A young man strode down the streets of New York, not noticing all the looks he was getting. Looks of appraisal, and then appreciation… Looks from a plethora of women, and men as well… Some admiring, and some aggravated that the women they were with had openly allowed their gazes to stray from their men…

He was a tall and slender creature, with a splendidly delicious muscle structure layered on long, elegant bones, all in a sheathe of lightly tanned skin that many onlookers fantasized about running their hands over… The long legs were encased in dark blue jeans that were artfully faded in some places, and that hugged the body like a second skin. They disappeared into tall black leather steel-toed biker boots that ended just below the knee and were lined with straps and buckles. The man wore two belts… one cinched tightly around a skinny waist, and the other, larger studded belt hanging loosely around his hips, that moved with a delightful sway as he walked. A chain dangled from where it was clipped onto one of the belt loops of his jeans and draped across his hip before disappearing into the pocket of his jeans. He wore a black skintight v-neck shirt that more than showed off his chest and abs, and a brown leather jacket that fell to mid thigh.

There was a simple silver chain around his neck, a gold stud in each ear and a little smirk on his lips as he swaggered down the street. His rust colored hair fell long, to his shoulder blades, and was neatly pulled back into a ponytail at the base of his neck, though several locks of hair tumbled into his face in almost a teasing rebellion, making him that much more tempting. He had stubble on his chin and up his jawline and hid his eyes behind dark, designer shades. But his gaze was obviously focused on the phone in his fingerless-gloved hand, while the other clutched at a couple of shopping bags.

Even with his eyes cast downwards, Remy LeBeau easily navigated the crowds of New York City, crossing the street with the herd as the lights changed. He was supposed to be meeting Kitty, Jubilee, Ororo, Jean, Rogue and Betsy for lunch. They had come to the city together to do some shopping, and split up to shop for themselves. After lunch, they were going to shop together. Jean needed to get a few things for Scott, and there were a couple of birthdays coming up that they needed to shop for, too.

Right now, all Remy was thinking about was that he was hungry and he wished the girls would pick a place to meet for lunch, and that he couldn't wait to get him and give Logan the little gift he'd purchased for him. It was a new aftershave scent that that turned Remy's head the moment he caught a whiff, his mind immediately thinking of Logan… He knew that the gruff, feral man wasn't into scents, but when he realized just how attractive Remy found it on him, he would wear it. The man had been known to use scents to tease Remy when he was in the mood. Remy would just be sitting in the kitchen, chatting with the others, and Logan would walk in, grab a beer and leave… and then the scent of his aftershave would waft over Remy, making the Cajun trail off midsentence. Logan usually made it halfway up the stairs before he would hear Remy chasing after him…

The problem was, some of the others had caught onto the pattern… Logan wore a particular scent and Remy would suddenly excuse himself and the two wouldn't be seen for a while… So Remy had learned to throw them off by purchasing new scents he would find enticing on Logan, so that Logan had a variety to choose from. What Remy HADN'T told Logan was that he had already picked up on Logan's little secret pattern… Remy was starting to piece together that each scent would let him know just what kind of a mood Logan was in, and what he was in the mood for… Remy loved it. He had told Spencer about it, too. Spencer found it both very strange, and very funny. Remy had promised to teach him what each scent meant when he next came to visit. But Remy had gotten impatient. Spencer didn't get to visit much, and Remy was just too delighted by his discovery. So he had started sending Spencer letters. He would write the name of the scent, and then describe what he had learned it meant… then he would spray the scent on the paper, and mail it to Spencer. When Spencer opened the envelope and pulled out the paper, he would wave it around and then sit back and inhale the scent for a while, committing it to memory, before he would read what Remy had to say about it, and then call the Cajun and discuss it in more depth. Neither had told Logan… they were having too much fun with their little game.

Remy was snapped out of his thoughts by a sudden scream of "STOP! HE STOLE MY PURSE!" Remy's immediate thought was "Pfft… Amateur." But then he saw the victimized woman… A pretty young brunette in a pale blue blouse and kakhi capris… with braces on her legs and forearm crutches… And then the anger rose… "Vultures." Remy hissed, watching three young men running in his direction. They were tossing the purse back and forth to each other through the crowd to keep confusion high and attentions constantly shifting. Remy stopped and waited, and then, sure enough, the purse was sailing through the air. His move almost too fast to be seen, he thrust his fist into the air and caught the strap.

