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2020-11-05
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2007-06-04
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King of New Orleans

Summary:

Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: Marvel owns them. I'm just having fun playing with them. I'm making no money, please don't sue.
Summary: Logan's looking for a street kid he met and can't forget.
Notes: My own little AU. Forget Jean Luc, the Thieves, the Antiquary, and Sinister. None of that ever happened. Remy was abandoned by his mother the day he was born. This is my version of a song fic. The lyrics are at the end of the story.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1: King of New Orleans

Chapter Text

 

King of New Orleans
by BJ

 

Logan turned the collar of his coat up against the driving rain. It didn't rain often here, but when the storms blew in from the Gulf they were murder. He shook his head, and rain poured from the brim of his hat. He'd been in New Orleans two days now on a personal mission. He laughed quietly, truth be told, he really had no idea himself why he was in New Orleans in the dead of Winter, he just knew he had to be here. He was looking for a kid he met... stumbled across was probably a better description of the brief meeting... six months earlier. Now he was running out of time and totally out of options.He only had a week to do this and the kid was like a ghost.

His heart clenched when, not for the first time, a thought crossed his mind... maybe it was time to check the morgue. The John and Jane Does were usually stored there for a while before they were cremated. Most of 'em were homeless and had nobody lookin' for 'em, but the younger ones were usually runaways, and the boy he was looking for was pretty young... Remy's eyes gave him away though, and it would be assumed that wasn't the case for him.

Logan glanced down another alley as he passed it there was still no sign of the kid.

Thunder crashed above his head and he squinted against the rain as he turned his face up to watch. The lopsided BAR sign up ahead blinked and flashed as the bulbs behind the letters fought to stay lit just a little while longer. He stopped under the awning and took off his battered hat; shaking the rain from it and his coat before opening the door and stepping inside.

This wasn't a bar you went to with your friends to have a good time... this was a place you came to when there was nowhere else left to go. It was the kinda place you went to when you wanted to escape your demons, or ponder your miserable life.

The lights inside blinked with another clap of thunder and the patrons all looked up at them en masse, finding common ground with each other before they each went back to their separate silent musings.

Logan walked up to the bar an ordered a beer. He took a long gulp before turning to look at the men scattered around the small, dark room. Visions of the boy he sought flashed before his eyes as he looked at the worn down men. None of 'em was more than thirty years old he guessed; but their bodies were bent as if they were more than twice that. Their eyes were dead as they stared down at their glasses and bottles. Maybe it was the "What ifs" of their lives that haunted 'em, drove 'em into this hell hole. Maybe it was a tiny thread of hope they still clung to that tomorrow would be better... Logan hoped it was the latter for at least some of 'em. It was just too much to think they were all as lost as they looked.

"Get y' another?" the bartender asked, and Logan was drawn back from his thoughts.

"Sure, and keep 'em comin' if ya don't mind."

"I don' mind, 's y' money son." He placed a cold bottle in front of Logan, "Mind if I ask why y' here? We don' usually get strangers this far off the beaten path."

Logan wiped off the top of the bottle and took a quick drink before he answered, "I do mind," he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a twenty, "but this looked like just the kind o' place to come to get some information." He slid the twenty across the bar and took another drink.

The bartender looked at the money, then back at Logan before picking it up and wiping the bar, "No promises I got the inf'mation y're lookin' fo'."

"Well let's try and find out," Logan smiled and lit a cigar. "I'm lookin' fer a kid, boy maybe twenty years old."

The bartender laughed and waved his hand at the lost creatures scattered at different tables around the place, "plenty o' boy's 'roun' here... take y' pick."

Logan felt the anger rise up through his body like a wave. He glanced again and saw that a good portion of the men in the place were young, maybe even too young. They looked up at Logan as if on cue, their eyes suddenly filled with resignation, their scents filling with fear. He saw the three doors down the dark hall past the restrooms that he'd missed at first glance. He fought the sudden and intense urge to jump the bar and remove the smile from the bartender's face permanently.

