Carry on my wayward son,
There’ll be peace when you are done,
Lay your weary head to rest,
Don’t you cry no more.
~ Kansas
Nights in Louisiana were harsh to say the least, especially when it was pouring rain and storming out like how it was now. Thunder roared loudly above, lightning flashing angrily beyond dark gray clouds, like an angry lion stalking its prey. Screeching winds whistled by at harsh, vicious speeds, forcing hair into his eyes and his body to shudder. The wind mixed with the rain made it impossible to see, the water splattering against the earth at an almost entirely sideways angle. The only reprieve was that it wouldn’t be as humid at night as it was during the day, although the mosquitos were always bad either way and the air was always charged with a sticky, oppressive heat, even during the winter and when rain splattered to the ground like tonight.
The young Cajun boy, Remy, was huddled into himself, using a dumpster as cover from the cruel Louisiana weather and the chilly nights in his old and ragged clothes. Remy sat amongst the trash and the garbage bags, holding the lid shut with weak arms since the angry gales kept causing it to rise, letting rainwater in and causing slight flooding.
He was about seven or eight- it was hard to remember how old you were when you didn’t have access to a calendar and everyone around you screamed bloody murder when you so much as looked at them— and quite thin, far too small for someone his age. His clothes were torn and dirty, hanging loosely from his slim frame, ribs poking from his dirty and bruised skin.
The bruises he had acquired were fairly recent, all usually given to him by angry, drunken men who thought he’d be a great punching bag or from disgusted shop-owners who had to chase out the filthy child with a broom, uncaring of what they hit so long as he scampered away and stopped scaring off their customers, calling out hurtful names and cruel sayings to him.
“Freak!” One would cry. “Le Diable Blanc!” Another would shout, pointing and screaming, causing a ruckus. Others would stare at his eyes in fear and call him a child of Satan, a beast that needed to be put down. Many would call him a monster, a rat, a demon. It was a lot for a child to handle, but Remy was a big boy. He could take care of himself! … despite how much it hurt to be hit and yelled at and called cruel names.
He was used to it by now, many of the other girls and boys at the orphanage had called him meaner and crueler things, but it always still made his chest ache and his nose burn, always made his heart hurt and his throat become dry and itchy as much as he tried to ignore it, always made his hands quiver and his mind to run around in circles, wondering why he was different and wrong and if he truly was a hellspawn or not. Why was he cursed to have demonic eyes? Why was he cursed to be hated? Was he truly not one of God’s children? Was he not human…? He wished he knew.
Remy had come up empty-handed on his most recent scavenging trip, almost having been caught picking several people’s pockets due to tiny mistakes he hadn’t made since his first few nights away from the Catholic orphanage. He had moved too fast, or not fast enough, or he’d accidentally brush against their bodies with his fingers…
Starvation was slowly getting to him, making him antsy and tired and so weak. He was barely clinging onto the dumpster’s lid, grimacing with how tightly he was holding it down, crying out in surprise whenever it lifted and he was showered with freezing water and chilling winds, his headache growing worse with each passing moment, his arms frigid and numb as well as his toes, the water in the dumpster now going to his ankles. The chilled liquid sent jolts of icy electricity through his body, his skin prickling uncomfortably as he shivered and shook, the hair on his body raising.
The boy shivered and prayed to God that the storm would end, that he'd have better luck tomorrow while scavenging and picking wallets and loose change from passerby’s pockets and purses. Although he knew better than to rely on luck despite his tender age.
Remy sniffled, shivering once more as the last vestiges of his strength began to deplete, his stomach gurgling loudly as he whimpered at the pain it brought.
“S'il te plaît… S'il te plaît, mon Dieu, donne de la force à Rémy… (Please… Please, God, give Remy strength…).” The young boy whimpered to himself, tears beading in his eyes as he begged and pleaded, praying for the first time since he left the orphanage three months ago.
