Disclaimer: Characters never have, never will belong to me, no matter how many of these little tales I spin for them.
Author's Notes: Thank you very, very much for all the wonderful feeback. I hope I keep giving you a good story to read. It is my singular goal in life;) I'm just glad to see so many shippers out there. Sniff...warms my heart. Well, enjoy the chapter. It took me a whole day to write it and pretend like I was actually working.
****
Unexpected
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
"I wish we never,
I wish we never,
I wish never met.
'Cause now I've got my heart set on you.
I'm set on you."
-Kathleen Wilhoite
****
Only minutes later, she fell asleep against his chest, wrapped up in his arms, exactly where she belonged. Remy looked down at her after he eased them both onto the bed. Her lashes rested on dark circles just under her closed eyes; she hadn't been sleeping well for awhile, he guessed. He pressed a kiss into her hair.
"W'at keep you up at nigh', chere?" he whispered. "'Dis Caj'n? Or somet'in else?"
She stirred slightly, readjusting her cheek against the worn cotton of his shirt. A soft breath escaped her lips. The all-encompassing desire to kiss her was going to be the death of him. He'd thought about this very moment so many times, he'd wanted her back in his arms, he'd even made promises to God about the ways he would reform if only he made it through the ice and wind and got her back.
But now that she was there and his wish had come true, he was finding that it was torture beyond belief, even worse than the years they'd spent before Antarctica. Because now he knew that her mouth tasted like fresh raspberries and her skin felt like the smoothest velvet. He knew that she made love with the same spit and fire that she did everything else, and that when she came, she cried out his name like no one ever had, in a way that was possessive and at the same time, submissive.
He'd gotten a taste for her, and as with so many other things he'd tried in his life, he found himself addicted. Holding her in the dark, in his bed, after months of separation, and not being able to do anything…it was the worst sort of withdrawal.
Remy released a painful, pent-up sigh. She might be sleeping like an angel, but he'd never get a wink for himself if she stayed the night like this. He made his decision quickly. With one of the blankets, he carefully wrapped her up, covering all of the exposed flesh he would have liked to kiss up and down.
It only took him a few minutes to carry her across the sprawling grounds of Xavier's estate. The mansion was dark and silent, but still as elegant and stately as he remembered. The code for the alarm system hadn't been changed; he entered the massive house on a master thieves silent feet. Memory took him straight to Rogue's room without difficulty.
He laid her down on her bed as though he was setting down an armful of Venetian glass vases. Unable to tear himself away, Remy stared at her for a long minute. She'd left her window slightly ajar; the breeze filtering inside made the curled tendrils of her hair dance over her cheeks and lips. He reached out to brush them off her face, but at the last second, remembered that he wasn't wearing gloves. His hand froze less than an inch away from her skin.
"So, I guess we've answered the age old question." The deep, scratchy and all too familiar voice that broke the deafening silence caught Remy by surprise, but he managed to keep from turning his head to acknowledge the speaker. "Can a Cajun find his way out of Antarctica?"
"Oh, we can, mon ami. We got hot cafe au lait flowin' in de veins." Remy conceded enough to glance over his shoulder. Wolverine stood in Rogue's doorway, an unlit cigar in his hand. "I take it dere be no 'welcome back' comin' my way?"
Logan took a few steps into the room. "I'd throw your ass out of here, bub, if it wouldn't wake up the whole house."
"I expect no less," Remy replied, wryly. "But save de strength you got. Gambit ain't back to cause no trouble."
"Then what are you doing in here?"
He looked back down at Rogue as she peacefully slept through the entire exchange. "I come back...to make t'ings better."
The shorter man snorted softly and indicated the hand that had come too close to touching her cheek. "You plan to do that by shockin' her awake?"
"She not de only fence t'be mended. But..." Remy licked the corner of his lip. "She be de most important."
"You don't deserve her."
"You t'ink Gambit don't know dat?" His voice raised slightly, but lowered quickly when Rogue turned onto her side, a frown flickering across her face. "I may not deserve her, mon ami, but she don't deserve t'inkin' she be de death o' me, oui?"
Logan shook his head. "It takes some balls of steel to come waltzin' back in here after everythin' that's happened."
"Gambit never waltz," he retorted, his red on black eyes flashing. "Gambit do de slide."
"Yeah, maybe the electric one."
"W'atever get me here."
There was a moment's pause before the older man spoke again. "She's missed you." He looked down at his cigar. "I was just about thinkin' I'd have to take a trip to the damn continent to haul your sorry carcass back for her."
"De sentiment be most appreciated."
"Yeah, well. You know me; I'm a sentimental guy." Logan pointed at him. "You've got five minutes. When I walk back by, I don't want to see you in here botherin' her, got it? She needs her sleep."
"She do seem tired," he frowned. "Dere ain't not'in' wrong with de femme, is dere?"
Wolverine hesitated. "Five minutes, Gumbo. And if you got questions, you ask her some other time than when she should be sleepin'." He backed up and out the door. As an afterthought, he stuck his head back into the door's frame. "Oh, and welcome back, bub."
Remy smiled in spite of himself. It wasn't a full-on wagon, but at least it was a welcome. His gaze returned to the woman in the bed. "Sleep, amour. I still be 'round in de mornin'."
****
The sun was stretching across the afternoon sky by the time Rogue finally awoke. Her mind was clear and she felt refreshed for the first time in weeks. When she glanced at the clock on her nightstand, she realized why. She'd been asleep for almost fourteen hours. The baby really was taking a lot out of her; she loved her sleep, but she was usually up with the rest of the household.
The room was hot, even with the window open as she preferred it. Rogue pushed at the blanket covering her from neck to toes, trying to escape the heat. Suddenly, she frowned. When she'd fallen asleep the night before, she hadn't had a blanket.