He closed his eyes and rolled his shoulders trying to relieve some of the stress he found he was suddenly filled with.

*****

Remy shivered and pushed wet strands of hair back out of his face as thunder crashed above him. He looked up the street, and then back the way he'd come as he rubbed his hands together for warmth. It wouldn't do to get caught by the cops again, he wasn't considered a minor anymore.

He'd wandered much farther than usual with the hope that getting closer to the main tourist areas would get him a little innocent business. He really didn't want to have to go to the bar, but the rain had been falling for three straight days and the few tourists that bravely wandered far enough off the usual paths were staying on Bourbon St. in the cafes and bars there. There was no one to charm with his card tricks and he was so hungry that he was starting to feel sick. A sudden gust of wind made him clutch himself tighter in a vain attempt to hold onto the little body heat he had left. The rain soaked tee shirt and jeans, and soaked boots he wore weren't helping any. He cursed and sat on the wet stairs behind him, and tried to light his last cigarette. He wished for a lighter; using his powers when he was this run down would drain the tiny shred of warmth he had left, and leave his head reeling.

He gave up and tossed the broken cigarette aside when he heard someone at the far end of the street. He stood and ran his fingers through his long bangs so they fell in front of his face as the two men approached. He broke his shades a week ago and didn't need a beating because of his strange eyes.

This would be easier if there was a woman with them, they were generally kinder than men, but he'd just turn up the charm a bit more. "Hey Chers," he smiled as they came closer, "Wanna help a boy out? Bet I c'n guess which card y' pick?" he turned up the charm a little more as he fanned out the damp deck of cards he kept in his pocket.

The men abruptly stopped their conversation and looked up at him. One of them was clearly disgusted that he had the nerve to even look him in the eye, the other leered at the obviously starving boy and Remy was suddenly scared. He'd known men like this one before, his sordid thoughts swamped Remy's sensitive mind making him shiver for reasons other than the cold.

Damn gutter punks. The man on the left knew what the kid really wanted, he was nothing but one of the dozens of whores that lived here on the streets. He wished the whole lot of 'em would catch something and die.

The man on the right pulled a card out of his pocket. "I don't wanna see your card tricks boy, but if you wanna show me something else give me a call," he laughed as he slapped the card against Remy's chest then let his hand slide down and around to his ass as he passed. They continued down the street without stopping, their conversation changed by the encounter.

Remy sat heavily on the wet stairs again and dropped his head into his shaking hands. That had been close. He noticed he was still gripping the man's card a moment later and threw it in disgust. When his heart stopped pounding and the wetness in his eyes passed, he stood. He looked up and down the street once more as thunder crashed again.

There was no one coming out in this rain.

With a heavy heart he walked across the street and slowly bent to picked up the soggy business card and slid it into his pocket. He felt the other card he kept there and his thoughts turned to the stranger who'd talked to him back in the summer. He felt moisture building in his eyes again and blinked it back. He thought of the man every time he was forced to prostitute himself for money.

Maybe someday he *would* leave this place. He'd save his money somehow and he'd go to New York and see if the man remembered him too. He took a mental count of the little bit of money he had stashed in a can where he slept the night before... it wasn't enough for a room.

His hand shook a little as he pulled out the wet business card again and slowly made his way to a pay phone.

*****

Logan reigned in his anger and finished his beer. "His name is Remy, y' know him?

The bartender took a step back away from the man and his eyes shifted to the other young men in the bar. A few of the younger ones were looking wide eyed at the stranger. "Plenty o' boy's here who can show you the same good time," he said, a little wary of the man now. "Why y' want Le Diable Blanc when you c'n have a normal?"

Logan stood, and started for the door. He wouldn't get the information he needed from this guy, he'd have to move on to the next place. As he reached the door he let the claws slide free of his hand and ran them along the wall leaving three parallel scars behind. He figured the bartender would understand the message.

He stood under the awning outside to light a cigar when the door opened, "M'sieur?"