The starving boy cried all night, sobbing quietly to himself, his unusual red-on-black eyes full of fear and hunger and desperation. He didn’t want to die… he didn’t want to die! Please! Don’t let him die! Not tonight! Please!
Remy truly didn’t know if he’d make it to tomorrow.
•••
Charles had always wanted to visit Louisiana- to see the sights and taste the food and to just enjoy the scenery and atmosphere- although he did wish it were under better circumstances. Up in New York, life was simply hustle and bustle, full of angry shouts and rats and angry men and women protesting against the mere existence of mutants.
Everyday was a struggle, constantly fighting for the right to simply exist. Everyday was a challenge and raising a young orphaned mutant such as Scott Summers was no easy task, however Charles wholeheartedly believed it had been the right decision to take the boy under his wing. And he also believed it had been the right decision to leave the boy to adjust back in the X-Mansion under the care of Moira, just to get used to other people who weren’t Charles- or Jean- once again. Not to mention the mansion was much safer than being with the telepath at this current moment.
And while he did feel rather guilty for leaving, especially without the eleven-year-old Scott, he needed to attend to business without putting the boy in danger… and unfortunately Magnus was a danger despite how much Charles wished otherwise.
The reason the telepath had flown all the way to Louisiana was not only for the sights- although he did quite enjoy the far more lively, open, and rowdy atmosphere- but because he had caught wind of the possibility of his long lost friend being in the Southern state to cause havoc and a mutant uprising, to cause pain to innocent civilians. If this were true, which Charles believed it may be, he’d need to stop it now. He needed to put a stop to it before someone got hurt, or worse, killed.
However, after reaching out to several of his Southern contacts and doing some research of his own, it would turn out that the ever-elusive Magneto being down south was thankfully just a rumor and now the professor could enjoy the sights and sounds of Louisiana without fear of there being mass human deaths and a large setback in his peaceful fight for mutant rights. He had felt immense relief that no uprising and unnecessary deaths would happen and the old telepath felt sorrow at the fact he still had no idea where his old friend was.
The telepath hummed as he carefully lowered himself into a regular wheelchair, deciding to use it instead of his hover chair due to the large storm swirling outside. He’d rather not risk damaging it if he could help it. He also chose it to allow himself to be far more discrete in case someone recognized his choice of vehicle.
Charles hummed a quiet tune, gathering up his umbrella as he calmly rolled out of his hotel room, closing the door behind him as he wheeled to the entrance of the hotel, thankful for his foresight of getting a room on the first floor.
He quickly opened his umbrella as he hummed, holding his aforementioned umbrella in the crook of his arm as he pushed himself forward, enjoying the early morning air and the lively weather. He quite enjoyed the rain and the storm had died down overnight, the harsh winds becoming calm zephyrs and the nice roaring thunder becoming less frequent with the flashes of lightning also growing further between each instance.
The man continued along, a soft smile on his lips as he looked around, seeing teenagers with their friends having fun, seeing couples, young and old, huddling together for warmth, seeing families playing with their children, caring for them. That sent a pang of sadness and desire through the old mutant, his own longing for a family resurfacing as he watched a young girl nearly trip, both of her parents immediately catching her before she fell into the cold slush of the street, making sure she was alright- which thankfully she was. Charles had always wanted a family of his own, something that would outlive him, something he’d create and help thrive into something incredible. Of course, he had never been able to achieve such a thing.
Charles sighed quietly and continued on, still enjoying the chilly weather before he suddenly sensed a sharp and violent pang of terror coming from nearby. His eyes widened slightly and he looked around, his brows knitting together in worry as he scanned his surroundings, using his powers to gently and discreetly probe the minds around him before his eyes snapped to a rather flooded alleyway, but he didn’t care and wheeled himself over.
“Hello…? Is anyone over here?” Charles called and the terror he felt in the air suddenly spiked,”I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”
He hoped whoever was deeply frightened wasn’t injured or hadn’t been harmed in any way as he sent out calming waves with his telepathy, lightly suggesting that whoever it was should come out if they were physically able, that Charles was not a threat, but a friend.
