Thicker than Water: Part Four

by Carol

It's amazing how one ordinary man's actions can affect so many lives across so many years. Scott paused his channel-surfing with the remote held in mid-air. Thanksgiving was still a week away and already the cable stations were competing to see which channel could run the most showings of It's a Wonderful Life. As he watched, he wondered, not for the first time, how his life would have been different had his father chosen to leave his mother and stay with his lover. His mother may have still been alive. They never would have been on that plane that fateful day that changed all of their lives forever. He wouldn't have grown up in an orphanage. Wouldn't have been separated from Alex. Wouldn't have suffered the concussion that ruined his chance of controlling his mutant optic blasts. Would he have met Charles Xavier then? Been a part of the X-Men? Would he have met and married Jean? A wry smile touched his lips as he tried to picture Jean in the role of the meek librarian for never having met her George Bailey. It didn't quite fit. But, how would her life have been different?

And what about Remy's life? He would have grown up in a home with two parents instead of on the streets of New Orleans. Probably wouldn't have become a thief. Never gone in search of Sinister. Would there have been a group known as the Marauders? The Massacre? Sinister may just have found someone else to do his dirty work, but still…

It was dangerous thinking.

He tried to push it out of his mind as he flipped through the channels impatiently. It wasn't easy, though. Remy was a great preoccupation of late. And he wasn't even sure why it mattered to him. It wasn't as if the two of them had ever been friends. They were as disparate as any two X-Men had ever been. Still, Remy's question plagued him. If he had known then, would it have made a difference? To say no would have meant that things would have been exactly as they were – never quite liking each other, never fully trusting each other. But to say yes would have implied that he treated Remy unfairly somehow, that he would have treated him differently simply because he was his brother. It was hard to be completely honest with himself when his conscience argued why each answer was the wrong one.

He checked his watch. Jean should be back from shopping soon. After this morning's disastrous confrontation with Remy, he and Jean decided to cut their visit short and return to Alaska tomorrow instead of staying through the weekend. He had gotten the answers he had come for. Nothing more. There didn't appear to be any reason to stay. They were expecting company for Thanksgiving anyway, and they had plenty to do at home to get ready for it.

Sighing, he turned the television off and rose with a stretch. There was no distraction from his troubled thoughts to be found there. He'd go and see if he could find Kurt instead. Maybe he could find some relief in talking about the new danger room or the refit of the team's original Blackbird.

He was startled as he turned to leave the rec room and found Ororo standing in the doorway. He hadn't heard her come in. Then he took in her pose, arms hugging a diaphanous wrap closely about her bare arms, head down, lips pursed pensively. She didn't look up when he turned around, and he began to wonder if she had been standing there for very long.

"Ororo? I thought you went shopping with the others."

She looked up then and shook her head slightly. "I was going to, but Remy came home and. . . we talked."

He had known that Remy had come home, of course. As much as he tried to convince himself it truly didn't matter, his traitorous subconscious was very in tune to the sound of the Harley returning. He assumed that the other man was avoiding him, preferring to sequester himself in the boathouse instead. He hadn't known that Ororo was with him.

She drew the wrap about her more tightly and smiled sadly, and Scott knew what they must have talked about. "He told you."

"Yes, he told me everything."

"I'm sorry." He truly hadn't wanted to see Ororo hurt, but at the same time he was glad that Remy came clean with her. Although he had told Remy that he himself wouldn't tell her, he knew that no answer would have been enough of an answer if she had asked him. "What now?" he asked gently.

"I will forgive him, even though he does not believe he deserves forgiveness."

"Are you so sure he deserves forgiveness?" he asked, somewhat bemused. She had put more faith and trust in Remy than anyone had, often arguing in his favor when others were wont to discredit him. And yet his lies and half-truths probably hurt her more than anyone as well. She had already seemed to find a way to forgive him for his part in the Massacre. And here she was talking about forgiving him for his manipulation of her in bringing him to the X-Men.

Ororo cocked her head slightly and regarded him thoughtfully. "Family has always meant a great deal to Remy. It does not surprise me that he went to such lengths to find his."

"Family?" he scoffed. "I don't know if he told you anything about our conversation this morning, but he made it perfectly clear what his family means to him. Nothing."