His scent on the woven cotton brought it all back to her. She lifted the blanket's edge up to cover her nose and mouth and she could remember the Professor gently waking her from a horrible nightmare and telling her that there was someone she needed to see in the boathouse. She'd walked down to the water, severely missing the ease of flying. And in the boathouse...*he'd* been in the boathouse.
Her eyes closed. Remy was back. She'd fallen into his arms and he'd held her like a starving man, kissing her hair. He'd been so strong and warm and so wonderful that...she'd fallen asleep. She shook her head at herself. But what had happened after that? How had she gotten back up here?
Or had it all just been a dream? She already thought she saw him every time she spotted a tall, dark haired man on the street; why shouldn't she smell him on every blanket, too?
She had to find out for sure. Jumping out of bed with a little bit of her old energy, Rogue rummaged through her closet until she found a pair of baggy overalls, pretty much the only thing besides sweatpants that fit anymore. She put it on over Remy's shirt, pulled on a long pair of gloves, dragged her brush through her hair a few times, and dashed down the stairs.
Her stomach reminded her that it was empty, but at least it wasn't nauseous. She ignored it, although she knew she'd eventually have to eat, and started looking for him. Several of the students greeted her shyly; she almost had to physically remove Kitty Pryde from her path when the woman started up with a barrage of "How are you doing?" and "Is there anything I can do for you?" The friendship was appreciated, but she was in no mood to chit-chat.
Rogue had just entered the massive mahogany and Tiffany-stained glass dining room when she heard his voice. He was speaking French; she could barely understand the words, although she spoke some herself. And then he laughed, that smooth chuckle that vibrated in his throat and turned her knees into Jello. She headed towards it, more hesitant now. If she was just going insane and he wasn't there, she wanted to hold onto the hallucination for as long as possible.
She rounded the corner and there he was. Sitting in an overstuffed armchair in the comfortable parlor-turned-study lounge by the students, the love of her life had a French book open on his lap and five young mutants, including Jubilee, around his feet on the Oriental carpet. He directed a question to one of them and waited patiently as the boy struggled through a reply, getting caught up in his conjugation.
Rogue cleared her throat. "Je prendrais trois pommes," she answered for the student.
Remy turned his head, fixating his sinful eyes onto her. A moment passed between them. Finally, his mouth turned up into a smile. "Oui. Trés bien fait, chere."
Jubilee looked back and forth between them as they stared at each other. Finally, she tilted her head to one side and said to Rogue, "Look who found his way home!"
"So Ah see, sugah."
The young girl abruptly leaped to her feet. "Come on," she said to the other students. "We're gonna be late for class."
"Bon chance, mes petits amis," Remy called out, wishing them luck as they reluctantly dragged themselves off to their French test. He stood slowly, like he had all the time in the world. He had on his training outfit of body-fitting black rubber with his ubiquitous brown trench coat, and she suddenly regretted putting on her dowdy overalls. Why did he always have to look so effortlessly sexy? "You be a sigh' for dese sore eyes," he told her, as if he could read her thoughts.
Rogue swallowed thickly. "It wasn't a dream, then. And Ah'm not goin' crazy. Ah didn' kill ya."
"Non, chere." He took a step towards her, and tried not to feel the stab of hurt when she took a step back. "But de day's not over yet."
"Ah'm just…Ah don't know what Ah am." She ran her hands through her hair and frowned. "How did Ah get back to my room last night? Ah remember fallin' asleep…on ya."
He loved seeing her flush with embarrassment; the color on her cheeks was precious. "I put you t'bed." There was a pause before he chuckled. "And either Gambit be getting' weak, or you be puttin' on weigh', chere."
Frozen to the spot, she blinked several times. But after only a second, her temper overthrew her panic. "Well, Ah'm sad to see that ya don't change, swamp rat! Ya always know just how to get under my skin!!"
Remy held up his hands. "W'at I say now?" She folded her arms tightly across her chest and refused to answer. "Fine, chere, fine. You don' change, neither. You still take everyt'in dis Caj'n say too serious-like."
Rogue let her arms drop back to her sides. It wasn't fair to get mad at him when he had no idea what he'd said to prompt her anger. "Ah don' want ya thinkin' Ah'm all sensitive. Ah forgive ya, Remy."
"Oh, de femme forgive Gambit! Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle." He bowed with angry exaggeration. "Maybe when Gambit forgive de femme, dere can be a real talk between dem."
She closed her eyes, guilt flooding over her in great waves. "Ah didn't mean that the way it sounded. It's just…ya have no idea…"
The scowl fell off his rugged features. "No idea 'bout w'at, chere?"
"Nothin'," she whispered a second later. "Just…ye've been gone. Lots o' stuff's been happenin'."
"Den… fill me in." He perched himself on the chair's huge, soft arm. "I don' like bein' in de dark, ma belle."
The words stuck in her mouth. She just couldn't get them to come out, as much as she wanted to tell him. They'd never spoken about children, silently agreeing not to torture themselves planning a future that never seemed possible, but Remy really was wonderful with them. The news that he was going to be a father would shock the hell out of him, but if she knew him at all, she knew that he'd eventually love the idea. He might not know it himself, but there was so much love in his heart, just waiting to be given.
Hot tears sprung to her eyes. She couldn't do it. "It's nothin', sugah," she repeated. Hesitating for a second, she stepped towards him. Just when she was about to speak again, to tell him just how much she missed him, her stomach growled, rupturing the silence.
The blush returned to her cheeks and he forgot what it was he was trying to get out of her. Smiling, he stood up. "It be well after lunch, chere, but I t'ink I can fix you up a plate o' somet'in' if you like."
