Disclaimer: Characters within do not belong to me, but to Marvel, etc.
Author's Notes: Thanks for all the great, terrific support for the story!! I appreciate every comment, I truly, truly do. And I only have a few of my own, to clarify some stuff. First of all, I never took French. Spanish in high school, German and Japanese in college, and that's it for me and languages. So, the only French you'll see in here comes either from what I've seen Gambit say in the comics, or Altavista's translator. I know the person who made this comment didn't mean to be nitpicky, but I think that as long as Gambit's character is intact, his exact language isn't really all that important in the grand scheme of things. If I ever start having him call *Wolverine* "my dear", then you can really complain;) Not that I'd ever do that because...it's just not right! And not in a moral sense; I'm straight, not narrow. Wait...how did I get this far off track? Sigh, sorry. I'll stop babbling. Enjoy this chapter; it somehow wrote itself over the long weekend, despite many, many distractions.
****
Unexpected
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
A week and a half after Gambit's return to the mansion, Jubilee was convinced that it would take nothing short of a blow-out celebration to smooth over whatever lingering resentments or doubts plagued the team.
"I'm not talkin' like a masked ball or anything crazy like that," she rattled on to the Professor as he sat in his chair behind his desk, patiently listening. "But maybe, like...I don't know. A party. Just somethin'!!" Jubilee plopped down in a hard-backed chair. "I mean, everyone's been so...edgy since he got back. Like they don't know what to say to him. Maybe a party would help everyone chill out."
Xavier considered this for a moment. "Perhaps you're right. Tensions have been running high as of late."
"Yeah, 'specially since we can't say a word about...well...you know." She popped her gum, scowling slightly. Such big, huge, wonderful news, and no one could even breathe a word about it in case Gambit might overhear. To an impetuous sixteen year-old, it was pure torture.
He watched her, amused, but understanding. "This is something Rogue must do on her own time. All we can do is support her and the decisions she's making, no matter what we might think of them. But..." He maneuvered his chair out from around his desk. "I believe a celebration might be entirely in order. Good thinking, Jubilee."
The girl beamed. "Hey, any excuse is a good excuse to party!" She checked her watch. "Crap! I was supposed to meet Wolvie in the Danger Room, like, ten minutes ago! He's gonna kill me!! Thanks, Professor!"
"I'll speak to Storm about what Gambit might like," Xavier called out as she grabbed her bag and sped out of the room. **Even though,** he thought once she was gone. **Storm seems to be the most uncomfortable around him.**
****
"It's not that I'm not comfortable around him, Professor." Storm spritzed water on an exotic looking flower. "It's just..." She didn't seem able to find the words to continue. "Tell me what I'm feeling. Because I cannot figure it out for myself. And I have been trying. Ever since he returned."
She moved past him on her way to water the rest of the plants that brought so much color and life into her room. "Is it guilt, Ororo?" Xavier asked, delicately.
"Guilt." Storm fingered the edge of one tiger lily. "Yes. There is guilt. How could there not be? Professor..." She folded her arms, still holding onto the spray bottle. "He might well have died in the snow. In fact, it only seems to be by the power of his will that he survived at all. But if he had perished...it would have been on our heads. On my head."
"You blame yourself. Rogue blames herself. The team blames themselves. Gambit blames himself. I blame myself." Xavier shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure any one of us is rightful in doing so."
"Someone is to blame for it," she replied, rather bitterly. "And as fitting as it might be to pin it all upon Magneto, it would be cowardly to do so. Magneto did not make us leave him behind."
"No, he only forced you all into cells in Antarctica, and made Rogue reveal Gambit's secrets, things you were never meant to know." He moved closer to her. "It is little wonder that there is so much confusion and so much leftover pain, my dear. It was a situation that tested the group's strength."
Storm nodded. "And we failed." There was a pause. "We failed him."
"Yet he chose to come back. He chooses to stay. Gambit is a unique individual, Storm. He has
the capacity to forgive everyone but himself. That is why he and Rogue can understand each other so very well. The question now is, can you forgive yourself?"
"I don't know. I do want things to be as they were," she said, wistfully. "But every time I see him, I feel simply horrible. I certainly don't feel worthy enough to call myself his friend, to call him by his real name, even. The only time I did...it didn't feel right."
"It will with time. But you cannot avoid him to avoid these feelings, Ororo."
The dark-skinned woman gave him a long look. "I do understand that."
"Of course you do." There was a pause. "Jubilee came to me with an idea earlier. She believes tensions can be eased by some sort of homecoming party for our returned friend."
"A party?" She tilted her head to the side; white hair spilled over her shoulder. "It is so simplistic that it just might work."
"Knowing Gambit as you do..."
"Once did."
"As you do...I thought you might have some suggestions on what sort of affair he would enjoy."
Storm unfolded her arms as she thought. After a moment, a smile played on her lips. "For Remy? Nothing but low country boil."
****
"What the goddamn hell is a low country boil?"
"I think pretty much what it sounds like, Logan." Jean looked up from slicing long links of sausage into smaller pieces. "Corn, sausage, shrimp, potatoes, all boiled in a big pot over an open flame with lots of Tobasco and seasonings. Apparently..." She pushed hair off her forehead. "It's a Louisiana thing."
He snorted, looking around the kitchen counters at the small mountains of each item she had listed off. "Apparently. And we're doin' all this, why?"
"Because. He's been home for two weeks now. And we've barely acknowledged that he was ever gone."
"I thought we were doin' pretty good like that."
"Logan, really." Exasperated, she waved her knife at him. "He's our friend and teammate. And don't you think he's been punished for what he did long enough?"
