Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me, but to Marvel Comics and other important people with lawyers.

Author's Notes: Thank you for all the feedback; I'm glad I managed to get the characters down pretty well. I will say that I'm not really following with who was or wasn't in the mansion during this period in the comics. I'm putting who I want in my story; everyone's lived at Xavier's at some point, anyway, so what does it matter? Thanks again, and I hope you keep enjoying.

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Unexpected

by Kristen Elizabeth

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The days boiled down to an endless string of minutes through which she had to force herself to live. Rogue moved about the mansion like a cliched ghost, barely reacting when her name was called and never instigating a conversation. It was as if the one conversation she'd had with the X-Men had been too much for her to take. And it hadn't been easy sitting in the war room the day after the news became official, surrounded by her friends and companions, and saying the words out loud for the first time.

"Ah'm pregnant," she'd told them in as clear and calm a voice as possible. "Ah'm keepin' the baby...to have somethin' of Gambit."

Scott Summers looked like he could have been knocked over with a slight breeze, and in truth, she would have liked to do it herself for the sheer shock on his face. Jean Grey's eyes were nothing but sympathetic; Rogue ignored the other woman's voice in her head telling her everything would be all right. Everything wasn't going to be all right...without him.

Bobby's face was red when she made her announcement, and she felt a twinge of guilt when she met his eyes. He looked away quickly. She'd never meant to lead him on, but the road trip they'd embarked on once upon a time had been far more about getting away from Remy than going anywhere with him.

Milder surprise graced the other faces gathered for the meeting. Storm and Kitty Pryde weren't even there, having left on some mysterious mission. The Professor and Hank each gave her a warm smile.

But it was Wolverine who was her pillar of strength. He folded his thick arms over his chest and with one look around the table promised much pain if anyone even thought about speaking out in the negative.

Still, no one said anything.

She'd gotten up from the table on shaky legs. "That's all Ah wanted to say." By the time she'd run back to her room, the need to throw up the little breakfast she'd managed to get down had caught up with her.

Since then, the morning sickness had fluctuated, ranging from mild discomfort to nausea so intense that she spent entire mornings hanging over the toilet. The baby wasn't going to be easy on her system, having two strong mutant parents and a hell of a genetic makeup. But Hank seemed to think she could do it.

Every couple of days, Rogue dragged herself to the lab for a battery of tests and examinations. That particular day, she lay on the exam table staring at the ceiling as the minutes ticked by, slower and slower. She could sense Hank moving around; occasionally he'd make a soft 'hmph' noise of intellectual surprise. After the third time, she closed her eyes. "Somethin' the matter?"

"No, no, not at all." His head appeared over her, massive and blue and friendly. "As a matter of fact, I have some good news."

"Oh. Good news is good." She shielded her eyes from the overhead lighting with the back of her hand. "Shoot, sugah."

Hank glanced at his clipboard. "The baby is developing exactly according to schedule, as I'm sure you've noticed.

"My jeans don't fit no more."

"Well, you're coming up on four months." He paused. "Within the next few weeks, a sonogram might reveal the sex of the fetus. Is that something you'd be interested in knowing, Rogue?"

She lowered her hand back to the table. "Ah...Ah hadn't thought 'bout it." Rogue tipped her head back on the headrest to blink back her tears. "Ah think Ah'd rather...wait to know. Yeah." She tried to nod. "Ah'll wait."

"All right." Hank patted her hand with his rubber-gloved paw. "There's plenty of time, after all."

"A whole 'nother five months," she echoed flatly.

"The time will fly, Rogue." He paused for a second. "I did some additional tests today. I've been concerned about your powers in relation to the baby."

Rogue raised herself up on her elbows. "What do ya mean by that? Concerned how?"

"You draw power from other people. It's only natural to wonder if having a living creature within you...if your body wouldn't know the difference."

Her eyes grew wide. "Oh god...Ah didn't even think 'bout anythin' like that!"

"And fortunately, you don't have to," he assured her, quickly. "The tests reveal that rather than your body drawing from the baby, the baby is doing exactly what it should do, namely draw its food and energy from you. It seems that biology will always prevail, even over genetics." The doctor smiled in self-satisfication. "Oh..." He caught her lingering look of panic. "Rogue, don't be concerned. The baby is just fine, I promise. Healthy and thriving. More than likely, you'll begin to feel it moving soon."

