Title: Trials of Bonded Friendship

Author: nilereina

Pairings: (Past) Remy/Rogue, Harry/Ginny; (friendship) Harry/Remy; Sabertooth/Harry, Logan/Remy/Bobby

Rating: M

Archive: FFN, Unique Realities

Summary: Twin souls reach across two different universes for companionship from someone who would understand and never betrayed. Years later, one is betrayed and left to die in the bitter cold of Antarctica but a life-long companion will willingly leave his world behind to save the only friend he has left.

Disclaimers/Warnings: Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling...X-men and villains belong to those at Marvel Comics….Mild to little situations of M/F pairings, M/M, and M/M/M pairings….Mild to implied situations of violence, bloodshed, torture, emotional/verbal/physical abuse, mental rape, prostitution….Possible spoilers from HP books 1-6 and Marvel comic universe…Crossover and AU setting

Author Notes: The timeline will jump from age to age with each memory but the main timeline in which the plot is set is when Harry and Remy are around their twenties (possibly mid-late twenties)…..Some things and situations may be altered or changed all together to correspond for the plot and timelines…Each chapter may alternate between point of view, mainly between Remy or Harry, but I'll do my best to let you know ahead of time whose memory is playing

Author Notes2: This is not New Leaf's sequel…This is a possible AU setting of New Leaf….This story came about as an idea of what if Harry already knew of the mutant universe and Remy long before he crossed over and a different path of decisions were made….(There are also hints of actions throughout the story that will happen or are similar to events in New Leaf's sequel;))

Key Code:

Blah: thoughts, emphasis

Blah: Yelling/screaming

/Blah/: Flashbacks

/'Blah'/: Flashback thoughts

Blah: Telepathy (Remy and Harry's mental link)

'Blah': Telepathy (Mental links between others)

Chapter One

He stared with dying hope as a large object steadily grew smaller the further it flew away. His heart burned with pain and loneliness. He truly thought things had finally gone his way, that Fate finally had pity and graced him. But in one moment of despair and fear, the truth had burned bright. He had suffered many things in his life but this had been the worst.

Seeing that the figure had finally vanished from sight, solemn eyes glanced at a frozen bluish white landscape. Sighing, he twisted to find a safe warm spot. But first he had to travel through the soft crust layered above frozen ground. A crust covered with seemingly innocent white velvet dust that crunched and crumbled with a single touch, even melted rapidly beneath a warm sun, one he wished he was feeling instead of searing cold.

There wasn't a single object he could even charge to start a fire or to draw the energy from to warm his body. Then his eyes fell upon the fallen ruins of the Citadel. He stood staring at it. The Citadel. A place of bad memories. He really didn't want to enter but there might be something to keep him warm. Therefore, he eased his way through the smashed rubble, careful of unsettling parts as he passed.

As he stealthily maneuvered to the very spot that began his pain, the courtroom, his mind ran back to the horrid trial. He remembered a voice he hadn't heard in weeks. Maybe more. A voice coming from memories of his childhood. A voice that did everything to help him. A voice he still, sometimes, childishly believed not real. A voice he had faith in and trusted. A voice that called to him even now, Just hold on. I promise to save you.

Huddled closely among various metals and wires, he began leeching the free kinetic charge from them to warm his body. His mind freely began to wander to a past he barely wished to visit.

/"Shh. I'm here. You can stop now." A tiny voice murmured in his ear as he quietly sobbed.

He glanced up from beneath dark copper red strands, staring at a hazy image of a small child, seemingly his age. "Who…?" His voice was raspy with pain and tears.

The boy smiled as he crawled closer to his trembling form, "I heard you crying. Uncle be very mad to hear."

He barely controlled a flinch as the ghostly boy crept closer, but he couldn't control the jump as the ghostly fingers actually touched his arm. 'How can a ghost feel so real?' He thought his mind finally broke.

Never had he suffered illusions after a session with Master. So, why now? He wondered if Master took too much from his mind again. The last time had left him barely alive, so weak that Master slowly fed back his essence to regain his strength.

"I'm not real?"

The sorrowful question regained his attention. He hadn't realized that he said that out-loud. Didn't matter because his head still throbbed a little. Then again, he glanced at the sad face, feeling sorry for hurting the boy. Despite being an illusion, a ghost, this boy was the very first child to be nice to him. And he really wanted a friend. "I'm sorry. My head hurts."

The boy stared at him, eyes shining with tears, "I'm real?"

'Yes,' he was desperate for friendship that he was lying to a ghost. Oh but how he wished the boy was truly real and not just to the touch or his suffering reality. "Yes. My friend."

The boy smiled and snuggled close, yawning, "I'm tired."

So was he. First he'd be in pain and then he'd fall into a dreamless sleep. And for the first time ever, he had someone to cuddle, to keep him company, to be his teddy bear, "Me too."