She awkwardly folded her arms over her stomach, feeling the roundness there; her overalls were doing their job. He hadn't seemed to notice the change. "Nothin' too spicy," she warned him.
"Only two shakes o' de Tabasco, den, not four, est ce bien?"
Her stomach lurched at the thought of a single shake of the red bottle of death. "Um…how 'bout some rice puddin', sugah?"
"I cook w'atever you want, ma chere." Without giving her a chance to back away, Remy crossed the distance between them and took her gloved hands in his. He brought them up to his lips and planted a kiss on each palm. She could feel the heat of his mouth through the protective material, eliciting a different sort of heat at the center of her body. When she could think again, she yanked her hands out of his grasp. He sighed. "I come back t'make t'in's right between us. Dey never gonna be if we forget dat we ain' strangers to each other no more, chere." He touched his temple. "I remember up here. We been close as two people can get. I don' want t'act like dat never happened."
"Neither do Ah," she added in as soft a voice as he'd ever heard. "Ah just…ain't sure where we are now. Ah can't go back to just datin' and actin' like it don't matter that we can't do everythin' we wanna do. 'Cause it does, Remy. It does matter. Ah…want ya."
"Why do I get de feelin' dat be de first truth you be telling me?"
Rogue lifted one shoulder. "Maybe Ah'm just not ready to say whatever Ah need to."
"W'en you be ready, ma chere, I be here." He reached for her hand. "'Til den, you at least eat somet'in', oui?"
"Ah thought ya said I was lookin' fat." Her words were light, but her voice shook as she spoke them.
"Since w'en you start listenin' to dis Caj'n?"
****
Scott wandered into the kitchen on a quest for a cold drink. Training in the Danger Room with Logan was never easy, although he'd rather die before admitting weakness in front of the older man. Today, Logan had been particularly focused on his goal, namely taking his opponent down in the shortest time possible. Scott suspected he might be bruised in the morning, and there was definitely a scratch on his leg from one of Wolverine's claws that Jean might have to take a look at later. But he did have the satisfaction of knowing that, at least for the few minutes it took his body to regenerate itself, Logan had been sporting some nice burns on his forearms.
He smelled the heavy scent of boiling oil long before he entered the room; for a second he was worried that some of the students might have gotten it into their heads to make french fries. He even had a speech prepared about asking the adults for help with heavy kitchen adventures, but when he caught sight of Gambit at the stove and Rogue sitting on the counter watching him poke at something in a cast iron skillet with a pair of tongs, the lecture was forgotten.
They didn't notice him right away, so he took a second to watch them. They weren't yelling at each other and there was nothing broken on the floor, so he guessed their reunion and the disclosure of Rogue's pregnancy had gone over fairly well, and that honestly made him happy. Having had experienced his own share of setbacks and hurdles in his relationship with Jean, he knew that the bad times would come, but the important thing was to make the most of the happy ones while they were there. And he wished nothing but happy times for the couple in the kitchen, especially now that they were going to bring a life into the world together.
Finally, Rogue looked up and noticed him. They'd never been anything resembling close, but she smiled like he hadn't seen her do in months. "Scott…ya hungry for some beignets? Remy's makin' enough to feed the whole of Louisiana."
"Dey taste better in big batches, chere," the cook assured her, lifting one puffy, square donut out of the oil with his tongs.
Scott shook his head. "Thanks, but I'm just here for water." He went to the fridge and reached inside for a cold bottle. "You must be feeling better today, Rogue."
She gritted her teeth slightly. "Yeah, sugah. Ah'm right as rain."
"Have you talked to Hank about keeping up with your training? Lightly, of course. I mean, you don't want to fall out of shape while you're…"
"Are ya sure ya don't want any o' these, Scott?" Rogue cut him off without mercy. **Maybe if I shove enough in yer mouth, ya won't talk no more,** she added to herself.
Remy handed her a plate full of beignets so she could complete her chore, which was to liberally douse them in powdered sugar. "Why you worryin' 'bout her shape, Cyke?"
The leader of the X-Men exchanged a long, silent look with Rogue. Her eyes pleaded with him, and although it took him a second to recognize the message, he eventually caught on. "No reason," he replied. "Except that she took a break from duty while you were gone. She's a valuable member of the team; it's my job to worry about the shape of the team." He looked at Remy. "I think I will have one, if you don't mind."
The Cajun man gestured to the plate. "Wait for de sugar, mon ami. Dey ain' de same wi'tout it."
"I understand." He nodded his head when Rogue smiled at him and sprinkled one pastry with white power. Scott picked it up and took a bite. "Welcome back, Gambit," he said, after swallowing and wiping sugar off his lips. "Rogue…swing by the War Room later. We need to talk."
After he was gone, Remy started rolling out what remained of the dough to start another batch. "You on break from de team, chere?"
She chewed the inside of her cheek and idly dumped sugar over the cooked beignets. "Ah…haven't been feelin' like myself lately."
He set down his rolling pin, untied the apron that looked so adorably ridiculous over his rubber training suit and folded his arms seriously. "Rogue," he began. She winced; it was never a good sign when he actually called her by her name. "Tell me de truth. You be sick?" There was worry stamped all over his stern expression. "Is it bad, ma chere?"
Rogue put one sugar-dusted finger into her mouth; the sweetness stung. "Ah'm not sick," she told him honestly. He opened his mouth to go on, but she held up her hand. "Please. Don't push me, Remy. Ah got some stuff I gotta sort out in my head. Okay?"
Even if it wasn't, he had no chance to voice any protest. A throng of teenagers descended onto the kitchen, ravenous and provoked by the smell of something frying. Within seconds, the beignets were gone and the herd moved on, sugar-smeared and yelling the occasional, "thanks, Gambit" over their shoulders.