He turned slowly and came face to face with one of the younger boys from the bar. "Yeah kid," he said quietly so he wouldn't frighten the obviously skittish boy away. This was what he'd hoped to accomplish. This boy could probably lead him straight to Remy.

"Why y' lookin' f' Remy?"

Logan stared at him a moment. He was well under the legal age; thin and in need of a bath, but he looked healthy enough. He's one of Remy's, Logan thought to himself. He knew enough about these kids to know that sometimes the younger kids stayed close to the older boys for protection. The older ones took on the parenting role, and let himself be used to spare the young ones the same fate for as long as he could. The older boys usually didn't have very long lives. They died long before old age could claim 'em. It was a hard, sad life for them. "I ain't gonna hurt him kid, I just wanna talk t' him. I met him last summer, and I just wanna make sure he's doin' okay."

Something in Logan's reply answered some silent concern, and the young man nodded to himself as if coming to a conclusion. He looked back toward the door nervously before looking Logan in the eye, "Then y' need t' wait. He'll be back... he promised," was all the kid said before he re-entered the bar.

Logan put the cigar in his mouth and strolled down the street not content to just sit and wait. He asked himself again what the hell was he doing in New Orleans on a stormy Winter night. There were better places to be; more important things to do than find a street kid he barely knew. Then Remy's face flashed before his eyes again and his reason for being there became very clear again.

~*~*~*~*~

He'd come down on a mission. The team managed to get their job done and since they weren't especially busy at home Logan stayed behind. He took a tiny room in a dumpy little hotel way off the main drag. He drank and smoked and loved for a week.

On his last night in town, as he walked to get something to eat, and maybe a little company for the night, he happened upon a fight. When he pulled the guy on top off and turned to the one still down on the street he found himself staring into the most intriguing eyes he'd ever seen. He couldn't tear his eyes away from 'em. Red on black and unbelievably unique and beautiful. Man number one came at them again screaming that the kid robbed him and cheated him out of a blow job.

Logan's head snapped back to the man on the ground and saw that he *was* just a kid, late teens at best. He was about to ask the kid a question when the first guy kicked him hard in the ribs. The kid could do nothing but curl up in a ball of pain and vomit.

Logan threw the older man against a dumpster and pinned him there with his claws. "You don't gotta hurt 'im. I'll get yer damn money fer ya." He turned back to where the kid had been and all he saw was a five dollar bill in the puddle of puke. The kid was gone. He sighed and walked over to pick up the money. "Five bucks? You were beatin' the shit out o' that kid fer five bucks? Y' damn pervert, I oughta gut you! He was a kid," he growled and threw the soiled money at the man. "Get the hell out o' my sight." He turned from the man, forgetting all about food and pleasure and closed his eyes trying to pick up the kid's scent.

It wasn't hard to track him. He hadn't made it far before the urge to empty his stomach hit him again. Logan found him down an alley, one shaking hand braced against a wall. He was in the midst of a particularly hard bout of dry heaves, "Kid, you gonna be okay?"

Logan startled the boy so bad that he dropped to his knees and turned so his back was against the wall. He was pale and panting from the shock, but it only took a moment for a mask of indifference to fall across his face when he saw who it was that followed him. "I be jus' fine Cher. T'anks f' th' save back there, but I coulda handled ol' John on m' own. He stiff m' las' time. I was jus' gettin' back wha' was mine."

There was a determination in the kid that made Logan want to smile. He'd been at this for a while. Logan held a hand out to let the kid know he meant no harm before he reached into his pocket to pull out a rumpled fifty, "Well then I guess I owe ya the lost money plus some interest." He held out the money to the boy.

Remy's hand turned to a fist as he stared at the bill. It would buy him something to eat, get him and a few of his friends off the street for a night, maybe even two but... He dropped his head with an almost inaudible sigh; his hand went to his stomach and he winced as he coughed a few times. He stood slowly on shaky legs and braced a hand against a wall to keep himself upright. "Non, Merci. Remy don' take charity." He waved his free arm out toward the city behind them, "I don' need to, I be th' king o' N'awlins," he said with a smile and a slight bow that made him wince again.