A light creaking echoed and the lid of a nearby dumpster peeked open. Charles was surprised to see two glowing red rings peering back at him. He stilled for a moment, staring back when the person blinked. He found himself in wonder, finding the eyes interesting and beautiful, quite unique.
The professor put on his most placating smile on, wishing to come off as friendly and non-threatening as he spoke softer,”Why hello there… who may you be?”
The red rings never left his form, but Charles could tell that something was wrong with whoever it was- he could sense the distress running through his mind and the telepath continued to send out calming waves. If he could help someone, he would without a second thought.
Silence hung heavy in the air for a moment before the lid moved up further, revealing a small child, much to the older mutant’s horror.
‘This poor boy… he’s so small…’ Charles found himself thinking, his brows furrowing in worry as he frowned.
“… call mahself Remy.” The boy mumbled, his young voice thick with the local accent.
“Ah, it’s nice to meet you, Remy.” Charles cleared his throat as he quickly plastered what he hoped was a comforting smile onto his face as he spoke,”My name is Professor Charles Xavier. Or just Charles.”
The boy with the unusual eyes- he must be a mutant, Charles asked himself- stared at him, his emotions all running through his mind and subconsciously projecting his emotions to the telepath. His body trembled and his skin looked far too pale, his ratty clothes hanging off his form much to the older’s dismay.
“Remy, when was the last time you ate?” The man asked, humming softly and using a rather child-like tone.
The boy continued to stare and Charles made sure to send even more feelings of calm and relaxation to the boy. He felt a sudden urge build within him to protect this boy, sensing his distrust and his hesitation and desperation. Charles could tell the boy was cold and he was sure that if he touched Remy’s skin he’d feel like ice.
“Mmm… Remy dunno…” Remy responded, his shoulders relaxing a fraction as he stood in his dumpster, goosebumps littering his thin arms,”Mebbe few weeks…?”
Charles was taken aback for a moment by the use of third person, but decided that wasn’t a priority as he felt rising horror at the child’s words. A few weeks? Oh, no no no! No child should be deprived of food- especially not in Charles’ presence. Especially not when he could do something to change that.
“Oh dear. You must be starving!” Charles cooed before saying,”Would you care to join me for lunch?”
It was quite a bit early for lunch, likely still breakfast time for most, but too late for others, however the older mutant didn’t particularly care about specifics at the moment. He had a feeling the boy hadn’t been dealt the best hand, especially considering how he was living- if one could even call it that- in a dumpster. Charles had to fight the urge to not roll over and scoop the boy into his arms. He figured that wouldn’t go over well with the young Cajun.
The boy shuffled in the dumpster, his hair long and messy and thick, falling into his captivating eyes as his face- which should be full and filled out with baby fat, not gaunt and skeletal- which scrunched together in wary thoughtfulness. Surprisingly, Charles couldn’t read his mind, however he could feel his emotions and his skepticism… interesting… the boy must be a mutant then- even more reason to take him in. If the boy would have him. Charles couldn’t force Remy to come back to New York with him, as much as he wanted the boy to.
The older mutant mentally removed the thought from his mind- he was getting ahead of himself. The poor boy looked so frightened and sickly- and maybe he was sick, the closer Charles looked. The stormy weather wasn’t helping anything either.
Remy stood in the dumpster, his fingers twiddling together as his mind comprehended what the older man said… this… Xavier guy seemed nice… but so did most of the adults Remy had met and many of them had tried to take advantage of him or snatch him up. Remy had barely escaped by the skin of his teeth on most occasions and he’s grown wary. The adults who didn’t avoid him because of his eyes tended to be the ones who didn’t care if he was a child or not.
Yet something was… different and Remy didn’t know what despite his instincts screaming at him to run away- it wasn’t like the man would be able to catch him anyways. Plus Remy knew these streets like the back of his hand so he could run away and disappear. But he didn’t. He stood there, shivering in his soaked-through and tattered clothes, contemplating as his eyes flickered across the man’s form.
