Boston, Massachusetts
The Past, One Week Ago
Carl Denti tapped on the hospital room door. He held his coat awkwardly in his opposite arm. "Hello?" he called softly, in case the inhabitant inside was resting.
"Hello?" came the response. "Yes? Please come in."
Carl approached the privacy curtain and lightly pushed it aside. "Ah, uhm hello," he stammered. There was a woman sitting upright in a hospital bed. She wore a hospital gown and had an IV in her wrist. Otherwise, she looked composed, her face alert and her brown hair neatly pulled into a knot at her nape.
"Why, it's my knight in shining armor," she said with her soft southern-accented voice.
Carl momentarily met her warm gaze and then looked away. "Just in the right place at the right time, ma'am," he said. He might have blushed.
Her mouth curved into a grin. "I owe you my life. Both of you," she said, and turned her attention to include the second man in her room. Denti had missed him behind the curtain. Denti recognized the man in his rumpled suit and red glasses. It was Matthew Murdock. Murdock was placing some papers into a briefcase. He snapped it shut as Denti approached.
Murdock cocked his head in Denti's direction. "This is the man that called in the emergency?" he asked.
The woman, Helen Moreux, declined her head in affirmation. "A moment later, and I wouldn't be alive now," she said.
Denti was having a hard time meeting her steady hazel gaze, her beautiful smile. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with the information he had about Helen. There were so many complications. Here she was in the hospital, recovering from a gunshot wound that very nearly killed her. On the other hand, she contracted a killer to assassinate her former lover, Honoré DesJarlais: current whereabouts unknown. And then again she was Remy LeBeau's biological mother and a victim of this Black Womb project. And Denti might have attempted to kill her son on a few occasions before having a change of heart. But also, she was a white-collar criminal who should be charged with embezzlement and insider trading. Oh, and she was very, very attractive. Denti was ill-at-ease. He preferred things to be black and white. He was beginning to fear that Gambit might be having some kind of negative influence on him.
Failing to hear a response from Denti, Matt stated: "All in a day's work, eh, my good man!" and attempted to clap Denti on the shoulder. He missed somewhat and knocked the coat from Denti's arm. The coat had been concealing a small peach poodle.
Helen's kind smile transformed into one of joy. "My Chou-Chou!" she cried.
The dog wriggled out from under Denti's arm and leapt onto the hospital bed. It crawled to its owner, whining and shaking, its little pom-pom tail wagging furiously.
"Oh, my sweet little Chou," Helen crooned to the animal, picking him up and hugging him. "My sweet boy! I was worried sick about you! Thank you, thank you for taking care of him!"
"You snuck a dog into a hospital?" Murdock asked Denti.
"You've heard of companion animals?" Denti attempted gruffness. "I did give it a bath first. And your business here?"
"I'm representing Ms. Moreux," Murdock replied and extended his hand in Denti's direction. Denti suspected the man fully knew where he was standing, but the offered hand was slightly off to the left. "Matthew Murdock. Ms. Moreux is my client. I'm handling her affairs. And you are?"
Denti shook Murdock's hand, aware of the man's identity and his rumored alter-ego. It was making an incredible impression on Denti that this same man had been involved in the nearly-botched affair with NABC weeks before. Murdock currently represented the whistleblower in the pending case and was providing a safe-haven to the man. And Murdock was the last person to have seen both Gambit and the mysterious red-headed clone...not to mention, Denti's Cadillac, briefcase and laptop. That Murdock just happened to be here, now, and employed by Helen Moreux was a coincidence that boggled the mind.
"Carl Denti," Denti eventually replied, returning Murdock's handshake.
"Don't make any sudden moves now," Murdock joked at Denti's slow and measured responses. "Now, what brought a government employee to my client's door? Fortunate as it was, I have to wonder what someone involved in Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs was doing visiting my client."
