Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel, etc.

Rating: Rated for a bit of violence, a bit of strong language and a bit of sexy stuff. But probably nothing too strong.

Author notes: To all my dear Romy fic friends - here's a festive thank you present to you! I am so stoked that I managed to do this on time this year, so... WOOT! Merry Christmas everybody, many thanks for all the wonderful reviews and encouragement you've given me throughout the year. Don't gorge on this one too much, and most of all, enjoy! :)

Love,

-Ludi x

CODA

Chapter 7

It was midday by the time Rogue woke up, and this time the queasiness was back in full force. She waited for it to pass, but instead it only increased, and a couple of minutes later she was vomiting noisily in bathroom.

Merry Christmas, gal, she thought miserably to herself afterwards. There were only a few more days to go, and she was feeling decidedly un-festive. It made it worse when Remy appeared from wherever he'd been hiding, and declared:

"Hey, Anna. Pere wants to see us. Kinda like now."

"Can't it wait?" she snapped back irritably. She heard him step up to the bathroom doorway and ask her worriedly: "Chere, you okay?"

"Do Ah look okay?" she asked him grumpily. It took him only a couple of seconds to size up the situation.

"Oh," he said.

"Tell Jean-Luc it'll have to wait a bit," she grumbled, flushing the toilet. "Ah feel sick as a dog right now. Gawd, bein' pregnant sucks," she added in a sullen undertone.

"Um… Sorry?" he tried. The ridiculousness of the statement almost made her smile, but not quite.

"Ugh. What do they say? It takes two to tango, right?" She went to sink and got out her toothbrush.

"Okay. I'll go tell pere. An hour okay?"

She waved him off and he sensibly retreated. Making babies, it turned out, wasn't half as fun as people made it out to be.

-oOo-

Two hours later and they were both sitting in Jean-Luc's office.

Remy had floundered and fussed over her, whilst Jean-Luc had calmly and quietly poured her a coffee and made sure her seat was comfortable enough for her.

"I really appreciate you comin' t'see me, Anna," he said sympathetically once they were all seated. "If there's anythin' at all I can do for you, at any time, jes' let me know."

"Thanks," she replied, feeling more than a little embarrassed about all the fuss. "Honestly though – Ah'm fine. Ain't gonna kill mahself comin' down here t'see yah. Ah just needed a li'l time to… um… feel better."

He gave her an indulgent little smile.

"Anna – you're pregnant. It's fine. Dis is what happens. We're all here t'support you."

This was rapidly getting more embarrassing. She nodded her head and mumbled her thanks. It was strange and disconcerting, to feel this vulnerable and subject to the homely goodwill of others. She wasn't used to it, and she could tell, from Remy's awkward though well-meaning silence, that he wasn't either.

"So," Jean-Luc fired in his son's direction, swiftly getting down to business. "I hope you told her what's happenin'. If you didn't, you're an idiot."

Remy shifted awkwardly in his seat.

"Yeah. I told her." He glanced over at her, then back at his father. He looked like he was going to say something for a minute, but thought the better of it. Jean-Luc shifted his gaze over to her.

"And I'm guessin' you don't approve," he stated wryly. Something in the way he said it intimated that he didn't either. It was a relief to know that someone else was on her side.

"If you're talkin' about this 'Winnowing' thing, then no. Ah don't approve." She almost felt Remy stiffen beside her, and she softened herself with an effort, adding, "But it's Remy's decision, and Ah guess Ah support him, even if Ah think it's a dumbass thing he's doin'."

Jean-Luc gave a rare, genuine smile at her candour. He looked over to Remy.

"Well, mon fils, looks like you got y'self a fine rare femme here. Once who's willin' t' support you, however much of a couyon you might be."

"Believe me, pere," Remy replied dourly. "I know it. But there are some things I know Anna ain't never gon' be dumb enough to s'pport me in, no matter what I say or do."

He got that right. She was glad he knew it.

