Though his eyes were open, he couldn't think of why; his heart was pounding, mind empty. It was as if adrenaline had been flowing into his veins. He concluded he must've been having another nightmare. Something about losing his wife, some villain ending her life, the usual plot of his deepest fears.

He remained immobile until his breathing rate began to steady. Not knowing what time it was, he somehow knew he surely could've slept for much longer than he did. The sun was out, that was a fact. The first rays of the early morning sun fell slanting through their bedroom window. He patted the bed gently, looking for her on her usual spot but found nothing but an empty space. He sighed, she was not usually the first one up and rolling in the morning. Before he could start worrying himself sick, anticipating what new danger was thrown their way, he noticed a faint sound of upbeat music coming from outside their room.

Putting his thieving skills to good use, he tiptoed around the apartment looking for her. Lucifer spotted him and walked towards him, purring loudly as he came to a stop right next to Remy's feet.

"Hey, Luci! Shhhh! You'll give me away!" He whispered. He now knew exactly where to find her. Her voice could be heard, she was humming to the song she was listening to. Lucifer looked startled when she started singing it as well. Remy chuckled at the scene.

"Now look at that! Someone was definitely made very happy in bed last night, ain't that right, Luci?" He whispered to the cat who totally ignored him and made his way to the living room.

A memory of his father on his wedding day, not the second one, the first one, popped in his mind. While he helped out young Remy LeBeau with his tie, he spoke solemnly, patting down the lapels of his son's suit jacket.

"Son, the secret to a long and happy marriage is…" He remembered taking in a deep breath and bracing himself to hear his father's words of wisdom. "…making your wife come before you do. A wife well cared for in bed is a happy wife. And a happy wife gives you no trouble. "

He chuckled at that memory. He didn't put that advice to good use with his first wife, and even though he now knew that a happy marriage involved much more effort than that… Oh, boy! Didn't it work like a charm with Rogue?

She was in the kitchen and he could sense the warmth her happiness brought about. The door to the kitchen was slightly open, and that was more than enough for him to be able to spy on her for a second without her noticing.

When he finally got a glimpse of her, she was holding a big bowl to her chest. Dancing and singing, she kept stirring whatever was inside the bowl.

"Morning, ma colombe." He flashed her a lopsided smile while leaning against the door frame.

"Wow! Remy! You startled me!" She complained.

"Desolée, chére. That was never my intention."

"Yeah, right. You walk like one of the cats, feet light as a feather, and you don't wanna get me spooked?"

"Maybe just a little." He admitted; a smile escaped his lips. "So, will you tell me what you're cooking or will I have to ask you?'

"Well… you're already asking me, silly. I'm making pancakes. I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed, but as it turns out, you've just ruined it." She stuck her tongue out to tease him. He swiftly snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her into a kiss. She giggled lightly.

When their lips parted, Remy looked down into the bowl and tut-tutted.

"Chére, this ain't right. Pancake batter shouldn't be this runny, this liquid. There should be more thickness to it."

"Is that so, Ratatouille?" she sneered. "You should be encouraging my cooking, not disdaining it!" And there came the pouting.

"I'm just trying to help you, chére." He spoke as softly as he could manage while counting the calendar days, doing the math in his head. Was it close to PMS days? He had to tread carefully if it was. "Don't take this the wrong way, mon amour. Let me put it this way. Imagine you see a student, who never ever tried to even fight, throw a punch at combat class."

"Okay." She conceded.

"But his jab is non-existent, his feet are badly positioned and he doesn't have much balance at all. Wouldn't you correct him? Teach him how it's done?"

"Hey! I know what you're doing there! Is my cooking that bad?" She asked him. Her tone of voice charged with indignation. His mouth twitched like he wanted to smile.

"Well, you did burn that lasagna last week… Ouch!" She threw the wooden spoon she had been holding at him.

"I'm sorry if I'm not practically a chef like you. I must lack the skills needed for this most divine task."

"I learned it just by being stubborn and mischievous."

"Oh, is that so?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Have I never told you the story?"

"You said Tantie Mattie taught you, or you read her recipe books. Something like that"

"Well, no, not exactly. There was also thievery and rule-breaking involved." At his words, she grabbed herself a seat, eyed him looking very much like the Willy Wonka's please-tell-me-more meme.

"Tell me all about it!" She demanded.

"So, it was Henry's birthday and I saw Tante Mattie making beignets and then filled up one of my mom's beautiful crystal plates with her most delicious treats. She even warned me: 'These are for your brother, Remy!' She knew me alright, knew that I would find my way to get one. And so, I managed to find where she hid it from me, high up on one of the kitchen cupboards. It was so easy finding it; it insulted my intelligence. Then, I thought it was a great idea to place one chair on top of another one so I could reach them and when my fingers found the plate..."

"You fell ass flat on the floor!" She burst out laughing.

"Exactly! Also broke the crystal plate and ruined all the beignets. Tante didn't smack my ass or anything, I was her favorite one." He smirked at that. "But she told me I wasn't eating any of her beignets for a full month as punishment. So, the next day I set out to make my own. I stole her cooking book after dinner, set my digital watch alarm to 2 in the morning, went to the kitchen, and tried my luck."

"How old were you, you rascal?" She asked him raising an eyebrow.

"9, I guess."

"Heavens to Betsy!"

