Title: "His Lady Rogue"
Author: Pirate Turner
Rating: PG
Summary: A tender moment shared between an introspective Joseph and his lady Rogue.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Het
Challenge: None
Word Count (excluding heading): 718
Feedback: Yes, please, unless it's from close-minded Romy fans!
Archive: WWOMB, -- Anybody else, ask, and I'll probably grant permission.
Disclaimer: Joseph, Rogue, Remy "Gambit" LeBeau, and the X-Men are & TM Marvel comics and Disney, not the author, and are used without permission. Everything else is & TM the author. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.

He gazed at her sleeping form and wondered how he'd ever gotten so lucky. He had credited the nun with rescuing him, but he knew now that that had been an untruth. She had truly saved his life from terrors he could not even remember, but it had taken Rogue to breathe life into him. She had saved him, not only his life, but his soul.

Sometimes he wondered what would have happened to him if he hadn't met her. He would probably have ended up returning to the farm and the children there. As much as he had known he should stay away from them, they had needed him and welcomed his help. It was strange, but somehow, even back then, he had known that he'd never truly felt welcomed anywhere. Feared, yes. Needed, yes. But never, without a question and with whole hearts, welcomed. It had been something he'd needed sorely and something that, before Rogue, he'd never felt anywhere else.

Rogue stirred in her sleep, and Joseph reached out a hand to run his fingers through her hair. His palm touched her cheek, and she stilled. He had devoted his life to the one woman before him, and yet all he could think was that he needed to do more. She would have been terrified if she had known he touched her so easily for although he had finally learned how to touch her, she was still unable to touch without fear of possible consequences.

If she could touch, he wondered, who would she choose to touch? He knew the Cajun still lurked in her mind and feared he always would, though he also knew he'd never deserve her. He himself did not deserve her wonderfulness, but Gambit deserved her even less. She had loved him once, perhaps still did, and he had always done nothing but bring her harm and heartache.

"Never," Joseph whispered in the still, early morning air. "Never will I harm you, my love, nor will I ever take for granted one second with you. You are everything good in my life, and if not for you, my sweet lady, I would surely perish -- though that would be a matter of little importance, as my life would be as empty and dry as the desert, worthless without your shining star in it."

Surprise caught Joseph as Rogue reached a gloved hand up and grasped his gently. Her green eyes opened to gaze up into his baby blues, and his heart thrilled as it always did when she looked upon him with kindness and love shining in her emerald orbs. "Are ya gonna stand there talkin' all day, Joseph, or are ya gonna come down here an' hold me?"

"Never would I dismiss such a pleasurable and honorable invitation, my beloved." His smile brightened even more as he lowered himself to the bed behind her and ever so carefully wrapped his arms around her. He touched only her clothing, keeping just enough distance between them that her silken hair would not touch his face lest the caress frighten her.

Rogue sighed as she settled into Joseph's loving arms. She let her eyes drift back shut as she thanked her lucky stars for him once more. No one had ever treated her with the respect, love, kindness, and understanding that he did. No man had ever been willing to only hold her and wait, least of all that dratted Cajun she had spent far too much time on. She knew Joseph was fearful of her relationship with Remy, but a friendship was all that could ever be between them now for her heart had been captured fully by another. "Ah love you, Joseph," she whispered, squeezing his hand gently.

"I love you too, my sweet Rogue," he whispered in return, lifting his head just enough that he could kiss her clothed shoulder. Then, in the quiet of the cold, winter night, he continued to hold her while she slept once more, thrilling at the warmth she filled him with and the knowledge that her love for him had not yet dimmed. He prayed it never would and that one day, he would have a new honor, that of placing a ring upon her finger and calling her not just his lady but his wife.

The End