Work Text:
Against the Fire
Hank hadn't particularly wanted to risk transporting their prisoner to the infirmary, but Death's blistered hands were only one of a host of concerns.
Logan and Scott had protested, but Hank put his foot down and gave a speech about the Hippocratic oath, stating that it should apply to the dead if they were also living. Scott appeared to be ready to argue the point, but Logan—rarely a man of words—decided that accompanying Death to the infirmary was a better use of everyone's time.
True, that was after Rogue had threatened to knock all of them out, but Hank's worried expression while taking Remy's—Death's—vitals had been enough for her nerves to go into overdrive.
"I do not mind sendin' all y'all where he came from if you keep yammerin' rather than gettin' him help," she'd warned.
And that had been that.
Death hadn't seemed to care, could barely keep his head up. And she'd already seen Remy die once, so she'd be damned if she was going to let that happen again on her watch.
Now, Death was sedated, not quite lucid, but not quite unconscious. He was restrained, still wore a suppression collar, but Logan intended to block the entrance so long as the man was out of his cell.
"Sugar, I know you think I got a big ol' horse in this race, but he's down for the count."
"You might even say I gave him enough of a sedative to—ahem—knock out a horse," Hank chuckled.
Logan was not amused.
"Let's just get him back in his cell soon. I don't trust him."
"I know," Rogue sighed.
It annoyed her, disappointed her even, but she could still admit that Logan's worry—the team's worry—was justified.
Remy had been a force to be reckoned with during battle, had been all but unstoppable. Truth be told, she was still surprised that they had succeeded.
Lotta effort for this here Cajun, she could almost hear him say.
Rogue looked at his face, her eyes beginning to sting.
Not enough effort for you, sugar, she thought.
Remy had died thinking himself a scoundrel, thinking that she'd chosen someone else.
There had been palpable relief in his eyes, in his words, as he joined her and Erik at the beginning of the attack on Genosha. They'd all been relieved that Kurt was alive, but Remy had looked at Rogue with love and tenderness that she hadn't deserved.
He loves me anyway, she'd realized, though it shouldn't have been a surprise.
Erik stepped between them almost immediately after Remy arrived, and her chest had felt as tight as her clenched fists.
She stared back at Remy, her eyes wide.
I love you, too, was at the tip of her tongue.
And she'd been too much of a damn coward to say it.
In a way, she'd gotten what she deserved that day.
Rogue blinked quickly, fighting tears for the millionth time since she could remember.
Remy really would hate that she was crying over him, but she hated that he thought he wasn't worth her tears.
He was worth everything.
"I'm so sorry, sugar," she said quietly.
Remy was so still on the infirmary bed, his strong body looking weaker than she'd ever seen it.
She reached out, putting her gloved hand over his.
She gasped, drawing back as if her hands had also been scorched.
She'd expected to feel a chill, fingers like ice. But she'd felt warmth, even through fabric.
"Hank, he-"
Hank nodded.
"He has a fever."
"Oh. I thought- Just didn't expect him to have warm hands."
Course it ain't a good thing.
Hank seemed to see her disappointment.
"His vitals are improving in other ways. His heartbeat is within the normal range. His lungs are… As good as a former smoker's might ever be."
Hank shook his head, appearing annoyed in the way only someone who had ever argued with Remy LeBeau could look.
"A number of signs are good," he continued.
"So, he might be healthy but evil?" Rogue asked drily.
She heard Logan snort across the room.
Hank smiled.
"Let us aim for 'healthy' before tackling 'evil.' I believe small steps are best for someone in his condition."
"What condition? Dead?" Logan asked.
Hank shrugged.
"I admit the research is limited. But I find his numbers encouraging."
He checked Remy's IV.
"I do hope that we have fewer days that I see both of you here," Hank said pointedly. "You both ought to take better care of yourselves."
Rogue looked at Remy—Death—giving him a wry smile.
"Who knew it'd take this for us to share a bed, sugar?"
She put her hand back on top of Remy's, giving it a squeeze.
"We got any way of knowin' what's goin' on inside his head?"
"Jean and the professor have been trying to understand."
"Guessin' it ain't too promisin' if we haven't heard anythin'. Or they're just worried I'll take the information and run with it," she sniffled. "Like to think I know better than to have blinders on at a time like this, but maybe I don't."