"… Fuck! What the hell?!" Blurted the boy whose hands had been outstretched to catch the purse. The crowd backed away, and soon Remy stood on an open area of the sidewalk with the three teenagers around him, just gawking. Remy ignored them and walked over to the edge of the crowd, where the woman was now standing, looking amazed and relieved. He handed her the purse.

"Who the hell you think you are?!" He heard one of the young men behind him snap. A moment later, Remy removed his sunglasses, ignored the several gasps around him, and set his shopping bags down. Then he turned.

"T'ink de same questions begs answerin' from you, homme. Do b'lieve dat you be de one dat jus' broke de law, non?" He raised his shields as he felt the shock sweep through the crowd that was watching, and inwardly, he scowled… a whole crowd of people and he had been the only one to raise a hand and help. No one wanted to get involved. Remy suddenly found a scene from the movie "The Bookdock Saints" in his mind… when the main characters were first seen in their church, and the words of the priest as they left the church… 'Now, we must all fear evil men. But there is another kind of evil which we must fear most. And that is the indifference of good men.'

Remy glanced around at the crowd in disdain. For a moment, he met the gaze of an older woman and her husband. Both of them froze, eyes widening when they saw his eyes. The woman actually let out a small cry and her hands flew to her face. Remy sighed inwardly, almost waiting for her to invoke the name of God. He turned back to the three teenagers, who were looking very torn about running, or attacking. Remy decided to make it easier for them to decide.

"Y' got two choices here, mes amis." He said, fishing out a deck of cards and beginning to shuffle them with a practiced hand. "Y' can either do de right t'ing, turn y'selves in an' do some community service b'fore turnin' y' lives aroun' and b'comin' respectful, productive members o' society… o' y' can run like hell… keep victimizin' people, an' wonderin' when de hell dis here Cajun's gonna show up outta de shadows and drag y' back in… never t' be seen again..." He gave them a rather evil looking grin. The boys looked around at each other. The oldest puffed out his chest and stepped forward, full of bravado to cover his nerves that Remy could plainly feel.

"Or I just kill you, man…"

"Y' really wanna try dat, homme?" Remy asked, allowing his eyes to glow as he lifted a three of hearts. The card was glowing bright pink. The teenager advanced, trying to put on a tough guy act. Remy flicked his fingers and the card landed at his feet and—

PAF!

"SHIT!" The guy yelped, jumping back at the small explosion, Now he was looking at Remy, alarmed.

"Y' got t'ree seconds, mon ami! An' dere be a squad car jus' down de block y' can go runnin' to. Make y' choice… jus' be prepared t' live wit' it!" And he raised his arms out to the side, fanning the cards open in each hand, as they all began to glow. Then, grinning, he took a step forwards.

With alarmed shouts, the boys were falling over themselves, turning tail and running like hell. The crowd watched them go, then all turned to stare at Remy.

"Dat's what I t'ought." He chuckled, withdrawing his charge from the cards and slipping them back into his pocket before turning and looking at the woman on crutches. "Y' ain't hurt, mademoiselle?" He asked reaching out and laying his hand on her lower arm. She stared up into his eyes.

"No… You… you aren't going to hurt them, are you? Drag them… into the shadows?"

The whole crowd waited breathlessly for the answer. What they got was the young man throwing his head back and letting out a rich laugh, filled with delight and bringing smiles to many faces as Remy let his Charm work on the crowd around him, to keep them calm at the presence of the mutant in their midst.

"Oh, non, cher! Can't do dat, me. Dat be what y' call a bluff. But hey… dey didn't know dat. Jus'figured dat if I uh… put de fear o' God into dem, maybe dey shape up an' play it straight from now on, non?" And he grinned and shrugged. The woman blinked in surprise, and then smiled. Laughter swept through the crowd and Remy sighed inwardly in relief. Worked like a charm… pun intended. He pat the woman on the arm, smiled and nodded, then gathered his shopping bags and went on his way, slipping his sunglasses onto his face.

Two blocks down, and his smile had faced, replaced by a frown… He was being followed. He could feel the emotions of the older couple who had reacted so viscerally to his eyes… He sighed, and took a turn into an alley. When the couple reached it, the woman gasped.

"He's gone!" She cried.

