So! Guys, it's been a great ride. i cannot say how much i wanna thank you all for all the support and reviews and PMs that you guys sent me to help this story along! i owe you guys BIG TIME! =D here's the last chapter of the fanfic, written with all dedication and heartfelt effort. i hope the ending is to your liking... personally i love it. you never know, there may be a sequel after all! im considering posting a oneshot with the idea of babies and elopement and problems with the neighbours. BUT no real promises there, loves =( college is starting and my course ends at 730pm earliest. by the time i get my exhausted brain home, it will probably want to jump out of my skull and die.

I don't wanna end this tale with a moron tagging behind my ass nagging me about character details, so this little note is aimed straight for a certain reviewer's head. Namely, ANNONYMOUS:
dude, or gal, or thing, whatever the hell you are, im following X-Men Evolution with all gravity of Jupiter. Not Earth, Jupiter. That giant fattest planet in our solar system. i hope you know what im talking about, being the moron that you are. in xmen evo, Rogue has GREY EYES & MAROON HAIR & she is gothic. IN THE COMICS IT IS GREEN & BROWN and she is sassy. In evo, Gambit is a PAID ACOLYTE TO MAGNETO, aka look it up in wiki, he's a MERCENARY. savvy? btw, the fact that you reviewed with the name ANNONYMOUS says something about your level of courage. misplaced your balls lately? PITY.

for everyone else that i love and am eternally grateful to, THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! XD im drafting a potential sequel as you read this chappie so LOOK OUT FOR IT! X) and then there's another long story where anna & remy are betrothed by their foster parents because destiny had a vision. yea its AU. what do you get? chaos, a honeymoon, running away, scheming, Thieves, Romy and lots and lots and lots of lemon (which is the definition of Romy in any case ;D).

Love all you guys. and my best pal, for reading and re-reading and giving me all the encouragement i needed! she doesn't write romy, but Alice Acedemy fans, try out her fanfic account Don Melon Lord =) and my other pals who don't do fanfic, but listened to me yabber about it!

Living the X-Men Life 35

Eight months later...

Scott Summers was sitting in the lounge, surrounded by male peers, each of them having given up on plugging their ears. On the coffee table lay an X-Communicator. The females of the Institute were either with Jean or not indoors. The younger students, both male and female, decided that it was best for their hearing abilities to leave the Institute grounds for the day and spend their time not thinking about babies.

"SCOTT SUMMERS!" Jean's screams exploded from the X-Communicator. Blissful silence followed. Then, "YOU ARE NEVER. EVER. COMING NEAR ME. EVER. AGAIN!"

"Jean, I'm sorry!"

"DON'T!" She refused to have any of it. "DON'T say you're sorry! Just shut up! Kitty! Switch that thing so that I don't have to hear his goddamn voice!"

The man in question groaned into his hands.

Remy LeBeau would have taken his Anna and both of them hopped on his bike to some distant beach to do more pleasant things than listen to a labouring woman screeching at her lover. Pleasant things involved the act of making babies itself but with the protection of their good friend Durex. But Anna wanted to stay. Alright. Fine by him. If she wants to be there for Jean Grey, he had no bones about it. The only thing that ate him (not in the sexual tense) was that she demanded that he stay too.

"Stay and do what?" he had asked, not caring to hide his horror.

Anna put her hands on her hips and gave him the scowl she reserved for talking to idiots. She replied impatiently, "Ah donno! But you're not goin' nowhere without meh'!"

Scott chose that fateful moment to groan, "She hates me now. I shouldn't have –"

"Fucked her?" guessed Logan, arms sprawled on the three-seat couch head.

Scott raised his head. "No. I mean, yes! Arghhh! NO! I... We argued. Before this happened. Now she doesn't even want to see me." He mashed his face in his hands.

Anna suggested, "You could keep him company."

"Him?" Remy threw a hand in Scott's direction. "So it's his baby. And Ah gotta suffer."

Jean screamed. Everyone in the room made noises of protest against the unearthly sound.

Anna sighed and squeezed the bridge of her nose. Remy long since understood that gesture as her affirmation to think rationally. He sighed himself. Taking her by the shoulders, he pulled her into an embrace.

She responded by running her hands over his biceps. "You know Kitty made meh' promise her Ah'll be there." She implored him in a whisper, "Please. Don't go anywhere."

"Eh," He toyed with a white lock of hair that fell over her face. "At least you ain't askin' me t'sit in on the labour." He knew he was going to regret it on a personal note, but whatever made her happy, made his day in the end. "Alright. Ah'm sold. Ah'll do somethin' 'bout the father in the sunglasses."

