Remy returned to New Orleans. This was his place, his city and nothing would ever change that. There was something liberating about returning to New Orleans without the threat of Creed or Stryker hanging over his head anymore.
Sure, Xavier had offered him to go with the other prisoners but Remy had declined just as he knew that some of the others would soon leave Xavier as well.
Emma had her sister waiting for her somewhere; she said that often enough as did Pietro and Sean had his little girl if Stryker didn't get to her first.
Hank would probably stay with Xavier, maybe Mortimer and Janos...who knew? Remy knew nothing about the man, no one did since he didn't or couldn't talk.
Still, he wasn't surprised when Janos wound up in New Orleans as well.
He stood out in the crowd, well dressed as he was. His suit probably cost more than the whole bar wherever and however he could afford it. Remy was in no position to question other people's way of living.
He finished his game before walking over to the bar. No high stakes tonight, not in this dive. But the news had announced Stryker's survival and Remy wanted to keep a low profile for the time being.
"Bourbon," he ordered, before turning to Janos. "What brings you to this fair city?"
I'm looking for someone He had written on a napkin.
"Not me?" Janos shook his head. "I'm hurt." Remy grinned. "Who are you looking for?"
Azazel
"Never heard that name. What makes you think he's here?"
Mardi Gras
Easier for him to hide
"So he looks like a freak?" Janos' lips thinned and his eyes darkened. Remy played with a card, his eyes flashing bright red in the dim bar light.
"So I guess you need a place to stay for the next two weeks?" When Janos slid the napkin back to him there was a hundred dollar note underneath it.
No pity
"We live through the same thing. Pity is the last thing on my mind." Remy laughed at him, sliding the note back to him. "Keep that. Buy your own groceries. I'm not cooking."
Janos raised his eyebrows for a second as if to say I didn't think you would
/
There was something uneasy about living in close quarters with another person again. Not that Remy saw much of Janos since he tended to get up early and go to bed early where Remy did the opposite but the presence of someone else in his flat was still there.
Not enough to trigger the nightmares, but enough to make him stay out longer, sleep in other people's beds when possible.
Mardi Gras always brought new people into town, tourists who only saw the lights and the colours and remained ignorant of how different things were down here.
Remy loved Mardi Gras, not least because those tourists filled his pockets nicely, money he immediately spent. There was always a new game that interested him if only for the players or something beautiful that caught his eye. Remy liked beautiful things, nothing flashy but the subtlety that showed wealth and taste.
The same subtlety Janos possessed.
Remy was not a blind man. Janos was a beautiful man and knew it, acted with that knowledge. And yet his silence was like a shield between him and the rest of the world. Remy had never heard him scream, not even when the guards dragged him upstairs by his hair. Remy wondered if that was the reason he wore it tied back tightly now.
/
"How will your friend find you?" Remy asked before they left for the parade. He wore purple, green and gold, the colours of the day. Janos wore his expensive suit again after having borrowed clothes from Remy for the past two weeks.
He knows me
Remy shrugged because that was an answer as well as any other.
No one came for Janos. No freak, no human, no one approached him. Remy discreetly kept an eye on Janos while he flitted through the crowd, relieving heedless tourists of their money and one or two beautiful pieces of jewellery.
/
"I'm sorry your friend didn't show," Remy said when they walked back home the next morning, through empty streets and the toll of bells mourning Mardi Gras and calling the people to Ash Wednesday mass.
Janos nodded but his face was closed, there was no other word for it. As if he didn't want Remy to see what he was thinking, feeling.
Remy changed his clothes to a sombre black when Janos knocked on his bedroom door and gestured to his wardrobe.
"Suit yourself." Janos dressed quickly with the ease of a man long used to hurry and for once he let his hair fall open over his shoulders.
Remy was not a religious man and even if he had been it had been too easy to lose faith in Stryker's hell but he wasn't unreligious either. His faith was part of him, part of his culture. Not many people would have understood but Janos did. He went down to his knees with the same practiced ease that Remy did and followed the rituals without missing a beat.
/
Remy walked home alone and fell asleep, only waking up when it was already dark and he could smell smoke and see fire from his window. For a moment Remy didn't recognise him but then saw that the man in street who stood next to the fire was Janos.
Janos was still dressed in the clothes Remy had given him this morning but his hair was cut short and in the firelight his eyes seemed brighter than ever, almost shining as red as Remy's.
"You could have sold the suit if you didn't want it anymore." Remy said once he saw what it was that Janos was burning.
Janos shook his head with a small smile playing around his lips. It was the first smile Remy had ever seen on his face.
"What are you going to do now?" Remy asked, stepping closer to Janos. "You can stay if you want." Getting used to live with someone would take time but this was lent, time to chase away old ghosts.
Janos shook his head again and in lack of paper he took Remy's hand to write
New life
Into his palm, letter for letter.
/
The next night Remy watched the harbour from his balcony, a freighter leaving for the Near East heading out into the growing darkness, a new, silent sailor on board. The wind that had been absent from the city for the past days swept in and carried away the last remnants of Mardi Gras and the ashes that followed it out to the sea.
"Adieu, mon ami," Remy said to the wind, before heading back inside, the strange, short interlude of his life done.
