No Such Thing As Coincidence.

Morning…

Soft light filtered in through the gauzy curtains, waking Harper. He sat up and stretched lazily. Curled up next to him was Christopher, his arm and leg thrown over Remy. They were both snoring lightly. Some time during the night, Christopher had crawled out of the daybed Remy had bought special for him, and climbed under the covers with them. Harper gazed down at his son with awe. Harper had lost his heart to the little boy the moment he'd held him in his arms for the first time. And every morning since, he looked at Christopher with a sense of wonder, and was filled with the most perfect love for him.

Carefully, Harper slipped out of bed. He took a moment to watch the two people he loved most in the world, so peaceful in sleep, snoring away in unison, then padded softly downstairs to the kitchen. He took a peek inside the fridge, saw that it had been well-stocked just prior to their arrival, and began pulling out items to cook for breakfast. Next up: coffee. Harper decided to double up on the grounds, assuming that the others were also nursing a hangover.

Harper pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't drink very often, and he'd done plenty of it last night. A low throb played a steady beat behind his eyes. He found some aspirin in the cabinet, ate three of them, chasing them with a large glass of water. He checked the coffee, and made a "hurry it up" gesture with his hands. He'd developed a serious coffee habit since meeting Remy, and blamed him for it.

As he began cracking eggs in a bowl, Harper felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Goosebumps lifted on his arms, and a chill danced up and down his spine, making him shudder involuntarily. Surprised, he closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to feel whatever it was that had triggered this odd sensation. It was like trying to see something out of the corner of his eye, there for a moment, then gone. He'd experienced this sensation from time to time ever since losing his empathic gift. It was like a tiny echo of it, and it confused and frustrated the hell out of him. He could never pinpoint what exactly he was feeling, or its source.

The strange sensation faded away, leaving Harper feeling empty again. Determined not to let the depression swallow him up again, he shoved the darkness down, and went back to prepping the food.

"What you doin', cher?" Remy said as he joined Harper in the kitchen, Christopher in his arms.

"Cooking breakfast, what does it look like I'm doing?" Harper didn't look up from the cutting board. Remy frowned; he could sense Harper's deep frustration, and understood the reason.

Remy set Christopher down in one of the kitchen chairs and hugged Harper from behind. He rested his chin on Harper's shoulder. "Smells good." He kissed Harper's ear, then poured them both a big cup of coffee.

"You want some juice, honey?" Remy asked, opening the fridge. "Got some grape juice…"

"The purple kind?" Christopher asked. He was a complete fiend for the stuff.

"Oui, de purple kind." Remy poured a glass and set it down on the table. He turned back to Harper and leaned in close to him.

"You alright dere, Boo?" Remy said softly, his voice pitched low. "What's got you so spooked?"

Harper sighed, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Had that weird feeling again. Like someone's watching me."

"Maybe there's ghosts, Daddy!" Christopher piped up from his chair. Sometimes, even Harper forgot that his son had inherited his keen sense of hearing.

"Busted again," Remy muttered. "Dem boy's ears are like satellite dishes."

Harper couldn't help but laugh. "I told you." He wiped his hands on a dishtowel. "Christopher, how would you like to go wake up everyone and tell them breakfast will be ready in a bit?"

"WOOOO!" Christopher jumped down off his chair and made a bee-line for the stairs.

"Dat was mean, petit," Remy said, chuckling. Christopher's favorite way to wake anyone was to jump wildly up and down on their bed. Moments later, they heard Lee shouting down the stairs:

"NOT COOL!"

This was followed by the screeching laughter of two excited little boys, and the sound of their feet running down the hall, presumably to where Bobby and Amadeo were sleeping.

Harper was just finishing up breakfast when the rest of the crew joined them in dining room. Remy helped spread out the family-style meal. As he set a large platter of scrambled eggs down in front of Amadeo, he couldn't help himself, and teased him mercilessly about his obvious hangover.

Amadeo looked a little green, and pushed his empty plate away. "I think I'll stick to coffee for now," he muttered, staring into his cup. Bobby laughed and proceeded to pile food on his plate. Amadeo rolled his eyes. "Nothing affects your appetite, does it?"