Rogue stared into space, seeing nothing as she spoke. "It just...it just hit me, Hank. How much Ah really want this baby. Thinkin' Ah might be harmin' it..." She shook her head. "If there's ever any sign that Ah might be...Ah don't even know what Ah'd do."

"With these test results, there is no sense worrying about that at the present time. We will take precautions and monitor you continously. And I'm certain that in five months time, we'll all get to wake up in the middle of the night to the sounds of a baby screaming."

But the thought had been planted in the back of her mind, and it was going to take a lot more than gentle assurances to overcome it. Rogue left the lab in a stupor, her hands pressed against the swelling in her stomach that, unless she wore loose clothes, was becoming more noticeable every day. On her way to her room, she quite literally ran into Jubilee.

"Oh, Rogue!" The girl looked panicked as she glanced down at the older woman's belly. "I'm so sorry! I wasn't even looking where I was going. Are you all right?!"

She tried to smile. "Ah'm fine, sugah. And not made outta glass, last time Ah checked."

The youngest X-Man looked sheepish and she pulled at one over-sized earring. "I haven't gotten a chance to tell you, but I'm really happy for you, Rogue. I think you're gonna be a great mom."

A little part of her heart warmed at this. "Thanks, honey. Ah needed to hear that."

"Can I do anything for you?" Jubilee asked. *Besides bringing Gambit home?* she added to herself. "Can I get you something to eat? Pickles and ice cream?"

"Haven't quite gotten there yet," Rogue replied. "But Ah'll let you know when Ah start craving for stuff like that."

"Good." The dark-haired girl nodded firmly. "I wanna help."

Because neither of them had on long sleeves, Rogue couldn't hug Jubilee like she wanted to in that instant. She could only cup the girl's cheek with her gloved hand. "Ya already have, sugah."

They parted ways at the stairs. Rogue retreated to her room, her sanctuary from the sympathetic looks and not-so-subtle whispers that greeted her whenever she roamed about the mansion. Jubilee headed for the Danger Room for her daily workout with Wolverine, but as she passed by the War Room, she started picking up on a sense of commotion from within. The door was open, but she hung off to one side, listening to see if she could find out what was going on without making her presence known.

Cyclops, Jean, and the Professor were the only ones in the room, but she could also hear Storm's voice, most likely over the communication system, as she and Kitty still hadn't returned from their mission.

"What should I do, Professor?" Storm asked, static crackling her words.

She heard Xavier sigh, but it wasn't in disappointment or distress. It was more a sigh of relief than anything else. It puzzled her. "Anyway that you can, Storm, convince him to come back with you. He needs to be back here, and not only as a member of the team."

"He's still a member of the team?" Cyclops snorted.

"Scott," the Professor said, his voice warning. "Are you all right with that, Storm?"

"Of course," she replied a second later. "And yes, Scott. He is still part of the team. However it turns out, Professor, we shall return tomorrow. Storm out."

The staticky sound disappeared and there was silence in the room for a second. Jubilee held her breath; she had a strong suspicion about who the subject of the discussion was, but she waited to have it confirmed.

Finally, Jean spoke. "We knew he was still alive. It shouldn't come as this much of a shock."

"It's not, Jean," Xavier said. "It's only the circumstances that are worrying me. Rogue is in a very fragile place right now. I'm not entirely sure how Gambit's return will affect her."

Jubilee slapped her hand against her mouth to keep from letting out a happy little cry. Gambit was alive!! And he was coming home!

"She still carries so much guilt and self-hate," Jean mused. "But she also wants this; she wants him to return to her. I don't even have to read her thoughts to see that. Her shock will be great, yes. But shock passes. Losing Gambit forever never would." There was a pause. "Are you going to tell her?"

Cyclops interjected, "That's probably not a good idea. If he doesn't come back with Storm, it'll just get her hopes up for no reason."

"I agree with Scott," the Professor said. "Sparing Rogue any unnecessary pain is very important. When they arrive tomorrow, we'll take it from there. Still…" Another short silence had Jubilee holding her breath. "She should be the first to know. This isn't something for the rumor mill."