"He can't be!" The man blurted, and the couple hurried into the alley. Halfway down was a chain link fence with barbed wire on top. "He must have gone in one of the buildings…" The man said, and the couple turned, only to gasp and recoil in alarm. Remy stood in the alley before them, between them and the street, his eyes on clear display and blazing.

"O' maybe…" He drawled in a low, dangerous tone, "He wants t' know why y' be followin' him…"

The couple glanced at each other, and then the woman said, her voice shaking, "We… we have to… know something."

"An' what dat be?"

"… How old are you?"

She watched as the man's eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he couldn't hide his surprise at that question.

"Excusez-moi?" He asked, genuine confusion in his tone.

"I know it's strange! But… please!"

The man eyed her. "Uh… 'bout twenty four… I t'ink…"

"You think?" The man asked.

"Might be odd… but don't really know fo' sure, me."

The woman and her husband shared a strange glance.

"Why?" Remy asked.

After a moment, the woman swallowed and, trembling, she said, "Were you… adopted?"

"… How d'you know dat?!" Remy demanded, now very wary. His eyes darted around and he reached out with his empathy, trying to sense a possible ambush. But all he got was the building, overpowering emotions of the older couple. The woman had a hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes. Remy eyed her. She just shook her head.

The man took a deep breath, and said "Your eyes… we…" He paused, swallowed and said, "we could never forget them. A little under twenty five years ago, we… had a son. With eyes like yours. We… we were young, and scared and we ran away. And we left him… the day he was born."

Remy felt like he had punched in the gut. He lost his breath, and the world seemed to spin.

"Mon Dieu… Merde… merde…" He gasped. His body flashed hot, and then cold and back to hot again. He bent over, bracing his hands on his knees, feeling like he was going to be sick. "Dieu… Cela ne peut pas se produire…" He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make himself breathe…

It took a moment to feel the vibration in his pocket, and the ringing of his phone. He forced himself upright and pulled out his phone with shaky hands. The couple watched him answer.

"Oui." He breathed. "… Non… everyt'ing be fine. Not gon' meet ya fo' lunch. Y' on y' own. Find my own way back, me. Non. Just gotta take care o' somet'in'." And he hung up on the female voice, and turned off his phone. Then, he turned and looked at the couple, something akin to fear in his eyes.

"I think," the man said, "we should go somewhere and… talk."

Remy stood there for a long few moments, then nodded mutely.

Fifteen minutes later found the three sitting at a table in the corner of a little French bistro. While most people had wanted tables by the window, Remy had slipped the hostess a little incentive to get them the most private table in the place, and then ordered a bottle of wine. Now, he sat across from the older couple, staring into his wine glass.

The three of them had so much in their minds, they couldn't manage to pin down a single thought… they couldn't figure out what to say. It was the older man who finally spoke up.

"I'm Glen Campbell. This is my wife, Deborah." He said, and Deborah lifted her eyes to look at Remy, who was wearing his sunglasses again. She slowly reached out for his hand, resting on the table. As soon as her fingers touched him, however, he pulled his hand away.

"… Remy." He said, simply.

"Is that short for something?" Deborah asked.

"Non… just what I was called." They were silent for another moment. Remy drained his wine glass, seized the bottle and refilled it. "… Still not sure whet'er to b'lieve y' or not… so… what happened?"

The couple looked at each other, and Glen sighed. "We had been married for a couple of years. Tried to have kids, but it was a while before we… got pregnant."

"The pregnancy wasn't easy, either." Deborah admitted. "There were a few times we thought we had… lost the baby. But we didn't."

"We lived in Navasota. Texas." Glen told him. "And were planning a move to Florida. I had been given a job offer. Our belongings had been shipped and we were staying with family for the last week before we… made the move ourselves. We hoped to be settled in Florida by the time you… uh… by the time the baby was born." He noticed the flinch on Remy when he said 'you'. "But the baby had other plans. Deb went into premature labor in Navasota."

"The baby was born healthy." Deb continued. "Labor was normal. But the staff was acting odd. We were new parents. We were elated but scared. Especially with how they were acting. They wouldn't tell us what was going on. It was like they were afraid to go near the baby. And then he opened his eyes and… we saw why."

"An'… his eyes?"

"Red and black." Deb nodded. "Like yours."

"You were religious, non?"

