A/N : Well, that's not such a bad update, isn't it? How long has it been, a month? Hey, I'm getting good! Fact is, this story is almost finished (another chapter, maybe two, but I doubt it). But oh, what's this, the beginning of a plot? Well, my friends, this plot is NOT for Sixteen Years, it is for the famous crossover (which is in process *cough*Aimée*cough*scene*cough*weneedittopublish*cough*FOO*cough* of being written. In fact it's almost all written and hidden in MSN message logs [but whoever here has MSN knows how HELL it can be to go through the logs]) BAH. You'll see. Speaking of co-writing, you can go and have a look at this other story foofighta and me have going on, Vagabond. I hope you like it…
Here's more Louis!
Enjoy!
Making and leaving friends
He sighed. He had been in the Thieves mansion for a week now, mostly spending time with his grandfather, and never calling home. He couldn't. Every time his hand brushed the phone receiver, he pulled back, a lump in his throat. His father wouldn't like the idea of him being here. Remy had never brought his kids here, mostly because he was exiled from New Orleans, and to protect Josée and him from the Assassins' wrath. First thing he would know would be that Louis went down there by himself.
He walked down the stairs, and nodded to a blonde man in his mid twenties as they met in the stairs. He recognized him as Guy, Henri and Mercy's only son, and official heir to the leadership of the guild. Guy didn't like him, obviously, and avoided any conversation with him for a reason Louis didn't know. "Hi, Guy."
Guy looked up at him, raising an eyebrow, and continued his way up the stairs. "Bonjour," he said coldly, and Louis stopped to turn around and glare at Guy's back.
"You're not very talkative, are yeh?" he called.
Guy turned around, shooting him a cold glare. "I don' have t'be with yeh, Louis. Just like y'don' have t'be here at all." Louis raised his eyebrows, still speechless as Guy disappeared behind a corner.
"Charmin'," he hissed between his teeth, and was surprised to hear a chuckle coming from below. He turned and looked down at the bottom of the stairs to meet a wide smile. A young man was standing there, his hazel eyes slanted in amusement under light brown bangs.
"Oui, he tends t'be charmin' sometimes. Y'met him on one of'is good days."
Louis smiled at him and walked down the stairs. "I saw you at the meetin'." The other man nodded, still smiling.
"But we haven' been introduced. M'name's François, Franck fo'friends. Y'Louis, right?" He nodded, and Franck's smile grew wider. "We haven' seen yeh 'round a lot. Y'hidin' from somet'in'?"
Louis chuckled. "No, just spendin' some time with my grandfather… I just hadn't had the time to walk around a lot yet."
"Den y'gotta meet de people 'round here. Come on, follow me." Louis smiled and walked behind Franck in a hallway, but slowed down as he noticed the large number of pictures on the walls. He finally came to a stop in front of a large one, and chuckled. A much younger Jean-Luc, maybe in his fifties, was sitting in an armchair, a wide grin of his face, as his two sons stood behind it. Henri looked like he was in his late twenties, and kept a serious look on his face despite his photogenic smile, but Remy couldn't have been more than 16 or 17 at the time the picture was taken, and had a wide devilish grin on his face. "I never met him, but y'look a lot like him on dis picture," said a voice behind his shoulder.
Louis turned his head to look at Franck, and grinned. "I'm more like him than my mother. My sister got everythin' about her." He turned again, following Franck again. "What's with Guy? Is he like that with everyone, or does he keep all this charm for me?"
He laughed. "Not with me, we're practically brothers. But he's pretty much a spoiled brat with ev'ryone." He glanced up at him. "Y'special, though. Competition."
"Me?" Louis laughed. "Competition to what? Leadership of the Guild? That's never gonna happen, Franck. I'm not here to stay, I'm goin' back t'New York."
Franck smiled. "Yeh never know. Maybe yeh'll learn t'like it here. I don' wanna ask what I'm not s'posed to, but y'never saw y'grandpa b'fore?"
