New Orleans, Louisiana
The Past, Twenty-Six Years Ago
That Night
"Welcome to the Medical Center of Louisiana...Where The Unusual Occurs & Miracles Happen."
The thief brushed his fingertips along the smooth marble as he passed beneath those stainless-steel letters mounted on the wall. He was here at Charity Hospital to encounter an unusual occurrence, a miracle, of his own. The thief walked down the semi-darkened corridor, his footsteps silent on the worn green and tan linoleum floor. The hall was lined on either side with yellowed subway-tiles, the gloss long worn off their smooth surfaces. Iron light fixtures let off a low golden glow that reflected on silver railings which curved gracefully around and down stairways. This charming, historic building with Art Deco details had presided over this section of New Orleans since its construction by the WPA in the 30s, serving the university students in their training and the local low-income residents who otherwise would have nowhere to turn for care. The hospital had the busiest emergency-room in the country. Not necessarily a point of pride, as many of the patients brought here were victims of gunshot wounds, suffered from stabbings, or had succumbed to drug addiction. People were taken here at the brink of death; tonight some would die. Tonight, one would live, his future secure.
The hospital was large; one of the tallest buildings in the city. In this section of the building, it was quiet. The thief was some ways away from the chaos of the ER. He paced down halls with the air of a man well-acquainted with his surroundings, drawing no attention to himself in his appropriated attire: nondescript overalls of maintenance and service workers that made him invisible to the hospital staff around him. He carried with him a scuffed metal toolbox, though its contents contained little to perform repairs. Quite the opposite, in fact. The tools inside were intended for breaking-in rather than fixing-up. In this particular case, the thief would be breaking out once his pinch was procured...the precious item stolen from its legal if not rightful owner.
The maternity ward was strangely charged with nervous energy. Clusters of hospital staff gathered and spoke in hushed, excited voices. One of the nurses glanced over her shoulder at the thief and just as quickly dismissed him as if he were not there at all. She resumed her conversation with another uniformed caregiver. Their faces were close in heated conversation, though the thief could read the whispered words on her lips: it has the eyes of a devil.
The thief felt a surge of trepidation blossom in his mind as he passed by the window overlooking the newly-born infants. The plastic-walled cradles inside the room were vacant, save one. A cluster of doctors in lab-coats or scrubs hovered over the infant inside, seemingly at an impasse as to what to do next; holding clipboards, scratching heads, pointing accusingly at one another. The thief's eyes quickly assessed each of the doctors, his stomach tightening with nerves. This was a new experience; he'd never been nervous while on a job before. None of the doctors inside the nursery seemed at all eager to physically assess the infant. Instead they hung back, as if the infant before them carried some contagion. The thief would have to act quickly, but not while the child was under such close scrutiny. He knew he had a narrow window of time in which to work.
The thief left the nursery behind and passed through a doorway into a patient's room. A curtain had been drawn across the room's center, shielding the occupants from inquiring eyes. A soft murmur of voices came from behind the curtain. The thief set down his toolbox just outside the curtain, the small sound it made as it touched the floor alerted the room's occupants to his presence. Their voices silenced and the curtain was twitched open slightly as if by an invisible hand. The thief took this as an invitation and slipped behind the curtain.
She was there, as promised. A soft light cascaded down from behind her head, creating a halo of red on her hair. A man stood at her side, his tall form silhouetted against the window behind him. Acid yellow light from the street lamps outside hung in beads on the rain-speckled window. There came a low rumble of thunder. Though they had only just met a week ago, it was if they'd known one another for some time.
~oOo~
New Orleans, Louisiana
The Past, Twenty-Six Years Ago
A Week Before
Jean-Luc was just leaving the sidewalk café when he felt the tell-tale tug on his coat that signalled he was about to have his pocket picked.
Who would dare? he thought, his reaction was instantaneous. His arm snapped back reflexively, catching the wrist of his assailant. Holding fast, he turned to see a young man seated at a café table. In his hand was Jean-Luc's billfold. On his mouth, a smile.