As quietly as she could manage, Jubilee inched away from the door, doubling back to elevator that would take her up to the residence level of the mansion. Training was forgotten as she did a happy little dance inside the brightly lit elevator. Finally, the huge gaping hole in her family was going to be filled in. Life could start getting back to normal!

****

Shooting across the sky just out of radar range of any military or civilian facility, not to mention out of sight thanks to Shi'ar technology, the Blackbird was carrying him home. Remy LeBeau, Gambit, the Cajun traitor…whatever anyone wanted to call him, he was going home to face the people who'd left him behind. But the only one who mattered was Rogue.

He stared out the window at the clouds all around them. Rogue was the card Storm had played to get him on the jet. "We both know the real reason you resist returning," she'd told him in Seoul after their adventure with Black Tom Cassidy, Juggernaut and the damn gem he'd been sent to steal. "Rogue," she'd continued, answering for him. "But issues between people must be solved."

Remy shook his head, cinnamon-colored hair brushing over the high collar of his brown coat. There were way too many "issues" between him and Rogue to even find a jumping off point to start reconciliations. But still, here he was, sitting in the jet, heading back to the mansion, thinking about how god damn good she'd look to his tired eyes.

He sensed someone move into the seat next to him and he turned his head to see who it was. Storm's unique eyes looked back at him. "How are you doing?" she asked.

"Still alive, chere," he replied. "Just be t'inkin'."

"I'm glad you agreed to come back," Storm went on a few seconds later. "Gambit…I know that what we did was unforgivable, but just so you know…something has been missing from the team ever since."

"It be de Caj'n flare you missin'. Like gumbo wit'out de filé."

"It's more than just that. Although, yes…" She smiled. "We all miss your cooking. But it's more like we lost some of our strength. We cut off our own arm, Gambit. And I'm sorry for it. Not to mention for whatever you've gone through to be here right now."

He accepted the apologies with a slight inclination of his head. "Don't worry 'bout it none, chere. I keep no hard feelin's in my heart."

It was the right thing to say to shrug off the subject. She smiled and some of the little worry lines on her lovely face cleared up. "We should be arriving very shortly. Just in time for…"

Remy cut her off. "Tell me 'bout Rogue."

Did her eyes get just a bit wider? He watched her carefully, searching her expression for hidden meanings. If something wasn't right with Rogue, he'd be able to tell, just by her reluctance to say anything.

"She's fine," Storm said, a shade too quickly. His eyes narrowed when she stood up. "Listen. When we arrive…well, let's just say that your arrival will be, for the most part, unexpected. The Professor will meet us on the landing pad, but after that…"

He interrupted her again. "You be a terrible liar, chere. If somethin' wrong with Rogue…" His mint julep voice shook slightly. "You tell me now."

"Nothing's wrong with her, Remy." Storm bit the inside of her cheek as she put her hand on his broad shoulder. "Nothing your return won't mend, at least." She gave him a reassuring pat. "Buckle up; it won't be long now."

Remy did as she asked, securing the belt around his waist and chest, but his thoughts wandered back to Rogue. Was she really all right? Was she really missing him? Did she lie awake at night, aching like he did? It was too much to hope that she might feel even half of the loss that had paralyzed him for the past four months.

Seeing her again…the thought made his heart beat faster for more than just one reason. It was going to be so hard; he just knew he'd been torn between pulling her into his arms and kissing the life out of himself…or walking away from her without a word. The silent treatment couldn't come anywhere close to the pain of freezing cold temperatures and being abandoned, but maybe if she felt a little bit of what she'd dealt him, it might soothe some of his own lingering demons.

That thought, however justified, passed. He could never wish bad things for the woman he loved, no matter what she might have done to deserve them, much less enact them himself. Truthfully, he couldn't blame her for what she'd done in Antarctica. Her head had been so full of him from Magneto's forced kiss; she'd only done what at the very core of his heart he wanted to happen. His own guilt had coaxed out her contempt and inability to forgive.

Remy pulled out his deck of playing cards and idly shuffled them to give his hands something to do. What he wanted now was for everything that had happened in Antarctica to be forgotten, with the exception of the night before the trial. That memory was for them alone. Everything else…it was better left in the snow.

But letting go of the past…it wasn't something he and Rogue were any good at.

The change in cabin pressure told him that they had begun their descent. He replaced his cards and held onto the arms of his seat. Within minutes, he'd be within reach of her again. Remy took a deep breath, wishing he could have a shot of something double-malted and aged.