Remy had been burned and beaten before, he knew pain and suffering. His stomach no longer ached with the desperate need for sustenance, but that hollow, empty feeling still remained, his small frame having grown used to the hunger and starvation ravaging it.
He was desperate and maybe that’s why he climbed out of the dumpster and cautiously approached the man in the wheelchair. Or maybe it was because the older man just… seemed different. Remy didn’t know and maybe he was just naïve, but either way it would turn out to be the best decision he ever made.
The man, Xavier- Charles Xavier, Remy reminded himself, smiled warmly at him, his face full of smile lines with his eyes gleaming with relief as he hummed.
“Please do not be afraid of me. I won’t harm you.” Charles kept his hands in his lap, holding the umbrella still as the boy finally approached, still keeping several feet of distance between them.
Remy found himself believing the man even though he knew better.
The boy found himself quietly walking in comfortable silence, the older man keeping the umbrella mostly above the Cajun instead of himself, much to Remy’s surprise.
“Mm. Now where would you like to eat? I’ve never been to this part of town- or to any part of New Orleans really, and I have been wanting to try the gumbo. I hear it’s wonderful down here.” Charles spoke softly, rolling alongside his young friend.
Remy’s eyes glittered at the mention of gumbo- he hasn’t had any in such a long time, his stomach grumbling as he perked up a little,”Remy knows de best place for dose t’ings!”
The boy’s sudden excitement in his exclamation was rather surprising due to the previous weariness from the young Cajun and caused the older man to chuckle,”Alright. Lead the way, Remy.”
Remy slowly got more comfortable with Charles as he began to talk animatedly, French words and English slurring together as he spoke quickly and rather animatedly, his emotions running high with excitement. Charles’ head span a little- he didn’t know much French, only bits and pieces, but seeing the boy come out of his shell even if it was just a bit was rather comforting.
Remy talked of random things- old toys he had when he still lived at the orphanage that he barely remembered, how he knew every street corner, every alleyway, the best places to steal from, he talked of the weather and how sticky it was when it wasn’t raining and the sun was shining, he talked about not being able to read much, talked of how people hated his eyes(that had gotten Charles’ attention- he adored the boy’s crimson eyes, how enchanting and different they were was quite fascinating and they all but confirmed his suspicions of Remy being a mutant), he talked of how he had learned to cook because of one of the nice nuns who had acted as a caregiver to him, but he hadn’t had access to a kitchen in so long.
All of the boy’s stories and words swirled around Charles’ mind in a whirlwind, like a tornado. He felt great sadness, but also intense amusement as the boy rambled about anything and everything, practically skipping along as he led the older mutant to a restaurant Remy had never eaten at himself, but tasted the leftover scraps of in their dumpsters. Charles found himself growing fonder of the boy as he responded to each and every little story and intricate detail as the small child babbled and rambled on, his excitement growing and his mouth watering in anticipation.
Once they finally reached the restaurant, Charles led the way inside and partially blocked Remy from view since he knew the boy would likely get dirty and dark looks sent to him, however unfair they were. The boy wasn’t exactly dressed nicely, not that he could help it, and this was definitely a much more expensive restaurant.
Remy sat across from Charles as the older mutant locked his chair in place and looked down at the boy who looked so out of place and just ecstatic to be hear, practically bouncing up and down in the booster seat Charles had asked the waiters to give him(Remy wouldn’t have reached the table otherwise). The young Cajun’s legs swung as his red-on-black eyes stared widely at the menu, just staring at the pictures of the food in awe- likely the most delicious meal the boy had seen in a while.
Charles felt a pang in his heart at the reminder that this sweet, adorable child had been living on the streets eating scraps and stealing to survive. Remy had rambled on about many things, including what he did on a daily basis and what had happened that had led to this point. The older mutant desperately wanted to take the Cajun home to New York, to raise him along with Scott and Jean, to protect him from the harsh realities of life just so he could be a child again. Charles had a feeling the boy hadn’t run away simply because he was desperate for food and Charles had offered to buy him some— also because the older mutant had sent calming telepathic waves to soothe the boy’s young and damaged mind.