Logan felt his heart sink. This kid had probably been doing this his whole life.

He'd seen it before... young kids with obvious mutations abandoned on the streets by the people who were supposed to love them unconditionally. He took a really good look at this Remy; he was tall and rail thin. There was an unmistakable grace about him that even a blind man couldn't miss. And underneath all that, and the dirt, and the poorly fitting clothes Logan could see that he was proud. He wasn't a push over this one; he knew how to take care o' himself, and he did it any way he could. Probably late teens, eighteen or nineteen years old was Logan's best guess...God, all those years alone. "Well at least let me buy ya some dinner then...yer highness."

Remy lifted his head, and Logan got another look at those amazing eyes, "Non, like I say, Remy don' take charity, bu' if th' kind sir wan' somethin' else..." He let the sentence hang. Let the John fill in the blank.

He almost said yes. He'd pay the kid then just ask him to sleep with him. He could feed the kid , let him take a shower and sleep as long as he wanted without having to pay for it. He *almost* said yes, but this kid, this Remy... somehow Logan knew he wouldn't go for it. His pride wouldn't allow him to stay. "You takin' care o' anyone else?"

The question threw him for a second. How could he know? "Maybe."Remy felt his pocket and pulled out a bent cigarette then lit it with the tip of his finger.

"You got any other tricks?" Logan asked. This kid should be at Xavier's.

The kid, glanced at him through his long bangs and smiled as he blew out a puff of smoke, "Maybe." The smile faded and Remy suddenly looked very tired. His face was still pale, making his extraordinary eyes look even darker. "Look Cher, I got a long night ahead o' me... you interested?"

Logan looked at him again and sighed, frustrated by the situation and the boy's stubborn pride, "Sorry, I don't do little boys." He turned to leave, "Try t' stay out o' trouble," he said as he started back out of the alley. The fifty dollar bill slipping from his pocket as he went.

"Y' know it," Remy winced as he pushed himself away from the building. He saw the guy drop the fifty for him. He bent carefully to pick it up. The kick to the ribs had been vicious, he still felt a little sick. He walked slowly to the end of the alley and saw his Savior about to turn the corner, "M'sieur!" He jogged a few steps before his beaten body protested and he had to slow to a walk.

Logan heard the kid call him from the alley and stopped, leaning back against the wall to wait for the him.

Remy was panting, and holding his ribs when he finally reached the man, "I think y' dropped this," he said as he held out the money.

Logan's brows rose, he was returning the money? "Look kid-"

"What's y' name Cher," Remy asked, his head tilted to the side.

"People call me Logan," he answered quietly.

Remy looked down at the street, "I ain't got much M'sieur Logan. Been livin' on these streets since I can r'member." He shrugged, giving Logan the impression that he believed this was his fate. "Only steal when there's no other way. I do card tricks t' pay f' m' food and bed and when I can' do that..." he blushed a bit. For some reason it was very important that this Logan understand that he wasn't just another whore. "I don' got much," he repeated as he finally looked back up and met Logan's deep blue eyes, "But I do have m' pride. I can' take this. Merci." He lifted his chin a bit and held the folded bill out again.

Logan took the bill and put it back in his pocket. "Yer somethin' kid. I don't know many who'd turn down a little help like this. That pride o' yers is gonna get ya killed someday."

Remy chuckled and looked around, "They been tryin' but ain' nobody kilt this boy yet. Le Diable Blanc got nine lives Cher. Jus' like a cat."

An uneasy feeling filled Logan at those words, had the kid been fed those words so long that he finally believed 'em? There was nothing more he could do so Logan held out his hand, "Good luck kid. Watch yer back, okay?"

Remy was stunned that this stranger was showing so much concern. He wiped his hand on his dirty pants and took Logan's, "Merci. Maybe...maybe if y' ever come back..." Again the sentence dangled, leaving it up to the John how it would end.

