A lot happens in this chapter and we'd really like your opinion: GOOD AND BAD. In short: Read and Review!

Thank you in advance for you continued cooperation.

Hehe,

kisses From James and Marina

With no battle plans, no looming war over their head, the week had passed blissfully by for Belle and Remy. They had spent time out on the town, enjoying Easter in one another's company, hosting the annual Easter egg hunt for the Assassin and Thief children. It was a wonderfully fun event...and speaking of bunnies, Remy and Belle had been going at it just like a pair of them. Every day had been spent filled with picnics in the park, a swim in the old lake, visits with old friends and to top it all off, mind blowing sex. You'd think they'd get tired of one another...but it just didn't seem to be the case. For the first time in a long time BellaDonna and Remy were truly happy.

It had been almost two weeks since Bruno had been killed and the Destroyers were driven from New Orleans. Once again, everyone was lulling themselves into a false sense of security...especially Belle. The morning had started off sunny enough, clouds drifting over the sun occasionally and darkening the room. For once, Remy had gotten up before her, perhaps making breakfast in bed as he had promised to do one of these days. Even as badly as she wanted to sit in bed and wait for him to come back for a morning romp, a hot shower was calling her name.

Rolling out of bed, she pulled her blue silk bathrobe from the closet and wrapped it around herself. Padding into the bathroom, she turned on the water as hot as it would go; she stepped in, letting the hot water soothe her body. Distantly she heard a phone ring and merely ignored it...someone else could get it this morning.

Remy had, in fact, been doing just what Belle had assumed. He was down in the kitchen whipping up pancakes and sausage, toast with butter, and some freshly squeezed orange juice. He had just put it all on a tray to carry upstairs, when he heard the phone ringing. He looked around, and poked his head out of the kitchen to see if anyone else was around to answer it. Unfortunately, no one seemed to be picking up. Sighing, Remy grabbed the nearest phone while he carried the tray up to their room. "Hello, dis be Remy." The voice on the other end of the line nearly made Remy drop the tray...Charles Xavier.

Remy recovered enough to not make a mess, and began talking to the older mutant. "Oui, Professor, everyt'ing be fine here...Oui...Non..." He closed his eyes and mentally cursed for having answered the phone. Belle was not going to like this. "Oui, Professor… I understand, au revoir." He hung up the phone and opened the door to the bedroom; luckily Belle was taking a shower. That bought him some time… he didn't want to have to tell her just yet. The tray was sat down on the bedside table, and Remy quickly began getting dressed in his combat gear. Belle really was not going to like this.

The smell of her lilac shampoo wafted around her as she stepped out of the shower, wrapping her towel around herself. On another morning, she might have spent a half hour or more under the water but she had someone to hurry back to today. Not to mention, she was hoping that her favorite (and only) lover had food; she was ravenous. Opening the bathroom door in nothing the blue silk robe, cracked open to show just a little bit of skin, she smiled at the man and the food. Unfortunately, her smile was short lived; Remy was putting on his trench coat, his boots..."Chere, w'ats goin' on?"

Remy turned to face Belle as she emerged form the shower. The fact that she did not startle him even a little, and the fact that her scantily clad body was having no effect on him, provided evidence that he was entering combat mode, fully alert. He sighed and motioned to the still hot breakfast. "Remy made y' breakfast, chere." He sat down on the bed, so she could sit near her food, and ran a hand through his hair. "Remy t'inks you bes' sit down, He need t' talk t' y'."

Belle knew this was going to happen...he was going to get a call and he'd rush off to play hero to someone other heroine. She just never expected it to happen so soon. He'd only just arrived, she'd only just gotten him back...this wasn't fair! How could God be so cruel as to grant her this one wish and then take it away all in the blink of an eye, "I don't wan' t' sit down, chere. I wan' an answer, a straight answer!" She refused to budge until she knew what was happening.

Remy rose from where he was sitting and walked to stand in front of Belle. "Okay den, Belle." He took her hands in his and a sad look crossed his face. "Xavier called, while y' was in de shower. De X-Men operate in teams an' Remy's team had time off while Remy was gone. But the ot'er team, dey was on a mission and got ambushed. Xavier, he tried to fin' a way to get dem back wit'out havin' t' call for Remy, but he run out o' option, chere. De team needs me. Wolverine, he'll be 'ere in an hour wit' a plane, den me and him, we's goin' t' join de res' o' my team and save dem."

The last thing she wanted him to do right now was touch her. If he touched her it was over, she'd be the simpering, crying girl he'd left in New Orleans the first time; she practically ripped her hand away when he tried to take it, "W'ats dat mean den, chere? Y' go save dem from untimely destruction and den what?" She snapped. She couldn't help the tears that were slowly building in her throat.