It was awkward and unrewarding. So he had been in the mansion for almost nine months and an X-Man for eight of those months, but Summers and him were not on best-buddy terms. If anything, they were on quit-making-so-much-noise-next-door provisos.

The Institute did not have penned rules about entering the room belonging to a person of the opposite sex. Sometimes the kids stay up late playing Risk or Monopoly in Bobby's or Tabitha's room. Kitty and Kurt have been known to just hang out privately in one of their rooms. And everyone knows that Anna and Remy have been up to one thing late at night in his or her room via noise complaints. More often, most of the complaints were about his room. The Professor himself was one of the complainers.

One day after several sleep-interrupted nights, Xavier took his recruits to the side. McCoy was in the same office doing paperwork and no doubt listening out on the conversation.

"Anna, Remy, I understand the game of courtship as well as the next man. And the next man has to have his needs satisfied. That I understand just perfectly. However, when it goes at the expense of an unwilling audience, I have to speak for the rest."

Remy scratched his goatee and stole a glance at Anna, who didn't even deem to blush. Her chin was jutted out self-righteously as she eyeballed the Professor.

"I can't stop you." the handicap with eye bags continued. "Despite the duty that I should. The younger students may pick up your example. But to ban you two will just add fuel to the flame."

Remy grinned at that.

"I have to plead then, for you both to tone down your nightly activities."

Remy was tempted to ask how, but swept the cheeky urge under the fine red carpet he stood on. "Alright, Prof." he answered instead. "We'll try t'keep it quiet."

"Perhaps," added McCoy. "I suppose it would be too much to ask you both to frequent in each other's rooms a little less frequent?"

There are plenty of other suitable places, thought Remy, slipping his hand around Anna's shoulder. Her hand slid around his waist, as if she read his thoughts and completely agreed with him.

Apparently McCoy read minds too. "Maybe cease these activities altogether?"

The question went unanswered by day, but when neither of the two came for dinner that evening, everyone knew their answer.

"Thanks, Remy." She tiptoed and kissed him on the lips. Public affection wasn't exactly her thing, most times she threw him off when he tried to fondle her on the family couch, but she just did it because she could.

Immediately a gruff snort responded from the couch.

She pulled away and whispered into his ear. Her hot breath never stopped warming up his blood. "Ma amour (my love)."

He pinched her round backside as she sashayed away, earning a coy smile from over her shoulder.

Logan was giving him unfriendly looks. Remy waited for the door to close behind Anna before he spread his arms defensively.

"What?" he drawled.

"Do what you gotta do outta mah' sight." Logan grumbled.

"Out o'your sight," Remy recited monotonously. "Out o'your earshot. Where are we supposed t'get it done in this house?"

"You don't." he scowled.

"Hey, she ain't pregnant."

At this, Logan leaned forward forebodingly. "She'd bett'r not, Cajun."

Remy looked at Scott then back at Logan, smelling prejudice in the air. "Pick on the Cajun. Ah get it."

"!" Jean reminded the men that she was in pain of such deep proportions male specimens cannot comprehend.

Logan added, "If that's Anna, you'll be doin' some screamin' ye'rself."

Evan cut Remy off from a rebuttal. "Dudes, seriously, shuddup. There's a Scott in pain over here."

Remy sat himself in the only available space, with Logan. When the stouter man had heard Remy clearly say that he had kissed Anna, he didn't fly into the rage Remy was expecting. The Canadian stood rooted to the tiled kitchen floor. His eyes widened. The way his lips pressed together into two thin white lines though, told Remy he had better play things more tactfully.

Logan turned to the girl. "Rogue." he said in his gruff, paternal tone.

She wrestled out from Kitty and Kurt's combined death hold right into Logan's arms. Remy arched his eyebrow in much, much surprise.

She shared his surprise. "You're not gonna kill him?"

"Kill him?" Logan snorted. "Too easy. What Ah have in mind takes more time." His mouth twisted into an expression made of half a bully's smirk and a father's smile. "You did good kid. Hell Rogue, you've done meh' damn proud."

"Thanks Logan." she said, her pearl grey eyes shining. "And, uh, everyone... Mah' real name's Anna."

A crescendo of screams yanked Remy out of his personal memories.

"Somebody put his mouth to some use." suggested Evan.

"Hmmm." Remy mused. "You and Jean decided on a name yet?" he asked Scott.

