Chapter Two – (Mis)Connections
Summary: It took Rogue a long time to open her heart to the idea that love, family, and happiness could be an actual possibility for her. Now that she has it, she doesn't think she knows how to go back to living without it. Without knowing what the future holds, Rogue tries to hold her fears at bay.
Two weeks ago...
"Hey Sug, what's up?" Rogue balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder. Technically she wasn't suppose to be answering the phone yet, after all they were still technically on mission. But, they had achieved their goals and were in the process of packing up the Blackbird, so they were almost done. Besides, it was Remy. He was as much a member of the team as she was—it was just his turn to stay home with the kids.
"Bonjour, mon coeur," Remy enthused. She could hear the grin in his voice and knew she was grinning just as broadly. Even over a cellphone the rich, sexy timbre of his patois warmed her to the very core of her being. Eagerly, she counted down the hours until she would be in his arms again. After a week of being on mission with the team, she couldn't wait to be home again. She loved being an X-Men; she also loved being a wife and mother. It was tricky to balance it all, but she and Remy managed to make it work. "I'm 'bout t' go grocery shopping and thought I'd ask what you wanted for dinner."
"You." It was a testimony to their years together that she didn't stammer or blush at the suggestive comment. It probably helped that the rest of the team was busy with their duties and couldn't hear Remy's side of the conversation. Though from the look Wolverine was sending in her direction, he could probably hear the whole thing.
Remy chuckled causing her to melt inside. "Well, as temptin' as that might be mon coeur, I think that might need to wait for dessert."
Dammit, Logan was definitely picking up on the vibes of their conversation. Even if he couldn't hear the conversation, he could most certainly smell her desire. She was going to get in so much trouble for breaking protocol. While Gambit had no shame in opening flirting with her in front of Wolverine, for Rogue, it felt a bit more like flirting in front of an overprotective big brother. At least Logan had stopped threatening to gut Remy every other day.
"Um, yeah." She turned away from the group and wandered towards a pile of crates and began re-stacking them in the semblance of being hard at work.
"Logan listening in?" He was way too amused at her discomfort. She would get him for that later. Not like he'd mind.
"Why do you even ask when you already know the answer?"
"Hey Wolvie," Remy raised his voice to the point where she needed to pull the phone away from her ear. She didn't bother covering the phone, since that would defeat the purpose of her husband's taunts. "Give us some privacy, mon ami. It's your fault I haven't seen ma belle femme all week. Why don' you give Stormie a call. I'm sure she's missin' you."
Oblivious to the drama playing out between Rogue, Gambit, and Wolverine, the rest of the team missed the significance of Logan's less than amused grunt. He raised his hand and popped his middle claw. Rogue barely managed to hold in the chuckle behind a stoic mask.
"Say goodbye to lover boy, darlin'." Logan hefted several of the crates Rogue had moved. "Wheels up in five."
Rogue nodded her assent and returned her focus to the call. This wasn't the first time she'd answered Remy's calls and it was unlikely to be the last. "Ya hear that?"
"Oui, chère. I'll be quick."
"Ya better not be..." Rogue groaned. He had truly ruined her. "Did ya call just to flirt?"
"Would that be so bad?"
"Nah, but we probably put ought to wrap this up or Logan might leave me behind out of spite..." Unlikely, but occasionally Wolverine decided to do something drastic to prove a point.
"Dinner." Remy reminded. "I'm at the grocery store and wanted to know what I should get."
"Mm. How 'bout that étouffée you've been working on? Ah got a real cravin' for some down home cookin'." Rogue picked up the last crate and headed towards the plane. She dragged out her steps in hopes of prolonging the conversation a few more moments.
"Sounds good. Pecan pie?" There was a slight distraction to his voice. She recognized the shift in tone as he mentally reviewed his shopping list.
A slight moaned escaped from her lips as she imagined the sweet confection baked to perfection. Still, it was an awful lot of work. "Ya sure ya want to go through the trouble..."
"For you, mon coeur, it's worth the effort." He practically purred into the line.
"Well, then, sound like ya have a busy afternoon planned..." She glanced at her watch. 3:23. Her eyebrows shot up in alarm. "Wait, ya're just shopping now? What about the girls?"
"It's Jubilee's turn to pick up the kids. We've got tomorrow."
"Right." Rogue mentally tucked away that piece of information and re-set her mental calendar. It was easy to lose track of the schedule when she was away like this. Thank God for Jubilee. And, Remy. Between the three of them, they managed to stay sane balancing full-time parenting, part-time teaching, and itinerant heroing. She couldn't imagine trying to manage their schedules on her own. Thankfully, she never would.
"Rogue, get on the plane now, or you're walking home." Logan called from the doorway. Though he scowled at her, there was no bite in his expression. They were all tired and more than ready to be back home. Remy hadn't been kidding when he said Storm would be waiting to hear from Logan. They'd married earlier this year and were now expecting their first child. A small part of Rogue couldn't help but envy the relative easiness with which Storm had conceived.
