Chapter 22

Rogue stood uncertainly in the doorway to the mansion's rec room.  The only light came from the television, which was playing some awful late-night, black and white monster movie.  The volume was high, and between the creature's growls and the hordes of running, screaming people, the two sprawled in front of the TV hadn't yet noticed her.  Rogue debated whether to go in or just get to her room from the outside.  She really didn't want to stop and talk; she was close enough to losing her nerve already.  But she also didn't want to do any more flying.  The night was so pitch black tonight she'd had some trouble navigating.  She'd actually missed the house on her way in and overshot by almost a hundred miles.  The lights of civilization weren't such a good guide when she couldn't see the landscape that went with them.  Still, it would only be a short hop up to her window.

"Well, the prodigal returns."  Hank grinned at her over the back of the couch.  "Welcome home, Rogue."

She summoned a smile.  "Hi, Hank."

Bobby hopped up off of the other couch then stood staring at her, hands in his pockets, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do.

"Hi, Bobby," she suggested when he remained silent.

He smiled sheepishly.  "Hi."

Rogue turned back to Hank.  "Is Remy here?"  She tried to sound casual, and knew she failed miserably.

"I believe so."  Hank had the grace not to smile.

"Thanks."  She headed toward the stairs, grateful for the mercifully short conversation.

"Rogue, I--" That was Bobby.  She turned to face him.

"What, sugar?"

He paused.  "I-- Nothing.  Just be careful, o.k.?"

"Careful?"  Rogue shook her head.  "Ah don't want ta be careful," she told him plainly.  "Ah want ta be happy."  And to his expression, she could only add, "Ah love him."

Bobby caught her arm.  "How?  After everything he's done to you?"

Rogue put her other hand on his shoulder and squeezed.  "Sometimes, sugar, ya just have ta believe."  With that, she left them and headed upstairs.  There was something she had to do.

#

Remy woke suddenly, unable to identify the thing that had alerted him.  The room was pitch black in the moonless night-- even his sensitive eyes could distinguish little.  Adrenaline slid through his veins, but he forced himself to remain still and breathe evenly.  It was a long-time habit he relied on to give his sleep-fuzzed mind time to react.  Unfortunately, he didn't have much time.  His mutant power felt the motion as hands reached toward him from behind his shoulder.  Still half-asleep, Remy rolled toward his attacker, using both hand and foot to throw the bed covers at him.   Then he dove at him, using his speed to get inside the other's guard while he was entangled with the blankets.  Remy's shoulder struck the other squarely in the chest and they fell to ground together.  His assailant let out a grunt of pain as they landed.  Remy grabbed for his wrists, pressing them to the hardwood floor and digging his thumbs into the soft flesh of the inner wrist to force him to release any weapon he might be holding.  It was so dark that he couldn't tell by sight.  He could see nothing but a dark blur where the other was.

Remy was fully awake by the time he came to rest with the other pinned beneath him.  At that point, he realized two things:  One, his attacker was female.  The body beneath his was softly rounded in all of the appropriate places.  And two, she was quiet in his grasp, as if she had no intention of struggling with him.  He had just opened his mouth to say something about it when a voice came out of the darkness.

"Ya sure have a unique way a sayin' hello, sugah."

Remy felt his jaw drop.  "...Rogue?"  He slacked his grip on her wrists.

Her voice colored with laughter.  "In the flesh."

"But... you left."  Remy felt entirely lost.  He had accepted-- somewhat-- the idea that Rogue was gone and would not be coming back.  That he had driven her away completely this time.  To have her suddenly reappear shook him.

Rogue sighed and pulled one hand out of his grasp.  Her fingers came to rest on the back of his neck.  "Ah had ta do some thinkin'."  Almost absently, she stroked his hair.

Remy wished he could see her face.  The lamp on the bedside table was out of his reach and he had the sudden, irrational fear that if he left her to find the light, she would simply evaporate into his dreams.  As long as he was touching her, she remained solid and real in his grasp.  He could only listen to her voice and let memory fill in what his eyes could not.  That voice was subdued, with a hint of deep sadness buried within it.

The hurt was entirely his fault.  He hung his head, feeling shame like a tight band across his chest, until it seemed he could barely breathe.  His hair brushed her face, tangling a bit with her eyelashes. He could feel the tiny tug each time she blinked.