After catching the lost puppy-expression on her face as she watched her food be carried away from her, Remy laughed reached for her hand. "Je suis désolé, amour. I make you more."
She looked down at her lap; he'd managed to thread his fingers through hers and he felt so solid and stable through her gloves that she almost trembled from the intensity of the touch. Her eyes lifted and met his warm look straight on. It was the moment to tell him, before any more time passed, before there were any more close calls like the one with Scott.
He took a step closer, bringing himself right up against the counter. Without realizing it, she had parted her legs and he rested in the space between them now. Her being on the counter brought them at perfect eye level with one another.
Remy's hand released hers and settled onto her thigh. "I can make you somet'in' else, too," he said, his voice throbbing with raw sexuality. His other hand moved around her body, pressing on her lower back until their chests were almost touching. His mouth was so near hers now that she could feel his hot, sweet breath on her cheek. "All you got t'do is ask, ma chere." When she closed her eyes, he brushed his lips across the very ends of her long lashes, ever so careful not to make contact with her skin. "You know I can't say 'non' t'you."
"Ah'm fine, Remy," she lied, opening her eyes. Rogue leaned back and to the side to escape the torture of being so close, and yet so far away from him. Her secret pressed on her chest like all the bricks it had taken to build the mansion. "Ah'm not really hungry anymore." She'd get something to eat later; the last thing she wanted was to hurt the baby she seemed unable to tell him about.
He let her slip off the counter; in fact, he remained motionless, staring at the cream-colored tiles while she prepared to leave. She came up behind him and he felt her hands on his back. "Ah didn't tell ya…Ah'm so glad yer back, sugah. My life…it wasn't righ' without you bein' here."
Remy forced a smile, even though she couldn't see it. "I know de feelin', chere." Her hands dropped away, and he sensed her walk off a second later. He braced his hands on the counter and hung his head, cursing bitterly in French.
Storm found him still in that position when she came into the kitchen five minutes later. With quiet understanding, she turned off the stove underneath the pan of oil and threw away the unused dough. Gambit was a fairly neat cook, so there wasn't much else for her to do. She approached her friend and touched his arm.
His head shot up; his eyes, naturally red and black, seemed even darker. "Dere be somet'in, Stormy," he began. "Somet'in' she don' want me t'know."
He looked so completely anguished that she forgave him the use of her hated nickname. "Come, Gambit." She gestured to him. "Follow me."
"We goin' where, petit?"
"I designed a new Danger Room program with Scott. It might help you work some things out."
He ran his tongue over his lower lip, thinking. "Dat sound like de right idea." Gambit nodded. "Lead de way."
Storm smiled and walked past him. The men of the house were entirely predictable. Any problem they had could be forgotten in the midst of a good fight.
****
She had Jubilee bring her a sandwich and a glass of milk. There was a twinge of guilt at using the girl just because she was too chicken to venture out of her room and run the risk of encountering Remy again, but Rogue got over it after she'd eaten and stopped the rumbling in her stomach.
Jubilee was still sitting cross-legged on the foot of her bed, going on and on about her tragic French test. Rogue listened with half an ear until she heard Remy's name.
"What's that, sugah?"
The girl gave her an exasperated look. "You didn't hear a thing I just said, did you?"
"Sorry." Rogue sipped her milk. "My head ain't workin' right."
"It's because of him, isn't it?" Jubilee bent over, resting her elbows on Rogue's hand-sewn quilt and propping her chin up with her hands. "He's got you spinnin', doesn't he?"
She smiled with the amusement of an older sister. "What'da ya know 'bout spinnin', child?"
"Hey!" Jubilee sat up, indignant. "I'm no baby. Okay…maybe I haven't been in love or anything like that yet, but I do have two really good eyes. And I know how you looked when you saw him earlier."
"How did Ah look?" Rogue asked, wistfully and genuinely curious.
The girl smiled broadly. "Like you just found a diamond at the bottom of your box of Lucky Charms."
Rogue had to laugh. "Sugah, you are nothin' if not entertainin'."
"I try." Jubilee considered her for a second. "Did ya tell him? About the baby?" It probably wasn't her place to ask, and her conscious was screaming at her to shut up, but she wanted to know. She wasn't very good at keeping secrets, and she really wasn't good at keeping ones she didn't know she was supposed to be.
"No," Rogue said, setting her milk aside.
"Why not?"
She took a breath, fighting the sudden fire in her lungs. "Because, sugah, Ah ain't got that brave heart no more. Ah left it…somewhere in Antarctica."
The silence that followed was uncomfortable to say the least. Jubilee unfolded her legs and got up off the bed. Rogue didn't seem to notice, so lost was she to her sad thoughts. "You wanna know what I think?" When she got no reply, Jubilee went on. "I think that if you lost it at all, you got it back today. And maybe it is a little beat-up, but it still knows what's right. And I don't think that keepin' him outta the loop is right." She paused. "But then…I am just a kid."
Rogue let her get all the way to the door before she lifted her head. "Jubes." When she had the girl's attention, she pressed her fingers to her mouth and blew her a little kiss. Jubilee smiled and left the room, shutting the door gently behind her.
As soon as she was gone, Rogue felt it. Like someone was blowing bubbles inside her belly, the baby moved. There was no definition to the sensation; it was still too early to feel elbows or feet. It was just a brief fluttering, but enough to ensure that there was someone in there. Someone she'd made with the man she loved.
The reality of her pregnancy sunk in even deeper and for the first time, she felt the joy that Hank had told her she would. She pressed a hand against her belly and brushed away a tear with the other.
He should have been there to share it with her. But she fell asleep awhile later, still unable to muster the courage to track him down and tell him, "Remy…yer gonna be a daddy."