"Sho', but you are quick," the young man said. "You could teach me a thing or two."
Jean-Luc stared at his twin reflections on the lenses of the man's sunglasses. He could see his own face was betraying no small amount of surprise.
"D'you know me, Jean-Luc?" the man asked.
Jean-Luc released his grip on the man's wrist. "I do," he stammered, searching his faulty memory. "You saved me, from Candra, when I was a boy."
The man nodded. "You remember?" he asked. He gestured for Jean-Luc to take a seat across from him. Jean-Luc sat slowly and the man returned the wallet by pushing it across the top of the green painted wrought-iron table.
"I recall some," Jean-Luc said, searching the man's face. In truth, Jean-Luc recalled more than he wanted to admit. "Your name...escapes me."
"Remy," the man replied. He removed his sunglasses, revealing the haunting eyes Jean-Luc saw a hundred years ago.
"But you look just de same. De Elixir of Life…?" Jean-Luc speculated.
Remy raised and lowered his shoulders.
Jean-Luc continued slowly: "I remember that after you saved me, I repaid you with betrayal."*
"Oh yeah," Remy said, and laughed. He rubbed the back of his head. "Now you're makin' me remember!"
Jean-Luc couldn't believe the man could be so glib. "I struck you in de back of de skull and left you for dead. You have no idea how much I have regretted that ill-thought decision. When you offered me such hope for a better..."
"We'll chalk it up to youthful indiscretion," Remy said. "Let's not let our bad decisions define us. What defines us is what we do to set things right."
Jean-Luc closed his eyes and shook his head. With a soft exhalation of disbelief, he replaced his billfold in his coat pocket. "How can I set things right, Remy?"
Remy paused, as if considering. "I was hopin' you might help me," he said finally.
Jean-Luc brought his blue gaze back to meet Remy's black and red one. "Yes," he said simply.
Remy held up a hand, as if to stop Jean-Luc. "Before you agree. Didn't you just say how much you regretted your hasty decision making?"
"Very well," Jean-Luc said. "Tell me what it is I'm agreeing to."
"How about I show you?" Remy asked.
~oOo~
New Orleans, Louisiana
The Past, Twenty-Six Years Ago
That Night
Jean-Luc glanced at the silent form in front of the window, but Remy's expression remained indiscernible in the darkness. The thief could feel the weight of the young man's steady red gaze upon him. The look on the woman's face was kind, grateful. The thief wanted to look into the face of the infant bundled in her arms, to see him whole and well.
"How is he?" Jean-Luc asked.
The woman reached a hand to Remy. The man at her side took her hand and held it, pressing it firmly in an offer of reassurance. "Officially discharged," the woman said. "Doing better. Thank you."
"Is it time...?" Jean-Luc asked her.
She nodded wordlessly.
Jean-Luc walked to the woman and lightly set his hand upon her shoulder. Now the thief could see the baby's face. The infant's tiny arm had escaped the swaddling and rested just under his chin. He had the scrunched-up face of a newborn, not unlike that of a very old man. The baby's eyes appeared wide and watchful, and an odd, pale red color. Jean-Luc's own eyes sought out Remy's. Remy and the infant shared little resemblance; Remy's eyes were a mutation, Jean-Luc had learned. The infant's eyes were the result of a genetic disorder, albinism.
"You'd best get on with it," Remy said.
"You'll find the nursery empty," the woman told him, her voice a whisper.
"You have a few minutes at least," Remy added.
The thief nodded. After a moment's hesitation, he reached out to touch the infant's soft white hair. He just as quickly took his hand away.
"Are you ready t'go home?" Remy asked the woman. She nodded in response.
The thief backed up a few paces toward the curtain before turning to leave. He moved to lift the curtain aside when he felt a flash of heat at his back and the sudden change in atmospheric pressure made his ears pop. He glanced back to find Remy, the mother, and the infant gone.