They both scurried beneath his thick quilt and soft bed. They curled together, innocently trusting the other as they gave in to the arms of the infamous Sandman, sleeping deeply.

Months Later

For six months that was his routine. Little by little he grew to love the visits from his ghostly friend, even if they were corresponding the same nights as his sessions with Master. Thankfully, Master never questioned those memories as Master had any other time.

Still he wondered. Wondered what it was that Master searched for and drained from his mind during their monthly, though sometimes twice a month, sessions. Master would gently hold his head to stare in to his eyes and then he would feel something cold sliding through his head. Oh, he hated being cold. Despised it deeply but wouldn't struggle. He knew his place and learned his lessons after the first couple forcibly painful mind rapes.

There were the rarest sessions in between which he loved. The times when Master would ask for him and place him in Master's lap, gently petting him and cuddling him close. That was when he would be told stories, stories of how he came to the Collection, of how special he was to Master.

No one, not even Master, knew much of his birth; only that he had been abandoned from birth. It was believed his parents, maybe just his mother, had abandoned him at the hospital. He had no past, no name, and no family. All he had were the eyes of Le Diablo Blanc.

Master loved his eyes, said they were special, the reason he was brought to Master, why he was chosen. The same eyes that made it ridiculously easy for a novice Thief to steal him from the weak security beneath the watchful eyes of a Master Thief. Then hand delivered to Master.

His family consisted of Master, the Collection Mothers, and a host of children hand-picked by Master. Most of the children were older by several years, some were around his age. Then again, no one was sure what his age was since no one knew his birth date; he could have been older when dumped at the hospital or even younger. The doctors and nurses had been nervous when he was found with those eyes.

Eyes closed, he smiled as a shift of weight upon his bed interrupted his thoughts. His friend had come to visit. The boy had yet to give a name to be called by. He was beginning to wonder if his friend even had one, if his friend was like him. Until then he began calling the boy Ghost, really for obvious reasons.

It wasn't long over the rare visits that he did get a past but never a name. Ghost was a lot like him. Ghost had neither parents nor past, at least none that Ghost knew. All Ghost did know was that his parents had died in a crash while he survived, handed over to the only living family member, an Aunt, sister to his mother. But like the Collection Mothers, Ghost's family cared for Ghost but made it verbally cleared that they hated the burden. Ghost suffered his own sessions beneath the roof of his family's home, overwhelming chores and verbal abuse; some physical abuse came from being chased down by his cousin.

"You awake?" Ghost looked very tired, pain reflecting in dull green eyes.

He blinked, worried despite his sleepiness, "You okay?"

Ghost gave a tiny smile, "Tired. Worked in the garden. All day in the sun without rest, or ice water."

He held his friend close, hoping to ease the boy's pain with comfort, "I'll help."

Before sleep could claim him, he barely heard the whispered, tired promise, "I promise to save you."

Two months later

He hadn't understood that promise until two months later. Master was having his annual meeting with the same thieves who had kidnapped him from the hospital. Everyone could hear the loud voices but not the words.

Then it happened.

A fiery explosion tore through the west side of Master's Manor. The children screamed, hysterical as they ran away from the falling debris. Guards rushed forward to help any injured and trapped as well as to hurry out the escaping survivors.

Go! He heard Ghost's yell in his head. First time he ever heard the boy outside their visits. Go! Please!

And he ran. And ran. And ran.

Neither gave thought to where he could disappear. They thought of nothing but freedom or that one of them was finally free from the burden of their lives. Freedom was what they desired, wishing the other could have a taste.

He didn't slow until he couldn't breathe. Didn't stop until there was pain in his sides. Only then did he finally peer at his surroundings. He somehow made it to the heart of the city, New Orleans. Excited for a new adventure, he began to wander, ignoring some of the looks cast his way until someone spoke, "Lost, little boy?"

He blinked, "Huh?"

The woman giggled as she leaned closer, hair overly bleached and roots showing as it brushed over her shoulder in frizzy curls. Slim fingers tipped with long sharp nails reached out to caress his face, red tips glaringly bright against his pale skin as the ruby red lips curled in a slow smile, "Such a sweet boy. Need a place?"

Once again he heard Ghost, she wants something in return. He stared at her, wondering the answer, "Why?"

She blinked before regaining her seductive smile, "I won't hurt you. I'll be very good to you. As will others."

He didn't like that word or the others after it but he did need food, clothing, and shelter. Ghost didn't like his idea but grudgingly agreed. He slowly held out his hand and followed her through the dark street. In his mind echoed a promise, I promise to save you.

He smiled, holding Ghost to that promise, knowing he would always hold his imaginary friend to those words. But he feared what could and would happen to him before he was saved. Or what could delay Ghost's decision to act. After all, Ghost's family wasn't the nicest people according to the stories they shared.

Please keep that promise. I depend on you.