Remy winced as she pulled her hands away. Hurt managed to break through the mask of combat preparation and showed clearly on his face. He had to take a few breaths to calm himself and keep from crying like a babe. "Dat, Belle, depends on how bad off de ot'er team is. If dey hurtin' somet'in' fierce, den Remy got to stay dere, and take up da slack. If not, Remy can come back." He turned away, unable to face her for the next bit. He could only manage to speak it in a low voice, almost a whisper. "But, dey has been missin' f' t'ree days now. An' dey had Scott wit' dem. Dey been gone dis lon' wit' him as team leader, dere's little hope dat dey aint hurt, or worse. Remy most likely won' be able t' come back."

Turning her back, she choked back the first sob. If she thought him leaving the first time hurt, the second time was about the blow her away. The rush of emotion, the pain, anger, nausea, passion, fear...all of it slammed into her at once. "Don' bot'er comin' back dis' time, chere," her voice and hands shook violently. "Belle will no' be de girl trailin' on y' heels for de rest of her life. I ain' gunna be 'poor Belle' all over again." Walking to the bedside table, she opened the drawer, "Y' gave dese t' me on my weddin' day," the diamond engagement ring and the simple gold band gleamed in the early morning sunshine. "Well take dem back, 'cause Belle ain' gunna be dat girl again." With an assassin's eye, she hurled them at him, the metal bouncing against his chest and falling onto the floor before him. "Go an' take de BMW, I know y' like it...consider it a goodbye present."

Remy watched the rings hit is heart and clink to the floor. It seemed to move in slow motion, like the last sight of a dying man. And it was. He'd continue living, sure, but inside, he was broken, dead. She was telling him not to come back, she didn't want him. He'd told her this might happen, he thought she had understood. He might not be able to return right away, but once the other team was back to full strength, then yes, he could come back. But she didn't want him back. He took the staff out of its holster, and extended it, using the end to pick up the rings. He held them in one hand, and a single tear fell onto them. He closed his fist around them and grabbed his already packed bag. All he could bring himself to do was nod. As he reached the door, he stopped and looked back at her over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Belle. If y' don' wan' t' see Remy, den Remy will stay ou' o' N'Awlins. Remy ne'er meant t' hur' y'." He closed his eyes and took a breath. "Au revoir, mon amour" As the sound of a distant plane came into hearing range, Remy walked out of the room, and closed the door.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Belle lost control. Her knees buckled, her chest heaved and she cried. She cried until she was literally sick, her face flushed with fever and her stomach knotted; she cried until the sunlight faded into blackness. She cried until there were no tears left and, still, she felt a twisting ache inside of her. Remy was gone, again. She was alone, unloved; tired and sick...this was her reality, her curse. Never again would she open herself up again; she couldn't bear it.

The high-pitched whine of the aircraft's engines started to die down as Logan and Remy ran through "power-down procedures". Once they were sure everything was in order, Remy lowered the boarding ramp and stood up. "Logan, Remy gonna go check on de 'Fearless Leader' over dere." All he got in response was a grunt from the older mutant.

Remy left the cockpit and walked to the back of the plane; he looked down at the sleeping mutant on the medical bed. Seeing Scott worn out like that shook something vital in Remy. This was their leader, the man who led them fearlessly into combat time and time again. And yet, here he was barely alive when they found him. Sighing, Remy lifted Scott and carried the man down the ramp to the waiting medical team. He'd have to give them a full report soon but for now, Scott's health was Remy's main concern.

Jean looked at Remy expectantly, waiting silently for news. As soon as Remy opened his mouth to recount what had happened, his mind drifted back to six weeks earlier, when the second team had completed the first team's mission. They had rescued the Blue team and gotten them out of the facility when Logan pointed out what everyone else had been accounted for…and Scott wasn't with them. The other team recalled Scott being taken away and not being kept separately. With a little skill and a lot of prayers, the Gold team got all of team Blue out…but that still left Scott. Logan and Remy had volunteered to stay with the second craft and search for Scott. It had taken a lot of courage, and brawn, especially when it came to rescuing their fearless commander.

War cries had echoed through a shrouded overseas military base where mutants were being experimented on, followed explosions and gunfire. The only reason they managed to find Scott in all the chaos was because Logan could smell him. They'd gotten Scott out, freed some other mutants to serve as a distraction, and hightailed it back to the aircraft. One week later they were home. Well their home. Remy didn't think of it that way anymore, his home was once again New Orleans.

He hugged Jean briefly and patted her back comfortingly. "We got 'im back. He'll be jus' fine, I guarantee." He smiled as he pulled away and called over his shoulder to Logan, who was exiting the plane. "Remy gonna go take a shower. Six weeks o' fiel' work no' make Remy smell like roses." He chuckled and moved on out of the lower levels and to his room for a long, hot shower. He had more than the pressure of the mission to wash away; he needed to wash away Belle's last words to him, too.