"I do not believe that for one moment."

Scott could only gape at her. She was so matter-of-fact, daring him to argue the point with her. While he'd been wondering how she could find it in her to forgive the man yet again, here she was defending him as well. "'It didn't mean anything then, it doesn't mean anything now.' His words."

"You have to look beyond the words, Scott. Look to his actions instead. Consider all that he did to find his parents, do you really think that it does not matter to him?"

Scott shook his head, unconvinced. "Perhaps at one time. But not now."

She regarded him quietly for a moment, and he began to feel uncomfortable under her calm scrutiny. "After the Massacre, after he knew not only who his father was but who you were as well, he went to extraordinary measures to come here. We might have found him out then and condemned him as one of the Marauders. But he still risked it. To meet his brother. You, Scott."

"He was curious."

"He stayed."

"He thought he could find redemption."

"He came back."

"You asked him to."

"Knowing now that you are brothers now makes it easy attribute similar traits to your relationship." She smiled then, teasingly. "You are both as stubborn as mules."

He gave her a wry look and shook his head. "I don't know, Ororo. I tried and all I got for my efforts was a brick wall of anger and resentment."

"So you will leave tomorrow?"

The disappointment in her voice didn't sit well with him. How much harder was he supposed to try when Remy gave him every indication that he wanted nothing to do with him? "Maybe after he has some time to let it sink in, like I had… maybe it can be different then."

"Maybe," she said. But her eyes said differently. "One more thing. Remy has been away for several months. With everybody going their separate ways recently, there are only three of us still here that were here when he left."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "And?" he prompted.

"The only person he asked about when he returned was you."

She left then, as quietly as she came, leaving him once again to his thoughts.

"He only wanted the boathouse," he muttered to himself.

****

The acrid smell of cigarette smoke assaulted his nose a moment before Scott rounded the corner into the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks. Logan was gone for the night, so it could only be one other person in there, and he wasn't sure he was up to another confrontation like this morning. He looked at the envelope in his hand and tapped it against his palm, debating. He'd almost forgotten about returning the photostrip to Remy. He and Jean had gone to bed, and while he lay awake, staring at the ceiling and envying Jean for being able to fall asleep so quickly, he remembered it. Careful not to wake her, he got up and went in search of an envelope to put it into. The original manila envelope was long forgotten, the other items no longer of interest to him personally. He would have to make sure that he sent it back to Remy though, in case the other man felt differently about them. But the photostrip was a constant companion that he found himself using as a focal point to ponder their circumstances. It was odd, but he found he was very reluctant to let go of it. But, it belonged to Remy and he had no right to keep it.

He intended to leave the sealed envelope with the other man's name on it in the kitchen, sure that Ororo or someone would see that he got it. But he certainly hadn't anticipated that Remy would be there now. It was a little after midnight, and as far as he knew, everyone else was in bed. Remy had taken up residence in the boathouse, so it was even more odd that he should be here now. Must be in search of a midnight snack or something.

Scott suppressed a sigh. He didn't want another showdown. Yet, if he had learned anything about Remy at all, he was sure the other man probably knew that he was right outside the door. If he turned around now, it would be admitting that he preferred to avoid him which, he smiled grimly, was exactly what he wanted to do. He could leave the envelope on the hallway table in the foyer, instead. But he could hear Ororo's gentle admonition earlier. Look beyond his words and consider his actions instead. Was it possible that he was here for another reason?

Gathering his resolve, he turned the corner and entered the kitchen. Adopting an air of nonchalance he didn't feel, he only took a passing glance at the other man on his way to the refrigerator. Remy sat at the table with his head leaning back against the wall and his eyes closed. His knees were drawn up on the seat against the table, so that it looked like he was wedged between the wall and the table. His arms rested on his knees, and the burning cigarette nearly dangled from one hand. The cigarette had at least an inch and a half of burnt ash on it, all but hiding the orange glow of the live ember, and Scott wondered if he had actually fallen asleep in that position.

He stood with the refrigerator door open as he considered whether he should take the burning cigarette away when Remy's eyes opened suddenly. The two men regarded each other in careful silence until Remy broke the gaze to lean forward and crush out the cigarette in the ashtray. Scott took the opportunity to stall a little longer by taking out some juice and pouring a glassful. When he turned back around, Remy was still dabbing the mangled butt into the ashtray.