Denti's mouth opened to reply. Of course Murdock would know who he was. He glanced at Helen, who was stroking her dog's head. Her dark eyes were guarded now. "I'd like to ask her to testify," Denti said slowly. "On allegations against Honoré DesJarlais."
"Ah!" Murdock said amicably, "Well, we can certainly discuss that at another time. Of course, the Senator would need to be found first. So you may not need to trouble my client any further."
Denti could take the hint, so instead turned to Helen. "Ma'am, there's another matter I wished to discuss with you. A personal one." He shot a glance at Murdock. "If we could speak privately?"
"Personal?" Helen echoed. "In what regard?"
Denti didn't know how to begin to broach the topic of Black Womb and her biological son. Certainly not in front of an audience. Gambit would certainly not thank him for discussing it in front of Daredevil, whom it seemed he bore some animosity.
"Hello!" came a merry voice from behind the privacy curtain. "Delivery for Ms. Moreux!" The curtain twitched aside to reveal a massive bouquet of roses.
"Oh!" Helen said with surprise. "My goodness. Those are lovely. Here, can you place them here?" She indicated the table beside her bed.
The delivery man came forward, passing before Denti and Murdock, and placed the arrangement at her bedside. "My pleasure," he told her and then moved back to the curtain. He deposited a sneeze in the crook of his elbow. He was tall, narrowly built, with long white hair. His age was difficult to place, somewhere between late-50s and one hundred and fifty. He wore small smoke-colored glasses and an odd assembly of clothing. Denti thought he looked something like a geriatric Jedi.
"Oh, it's you!" Helen said with pleasure. "What a nice surprise. How neighborly of you."
The man bowed slightly at the waist. "Think nothing of it! I'm glad to see you out of de woods, m'dear. Ah, look who else is here. It's my Plan C and Plan D. What a coinkydink."
Denti was stymied by that statement, but Murdock turned in the older man's direction. "You're that shopkeeper. The one who threw me out into the street."
"The very same," The Witness said.
"Plan C?" Denti repeated.
Helen waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Don't let him bait you," she said, smiling. "He loves talking about how clever he is."
"Rude," the older man replied, absently patting the little dog when it came over to him. "After I come all dis way bearing gifts. When you know I'm allergic to flowers and went to the trouble anyway."
"But not dogs," Murdock said dryly.
"Poodles are hypoallergenic. His little boy is just the same...allergic. But he plays with Chou-Chou in our courtyard all the time. This is my neighbor," Helen informed Denti, nodding at The Witness. "He's mostly harmless."
Denti asked: "Did you happen to witness the shooting in Ms. Moreux's home? Did you see the assailant?"
"Ever vigilant, Agent Denti!" The Witness declared, as the dog ate a snack he'd produced from his coat pocket.
"How do you-," Denti began.
"He is a mutant," Helen said. "He sees multiple timelines at once. If you keep asking him questions he'll just continue to confuse you."
"Spoilsport," The Witness grumbled. "See if I give you any more hot stock tips!" and he laid a finger alongside his nose and winked at her.
"So what was Plan A and Plan B?" Murdock asked, attempting to wrangle the conversation.
"Plan A is always like...the first pancake. Too weird, misshapen. Got to throw it out. But Plan B! Ah...a true flower of de South. Plan B is your dinner date next week," The Witness said, happy to be answering questions in spite of Helen's warning. "I recommend you avoid the vichyssoise, you'll regret it if you don't."
Murdock's mouth opened, but then snapped shut.
"Belle's a feisty one," the man continued. "Gird your loins."
"Who are you?" Murdock said.
"I go by many names…" the man began enigmatically.
"His name is Jack," Helen interrupted. "He also calls himself 'The Witness,' because he thinks he knows everything."
The Witness shot her a disgruntled look. "You're ruining my je ne sais quoi."
"You said there were gifts," Helen said. "Gifts, plural."
The Witness brightened. "Ah, yes! I nearly forgot!"
"You did not," Helen responded.
