Blood. There was still blood on his hands. Still a heavy sense of shock coursing through the 18 year old Remy LeBeau. Blood. He'd had blood on his hands before, but never from someone he had killed. Thieves didn't kill. Assassins killed. Yet that was not the way it had played out.

The chair was uncomfortable, in his fathers home. He sat in his room, in the chair he'd always hated to sit in. Still in his tux, and still with the heavy golden band on his finger. It was covered in blood too. Why was there so much blood? Merde! Why did dat man have t'be such a fool!? He ruined everything. Mebbe I de one dat ruined everything. So much for my wedding day...

"Son."

The voice jerked him out of his shock and thoughts, as he stared at his adopted Father. "Père?"

He hated how his own voice cracked. He could feel the pain rolling off Jean-Luc in waves, but he didn't need to be able to feel other peoples emotions to know what the Patriarch was feeling was bad. His face was somber, and he looked more pained then Remy had ever seen in his adopted father.

"Take de ring off, Remy. Maurius, he won't have ya as his step son. De marriage stand though, but.. Remy. I love ya like my own blood, ya know dat. I raised ya de best I could, given ya every bit of trainin I could. Ya better den I was at ya age. Hell petite, ya de only one in de guild t'ever earn de rank of Master of de Craft who was less den 40 years old."

Remy's heart began to break. They were going to take his Bella away from him. Would she even still want him, with her brothers blood on his hands? If only that petty jealous fool hadn't challenged him to a duel. To the death... of all the moronic.. Remy blinked away tears, and watched his father. Hearing the old mans voice almost break like his was was yet another blow against the young Thief.

"What ya sayin, Père? Dey ain' gonna let me see Bel no more? De peace? What gonna happen?"

The look on his fathers face broke his heart even more. It was worse then what he asked, he could tell that already. It was like his Fathers own pain and emotions were assaulting, stock piling atop of his own. Never before had he experienced emotions so acute, except when he and Bella made love.

"Ya Exiled, Son. De peace, it stand, just like ya marriage stand. Ya gonna have to leave New Orleans Remy, an ya can't come back. On pain a death from de Assassins. An don't you try an get Bella to go wit' you, dat would start a war." Jean-Luc wiped a tear from his cheek as he spoke those words, he sounded as if he was pronouncing his own death. As if some of himself died, by having to exile his son.

"But.. but.."

A hand on his shoulder, a strong hand that squeezed his shoulder hard. "It was de best I could do, Remy. We tried t'talk wit' de Assassins, t'get dem to see dat it was Julien's fault. Dey wouldn't see it, couldn't see it. Ya gonna have to go son. Mebbe.. mebbe in a year or two, when t'ings calmed down.. Tante, she get messages to ya from Bella. She still love ya son, she de only one of 'em who was on ya side for dis. Only reason dey didn't demand ya head too I t'ink. Dey afraid of taking her husband as well as her brother away from her."

"What'm I gonna do?"

"You gonna do what you gotta do, Remy. Ya a LeBeau. Dis don't change dat. Whatever else happens, good or bad son, when all else fails, you a t'ief. Remember dat. Now, you get ya self packed. Henri be up here in a bit to help ya. Den we gonna have a family dinner one last time, an we all go together up to Tante's cabin near Akers. Ya stay wit' her for a bit, an well.."

Jean-Luc sighed, then composed himself.

"You a man, Remy. You face dis on your feet. You stronger den dis. You stronger den ya ever know. Ya make a name for yaself son. Ya already got de skills, ya make dat name for yaself. Each tally in ya reputation be a laugh in de face of de Assassins, a bit a mud in dere faces for daring to not accept ya."

"Poppa?"

"Yeah Remy?"

"I don't care bout dat. I just wanna hold Bella, and be wit' my family.."

"I know dat son, but dis ain't something ya got a choice in an I won't let ya throw ya life away by staing in New Orleans. It's time for ya to leave de nest Remy, an like dem Angels ya used to fawn over as a pup, ya gonna soar high. Higher den de likes anyone in de Guilds ever soared before. Ya understand me son?"

"Oi, Père. I do. But I don't like it. Ya.. ya tell Bella dat I love her, yeah? Dat I sorry. Dat I love her more den life itself, yeah?"

"I tell her, Remy. Get y'self packed. Was gonna be ya wedding present, but.. I got ya some new body armor, an a new bo-staff. Adamantium."

Remy's eyes bulged, at that last. That had to have cost a fortune. He didn't have time to question Jean-Luc though, as his Father siddled out of the room before he broke down again.

Two months later, Remy LeBeau stared at the cigarette as it burned and threw smoke up into the air. Two months, he'd spent with Tante. He'd gotten two letters from Bella the whole time. She still loved him. Despite that they couldn't be together now. It was eating him up inside, and his dreams were haunted by the snearing face of Julien. Or worse, by his face as death clouded over it. The worst though, the worst was the dreams of Bella. Not even nightmares, but almost memories of all their times together. Laughter, intimacy, love. It haunted him and hung heavy on his soul.

"Chil'e, what I tell ya bout smoking in my cabin?"

"Sorry Tante, but.. what it matter? Dis all pointless."

There was the sullen side of Remy that it broke her heart to see. As a child he'd always been energetic, literally bouncing off walls. Always up to some trouble, and always charming nearly every single person he met. Now, he was just a shadow of his former self. A fraction. It was torture to see it in the young man she'd raised as her son every bit as much as Jean-Luc had raised him.

"No more of dis, Remy. Ya gotta move on. Ya can't just dwell on dis for de rest of ya life, and not do anyt'ing."

"Dat easy t'say Tante. What de point? What de point at all!?" He shouted the last, then sighed. "Merde. Désolé."

He dropped back into sitting, and wrapped a finger around the silver chain he wore now. The one his wedding ring rested on. Bella wore hers the same way, her letters indicated. Her father wouldn't let her wear it on her finger, he was still too upset, Bella said.

Was he ever going to see his wife again?

"I said ya gotta move on, Remy. Quit staring at dat ring."

"An jus' how I supposed to move on Tante? Where I got to go?"

"I got ya plane tickets here, an Jean-Luc, he wired 10 grand into ya account dis morning. We sending you to Paris, Remy. You gotta get out of de country, get out of dis funk. You can't do dat here. Other cities, other places, other people. You gotta live again, petite."

"Ya t'ink jus' sending me off gonna be de answer?"

"Non. But it help. Only t'ing dat gonna be de answer is time, Remy. Time and growing. Ya go to Paris, ya brother meet ya there. Set you up with some contacts, get workin again."

"When de plane leave?"

"Tomorrow."

"A'right. I be on it, but... Tante?"

"What is it?" She asked with concern that made him feel a lout for how he'd been acting.

"Ya t'ink I ever get to be wit' Bella again?"

Tante sighed, at the look in his eyes. He was looking for reassurance, a reason to hang onto the assassin. To hang onto his love. Maybe to hang onto his life.

"Dunno petite. Ya two love each other, den anyt'ing be possible. But it ain't gonna be easy, Remy. It gonna take time, an I talkin years, not months, for dese kinds of wounds ta heal."

"T'ought so, t'anks for being honest." He sighed, and went back to blowing smoke rings. But at least he wasn't playing with that wedding band anymore. Now he looked more, at least a little, like the child she'd taught to read. Those devils eyes smouldered and flashed occasionally, and whatever he was planning... one thing Tante knew about Remy, it was that anything he planned ended up as trouble for someone.

Then she turned back to preparing their dinner.