The flushing sound of the toilet had become quite a familiar tattoo for Belle; every morning, every evening she was plagued by some unknown sickness that devastated her body. In six weeks she had become so frail-looking that Questa had actually taken pity on her; he began doing some of the reconstruction work that Belle needed to get done. New Orleans was slowly making its way back after the last big hurricane and Bruno's destroyers. Belle was the primary advocate for rebuilding her beloved city...or, she had been before she became so ill.

The first week after Remy had left, she was ill from crying and missing him. She yearned for him with every fiber of her being; god, how she wished that she hadn't sent him away. But then, what difference would it have made if he left in two weeks or two years? She'd still be all alone, picking up the pieces of her shattered heart; at least, now, she had a chance to get over it. Or, as it turned out, maybe she didn't.

By a month after Remy had taken off, Belle began to suspect that something was horribly, terribly, irrevocably wrong with her. She was late, for Christ's sake, she hadn't been late since she was thirteen years old! Panic rose in her throat but she forced to back down. So, she was late! Who cared? She was under enough stress as it was...it couldn't be anything more than that. Right?

Wrong. Two weeks later, Belle was still becoming ill...violently, unbearably ill and she was so dreadfully late. She sat at her desk— the very desk that Remy and she had made love on one night—her personal calendar was open in front of her. Wildly she flipped through it, "Dat's t'irty-five, t'irty six..." Fuck.

With the firm intention of going for a walk to calm down, Belle bolted down Bourbon Street. The pharmacy sat on the corner; its doors open to the breezy, warm spring weather. She didn't care about the weather though; she wanted to know immediately what was going on. It was a good thing that the man working in the pharmacy didn't know her and kept his mouth shut when she threw a box on the counter along with twenty dollars. "Keep de change," she snapped and half-walked, half-ran into the ladies' bathroom. Closing the door, she shut it and locked it up tight.

Directions were simple enough, pee on the stick...two lines, pregnant, one line, not pregnant. How could she screw it up? Well, it was that simple...she couldn't, because she already knew the truth. Putting the seat of the toilet down she waited and waited...lord almighty, it was the longest three minutes of her life. She was determined not to peek, as that could skew the results. She had to know...she just had to.

Seconds ticked by and finally, it was time. Belle pulled the cap off the pregnancy test and shut her eyes against the truth. Burying her head in her hands, she shook with tears. Remy was gone and now she was pregnant...no, no this couldn't be happening. Except that all the signs were there: the breast tenderness, her sense of smell that was off the wall, awful morning sickness that—by the way, was in no way, shape or form limited to mornings, and she'd gained a small amount of weight that seemed to have settled in her hips and her breasts. There was no misdiagnosis here...and BellaDonna was in big trouble.

Remy shut off the water as the last of the hot shower ran down his back. He ran a hand through his hair, which had gotten pretty long in his six weeks on that mission and scratched his chin through the small beard that was forming. He stepped out of the shower, walked over to the bed in his room and let himself drip dry; he didn't even have the energy to towel himself off. For about the fiftieth time since he'd come into the room since his return, he eyed the cell phone sitting on the nightstand. He could pick it up, and call her, see how she was doing. Tell her he was ok, and wanted to come see her. No, she had told him to stay gone this time. He picked up the cell phone and looked at it. It'd be so easy to just dial the number, right? With a sigh, Remy set the phone back down and started to get dressed for the day.

Morally speaking, she was going straight to hell. She'd been married and divorced, a big no-no in Catholicism and now she was pregnant, out of wedlock at this point, with her ex-husband's baby. It was no wonder God was pissed off with her at the moment...she had broken just about every cardinal rule there ever was. Things could only get worse from here, she thought.

A knock on the bathroom door told her that some other pharmacy patron needed to use the restroom. She had to get off the pot; she had to make her choice. It just seemed wrong to think about destroying this baby… on some level, she wanted this baby more than anything she'd ever wanted before. This was Remy's child, his parting gift to her. And speaking of Remy, what rights did he have here? Would he want this baby? It was all a mess, a giant mess...and BellaDonna, for one, needed some time to think about it.

Remy stepped out of the walk-in closet fully dressed, sans shoes, and stopped by the nightstand again. His eyes drifted to the phone once more, "Remy, w'at de hell y' torturin' y'self for?" Angrily he grabbed the cell phone and debated chucking it out into the hallway. With his current luck he'd peg Logan square in the head and then a fight would ensue. The last thing he needed was someone sending Belle a picture of his body with six claw jammed through him. He laughed morbidly at the thought, and then hit the button on the phone. Speed dial for the Guild house. He listened, and soon a younger male's voice answered. Remy cursed and asked after Belle. He was promptly told she was not there, but that a message would be delivered to her on her return. Remy gave the kid, for he surely couldn't be older than some of the fresh graduates here at the mansion, his cell number. He hung up and sat down. He didn't expect her to call back. In fact, he expected that if she called, she'd be yelling at him for trying to talk to her. Women and their damned emotions!