"Ah got to go swamp rat. Ah'll see you soon. Promise we'll make up for lost time tonight." After the girl's have gone to bed, was left unspoken.
"Lookin' forward to it." There was enough suggestion lacing his tone that she couldn't help but sigh wistfully at the thought.
"Ah love ya Remy. See ya soon."
"Je t'aime, ma belle doucer. Always and forever." There was no good-bye as they hung up. It wasn't needed. They would see each other soon. Continue the conversation and carrying through on all the promises spoken or silent. After all, it was just another phone call on just another day. Nothing special. Routine. Even in the life of superheroes, some things were ordinary, even for them.
Or, at least, that was how it was suppose to be. Rogue didn't know as the ramp of the Blackbird closed behind her, that their lives were about to change. There would be no elaborate, home cooked dinner or late night lovemaking.
Rather, hours later the team would be greeted by Storm with an anxious message from Jubilee. Gambit hadn't come home. He wasn't answering his phone. And, when they had tried to locate him, they'd found his communicator abandoned by his car beside bags of spoiled groceries.
Present...
After his wild declaration, Remy passed out. For a moment no one could do anything other than stare aghast at the tableau playing out before them. Rogue wasn't the only one who had noticed that something wasn't right with Remy. It was more than the unsettling declaration that Belle was his wife or the obvious lack of recognition on his face when he looked at them. Gambit had pulled away from Rogue. That didn't compute in the world as she knew it. Remy always reached for Rogue.
While the rest of the X-Men stood around in a half circle, uncertain how to help, Hank continued his examinations. Storm held a hand to her lips. She hadn't been able to help much with the physical portion of the excavation, but there was no way in heaven or hell that she would not be part of the rescue of her friend. He had been there for her when she needed him, she would likewise be there for him. Logan wrapped an arm around his wife's waist and allowed her to curl up against him. Ominous clouds moved in on a rising wind and darkened the sky until it resembled a moonless midnight. Lightning flashed bright and bold with each shuddered gasp.
An assortment of cuts and contusions littered the visible portions of Gambit's skin. The protective layer of his duster was missing and ragged cuts tore into the material of his civilian clothes. A patch of thickening, dark red blood matted his hair. If this was the extent of his injuries after a building fell on him, Rogue knew he was lucky. But, that didn't make accepting the Gambit's cutting words any easier to bear.
"Remy?" Rogue's body trembled. She reached out towards her husband, but pulled back before making contact. Curling into herself, she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She hunched her shoulders and tucked her chin into the space between her knees, but her eyes never left her husband.
Stepping away from his wife, Logan approached the younger woman. He reached out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Darlin', let's—"
"Don't touch me," she whirled around to face him as she pulled even further into herself. There was a subtle stirring among the rest of the team, it had been a while since they had seen her like this. Without realizing that they were doing so, everyone but Beast, Wolverine, and Storm took a step away from Rogue as her powers surged and grazed along theirs—seeking, grasping for a purchase. Hank looked up over the rim of his glasses and away from his patient to check on Rogue. Her breathing escaped in ragged, rasping exhales. With each exhalation, her breathing grew more rapid. "Ah— Ah can't— can't control my powers."
Undeterred, Logan squatted down beside her, though he didn't try to comfort her with a touch. He patiently waited while she fought to control her breathing, if not her powers as well. When she was down to a light wheeze, he broke in before her fear and panic could start the cycle again. "Gumbo's tough. He's gonna pull through. Looks like he took a bit of a knock to the head." He touched his own temple, as though recalling the various times he'd experienced similar injuries. "When he wakes up, he'll have an impressive headache and be spouting all that French nonsense he loves. I pro—"
Rogue sniffed. She swiped at her nose with the back of her hand. She met Logan's blue eyes with a hard stare. "Don't you dare say it, sugah. Don't say it unless ya mean it."
Logan exhaled sharply. "You're right darlin'. I can't promise all will turn out the way you want it to. But, as I said. Your Cajun is a tough one. He's been through worse and come through on top. You just be there for him, and we'll all be here for the both of ya."
"He's right," Storm came up behind Logan. She ran her fingers through his hair. Out of respect for Rogue, Storm didn't invade Rogue's personal space. Truth was, Rogue needed Remy. He was the best at bringing her out of these attacks, helping her calm down until she could wrangle her emotions under control. "For now, the best thing we can do for Remy is to bring him back to the Mansion. Get him set up in the medlab so Hank can take a proper look at him."
Hank stood in slopping graceful movements. "I concur. His vitals are stable. And nothing appears broken—" he waved a hand, cutting Rogue off before she could protest, "—other than his memories. We'll know more once he wakes again and I can run some proper tests."