Louis smiled. "I saw him a few times, no more, when I was really young. My father never wanted t'bring us here, said it was too dangerous. So Jean-Luc came to New-York, but he stopped comin' a long while ago."
The other man nodded. "Guild war. We've been havin' trouble with de Assassins fo' ten years or so." He shrugged. "We always do."
"You're a thief?"
Franck smiled. "S'hard not t'be, when y'live here. Always been, an' I just got in de council. Here's de rec room," he said in a different tone, stopping in front of a door. "Here we are. Everyone," he added, pushing the door open, "Dis' Louis." They stepped in and Louis smiled, liking the rec room right away. A large, beautiful bar sat in the left corner, dimly lighten and surrounded by wooden stools. There was a dart game on the wall between two large windows covered with dark, heavy curtains to keep the sun from coming in, instead lighting the place with soft halogen spots on the ceiling. On the right lay a beautiful pool table, its green carpet lighten by a ceiling lamp, and surrounded by two leather couches and a comfortable looking armchair. There was already someone sitting in it, though, and Louis smiled at the girl sitting in it. She looked pretty young, with soft dark eyes and thick, rich brown hair cascading down her back. She smiled back, blushing, and Louis looked at the two other persons sitting on the couches. On one of them sat Isabelle, and Louis smiled at the blonde girl before turning his attention to the boy laying on the couch on his right. Dark hair fell in his dark purplish blue eyes, narrowed in amusement as he nodded at Louis, and he grinned back. "Dis' Didier," Franck said, stepping next to him. "I don' know'im, though, he just follows us ev'rywhere." Didier only snorted and threw him a cushion, and Franck caught it with a chuckle. "Non, he really follows me to learn how t'play pool. He keeps t'inkin' dat one day, he'll learn how t'play properly."
Louis looked back at Didier, and grinned. "That should be interestin'."
Franck chuckled and again and pointed at the brown-haired girl. "Dis' my lil' sister, Emily, an' I t'ink y'already met Isabelle, m'wife."
Louis raised his eyebrows, surprised, and stared at Franck, then at Isabelle. "Wife? How old are you?"
She chuckled, blushing. "20. Franck's 21. S'not dat young, Louis. 'T least not in de guild."
Didier laughed, getting up. "Well I don' know 'bout yeh guys, but I want out. Let's go outside," he grinned at Louis, "An' show 'im what 'New Orleans' exactly means."
***
It felt strange, like he was floating. Flying, over a city, a city he haven't seen in a long while. He wasn't sure why, or where he was going. Neither did he know what pushed him to fly down to the ground, and quickly walk to an abandoned building nearby. He sneaked in, his heart beating faster, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a large purple orb, the size of a minivan, hovering in front of him. It was eerily beautiful, sparks of electricity crackling around it, and he felt drawn to him like metal to a magnet. There were shadows standing by the orb, whispering, but he didn't pay attention, instead taking another step towards it. He reached out, putting his gloved hand in it, and smiled. It tickled.
He drew back his hand, frowning. What was that?
There was a yell at his left, and he snapped his head to look at what it came from. A shadow was standing there, blonde hair wild around her head. He couldn't see her face, but he took a step back, frowning, and ducked when a blade was swung towards his face. He yelled when the sharp blade cut through his skin, and he stepped back again, getting slowly closer to the orb. The shadow shrieked again, taking a step closer, but with a last glare at her, Louis turned towards the orb, and stepped in. He knew it wouldn't be dangerous when he saw two crimson eyes, staring right back at him.
"Papa?"
***
Louis gasped, sitting up. He jumped, looking around at his surroundings, and breathed heavily as he stared at the window. The soft night breeze blew softly through the open window, lifting the curtains. The sounds of the bayou nearby, crickets and frogs singing in the same orchestra, sounds he had grown fond of in the last months, now sounded unnerving. He let out a shaky sigh, crossing his arms against his bare chest.