"Can we not talk about the baby, for God's sake?" When another resounding screech erupted from the communicator, Scott dropped his head into his hands. "Oh God, I can't take this."

Piotr decided to give comfort a try. "My family back in Russia. I have a sister. She married and gave birth to a baby girl just before... I left. She sounded the same as Jean when she was in labour. Worse, because her baby came early. She cried for nine hours before Anastasia was born."

Scott moaned aloud.

Remy rolled his head at Piotr and gave him the you're-not-helping look. Piotr zipped it. With a sigh, Remy moved over and sat on the armrest of the sofa chair Scott occupied.

"What Piotr is tryin' t'say is," he said smoothly. "Everythin' is gonna turn out okay."

"Only when it doesn't." murmured Evan.

Remy shook his head slightly at Dino. Let's not go there.

"What?" Evan huffed. "Gotta prepare a man for the worst."

"He's right, Cajun." Logan joined in. "Sometimes the woman don't make it."

"True, but..." Remy hinted for one of the two negative people to pull the mood back up.

Logan caught it. "But this isn't some random woman we're talkin' about. This's Jean Grey. Hey, Scott, look up. We all know Jean Grey. The whole mansion's full of girls walkin' the hallways every day. But there isn't a woman like your woman."

Scott didn't seem the least bit convinced so Remy felt urged to elaborate. "There's Kitty. Now she's got the spirit and the drive when nobody has. There's Tabitha, darin' t'try anythin' nobody wants t'try. Laura can't be put down on anythin' – she gets what she wants and everybody bett'r get outta her way. Ororo has the heart t'hold on for people, even if they fight her. Anna is the most headstrong gal any man could ev'r meet."

Remy relished in the scowl that sprouted on Logan's face. "But when it comes to strength o'will, Jean beats 'em all. She's the pillar 'round here. Keepin' the lid on the kids. She'd make a great mother and right now, Summers, she's determined t'give you a great kid. You know why?"

"Why?" Scott actually straightened up in some attention.

Score one for Remy Lebeau and his lying tongue. Like real there's any woman better than his Anna.

Remy smiled. "Because she loves you."

"SCOTT!" Jean's pained cry scratched through the communicator. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Remy and Scott looked at one another.

Her cry grew into a primal growl. "I. HATE. YOU!"

"See?" Remy said at length. "Sounds like love t'me."

"If that's love," Evan chuckled darkly, "I wonder what Anna says to you to get you high."

Remy pointed a warning index finger at Daniels. When Scott made no response, he decided they all have some conversation stimulant.

"Logan," He cocked his head to get his attention. "Got beer in the fridge?"

"Bett'r." Logan replied, getting up toward the open doorframe. "There's whiskey."

Remy turned back to Evan and Piotr for a suggestion. Both had none. He took a refreshing breath of jumbled ideas. "A new bar opened up." He decided on brainless small talk. "Nearer the South end. Called the Liquor Ballroom. Anna and Ah went t'check it out last week. Good food and drinks, real cosy place. What's special is they got a nice, stylish dance floor for proper waltzin'. Not like those nightclubs and stri – other clubs. They play classical, tango, jazz... When we went, there was a live jazz band from Louisiana. Their fois gras was amazing, pricey, but hell, Anna said she never tasted anythin' like it –"

"Remy." Scott interrupted and looked up at him. His sunglasses made it impossible for Remy to read his expression.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Remy raised his eyebrows in suppressed pique. He put his hands up in surrender and got off the arm rest. Scott ran all his fingers through his hair, resuming his posture of defeat. As Remy got comfortable where he sat before, Logan entered with a handful of glasses and a Crown Royal bottle. The amber liquid soon filled the five glasses and was downed just as quickly into five gullets. Refill was in order soon enough.

A particularly bloodcurdling scream clawed through the air.

"We're going to cut this communication for obvious reasons," the Professor's voice spoke unusually calm through the communicator. "I'm sorry, Scott."

The device went beep! and that was it.

"Remy."

"Yeah?"

"Keep talking."

So he did. For hours. He talked about clubs and pubs and the differences between the two, between cheap bars and classy bars and that he only brought Anna to the classy ones. He droned on about food, where to get the good ones in town or on the outskirts of Bayville. He talked about which bistros accept mutants and those that don't, last night's dinner, what Cajun dinner is like. Whiskey dwindled in its decanter, legs propped on the coffee table and arms stretched across sofas, bodies sank into the cushions. Through it all, Remy drawled about any mundane topic that came to his extensive imagination, anything everyday and worth little concern, to remind everyone that beyond Jean's labour, everything mundane will continue on everyday.