"So, at 2 a.m. I set to work. The first batch was shit, it went straight into the bin. The second one was okayish, but the third one was perfect. I'll go out and say it was even better than Tante's. When it was early morning and the first sunrays invaded the kitchen, she showed up. She found me contently eating my third beignet from the third batch. She didn't ask anything, nor did she reprimand me. She simply pulled a chair and sat by my side, helping herself to one. With those beautiful eyes of hers that seem to be made of pure tenderness, she looked at me. At that very moment, I could feel, I could physically feel that sweet mother's love emanating from her and she simply said 'Those are really good, boy.' After that, she would always call me to help her out in the kitchen, and the more I practiced, the better I got and the more I enjoyed it."

"Awwww, that is one lovely story, sugar." She went to sit on his lap facing him and kissed him sweetly. While listening to her husband tell her that childhood memory of his, Rogue couldn't help picturing little Remy cooking alone in the middle of the night, trying his best as he usually does whenever he puts his mind to something. That made her imagine how it would be having her own mini Remy running around the house, being charming and mischievous at the same time. She sighed at that. No, that ship had sailed, and they'd made their peace about it. But that didn't mean she couldn't wonder how it would be. Shaking that thought off her mind, she asked him if he could help her finish off the pancakes. Remy added more flour to the mixture, a little bit at a time, whisking gently between each addition until he was satisfied with the consistency.

While she poured the now perfected batter on the frying pan, he encircled her waist with his arms, planting little kisses on her neck.

"Are you trying to teach me or helping me ruin it all, husband?" She asked as she filled a plate with yet another pancake. He knew perfectly well that kisses planted on the special spot on her neck made her all ticklish. She let the frying pan fall on the floor as she was giggling uncontrollably. Remy laughed at her lack of control; she was cursing under her breath when her phone rang. His hands fell to his sides, tension thick in the air. They were immediately both very serious and exchanged knowing looks. Called id showed only a private number. They all knew the drill and what a private number usually meant.

In two years of marriage, they could count on their hands the number of weekends they spent at home simply being a regular married couple, doing couple things, or simply doing nothing at all. There was always some threat or danger, some shitstorm raining down on them.

Her eyes found his and they seemed to be asking 'Should I answer it?' With a sigh, she tapped the screen.

"Morning, Anna. Is your husband around? I was trying to reach him, but he's not answering the phone. Tell him I just watched episode seven and I need to make him some questions."

"Bobby! I cannot believe you right now!" She passed the phone to Remy without saying a word, rolling her eyes as she did so.

"Episode six?" She heard him say. "Wait a minute. I'll get my I-pad, I made some notes." She watched incredulously as he managed to fetch his I-pad in a nanosecond and promptly opened a file that looked like a genealogical tree. He sat back down, unceremoniously slid his hand over her hip while holding the tablet with the other one, balancing the phone between his cheek and shoulder. He gently gestured for her to sit on his lap. She took her plate and jam and started eating. While talking enthusiastically with Bob on the phone, he traced little circles on her hip with his fingers.

She watched him talking to their friend about their nerdy things, and couldn't help but feel content. Three years ago, she wouldn't imagine this could ever be possible. Saturday morning, sitting on her husband's lap. Husband! Idly letting time pass her by, just enjoying his company. It was such a shame that these moments were much rarer than they'd like them to be. There was always some chaotic situation lurking around the corner that needed their prompt attention. Their marriage ended up being left on the background many times as they went from one trap to the other.

Noticing her silence, he pulled her a bit closer. How she enjoyed moments she spent that close to him. And that's how they spent their day. Close to each other, cuddling, drinking beer while binge-watching the series Remy was talking to Bob about, the day passed them by smoothly. After God knows how many episodes, they moved from the couch to the bed, where they finally put a bit more effort into actually being with each other. All it took was the void of silence when the TV was finally off, she looked into his eyes adoringly and his soul was set ablaze. Her sweet smile was a jewel of incomparable beauty and it made the thief in him want to own it. In seconds, they let their body do the talking, resorting to soft caresses, touching and kissing to express what many of the times words just wouldn't do. Their sex was an expression of love, of the bond, an intimacy that stretches gracefully into their thoughts, dreams, and wishes.

It was around midnight, and the couple had just drifted into sleep after their lovemaking when her work phone started vibrating. She just couldn't believe it! Uncharacteristically, Remy didn't even flinch and remained asleep.

'Sure made this man work it tonight!' She thought to herself, as she took the phone from her bedside table and left their room as quietly as she possibly could manage. If Remy was awake, they were sure to exchange the customary anxious looks at one of their work phones buzzing away. Frowning, she realized it was an unknown number.

She took a deep breath and put the phone to her ear, hoping for the best, preparing for the worst. Before she could say anything, she hears a familiar voice whispering her name from the other side.

"Erik?" She whispers back into the phone and slowly breathes out a sigh.

"We have to talk." The master of magnetism spoke assertively. It gave her chills.

"How in the world would you have this number? Or any of my numbers for that matter?"

"I hear congratulations are in order, Mrs. LeBeau."

"It's been two years already." She spoke harshly, feeling her temple throbbing with sudden pain. "Who gave you my number?" She insisted. Irritation irradiating from her voice.

"You should choose the people you trust more carefully, Rogue. What a throwback to the naïve little Rogue I once knew. Who would share any information they don't want to be divulged to a mercenary, huh?"

"Deadpool!' She thought. 'That prick!'

"What do you want from me?"

"We do need to talk."

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