Quickly, the thief reclaimed his toolbox and left the room to return to the hall.
~oOo~
New Orleans, Louisiana
The Past, Twenty-Six Years Ago
A week before
To Jean-Luc's growing worry, Remy took him to Charity Hospital. Jean-Luc didn't ask why they had come, having patience to trust that Remy would tell him in due time. They walked through the hospital and proceeded to the pediatric ward, then the NICU. Remy was wearing a wrist band which granted him access. The silence on this floor was suffocating. They passed rooms, each with a large observation window to the inhabitants inside. For the majority, each room contained at least one woman, sometimes a man as well, and always a small plastic cradle, more like a capsule, with a tiny infant inside. The hall was dim and silent, save for the constant beep of monitoring equipment and hiss of ventilators.
Remy took him to a room at the end of the hall. He nodded his head to indicate that Jean-Luc should enter. Inside Jean-Luc saw a woman with dark red hair. She was seated in a wheelchair beside the plastic cradle. Her hand was resting on the incubator's surface, as if to touch the tiny creature inside. The infant was under a light, which made him look incredibly pale. Jean-Luc could see the tiny blue blood vessels under the child's skin, which seemed nearly translucent. The baby was very small, and wore nothing but a diaper and a blue and pink hat that looked oversized on his tiny form. He had a number of tubes attached to him, a ventilator. His belly moved up and down with his breathing. There was a large bandage on his chest, over his heart.
Jean-Luc exhaled, saddened by the sight of the baby. The woman looked at him, and though she appeared quite exhausted, she smiled kindly.
Jean-Luc turned slightly to look at Remy. "Is this your wife?" he asked, gesturing to the ring she wore on her finger.
Remy made to shake his head, and looked at the woman. "No," he said hesitantly, "she's my-."
The woman spoke: "Partner," she answered. She looked at the newborn. "And this is Jean-Jacques. But we'll call him Jackie."
Jean-Luc approached the infant. He smiled grimly. "Jacques was my father's name."
"I know," Remy said.
Jean-Luc pulled his eyes from the baby to look at Remy. "And you know he was not a very compassionate man."
Remy nodded. "But his son is."
Still unsure of his purpose, Jean-Luc glanced at the woman again. "And, Jillian? Is it?"
The woman looked at him with surprise, then down at the identification bracelet she wore on her wrist. She covered it with her hand. "Very observant, Jean-Luc," she said. "But this is an alias."
"Will your baby...get better?" Jean-Luc asked her.
"We need a traiteur, a healer," Remy told Jean-Luc. "For baby Jackie."
"Of course," Jean-Luc said. "I could bring someone. I'm sure she would be happy to help. But, why did you need a thief to help you find a healer?"
"No," Remy shook his head. "I should have said. I've already spoken t'Mattie Baptiste. She's on her way. I need your help with something different."
"Explain," Jean-Luc urged.
Remy turned to a nearby table set on wheels and opened a briefcase. The small metal plate on the briefcase said: DENTI. Inside, there was a computer the likes of which Jean-Luc had never seen. There were also several documents. A thick folder of papers. Remy removed them and brought them to Jean-Luc. "My birthday's next week," Remy said, apropos of nothing.
"Bon anniversaire," Jean-Luc told him, completely confused.
"I mean, the day I'm born. Is next week," Remy said, and handed him a printed duplicate of a birth certificate. Indeed, the date was for the following Sunday. The name read: Moreux, Grant. The mother's name: Moreux, Helen. The space for the father's name was blank.
"Do I look like a Grant t'you?" Remy asked rhetorically.
"Maybe a Cary Grant," Jillian (not Jillian) said. "If only you'd shave."
"Then," Jean-Luc said, looking up from the certificate, "you...must be a time-traveler?"
"Told you you were quick," Remy told him. "I need you to rescue me, Jean-Luc."