"The only reason Ah'm willin' to go along with this," she felt the need to explain, "is 'cos Ah believe Rem when he says he's doin' this for the good of our kid, for it's future." She passed him a pointed look. "Even if Ah don't understand completely why riskin' his life is for our kid's benefit at all."

The statement caused Jean-Luc to look over at him sharply.

"I was wrong. You are an idiot. You ain't told her the whole story."

Remy squirmed visibly, and she glared at him.

"Ain't told me what?"

To his credit he didn't avoid telling her this time. He looked her straight in the eye and said seriously: "Our kid will be the heir to the Guild."

She gaped. The revelation was so stunning that she was confused.

"What?"

This time Remy was silent, tongue-tied, and Jean-Luc hastened to explain: "Henri is next in line to inherit the role of the Guild's Grandmaster. Remy, unfortunately, is an exile an' therefore ain't legible to inherit. That makes your child the next successor."

Rogue sucked in a breath. The more she heard of this, the less she liked.

"Ah don't understand," she blurted. "Henri and Mercy—"

"Henri and Mercy can't have children," Remy interjected quietly – another revelation that left her scrambling for words.

"Our kid… Next in line… To be Grandmaster of the Thieves Guild?" she stammered out the words in disbelief. Suddenly all her dreams of a normal, simple life were dashed.

"Oui," Jean-Luc nodded. She glared up at him.

"And what if they don't want to be Grandmaster?"

Jean-Luc's countenance was stoic.

"Dat would be up to them."

She exhaled noisily.

"Okay," she reasoned out to herself. "Ah get it. This is more than just makin' sure that our kid is able t' come here to see their family without the Assassins kickin' up a fuss. This is about makin' sure their position within the Guild is secure. That there are no questions about their… legitimacy… to inherit when – and if – the time comes."

Again, Jean-Luc nodded.

"Somethin' like that."

She looked over at Remy, who was sitting, looking straight ahead.

"Remy," she said, demanding an explanation with that single word. Again, he looked at her, with more honesty than she knew he was comfortable with.

"Anna, believe me. Dis was way down on my list of reasons for doin' dis. It don't matter to me whether any of dis makes our kid a legitimate heir to the Guild or not. They'd always have de right t'decide whether they wanna take on dat burden or not." He paused, adding in a lower voice, "I just want 'em to have a choice."

Anna chewed her lip agitatedly, not knowing whether to validate that with a reply.

"Well," Jean-Luc broke into the uncomfortable silence. "All this leads to the reason why I asked for you t'come see me." He paused briefly. "Remy, your petition was heard last night. The Assassin's Guild agreed to your request."

Remy was uncharacteristically silent at the news, but Anna knew exactly what it meant.

"Meanin' the Winnowin' goes ahead," she stated flatly.

"Oui," Jean-Luc agreed. It was what Rogue had somehow been expecting all along, but the confirmation was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Has a date been set?" Remy was asking.

"Non," Jean-Luc replied. "Not yet. Dat'll come durin' de negotiations." He glanced over at Anna. "All de details will be discussed durin' de negotiations. You won't be allowed to attend, Remy, not in person. Mattie, o'course, is still speakin' on your behalf, but… Anna, as de future mother of an heir, you'd be entitled to attend." That too was a shock, and she opened her mouth to answer when Jean-Luc added quickly: "Don't worry. No one's expectin' you to, me least of all. I jes' thought you should know."

She clamped her mouth shut. She was grateful for that at least.

"No one but you and me, Remy know that Ah'm gonna be the future mother of anythin' right now," she muttered.

"Henri and Mercy know," Remy informed her, and she gave him another glare which prompted him to say: "They guessed, when we were swapping wine the other night. Mercy's too damn perceptive for her own good."

She smirked, remembering Mercy's timely offer to cut out shopping yesterday.

"Haaah. Explains a lot. Damn."

Still, she felt sorry for Mercy. When she thought of her and Henri, and the sentence they faced – a life without a child of their own – a circumstance that had obviously had a lot of discussion – she felt sad. At the present moment it was the only thing stopping her from feeling cross with Remy for neglecting to tell her another important fact – that, and a sudden wave of nausea hitting her out of the blue.