****
To Be Continued
Author's Notes: Thank you very, very much for all the wonderful feeback. I hope I keep giving you a good story to read. It is my singular goal in life;) I'm just glad to see so many shippers out there. Sniff...warms my heart. Well, enjoy the chapter. It took me a whole day to write it and pretend like I was actually working.
****
Unexpected
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
"I wish we never,
I wish we never,
I wish never met.
'Cause now I've got my heart set on you.
I'm set on you."
-Kathleen Wilhoite
****
Only minutes later, she fell asleep against his chest, wrapped up in his arms, exactly where she belonged. Remy looked down at her after he eased them both onto the bed. Her lashes rested on dark circles just under her closed eyes; she hadn't been sleeping well for awhile, he guessed. He pressed a kiss into her hair.
"W'at keep you up at nigh', chere?" he whispered. "'Dis Caj'n? Or somet'in else?"
She stirred slightly, readjusting her cheek against the worn cotton of his shirt. A soft breath escaped her lips. The all-encompassing desire to kiss her was going to be the death of him. He'd thought about this very moment so many times, he'd wanted her back in his arms, he'd even made promises to God about the ways he would reform if only he made it through the ice and wind and got her back.
But now that she was there and his wish had come true, he was finding that it was torture beyond belief, even worse than the years they'd spent before Antarctica. Because now he knew that her mouth tasted like fresh raspberries and her skin felt like the smoothest velvet. He knew that she made love with the same spit and fire that she did everything else, and that when she came, she cried out his name like no one ever had, in a way that was possessive and at the same time, submissive.
He'd gotten a taste for her, and as with so many other things he'd tried in his life, he found himself addicted. Holding her in the dark, in his bed, after months of separation, and not being able to do anything…it was the worst sort of withdrawal.
Remy released a painful, pent-up sigh. She might be sleeping like an angel, but he'd never get a wink for himself if she stayed the night like this. He made his decision quickly. With one of the blankets, he carefully wrapped her up, covering all of the exposed flesh he would have liked to kiss up and down.
It only took him a few minutes to carry her across the sprawling grounds of Xavier's estate. The mansion was dark and silent, but still as elegant and stately as he remembered. The code for the alarm system hadn't been changed; he entered the massive house on a master thieves silent feet. Memory took him straight to Rogue's room without difficulty.
He laid her down on her bed as though he was setting down an armful of Venetian glass vases. Unable to tear himself away, Remy stared at her for a long minute. She'd left her window slightly ajar; the breeze filtering inside made the curled tendrils of her hair dance over her cheeks and lips. He reached out to brush them off her face, but at the last second, remembered that he wasn't wearing gloves. His hand froze less than an inch away from her skin.
"So, I guess we've answered the age old question." The deep, scratchy and all too familiar voice that broke the deafening silence caught Remy by surprise, but he managed to keep from turning his head to acknowledge the speaker. "Can a Cajun find his way out of Antarctica?"
"Oh, we can, mon ami. We got hot cafe au lait flowin' in de veins." Remy conceded enough to glance over his shoulder. Wolverine stood in Rogue's doorway, an unlit cigar in his hand. "I take it dere be no 'welcome back' comin' my way?"
Logan took a few steps into the room. "I'd throw your ass out of here, bub, if it wouldn't wake up the whole house."
"I expect no less," Remy replied, wryly. "But save de strength you got. Gambit ain't back to cause no trouble."
"Then what are you doing in here?"
He looked back down at Rogue as she peacefully slept through the entire exchange. "I come back...to make t'ings better."
The shorter man snorted softly and indicated the hand that had come too close to touching her cheek. "You plan to do that by shockin' her awake?"
"She not de only fence t'be mended. But..." Remy licked the corner of his lip. "She be de most important."
"You don't deserve her."
"You t'ink Gambit don't know dat?" His voice raised slightly, but lowered quickly when Rogue turned onto her side, a frown flickering across her face. "I may not deserve her, mon ami, but she don't deserve t'inkin' she be de death o' me, oui?"
Logan shook his head. "It takes some balls of steel to come waltzin' back in here after everythin' that's happened."
"Gambit never waltz," he retorted, his red on black eyes flashing. "Gambit do de slide."
"Yeah, maybe the electric one."
"W'atever get me here."
There was a moment's pause before the older man spoke again. "She's missed you." He looked down at his cigar. "I was just about thinkin' I'd have to take a trip to the damn continent to haul your sorry carcass back for her."
"De sentiment be most appreciated."
"Yeah, well. You know me; I'm a sentimental guy." Logan pointed at him. "You've got five minutes. When I walk back by, I don't want to see you in here botherin' her, got it? She needs her sleep."
"She do seem tired," he frowned. "Dere ain't not'in' wrong with de femme, is dere?"
Wolverine hesitated. "Five minutes, Gumbo. And if you got questions, you ask her some other time than when she should be sleepin'." He backed up and out the door. As an afterthought, he stuck his head back into the door's frame. "Oh, and welcome back, bub."
Remy smiled in spite of himself. It wasn't a full-on wagon, but at least it was a welcome. His gaze returned to the woman in the bed. "Sleep, amour. I still be 'round in de mornin'."
****
The sun was stretching across the afternoon sky by the time Rogue finally awoke. Her mind was clear and she felt refreshed for the first time in weeks. When she glanced at the clock on her nightstand, she realized why. She'd been asleep for almost fourteen hours. The baby really was taking a lot out of her; she loved her sleep, but she was usually up with the rest of the household.
The room was hot, even with the window open as she preferred it. Rogue pushed at the blanket covering her from neck to toes, trying to escape the heat. Suddenly, she frowned. When she'd fallen asleep the night before, she hadn't had a blanket.