Remy handed him two more papers, one with the ominous name "Black Womb" printed on it. The documents stated that the infant, Grant Moreux, was dead. And his remains were now the custody of a government program. There were two signatures on this document, Helen Moreux and Honoré DesJarlais. Jean-Luc knew the latter. That man had no qualms about hiring Guild Assassins. At the bottom of the second document, a death certificate, was the signature of the overseeing physician: a Doctor Nathan Milbury. "What is this?" Jean-Luc said in an exhale, feeling mildly ill.
"Fate worse than death," Remy told him. "Unless you step in."
"You want me to...kidnap you?" Jean-Luc asked.
"Is it kidnappin' if you have my permission?" Remy asked, and pinched his bearded chin in contemplation.
"To steal a baby…" Jean-Luc began, and looked at the small infant in the cradle. He nodded slowly. "I could give you a new name. Hide you with one of de clans. They won't like an outsider, but….mebbe if I tell them some nonsense about a prophecy. Mattie will back me. We'll make up some ceremony. Then they'll accept…"
Remy said: "Just be careful which prophecy y'pick, okay?"
"I'm going to help," the woman who was not named Jillian said. "I can be the lookout."
Jean-Luc gave her an uncertain look. "In your condition?"
"Jean, he's right," Remy said. "You need rest."
She protested: "Remy, after everything you've given up to help me... to keep me away from Sinister, let me do the same for you."
"Whatever I give up, I gain back in spades," he told her, smiling. "Or did you forget my nom de guerre?"
"Remy," Jean said, her voice authoritative, "I have died before. I am more than strong enough to help."
Remy sighed. He turned to Jean-Luc. "She's capable," Remy assured him.
Jean-Luc considered. "I will do it."
"I know," Remy said again. "I know I can trust you."
~oOo~
New Orleans, Louisiana
The Past, Twenty-Six Years Ago
That night
It was as Jillian, no, Jean-had said, the hospital staff had mysteriously dispersed. A nurse sat at her station, staring blankly into space as if hypnotized. The thief retraced his steps to the nursery area and entered the room using a stolen security badge. The nursery's lone occupant was fussing in his bassinet, his small sounds of unhappiness were beginning to progress towards true distress. Jean-Luc took up the child and put him to his shoulder. The newborn wore a small bracelet around his ankle; if he were taken from the maternity ward or the bracelet removed, alarms would sound. Jean-Luc disarmed it with a magnetic device. He opened the collar of his overalls and tucked the infant inside. The baby's small round face now pressed against the thief's black uniform hidden beneath his maintenance-man disguise. The infant had the same startled expression on his face as the last child Jean-Luc had looked upon...and dark red eyes.
The thief slipped back into the hall and progressed with purposeful authority towards the nearest exit. He would be slipping out a window of a vacant hospital room and scaling down the white concrete exterior of Charity Hospital, the child carefully held in his arm. From behind him, Jean-Luc heard the chime of an elevator and slow rumble as the doors slid aside. Footfalls echoed down the otherwise empty corridor coming to pause outside of the now-empty nursery.
The thief did not risk a glance backward nor did he speed his step. He could feel a crawling sense of dread across the back of his neck. Two men had arrived at this hospital with the same purpose; to acquire an infant with demonic red eyes. Documents had been signed transferring the baby to his new guardian; that dark presence in the hall behind him. In another life, in another reality, Jean-Luc might have missed his opportunity. The other man might have beat him to the pinch if the thief had not been given the exact date and time of this special child's birth. If the woman hadn't telepathically dispersed the confused medical staff. Jean-Luc possessively tightened his hold on the infant for a brief moment.
The thief was at war with himself, his emotions conflicted. He let himself down from an open window to descend to the shadowed alley several stories below, the rainy weather providing some cover as he scaled the building's facade. The thief spared a glance at the silent baby sheltered under his arm. The infant had pressed his fist into his open mouth, seeking to comfort himself. The thief hated having to relinquish his possession of the baby now. At the same time he knew it was a necessary evil. It was all part of the plan, to hide the baby in a place the child's owner would be least likely to look. The child in his arms would be a boy he would someday be honored to call son, would one day grow into a man to be proud of. As for the other baby, little Jean-Jacques, his future was as yet undecided. So Jean-Luc believed.