Logan lifted one shoulder and leaned against the counter. "Seems to me he ain't had it so bad. He lived, didn't he?"
"Only to come back to what? A household that's too guilt-ridden to even apologize? And the woman he loves who's..." She lowered her voice. "...pregnant, but hasn't bothered to tell him yet?"
"You judgin' her for that, too? Didn't think it was your style, Jeannie."
The woman *he* had once loved shook her head, red hair flying around her face. "I would never stand in judgment of any of my friends' personal lives. But she's miserable. Trust me, no matter what she's said to the contrary, she is. And he knows there's something he doesn't know, but he has no idea what it is. All he feels is rejected whenever they're together, which isn't even that often, if you haven't noticed." She set down her knife with more emphasis than necessary. "Why can't she just tell him, Logan?"
"Because, darlin'." He pushed off the counter. "It ain't like you and Cyke. What they got is complicated. Always has been. Addin' a baby into that fucked-up mix...it scares the absolute hell outta her."
"All the more reason why she shouldn't have to do it alone." Jean dumped handfuls of uncooked sausage into the twenty-gallon pot that would soon start boiling over the open fire some of the students were preparing outside under her husband's supervision. "You know...he'd probably ask her to marry him."
Logan went to the fridge for a beer. "You been pokin' 'round his head that much, Jeannie?"
She threw him a disgusted look. "Make yourself useful, Logan. All that food needs to go into this pot."
"Gumbo better damn well appreciate all this," the Wolverine grumbled, abandoning his beer and grabbing the pot around the middle with both arms. "'Cause I don't help cook for just anyone."
Jean kissed his cheek. Years ago, it would have been the highlight of his day. Now, he accepted the friendly gesture with a mild grunt. "You're a doll, Logan. Do you know that?"
He extracted his claws and swept shrimp into the pot with them. "It's been noted, darlin'."
****
"All right, Rogue. You may sit up now."
She did as Hank instructed, readjusting the paper gown she'd changed into for her examination. "Everythin' lookin' good?"
"I'll have the results of the blood tests sometime tomorrow, but for all intents and purposes, yes. The fetus continues to thrive." He pulled off his rubber gloves with a satisfied snap. "Do you have any questions or concerns?"
Rogue nibbled on her lower lip. "Ah felt it move."
"Oh, Rogue...that's wonderful. When?"
"Two weeks ago. The day Remy...the day he came back."
"And you've waited until now to tell me?"
Hank's subtle reprimand made her look away. "Ah was afraid it migh' not happen again. But it has...a couple o' times since. Ah'm sorry, Hank."
"Rogue." The furry, blue man took off his glasses. "I don't pretend to understand the emotions a pregnant woman must go through. But I can't help but notice your...lack of faith in your own body. It's almost like you expect to wake up any day now just...not pregnant anymore."
"Ah do," she whispered. "Sometimes." Her voice hardened. "My body's messed up my life more than Ah ever could've on my own. Ah don' 'spect it to ever do anythin' good for me. 'Specially not somethin' this important. If Ah just keep thinkin' it's all gonna blink away...Ah migh' not be so torn up when it does."
"Your fears are certainly understandable," Hank consoled her. "But for your own sake, try to set them aside and enjoy the wonder of it all." He cleared his throat. "Speaking of wonder, isn't there still one person who's missing out on it entirely?"
"Hank..."
"I speak to you only as a man, my dear, not a doctor. If I were in Gambit's position, I would want to know."
"Ah'm gonna tell him," Rogue said decisively. "Today."
The doctor smiled. "I truly believe you and he can be happy, if you'll only let yourselves be."
She slid off the exam table and reached for the maternity jeans she and Storm had picked out on a shopping trip the day before. "Ain' like we've never tried, sugah," she replied, tugging the pants up under her gown. Hank politely looked away to let her pull on a loose, green top that covered her protruding belly and successfully hid her secret. "Thanks. Ya know...for everythin'."
"It is, as always, my pleasure. I shall see you outside in a bit."
Pulling on her gloves, Rogue left the infirmary with a cloud over her thoughts. The party in honor of his return home after their betrayal of him might not be the best place to tell Remy about the baby, but it simply could not be avoided any longer. There was hurt in his eyes every time she diverted her path to avoid him, hurt she perpetuated by inadvertently forcing the rest of the mansion to limit their interactions with him, for fear of accidently saying too much.
They'd hurt each other enough for one lifetime.
It shouldn't have surprised her to run into him on the first sublevel of the house; he had been spending a tremendous amount of time in the Danger Room, according to Storm and Logan. Still, nothing prepared her to see him emerge from the sliding doors, bare-chested with a white towel around his neck. A healthy sheen of sweat covered his muscles, and she couldn't help but remember the last time she'd seen him like that.
"Ah love ya," she'd breathed, clinging to him as they both came down from the very peak of ecstasy, oblivious to the freezing cold air around them. "Remy...please don' ever forget that. Ah love ya."
He'd murmured the same, only in French, too caught up in the intensity of the moment to think in English. She shivered now, wanting with every fiber of her being to be beneath him again, skin to skin, his lusty, sated voice whispering in her ear.
Remy blinked upon seeing her approaching from the general direction of the infirmary. "Chere? W'at you doin' down here?"
"Um..." She thought quickly, and decided to go with the truth. Well, at least part of it. "Ah had an appointment with Hank."
It was the wrong thing to say, because immediately his face pulled into a worried frown. "Dat's it." He started towards her, but ended up passing her by. "I go to Hank and find out w'at it is you don' tell Gambit 'bout you bein' sick."