His scent on the woven cotton brought it all back to her. She lifted the blanket's edge up to cover her nose and mouth and she could remember the Professor gently waking her from a horrible nightmare and telling her that there was someone she needed to see in the boathouse. She'd walked down to the water, severely missing the ease of flying. And in the boathouse...*he'd* been in the boathouse.
Her eyes closed. Remy was back. She'd fallen into his arms and he'd held her like a starving man, kissing her hair. He'd been so strong and warm and so wonderful that...she'd fallen asleep. She shook her head at herself. But what had happened after that? How had she gotten back up here?
Or had it all just been a dream? She already thought she saw him every time she spotted a tall, dark haired man on the street; why shouldn't she smell him on every blanket, too?
She had to find out for sure. Jumping out of bed with a little bit of her old energy, Rogue rummaged through her closet until she found a pair of baggy overalls, pretty much the only thing besides sweatpants that fit anymore. She put it on over Remy's shirt, pulled on a long pair of gloves, dragged her brush through her hair a few times, and dashed down the stairs.
Her stomach reminded her that it was empty, but at least it wasn't nauseous. She ignored it, although she knew she'd eventually have to eat, and started looking for him. Several of the students greeted her shyly; she almost had to physically remove Kitty Pryde from her path when the woman started up with a barrage of "How are you doing?" and "Is there anything I can do for you?" The friendship was appreciated, but she was in no mood to chit-chat.
Rogue had just entered the massive mahogany and Tiffany-stained glass dining room when she heard his voice. He was speaking French; she could barely understand the words, although she spoke some herself. And then he laughed, that smooth chuckle that vibrated in his throat and turned her knees into Jello. She headed towards it, more hesitant now. If she was just going insane and he wasn't there, she wanted to hold onto the hallucination for as long as possible.
She rounded the corner and there he was. Sitting in an overstuffed armchair in the comfortable parlor-turned-study lounge by the students, the love of her life had a French book open on his lap and five young mutants, including Jubilee, around his feet on the Oriental carpet. He directed a question to one of them and waited patiently as the boy struggled through a reply, getting caught up in his conjugation.
Rogue cleared her throat. "Je prendrais trois pommes," she answered for the student.
Remy turned his head, fixating his sinful eyes onto her. A moment passed between them. Finally, his mouth turned up into a smile. "Oui. Trés bien fait, chere."
Jubilee looked back and forth between them as they stared at each other. Finally, she tilted her head to one side and said to Rogue, "Look who found his way home!"
"So Ah see, sugah."
The young girl abruptly leaped to her feet. "Come on," she said to the other students. "We're gonna be late for class."
"Bon chance, mes petits amis," Remy called out, wishing them luck as they reluctantly dragged themselves off to their French test. He stood slowly, like he had all the time in the world. He had on his training outfit of body-fitting black rubber with his ubiquitous brown trench coat, and she suddenly regretted putting on her dowdy overalls. Why did he always have to look so effortlessly sexy? "You be a sigh' for dese sore eyes," he told her, as if he could read her thoughts.
Rogue swallowed thickly. "It wasn't a dream, then. And Ah'm not goin' crazy. Ah didn' kill ya."
"Non, chere." He took a step towards her, and tried not to feel the stab of hurt when she took a step back. "But de day's not over yet."
"Ah'm just…Ah don't know what Ah am." She ran her hands through her hair and frowned. "How did Ah get back to my room last night? Ah remember fallin' asleep…on ya."
He loved seeing her flush with embarrassment; the color on her cheeks was precious. "I put you t'bed." There was a pause before he chuckled. "And either Gambit be getting' weak, or you be puttin' on weigh', chere."
Frozen to the spot, she blinked several times. But after only a second, her temper overthrew her panic. "Well, Ah'm sad to see that ya don't change, swamp rat! Ya always know just how to get under my skin!!"
Remy held up his hands. "W'at I say now?" She folded her arms tightly across her chest and refused to answer. "Fine, chere, fine. You don' change, neither. You still take everyt'in dis Caj'n say too serious-like."
Rogue let her arms drop back to her sides. It wasn't fair to get mad at him when he had no idea what he'd said to prompt her anger. "Ah don' want ya thinkin' Ah'm all sensitive. Ah forgive ya, Remy."
"Oh, de femme forgive Gambit! Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle." He bowed with angry exaggeration. "Maybe when Gambit forgive de femme, dere can be a real talk between dem."
She closed her eyes, guilt flooding over her in great waves. "Ah didn't mean that the way it sounded. It's just…ya have no idea…"
The scowl fell off his rugged features. "No idea 'bout w'at, chere?"
"Nothin'," she whispered a second later. "Just…ye've been gone. Lots o' stuff's been happenin'."
"Den… fill me in." He perched himself on the chair's huge, soft arm. "I don' like bein' in de dark, ma belle."
The words stuck in her mouth. She just couldn't get them to come out, as much as she wanted to tell him. They'd never spoken about children, silently agreeing not to torture themselves planning a future that never seemed possible, but Remy really was wonderful with them. The news that he was going to be a father would shock the hell out of him, but if she knew him at all, she knew that he'd eventually love the idea. He might not know it himself, but there was so much love in his heart, just waiting to be given.
Hot tears sprung to her eyes. She couldn't do it. "It's nothin', sugah," she repeated. Hesitating for a second, she stepped towards him. Just when she was about to speak again, to tell him just how much she missed him, her stomach growled, rupturing the silence.
The blush returned to her cheeks and he forgot what it was he was trying to get out of her. Smiling, he stood up. "It be well after lunch, chere, but I t'ink I can fix you up a plate o' somet'in' if you like."