The Witness held up his hands, first displaying his palms, then the backs of his hands, demonstrated to all that he had nothing up his sleeves, and then with a flourish, whipped aside the privacy curtain (all of which was lost on Matt Murdock). "Ta da!" The Witness said.
There was nothing there.
"There's nothing there," Denti stated the obvious.
"What?" The Witness said, looking at the space where he intended his surprise to be. "Where did that little-oh, there you are!" The man momentarily disappeared behind the curtain and reemerged, dragging with him an unwilling teenage boy.
"Ta da!" he announced again, with another theatrical flourish.
There was a moment of profound silence as Denti and Helen stared at the newcomer. Murdock might have twitched his nose. Then they all began speaking at once.
"How is that-is that-?" Denti stammered.
"Oh my God, my God!" Helen exclaimed. "But it's not possible!"
"Oh no, not another one!" Murdock groaned.
"Yes! Yes it is!" the Witness said, answering all their questions. "This, my friends, is what we call...a paradox." He put his hands down onto the shoulders of the teenager who was looking more and more nervous. "This poor, time-lost lad managed to write himself out of his own timeline. An amazing feat of utmost stupidity. And instead of erasing himself from existence, as one would imagine, he continued to live on - thanks to me - in a bubble outside of time. But then, through no small effort on my part, I determined a window of opportunity where it would be safe for him to emerge without creating too much temporal turbulence."
"Good grief," Murdock said, moving his glasses up his nose.
Helen was not really listening to what her neighbor had to say. Her eyes were affixed on the fifteen-year-old boy before her.
"This, young man, is your biological mother," he told the young Remy. "I'm afraid you really screwed the pooch (pardon my expression)," he told the dog, "and as they say, you really can't go back home again."
"But-," the boy began.
"I suppose I could bring you to Jean-Luc, but the poor man has suffered enough," The Witness rambled on, shaking his head in mock sorrow. "When you went back to the past to coach your younger self, you managed to make a mess of things. There was no future for you to go back to. So, you're stuck."
The Witness continued: "Helen Moreux, this is your son. Sorry he's fifteen years older than when you last saw him, but as you can see, he still needs the guiding hand of a loving adult."
Mother and son regarded one another. Helen's eyes began to fill with tears. "You have no idea," she said slowly, "how much I have missed you." She tentatively reached out a shaking hand.
The time-lost Remy glanced back at The Witness. "Don't be shy," the older man said encouragingly.
The boy took a few steps forward and awkwardly touched the woman's hand before releasing it. "You're my...my m-mother?" he asked, having a hard time forming the word. "But...I never knew. I figured you didn't-didn't want me."
Helen shook her head. "That couldn't be further from the truth."
"Sit down," The Witness gestured for Remy to sit on the chair at Helen's bedside. "Get to know each other. I suppose you might require a new name. Grant, was it?"
Remy looked horrified. He'd traveled back into his own past to try to help his younger self escape his responsibilities, found himself cornered by a horrifying pale man claiming to be his father, and then had The Witness pop up to whisk him away at the last moment. He'd had the misfortune to lose his family, his home, and now his identity. The Witness had impressed upon him the gravity of his poor choices, expressed empathy for his loss, and given him a glimpse into what his life would have been like had he ended up in the hands of the man calling himself Sinister. Then he'd been told he would be given a chance at a fresh start, slate wiped clean. And challenged to make the most of it.
Helen laughed a little. "I don't think he looks so much like a Grant to me," she said.
"Well, you can work it out," The Witness said. "Two things though. First thing. Stay out of New York City. Second thing. Do not, under any circumstances, go to the year 1963. Never. I forbid it!"
"But why would I want to -," Remy started.
"I said don't do it!" The Witness barked. "I swear to God if I have to deal with timetravelers messing around the Kennedy assassination one - more - time - I will lose my pea-pickin' mind. Anyway, best be off then. Gentlemen, shall we leave these two to reconnect?"