The mood of the team was somber as they progressed back to the Blackboard. What they hoped to be a celebratory experience—the lost lamb returned home—felt more like a funeral procession as they faced the unknown.
With a blanket draped over her shoulders, Rogue sat in the antechamber of the Mansion's infirmary. She couldn't recall exactly how she ended up here. Everything since boarding to the Blackbird was a bit of a blur. She had the vague recollection of going through the motions—walking, sitting, staring unseeing into the distance as the miles passed by. In her numb state, someone had obviously directed her here, wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and pressed a mug of tea into her hands. The tea was cold now, though she had the brief memory of heat seeping into her fingers and steam obscuring her vision as her brain replayed ad nauseam the memory of Remy shying away from her touch.
Placing the untasted mug of tepid tea onto the table, Rogue sank back into the couch. She absently fingered the heavy links of the inhibitor bracelet. The metal clinked softly as it shifted against her wrist. It was warm and vibrated softly with the inner-workings of the inhibitor. A dull ache throbbed at her temples. The longer she kept the inhibitor on, the worse the headache would grow, until the pain took on a piercing, white hot quality and encompassed her entire skull. Wedging her thumbnail into the gap where the ends met, she released the clasp on the bracelet. With the circle broken, the inhibitor no longer reined in her powers.
She breathed deeply in an attempt to regain some measure of control. Closing her eyes she started to clear her mind and focus on the rise and fall of her diaphragm. Breathe in…Breathe out…Breathe in…Breathe out….
For a moment, it worked. Her body relaxed and the outpouring of her powers receded. She felt contained—her powers limited to the confines of her own body, trapped within her skin. Her touch was still dangerous, but she could be in a room without worrying about accidentally absorbing anyone with the accidental overspill of her powers. Until she found out what was wrong with Remy, she couldn't calm herself enough to regain complete control of her rebellious powers.
Remy!
At the thought of her husband, Rogue's anxiety spiked. Her powers surged and spilled out in an attempt to absorb the others who were not there.
Upon arrival at the Mansion, Remy had been rushed into the depths of the medlab. Hank had a myriad of tests he wanted to run in hopes of discovering what had happened to Remy over the course of his absence. Rogue prayed that the memory loss was temporary. That Hank could undo whatever had been done to her husband.
It seemed so unreal. She couldn't reconcile the Remy she knew with the Remy they had found. The last time she'd spoken to Remy, they flirted over the phone about dinner and making love. They'd spoken like they were promised all the time in the world. And now, cruel fate, reminded her that tomorrow was never guaranteed. The rational part of her brain tried to convince her that she was over reacting. That this was simply a minor setback. Another injury he would inevitably heal from. In all honesty, it would probably play out like Logan said, Remy would eventually wake up spouting French and making plans to romance her. She couldn't know anything for certain until he woke up, so she might very well be overreacting for nothing. Yet, she couldn't deny the dark presentiment which had taken hold and she couldn't shake it. She knew that this was worse than your run-of-the-mill head injury. Worry churned in her gut and ate at the lining of her stomach. If his marriage to Belle was the last thing he remembered…
Twenty years….he's lost twenty years. She buried her head in her hands. It had been a decade from his exile from New Orleans to their wedding on the lawn of the Institute. Their tenth anniversary was coming up in the matter of months. Twenty years of memories, of life, of experiences…
She choked back a sob. Her heart. Her soul. Her husband. The father of their children. And he looked straight through her. He looked at her like a stranger. There had been no spark of recognition in his eyes. Only fear and repulsion at the thought that she might be his wife.
As heart-rending as that was, she feared it wasn't the worst of it. When they found him after two grueling weeks of searching, she'd looked down on her husband's familiar, well-loved face. Instead of the relief she hoped to feel at his discovery, she'd nearly drowned in a swell of despair. As she held his gaze, she only saw a distant stranger in his eyes. Behind the confusion and pain, they were the eyes of a man who hadn't been betrayed and abandoned at every turn until he found home and harbor in the arms of his wife.
A knock on the door interrupted her spiral. Reluctantly, Rogue re-clasped the bracelet and braced for the instant headache. She scrubbed at her face with the cuffs of her sleeves.
"Come in," her voice caught as she spoke for the first time in what felt like hours.
Logan pushed open the door and leaned against the doorframe. In his hand, he held her cellphone. "How ya holdin' up darlin'?"
Rogue shrugged. "Any news on Remy?"
"Hank's still got him squirreled away in the bowels of this place lookin' for answers." Logan crossed the small room in a few strides. He sat on the couch beside Rogue.
"Remy's gonna hate that. He hates feelin' like a lab rat. Ah should be with him when he wakes…" Rogue placed her hand on the arm of the couch as if to stand, but made no move to actually get up.