She awkwardly folded her arms over her stomach, feeling the roundness there; her overalls were doing their job. He hadn't seemed to notice the change. "Nothin' too spicy," she warned him.
"Only two shakes o' de Tabasco, den, not four, est ce bien?"
Her stomach lurched at the thought of a single shake of the red bottle of death. "Um…how 'bout some rice puddin', sugah?"
"I cook w'atever you want, ma chere." Without giving her a chance to back away, Remy crossed the distance between them and took her gloved hands in his. He brought them up to his lips and planted a kiss on each palm. She could feel the heat of his mouth through the protective material, eliciting a different sort of heat at the center of her body. When she could think again, she yanked her hands out of his grasp. He sighed. "I come back t'make t'in's right between us. Dey never gonna be if we forget dat we ain' strangers to each other no more, chere." He touched his temple. "I remember up here. We been close as two people can get. I don' want t'act like dat never happened."
"Neither do Ah," she added in as soft a voice as he'd ever heard. "Ah just…ain't sure where we are now. Ah can't go back to just datin' and actin' like it don't matter that we can't do everythin' we wanna do. 'Cause it does, Remy. It does matter. Ah…want ya."
"Why do I get de feelin' dat be de first truth you be telling me?"
Rogue lifted one shoulder. "Maybe Ah'm just not ready to say whatever Ah need to."
"W'en you be ready, ma chere, I be here." He reached for her hand. "'Til den, you at least eat somet'in', oui?"
"Ah thought ya said I was lookin' fat." Her words were light, but her voice shook as she spoke them.
"Since w'en you start listenin' to dis Caj'n?"
****
Scott wandered into the kitchen on a quest for a cold drink. Training in the Danger Room with Logan was never easy, although he'd rather die before admitting weakness in front of the older man. Today, Logan had been particularly focused on his goal, namely taking his opponent down in the shortest time possible. Scott suspected he might be bruised in the morning, and there was definitely a scratch on his leg from one of Wolverine's claws that Jean might have to take a look at later. But he did have the satisfaction of knowing that, at least for the few minutes it took his body to regenerate itself, Logan had been sporting some nice burns on his forearms.
He smelled the heavy scent of boiling oil long before he entered the room; for a second he was worried that some of the students might have gotten it into their heads to make french fries. He even had a speech prepared about asking the adults for help with heavy kitchen adventures, but when he caught sight of Gambit at the stove and Rogue sitting on the counter watching him poke at something in a cast iron skillet with a pair of tongs, the lecture was forgotten.
They didn't notice him right away, so he took a second to watch them. They weren't yelling at each other and there was nothing broken on the floor, so he guessed their reunion and the disclosure of Rogue's pregnancy had gone over fairly well, and that honestly made him happy. Having had experienced his own share of setbacks and hurdles in his relationship with Jean, he knew that the bad times would come, but the important thing was to make the most of the happy ones while they were there. And he wished nothing but happy times for the couple in the kitchen, especially now that they were going to bring a life into the world together.
Finally, Rogue looked up and noticed him. They'd never been anything resembling close, but she smiled like he hadn't seen her do in months. "Scott…ya hungry for some beignets? Remy's makin' enough to feed the whole of Louisiana."
"Dey taste better in big batches, chere," the cook assured her, lifting one puffy, square donut out of the oil with his tongs.
Scott shook his head. "Thanks, but I'm just here for water." He went to the fridge and reached inside for a cold bottle. "You must be feeling better today, Rogue."
She gritted her teeth slightly. "Yeah, sugah. Ah'm right as rain."
"Have you talked to Hank about keeping up with your training? Lightly, of course. I mean, you don't want to fall out of shape while you're…"
"Are ya sure ya don't want any o' these, Scott?" Rogue cut him off without mercy. **Maybe if I shove enough in yer mouth, ya won't talk no more,** she added to herself.
Remy handed her a plate full of beignets so she could complete her chore, which was to liberally douse them in powdered sugar. "Why you worryin' 'bout her shape, Cyke?"
The leader of the X-Men exchanged a long, silent look with Rogue. Her eyes pleaded with him, and although it took him a second to recognize the message, he eventually caught on. "No reason," he replied. "Except that she took a break from duty while you were gone. She's a valuable member of the team; it's my job to worry about the shape of the team." He looked at Remy. "I think I will have one, if you don't mind."
The Cajun man gestured to the plate. "Wait for de sugar, mon ami. Dey ain' de same wi'tout it."
"I understand." He nodded his head when Rogue smiled at him and sprinkled one pastry with white power. Scott picked it up and took a bite. "Welcome back, Gambit," he said, after swallowing and wiping sugar off his lips. "Rogue…swing by the War Room later. We need to talk."
After he was gone, Remy started rolling out what remained of the dough to start another batch. "You on break from de team, chere?"
She chewed the inside of her cheek and idly dumped sugar over the cooked beignets. "Ah…haven't been feelin' like myself lately."
He set down his rolling pin, untied the apron that looked so adorably ridiculous over his rubber training suit and folded his arms seriously. "Rogue," he began. She winced; it was never a good sign when he actually called her by her name. "Tell me de truth. You be sick?" There was worry stamped all over his stern expression. "Is it bad, ma chere?"
Rogue put one sugar-dusted finger into her mouth; the sweetness stung. "Ah'm not sick," she told him honestly. He opened his mouth to go on, but she held up her hand. "Please. Don't push me, Remy. Ah got some stuff I gotta sort out in my head. Okay?"
Even if it wasn't, he had no chance to voice any protest. A throng of teenagers descended onto the kitchen, ravenous and provoked by the smell of something frying. Within seconds, the beignets were gone and the herd moved on, sugar-smeared and yelling the occasional, "thanks, Gambit" over their shoulders.