She put both hands on the sides of his face, forcing him to look at her.  Her eyes were dark pits in the pale blur of her face, but Remy could imagine the expression there.

"When... when I started to remember," she said slowly, "ah felt angry and ashamed and scared-- and so alone ah thought ah'd die.  So ah ran away."  She stroked his cheek with her thumb.  "It took me a long time ta realize that it wasn't me feelin' that way... It was you."

The compassion in her voice took Remy's breath away.  She understood.  She really understood.  She knew every dark secret he had, everything he'd done, and she'd come back anyway.  Hot tears filled his eyes, escaping though he clenched the lids tightly closed.  He began to tremble, unable to hold back the sobs.  In one short moment, Rogue had snapped the tight band around his heart.  It was like taking a deep breath of the sweetest air in the world.  He buried his face against her neck and wrapped his arms tightly around her until he could feel her ribs expanding with every breath.

Rogue said nothing more, but simply held him while he cried.  It was a kind of release Remy had never known before.  He had always locked the pain away, crushed it down inside himself with such force that now it hurt to let go of it.  Sobs racked him. He held on to Rogue as if she were the only anchor in a storm-thrown sea.  But slowly the hurt drained away, leaving behind a sort of gaping emptiness where it had been.  Still, as the tears began to dry, he realized the emptiness he felt was not a bad thing, really.  It was empty, yes, but... clean.

The last of his tension drained away.  He was oddly exhausted, yet content.  Rogue radiated a comforting gentle warmth he could feel even through the fabric of his shirt.

They lay like that on the floor for a long time, without speaking.  Nothing needed to be said. 

Eventually, Rogue broke the silence.  "Remy?"

He lifted his head.  "What, chere?"

"This floor is really cold." 

Remy couldn't help it.  He busted out laughing and kissed her.  "Would de bed be better?" he asked.

"Much."  She was laughing, too.  Remy got to his feet and then scooped her up.  He carried her to the bed and set her gently down on it.  He turned the light on then, wanting to see her face.  He found himself staring into her deep green eyes and feeling somewhat at a loss.

Rogue sat on his bed and tucked her toes beneath her shyly, but her grin deepened as she read his uncertainty.  She patted the spot beside her.  "Remy LeBeau, tell me ya ain't goin' shy on me."

Laughing, he settled next to her and twined his fingers into hers.  "Y'know, dat really isn' m' name."

She grew solemn, her gaze fastened on their joined hands.  Remy watched her in concern.  "Rogue?"

She looked up at him.  "Tamara," she said softly.

"'Scuse me?"

"Tamara.  It's my name."  There was a hint of playfulness in her voice.

Remy blinked in surprise at the revelation.  "Really?  Dat's pretty."

"Don't sound so shocked.  What were you expecting?"

"I dunno.  Betty Lou, maybe?"

She smacked him in the shoulder with her open palm in mock outrage.  "Ah ought ta leave right now after that crack."  She started to get up, but Remy pulled her back down beside him.

"Y' not gettin' away from me dat easy, chere."

Her face lit with a familiar wicked grin.  "Ya think ya got what it takes ta keep me here, Cajun?"

Remy felt a smile spread across his face. His gut tightened at the challenge.  He knew she wasn't talking about here, tonight, but here, together, for the rest of their lives.  It was that same exhilarating feeling he got when he was in the middle of a tricky pinch-- right on the edge of getting caught and pushing it for all it was worth.  And the amazing thing with this was that he had no doubt whatsoever that he would win.

A hundred replied fled through his mind, but instead of words, he answered her the only way a wise man could.

#

Charles felt his stomach tighten at the knock on his study door.  This could either go very well or very poorly, and no matter which, it would still be difficult. 

"Come in," he called.

Remy poked his head around the door.  "You rang?"  There was a definite bite of sarcasm to the words. Charles' stomach twisted another notch.  He should have used the intercom.  He hadn't meant to antagonize the young man by calling telepathically, but it was just so hard to watch him locking that portion of his mutant heritage away again.

You should know better than this, Charles, he scolded himself.  Pushing him when he isn't ready won't do any good. And now they were certainly off to a bad start.  He kept his sigh to himself and tried to gather his wits.