"… Yes." Glen nodded. "We are. And… we also were not very… accepting towards the idea of… mutants."

"We panicked." Deb admitted, and she bowed her head. She was shaking. "We snuck out of the hospital with the baby, and got in the car and… just started to drive. We left town and headed for Florida. Didn't tell a soul. We just… ran."

"We made the decision as we drove." Glen said then, his shoulders drooping as he lowered his gaze to the tabletop. "We just couldn't do it. The baby frightened us. We were new parents, moving to a new city, a new state… new job, new house, new friends. Starting over. But suddenly, we had a baby that was… not normal. We stopped in New Orleans. And we… Left the baby at a hospital. Slipped into the Emergency Room, tucked him into a corner and then snuck out. And then we drove for Florida and…"

"An' started a whole new life." Remy finished for them, bitterness in his tone. "Had a new family, too?" He couldn't help but ask… his heart pounded at the idea that he might have brothers and sisters… despite his not wanting to believe this couple, he could feel it… they were telling the truth.

"Not exactly." Deb said, and Remy glanced at her. "We… we tried for more children. But getting pregnant didn't get easier. When I finally did, I miscarried. I had to have surgery and at the end of it, well… I… couldn't get pregnant again."

"That's when we… REALLY started to regret what we had done." Glen admitted. "When we were honest about being guilty."

"I was heartbroken that I wouldn't have a child of my own." Deb explained. "But I kept thinking… I DID have a child. But I had willingly given him up. I had… thrown away my only chance to…" She trailed off then, tears flooding down her face. Remy narrowed his eyes. He was finding it hard to scrape up any pity.

"We ended up adopting." Glen sighed. "Two boys and a girl. The youngest is in college now. The oldest is married and has a toddler, with another one on the way."

"… Do you have children, Remy?" Deb asked.

"… non." Remy replied as someone approached the table.

"Are you ready to order?" The waitress asked, having been dismissed earlier.

"Uh… two of the Lunch Specials." Glen told her.

"Soup or salad?"

"Salad with both." Glen told her.

"… Les crepes aux fruits de mer," Remy ordered in a subdued tone, "Wit' de French Onion soup, sil tu plait." The waitress eyed him up and down, apparently loving his accent.

"You got it…" She purred, and sashayed away with their menus. Remy, who normally would have openly flirted, forgot her the moment he had placed his order. God, he wanted a cigarette… And maybe some hard liquor… He found himself wondering why he had agreed to have lunch with the couple… he should have just walked away. But it was too late now. He was here. He had to see it through.

The three of them remained quiet as they waited for their starters, and simply studied each other, openly. As the couple examined Remy, so he examined them… He didn't want to admit it, but he could see a resemblance… the man, though aged, looked like he probably had the same body type, and though it was graying heavily, Remy could still see the rusty tones in his hair. The woman had colored her hair, but Remy could see the roots… They too were sprinkled with gray, but looked like they could have some natural auburn. If they truly were his parents, Remy could at least be glad that the man's hair wasn't thinning… he wouldn't be bald by forty, thank you God…

If they truly were his parents, if he hadn't been a mutant, he would have had soft, muted eyes… Deb showed a blue-gray, and Glen a pale green. Remy suspected that they were Scotch-Irish. Not that it mattered… He was Cajun, blood be damned…

He could see that the woman had very, very similar bone structure in her face and Remy believed that he may very well have Glen's brow and nose… the more he studied them, the more he was sure… these people were his biological parents.

"Are… dere any pictures?" Remy asked, suddenly. "A Birt' Certificate?"

"… No." Deb breathed, dropping her gaze with a look of shame. The salads and soup came then, and for a few minutes, they ate. But they were all just going through the motions… they hardly tasted a damned thing. Halfway through her salad, Deb suddenly let out a soft sob, and the two men froze.

"Remy… I… I am so… so sorry…" She gasped, and looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "I never stopped thinking about you. Never stopped wondering where you were… if you were happy… and safe and loved…" She trailed off when Remy's face darkened, and he turned away. Deb and Glen glanced at each other, dread in their eyes.

"… Please." Glen finally said. "Tell us." Remy scowled and folded his arms. "We have to know…"

"Ain't y' business…" Remy said, coldly.

"We left you…" Deb said. "Whatever happened to you is… our fault."

"Trust Remy, madame… Y' don't wanna know. An' y' can't unhear de t'ings Remy would tell ya."