After catching the lost puppy-expression on her face as she watched her food be carried away from her, Remy laughed reached for her hand. "Je suis désolé, amour. I make you more."
She looked down at her lap; he'd managed to thread his fingers through hers and he felt so solid and stable through her gloves that she almost trembled from the intensity of the touch. Her eyes lifted and met his warm look straight on. It was the moment to tell him, before any more time passed, before there were any more close calls like the one with Scott.
He took a step closer, bringing himself right up against the counter. Without realizing it, she had parted her legs and he rested in the space between them now. Her being on the counter brought them at perfect eye level with one another.
Remy's hand released hers and settled onto her thigh. "I can make you somet'in' else, too," he said, his voice throbbing with raw sexuality. His other hand moved around her body, pressing on her lower back until their chests were almost touching. His mouth was so near hers now that she could feel his hot, sweet breath on her cheek. "All you got t'do is ask, ma chere." When she closed her eyes, he brushed his lips across the very ends of her long lashes, ever so careful not to make contact with her skin. "You know I can't say 'non' t'you."
"Ah'm fine, Remy," she lied, opening her eyes. Rogue leaned back and to the side to escape the torture of being so close, and yet so far away from him. Her secret pressed on her chest like all the bricks it had taken to build the mansion. "Ah'm not really hungry anymore." She'd get something to eat later; the last thing she wanted was to hurt the baby she seemed unable to tell him about.
He let her slip off the counter; in fact, he remained motionless, staring at the cream-colored tiles while she prepared to leave. She came up behind him and he felt her hands on his back. "Ah didn't tell ya…Ah'm so glad yer back, sugah. My life…it wasn't righ' without you bein' here."
Remy forced a smile, even though she couldn't see it. "I know de feelin', chere." Her hands dropped away, and he sensed her walk off a second later. He braced his hands on the counter and hung his head, cursing bitterly in French.
Storm found him still in that position when she came into the kitchen five minutes later. With quiet understanding, she turned off the stove underneath the pan of oil and threw away the unused dough. Gambit was a fairly neat cook, so there wasn't much else for her to do. She approached her friend and touched his arm.
His head shot up; his eyes, naturally red and black, seemed even darker. "Dere be somet'in, Stormy," he began. "Somet'in' she don' want me t'know."
He looked so completely anguished that she forgave him the use of her hated nickname. "Come, Gambit." She gestured to him. "Follow me."
"We goin' where, petit?"
"I designed a new Danger Room program with Scott. It might help you work some things out."
He ran his tongue over his lower lip, thinking. "Dat sound like de right idea." Gambit nodded. "Lead de way."
Storm smiled and walked past him. The men of the house were entirely predictable. Any problem they had could be forgotten in the midst of a good fight.
****
She had Jubilee bring her a sandwich and a glass of milk. There was a twinge of guilt at using the girl just because she was too chicken to venture out of her room and run the risk of encountering Remy again, but Rogue got over it after she'd eaten and stopped the rumbling in her stomach.
Jubilee was still sitting cross-legged on the foot of her bed, going on and on about her tragic French test. Rogue listened with half an ear until she heard Remy's name.
"What's that, sugah?"
The girl gave her an exasperated look. "You didn't hear a thing I just said, did you?"
"Sorry." Rogue sipped her milk. "My head ain't workin' right."
"It's because of him, isn't it?" Jubilee bent over, resting her elbows on Rogue's hand-sewn quilt and propping her chin up with her hands. "He's got you spinnin', doesn't he?"
She smiled with the amusement of an older sister. "What'da ya know 'bout spinnin', child?"
"Hey!" Jubilee sat up, indignant. "I'm no baby. Okay…maybe I haven't been in love or anything like that yet, but I do have two really good eyes. And I know how you looked when you saw him earlier."
"How did Ah look?" Rogue asked, wistfully and genuinely curious.
The girl smiled broadly. "Like you just found a diamond at the bottom of your box of Lucky Charms."
Rogue had to laugh. "Sugah, you are nothin' if not entertainin'."
"I try." Jubilee considered her for a second. "Did ya tell him? About the baby?" It probably wasn't her place to ask, and her conscious was screaming at her to shut up, but she wanted to know. She wasn't very good at keeping secrets, and she really wasn't good at keeping ones she didn't know she was supposed to be.
"No," Rogue said, setting her milk aside.
"Why not?"
She took a breath, fighting the sudden fire in her lungs. "Because, sugah, Ah ain't got that brave heart no more. Ah left it…somewhere in Antarctica."
The silence that followed was uncomfortable to say the least. Jubilee unfolded her legs and got up off the bed. Rogue didn't seem to notice, so lost was she to her sad thoughts. "You wanna know what I think?" When she got no reply, Jubilee went on. "I think that if you lost it at all, you got it back today. And maybe it is a little beat-up, but it still knows what's right. And I don't think that keepin' him outta the loop is right." She paused. "But then…I am just a kid."
Rogue let her get all the way to the door before she lifted her head. "Jubes." When she had the girl's attention, she pressed her fingers to her mouth and blew her a little kiss. Jubilee smiled and left the room, shutting the door gently behind her.
As soon as she was gone, Rogue felt it. Like someone was blowing bubbles inside her belly, the baby moved. There was no definition to the sensation; it was still too early to feel elbows or feet. It was just a brief fluttering, but enough to ensure that there was someone in there. Someone she'd made with the man she loved.
The reality of her pregnancy sunk in even deeper and for the first time, she felt the joy that Hank had told her she would. She pressed a hand against her belly and brushed away a tear with the other.
He should have been there to share it with her. But she fell asleep awhile later, still unable to muster the courage to track him down and tell him, "Remy…yer gonna be a daddy."
****
To Be Continued