"Nope." Bobby shoveled a fork-full of eggs into his mouth. "I can handle my alcohol."

"That's not the impression I got last night when you were puking your guts out over the toilet begging me to make it stop," Amadeo shot back. Bobby sat there, open-mouthed, stunned that Amadeo had said that.

Jono laughed hard. *We could hear yer chucking from our room.*

"Unpleasant." Lee made a goofy face. She picked up her water bottle full of donor blood and sipped on it. Luckily for the others, they couldn't see the thick, red liquid inside. As pale as Amadeo was, the sight might have been enough to send him grabbing for the nearest empty container to vomit into.

Bobby gave Amadeo the Stink Eye. "Can't believe you ratted me out, 'Deo."

After breakfast, they broke up to spend the day sightseeing. Amadeo and Bobby took the Audi and headed for the French Quarter, while Jono, Lee and Shogo took the BMW to downtown New Orleans. Remy, Harper and Christopher were going on a walking tour of the Garden District.

They bundled Christopher up in his coat and headed out of the house. Outside, it was sunny and clear, but cold. Still, better than winter in New York. They walked throughout the neighborhood, Christopher between then, holding their hands. He gabbled on at a pretty steady pace, commenting on everything and everyone he saw.

They were touring one of the grand mansions when Remy realized that a couple - a man and a woman - had been discreetly following them. Remy exchanged a look with Harper. Harper nodded, indicating that he'd noticed them, too. He experienced that same, odd sensation that he had while making breakfast every time they'd gotten close.

"Maybe it's time we head home, neh?" Remy scooped Christopher up into his arms and held him close, protectively.

"Aww..Papa!" Christopher frowned. "Already?"

"Well, I reckon it's time for lunch," Remy soothed. Christopher, always happy to eat, nodded vigorously. He tucked his head against Remy's shoulder and seemed to doze off.

Harper cast a quick look over his shoulder at the couple, then back at Remy. "No such thing as coincidences, love." Remy nodded his agreement.

As they were walking back to Remy's house, Christopher broke his silence. "Daddy, are we leaving because of the bad people?"

Remy tried to hide both his surprise and his fear. "What bad people, petit?" Remy asked, trying to sound unconcerned. The last thing he wanted was for Christopher to pick up on the sudden dread he felt. Harper was watching Christopher closely, waiting.

"That man and that woman. They felt mean." Sudden tears came to Christopher's eyes. "They scared me a little."

Remy made a little hissing noise, and picked up the pace. He wanted to get Harper and Christopher back to the house, back to safety, and quick.

"Honey...could you hear their thoughts?" Harper asked gently as they turned the corner and headed down the street leading to Remy's.

"No...just...they felt bad. They made me feel bad." Tears slipped down Christopher's face. "I'm sorry, Daddy." He lifted his face and looked at Remy. "You feel a little angry, Papa. Did I do a bad thing?"

"Hush y'self now, petit. You didn't do not'ing wrong." Remy hugged him tight. He handed Christopher off to Harper, keyed in the security code for the front door of his house. Harper hustled Christopher inside. They didn't discuss the incident any further, and sat down to a quiet lunch. After, rubbing his eyes, Christopher laid down on the couch and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. Remy pulled a blanket over him and sat down on the loveseat with Harper.

"He's an empath," Harper said without preamble. "I've suspected it for a while."

Remy nodded. "I t'ink so too. And he was right about dem two. Dey was followin' us, and dey weren't friendly." He pressed a kiss to Harper's furrowed brow. "Don't you worry none, mon amour. Ain't gonna let nobody hurt our little boy."

Downtown New Orleans

Jono - carrying Shogo in a backpack carrier - and Lee had just finished visiting another museum when Jono noticed something odd. The same two men had shown up at each place they'd stopped throughout the day. Jono took Lee's arm and pulled her close.

*Try not ter stare, luv...but those two blokes? They been following us all day.*

Lee looked around, casual, let her attention fall briefly on the two men, then leaned her head on Jono's shoulder.

"How about we get some lunch? I saw a little cafe just down the block." She gave Jono a look that let him know she had seen them, too.