"You're going to leave me?" Remy asked. He was perched on the edge of the chair. The little dog was looking at him and waving its tail in a hopeful way. Remy reached out a hand and let the dog sniff his fingers.
"We'll see each other again," The Witness said. "Ms. Moreux, maybe a change of scenery for yourself and Paradox Boy here? Like the West Coast? Far, far away from here? San Diego is nice. I have a shop there, just outside of the Gaslight District."
Helen nodded her understanding. "Thank you, Jack," she said quietly.
"You've franchised your crummy newsstand?" Murdock asked as The Witness took the two men by the arm and led them away from Helen's bedside.
"Crummy?!" The Witness objected.
"Agent Denti," Murdock began as the trio walked down the hospital corridor, "you needed to talk to Helen about something personal? It wouldn't happen to have anything to do with someone who goes by the codename 'Gambit,' would it?"
Denti held out his arms in a futile gesture. "It's just Mister Denti, not 'agent.' Or, call me Carl. But...I suppose in light of recent, er, revelations, that the information I have may be irrelevant. Or at the very least, extremely complicated."
"You suppose correct," The Witness said. "And Mr. Denti, you might also be in possession of some knowledge regarding Ms. Moreux and her occupational pursuits. It just so happens I am in possession of knowledge regarding your extracurricular activities. Now I do hope you and Ms. Moreux can both leave your pasts in the past and I can trust you not to pursue any further inquiries?"
"Uhm," Denti said.
"Unless of course, you would like to call this phone number at a future date and inquire about her health and how she may be getting on. I assure you that she would be...receptive...to your concern."
Denti took the scrap of paper The Witness offered him, looked at it, and placed it carefully into his coat pocket.
"I also trust the pair of you to refrain from mentioning to the grown-up Gambit that a pint-sized version is still running loose in this present time? In the hopes that Ms. Moreux and her newfound son might have some semblance of a normal life?"
"What pint-sized version?" Murdock asked. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The Witness nodded. "Very good. And then there's the contents of your briefcase."
Murdock transferred the grip on the briefcase to his opposite hand, the one furthest from The Witness. "These materials belong to Ms. Moreux and I will follow her instructions accordingly."
"Fine, fine," The Witness said airily. "And when Remy tells you he wants nothing to do with the contents, you can bring them to Ms. Moreux's grandson. He'll be at Stark Tower."
"Her...grandson?" Murdock murmured. "But that's not…"
"Could really save yourself de run around and give them to me now. But anyway," The Witness said brightly. "Who wants lunch? I know a place. Just hold on to your wallets, it's managed by Guild Thieves. Tip generously."
~ oOo ~
New Orleans, Louisiana
The Past, Eleven Years Ago
Remy woke to a warm, soft weight pressed against the left side of his face. His head slowly turned to the right. When he opened his eyes, it was to the sight of Tante Mattie smiling at him, her dark eyes shining in her dark face. Her hand was held against his cheek, her eyes were full of concern.
"Welcome back, baby," she told him.
Remy blinked, took in his surroundings. He was in a hospital room, in a hospital whose decor he recognized easily. Tante Mattie sat beside him, wearing a bright cotton dress and handkerchief over her braided hair. She had some knitting in her lap, a scarf it seemed. Though who would need a scarf in New Orleans was anyone's guess.
"What?" he breathed. "What happen?"
"Y'don't remember?" Tante Mattie said as she sat back in a chair, her gentle touch moving to rest against his chest over his heart.
Remy shook his head against the pillow. He was propped upright on a hospital bed.
"Y'don't know how you got here?" Tante Mattie asked. When his eyebrows came together as he tried to think, she asked: "What's de last thing you remember?"
Remy scanned his memory. For the most part, it seemed like one big blank space. Some things, however, seemed foggy and indistinct. Glowing red eyes, not his own. Firelight shining on three metal knives, like claws. Miles and miles of dark tunnels. A woman with platinum white hair, flying in the sky.