This time she knew exactly what it meant. She got up quickly, startling both Remy and Jean-Luc in the process.

"Ah gotta go," she muttered.

"Chere." Remy's expression was full of concern. "You okay?"

"Ah don't feel so good," she said, edging her way towards the door. Remy was already half out of his seat.

"I'll go wit' you."

"No." She paused, waving him back down. "Don't. Y'all obviously need t'discuss this… And Ah ain't in danger of droppin' dead right now, don't postpone anythin' on mah account." She glanced over at Jean-Luc. "Thanks for keepin' me clued in," she said, and left.

-oOo-

It was about half an hour before she felt halfway normal again, and she lay on the bed and rested for another ten minutes or so before Remy returned.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "Just… If this is how things are gonna be for the next few months, Ah can't wait for this kid to come out."

She sensed there was a little smile on his face, but when he came and sat beside her on the bed it was gone. Instead he put his hand over hers and said: "Sorry. Again. For not tellin' you about our kid bein' next in line after Henri. T'be honest, it was de last t'ing on my mind, and as far as reasons go for doin' this, it was pretty much at de bottom of de list."

She was amazed that he was finally beginning to get that keeping things from her was not going to fly in the long run.

"Yeah?" she grunted sourly. "It's a pretty important thing to forget t'tell me though, sugah. Ah mean, our kid? Grandmaster of the Thieves Guild?" She made a rude sound. "Hardly sounds like the normal life Ah've been thinkin' of, Rem."

"Our kid's never gon' have a 'normal life'," he reminded her pointedly, and she eyed him sardonically.

"Yah know what Ah mean, sugah. No offence – your family are sweet an' all that, but nothin' with them could even remotely be classified as 'normal'. And Ah'm an ex-X-Man."

He took the point graciously, she thought. When he scooted round to face her more fully, his tone was more conciliatory.

"Listen, Rogue. I don't care whether our kid decides t'be a part of de Guild or not. Dat's for dem t'choose. What I care about is dat dey have a fam'ly here dat dey can be a part of."

"Ah get that, Remy," she answered tiredly. "But that kid's gonna have a helluva responsibility, if they're the only heir there is, havin' t'choose b'tween takin' on a criminal guild or disappointin' their family. You may not care, but they might."

Remy breathed in heavily and studied his hand in hers.

"I know, Anna. But dat's de way it's gotta be. I can't change de way t'ings have turned out, I can't choose who dis kid's fam'ly is or what their life is gonna be like. It's an insane balancin' act, Anna, but… I'm tryin' t'do what's best for them. To make t'ings as easy as dey can be for them."

His tone was plaintive, and it touched her despite herself.

"Ah get it, Remy," she answered softly. "But for Pete's sake, Cajun, you're not in on this alone. Ah know keepin' secrets is just part of how you operate, but we're a team now. I gotcha back, darlin'. Please don't hide anythin' else from me, if you can help it. Ah think Ah've been through enough shocks to last a lifetime."

He gave her a smile that she figured was worth all the false starts and the frustration. Gently, tenderly, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. And yet again it made her wonder about the change in him, about the things the Phoenix had showed him, about the things she'd burned away, about the things she'd never know.

-oOo-

The lead up to Christmas was hectic, a tornado of tinsel and presents and lights and delicious scents that she hadn't experienced since her time with the X-Men. It was the weirdest thing, to realise that there were places in this world that misery and suffering hadn't touched.

The LeBeau's and their retainers were kind and generous, making her feel as welcome as if she were one of them, but she still felt like an outsider, a stranger looking in. After all the pain and strife she'd been through, simple joy and happiness was a surprisingly difficult thing to assimilate.

Christmas Eve arrived, a day that had always been just another day to her, until she'd found herself here. It was a relief to know that she wasn't the only one who felt like a fish out of water.

"Seems weird," Remy had remarked as they'd both stood by, watching the festivities and the frivolities going on by the gaudily twinkling Christmas tree. He smirked as a drunk Emil and Theoren fought loudly over who was going to entrap an attractive and non-too-impressed third cousin under the mistletoe.