Logan nodded.
"Hate to say it, kid, but you know if he'd try to fool anyone, it'd be you. Gotta be careful."
Rogue nodded.
She'd have fought back normally, would have raged about the team not trusting her. But she was too damn tired, and Logan probably wasn't wrong.
"My Aunt Carrie always used to say, 'Stand too close to the fire, and you'll get burned.' Also used to say I spent all my time right up against the fire."
Rogue sighed.
"Guess if I do get hurt I'm askin' for it."
She studied Remy's skin. It looked so gray and lifeless, not something that ought to ever give her hope.
"Ain't never been too good at recognizin' a lost cause."
She gave Logan a look.
"Ain't gonna let anythin' happen to the team, sugar."
She wiped her eyes.
"Just hate the idea o' Remy bein' in there and not gettin' the help he needs," she croaked.
Logan nodded, his eyes softening slightly, though she could tell he wasn't convinced.
Hank put a hand on Rogue's shoulder.
"We all understand your desire for Remy's recovery, my dear. We wish for it ourselves."
That made Logan snort.
"Speak for yourself."
Death shifted suddenly, his face scrunching up.
Rogue gasped.
"Remy?"
Her eyes darted to Hank.
"Is he in pain?"
Hank returned to the IV, adjusting something.
Death let out a small groan.
"Oh God-"
"He is alright, my dear."
"But-"
"His body is going through a great deal."
Rogue stood without even thinking and moved her chair closer to the end of the bed.
She stroked Death's hair and leaned down, kissing him on the crown of his head.
"You're okay, baby," she said soothingly.
She'd done the same, said the same, when Remy had gotten headaches in the past, when he'd tried to hide alone in a dark room rather than asking for help.
Death's eyes fluttered open in surprise.
"Careful-" Logan warned.
"Sorry, sugar," she told Death. "You looked like you were hurtin'."
He studied her closely, confused for a moment, and then he closed his eyes again.
Hmmm.
Not a great sign. But not a bad one either.
Her fingers were still in his hair, and she pulled them out slowly, trying not to disturb him.
Death's eyes flew open again, and he appeared to be trying to raise his hands, started thrashing when he realized his wrists were bound.
"Hey!" Logan shouted, now brandishing his claws.
"Wait- No-" Rogue cried.
Rogue held up her hands, at a loss.
"You're okay," she said, trying and failing to sound calm.
She put her hands back on Death's head, trying to do something that might be soothing.
"You're okay,” she repeated.
Death stopped moving, letting out a sigh.
Rogue felt her jaw drop.
"I- What-" she sputtered, looking up at Hank.
"Hmm," Hank said. "That was…"
"Really damn dangerous-" Logan growled.
"Unexpected," Hank finished.
Rogue guessed it was both.
So much for standin' too close, she thought wryly.
Death was still, but he kept his eyes fixed on her until she began massaging his scalp.
"Like that, sugar?"
Death gave her an almost imperceptible nod, his eyes fluttering shut.
"That is what I mean, kid," Logan ground out. "Things can go south really quick."
"I know."
Logan was right, but Remy's—Death's—face had already softened slightly, and he leaned into her hand.
She wouldn't have moved away for anything.
"I'm bein' careful."
She heard Logan snort, sheathing his claws despite clearly not being convinced.
Rogue continued to stroke Death's hair, massaging his scalp slowly, the way Remy had always liked.
"I've got you, sweetheart," she murmured.
Even if it kills me.
His brow was still furrowed, and he occasionally winced, but after a while, his forehead smoothed, and he let out another quiet sigh.
"Think he's asleep," she whispered.
Hank nodded.
Rogue wiped her eyes, sniffling as she stroked Death's hair one more time.
Gonna give me whiplash, sugar.
She stood.
"I'll let y'all do whatever you need to." She turned to Logan. "Let me know when he's back in his cell?"
Logan blew out a long breath, nodding.
She kissed Remy on the head.
"Get some rest, love."
Audio/Podfic Version
(read aloud by me!)
Length: 10:48
Listen: Against the Fire mp3
*Sorry, there was a very assertive bird outside that I couldn’t quite edit out of the audio*