"I think I saw an angel," Remy told her, confused.
"Mebbe your guardian angel was watchin' over you, Remy," Tante Mattie said and kissed his forehead. "But you don't remember fallin' sick or gettin' to the hospital?"
Again, he shook his head no.
"That's all right," she said kindly and patted his arm. This was a new experience for Remy. Usually, Tante Mattie and Jean-Luc didn't believe him when he said he couldn't recall something.
"You been here awhile," Tante Mattie told him. "Probably be here a few more days."
Remy made a sound of protest.
"It'd be longer if I hadn't healed you up some," she informed him pointedly. "But don't worry. Your daddy will make sure you're outta here before they stick you with any more holes. I brought you a few things from home." Tante Mattie gestured to the small rolling table at his bedside. There was a pack of playing cards and a few books. "And I can always read to you when you're feeling up to it. Hope these books ain't too young for you."
Mattie showed him the two books she'd brought. Alice in Wonderland and The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Remy shook his head. "I think I'll just stay in Kansas for a bit," he told her. "Oz is overrated."
"How about this one?" she offered a paperback with a picture of overlapping sand dunes on the cover.
"Ha, yeah," Remy agreed. "That's a good one."
"I was afraid you'd say that. I am not about to be able to pronounce all these crazy names," Mattie flipped to the first page. "Mwah-dib?"
Remy said: "Mu-ah-deeb. Muad'Dib."
"Ain't any wonder you can't spell, readin' this nonsense."
There was a small commotion outside the hospital room door.
"Get out de way!" announced a commanding voice. Remy recognized it immediately, and braced for impact.
BellaDonna strode into the room, arm held aloft like some kind of queen commanding heads to be removed. She was brushing past Jean-Luc LeBeau, forcing herself into the room.
"Belle," Jean-Luc was saying, trying to waylay her. "You best be getting-."
"You don't get t'tell me what to do!" she informed him, marching over to Remy's bedside. Her violet eyes, when they came to rest upon Remy's face, showed a moment of worry and alarm. "Remy, bon Dieu, you look like you're half out de grave."
Remy shrank back a bit into the bedclothes. "Hey, Belle," he couldn't remember the last time they'd spoken, or if she was mad at him or not. Her wild blond hair had been tamed into a pair of braids that ran over the top of her head like a crown. She carried a small bag over her arm. She surveilled him critically.
"I heard you was sick," she said, more quietly now. "I always imagined if you were gonna end up in the ER, it woulda been because I sent ya there."
"You still got de chance to put me in de morgue," he said, holding his hands out helplessly.
"Remy!" Tante Mattie scolded.
Belle smiled at him, her expression relieved. She perched herself on the side of the hospital bed beside him. "I wanted to see how you were doin'," she said. "Thought you could use some cheering up." She grabbed the bag she carried and upended it over Remy's lap. He sat up hurriedly, half thinking he would have to protect himself. Instead, packaged candy rained down from the canvas bag to spill over the bed. "Don't say I never gave ya nothin'," she told him.
"Enh, Belle," he said grinning, his hands weighing the candy as a pirate would buried treasure. "You are a woman after my own heart."
"I'll have it on a platter," she said, and kissed the side of his face. "Ya dummy. You'd better get well b'fore the next party because I'm not going by myself, and everyone else is so boring."
"As you wish," he bowed his head slightly. She hit him with a wrapped Twizzler.
"Belle," Jean-Luc said tiredly. "You need to go. Remy needs to rest."
BellaDonna sniffed at him. "I'll go when I'm good an' ready. And it just so happens I'm ready now!" she announced. She stood from the bed and marched towards the door, momentarily held up when Jean-Luc failed to get out of her path. "Move!" she yelled at him, as he stepped aside and she sailed through the door.
"That girl is crazy," Jean-Luc remarked.
"Jean-Luc!" Tante Mattie admonished.