They walked, arm and arm, down to the cafe and, despite the chill, decided to sit on the patio. They both ordered coffee, to give the appearance of normalcy, though all they did is use the hot brew to warm their hands.

*We're being followed, no doubt about it now,* Jono said, making a small gesture with his head. The strange duo were across the street, sitting on a bench, trying to act like they were supposed to be there. One was reading a newspaper. Jono chuckled at that; who did they think they were? A couple of gumshoes from some bad noir detective movie?

"Amateurs," Lee said, grinning. "It would be funny if it didn't piss me off so bad. We finally get a vacation, and a couple of idiots decide to stalk us."

*Maybe it's me phenomenal good looks, eh?* Jono joked.

"I'm pretty sure it's me. They probably think I'm someone famous...a movie star or something."

Jono rolled his eyes at that. *Yer beautiful, luv, no doubt. But I don't think them wankers are fans.* He narrowed his eyes. *Wonder what they want?*

"Why don't we go ask?" Lee said, a wicked look on her face.

*Ah, this is why I love yer, Lee.* Jono stood and held out his hand. *Shall we?*

Giggling, Lee took his hand and let him help her stand.

*Hold on now, little man* Jono sent to Shogo. Shogo laughed in answer, and took hold of the collar of Jono's leather jacket, holding tight. Lee linked arms with Jono and waited for a break in the traffic. When the coast was clear, they began to cross. The man reading the newspaper, the bigger of the two, looked up, saw them heading toward them, and nudged his companion. The smaller man nodded in acknowledgment. He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a very small cellphone, hitting a button. For a moment, the two seem to shimmer, enveloped in what looked like heatwaves coming off a hot sidewalk, then disappeared in a flash of blue light.

Jono came to a skidding stop just feet from where the men had been just a second before.

*Where the flamin' 'ell did them two wankers go?* He looked around, confused. *They were right here!*

"Nice trick," Lee muttered. She picked up the newspaper the bigger man had been pretending to read. It was a copy of The Baton Rouge Post. "Got an idea where they might have gone, though."

Jono shuddered; something about the men gave him the creeps, beyond the fact that they'd just vanished into thin air. *Maybe would should get back to Remy's. Don't 'ave a very good feeling about this, luv.*

Bourbon Street, The French Quarter

Amadeo finished loading the last of his purchases into the trunk of the Audi, carefully arranging them to keep anything from being crushed. He was quite pleased with himself; it was the first time he'd ever been able to go Christmas shopping, and he'd spared no expense.

"So what did you get me?" Bobby asked, trying to look in one of the bags. Amadeo smacked his hand.

"None of your business, Nosy Parker. And if I catch you peeking again, I'll give it all to Jono."

"You're so mean to me, 'Deo," Bobby teased. Amadeo snorted, and shut the trunk. "So what's for lunch, Mr. Moneybags?"

Amadeo laughed at that. True, he made a decent salary as the Medical Assistant in the Xavier School's clinic. In the months since he'd begun training under Danny, his skills as a healer had improved dramatically. "I thought we'd try this place." He pointed to the bar and grill the street. "The nice man at the art gallery recommended their Po Boy sandwiches."

"That 'nice man' was flirting with you," Bobby countered. "I could have been invisible for all he noticed me."

Amadeo looked genuinely surprised. "Oh, he was not. He was just being helpful."

"Pfft. Whatever, 'Deo. You wouldn't know if someone was flirting with you if they took their clothes off and danced naked around you." Bobby wrapped his arm around Amadeo's waist and kissed him, a gesture that telegraphed to anyone else who might be looking just who, exactly, Amadeo was with.

"You're cute when you get all territorial, you know that?" Amadeo teased as they walked into the bar. It was dark and a little smoky inside, the perfect intimate little place that Bobby was hoping it would be. It was surprisingly busy, and they had to wait at the bar for nearly half an hour before a table was ready for them.