"Merde," he said out loud. Even one of Logan's horrible beers would have been welcome. Flying sober into an uncomfortable situation was never his specialty.

****

She dreamt of him that night, blissfully unaware that on the far end of the property, he dreamed of her in the boathouse where he'd asked permission to stay. Her dreams were always laced around his hands more than any other part of his body. She'd enjoyed all of him. His broad, muscular chest with its trail of dark hair leading to his stomach and beyond, his corded arms that rippled with every delicious thrust, his powerful thighs around which she'd somehow managed to wrap her own legs, his mouth that had molded so perfectly to hers without fear or hesitancy. But she kept coming back to his hands as they ran up and down her skin. It was what she dreamt about. It was what she needed…the touch she'd always been forbidden. In her sleep, she drew her knees up to her chest as much as she could with the changing shape of her body and wept. She'd never get to feel that again.

But she could live without his touch; she had years of practice. What she couldn't live without was his jokes, his flirting, his gumbo, his damn smoking habit, his accent, his winks, his love. Him. She couldn't live without him.

"Chere," his phantom whispered to her, hidden in the mists of her subconscious. "I be wit' you, chere. Always. Ain't never gonna be rid o' me…'cause I always be here."

"Remy," she murmured, squeezing her already-closed eyes even tighter shut, forcing out a few drops of salty sorrow. She clung to her extra pillow as if it was him. "Remy…Ah need ya. Remy…"

"Should we tell her now, Professor?" The woman standing at the doorway into Rogue's darkened room spoke softly as not to wake the sleeping woman inside.

Xavier slowly shook his head. "Do you know what, Storm? I have no idea if we should or not."

"She's in pain." Storm fought back the urge to go to her friend when her soft cries turned into wrenching sobs. She still didn't wake; whatever dream she was trapped in, it had her fully in its grasp. "This could ease it."

"Or it could make things worse." He looked up at her. "He's settled in the boathouse?"

The white-haired woman nodded curtly. "I can't blame him for not wishing to take up residence in the mansion immediately. Perhaps with time, though."

"Perhaps." Xavier looked back at Rogue. After a long moment of consideration, he took a breath. "Let's wake her. It's the best thing…for both of them."

****

Lake water gently slapping against the side of the boathouse woke him. He lay in the mess of sheets and blankets listening to it, hoping it would lure him back to sleep. Because in his dreams, he hadn't been in bed alone; she'd been with him, her lithe body curled around his without material barriers. And he could feel her heart beating against his chest, as though she really was there.

The unmistakable sound of a board creaking under someone's weight had him sitting up quicker than summer lightning. He fumbled for his playing cards and grabbed one, preparing to charge it if necessary.

"Who 'dere?" he called out. "I got de Ace o' Spades, and I ain't 'fraid to use it."

A shape emerged from the shadows. It was the feet he noticed first, bare and perfectly formed, attached to slender ankles and shapely legs that went all the way up. She wore nothing but an oversized, long-sleeved T-shirt, one he recognized as his own, left behind when they'd all departed for Antarctica. It barely skimmed her thighs, but hid the curves of her body that he knew so well. Her arms were clutched across her stomach; she trembled with each step. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, a tangled mass of brown and white curls that reached all the way down to her sleeves.

Her face, her beautiful, unforgettable face was fixed in an indescribable expression. Equal parts shock, wonder, horror and joy flitted across her button nose, full lips and bottomless emerald eyes.

"Remy," she whispered, her accent warming his stomach more than Southern Comfort.

The card was still between his fingers; he flicked it away as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The few feet of watery reflections in the space between them stretched like miles. She looked so delicate, far more fragile than he'd ever seen her before. A lump caught in the back of his throat and refused to go down, no matter how many times he swallowed.

She took another step towards him, stumbling slightly. He moved to catch her, but before he could, she had dropped to her knees in front of him. Her tears flowed like a waterfall, cascading over her smooth cheeks. "Remy," she repeated. "Yer alive…"

He couldn't stop himself from crushing his arms around her. She let herself be hauled against his chest; her bare hands clutched his shirt. Remy buried his face in her hair and inhaled the intoxicating scent of magnolias.

"Ma chere," he managed to get out around his own tears. "I am now."

****

To Be Continued