‘It’s settled. He will live at the mansion if he wants to come back with me. I’m sure Scott and Jean will be ecstatic to have a new friend to talk to.’ Charles thought to himself as he quietly watched Remy stare blankly at the menu, blinking as he tried to sound out words quietly under his breath.
Remy’s brows were furrowed and knitted together in irritation as he tried to read the menu, only making out certain words as he huffed in frustration. He then looked up at Charles and flushed as he mumbled something.
“I’m sorry, Remy, I didn’t quite hear you… could you repeat that?” Charles said quietly, patiently- he had a feeling he knew what the boy was asking.
The younger mutant let out a quiet whine before asking,”Monsieur Xavier… Help Remy read…?”
Charles' heart melted- the boy was utterly adorable- and he gladly nodded and said,”Of course I’ll help you. And just Charles is alright, Remy.”
Soon the two of them placed their orders and just as the telepath had thought, his young friend had gotten rather dirty looks from several of the staff, some fearful and others disgusted just by his mere presence. Charles would not have that and as soon as anyone gave the boy any sort of look, he sent out calming waves to all those around him to soothe their disgust and fear.
“You know…” Charles hummed, grabbing Remy’s attention, his red eyes peering up at the telepath,”If you’d like, I wouldn’t mind helping you learn to read.”
Remy’s eyes widened significantly as he whispered in awe,”Charles… help Remy learn t’read…? For… for free?”
Charles felt yet another pang of sadness at the fact the boy sounded so surprised and he quickly said,”Of course, Remy. For free. I’ll help you read and even give you some books from my own collection, if you’d like.”
The younger mutant just stared, his eyes as wide as saucers and his face in pure shock. He stared at Charles, feeling himself grow hopeful for the first time in years. This Charles guy was so… nice and Remy only felt calm when near the older man- he was not like the others, not like the ones who tried to hurt Remy, who tried to use Remy. Remy felt his heart swell and his small chest constricted slightly.
The boy’s eyes glistened and he sniffled quietly, joyful and hopeful tears welling in his eyes as his lower lip trembled.
“Ah— Remy—!” Charles said, reaching out and feeling rather startled and a bit confused at the boy’s conflicting physical appearance and emotional wellbeing,”I apologize- I did not mean to make you cry…”
Remy wiped at his eyes and sniffled loudly again as he shook his head,”Merci, Monsieur Charles. Merci. Remy jus’… R-Remy jus’ surprised s’all.”
•
•
•
Charles ended up staying an entire week, just teaching his new young friend how to read, how to write, things every child should have the right to know. It took a while and Remy still didn’t quite understand, but that was okay. It was a lot for a child with no prior education to learn in one week and despite the boy being quite intelligent, Remy still had a long way to go.
The boy had picked up syllables and certain words rather quickly- having learned what they looked like before. Charles was impressed with Remy’s quick learning skills and praised the boy any chance he got, watching the boy’s eyes widen and his face go slack as he stared up at Charles With sparkles in his unusual eyes like the telepath were the most valuable thing in the world, as if he were someone to be worshiped and praised and respected.
Remy’s writing, however, would take a lot of time. Time that the older mutant did not have since he was leaving in about an hour in one of his private jets to fly back to his mansion. Charles was both excited and horribly heartbroken since he got to see Moira, Jean, and Scott once more, but he’d be leaving Remy behind if the boy decided not to leave with him.
It was now time for Charles to leave and Remy was practically inconsolable, whining and crying like a kicked puppy and Charles felt his heart shatter for the umpteenth time- this boy knew how to tug on someone’s heartstrings. The boy’s eyes were full of fat tears as he sniffled and cried quietly, making grabby hands at Xavier.