"Remy!" She made a grab for his arm, barely managing to catch it. She could feel the moisture of his clean sweat through her gloves. "Please, sugah...Ah promise ya. Ah ain' sick!"
"Den why you be visitin' de doctor, chere?" Frustration pounded in his words. "Why?"
"Ah..." Rogue looked down at the floor. "Ah do need to tell ya somethin'. But not here, 'kay?" She ran her tongue over her lips. "Yer headin' upstairs to get ready for yer party, righ'?"
Remy cursed under his breath. "De party..." Irritable, he crossed his arms. "If dere is somet'in' needs t'be said, say it here an' now."
"Ah...can't. Not here, Remy. Ya gotta...let me do this. Just..." She looked up, meeting his glare. "Meet me at the bridge in the garden in an hour. Ah promise ya...no more keepin' secrets."
"Secrets don' work for us, ma belle." He moved back towards her, surrounding her with his heady scent. "I lived wit'out you too long. T'inkin' somet'in' migh' take you away...it keep Gambit up every nigh' since he come back."
Rogue struggled to keep from crying. "Ah didn' know."
"Didn' know w'at, chere? Dat I love you? Dat your health be important to me?" He attempted a chuckle, but it came out so sad that she lost the battle with her tears. "You be anyt'in' but stupid, amour. But sometime...you act like it." Remy reached out for her, but she pulled away due to his lack of proper protection. He let his hand fall back to his side. "One hour. You be late, Gambit track Hank down."
She watched him walk away. In one hour, his life would change forever, but the only thing he was worried about was her health. She, the woman who had abandoned him and still not apologized for it...he was concerned about whether she lived or died. Rogue didn't want to believe it; feeling unloved was so much easier for her than accepting that she was loveable. What had she ever done in her entire life to deserve him?
Of course, as he got into the elevator, Remy's thoughts ran along the same vein. What had *he* ever done to deserve surviving the South Pole and getting to be with her again? Or were the fates just waiting around the corner, waiting to snatch her away with some disease? He pounded his fist against the elevator wall. He hadn't even planned on attending the party they were throwing for him, not because he didn't appreciate the gesture, but because he wasn't quite convinced that he'd earned it. But now, he had to go. Might as well make the best of it. And hope that whatever it was Rogue had to tell him, he would be able to handle it.
****
If Jubilee had known that by bugging Gambit to join in the festivities being held in his honor, she'd be keeping him from Rogue when she needed him the most, she never would have started in on him. But as it was, she caught him as he came down the grand staircase, fresh from his shower and determined to get out to the Japanese gardens behind the mansion.
"Gambit!!" She ran for him and grabbed his arm. "Come play Frisbee with us!!"
He gave her a tight smile. "Petit, any ot'er day. But dere someplace Gambit need t'be now."
She was so caught up in the excitement that his words barely registered. "Just a short game, I promise!!" They emerged from the cool house onto the sun-splashed back lawn. The entire school seemed to have come out for the occasion, enjoying the afternoon's mild weather. A game of tag was on in full-force, limited, of course, by the standard "no-powers" rule. A good distance away from the frolicking students, Cyclops, Storm and Wolverine tended to a massive bonfire over which the biggest pot he'd ever seen was situated. The air smelled like fresh grass and flowers, cayenne and ground sassafras. It was like walking through New Orleans in the first days of spring, before the scent of the river overtook everything.
Their entrance did not go unnoticed. Tag and the food were both forgotten as the students called out to him, welcoming him home. He exchanged looks with a few of the X-Men. There was still guilt in Storm's white eyes, but when he silently thanked her with a nod, some of it dissipated.
Jubilee's hand squeezed his. "We really missed you when you were gone."
Remy didn't have a chance to say anything. Jean approached them from behind; she carried two massive baskets. It wasn't necessary to peek under the red and white-checkered cloths to know that they held fresh loaves of French bread. **Come on, everyone,** Jean's voice echoed in his brain as she used her powers to make sure her message reached everyone without having to yell. **Time to eat.**
He threw a tortured stare towards the little stone path that led into the garden. Jubilee tugged on his arm. "There's shrimp!! And potatoes! Everything's been boiling forever and it smells just like when you cook! I don't know if it'll be half as good, though."
"Petit..." Remy started again. One look into her hopeful face and he just couldn't disappoint her. There was still ten more minutes until he was supposed to meet Rogue. One plate wouldn't take that long to down. "You do all dis for Gambit?" he asked her as they started towards the long table set up near the fire.
"You'd better appreciate it, bub." Logan passed by them, on a mission from Jean to get more butter.
Xavier's chair was silent as he came up from behind. "You are a part of this family, Remy. Whatever happened in the past should stay there, don't you think?"
He hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. "Easier t'say den t'do."
"It is usually thus," the older man conceded. "Still, it is good to have you back." He moved on ahead of them to supervise the meal.
The food was excellent, perfectly spiced and certainly authentic, although the last boil he'd been to had taken place right on the bayou, just as the sun set out on the water. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was fourteen years old again, back there with his first family, the Thieves of New Orleans, sucking the heads from a pile of red crayfish, listening to the older men tell off-color jokes in French and staring at the women as they fanned themselves. His love for the opposite sex had been born there; the way they always managed to look cool and collected, even in the worst heat of the summer, never failed to excite him. It hadn't been long after that boil that one of those women on the bayou had decided to show him exactly what those jokes were all about.
But when he opened his eyes again, he was back on the pristine grounds of an upstate New York mansion, older, but none the wiser, listening to the chatter of three dozen teenagers and staring at a plate full of cold shrimp and sausage, unable to eat another bite until he spoke to the only woman who'd ever completely mattered to him. The woman who'd shown him exactly what it meant to love.