"Ororo told me you told her everything," Scott said softly as he leaned against the counter.

Still intent on the ashtray, Remy nodded once. "I never wanted t' hurt her."

"She forgives you."

Remy's eyes met his under his too-long bangs. "Not de same t'ing, though, is it?"

Scott knew there was no sense in answering. If there had been no hurt, there would have been no need for forgiveness.

Remy reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table and tapped one out. He lifted it halfway to his mouth before apparently changing his mind and tossing it back on the table with the half-empty pack. "I suppose I should feel relieved or somet'ing now dat she knows." His gaze flicked to Scott's once more. "An' now dat you know. Cat'artic, dat de word?" He sighed heavily as he dropped his head back against the wall once again. "But all I feel is raw an' exposed."

And that was exactly how he looked and sounded, Scott thought. He studied his glass of orange juice looking for something else to say. When he could find nothing, he pushed away from the counter and put the envelope on the table.

Remy looked at it for a minute, then picked it up and opened it. Discarding the envelope, he stared at the photo with nearly the same reverence as Patricia had. Scott suddenly felt guilty for having had it in his possession as if he had just admitted to reading someone's diary.

"I didn't think to bring the rest of the stuff," Scott apologized. "I can send it to you, though."

"Dat's okay," he whispered, and Scott thought he heard his voice catch slightly. "De rest ain' impor'ant."

Feeling uncomfortable in the growing silence, Scott set the untouched glass in the sink and turned toward the door. But he stopped before he took a step toward it. Part of him wanted to leave now with a small victory in being able to talk without digressing into an argument. But it would be an empty victory because he realized that he really hadn't said anything at all.

"The answer is yes," he said suddenly.

Remy looked at him questioningly and Scott turned back to face him.

"You asked me if it would have made a difference if I had known, and I didn't answer you. But the answer's yes."

Remy's eyebrows lifted in surprise and his mouth worked silently as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just stayed silent, watching Scott skeptically.

"I don't know if it's the right answer," Scott continued, "but it's the honest one. I think…" he paused thoughtfully, trying to organize his thoughts into words. "I think I would have tried harder."

Remy's mouth quirked into a wry smile. "What? T' make me a better X-Man? Or, t' make me more like you?"

Scott shook his head. "No, nothing like that. I think I would have tried harder to understand you. To accept you. Earn your trust." Remy was watching him intently and he shrugged nervously. "Maybe if I had, you would have felt that you could have told us about the Massacre, and that whole Antarctica mess would never have happened."

He shifted uncomfortably under the intensity of the other man's gaze. Remy appeared to be somewhat astonished, and Scott realized that he had truly been convinced that the answer would have been no. Scott could almost see the thoughts churning in his mind, perhaps wondering if he could believe him.

"I'd like to believe that I would have at any rate," he added. "I think that's what that saying is about. Blood is thicker than water. Not that you love someone automatically because they're related to you, but maybe that you try a little harder to accept them. Especially, the ones that you might not have otherwise chosen to be friends with." Remy's eyes widened a little at that admission and Scott flushed slightly. But then he reminded himself that it certainly was no secret that the two men were never friends, and Remy, of all people, would already know that.

Remy's expression settled into cautious acceptance finally and he swallowed. "Woudn' have worked. You would have wanted t' know right away how I found you, an' if I would have tol' you, you would have t'rown me out on my ear," he said.

"Maybe." Scott pursed his lips and said seriously, "I don't know if you know this or not, but I've been accused of being a little self-righteous at times."

A slight crinkling around the eyes was the only hint of a smile as Remy replied, equally as serious, "I hadn' heard dat 'bout you."

Scott allowed a small laugh. It felt good. They held each other's gaze a little longer as the silence ensued again. It was a good start, and Scott thought that perhaps it was time to quit while he was ahead. "Well," he started, then just, "Goodnight then."

Remy nodded in return and turned his attention back to the photo as Scott turned to leave. He got as far as the door when Remy asked, "What'd he say when you tol' him?"