It was a night for unusual occurrences and miracles. For now, Jean-Luc LeBeau would have to have patience, because the boy in his arms would have none. He knew that his son would be given all the time in the world...quite literally...but live every moment with immediacy and excited anticipation for what came next. Jean-Luc had already been warned about what he was in for. Knowing this, Jean-Luc smiled and shook his head ruefully.
"That you experience even a fraction of de grief you're about t'cause me, Remy," Jean-Luc wished over the infant's head, his lips brushing over the sparse hair on the baby's scalp. "If it's true what goes around..."
~oOo~
The End and The Beginning
Inspiration and references, the first being the title/song. Remy's refusal to become an Avenger (star-spangled eyes), his disdain for corporate greed, and the question of who's son he really is.
Obviously, he's not a senator's son, but a thief's.
Fortunate Son – Creedence Clearwater Revival
Some folks are born to wave the flag,
Ooh, they're red, white and blue.
And when the band plays "Hail to the chief,"
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord,
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son, son.
It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no,
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,
Lord, don't they help themselves, oh.
But when the taxman comes to the door,
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes,
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son, no.
It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no.
Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord,
And when you ask them, "How much should we give?"
Ooh, they only answer: "More! More! More!"
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no military son, son.
It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, one.
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, no no no,
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate son, no no no...
In honor of Jean's dad (also my dad):
Solitary Man - Neil Diamond
Melinda was mine 'til the time
That I found her
Holding Jim
And loving him
Then Sue came along, loved me strong
That's what I thought
Ya, me and Sue
But that died too
Don't know that I will
But until I can find me
The girl who'll stay
And won't play games behind me
I'll be what I am
A solitary man
Solitary man
I've had it to here
Bein' where love's a small word
Part-time thing
Paper ring
I know it's been done
Havin' one girl who'll loves you
Right or wrong
Weak or strong
Don't know that I will
But until I can find me
The girl who'll stay
And won't play games behind me
I'll be what I am
A solitary man
Solitary man
Don't know that I will
But until I can find me
The girl who'll stay
And won't play games behind me
I'll be what I am
A solitary man
Solitary man
Solitary man
Solitary man
Remy's impetus to leave the X-Men behind, or try to:
Feelin' Alright – Joe Cocker
Seems I got to have a change of scene
Cause every night I have the strangest dreams
Imprisoned by the way it could have been
Left here on my own or so it seems
I got to leave before I start to scream
But someone's locked the door and took the key
Feelin' alright – oh ho
Not feelin' too good myself – oh, ho
Feelin' alright
Not feelin' too good myself – oh, ho
Boy you sure took me for one big ride
Even now I sit and wonder why
And when I think of you I start myself to cry
I just can't waste my time, I must keep dry
Got to stop belivin' in all your lies
'Cause I got too much to do before I die
You feelin' alright?
Not feelin' too good myself, little girl
Don't you get too lost in all I say
Yeah by the time, you know, I really felt that way, yeah
But that was then and now, you know it's today
I can't get off so I guess I'm here to stay
Before someone comes along and takes my place
With a different name and yes a different face
What Remy thinks he is, but is not:
I Am A Rock – Simon & Garfunkel
A winter's day
In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
I've built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
Don't talk of love,
But I've heard the words before;
It's sleeping in my memory.
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.
