Chapter Text
I get off the plane in Baton Rouge wearing a summer dress, blonde wig and the f*ck off uncomfortable full eye contacts that make me brown-eyed. I have a wheelie suitcase too which has my go bag and the staff (in two pieces) in it.
Time to rent a car.
It’s been a few months—I appeased Lapin’s nerves by taking some time off in the Bahamas and taking a job in Japan and one in Saudi in the mean time while he looked for an excause to bring me back to Louisiana. He hasn’t found an illegal one yet, but after what he told me I decided f*ck it and flew down here anyway. He has a point that my need to come back showed up out of the blue and has been niggling and niggling but there are a lot of things which happened. I’m sure he regrets letting me know on my call before I left Saudi that Julien is alive, which pisses me off even more because it means they let me think I killed him. Or maybe I did and they got that Candra bitch to resurrect him. I don’t know which is worse to be honest.
I have to wonder, though, if it’s part of the telepathic attack, at this point, but the only recourse I can think of, short of finding another telepath to fix it (f*ck, no) is just to let it play out and maybe it will go away.
It’s car rental of a small, very common, Nissan, and another AirBNB rented on the outskirts of New Orleans itself.
How to arrange seeing the house and family—there’s thought of trying to hire the Thieves Guild for something—but clients don’t exactly come to the house unless they’re Old Friends.
All the traveling reminds me that I need to put Turkey on the no-go list for jobs. I am never going there, because whatever that statue was might still cause mass devastation even with me not being as powerful as Super Gambit. Hopefully, it’s not a different country in our world. Haven’t run into it so far though and my world map has a lot of pins.
When I turn my phone on to set up the GPS I have several agitated messages from Lapin about me making dangerous choices and him being tempted to cancel all my bookings but knowing that it would have been futile. I pull off at the next exit and into a gas station parking lot to call him but get a text back about being in a meeting of some sort and that he’ll get back with me.
I drive to the AirBNB and figure I’ll just chill for a while it’s been a long journey: a flight from Saudi to London, England, a train from London to Manchester, another flight from Manchester to Atlanta, Georgia then one final flight from Atlanta to Baton Rouge. I’ve been traveling for 3 days given the various 2-6 hour layovers. Even with inducting another passenger into the mile high club there’s only so much relaxing can be done.
I start to undress and then remember I should check the place for creepazoid cameras. Nothing shows up which is good. My favorite thing about undressing is taking out the stupid contacts and stashing them in their case, but needs must, and at least I only put them on once I got to Manchester.
I lay down in the master bed and I’m soon asleep because the next thing I know Lapin calls. There’s that moment of scrambling around making sure I’m in the same place I lay down and no strange men or women have shown up sleeping next to me, and that is fine, and I pull the phone across to the bed, close to my face, given Lapin doesn’t want a show.
“So. You’re here.” Lapin says.
“Close.” I tell him.
“What did I say?”
“You said Julien is alive.” I point out.
“I also said don’t do anything stupid.” He says.
“You said don’t do anything I might regret and make things worse for myself.” I counter.
He makes that strangled noise, “You know dat’s da same thing, Rem.”
“I arrived in my blonde wig, a pink and blue sundress and dose stupid brown eye contacts.” I explain, “and I came straight here from da airport. You see me on da doorstep? Or at da Boudreaux house demanding Julien present himself for another ass-kicking.”
He sighs, “You feel any better now?” he continues, “You been…you been almost obsessive ‘bout getting back here.”
“A bit.” I admit.
“Really though. Tell me what bin going on wid you ‘bout dis? You get—I mean, you bin—” he doesn’t know how to word it and I don’t either.
f*ck, “Remember da multiple Remys?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever forget seeing dat guy’s face.” He says, “and you met 3 others.”
“Yeah.” I drag it out a moment, “I didn’t tell you ‘bout da first one.”
“You tol’ me he got snuffed by dat New Son guy.”
“He did. How I met him though. I was—I woke up in bed wid him. When we started texting and I kept on hedging ‘bout where I was for so long—it’s ‘cause I woke up in bed wid him and didn’t remember how. Dose days dey just a blur of noise and light, bits of casino, bits of…maybe club? First I thought maybe I got roofied den I thought—well, he suggested so maybe he in on it, but he suggested it was a telepath f*cked wid our heads—” I realize I’m crying when I have to find something to blow my nose on. Fortunately, the owner is the type who believes in fancy decorative tissue boxes.
“sh*t, Rem—why didn’t you say something. I’m over here thinking you went on a bender or I don’t know what just bein’ an actual bitch.”
“I don’t like to think about it. Having dis memory hole, and—I just…”
“You think it was your Marvel Girl?”
“You say stuff ‘bout dat before I thought you was just talking ‘bout some really good puss* I maybe had.”
“No. Jean. Marvel Girl—” he sighs, “You should have her in your text messages all over da place—let me—”
I minimize him to check the phone. Nothing, “Dis phone?”
“Yes.” He says, a little tersely.
“What wrong, Emil?”
“Nothing here in my server.” He says, “Dere no messages. You were talking to her for, like, a week—after da whole mess wid da sentinel.”
I shake my head, “Why I be doing dat?”
Lapin’s voice becomes almost raspy and his words all drawn out, “Because dey took you and healed you?”
I shake my head, again, but I’m going cold all over, “No. John had a doc he knew—took me dere. Den I…” I trail off. So, it’s not just a missing day. A week’s worth of memories been f*cked with, “So—did I deliver dat package?”
“Yes. You did.” He says.
“What da f*ck?” I mutter, “Why not only—but a whole week. What else could dey have?”
“I know you’ve said you’re pretty well telepathically shielded.” Lapin is trying to be encouraging but it just makes it worse. I realize then he’s not in his room. There’s movement behind him, fast. He’s driving, “You gon’ let me in when I get dere.” It’s not a question.
I better get dressed.
I throw on a tank top and some shorts and by then there’s banging on the door and he’s texting me that he’s here. I peek out the peep hole before letting him in.
He slams the door shut and locks it and then wraps me in a hug. We wind up kneeling on the floor because the well of upset is not as small as I’d hoped, and it howls out of me with fury and betrayal.