"Please." She responded, her tone firm. Remy eyed her. He felt her desperation to know… and Glen's… they had to know what they had left their son to… Remy glared at them, then deflated.

"D'accord… But Remy warned y'…" He growled, pushing his nearly finished soup aside and swilling his wine in the glass as he considered where to start and what to tell them. Their anxiety grew…

"Leavin' Remy in N'Awlins left him t' spiral down into a world dat no decent, honest folk would even b'lieve to exist… Dere be underworlds… and den dere be de Underworlds o' de Underworlds. And in dose hidden circles, rumor told of de appearance of one known as Le Diable Blanc." They blinked. "De White Devil." Remy translated, and their eyes widened. It almost would have been funny, had Remy simply been an onlooker, not privy to the conversation taking place.

"Dere was dis… ol' connard called De Antiquary. He collected… ancient t'ings of knowledge and power… magics an' what not. An'… he also collected children. When he heard dat Remy was in a hospital dere in N'Awlins, he had the Thieves Guild steal le enfant. An' fo' a while, dat's where Remy was… just anot'er artifact. Anot'er piece to add to a hidden museum. But not fo' long. De Patriarch o' de Guild didn't like de idea o' le enfant bein' in de hands o' de Antiquary, and he stole Remy back. Took 'im away an' hid 'im wit' a gang o' street kids. Man by de name o' Fagan took care o' dem. An' dat's where Remy was raised."

"On the streets?!" Deb gasped in horror.

"Oui," Remy confirmed, sipping his wine and leaning back in his chair, taking a bit of satisfaction out of the emotional agony of the couple before him. "Remy be a street t'ief 'til he was 'bout ten. Dat when he got caught…" The couple eyed the pleased smirk on Remy's face. "Remy done tried t' pick de pocket of the Patriarch o' de T'eives Guild." He announced, his smirk widening to a grin. "An' o' course… Remy got caught. But Remy didn't get taken t' de cops. He took Remy home." Remy's grin changed to a soft smile, then. "And de next t'ing dis boy know… he be known as Remy Etienne LeBeau. Remy got adopted. An'… Remy had a Papa." He tossed his head back, then, pushing his hair out of his face and removing his sunglasses. It was the first time he had allowed the people sitting across from him to have an unobscured view of his face.

"Had a frere, too! Brother! Henri… An' by de time Remy was t'irteen, he had been inducted into de Guild. Grew up dere, an' b'came a Master T'ief. An' fo' a few years, dis t'ief was happy."

"I'm sensing a 'but'…" Glen said slowly.

"Oui…" Remy nodded, and conversation stalled while their lunch was delivered. They waited until the waitress was gone before continuing.

"… Remy started comin' into his mutant powers… Didn't happen easy. Got two mutations, me. Y' already saw one o' dem. Started gettin' dat at about fi'teen. De ot'er part… started showin' up 'bout a year earlier. Didn't know it was a power at first… T'ought it was jus' me. Call it m' Charm. Could… influence people… make 'em like Remy. Make 'em wanna listen… do what I tell dem. Not mind control, not'in like dat. But dere were a couple o' times when… t'ings got outta hand. A few times, Remy made someone like 'im a little too much… an… dey tried t' do t'ings to Remy… to… Force 'im…" He ignored the looks of horror on their faces.

"Henri was dere once t' save Remy's ass… figurative an' literal, bot'. An' Papa a couple times… he was de one dat realized it was Remy's mutant powers kickin' in. He made damn sure dat Remy learned t' control dem real quick… Dere were a couple ot'er times… but Remy was able t'take care o' hisself."

He looked down then, cutting into his lunch with the side of his fork, then spearing the piece and transferring it into his mouth. It was good, but he'd had better. The people across from him began to eat, mechanically.

"When Remy turned eighteen… everyt'ing changed…" He said after a bit. "See… the T'ieves ain't de only Guild in N'Awlins… Our old rivals be de ot'er Guild… De Assassins. But… Remy an' de petite femme, Bella Donna… we be childhood sweethearts." He was smiling again. "Met when we were eight… An' she was de daughter o' de patriarch o' de Assassin's Guild. An' even after Remy be a LeBeau, well… dat didn't stop us. Damned Romeo & Juliet love story was unfoldin' in de Big Easy…" He shook his head, a fond smile on his face.

