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[personal profile] curtkenobi
So...I should be doing classwork...cos I need to be done with two whole courses by mid-next month (no way, really)...but anyways...I decided to fic write instead because I'm a horrid, horrid procrastinator I had an idea.

I've read a couple of fics where Remy has a child, and they kind of fascinate me, so I decided to do a somewhat movieverse (okay, kinda more like pick-and-chooseverse, as [livejournal.com profile] enemyfrigate calls it -- who btw, writes awesome Lomy fics) fic where he ends up back in New Orleans after the whole Three Mile Island disaster cos he heard about Bel having a daughter (most fics have him with a son, and even though I like that idea better, I figure I'd try something new). Also, in my little world, Remy got taken to Three Mile right after he was kicked out of New Orleans on his wedding day for the duel with Julien. So yeah, that's the beginning background. It's another semi epic idea. I need to stop with those. I've got like, what? Four? Geez. But anyways, I like this one so...

Oh, yeah, and I like accents, if my Trainspotting love doesn't give that away, and I reckon Remy's gets thicker when he's in familiar/familial turf, like everybody else I know...>.>


(The lyric from the cut is from "Shimmer" by Fuel.)


Bella…

The look of utter shock that had met him when the door swung open had faded into jaded passivity and a hint of aggravation. “Whatchu wan’, Remy? I don’ wan’ not’in’ t’ do wi’chu.”

“Belladonna…”

“What I say, Remy? Leave. Git de hell on. I don’ wan’ ya t’ darken my do’ no more. Aller. Y’ might as well’ve really been dead.”

That hurt. Remy winced; that hurt more than he wanted to admit, even to himself. He caught the door as Belladonna Boudreaux attempted to slam it in his face – again. Her icy blue eyes lasered him from beneath dyed-black curls. He met her glare, ounce for ounce. He didn’t have an issue with Bella – didn’t want to have an issue with Bella, but the girl had never made anything easy. Being with her had always been either love or hate.

Right now was a “hate” moment.

“Look, Bella. I know. I know ‘bout her.” By the way the Assassin’s lithe body went utterly still, Remy knew she hadn’t expected those words – didn’t know what to do with them. He pushed further, in words and on the door. “She’s my daughter, too, Bel.”

Belladonna crossed her arms across her chest, face like granite, but her teeth were bared ever-so-slightly in contempt. The subtle look didn’t set well with Remy. In fact, it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Too righ’ she ‘uz yo’r chile,” Bella said in a low, accusatory tone. “Fo’ sho’ was yo’ chile wit’ dem’s devil’s red eyes.”

Remy sighed. Caught between rage and sorrow at her words, he took the latter route and murmured ruefully, “Dat never bot’ered ya, Bel. Dat’s yo’r daddy talkin’.”

“What d’you know, Remy LeBeau!” Bel spat in anger. Remy understood she was only yelling because he was right. Suddenly, her words ran back through his head.

“Now, what d’ya mean ‘was,’ Bella? Where is she? What happened?…” His eyes flashed red. “What’d you do, Belladonna?” He had to consciously will himself not to charge the door beneath his hand at the thought.

Belladonna took two steps back. He could almost feel her apprehension – saw that “oh, shit” look clearly cross her face. She reschooled it into a full sneer. “Jes’ like dat, Remy: lookin’ like de soulless demon y’ are. A fuckin’ diable blanc.”

Remy swallowed hard. He didn’t have a fight with her, he kept telling himself. He didn’t have a fight with her.

Didn’t mean he didn’t really want to blow something up right this moment.

“Bel,” he said through gritted teeth, “I always knew y’ could be a righteous fuckin’ bitch, but now, right now you’s jus’ bein’ a heartless cunt.”

Her gasp of indignation and slack jaw were little gratification. “What’d you do, Belladonna? Where is she?”

Fiery anger flashed through the sleet blue eyes, and Bel was screaming. “What’s it matter t’ you, Remy? How d’y’ even know? Ain’ like you been ‘round or nothin’! Bein’ the fuckin’ trash y’ always were, weren’t ya? Killin’ m’ frere and den jus’ runnin’ out on me?! What does she matter to you? Did you ever think what I had t’ go t’rough, Remy? Dat ever cross yo’ mind? Ever t’ink how bad it hurt me? What is ‘uz like fo’ me, wit’ de bastard chile of the devil’s boy T’ief? What I had t’ do t’ her?”