They were shown to their table, a cozy spot for two. The waiter recommended their specialty: Oysters on the half shell as an appetizer, and Po Boys with their home-made coleslaw and steak fries. Amadeo ordered the fried shrimp and oyster sandwich, while the less-adventurous Bobby went with the roast beef. He also ordered a mug of local microbrew beer, though Amadeo abstained, opting for sweet tea instead. He was driving; not only that, but after the amount of bourbon he'd drunk the night before, the thought of anything alcoholic made his stomach turn.

Their waiter, Phillipe, flirted with Amadeo shamelessly. After he'd gone to put in their order, Amadeo couldn't help but laugh. "You roll your eyes any harder, Robert, and you'll be able to see your cute little ass."

"Being the boyfriend of the world's most handsome man has it's challenges," Bobby said, sipping from his beer. "Though, it does have its advantages, too. It's good for my ego, everyone looking at you, and knowing you're with me."

Amadeo smiled at that. "That was really sweet, Bobby." He leaned over and gave him a quick kiss.

"Lord, y'all make the most beautiful couple. People in love always do," Phillipe drawled as he brought them their lunch. "Don't suppose either one of you have a brother?"

Bobby shook his head. Amadeo gave an apologetic smile. "I do, but he's taken."

Phillipe sighed dramatically. "Figures. The good ones are always taken. Now, enjoy. I'll be back to check on you as soon as I can. We're pretty busy, and the other waiter called in sick. If you need a refill on your drinks, you can always go to the bar if you don't want to wait."

They dove into their lunch. "Wow, this is fantastic," Bobby said. "What are these called again?"

Amadeo checked his tourists' guidebook "Po Boys are a traditional Louisiana sandwich served on freshly-baked New Orleans-style French bread. Very popular. The origin of the name is unclear, but probably has to do with them originally being an inexpensive but filling meal usually made with…"

Bobby held up his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Answer Man." He smiled indulgently at Amadeo. There was something definitely charming about Amadeo's almost childlike wonder at even the most mundane things. Not surprising, considering he'd spent his entire life hidden away, a slave created to serve every whim and desire of their human owners. Sometimes, Amadeo would cry out in his sleep, terrified by some nightmare. Bobby would just hold him as he wept after, feeling so frustrated and helpless, wishing he could make Amadeo's pain disappear. It always rekindled Bobby's anger at what had been done to the sweet and gentle man that had captured his heart.

"I'm going to get a refill. You want another tea?" Bobby asked, standing. Amadeo nodded, then glanced over at Phillipe.

"Probably better go to the bar. Poor Phillipe is swamped," Amadeo said. Bobby looked at the crowd at the bar, almost three deep in places, and sighed.

"Might be a few minutes. You going to be alright here on your own?" Bobby asked. While Amadeo had proven he was able to defend himself in extreme circumstances, he was still quite naive about the world, and easily intimidated by any aggressive overture toward him. It was due to more than just his experiences as a slave; he'd literally been designed to be passive, to submit to humans, no matter how cruel or capricious the demand.

"I'll be fine. And you'll only be a few feet away."

Bobby relaxed, and gave Amadeo a sweet, passionate kiss. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Amadeo watched him maneuver through the crowd, finding a spot in line. After a few minutes, Amadeo looked around for the restroom. He spotted it in the far corner of the bar, and made his way there. As he passed by Phillipe, he touched him on the arm, getting his attention.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but if you have a chance, would you let my boyfriend know I've gone to the mens room?"

Phillipe gave him a brilliant smile. "Of course I will, sugar. Just watch yourself with this crowd; they're mighty grabby today. I nearly dumped an entire pitcher of lemonade on some pig after he pinched my ass."

Amadeo frowned; he didn't like the idea of someone touching the young man without his consent. He made a mental note to quietly tell the manager that his employee was being manhandled by the patrons.

The restroom was small, but clean, just three stalls on one side, a row of urinals on the other, and a pair of sinks. Being a shy man, Amadeo took one of the stalls, surprised that none were taken. As he emptied his bladder, he heard the restroom door open, and some gruff whispers, followed by the door opening and closing several times in quick succession.