“Why Monsieur Charles leave Remy? Remy do better! Remy be better!” The young Cajun cried out, sobbing loudly as he whined and practically flung himself onto the older mutant’s hover chair.
Charles leaned down,”Oh, Remy…” he leaned over and gently carded his fingers through the boy’s less matted and decently clean hair(he had let Remy use his hotel’s shower and he had bought the young Cajun a new set of clothes- ones that actually fit him- as well as shoes and socks so his feet weren’t all cut up and scraped from running around in the streets) as he spoke softly,”It’s not your fault. I’m just returning back to my home.”
Remy sobbed louder as he clung to Charles like a lifeline, having grown to trust the man after he taught Remy how to read. He cried and cried and cried, sobbing loudly and blubbering. The man had also gotten him clothes and food and- and let him shower. Remy hadn’t felt this clean in so long.
“B-but Monsieur stay wit’ Remy! S'il vous plaît, restez avec Rémy! (Please, stay wit’ Remy!)” The younger mutant cried out, his words slurring together as he begged Charles not to leave in a confusing mix of both French and English.
Charles felt his own chest constrict as he leaned down and pulled the boy up off the ground and into his lap, the boy immediately clinging to him and burying his face into Charles’ chest.
“Shhh… shh… it’s okay, Remy…” Charles hummed as he tried to console the boy,”Shhh….”
He ran a hand up and down Remy’s back, smiling slightly as he realized he couldn’t feel the boy’s ribs as much as before. He then carded his fingers through the Cajun’s brown locks. Charles took a deep breath as he finally asked the boy what he had been wanting to ask Remy ever since they met.
“Remy.” Charles started,”Remy, look at me…”
He spoke softly and the young Cajun did, sniffling and peering up at the older mutant with those large, beautiful, red-on-black, puppy-dog eyes. His tiny fingers dug into the larger man’s back, but Charles hardly noticed.
The telepath gently wiped away the tears from Remy’s rosy cheeks with his thumbs as he said,”Would you… would you want to come live with me and two others back in New York?”
Remy’s already wide eyes somehow grew even wider as he heard the telepath speak. He couldn’t believe his ears. Charles actually… wanted Remy around? The young Cajun knew his Diable eyes never once bothered the older man, but the offer was too good to be true. He stared in disbelief as he subconsciously leaned into Charles’ touch.
“Remy live w-wit’… Monsieur Charles…? Monsieur Charles wants Remy to go wit’ him…?” The younger mutant whispered in disbelief, his eyes flickering across Charles’ face.
“If you’d like to. It certainly beats living on the streets, I’d say. Plus you’d have two friends there who are also rather new.” Charles continued to coo mentally as the boy leaned into his hand,”And it would let me know you’re safe and sound. I could teach you more about reading and writing—“
Charles’ eyes widened as the boy suddenly clung to him again, but now it was more of a hug than a desperate grasping gesture in a last-ditch attempt to keep him there.
“Oui! Oui!” Remy cried out, snuggling into Charles’ chest with a wide grin on his tiny face,”Remy go wit’ Monsieur Charles! Remy want t’read an’ write! Remy want to- want to meet dose two Charles mention!”
The telepath’s eyes widened as the boy shouted out his declaration. For a few seconds, Charles was speechless before his lips curled into a fatherly smile and he pulled the boy to his chest, hugging him back.
“Okay.” He said,”Okay.”
Charles would welcome Remy into the X-Mansion with open arms, spoil him, feed him whatever he wanted, buy him clothes and comics and toys and all sorts of things children should have. Charles swore on it that he’d protect Remy and Jean and Scott with his life, that he’d raise these mutant children to be the best they could possibly be. He swore on his life that he’d fight even harder for mutant rights just so these innocent children would never be turned out, would never be hurt or beaten or shunned again.
As far as Charles was concerned, Remy- and any other wayward mutant, child or otherwise- was always welcome into the X-Mansion. And Charles would welcome them with open arms and treat them as they should be- as children. Any mutant under Charles' roof would be seen as his children. And that was final.