Logan wouldn't meet her gaze. He turned the phone over in his hands. The movement reminded her of Remy shuffling a deck of cards to distract from the silence when he didn't want to answer a question.
Her stomach grew queasy as bile worked its way up her esophagus. "What is it sugah?"
Though his expression remained grim, he didn't try to soften the blow of his words. She appreciated that. She hated being treated like she was delicate. "Not sure you bein' at his side when he wakes is gonna be all that helpful."
"Remy needs me," she said softly, more to herself than her friend.
He nodded. "True enough. And, in your situation, I'd want to stay at 'Ro's side too. But, Remy's not the only one who needs you right now." Logan handed her the pone. "Your girls need their ma."
Rogue touched her phone. The screen lit up with a recent snapshot of her, Remy and their girls—Isobel and Aimée—mugging for the camera. She stared at the picture as though by will alone, she could rewind time to this moment.
"Hope ya don't mind, 'Ro called Jean-Luc to let him know we found Remy. 'Sides, she reckoned if Remy's memory isn't back when he wakes, he might need to hear from his dad."
She nodded along. When Remy went missing, she'd contacted Jean-Luc, hoping the thieves' resources might help turn up her lost husband. She'd forgotten all about letting her father-in-law know his son had been found.
"I've talked to Jubilee and brought her up to speed. She's willing to stay and help with the kids as long as ya need her."
"Thanks, sug," Rogue offered him a weak smile. It was the best she could do under the circumstances. "Ah'll call the girls."
"I'll be nearby if ya need me. Gonna go find Hank and see if he's got any answers yet." Logan pushed himself off the couch and headed for door.
Taking a moment to regain her composure, Rogue ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath before dialing home.
"Mama!" Izzy and Aimée exclaimed in a chorus as they answered the video call. They leaned in close with their faces pressed cheek to cheek so they could appear on the screen at the same time.
For a moment, all Rogue could do was breathe in the presence of her daughters. Despite her excitement, Aimée yawned, alerting Rogue to the lateness of the hour. Aimée rubbed at her red on black eyes and rested her head on her older sister's shoulder. The white strands of hair stood out among the cinnamon locks and mixed with Izzy's gingery orange. Izzy's hair fell in a wild tumble of curls which partially obscured her hazel eyes. There was a new gap in her older daughter's smile—apparently she'd finally lost that tooth. Though Izzy bounced in excitement like her sister at the chance to finally be able to speak to their mama, Izzy's eyes held an edge of uncertainty which could easily spiral out of control.
"Hi petites. How are my spoonfuls of sugah?"
They giggled at the endearment the girls had insisted on after the umpteenth time of watching Mary Poppins.
"Auntie Jubilee says you found Papa. When are you comin' home?" Izzy asked instead of answering the question. Then again, that pretty much summed up how Rogue was feeling too.
She swallowed back the first answer which sprung to the tip of her tongue. Taking a deep breath, Rogue took the moment to formulate a reply which wouldn't distress her girls while still being honest. "Ah'll be home as soon as possible, but your Papa, well…. Do ya remember how we talk about mine and Papa's job?"
Both girls nodded. Rogue and Remy had often talked to the girls about the fact that while being an X-Man was an important job and helped a lot of people, it could also be dangerous. That even though they were careful, sometimes they might be hurt. The girls had accepted the fact readily enough, though up to this point, none of their injuries had required a prolonged stay in the infirmary.
"All right." Rogue licked her lips. "Papa hurt his head and he will probably have to stay here for a few days. Dr. McCoy is taking good care of him and Ah need to stay with Papa for a little bit longer. Okay?"
The girls were silent for a moment as they mulled over the new information. Izzy twined a curl around her finger, a sure sign that she could sense there was something more going on than she was being told. Rogue hoped she had better news before she had to explain the extent of the loss of memory to their girls. In the meantime, she didn't want to needlessly worry them if the amnesia turned out to be temporary blip.
"Why don' you kiss Papa all better?" Aimée blinked guileless eyes at her mama. Rogue couldn't see anything but angelic in the gaze many considered demonic. "My owies always feel better when you kiss them."
Rogue had to stifle back a half-laugh, half-sob. If only it were that easy. Then again, until she had complete control of her powers, her kiss would do more harm than help. "Sorry sweetie, it's not that kind of owie."
"Oh."
Aimée yawned. Izzy wrapped an arm around her sister petted her hair. A lump caught in Rogue's throat. Remy did the same thing as he tucked the girls into bed. Through Rogue's yawn was an attempt to cover the swell of emotions, it was enough to remind her body that the physical and emotion toll of day—of the last two weeks—had taken a toll on her body. "Tell me about your day, mes petites. Mama wants to know all about that missing tooth."
Rogue laid down on the couch and propped the phone up on the crook of her arm. She didn't know how long they talked, only that the three of them had fallen asleep mid-conversation.