Amadeo exited the stall and went to the sinks. Standing at the urinals were two burly men dressed in long, black overcoats, their heads covered by hats and their faces hidden behind thick scarves. He felt a moment of nervousness, then chided himself for being paranoid. As he turned the water on, he felt a heavy hand drop on his shoulder, forcefully turning him around. He gasped, surprised. He hadn't seen either of them move; in the blink of an eye, they were both standing right next to him, much too close, invading his personal space.

"Excuse me," Amadeo whispered, trying to move away from them. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, and he caught the smell of his own fear-sweat. "Please, leave me alone. I don't want to hurt you."

One of the men, the one wearing a black fedora, leaned in close, his face almost touching Amadeo's. His breath stank like something evil, like he was rotting from the inside out.

"Oh, you're going to hurt us, pretty boy?" He laughed cruelly. He turned to his companion. "Got me shakin' in my boots." He looked back at Amadeo. "Just want to have a friendly chat with you, that's all."

Amadeo felt his stomach turn as the other man attached a small metal object to the door.

Fedora-man laughed again. "That'll give us some privacy. Don't want anyone interrupting the business we have with you. Amadeo, isn't it?"

"I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to," Amadeo hissed, raising his hand. It hovered near Fedora-man's chest. As much as he loathed using his power as a biomorph to harm, he was prepared to defend himself. The man moved fast, grabbing both Amadeo's wrists in with his gloved hands, pinning them above his head.

"Don't even try it, pretty-boy. We know all about what you can do," he spat. "Now you just settle down. We've got a message we want you to deliver to Remy LeBeau. Now, if you yell for help, this is just a taste of what I'll do to you."

Amadeo felt a sharp, intense pain rocket through his body, and he couldn't help crying out. He had no idea what Fedora-man had just done to him, but whatever it was, it hurt like hell and left him gasping for air. It was like being kicked in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. The other man wound his fingers in Amadeo's thick hair and yanked his head up.

"Now listen up…"

Bobby finally got his drink order filled and started back to their table. Seeing Amadeo gone, he felt a moment of panic. He couldn't see him anywhere in the bar. Phillipe, seeing Bobby's concern, hurried on over.

"You looking for your boyfriend? He's in there," Phillipe said, pointing at the mens room.

"How long has he been in there?" Bobby asked, setting down the drinks. He experienced a very intense sense of foreboding.

Phillipe checked his watch. "About fifteen minutes, but I'm sure he's…" Phillip didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. Seeing a line outside the restroom, Bobby brushed past him and made a bee-line for it.

The guy at the head of the line shook his head. "Get in line, buddy. Some asshole locked the door. Manager's gone to find the key."

"Oh fuck that," Bobby snapped. Not caring what anyone thought, he iced up. The only thing on his mind was Amadeo. He knew there was something wrong. The crowd made a collective ooooh sound and made room for him. Bobby froze the brass handle, shattering it, then nearly yanked the door off its hinges. He saw Amadeo bent over at the waist, blood dripping from his nose, clutching his abdomen. Two huge men in overcoats were stood over him. Fedora-man had a hold of Amadeo's arm, his fist raised as if preparing to strike.

"Get your fucking hands off him!" Bobby growled. He was hesitant to send a wave of ice at them, afraid of harming Amadeo in the process.

They both looked at Bobby, and seemed unconcerned. Fedora-man gave him a smart salute before they both disappeared in a flash of light. Bobby caught Amadeo as he slid to the floor.

"It's alright, 'Deo...I've got you," Bobby soothed, holding him close. He saw the blood from Amadeo's nose and felt a surge of anger. "How bad are you hurt?"

Amadeo choked back his fear, and raised his tear-streaked face. "We have to go, Bobby, right now! We have to get back to Remy's!"

Bobby felt a tightening in his gut. He didn't argue, just helped Amadeo to his feet. As he half-carried his lover out of the restaurant, he stopped long enough to dig out his wallet and press a fifty dollar bill into Philippe's hand. "Sorry, gotta run."

Phillipe stared at them, was horrified by the blood on Amadeo's face and shirt. "Oh my God…"

Bobby didn't wait, just got Amadeo to their car. He gave him a quick kiss, steered the Audi into traffic, and hit the gas, his only thoughts for Amadeo, and getting him back to the safety of Remy's house.