He left the table as silently as possible, after making sure that everyone's attention was elsewhere. Storm ended up being the only one to see him leave, but she said nothing as she watched him disappear into the woods. She'd seen Rogue go that way only a half-hour earlier.
It had never been made entirely clear to him why the Professor, or the Professor's family, had built an extensive Japanese garden on their estate, but he knew it to be one of Rogue's favorite places, so it had been no surprise when she chose it for whatever it was she had to tell him. He actually felt his heart miss a few beats. The taste of fear was heavy in the back of his throat and so much sharper than Tobasco sauce. What if she was going to tell him that she was dying of some incurable disease? The guessing game she'd put him through for two weeks was finally going to come to an end, and he'd never been more scared in his life.
Without her, he was lost. It had been established time and time again. His life was only ever a real life when she was in it.
Remy LeBeau had known pain since he was old enough feel it. He'd experienced fear, been intimate with loss and courted disaster. But until he emerged from the woods and spotted Rogue passed out on the bamboo bridge that curved across the babbling creek, he'd never known panic.
He'd also never moved so fast in his entire life. Within the time it took to blink, he was on the bridge, scooping her limp body up into his arms. "Rogue!" Tears stung the corners of his demonic eyes. "Look at me." He wasn't wearing gloves; he couldn't pat her cheeks to force her attention. Remy found himself helpless. "Wake up, chere…"
She was paler than the fluffy clouds that dotted the sky. He shook her slightly; the movement seemed to work. Rogue's lashes fluttered and her eyes slowly opened. "Ah'm bleedin', Remy," she whispered.
"W'at?" He shook his head. "Gambit don' see no…" His eyes trailed down the length of her body. It was then that he saw it, the scarlet stains at the apex of her thighs. "Mon Dieu!"
Rogue pulled at his coat lapels. "Get me t'Hank. Ah don' wanna…" She didn't get to finish the sentence; whatever strength she had left faded once again.
"You ain' gonna be dyin' on Gambit," he told her, as concretely as his current state of sheer terror would let him be. "I get you t'Hank…you just don' leave me, Rogue." With careful urgency, he picked her up. "Don' leave me."
When he burst out of the woods a minute later, he saw none of the shocked, silent stares from the people gathered on the lawn. Storm jumped to her feet, along with the team's blue doctor who had apparently joined them in the short time he'd been gone. Remy stood on the edge of the lawn, unaware of the moisture that streaked his cheeks as he cradled his lover's body against his chest.
"Help me, mes amis," he asked them, the words choked as his throat closed up.
****
A dark cloud had settled over Xavier's mansion, and it wasn't even a figurative one. When she didn't fight to control herself, Storm's emotions often triggered interesting weather patterns. There was still talk about whether or not the heat wave last winter had had anything to do with Wolverine returning after a two-month absence. Right then, however, she was anything but happy. And the weather had taken a serious turn for the worse.
Unconscious of the rain that threatened to soak most of the state, Storm reached for the cold hand of the man sitting next to her just outside of the infirmary. "Remy," she said, barely noticing the ease with which his real name came to her once again. "Rogue is stronger than most of us combined. She's going to be just fine."
His back was slumped over; only his elbows on his knees supported his weight. Slowly, Remy shook his head. "W'at's wrong wit' her?" Storm pulled her hand away when he balled up his fist. "Why nobody tell Gambit anythin'?"
"Hank's with her." She glanced over at Logan. He leaned against the opposite wall; the scowl on his face was only made deeper by the worry in his eyes. "You know he'd never let anything happen to her."
"Don' seem like he done much t'keep her well so far," Remy retorted bitterly. "She just been in dere wit' him…an' he let her go." Anger infused every cell in his body that wasn't occupied with anguish. Unable to sit any longer, Remy jumped to his feet. The long hem of his coat brushed against Storm's legs as he began to pace back and forth, muttering in French. She couldn't understand him, but whatever he was saying, it wasn't pleasant.
Logan lifted his head. "Calm down, bub."
The simple command was the proverbial straw breaking the camel's back. Pausing only to stare at the shorter man in cold disbelief, Remy's lip curled up into a snarl. The urge to charge something and send it sailing in Wolverine's direction was hard to fight back. With a low growl in the back of his throat, the Cajun man whipped around and stalked off towards the Danger Room.
Storm stood up when he disappeared through the silent doors, but Logan held up a hand. "Let me, darlin'."
"I'm afraid he might hurt himself, Logan."
"Trust me. I ain't gonna let him kill himself before I get a shot at it."
"Logan…"
"I'm just kiddin'." He took her hand, pulling her body up alongside his. "Don't you know when I'm kiddin' and when I'm not, Ro?"
She swallowed. "I never make assumptions where you're concerned. You wouldn't stand for it, anyway."
He gave her a half-smile. "Yeah. You got me there, darlin'." Before anyone could interrupt, and before he could reconsider, Logan pressed a hard, possessive kiss against her mouth. "Assume that from now on…things ain't gonna be the same between us."
Her eyes were still closed when he released her and followed Gambit's path to the Danger Room. He pressed a few keys to unlock the doors in mid-program. Once inside, Logan forced himself to forget about the sweet taste of her lips and focused on the task at hand.
Remy hadn't bothered implementing much detail into his program. The room wasn't altered by holograms, except for the massive Sentinel that his sometimes-friend was currently fighting. He watched Gambit charge four playing cards in rapid succession; the man then hurtled them at the place where the Sentinel's bolts connected its body to its head.