"Ah dunno," she shrugged. "Ah seem t'remember you tryin' to lure me under the mistletoe once. Even though Ah woulda put your ass in a coma for the trouble."

"'Trouble' ain't how I'd describe kissin' you, chere," he quipped slyly, taking a sip of his drink. She scoffed, lifting her own glass to her lips. She'd given up the pretence of drinking alcohol, but so far no one had brought her up on it, or even seemed to notice.

"Ah know what you mean though," she said, returning to the previous subject. "It does seem kinda weird t'be celebratin' when there are mutants out there who are still sufferin', when you've spent so long tryin' to make a difference. And Ah know things are better now than they've ever been, and maybe we should be tryin' to celebrate that, but… It still feels like none of this matters somehow."

He didn't say anything, but laid his glass aside and looked at her expectantly.

"Wanna get outta here?" he asked her.

She didn't answer, simply putting aside her own glass, taking the hand he offered her, and following him out the room.

-oOo-

They took a cab to the French Quarter, and Rogue was pleasantly surprised when they pulled up outside the famous Soniat.

Somehow Remy managed to book one of the best rooms in the house, and the best extras to boot. Mutant he may be, but the LeBeau name itself seemed to be enough to get people scrambling to accommodate you.

The room was sumptuous, but tasteful; he moved about it like he knew the place already, which piqued her curiosity. There was some champagne already waiting for them – the real stuff for him, the non-alcoholic variety for her – and he poured them a glass each, clearly happy, it seemed, for it to be finally just the two of them.

Together they stood out on the balcony, sipping their drinks, and watched the twinkling city, its inhabitants passing by them below. For a while they were caught in their own little bubble of time, safe from the violent world that had been their own for so long.

"Ah guess life really does go on for some," she mused aloud as she heard the laughter and the raised voices from below. "Even though for the rest of us it probably means a cold night out on the streets or in a shelter." She lifted her head, her gaze catching the one or two Sentinels still looming on the horizon, seemingly frozen in time. The sight seemed so out of place here, and yet it was so familiar to her that she was reminded just how much of her life had been defined by the fight against an unstoppable enemy. Living itself had been like a military strategy, and nothing to do with living at all.

"Yah know somethin'?" she spoke up softly. "Ah don't think Ah'm ready t'be a mom, Remy. Ah know Ah'm ready to try but… Sometimes Ah wonder if Ah'm brave enough to guide a kid through this world. It's been hard enough for me, and Ah can take all sorts of pain if it's thrown at me, but… seein' the pain my son or daughter might haveta go through… Ah don't know if Ah'm brave enough t'take it."

It was a painful though necessary admission, she thought, and when it was done she hung her head as if ashamed.

"Yeah," he agreed after a moment. "I dunno if I'm brave enough either."

She knew it. It was still a comfort to hear it from him though.

"You think we'll be okay?" she asked him, and he smiled, nodded.

"Yeah. I think we will. We've got each other's backs, right?"

He drained the rest of his drink, contemplated the empty glass.

"So what'd you used t'do for Christmas?" she asked him curiously. "Back in New York?"

He flashed her a sheepish smile.

"Usually drink myself into a stupor. Sad, huh? Wasn't much t'celebrate, chere, 'cept for Sinny's latest paycheck and de fact dat I was still alive. You?"

She shrugged.

"Nothin' much. Go for a walk, see the lights. Watch others havin' fun."

He twisted the stem of the champagne glass between his fingers.

"Sounds lonely," he remarked, and she sniffed derisively at him.

"Not as lonely as gettin' wasted, sugah, Ah can guarantee you that."

He laughed softly in agreement, and so did she. Each was silently thinking how far they'd come and how much they had to thank for it.

"I thought about you a lot," he admitted softly. "You were prob'ly de only t'ing dat woulda improved my Christmases, if I'm honest."

"The only thing that could improve bein' passed out drunk on a couch?" She raised a sarcastic eyebrow at him. "Flatterin'."

