscle white shirt, a gray boxers, and black sweat pants. Moving back to his side, she laid his fresh clothes on one arm and placed her other hand on her hip, asking, "Wanna try and take a bath? Wash all day stink off ya."
"Yeah," the man rasped, "that sounds great."
She slid an arm under his back and helped him sit up slowly. He groaned as stiff muscles were forced to work. She helped him slowly move his legs off the bed and stand. They hobbled to the bathroom where she sat him on the toilet and placed his clothe on the sink. The bathtub was large enough to fit two grown men in it. She turned on the water and adjusted it until the temperature was just right. She looked back at him and asked, "Ya gonna need help? If not, I'll go on downstairs and start cookin' ya somet'ing to eat."
"No, ma'am, I'll be fine," he replied, smiling for the first time since he'd woke. "Thank you."
Logan groaned as he ate another spoonful of the red beans and rice the old woman Mattie had brought up for him. It had huge chunks of sausage in it along with three large squares of cornbread dripping with butter. That was one thing he loved about the South: food with more calories than he could shake a stick at but it always tasted so damn good! He took another drunk of the herbal tea Mattie insisted he drink to clear out any lingering traces of silver poisoning.
There was a soft knock at the door and Logan swallowed another mouthful of red beans and rice before calling out, "Come in!"
The door creaked open and Remy entered the room. Logan felt himself perk up immediately as the young man moved to sit down on the end of the bed. His long auburn hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. He wore a LSU t-shirt, the golden tiger roaring proudly, and a ratty pair of blue jeans. He looked at Logan, who was shocked at Remy's alien-looking eyes. The iris was a blood right which stood out in stark contrast to the black sclera. Remy didn't flinch at Logan's returned gaze, something that surprised the older man. Shifting to face him better, Remy said, "Happy you finally woke up."
"Happy to be awake," Logan replied, taking another drink of the tea. He set his glass and plate of food on the bedside table. He looked back to Remy and said, "I want to thank you for saving me. You didn't have to put yourself at risk but did anyway. That takes an incredible amount of courage. So thank you."
Remy's cheeks turned the lightest pink at the compliments, bowing his head bashfully and murmuring, "T'ank you."
They were silent for a beat, Logan grabbing one of the pieces of cornbread and dipping it in the red beans and rice. He could feel Remy's gaze and turned his head just in time for their eyes to connect again. Remy smiled and remarked, "Your clan mus' be worried 'bout you. My papa wants to know if dere's anyone 'e should-"
"I don't have a clan," Logan said, averting his gaze this time. He stayed quiet for a moment, not want to dump his sob story on anyone. But glancing at Remy, he saw that the young man wanted to know. "I was at my cabin in the Rockies. I was outside, chopping some wood, near dusk. As I was finishing up, what I thought was a huge dog wandered into my yard. Seeing my axe, it immediately became defensive and jumped on me. It bit into my right bicep. I managed to grab a log nearby and..."
Remy nodded, his beautifully strange eyes alight with sympathy. Logan felt his cheeks heat up when he realized he was checking the young man out. Remy moved further onto the bed, crossing his legs Indian style, and asked, "So what brought you to New Awlins?"
Logan chuckled a little and replied, "Strangely enough, I came here to find this clan. I did a little research and found out that this is the oldest clan in the country. I came here for..."
He stopped, embarrassed to admit his weakness, his need for sanctuary. But Remy spared him having to say it out loud. He pinched Logan's toes through the covers and teased, "Don' worry, you can stay 'ere. Mattie insists on it."
Logan grinned and retrieved his dinner from the little table. Taking another large spoonful, he smiled softly at Remy and said, "Thank you."
A/N- Thank you for reading! Reviews are yummy like cookies!