The machine wasn't about to go down that easy. With the arm-mounted blasters that the computer knew real Sentinels to have, the holographic enemy fired at Gambit. Remy barely had time to roll away before the ground he had been standing on exploded. This only seemed to fuel him; he charged another card and threw it with a tortured cry. It impacted in the precise spot to bring the Sentinel crashing down only inches away from where Gambit kneeled.
"Stop program," Logan said before another Sentinel could materialize.
Remy struggled for breath; it wasn't so much the energy expelled that had taken it away from him, but the intensity of his emotions every time he pictured Rogue pale and bleeding. "W'at you do…dat for?" He shook his head, flinging sweat from the ends of his hair. "Allez vous en!!" he shouted, his voice bouncing off the steel walls. "Get out o' here!! Leave Gambit be!"
"Sure, pal. I'll just leave you here to keep on fightin' holograms 'til you wear yourself out and die. That sounds almost as much fun as gettin' to tell Rogue you killed yourself when she wakes up."
"If de femme wakes up."
Logan folded his arms and snorted. "You got way too little faith in her. No wonder you don't deserve her."
Remy looked at him with thundering eyes. "We had dis conversation before, mon frere." He spit out the term as he did when confronting an enemy. He pulled out a card and charged it between his two longest fingers. "How 'bout we don' talk no more?"
"Whatever you want, bub." The Wolverine unsheathed his claws. Gambit was a step ahead of him, though. The charged card grazed his ear as it flew by. The wall behind him exploded, knocking him forward. "Oh…" Logan picked himself up off the ground. "Not a smart move."
He ran for Remy, baring his teeth in a ferocious snarl. One arm shot out, making a wide sweep intended to inflict superficial wounds onto the man's arm and slow him down enough to incapacitate and restrain him.
But it wasn't going to be as quick as that. Remy jumped back and dug into his coat. This time, instead of a playing card, he pulled out his collapsible bo. When he had the weapon ready to go, he brandished it at Logan.
"I ain't crazy 'bout fightin' you, Gumbo."
"Dat or you don' t'ink you can win," the other man retorted, twirling the bo in his hands.
"I promise you…it ain't that." Logan's eyes narrowed. "I could mangle that thing in less time than it takes you to unfold it."
Remy swung it up over his head and bent his knees in a combat stance. "Let's find out for sure, que dites-vous?"
"Gambit! Wolverine!" Scott's sharp, reprimanding voice usually had little effect on either man, but right then, they both glanced at the doors when he spoke. His face was grave. Remy lowered his staff and Logan retracted his claws. "She's awake." Their leader pointed at the Cajun man. "She wants to see you."
****
When Scott left the infirmary to bring Gambit to her, Rogue turned her head on the exam table to see Hank. "Am Ah losin' it?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
The pause that followed told her too much. "There's still…tests to perform, Rogue," the doctor said. She heard something break, but she couldn't see that it was a beaker shattering under the pressure of his fist.
Jean squeezed Rogue's hand and reached out to Hank with her mind. **Are you all right?**
He ignored the question, but didn't mask his thoughts from her. **If I had stayed in the lab and finished her earlier tests…I might have been able to prevent this.**
"Jean?" Rogue looked at the woman standing alongside her. "Ah need to know…'fore he gets in here."
She smoothed Rogue's hair away from her damp forehead with her other, latex-covered hand. She'd never seen her friend and teammate looking quite so frail before. Rogue was always the strength of the group, robust and full of life and rarely prone to showing weakness, even in her darkest moments. But now, she lay in front of Jean, shivering in a hospital gown that already had one or two spots of blood on it. The IV in her wrist dripped drugs into her system to stop the bleeding, but they hadn't taken complete effect yet.
"No, Rogue," she said softly, but firmly, as if willing it to be. "You're not going to lose your baby."
The other woman's eyes were red with unshed tears. "Ah hate bein' all weak like this. Maybe…" She took a breath. "Maybe Ah just can't do it."
**You can.** It wasn't Jean's thoughts that soothed her scared mind, but the Professor's from wherever he was within the mansion. Probably calming the students, Rogue thought. She'd been in and out of consciousness when Remy brought her out of the garden, but she remembered the children's fright. **Rogue, without great struggle, there is no great reward.**
She really wasn't in the mood for well-structured motivations; Rogue closed her eyes and touched her stomach, wincing ever so slightly. The pain had struck her down as she waited for Remy on the bridge; she'd only noticed the blood when she dropped to her knees. If she wasn't losing the baby, what was wrong with her?
The infirmary doors slid open and she could sense him long before she forced her eyes open. His presence filled the room. He crossed to her without a word. "Chere?" Her vision was slightly blurry with exhaustion, but she could see him above her. His hair was damp with sweat and he was pulling on a pair of latex gloves that Jean thoughtfully handed him.
Then, his hands were on her cheeks, in her hair, caressing her like he might a butterfly's wings. "I'm here, chere," he whispered, bringing her gloved fingers up to his mouth. "I never leave…I swear. Just tell Gambit w'at's wrong."
"Remy…" She could sense Jean backing away to give them some privacy. After wetting her lips as best she could, Rogue looked straight into his eyes. "Ah'm gonna have a baby." Her tears came in great waves. "Ah hope."