He frowned, staring at the high posts of his bed. Here, in the dark, they looked like they ended with small heads, his imagination turning the light glow of the moonlight's reflection on the varnished surface into glowing eyes shooting him an accusing glare.
It wasn't the first time he had had this dream. It got clearer every time, though, and if at the beginning it left him more and more confused, he was quickly getting under the impression something was telling him to come back home.
Something was going to happen.
He groaned, falling back against the pillows. He didn't want to leave. He found the whole guild thing interesting, and Jean-Luc and Henri had told him he could stay. He could become a thief.
He snorted. He had left home to become something else than what his father was, and he was falling exactly in the same trap.
Fact was, he loved this trap. He loved the lazier life of the thieves, who went to bed late and got up even later, who didn't care about a lot of things he didn't care about either. It was a big family, and everyone, aside from Guy, had proven nice and welcoming. He knew that if he wanted to, he could be happy here.
He had made new friends with Franck and Isabelle, who were their smiling, nice selves, and he and Didier were quickly becoming very good friends as well. Emily was sweet, and cooked like a cordon bleu, and, aside from spending her days on the grand piano in the den, had the habit of blushing each time their eyes met. He chuckled. Dangerous territory. He didn't want anything to happen, with his mortal skin, and the fact he was going back home…
He sighed, and turned on his side to look out the window again. He really, really didn't want to go. But he had a feeling he had to.
Review commenting
[Before you read the review commenting, I would like to make some shameless self-promotion and announce the creation of XxFOOdelySxX who, for those who haven't noticed, is an hybrid between myself and brilliant author foofighta. See in my favorite authors!]
ishandahalf : Hehe, glad you liked the last one, so here some badness for you to glare at me about. And hey, I know Louis' kindof fluff deprived, but I'll manage to fix that someday. This story is almost over, well, not if you consider the crossover coming right after *glares at foofighta who hasn't written the part she was supposed to write SIX MONTHS AGO*, so no problem, never over, and I've fallen head over heels for Louis. So my other fic will wait, 'cause I'm writing some serious hunk here! We're talking about Louuuuueeeee…. *drool* Alright! You get the idea.
nessie6 : Well I won't even bother answering that question about Isabelle and Louis, you already got your answer. I'm afraid, my friend, that you won't be getting a lot of fluff with Louis right now. There WILL be, someday, some SERIOUS fluff, but not now, not in this story, and not with that girl. *wink*
foofighta : MY GIRL! Glad you liked it. Hope you like my little hint at the crossover, too, I had to find a way to get Louis back to New York, otherwise he would have stayed in New Orleans and… well. WELL. Okay, I know you can't love Isabelle, and we CAN'T say why here (I feel all those eyes on us, frowning, staring, glaring… *shivers* they want to know, foo! We can't let them know!). And Louis' love conquest? *raises an eyebrow* Nah, not in here… Haha, how do you like happy, innocent and angst-free 21 years old Franck? And Yes, you're right, if anybody else than you reads this paragraph, they will have no fuskin' idea what I'm talking about. At least it's shorter than your review. Hehe.
Kitsu Black : Yay! Another one in love! Double yay!
RealityDreamer : Very glad you like it. Is that a new name in my reviewers list? *raises an eyebrow* Velcome in my world of original characters!
Becki : Yes, well, lots of potential, but it's coming to an end. But fear not! For zee foofighta-Fleurdelys crossover is coming to the rescue, with the mighty adventures of zee LeBeau children…
Remy's ange : Yes, I, hum… noticed your 'attraction' (now that's an euphemism) to Louis in the 21 reviews you sent me. *grin* Thanks a lot! And no, Louis' not becoming a thief, as you can see by the end of this chapter. He likes it, though, and I think he feels more comfortable in that mansion, than in the other one. So once again, he finds himself in his father's shadow, as you said, only this time it's by choice. And don't worry about me writing about Louis… I'm afraid poor Josée, with her perfect boyfriend and perfect perfectness, is not a good subject to angst, who happens to be my best friend. Oh, Angy, you will love the crossover.