He nudged her affectionately with his elbow.

"If I'd been allowed jes' one gift at Christmas," he murmured honestly, "I woulda asked for you. Every time."

It was enough to make her grin playfully, and she leaned towards him, angling for a kiss, saying: "Oh really? Well, yah know what, sugah – this year your wish came true. So let's make the most of it, huh?"

The kiss didn't come. Instead he whisked her up off her feet and into his arms, and she shrieked with delight as he carried her back into the room and threw her onto the bed. He crawled over her on all fours, his gaze holding hers, and she held it right back. Somehow she was still clutching onto her glass, and he prised it out of her hand slowly, set it on the nightstand, and looked down on her. For a few seconds they simply held the moment, drinking in one another's presence, this charged promise of something more.

"If tomorrow is as good as today," he murmured, "then it's shapin' up to be de best Christmas I ever had. I might even start celebratin' it again."

"Oh really?" She cocked him a sultry half-smile, reaching up to undo the top button of his shirt. "We ain't even got to the good part yet. Your Christmases must'a been really bad, sugah."

"Hey," he replied softly. "You were de one who said it, chere. Dis year I finally got a gift. And it's one I actually want."

"Hmm." She grinned and parted the open fabric of his shirt, running her hands up over his chest, his shoulders and round the back of his neck. "It ain't even Christmas yet. Ain'tcha supposed to wait 'til tomorrow mornin' to open up your present?"

"Dis is just a warm up," he decided, leaning in so that their faces were almost touching. "Don't worry – we'll have all tomorrow to open presents."

And their mouths finally met in a deep and long-awaited kiss.

They spent the night making love in-between blissfully untroubled bouts of sleep and the odd pocket of quiet conversation.

She wasn't sure what the hell happiness was, but she was sure this was reasonably close. She certainly felt happier than she'd ever felt, and even if that wasn't saying much, it meant a hell of a lot to her.

"You used to come here often?" she asked him at one point during the night, remembering the way he'd moved about the room with such familiarity. They were lying on the bed together, facing one another, the rumpled sheets at their waists, and he smiled, touched her chin with his thumb and forefinger, stroking her skin lightly.

"Used t'come here when I was a kid, t'get some alone time," he explained. "Bein' home was kinda crazy, as you can prob'ly guess. Here I could kinda stop and get a moment t'think, t'be myself. To not have any responsibilities to anyone but myself."

"Bein' a kid in the Guild was tough," she guessed, and he nodded.

"Yeah. Don't get me wrong, I had some amazin' times, but… It wasn't de 'normal life' you were goin' on about, not by a long stretch." He paused, thoughtful. "That's why I don't give a damn if our kid decides not t'be involved wit' de Guilds. Honestly, a part of me prefers it if dey wasn't. De t'ings de Guild does… it ain't what a kid should be involved wit'. Bein' away from it for so long, I see it now. I didn't den."

"You were born into it," she reminded him softly.

"Ha. Not exactly. I was born into de Black Womb. But if I had ta choose b'tween dat and de Guild… Well, you know what de answer would be."

She did. It didn't need to be said.

He sighed and dropped his hand to her collarbone, running his finger across it thoughtfully.

"We've come a long way," he murmured. "Haven't we, Anna."

She stroked the tips of her fingers up and down the nape of his neck tenderly.

"We sure have, sugah." Her eyes marked the line of his mouth pensively. "Even if we don't get any further than this … Ah'm thankful. Ah'm so thankful, Remy."

They kissed, their arms and their legs tangling together, soft and sinuous and closer than either of them had ever thought possible in all the wasted years spent seeking, and finally finding, one another.

-oOo-

Christmas morning dawned mild and bright, thin slats of sunshine streaking their way across their hotel room.

Rogue opened her eyes and stretched languidly; and almost immediately his arm was slipping round her waist, holding her tight.

"Merry Christmas, Anna," he murmured against her neck.

"Merry Christmas, Remy," she whispered back.

And for the first time since that day at the mansion they were spending Christmas together, perfectly content for their gift to be one another.

-oOo-