****
To Be Continued
Author's Notes: Thanks for all the great, terrific support for the story!! I appreciate every comment, I truly, truly do. And I only have a few of my own, to clarify some stuff. First of all, I never took French. Spanish in high school, German and Japanese in college, and that's it for me and languages. So, the only French you'll see in here comes either from what I've seen Gambit say in the comics, or Altavista's translator. I know the person who made this comment didn't mean to be nitpicky, but I think that as long as Gambit's character is intact, his exact language isn't really all that important in the grand scheme of things. If I ever start having him call *Wolverine* "my dear", then you can really complain;) Not that I'd ever do that because...it's just not right! And not in a moral sense; I'm straight, not narrow. Wait...how did I get this far off track? Sigh, sorry. I'll stop babbling. Enjoy this chapter; it somehow wrote itself over the long weekend, despite many, many distractions.
****
Unexpected
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
A week and a half after Gambit's return to the mansion, Jubilee was convinced that it would take nothing short of a blow-out celebration to smooth over whatever lingering resentments or doubts plagued the team.
"I'm not talkin' like a masked ball or anything crazy like that," she rattled on to the Professor as he sat in his chair behind his desk, patiently listening. "But maybe, like...I don't know. A party. Just somethin'!!" Jubilee plopped down in a hard-backed chair. "I mean, everyone's been so...edgy since he got back. Like they don't know what to say to him. Maybe a party would help everyone chill out."
Xavier considered this for a moment. "Perhaps you're right. Tensions have been running high as of late."
"Yeah, 'specially since we can't say a word about...well...you know." She popped her gum, scowling slightly. Such big, huge, wonderful news, and no one could even breathe a word about it in case Gambit might overhear. To an impetuous sixteen year-old, it was pure torture.
He watched her, amused, but understanding. "This is something Rogue must do on her own time. All we can do is support her and the decisions she's making, no matter what we might think of them. But..." He maneuvered his chair out from around his desk. "I believe a celebration might be entirely in order. Good thinking, Jubilee."
The girl beamed. "Hey, any excuse is a good excuse to party!" She checked her watch. "Crap! I was supposed to meet Wolvie in the Danger Room, like, ten minutes ago! He's gonna kill me!! Thanks, Professor!"
"I'll speak to Storm about what Gambit might like," Xavier called out as she grabbed her bag and sped out of the room. **Even though,** he thought once she was gone. **Storm seems to be the most uncomfortable around him.**
****
"It's not that I'm not comfortable around him, Professor." Storm spritzed water on an exotic looking flower. "It's just..." She didn't seem able to find the words to continue. "Tell me what I'm feeling. Because I cannot figure it out for myself. And I have been trying. Ever since he returned."
She moved past him on her way to water the rest of the plants that brought so much color and life into her room. "Is it guilt, Ororo?" Xavier asked, delicately.
"Guilt." Storm fingered the edge of one tiger lily. "Yes. There is guilt. How could there not be? Professor..." She folded her arms, still holding onto the spray bottle. "He might well have died in the snow. In fact, it only seems to be by the power of his will that he survived at all. But if he had perished...it would have been on our heads. On my head."
"You blame yourself. Rogue blames herself. The team blames themselves. Gambit blames himself. I blame myself." Xavier shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure any one of us is rightful in doing so."
"Someone is to blame for it," she replied, rather bitterly. "And as fitting as it might be to pin it all upon Magneto, it would be cowardly to do so. Magneto did not make us leave him behind."
"No, he only forced you all into cells in Antarctica, and made Rogue reveal Gambit's secrets, things you were never meant to know." He moved closer to her. "It is little wonder that there is so much confusion and so much leftover pain, my dear. It was a situation that tested the group's strength."
Storm nodded. "And we failed." There was a pause. "We failed him."
"Yet he chose to come back. He chooses to stay. Gambit is a unique individual, Storm. He has
the capacity to forgive everyone but himself. That is why he and Rogue can understand each other so very well. The question now is, can you forgive yourself?"
"I don't know. I do want things to be as they were," she said, wistfully. "But every time I see him, I feel simply horrible. I certainly don't feel worthy enough to call myself his friend, to call him by his real name, even. The only time I did...it didn't feel right."
"It will with time. But you cannot avoid him to avoid these feelings, Ororo."
The dark-skinned woman gave him a long look. "I do understand that."
"Of course you do." There was a pause. "Jubilee came to me with an idea earlier. She believes tensions can be eased by some sort of homecoming party for our returned friend."
"A party?" She tilted her head to the side; white hair spilled over her shoulder. "It is so simplistic that it just might work."
"Knowing Gambit as you do..."
"Once did."
"As you do...I thought you might have some suggestions on what sort of affair he would enjoy."
Storm unfolded her arms as she thought. After a moment, a smile played on her lips. "For Remy? Nothing but low country boil."
****
"What the goddamn hell is a low country boil?"
"I think pretty much what it sounds like, Logan." Jean looked up from slicing long links of sausage into smaller pieces. "Corn, sausage, shrimp, potatoes, all boiled in a big pot over an open flame with lots of Tobasco and seasonings. Apparently..." She pushed hair off her forehead. "It's a Louisiana thing."
He snorted, looking around the kitchen counters at the small mountains of each item she had listed off. "Apparently. And we're doin' all this, why?"
"Because. He's been home for two weeks now. And we've barely acknowledged that he was ever gone."
"I thought we were doin' pretty good like that."
"Logan, really." Exasperated, she waved her knife at him. "He's our friend and teammate. And don't you think he's been punished for what he did long enough?"
Logan lifted one shoulder and leaned against the counter. "Seems to me he ain't had it so bad. He lived, didn't he?"
"Only to come back to what? A household that's too guilt-ridden to even apologize? And the woman he loves who's..." She lowered her voice. "...pregnant, but hasn't bothered to tell him yet?"
"You judgin' her for that, too? Didn't think it was your style, Jeannie."