"Papa an' her pere, Marius, dey come up wit' an idea… Dey decide dat de two o' us marry… bring peace to de Guilds. An' as soon as we turned eighteen… we married. She an' Remy were fine wit' it. Young as we were, we loved each ot'er… but… Her frere, Julien… he be furious. An' he couldn't take it. We had barely left de altar, were still in de church, when Julien attacked Remy an'… challenged him to a duel. Had t' accept… if Remy refused, would be dishonored… Remy's reputation be destroyed. Would never be hired as a Master T'ief again, an' dat was all I knew. So… I accepted."

He took a few more bites of his lunch, allowing all of this to sink into the two hideously normal people sitting across from him. He knew they were debating on whether or not they believed him, but he didn't give a damn. They could believe what they wanted.

"Julien," he declared, "was de better fighter wit' de rapier an' dagger. He disarmed Remy… Came in t' kill. Remy was on de floor… on his back. Did de only t'ing dere was t' do, me… T'rew my dagger at de connard. Hit 'im in de shoulder. But… didn't realize until it was too late dat Remy had… lost control again. De dagger had a charge…" He lifted his knife and it began to glow pink. Deb and Glen stared at it, even as the glow faded again. "De dagger blew up… an… Julien was killed." Remy sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Won de duel, me. But… had killed de son o' de Patriarch o' de Assassins Guild. And de Assassins… well, dey weren't too pleased. Said dat Remy usin' his mutant power, accidental o' not, was dishonorable. An' dey demanded restitution… dey demanded Remy's life."

"Papa argued wit' dem. An' so did Belle… Said dat we had married to bring a truce to de Guilds… but Julien broke it only minutes after de truce had been made. Sabotaged everyt'ing on purpose… Belle insisted dat de dishonor be Julien's. He made de challenge. His death was on his own head, not Remy's… in de end… de decision was exile. An' Remy had t' leave… de Guild, his wife, his Papa… everyt'ing he ever knew…"

"Traveled 'round afte' dat. Did some jobs. An' caught de attention o' de wrong folk. When my powers started getting' to be too much fo' Remy to control, ended up searchin' out someone who could help…" He picked up his glass and drained the wine. "Biggest mistake Remy ever made… Helped Remy get control o' his powers, but Remy had t' do a lot of t'ings he ain't proud of to pay off de debt. Dis Cajun ain't never gonna forgive himself fo'what he did, intentional or not… Y' don't need to know de details. Jus' dat… Remy be tryin' t' redeem hisself… maybe one day, dis Cajun do enough good to balance all de bad he done."

He set his fork and knife down, pulled his napkin out of his lap and set it on his half eaten lunch, finished with it. He leaned back in the chair and stared at the two before him. They stared back. Both of them looked like they were being eaten alive by their guilt.

No one noticed the figure outside the window on the street staring at Remy, before turning and lifting a phone to their face, walking away.

After a bit, Remy sighed. "Ain't gonna say it's been fun an' sunshine since Remy left N'awlins. Just been one trial after anot'er…" He leaned forward then as the waitress came to take their plates, and Remy grabbed the check before the couple even noticed it had been placed on the table. "Maybe it jus' be karma. Got a lot t' atone fo', me. But dat ain't not'in y'all need to hear 'bout." When Deb opened her mouth, Remy held up a hand. "Non."

"Remy gon' be honest. Carry a lot of anger t'wards you, me. Ain't gonna deny dat. Got no'tin but hell as a chile, all b'cause of my eyes. Le Diable Blanc… But Remy never f'get dat it all started somewhere. Wit' you. You two be de first to make a decision 'bout dis Cajun… jus' cause o' how he looked. Jus' cause his eyes be different." He leaned in close, narrowing his eyes. "Y' abandoned me. An innocent new born… ain't done nut'in. De firs' ten years o' hell? Dey on YOU." He leaned back then, satisfied with the devastated looks on their faces. "Always t'ought I'd forgiven you. Now, face to face… Remy not so sure." He grabbed the wine bottle and emptied it into his glass.