The setting sun painted the lounge warm shades of gold and orange through the open windows, the glaring yellow yolk burning into their eyes. Remy was embarking on a descriptive description on how to make world-class Cajun seafood pasta. By this point, his suave voice had gone hoarse and he was boring even himself. But until Scott told him to take a rest, he was going to keep the men occupied.

"So," Remy yawned. "It's goddamn hot stuff, but très délicieux (very delicious). First you cook the pasta, in salted water. That's the trick. Boil some cream, keep stirring. Lower the heat a little, then throw in all your herbs and salt and peppers, onions, parsley... Leave it. Then throw in your –"

Ororo saved them all, thank God, when she flung open the lounge doors.

Scott jumped to his feet with renewed energy, the other four men followed suit in lumbering motions.

Ororo shook her head. "No baby yet."

Five chests deflated in unison.

Scott resumed depression. "She's gonna die."

"Jean is not going to die." said Ororo firmly. In Remy's eyes, a flicker of pure exasperation passed her placid complexion. "First births take awhile, Scott. I just came down to tell you personally that Jean is doing very well. Just a few hours more."

Remy couldn't contain his restlessness much more and threw up his hands. "Mon Dieu."

"Can I see her?" pleaded Scott.

"No."

That defiant response, coming from a respected woman of the house, made Scott stand to his full height. "I'm going to see her, Ororo. I don't care what you say, I'm gonna see her!"

"No, you're not." The sunset turned shadowy as the sky outside took a dark turn, as did her expression. She looked tired, worn out, weathered. Remy felt pity stir within him for the woman playing midwife to her own student. No doubt she had been right next to Jean while the girl screamed and cried in pain. Now the boy was demanding more and more of her, or so it might seem to her. The sky had good reasons to darken.

Remy had to salute them for trying.

"You can't keep him from her." Logan objected.

"Aunty O," Evan joined the argument in Scott's favour. "Just give him a few minutes."

"It's not about what I can give him, it's whether Jean wants to give him anything." She drew her words out in a carefully restraining manner. Her gaze settled on Scott. "Jean doesn't want to see you. And I have to put what she wants above what you want."

Scott kept his glare on the black Lady of the Weather, fists clenching and unclenching indecisively. He finally sat down, sullen and muttering. Ororo overheard a few words and she couldn't help but flush in offence.

When Logan echoed what he said, Ororo threw him a withering look.

"I came down to tell you Jean's doing fine." she continued quietly, turning. "I'm going back up."

"Ororo," Scott pleaded, apologetically this time. He took the effort to walk over and take her arm. "Please. I know Jean is angry with me. I shouldn't have said what I said to her but you gotta let me see her. Give me a chance to put things right."

Ororo nodded, "Not now, but after the baby is born, Scott."

"You shouldn't keep him from her, Ororo." Logan muttered.

"Don't you start telling me what I should be doing!" Storm raised her voice, the pitch dropping into a dangerous baritone. "Care to –"

Remy had no idea what she was about to say, but he figured it wasn't very lovely to hear. He stepped through everyone and gently touched Ororo's elbow. Summoning his most gratified look and poised tongue, he said, "Jean needs your help. And alot of it. We'll just wait here."

...

The hospital scene contained a sweating Jean, a pale Kitty, a teeth-clenching Anna and an anxious Professor Xavier.

"I'm going to kill him."

Anna looked up from wringing a wet cloth. Kitty was standing by the other side of the bed, fanning Jean industriously. The poor girl's arm was beginning to give way. On her part, Anna removed the old cloth and placed a fresh damp one on her friend's creased forehead. Her hands were ashen white with cold from soaking the cloths in iced water. The stupid blocks of ice floating about the bucket made bonking noises whenever she dipped her hands in. Needless to say, her irritability was on its edge.

What made it harder for her act of charity, was these efforts did little to cool the labouring woman's temper.

"Now Jean..." Professor soothed her forearm.

"I'm going to murder Scott for what he did to me." Jean growled. "Does he know how much this hurts?"

"He probably does." Ororo answered as she entered the room. "They're all downstairs fretting over you."

"Good!" Jean muttered venomously. "I hope the worrying kills him!" Turning to Kitty, she snapped, "I'm labouring here!"

Kitty whined and turned the fan back to Jean.

"Actually," Ororo pushed the covers over Jean's legs, after the Professor had wheeled away from her side of the view. "The labour is just about to start."