"Hello, Remy."

"Professor."  Remy stepped into the room.  He moved with a predatory ease Charles had come to identify as an instinctive reaction to an uncertain situation.  It hurt to know Remy was that uncomfortable around him, but he couldn't really blame him.  They had had little contact since their one conversation.  Rogue had returned not too long after, to Charles' immense relief, and he had done his best not to interfere in their relationship.  But that was more of an excuse than not.  The truth was that he had a huge number of important things to do, and it was easier to bury himself in his work than deal with his-- very-- estranged son.  Part of the knot in his stomach was shame for having done so. Even now he wanted to shuffle the papers on his desk rather than face the man before him.

He forced his hands to remain still, clasped together on the desk in front of him.  "I've put a call through to the Shi'ar homeworld," he said.  "It will still be a few minutes before they can link up at their end, but I thought you might want to be here."  So I can introduce Lilandra to the son she hasn't had yet.  He had no idea how Lilandra would react.  The Shi'ar religion was built entirely on the marriage of two gods, and so both marriage, and children-- which they saw as validation of the marriage-- were extremely important to their culture.  Children born outside of wedlock were even more of a cultural taboo there than on Earth.  Lilandra was something of an exception.  As Empress, she could not marry unless she were willing to accede her throne to her husband, who would become Emperor.  Instead, she could take a consort and still keep her throne.  But Charles didn't know if that arrangement allowed for children.  They'd never talked about it.

"So you finally decided t' tell her, eh?"  Remy's gaze was distant, filled with something Charles couldn't see.

"Do you... remember her very well?"

Remy surprised him by switching to Shi'ar.  "Yes."  He turned and wandered over to study the books on one of the many shelves that lined the walls.

Charles didn't know what to say-- or what language to say it in.  The single syllable gave him no clue as to Remy's state of mind, but he suspected Remy was taking a subtle stab at him.  He tried to ignore it, and to keep in mind that he could be misinterpreting the action entirely.  That was one of the most frustrating things.  Remy was impossible to read.  He was too used to hiding his feelings for Charles to trust what he saw, and with his shields in place, too difficult to scan had Charles been willing to try it.

Remy had pulled a book off the shelf and was slowly leafing through it.  It was a copy of "The Velveteen Rabbit" Charles had had since he was a boy.

"My father gave that to me," he said, deciding to stick with English.

"I know."  Remy switched back to English as well. Charles wondered what, if anything, that meant.  He only had a brief moment to consider until Remy continued, "It was my favorite.  Y' used t' read it to me every night when we were here."

Charles' heart did a savage flip-flop.  Remy finished leafing through the book and set it carefully back on the shelf.  His fingers trailed down the spine almost reverently, as if it were important to him to have found a concrete piece of his past.

"Keep it," Charles said on impulse.

Remy shook his head.  "Non.  De book belongs here-- f' now."

Charles didn't get a chance to ask what he meant by that because the computer beeped, announcing the completed connection to the Shi'ar homeworld.  A holographic image began to take shape beside the desk. Charles turned to face it.  Remy walked over and leaned on the corner of the desk.

The projection solidified, and Lilandra smiled at him.  She was still a bit translucent, but Charles had learned to ignore that.  She was dressed in her Imperial armor and held the staff of her office in one hand.  Regal and beautiful, she managed to take his breath away no matter how often he saw her.

"Greetings, Lilandra."  It was a formal address that would probably sound strange to anyone else, but it always seemed appropriate.

"Charles, my love."  Her eyes traveled over him.  "Are you well?" 

He nodded and her gaze moved to Remy.  "Gambit, is it not?"

"Oui."  He watched her with something akin to hunger.  Charles was certain she noticed it when she turned a questioning look to him.

Charles took a deep breath.  "Some... things... have happened recently that I must tell you about."

Lilandra's expression deepened from concern to alarm.  "Is your Earth threatened?" she asked immediately.  The crest of feathers that framed her face quivered as if she were steeling herself for another crisis.