"Y' ain't dis T'ief's parents." He said, firmly. "Remy got a Papa. An' someone he loves like his Mama. Ain't you. Don't hate you… but can't love you neither. An' you should feel guilty. Fo' everyt'ing dat happened to Remy as a boy. But only fo' dat. Dere been a lot of ot'er bad stuff. But Remy ain't gonna tell ya. Because it ain't y' business an' b'cause Remy know you'll feel guilty fo' it. But you shouldn't. All de rest I ain't tellin' you? Remy made his own choices. An' a lot of dem were bad. An' Remy suffered. But dey were his own choices, oui? An' Remy ain't gonna let y' guilt y'selves over dem. De only guilt you should have be de guilt dat come from y' own choice. De one you made dat brought sufferin' on an innocent, b'fore he was too young to make his own choices." Then he had his wallet out, and was laying cash on the table.

"Remy not sure if he's happy 'bout dis meetin'." He admitted, standing. The couple stood, too. "But maybe… we all got old wounds dat can finally start to heal." He saw Deb's hand trembling, and he felt her longing. And cursing himself for breaking, he reached out, and took her hand. The relief that came from her was instantaneous. And then, Glen was gripping his shoulder. And Remy let him. Dammit… he inwardly groaned, and outwardly sighed. He knew he couldn't leave it at that.

"Remy's life been one steamin' pile o' shit afte' anot'er. Half o' dem dis Cajun brought on hisself. But fo' now… be in good place, me. Good home wit' good people. A life wit' purpose. Even people who love Remy… despite everyt'ing. Fo' now… Remy be happy."

"That's all we could hope to hear." Deb told him, tears streaming down her face. Remy tensed when she reached out, but allowed her to press a hand to his cheek, if only for a moment. He simply nodded to her, but no smile came to his face. Deb finally spoke again. "We… We would like to be able to… keep in touch. If you're okay with that?"

Remy frowned, and immediately closed himself off and stepped back, releasing Deb's hand and moving away from Glen's.

"Not sure dat would be wise." He said stiffly, and the sunglasses were back on.

"… We understand." Glen said, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, offering it. "We won't pursue it. But… if you ever decide to call… We'll be happy to hear from you."

Remy lowered his gaze to the card, and stared at it for a long time. He kept telling himself to turn around and walk away. To let it end there. But instead, he found himself reaching out and accepting the card. Then, he and Glen shared a brief handshake, he nodded to Deb, and then turned around and walked out of the restaurant. They were on his heels, but he firmly ignored them, even as he felt their gaze burning into the back of his head as they stood outside the bistro and watched him walk away.

He felt them watching when he paused, going rigid, before relief swept through him. He moved forwards now with long strides, already wanting to weep at the sight of the open arms before him, a smoldering cigar still in one of the hands. And then he was caught in the powerful embrace, even as he dropped his shopping bags and let his arms curl around broad shoulders. He hid his face in the wild black hair and inhaled the scent of his lover.

"… How?" He managed to get out.

"Rogue called me." Came the gruff response. "Said somethin' was up with ya. I came in ta town and tracked ya down. What's wrong?"

Remy just shook his head, his throat now too tight to speak. Instead, he snatched the cigar from Logan's fingers and brought it to his lips, sucking fiercely on it. Logan quirked a brow at the grimace on Remy's face as he held it in, before breathing out a plume of smoke, charging what remained of the thing and tossing it away, heedless of the alarm from people around him as it exploded with a loud PAFF!

"Come on, Cajun. Let's get ya outta here."

And Remy allowed himself to be led over to the feral's Harley. Logan made quick work of shoving Remy's purchases into the saddle bags before he climbed on. And then Remy was behind him, wrapping his arms tightly around Logan's waist and turning his head, pressing his face into the side of Logan's neck. Logan frowned, not liking what he could smell and feel from his Cajun. He turned and looked at the older couple that were still watching... the couple that had upset HIS Cajun... He narrowed his eyes and glared at them, baring his teeth and then let the roar of the engine waking cover the sound of his claws sliding out, damn the people around them. The couple looked startled, as he had intended. Then he revved the engine, sheathed his claws and gunned it, the bike roaring into traffic and weaving through it.

Deborah and Glen Campbell watched their lost son leave on the back of the bike with a frightening man who virtually radiated protective fury… and then they were gone. The couple glanced at each other, and then Glen looked down. Deb followed his gaze. The man opened his hand, revealing what Remy had pressed to his palm when they had shaken hands.

It was a playing card. The Jack of Spades.