The woman *he* had once loved shook her head, red hair flying around her face. "I would never stand in judgment of any of my friends' personal lives. But she's miserable. Trust me, no matter what she's said to the contrary, she is. And he knows there's something he doesn't know, but he has no idea what it is. All he feels is rejected whenever they're together, which isn't even that often, if you haven't noticed." She set down her knife with more emphasis than necessary. "Why can't she just tell him, Logan?"
"Because, darlin'." He pushed off the counter. "It ain't like you and Cyke. What they got is complicated. Always has been. Addin' a baby into that fucked-up mix...it scares the absolute hell outta her."
"All the more reason why she shouldn't have to do it alone." Jean dumped handfuls of uncooked sausage into the twenty-gallon pot that would soon start boiling over the open fire some of the students were preparing outside under her husband's supervision. "You know...he'd probably ask her to marry him."
Logan went to the fridge for a beer. "You been pokin' 'round his head that much, Jeannie?"
She threw him a disgusted look. "Make yourself useful, Logan. All that food needs to go into this pot."
"Gumbo better damn well appreciate all this," the Wolverine grumbled, abandoning his beer and grabbing the pot around the middle with both arms. "'Cause I don't help cook for just anyone."
Jean kissed his cheek. Years ago, it would have been the highlight of his day. Now, he accepted the friendly gesture with a mild grunt. "You're a doll, Logan. Do you know that?"
He extracted his claws and swept shrimp into the pot with them. "It's been noted, darlin'."
****
"All right, Rogue. You may sit up now."
She did as Hank instructed, readjusting the paper gown she'd changed into for her examination. "Everythin' lookin' good?"
"I'll have the results of the blood tests sometime tomorrow, but for all intents and purposes, yes. The fetus continues to thrive." He pulled off his rubber gloves with a satisfied snap. "Do you have any questions or concerns?"
Rogue nibbled on her lower lip. "Ah felt it move."
"Oh, Rogue...that's wonderful. When?"
"Two weeks ago. The day Remy...the day he came back."
"And you've waited until now to tell me?"
Hank's subtle reprimand made her look away. "Ah was afraid it migh' not happen again. But it has...a couple o' times since. Ah'm sorry, Hank."
"Rogue." The furry, blue man took off his glasses. "I don't pretend to understand the emotions a pregnant woman must go through. But I can't help but notice your...lack of faith in your own body. It's almost like you expect to wake up any day now just...not pregnant anymore."
"Ah do," she whispered. "Sometimes." Her voice hardened. "My body's messed up my life more than Ah ever could've on my own. Ah don' 'spect it to ever do anythin' good for me. 'Specially not somethin' this important. If Ah just keep thinkin' it's all gonna blink away...Ah migh' not be so torn up when it does."
"Your fears are certainly understandable," Hank consoled her. "But for your own sake, try to set them aside and enjoy the wonder of it all." He cleared his throat. "Speaking of wonder, isn't there still one person who's missing out on it entirely?"
"Hank..."
"I speak to you only as a man, my dear, not a doctor. If I were in Gambit's position, I would want to know."
"Ah'm gonna tell him," Rogue said decisively. "Today."
The doctor smiled. "I truly believe you and he can be happy, if you'll only let yourselves be."
She slid off the exam table and reached for the maternity jeans she and Storm had picked out on a shopping trip the day before. "Ain' like we've never tried, sugah," she replied, tugging the pants up under her gown. Hank politely looked away to let her pull on a loose, green top that covered her protruding belly and successfully hid her secret. "Thanks. Ya know...for everythin'."
"It is, as always, my pleasure. I shall see you outside in a bit."
Pulling on her gloves, Rogue left the infirmary with a cloud over her thoughts. The party in honor of his return home after their betrayal of him might not be the best place to tell Remy about the baby, but it simply could not be avoided any longer. There was hurt in his eyes every time she diverted her path to avoid him, hurt she perpetuated by inadvertently forcing the rest of the mansion to limit their interactions with him, for fear of accidently saying too much.
They'd hurt each other enough for one lifetime.
It shouldn't have surprised her to run into him on the first sublevel of the house; he had been spending a tremendous amount of time in the Danger Room, according to Storm and Logan. Still, nothing prepared her to see him emerge from the sliding doors, bare-chested with a white towel around his neck. A healthy sheen of sweat covered his muscles, and she couldn't help but remember the last time she'd seen him like that.
"Ah love ya," she'd breathed, clinging to him as they both came down from the very peak of ecstasy, oblivious to the freezing cold air around them. "Remy...please don' ever forget that. Ah love ya."
He'd murmured the same, only in French, too caught up in the intensity of the moment to think in English. She shivered now, wanting with every fiber of her being to be beneath him again, skin to skin, his lusty, sated voice whispering in her ear.
Remy blinked upon seeing her approaching from the general direction of the infirmary. "Chere? W'at you doin' down here?"
"Um..." She thought quickly, and decided to go with the truth. Well, at least part of it. "Ah had an appointment with Hank."
It was the wrong thing to say, because immediately his face pulled into a worried frown. "Dat's it." He started towards her, but ended up passing her by. "I go to Hank and find out w'at it is you don' tell Gambit 'bout you bein' sick."
"Remy!" She made a grab for his arm, barely managing to catch it. She could feel the moisture of his clean sweat through her gloves. "Please, sugah...Ah promise ya. Ah ain' sick!"
"Den why you be visitin' de doctor, chere?" Frustration pounded in his words. "Why?"
"Ah..." Rogue looked down at the floor. "Ah do need to tell ya somethin'. But not here, 'kay?" She ran her tongue over her lips. "Yer headin' upstairs to get ready for yer party, righ'?"