" Maybe kid... maybe." He didn't want to go. There was something in the younger man's eyes that told Logan that it wouldn't take much more to break something inside the boy. That pride of his was faltering and when it did the kid was gonna crash... hard. The truly sad thing was that Logan knew in his *gut* he could be so much more than this if he were just given a chance. As a last thought he pulled a card out of his pocket, "This is where I work, it's a school in upstate New York.It's...it's fer mutants... like us." He let the tips of his claws break through his skin. He watched mesmerized as those intoxicating eyes grew huge as his claws retracted and the skin healed. "If you ever find yerself up there and ya wanna come by..."

Remy blinked out of his shock and laughed as he looked at the card. He wasn't sure of all it said, but as he was about to hand it back he met Logan's eyes again. He held the gaze for a moment before nodding, and putting it in his pocket. "Merci. I'll hold ont' this." He sighed again, and his mask slipped for just a moment so that Logan could see a confused, uncertain, very tired young man again, "I gotta get t' work." He wiped his hand again and held it out, his head held high, his mask safely back in place, "It was real nice talkin' t' y' M'sieur Logan."

Logan took the hand again and gave it a little tug as he shook it so the younger man was close enough that he could feel his warm breath on his skin. They looked into each others eyes a moment before he leaned in for a kiss. The boy sighed and deepened it and when he tried to pull back Logan wrapped an arm around his thin waist to hold him there a while longer. He pushed the money into the Remy's pocket with his card, "Now you've earned it," he said quietly as he turned and left the stunned boy standing there alone.

~*~*~*~*~

There was an instant connection between them that Logan couldn't explain but he learned a long time ago that sometimes you just didn't try. It was subtle but undeniable, and it had been driving him to distraction since he left here the last time. He had to see Remy again, make sure he was alright. it was like an itch he couldn't scratch. His gut was telling him that he was meant to find the young man, that they were supposed to be together, that he shouldn't have left in the first place. He took some personal time to come back down and look. Maybe if he found the kid again this feeling would go away

He tossed the end of the cigar away and glanced at a street sign to see how far he'd wandered while he was lost in thought. He was almost to Bourbon St. and the crowd of tourists and locals was starting to get thick and loud now that the rain had finally stopped. They'd been couped up for days and it was time to get out and start having some fun again.

There wasn't much chance of finding Remy this far from his usual haunt. He doubted the cops would let him alone and unassailed this close to the main tourist areas. The boy's physical mutation would probably frighten most people. He sighed, and checked his watch, it was four in the morning. He growled low in his throat, he'd been looking for days without any luck, and he knew it was long past time to stop but he couldn't.

He felt like the kid was so close. "Come on kiddo where the hell are ya?"

*****

Remy groaned as he woke up half dressed behind a dumpster. No tellin' how long I been out, he thought to himself. He could hear the crowd of tourist out on the main street so it'd probably been close to an hour. He started to push himself upright when he was stopped short by pain. He hissed as he pulled his left hand up close to his body. It hurt like all hell. He felt his pocket clumsily with his shaking right hand... the little bit of money he managed to make was gone.

He allowed himself a moment to be weak as he lay there in the alley, it wasn't like he could hold back the tears anyway. He was scared, and he hurt, and he was just a kid, dammit! That should matter to someone, shouldn't it?

He refused to let himself dwell on the events of the last couple of hours. He could do that later after he collected the boys, and made sure they were safe. They pro'ly think I abandoned 'em b' now. After a few more minutes passed he elbowed himself slowly into a seated position but regretted it as soon as he'd accomplished it. He took a few deep breaths to regain control of his runaway emotions; the sharp stabs of pain that shot across his lower back, and the deeper burning pain inside were bad, but not as bad as the pain in his heart.

He swiped at the tears that refused to stop running down his face.

This was it... the moment he'd tried so hard to avoid all these years. Another sniffle escaped him... he was one of 'em. Nothin' more than the rest of the gutter punks on the streets.