He waved her protest away, turned and closed the hospital room door. He too was carrying a small satchel, almost like a doctor's bag. Jean-Luc approached and pulled up a second chair from beneath the hospital room window. Placing it opposite Tante Mattie's place at Remy's right hand side, he sat on Remy's left. He set the little bag onto the floor. "Glad t'see you awake, son," he told Remy. "You had us pretty worried."
"I'm okay," Remy told him. "You don't got to worry 'bout me."
"Remy, I haven't worried more in my century-long life than I have these last few years," Jean-Luc said. "D'you remember how you got here?"
Tante Mattie said: "He doesn't. I asked him. The doctors said that might happen. Mem'ry loss."
Jean-Luc's expression conveyed what he thought about the opinions of doctors. "When you didn't come home, we went out lookin'. Realized you were found your bicycle outside de hospital, chained to de bike rack. Though why you bother t'chain that rusting pile of junk, I don't know. No one's ever gonna steal it."
"You didn't trash it did you?" Remy asked, annoyed.
Jean-Luc shook his head. "No, Remy. But I do think it's probably time we looked into getting you somethin' else to ride around on. You're not a little kid anymore."
Remy made a show of pinching himself. "Is this for real?" he asked himself aloud. "Is this a dream?"
Jean-Luc gave a half-exasperated half-laugh, took Remy by the back of the neck, and kissed his son on the forehead.
"Enh, poppa, get off," Remy said, pulling away, but not pulling too hard. He rubbed a hand against this forehead. "What's a-matter with you?"
"De nurses said a woman carried you into the ER," Tante Mattie told him. "You were unconscious. D'you think you fell?"
Remy was getting a little frustrated with this line of questioning, but not the questioners. Why couldn't he remember anything? "Tattie," he said. "De last thing I have a clear picture of is you yellin' at me to feed the chickens." He blinked. "And...as I remember that, I was feelin' pretty sick that day anyway. And you said I was hung over!" He looked at her with an expression of hurt reproach, but when he saw how stricken Tante Mattie looked, he quickly smiled. "I mean, I did have more'n a few beers."
Mattie let out a frustrated sigh. "Jean-Luc," she said. "You have got t'do somethin' about this boy!"
"Enh, boys will be boys," Jean-Luc said, seemingly not bothered in the least. Jean-Luc told Remy: "I got somethin' for you."
"Y'did?" Remy asked. "Is it more candy?"
"Remy, do you have any idea how much orthodontics cost?" Jean-Luc frowned. "No, it's not candy. I got you some ownership, responsibility."
Remy's smile turned upside down. "No, thanks!"
Jean-Luc smiled. "I think you'll like it," he said, and picked up the small case he'd brought into the room. He placed the case, which had been left open a crack, onto Remy's bed. Jean-Luc loosed a bit of twine that had been holding the satchel closed. Remy was surprised when the face of a black and white kitten appeared.
"Ah!" Remy said, grinning. He picked up the kitten. It was all black with gold eyes, a neat white mask over its mouth, an almost perfectly circular bib of white on its chest, and white feet. "Y'got me a kitty!"
"Jean-Luc, you did not just bring that cat in here," Mattie scolded.
"I'll take him home when I go," Jean-Luc calmed his friend. To Remy he said: "You got to take care of him now, y'hear?"
"Okay! I will!" Remy said, delighted. He lay the kitten onto the bed amidst the pile of candy. The kitten rolled around in the crinkling wrappers, playful. Remy teased him with the Twizzler. "Thank you!"
"Well dis one is significantly less odorous than the last kittens you tried to adopt," Jean-Luc said.
Remy looked at his father blankly, a smile still playing on his mouth. "What kittens?" he asked.
"You remember," Jean-Luc urged. "The kittens you found in Tante Mattie's shed. The ones that turned out t'be baby skunks?"
Remy shook his head, confused. "I don't remember that," he said.
Jean-Luc and Tante Mattie exchanged a worried look. "Mebbe it'll come back t'you," Jean-Luc said slowly. "I, for one, won't ever forget that smell."