"No, no," he hastened to reassure her.  Since the latest attempted coup, she had been run ragged trying to keep chaos from erupting.  As far as Charles knew, the situation was still highly volatile.  This probably wasn't going to help, but he couldn't keep the truth hidden from her-- not only for the sake of his conscience, but because it was possible an enemy might find a way to use the information against her, and she deserved to be warned.

Lilandra watched him expectantly.

"This is about Gambit."  There was no sense in delaying the inevitable.  Lilandra's alarm faded some, turned to curiosity.  "His real name is Rem'aillon Neramani."

She registered surprise, and turned to Remy.  "You are Shi'ar?"

"Half."  He remained expressionless.

She stared at him for a bare moment as outrage darkened her features.  "D'Ken did not-- !"

"Rape another human woman?  Not that I know of."  Charles hadn't thought she might jump to that conclusion, though it made sense. 

Lilandra's anger dimmed, returned to curiosity.  She watched Charles and waited for an answer.

"Remy is our son, Lil," he told her. 

Lilandra's eyebrows arched in a mixture of surprise and disbelief, and Charles had his own moment of shock.  The speculative expression put a sharp cant on her brows, reminiscent of gull wings.  Remy had that exact same expression, and he had never noticed the similarity before.

Lilandra's mouth worked silently for a short moment before she settled on "How?"  Her gaze darted back and forth between himself and Remy.

Charles sighed.  "The whole story is a long one, and rather... gruesome.  Suffice it to say that he was cast back in time as a child.  He hasn't actually been born yet."

"Indeed."  Charles watched as she and Remy studied each other.  Curious and wary, black eyes and red.  Eventually, Lilandra broke the silence.

"If Charles says that this is so, then it is so."  For a moment, her royal bearing faltered, revealing the woman underneath.  "But I am at a loss for what to say beyond that."

Remy shrugged.  "Y' don' have t' say anyt'ing."

Her smile was grateful.  "You will have to come here once things have quieted down.  So we can talk."

Several expressions warred on Remy's face.  "I would... like dat.  Aman."

Her brows dipped.  "That is going to take some getting used to."

Aman.  Mother.  And he had yet to call Charles anything but "Professor".  Charles tried to keep his sudden stab of jealousy in check.

The hologram wavered and Lilandra looked away toward something or someone he couldn't see.  When she looked back, she was frowning.

"I am sorry.  We're going to lose the transmission in a few moments."  She turned again to Remy.  "But we must talk."

He nodded, and the image rippled again.

"Until then?" she asked. 

"Yes", he answered in Shi'ar and she smiled.  To Charles' surprise, Remy returned the smile.  Already they seemed to share a bond, if a rather tenuous one.

Lilandra turned her attention to Charles.  "Will you come as well?" she asked.

Charles nodded.  "Of course."

The hologram began to fade as she raised her hand in farewell.  Instinctively, Charles reached for her.  Their fingertips passes through each other as the image faded to nothing.  Charles let his hand fall.  It was so easy to believe she was really there until she began to fade.

"Hurts not t' be able t' touch her, don' it?"  Remy stared at his crossed ankles.

"Yes."  That, at least, was something they had in common.  Rogue's decision to take control of her powers didn't keep Remy from understanding exactly how he felt. Charles felt a ray of hope.  It was a place to start.

A loud noise from outside the house prevented any further discussion.  It sounded as if a small tornado had spontaneously erupted on the lawn.  Charles checked the sky through the window, but that remained cheerfully blue.  He traded glances with Remy.

"Stormy throwin' a temper tantrum?" Remy joked, but then Cerebro's alarms began to wail.  Remy bolted to his feet.

Charles' com badge crackled.  "Professor?"

"I'm here, Scott," he answered.  "What is it?"

"I'm not--" He paused as the noise cut out.  "Uh, we appear to have visitors, sir."

"What kind of visitors?"  Charles had sudden visions of the Brood descending on his house.

Scott's voice was studiously neutral.  "The Witness is here, sir.  With Forge."

Remy sagged back onto the desk, shaking his head. 

Charles had to take a minute to gather himself.  "Thank you," he told Scott faintly.  He and Remy eyed each other in silence, as if they were drawing strength from each other to deal with this new event.  As if neither one felt like he could face the Witness, and whatever new disaster he brought with him, alone. 

If it weren't for the knot in his stomach, Charles might have smiled.