Questa assaulted her the second she came through the door telling her that Remy had called and he wanted her to call him back. The man was busy, seeing as he was the co-Viceroy to the guilds right now. The paper revealed the number but BellaDonna didn't want to look at it. Crumpling the paper, she chucked it aside before heaving herself onto the bed. Slowly her hand came to rest over her abdomen. There wasn't much change, was there? Sure she looked a little heavier but...she had chalked it up to the late-night ice cream that seemed to keep her mind off men in general. In truth, his child was growing inside of her...and despite the fact that they had parted on bad terms, he was still persisting. For once in his miserable life he was fighting for something he loved; after all these years he was finally learning from his mistakes. Yes, BellaDonna would call on him...but she wasn't going to be using a phone; that was for sure.

Remy hoisted himself off the bed, and walked out of the room. He needed some food. Field rations had run out by the third week and while Logan could get by on eating the fruits of the wilderness and had once offered Remy some, Remy had no desire to follow suit. So he had resorted to bits and pieces of edible food for the rest of their six week ordeal. Needless to say, no meat did not make for a pleasant Remy. He casually descended the stairs and passed the giggling crowd of girls who had come to see the object of their late night desires return. He waved off handedly to the pair who vocalized their pleasure at his return, and strolled right to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and was disappointed there were no leftovers. "What's dis? Remy ain' here t' cook, so no one bothers to do so?" His hunger and rage over his parting with BellaDonna were starting to take a toll on him.

He finally decided on some pasta with chicken; it was simple and he'd make extra for some other time. Besides, he doubted that Logan wouldn't smell the cooking food from outside and come lumbering in for a free meal. A final sweep of the fridge showed that they at least had bought some beer while he and Logan were gone. "Mercy, beer. How Remy has missed you. Let me count de ways." He laughed a little and popped the top while he started on his meal.

BellaDonna's call to Xavier had been...enlightening to say the least. At first she had been reluctant to call him; he was Remy's mentor and friend. He'd probably heard all about BellaDonna and what she'd done. But the man seemed perfectly amiable on the phone and it was almost like he knew she would call. Their conversation had included her asking him if he might have a guest room available for a little while...for, say, nine months or so. He had been shocked at first, but quickly told her he'd make arrangements. It wasn't that Belle was sentimental about Remy being present at the birth… but she couldn't give birth to a child in New Orleans. No one could know about this…if it got out that BellaDonna was pregnant and unwed, there would be a riot in the guild. At least, if she had time to recover after the birth before going back, she could fight for her position. Besides, Remy had the right to know he was going to be a father. Even if he wanted nothing more to do with her, he would still be this baby's father.

Remy finished making the food and had already gone through two beers. Logan had not shown up, so Remy figured the older man was either not hungry or had some unfinished work to attend to. Remy left some for him, wrote Logan's name on the side of the container, and grabbed a third beer. He was about to head back upstairs when Xavier's mental voice called to him. He went to see the founder of the Institute, and was promptly made aware that a guest would be staying with them, and, could he please make sure the third floor guest room, two doors down from his own, was ready? Remy agreed, and quickly went to work, wondering why this task had been given to him, and who this guest was. Remy shrugged it off, the man had his reasons. If he'd paid more attention, he would have seen the smug, knowing smile that graced Xavier's face moments before Remy left the office.

Midnight struck with a vengeance. Belle was up, hurling that night's ham dinner into the toilet; damn, once she got her hands on Remy she was going to kill him! Her bags had been packed by Marta and arranged into a large black SUV; air travel was too risky at this point and she wanted a giant vehicle so that any accidents that might occur would be minor. People on the road were crazy and she wanted to protect herself and this child. The route to New York was incredibly long; well over eighteen hours...there was no point in delaying the inevitable. After all, Questa had agreed to take over for her during her sabbatical and all of her affairs were in order. All she had to do now was focus on herself and her baby. With the radio tuned and her life in hand, Belle pulled away from her ancestral home and began the most difficult journey of her life.

Remy finished with the room after five hours. New sheets were put on the bed, he had vacuumed, dusted, made sure there was a fresh bar of soap and some shampoo in the bathroom, restocked the medicine cabinet with band-aids and such, just in case, and made sure all the dresser drawers and the closet were empty. He was tired, but he still couldn't sleep. He walked back down stairs to the recreation room and turned on what looked like the sports channel. Seeing some old hockey games on, he smiled and sat down to watch a couple. Maybe the reruns of the game would help put him to sleep. It worked all too well, for within half an hour he was passed out on the couch, the game still on.