Three blocks away, at a stop light, Logan glanced back at the russet hair on his shoulder. He didn't like the trembling he felt in his lover's body. He could smell that Remy was close to completely losing his composure.

"Rems… Talk ta me… who… who were those people?"

"Merde…." Remy breathed. "Fuck… Fuck, Logan…"

"Darlin'?" Logan probed, carefully.

"Parents."

"… What?!"

"Dey be… Remy's parents." Came the answer, in a voice that felt thin and brittle.

"… Shit." Logan breathed. "Just… stick with me, kid. Can ya hold on 'til we get—"

"Don't wanna go home, me!" Remy cried, his distress levels climbing.

"Shhh…" Logan soothed as the light turned green. "We're not. Just… Hold yerself t'gether. Gonna be a long ride."

"… Long ride… sounds good, cher." Came the murmured response, and the pair just hunkered down, and rode.

By the time they had reached their destination, it was dark and Logan was worried. Remy had kept his face hidden in his neck the entire ride. Hardly moved. And for the energetic Cajun, that was far from normal. Logan was relieved when he brought his bike to a stop and shut off the engine. After a moment, he felt Remy finally lift his head. He knew that the empath could feel where they were. His face was pale and lined, his eyes were swollen and bloodshot, and the relief that Logan saw was palpable. Logan smiled slightly and turned to face forwards as the words filled their minds...

'You know that place between sleep and awake, where you still remember dreaming?'

Even Remy smiled slightly as Logan responded, 'That's where I'll be waitin...'

'Dat's where I'll always love you.'

The front door of the building opened, and Spencer Reid came rushing out, having felt the pair arrive. He had been waiting for them, after Logan called to tell him that something was wrong… that something had happened to Remy.

Already, Remy was off the bike and hurrying forwards. Logan watched as the pair met, catching each other up in a strong embrace, relief surrounding them both. Spencer said nothing as he stepped back, he just rested his hands on Remy's cheeks and studied the older man, concern thick in his own brown eyes. Then he just said "Come on… hot shower first." And Remy just nodded, and allowed himself to be guided into the apartment building.

Three hours later, and the three of them, showered and in pajamas, were all sitting in Spencer's living room, hot mugs of cocoa in their hands. Remy had distanced himself from the other two, curling up in the arm chair, while Spencer and Logan sat on the sofa. The room was dimly lit. All lights were off, the only source of light came from Spencer's fireplace, and the little colored bubbles of light that Spencer had willed into existence… fairy lights, as some of the girls at the Xavier School had named them.

Remy had just finished telling the other two about everything that had transpired that afternoon. Logan glanced at Spencer, then sighed.

"… Do ya wanna call em?" He finally asked. All gazes fell to the business card sitting on the coffee table.

"Non." Remy whispered. "Don't know why Remy even took de card, me." He sighed and huddled down a bit further into the blanket that he was cocooned in. "Dis Cajun done said all he got to say t' dem. Don't ever wanna see dem again. Don't wanna speak t'dem, don't wanna know 'bout deir lives…" He gasped and shuddered, bowing his head and hiding his face. The Wolverine watched him sadly… he could smell his Cajun's tears.

"… Then it's gone." Spencer told him, reaching out and taking the card from the table, then turning and flicking the thing. Remy's eyes followed it as it spun through the air and landed in the fire, it's edges turning brown and curling before charring and falling away as the flames consumed the thing.

'What if he changes his mind later?' Logan thought to Spencer, careful to keep Remy from 'hearing'.

'Eidetic memory, Logan. All he has to do is ask.' Spencer responded with a shadow of a smile. Logan gave him an admiring smirk, and then they both turned their attention back to Remy. The three sat in silence for a very long time.

Spencer was the one who broke it when he noticed Remy's glazed eyes were drooping. "Come on…" He whispered, moving over to the chair and taking the empty mug from Remy's hands. "Let's go to bed." Remy allowed himself to be guided to his feet, and while Spencer took Remy back to the bedroom, Logan took care of the fire.

He joined his lovers back in the bedroom. Remy was curled up on his side, Spencer behind him, gently running his fingers through Remy's hair. Logan slid between the sheets in front of Remy, immediately going to wrap his Cajun up in his arms, as Spencer spooned him from behind.

No one said a word as the first sob tore past Remy's lips. They just moved in and held him, safe and secure, as he cried himself to sleep… and long after…