Anna dropped the cloth she was wringing and exchanged dismayed looks with Kitty, who whined.

"Start?" gasped Jean. "What d'you mean start?"

"Now you push." she explained. "On your next contraction, you push with everything you have. Anna, Kitty, help her sit up."

The bed's auto mechanism whirred to put Jean at a comfortable angle and the duo braced her by her shoulders. The room was silent with anticipation except for Jean's heavy breathing. In a while, she began groaning.

"Hold her up." Ororo instructed, holding Jean's legs apart. "Now push, Jean, push!"

Jean rocked back as she heaved. Her face contorted and she threw her head back in a wailing scream of pain right into Anna's ear. The woman who used condoms winced and forced Jean to sit back up. God, but this was becoming intolerable.

"No more screaming." Ororo said sternly, "Screaming wastes your energy. Anna, give her one of the cloths to bite on later."

When the contraction was over, Jean slumped onto the bed, panting. Anna wrung one of the ice cold cloths and held it out when she caught sight of Kitty staring straight at her. The smaller, frightened girl mouth the words, I want to leave.

Anna furrowed her eyebrows and quickly lipped, You can't.

Kitty squeaked, "I'm scared."

"I heard that!" snapped Jean, pushing away the cloth. "You're not going anywhere, you understand?"

"But – Oh my God!"

Jean latched her hand like an iron grip around Kitty's wrist as her next contraction took hold. Anna braced her up again as her friend pushed with an ear-deafening cry, followed by Kitty's shriek as Jean squeezed hard enough to crack a bone.

Ororo yelled over the din, "Anna, put that cloth in her mouth now!"

Gladly. Anna shoved the damp thing between Jean's lips and forced her jaw to clamp over it, muffling the scream and giving Jean something else to vent her pain on. When the contraction was over, Kitty whined over her reddened wrist.

"Hey, you dragged me into this!" barked Anna.

She shouldn't have let Kitty talk her into staying here. Remy was right; a day at a deserted beach, with a basket of sandwiches and cold lemonade laced with Cointreau, and a very large beach towel or hammock, was a better option than being here. Instead of a stuffy emergency room, she could be under the shade of a tree with the wide ocean ahead of her. Her hands wouldn't be freezing but warm against his body. Her ears would be abused by his suggestive whispers, not hideous screeching.

Just thinking about him made her wish he was in here. She barely noticed that her head tended to lift toward that glass door, hope rising every time in case his face might be pressed there. She was disappointed each time. Jean didn't want the company of anyone male except the Professor, and even he had to argue that right with her.

Jean was going into another contraction.

Watching her cry out in raw pain was something Anna couldn't relish in, as much as she always wanted to see Jean go crazy with some sort of hurt, pampered rich background as she had. But this was too intense, torturous to a degree. Anna began to wonder if she would ever wind up in a position like that. Pregnant. A Remy junior in her oven. Labouring. She bet whatever Jean could scream and curse at Scott, she would perform far worse on Remy.

What would it be like? She thought. Having another living being inside you? Would it feel like a duty or a desire to deliver the baby at the end of nine months of carrying it around? What kind of food cravings would she have? Would he want a boy or a girl. She would like a girl. A beautiful one with his normal hair and her normal eyes and normal skin. She would make sure never to buy those ridiculous frilly dresses for babies. She'll wear mittens and socks and a beanie and a shirt that says "Don't give Mommy any dumb advice, She's doing fine!" Anna remembered seeing that design in a flea market stall when they went together. She also remembered that they actually spent awhile browsing through the baby products until the twinkle-eyed woman at the stall asked them if they had been married long. They gave a polite smile that had the old lady nodding away.

Remy then grinned and held up a shirt for her reading. She smacked him for it. It said "All my Daddy wanted was a Blowjob" And yes, she had learned how to do that right by now.

It struck her at that moment, she wondered if it struck him too, that a child was an element of her life. She wasn't worried about fertility rates or cost but a family was a nice thought. A delightful thought. But he didn't seem to have any response to the mindless browsing and she put that idea aside. Maybe some other day.

But she couldn't stop thinking about it. Until now, she wished he was right here with her.

...

"What did you say t'her anyway, Scott?" Remy asked.

"We argued." he replied. "She didn't want my help. But I insisted. Then she called me something, I called her something and she got mad. She stormed off to the kitchen and the next thing I know, Ororo is saying she is going into labour, a month too soon!"

"Pull yourself t'gether, man!" Evan frowned. "She'll be fine! How many damn times d'you need us to say that?"