Traveling the desert:
A Horse with No Name - America
On the first part of the journey
I was lookin' at all the life
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings
The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz
And the sky with no clouds
The heat was hot and the ground was dry
But the air was full of sound
I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert, you can remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain
La, la, la, la-la-la, la-la-la, la, la
La, la, la, la-la-la, la-la-la, la, la
After two days in the desert sun
My skin began to turn red
After three days in the desert fun
I was looking at a river bed
And the story it told of a river that flowed
Made me sad to think it was dead
You see, I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain
Ah, la, la, la, la-la-la, la-la-la, la, la
Ah, la, la, la, la-la-la, la-la-la, la, la
After nine days, I let the horse run free
'Cause the desert had turned to sea
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings
The ocean is a desert with its life underground
And a perfect disguise above
Under the cities lies a heart made of ground
But the humans will give no love
You see, I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain
Remy and Jean's song:
Haven't Got Time For the Pain – Carly Simon
All those crazy nights when I cried myself to sleep
Now melodrama never makes me weep anymore
'Cause I haven't got time for the pain
I haven't got room for the pain
I haven't the need for the pain
Not since I've known you
You showed me how, how to leave myself behind
How to turn down the noise in my mind
Now I haven't got time for the pain
I haven't got room for the pain
I haven't the need for the pain
Not since I've known you
Suffering was the only thing that made me feel I was alive
Thought that's just how much it cost to survive in this world
'Til you showed me how, how to fill my heart with love
How to open up and drink in all that white light
Pouring down from the heavens
I haven't got time for the pain
I haven't got room for the pain
I haven't the need for the pain
Not since I've known you.
The Witnesses' song:
Teach Your Children – Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young
You, who are on the road
Must have a code that you can live by
And so, become yourself
Because the past is just a goodbye.
Teach your children well,
Their father's Hell did slowly go by,
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picked, the one you'll know by.
Don't you ever ask them why, if they told you, you would cry,
So just look at them and sigh and know they love you.
And you,
of tender years,
Can't know the fears that your elders grew by,
And so please help them with your youth,
They seek the truth before they can die.
Teach your parents well,
Their children's hell will slowly go by,
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picked, the one you'll know by.
Don't you ever ask them why, if they told you, you would cry,
So just look at them and sigh
and know they love you.
Citations/References:
Why Charity Hospital Was Allowed To Die
By Roberta Brandes Gratz
The Nation. Apr. 27, 2011
As of 2019, Charity Hospital is slated to become homes and retail. I do not know if the "Unusual Occurs and Miracles Happen" slogan will remain on the wall, but I hope so.
Google image search for Charity Hospital and you'll find the operating theater young Remy found himself in. Pretty scary stuff.
Inspo for the Senator:
Scott DesJarlais/John Edwards
Scott DesJarlais Fined $500 For Affairs With Patients By Michael McCauliff
The Huffington Post, October 10, 2015
John Edwards and the Mistress: A Breakdown of One of America's Most Sensational Scandals
ABC News By MARC DORIAN and LAUREN EFFRON November 11, 2013
Inspo for Gambit's moonlighting as an auditor:
Ex-HSBC boss who oversaw bank as it laundered money for terrorists quits as a minister after scathing report
Daily Mail Report, By RUTH SUNDERLAND and TIM SHIPMAN 19 June 2013
See also 2018 Netflix Documentary: Dirty Money, Cartel Bank episode
I started this story back in 2012. In 2013, I found out I was pregnant. I delivered my daughter in May, 2014. I had to put this story on hold, partly because I had pre-and post-partum depression, because I couldn't stomach writing about anything bad happening to babies. I always felt bad about not finishing this story. Now it's done and delivered.
Here's some things I was wondering when I wrote this. What do you think? Is Gambit's sexism harmlessly charming? Wildly inappropriate? Is it okay for him to tease and touch Jean because as Gambit thinks "she can take a joke"? Or straight up sexual harassment? I don't believe in white-washing characters. They don't feel real if they aren't flawed. Feel more real if he'd just learn his lesson and make a change himself.
Who do you think Jack's birth father is? Poppet or Sinister? Do you think if Jean had lost the game, she might have come to a different decision? Did Jack do the right thing, calling his mom back and putting her through literal hell? How much should a mother give a child?
Anyway, I hope you read my story a second time, because I hid a lot of foreshadowing and Easter Eggs in it!