The question surprised him, and Scott doubted at first that he was talking about Corsair until he turned back. Remy was gripping the picture tightly, and Scott could tell by his expression that he wished he could take the question back. It must have been a very difficult question to ask.

He wished he could give him a less difficult answer. "He said, 'For what it's worth,' he's sorry."

"Ain' worth much," he snorted.

"No, I didn't think it would be," Scott agreed. "But he's had a few months to digest it. I don't know what he would say now. I haven't talked to him since."

He nodded once, whether in agreement or to dismiss the subject, Scott didn't know.

"I almos' tol' you a few times," Remy said then. "A couple times when I t'ought dat maybe if I confessed everyt'ing it would still be all right." He tapped the picture. "But dis was de other big reason why I never did. I never wanted him t' know. I never wanted t' hear de excuses or de apologies. And telling you was de same t'ing as telling him."

"I'm sorry," Scott apologized automatically, but Remy stopped him.

"No, don' be. It's jus' dat…" He blew out a breath then started again. "Y' can be self-righteous at times. But more dan dat, y' are a righteous person and dere's not'ing wrong wit' dat." He paused, then continued with his explanation. "It wasn' dat I t'ought you would run an' tell him dat I was his son because y' t'ought he should know. I figured dat you would confront him out of anger over what he did t' y' mother. An' mine."

Which was exactly what he did. He hadn't even brought up the fact that Remy was his son until he'd upbraided Corsair for what he'd done to his wife and his lover.

Another silence expanded between the two of them, this one a little less uncomfortable as the two men seemed to find a tenuous line to grasp onto. Remy unfolded himself from the chair finally and rose, getting ready to leave. He looked at Scott as he shrugged into his coat. "So, 'Ro said y' goin' back tomorrow?"

Scott nodded while part of his mind wondered how much influence Ororo had in Remy's coming up to the house tonight. "Jean's parents are flying out for Thanksgiving," he said absently. Even though they won't be out until Wednesday, he thought. He found himself regretting having given up so soon and changing their flights.

"Maybe after things settle down here, you can come out to visit," he said impulsively. He blanched inwardly as the words came out. It was too much, too soon, he admonished himself. Dismayed, he kept talking. "It's not like I'll make you go to the movies or fishing with me or anything." He could barely resist the temptation to roll his eyes at his own stupid remark. Just shut up, Scott.

Remy's expression went from dubious to amused though. "Not'ing wrong wit' fishin'," he said.

Abashed, Scott's mouth quirked into a sheepish half-smile. He started over. "So much has happened this year. I feel like I lost a lot. It was kind of nice to find something amid all of that." He looked at him seriously and forged ahead. "I know we've never been friends, but I'd like a chance to change that." He held his breath, waiting for the other man's reaction.

Remy cocked his head, considering for a moment. Finally, he said. "I t'ink I'd like dat."

Scott allowed a more genuine smile. It wasn't a small victory after all. It was far better than he could have possibly hoped for. "So, come out for a week or two," he prompted, less afraid to push.

"Maybe in de summer." His smile turned grim as his eyes clouded over with painful memories. "I had enough of de cold t' last a lifetime, neh?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah, I guess you did." He thought of Rogue and her troubled demeanor at Harry's last night. Perhaps waiting until the summer to come to Alaska would give Remy a chance to work things out with her first. If they could be worked out. "So, how did you get out of there anyway?"

Remy's expression closed immediately, his eyes narrowing as wariness crept back into them.

Scott closed his eyes and barely repressed the urge to snort in derision. Another secret. Logan had said that Remy had been very noncommittal about how he had survived, leaving everyone to their own speculations. There had been too many other things to talk about, so he himself hadn't bothered to ask until now.

But, he had gained far too much to throw it away now. He forced the instinctive anger aside. Time to try some of that acceptance and understanding he had just finished talking about. "That's okay. I didn't mean to pry," he said at last.

Remy relaxed a little. "I know. I…" He faltered then started again. "It's jus' dat…"

Scott held his breath as he waited for him to continue. Remy jammed his hands into his pocket, lowered his head and took a deep breath. When he looked back up, there was a scared determination in his eyes. Then, to Scott's astonishment, he told him the whole story.

The End

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