"What happened?" Remy asked again. The idiot still isn't telling the story. "What was she up to?"

Scott sighed. "You know, the Professor gave us a room to be the baby's nursery? Jean and I put it together three months ago but she kept shifting things and rearranging things everyday. I thought it was okay, she was just excited. This morning I found her standing on a high stool reaching for those Styrofoam deco alphabets pasted on the wall. Of course, I barged in and carried her down!"

"She didn't fall, right?" Logan asked.

"My God, no!" said Scott. "No, no! But she could have! But she kept insisting she had everything under control and I was being a pessimistic asshole for giving her a scare. She's the one standing on a high stool with our unborn baby, all round and all that, and I gave her a scare?"

"'Cause I think she's takin' too long up there." Logan pointed out. It was midnight by then and this whole episode started at lunchtime. The kids had returned home and Logan had sent them scuttling to bed.

Scott froze and started to get up when the Professor wheeled through the door. He wasn't smiling and he wasn't in the least bit in a serene mood. Remy could only imagine what it was like to be sitting next to your suffering prize student. He had stayed long enough to know that Jean was the closest thing to a daughter toward the Professor. Yeah, he could only imagine.

"Jean wants to see you now, Scott. Everyone else can come along too."

Scott moaned into his hands all over again. Remy couldn't suppress rolling his eyes at the hopeless father-to-be.

When he looked up, he wasn't much more optimistic. "She's gonna die, isn't she? She wouldn't call for me unless she's gonna die."

"She's not dying, Scott." the Professor assured.

"What did she say?" Scott demanded. "I wanna know exactly what she said!"

"Very well." the Professor said. "Jean said, "Tell my pessimistic asshole of a boyfriend that his baby needs a name.""

Scott remained a pessimistic asshole despite the male chorus of congratulations that ensued. "She still hates me. She won't forgive me."

"I'm not done yet." The Professor continued, ""Tell my pessimistic asshole of a boyfriend that his baby needs a name and his girlfriend needs a kiss."

Remy's "Ah told you so." never made it out of his mouth before Scott was dashing out of the lounge.

...

Remy thought the baby could challenge him on the handsome level. This little wrinkled E.T. wrapped in a cocoon of white linen had the best of two other worlds that couldn't be Jean or Scott. The thing was as red-faced as a drunkard with bright red lips and his burger bun head jerked in protest against his bounds. His eyes were two tight lines drawn into the creases of his face. His chin folded over his soft neck, vulnerability written all around.

Everyone s crammed into the small emergency room as Jean took her voiceless daughter from the over-thrilled Kitty. With a true mother's caress, she hushed the baby into a peaceful composure. Anna held her hands before her, enjoying Remy's reassuring hand on her back and the heart-warming sight of a real, biological family. She was content.

"Would you like to hold her, Anna?" Jean offered with a grateful smile.

"Uh," Anna suddenly felt unease start a spinning carousal in her gut. "Ah don't –"

"Sure you do." beamed the mother. "Here, it's easy."

Remy watched Anna hesitantly scoop the baby into her pale, bare arms. What began as an inelegant attempt to not drop the infant, Anna's arms seemed to shape into a cradle, form-fitted for the little papoose. She jutted out her hip to support the baby's weight, her neck bending over the small, round face. She swayed as gracefully as a pliant vine to keep the baby happy. The infant's helpless head was contentedly lodged in the crook of her arm. Her lush breasts were pressed against the tiny body, securing it with all comfort and maternal attention a child needed. All this in a moment of feminine instinct.

A strange compulsion gripped Remy. Before him stood a living portrait of divine domesticity, and in some deep corner of his being, he unexpectedly longed to be a part of it. He never felt an urge so sudden, so riveting, so powerful. He couldn't even name the sensation with all the words he had been spewing out hours ago. It wasn't desire, lust, attraction... not even love. It was rooted from love. And only three simple words grew from it:

I want that.

A child. A family. All the pleasant activities a man enjoyed in getting a child. Months of anticipating the arrival of said child –peering at a sonar scan for a girl or a boy. Whichever she wanted. Wondering whether its hair will be streaked maroon and white like its mother's, or hazel like his father's, or a shade in the spectrum in between? Will it have his demon eyes or those beautiful pearl greys from Anna? Baby jumpers, pacifiers, milk bottles, baby mittens and socks. And one blood-bound tie with the woman he loved. Perhaps a legal tie.

I want that.

And I'm going to have it.

The End? x)