With his useless left hand pulled close against his chest he stood up clumsily and tried to straighten his clothes. The guy with the business card had been rough, and his friend apparently hated mutants more than whores. He came along as backup but decided to join in when he saw how much fun his friend was having. It became a whole new kinda game after that.

If he wasn't so weak from hunger they never would've touched him, but he was hungry and tired and in freezing by the time they met him in the alley. When the friend walked away and the business man started reaching into his pocket, Remy thought it was over.

He took a small step when he found his balance and cursed, bending with a hand against the wall, to wait out the sharp stabbing pain. It had been a while since he had to do that and it hurt worse than he remembered. Of course the last time he hadn't been beaten and robbed too. He made it about twenty yards before he had to stop again. Bastards didn't even use condoms when they raped me he thought. He was overcome by flashes from the assault and slid down the wall in shock, unable to take another step.

*****

Logan's eyes narrowed as he noticed the man about a half block ahead of him. He would have blended into the steadily growing crowd if not for the way he was walking. His left hand was pulled in tight against his chest and his right slid along the wall to support him as he moved slowly down the street. He finally just stopped, and slid down the wall, too drunk or stoned to continue.

Logan's gaze locked on the man when all he could manage was to turn away from the taunts of a passing group of drunken teens, there was simply no fight left in him. When they realized they couldn't get a rise out of him the leader kicked his shoes causing him to fall over and the light from a street lamp illuminated his gaunt face.

Logan's breath caught as he whispered, " Oh my God...Remy..."

Until that moment Logan didn't understand the force that was driving him back to New Orleans to find a kid he spoke to for less than ten minutes over six months before.

Watching Remy fall victim to the teens, obviously hurt or sick changed that.

Time slowed down and his heart started pounding in his chest. Every protective instinct came alive as he started to move again already trying to assess the kid's condition from half a block away. His eyesight narrowed, focused on Remy lying there helpless as the drunken kids shouted obscenities and laughed. He ignored the curses as he pushed his way through the crowd that was gathering to watch.

He had one goal... reach Remy.

The growl started low but was deafening as he reached the kid. The group of teens was already turning the corner when he dropped to his knees and eased the boy carefully into his arms. "Remy? Remy!" Logan cursed as he moved his hand from the back of his head,and came away with blood. He checked for a pulse and found it rapid but weak. He was in shock; freezing cold, and most likely suffering from a concussion from the blow to the head. "I've got ya Remy," Logan whispered as he pushed damp strands of dirty hair from the pale face. "Every thing's gonna be alright now. I'm here now, and no one is gonna hurt ya anymore." He pulled the unconscious form close to his chest before he lifted him and started the long walk back to his hotel.

TBC in Breathless

 

 

BETTER THAN EZRA

"King Of New Orleans"

There's an angel on the stairs
(as if you'd even care)
When the lights go up,
and the sun has nearly gone down.

Did you see him on the street?
Did you pass him at your feet?
Did you think aloud,"how dare they
even look me in the eye'?

And he loves the girls.
And he loves the boys.
Going to make twenty dollars
before the weekends over.

So set him up,
Let him fall.
Turn him over in your hands.
God save the King of New Orleans.

Got a ticket to a show.
Going to see him take a blow.
When the drunk one said,
"Cat Sssstevens was the greatest singer!"

And did you kick him in the head?
Did you see the blood run down? Did you laugh at all when the
people walked right by and said aloud,
"You gutter punks are all the same.
"Probably make twenty dollars 'fore the weekends over."?

So set him up,
Then let him fall.
Turn him over in your hands.
God save the King of New Orleans.

Radio in my head.
Radio in that car.
Going down again,
he's going down again....

Anyway you look, anyway you talk it over.
It's easier to let it slip out of your mind.
But it rips your heart out.

Then it kicks your head in.
Just give him one more chance,
try to see the beauty in his world.
All the way in on my hands, in on my feet,
and shoulders. Going to make twenty dollars
before the weekends over.

So set him up,
Then let him fall.
Turn him over in your hands.
God save the King of New Orleans.

God save the King of New Orleans.