Note : Okay, a review suggested something interesting, and I couldn't resist… This was meant as a short story, but I doubt it will be long, anyways. No-name woman is mine, the others belong to Disney. Duh.

Enjoy.

The nurse looked up from the files she was checking, sure she heard a noise. The corridor was white and silent, and she dropped her head down again, resuming her searches. She had a blue bracelet clad in her hand, and her eyes were slithly wet with emotion.

There he was.

Bébé Gagnon. A small smile came to her lips. Not knowing how to name him, they had given him her name.

She had become a nurse, just to see small babies and remember how perfect hers was, the only time she had seen him. She had been hired in the Children Hospital three weeks ago, and had found these files involuntarily. Now she had found them, though… She looked at the small picture. She just wanted to look at it another time, but her eyes caught something, and she stopped breathing a minute. A note from a doctor, or a secretary, written in clear blue ink.

"Not adopted. Mutant eyes. Sent to New Orleans Children Orphanage. June 16, 1975."

Tears ran down her cheek. An orphanage! Her baby!

She sniffed. What could "mutant eyes" mean? A weird color?

She put the file back into the drawer, closed it, and went back to work. She would find out.

***************

She lifted her head and repressed a deep shudder, looking up to the austere building. She slowly walked to the door, crossing sad looks from the kids that had stopped playing in the yard, wondering who would have the chance to get out this time. She looked at the ground, tears in her eyes. Her baby, here! Well he surely wasn't here anymore, being something like 28 years old. But she needed to know his name. She pushed the door open.

The old woman gave her a cold look from the other side of the deep brown desk.

"I remember the kid. Weird, with demon eyes and pigheaded temper. Would scare the other kids out of their wits." She pushed the files towards her, rolling her eyes. "All the other kids would call him Son of Satan, but he called himself Remy, I don't know why. So that's the name we kept in the files."

"Who adopted him?" She raised her head to meet a deep glare from the woman.

"Nobody would be that crazy… No, he ran away. Probably died in the streets, like the rat he was."

Her hands clenched, and she repressed the need to punch the old woman's face. Instead she rose, a copie of the orphanage files clutched to her chest. She spoke with a white voice. "I thank you for your kindness, 'mam… I'll be leavin' now."

She walked towards the door, eyes filled with pain.

Dead?

He couldn't be.

***************

She was walking to her appartment in the French Quarter, where she lived with two cats. It was already late and she hated the scary silence of the nearby streets. She knew it wasn't empty, though; the two famous guilds were everywhere in New Orleans. She passed near a man dressed in a black suit and recognized the thieves uniform. She sighted, at least they didn't kill. Then she saw something else. The flash of the gun under the street lamp, the sound of running footsteps behind her, the man yelling "Attention*!", pinning her on the ground. Her breath ran short and she closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the man on her. She could hear sounds, shouts, and gun shots and soon it was silent again, and the man stirred on her, rolling onto his side with a moan. She got on her knees and looked at him. He was on his back, a look of pain on his face, doubled up. Men were running towards them as she tore his clothes to have a look at his chest. He had received the shot in his side. Lucky, the bullet had gone through the flesh without touching the lung. She needed to stop the bleeding but looked dubiously at the clothes the man was wearing, and shrugged before tearing up her own white blouse.

"He's been shot, dammit, we have to get him to de mansion" said a man leaning over them. "You a nurse?" he asked her. She nodded, not looking away from what he was doing.

"Dat man has to be taken to de hospital…"

"He's going to live?" he interrupted her.

"Well yes, but…"

"Den he goes to de mansion. And you come too, to tend his wounds." She didn't insist, and she finished dressing the wound before the other men carried the moaning man into a black car. The man who seemed to be the leader motionned her to sit inside, and she shrugged. They didn't look to dangerous, and she wanted to be sure the man who had saved her was going to be okay.

***************

She finished tending the man's wounds and pulled up the covers on him. Sitting on a big chair, she looked at him. He must have been in his mid thirties and was a very handsome man. His long blond hair were tied up in his neck and a light blonde beard was garnishing his long, homely face. He was sound asleep, dark lashes resting on his high cheeks. She looked at the surroundings, positively impressed by the wealth of the house. The door opened and a man entered the room, silently closing the door behind him. He paused, the hand on the handle, then turned to her, blue eyes full of worry. He was an older, darker version of the man lying in the bed, and she guessed he was his father. Grey hair mingled with brown, and the dark brows were drawned over the strickinly pale eyes.

"Is he going to be okay?" he asked her in a soft voice.

"Yes… the wounds aren't dat bad, he just needs to rest, now."

The man crossed the room and took her hand. "Thank you, for helping m'son." I chuckle, looking at the sleeping man.

"Well, it's de least I could do, he did save m'life…" The man smile.

"Yes, he does dat sometimes. He's almost as crazy as his brother." A shadow filled his eyes, but he blinked and it disapeared. He extanded a hand to me. "My name is Jean-Luc LeBeau. Dis guy" he motionned at my savior "is Henri, my older son. I suggest you stay here for tonight, I'll ask Mercy to prepare a room for you."

"Oh… well, thank you."

***************

I looked at the huge room and walked to the photographs on the walls. The biggest caught my attention, and I saw two teens in swimming suit. One of them fair, the other had deep auburn hair. They were wet to the bone and held water guns in their hands. I recognized the older boy as Henri, that couldn't had been more than 18 on the picture. The other was no more than 12, and both had a rogue grin on their face. Their eyes were squinted against the sun, and I supposed the brown boy was Mr. LeBeau other son. I hadn't met him yet, but then, he might as well have been part of the group of thieves. I dismissed the matter, and went to bed.

* Watch out!