Remy was distractedly playing with his new pet. The kitten had claimed his forearm with its forelegs, was kicking with its hindlegs, and was trying to gnaw on Remy's fingers. "Rraah, you're a little tough guy," he told the kitten. "I'm gonna rile you up good!"
"What'll you call him?" Jean-Luc asked.
Remy picked up the kitten under its forelegs and its back legs hung limply. He looked at the kitten in the face, with it's neat little markings, it's expression of superiority. "Tony," he said.
"What kind of name is 'Tony' for a cat?" Tante Mattie remarked, her face still conveying disapproval as far as the cat was concerned.
"Dunno," Remy said and lay back with the kitten on his chest. "Looks like a Tony t'me for some reason."
Tony looked at Remy imperiously, ears out to either side, licked a pink tongue over his nose, then leapt at Remy's neck hoping to resume their wrestling match. Remy let out a laugh. Tante Mattie's frown melted away.
Jean-Luc riffled through the candy strewn across the bedcovers. He picked up a small chocolate bar. "Fun-size," he remarked. "What's so 'fun' about getting only a third of de chocolate in a regular size?"
Remy gathered two more bars of chocolate and handed them to his father. He selected a peanut-butter cup to give to Tante Mattie. With one hand occupied by the kitten, he ripped the wrapper of the Twizzler off with his teeth.
"Y'give'n away your candy?" Jean-Luc asked, he sighed and leaned back into the chair. He opened the chocolate bar, took a bite.
"S'mine t'give, isn't it?" Remy said, trying to pick the piece of cellophane off his chin. "And b'sides, I needed to check and see if Belle poisoned it or not first... You feelin' okay there, poppa?"
Jean-Luc slowed his chewing and stared at Remy.
"Well, at least his sense of humor is intact," Tante Mattie remarked.
Jean-Luc shifted in his chair and produced a small pouch from his jacket pocket. "Given you don't seem to remember a whole lot, I wonder if you remember where this came from?" Jean-Luc asked. He extracted a three-diamond ring from inside the pouch.
Remy stared at it blankly. "I must've stole it," he murmured. He shook his head, trying to clear cobwebs from his mind. "You gonna tithe it?" he asked.
Jean-Luc returned the ring to its pouch. "No, chèr. You keep it. Give it to a nice girl, someday."
Tante Mattie's expression grew cautious and she shook her head slightly, as if to warn Jean-Luc of something. Remy, oblivious, chewed on his candy as the kitten curled up under his chin, purring loudly. "I don't think Belle'd appreciate you callin' her nice, poppa," he said offhandedly.
Jean-Luc said nothing, but stood and took the kitten, placing it back into his bag.
"Y'goin'?" Remy asked.
"I'm meeting someone for dinner," Jean-Luc told him. "But I'll be back t'bust you outta dis place soon enough. Mattie, you coming?"
"I'll keep an eye on Remy," Tante Mattie told him.
Jean-Luc nodded. "You-stay put," he ordered, pointing a stern finger in Remy's direction.
"Yessir," Remy said diligently with false obedience.
"Tie him down, if you have to," he told Tante Mattie as he departed.
Tante Mattie made a scoffing sound. "You gonna stay right by my side, ain't ya, baby?" she asked Remy.
"Yes'm," Remy said smiling, basking in the glow of Tante Mattie's concern. "Love you, momma."
~oOo~
A/N: Hi friends. Thank you for reading. I hope my story is making sense, because I feel like I might be speaking into the void. I have good news for my faithful few, I have finished this story! There are seven chapters remaining and I will post a new one each week. I hope it is coherent, because there's still A LOT of stuff to tie back together. It was hard to keep straight who all knew what and when, but we all know The Witness knows all, and he'll set everyone straight. Or at least a little less crooked. We will return to our heroes, Jean and Remy, in the remaining chapters for some good times, some sad times, some steamy times, and some glad times.