Is that what you thought, Bel? Dat I ran out? Remy thought at the back of his mind. But that was an issue for another time. He hated how wretched she looked right now, black tracks down her pale face from her tears running her mascara. Half her words he knew weren’t from the Belladonna he had known before he had been exiled and kidnapped, experimented on and worse; in the years he’d been gone, her daddy had really warped her head. Damned shame. He reached out what he called his charm, emotionally reaching out like a caress to her. “What did you have to do, Bella? What happened?”

Bella felt the empathic caress try to soothe her. Remy’d always hated to see her upset. Devil’s child or not. He really had always cared, always tried to keep her happy, whether he could do it by his own sheer charm or his mutant charm. She hadn’t always treated him right, but he’d always tried to do right by her. Damn him.

With a choked sob, Belladonna collapsed, legs just going out from under her. Remy knelt before her. She was back to that day, back when her father had come and taken the baby as soon as he learnt about her. A keening wail slowly escaped her. “He took her. He took her ‘way. Oh, bon Dieu, he took de baby ‘way.” Bright blue eyes looked at Remy, pleadingly. “I didn’ treat ‘er right, I know dat, Remy. Didn’ take care a her. I didn’t…I didn’ know what t’ do…didn’ want not’in’ t’ do wit’ her. I shou’n’ta done dat, but… I’m sorry, Rems. I —”

“Bella,” Remy interrupted, a hand upon her shoulder. He tried to ignore the anger that flared at the notion she had done wrong by an innocent child, let alone let her be taken away. “Bella. Come back here, Bel. Tell m’ what happened. Who took ‘er?”

Blood-shot blue eyes met Remy’s. They were that smooth grey-hazel colour again, she noticed. “Daddy took ‘er. Said de Antiquary’d lost his last prize; said…‘dis red-eyed bastard’ll do jus’ as well as de ot’er.’ ”

Remy’s blood froze. That was a name he had hoped never to hear again – ever. The Antiquary was the dark spectre that presided over the shadowy memories of his early years, times that came back to haunt him in night terrors along with the worst of instances he could vividly remember. He knew his mind was detail-oriented – it was part of what made him one of the best Thieves in the world, and he didn’t ever forget much, if anything. Most things he did “forget” weren’t forgotten; he’d blocked things away. Like times when he had lived on the streets as a child, some of the time at Three Mile Island, the moments before his cousin Etienne died. But all the time before he had ended up on the streets at six was a blank – he couldn’t bring it back to mind when he tried, like he could every time else. He got flashes sometimes, but nothing concrete. He had heard once that the human mind could block out instances it finds traumatic, too much to handle.

If that was any indication, his daughter was in a place he really didn’t want her to be. That no one should be.

“I…I t’ought m’ père had run him out…” Remy said weakly, hoping against hope that maybe Bella had it wrong. He doubted it.

“Non.” She sniffled, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. “Jean-Luc jes’ got ‘im t’ go t’ ground. When he took y’ in, de Antiquary lost all a his sway ov’r de Guilds – but he’s still ‘round, Remy. Velvet Ministry an’ all. And Daddy took de bébé to ‘im.”

Remy got to his feet, grabbing Belladonna by the shoulders to pull her up to hers as well. He wrapped an arm about her and walked her into her house, to the sofa in the living room. He was damned glad this wasn’t the Boudreaux manor. Bella took the handkerchief he offered up from his back pocket.

“I’m gonna get her, Bel.”

Belladonna wiped at her eyes and looked up. The cool look had come back into the pale blue of her tear-reddened eyes. “G’wan, den. But don’ bring dat chile back heah, y’hear me? We done, Remy. I don’ wan’ not’in’ t’ do wit’ you no mo’, an’ dat means dat chile, too.”

Remy sighed, looking from beneath his overgrown bangs at her. “Say whatchu will, ma chérie. Didn’ plan t’ no way. Bonsoir, Bel. Mebbeh when we cross path’s again it’ll be differ’nt.”

Bella only snorted and looked towards the kitchen.

Shaking his head, Remy headed for the door. He paused, a hand on the knob and one resting on the frame. Without turning, he softly threw back, “Je t'aime toujours malgré tout, Bel.”

Si te veux, Remy LeBeau,” sighed Bella. She knew he meant what he said, though.

She wasn’t sure if she did.




Translations:
Aller - go
Je t'aime toujours malgré tout - I always love you anyway
Si te veux - Whatever

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