Remy cursed under his breath. "De party..." Irritable, he crossed his arms. "If dere is somet'in' needs t'be said, say it here an' now."
"Ah...can't. Not here, Remy. Ya gotta...let me do this. Just..." She looked up, meeting his glare. "Meet me at the bridge in the garden in an hour. Ah promise ya...no more keepin' secrets."
"Secrets don' work for us, ma belle." He moved back towards her, surrounding her with his heady scent. "I lived wit'out you too long. T'inkin' somet'in' migh' take you away...it keep Gambit up every nigh' since he come back."
Rogue struggled to keep from crying. "Ah didn' know."
"Didn' know w'at, chere? Dat I love you? Dat your health be important to me?" He attempted a chuckle, but it came out so sad that she lost the battle with her tears. "You be anyt'in' but stupid, amour. But sometime...you act like it." Remy reached out for her, but she pulled away due to his lack of proper protection. He let his hand fall back to his side. "One hour. You be late, Gambit track Hank down."
She watched him walk away. In one hour, his life would change forever, but the only thing he was worried about was her health. She, the woman who had abandoned him and still not apologized for it...he was concerned about whether she lived or died. Rogue didn't want to believe it; feeling unloved was so much easier for her than accepting that she was loveable. What had she ever done in her entire life to deserve him?
Of course, as he got into the elevator, Remy's thoughts ran along the same vein. What had *he* ever done to deserve surviving the South Pole and getting to be with her again? Or were the fates just waiting around the corner, waiting to snatch her away with some disease? He pounded his fist against the elevator wall. He hadn't even planned on attending the party they were throwing for him, not because he didn't appreciate the gesture, but because he wasn't quite convinced that he'd earned it. But now, he had to go. Might as well make the best of it. And hope that whatever it was Rogue had to tell him, he would be able to handle it.
****
If Jubilee had known that by bugging Gambit to join in the festivities being held in his honor, she'd be keeping him from Rogue when she needed him the most, she never would have started in on him. But as it was, she caught him as he came down the grand staircase, fresh from his shower and determined to get out to the Japanese gardens behind the mansion.
"Gambit!!" She ran for him and grabbed his arm. "Come play Frisbee with us!!"
He gave her a tight smile. "Petit, any ot'er day. But dere someplace Gambit need t'be now."
She was so caught up in the excitement that his words barely registered. "Just a short game, I promise!!" They emerged from the cool house onto the sun-splashed back lawn. The entire school seemed to have come out for the occasion, enjoying the afternoon's mild weather. A game of tag was on in full-force, limited, of course, by the standard "no-powers" rule. A good distance away from the frolicking students, Cyclops, Storm and Wolverine tended to a massive bonfire over which the biggest pot he'd ever seen was situated. The air smelled like fresh grass and flowers, cayenne and ground sassafras. It was like walking through New Orleans in the first days of spring, before the scent of the river overtook everything.
Their entrance did not go unnoticed. Tag and the food were both forgotten as the students called out to him, welcoming him home. He exchanged looks with a few of the X-Men. There was still guilt in Storm's white eyes, but when he silently thanked her with a nod, some of it dissipated.
Jubilee's hand squeezed his. "We really missed you when you were gone."
Remy didn't have a chance to say anything. Jean approached them from behind; she carried two massive baskets. It wasn't necessary to peek under the red and white-checkered cloths to know that they held fresh loaves of French bread. **Come on, everyone,** Jean's voice echoed in his brain as she used her powers to make sure her message reached everyone without having to yell. **Time to eat.**
He threw a tortured stare towards the little stone path that led into the garden. Jubilee tugged on his arm. "There's shrimp!! And potatoes! Everything's been boiling forever and it smells just like when you cook! I don't know if it'll be half as good, though."
"Petit..." Remy started again. One look into her hopeful face and he just couldn't disappoint her. There was still ten more minutes until he was supposed to meet Rogue. One plate wouldn't take that long to down. "You do all dis for Gambit?" he asked her as they started towards the long table set up near the fire.
"You'd better appreciate it, bub." Logan passed by them, on a mission from Jean to get more butter.
Xavier's chair was silent as he came up from behind. "You are a part of this family, Remy. Whatever happened in the past should stay there, don't you think?"
He hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. "Easier t'say den t'do."
"It is usually thus," the older man conceded. "Still, it is good to have you back." He moved on ahead of them to supervise the meal.
The food was excellent, perfectly spiced and certainly authentic, although the last boil he'd been to had taken place right on the bayou, just as the sun set out on the water. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was fourteen years old again, back there with his first family, the Thieves of New Orleans, sucking the heads from a pile of red crayfish, listening to the older men tell off-color jokes in French and staring at the women as they fanned themselves. His love for the opposite sex had been born there; the way they always managed to look cool and collected, even in the worst heat of the summer, never failed to excite him. It hadn't been long after that boil that one of those women on the bayou had decided to show him exactly what those jokes were all about.
But when he opened his eyes again, he was back on the pristine grounds of an upstate New York mansion, older, but none the wiser, listening to the chatter of three dozen teenagers and staring at a plate full of cold shrimp and sausage, unable to eat another bite until he spoke to the only woman who'd ever completely mattered to him. The woman who'd shown him exactly what it meant to love.
He left the table as silently as possible, after making sure that everyone's attention was elsewhere. Storm ended up being the only one to see him leave, but she said nothing as she watched him disappear into the woods. She'd seen Rogue go that way only a half-hour earlier.
It had never been made entirely clear to him why the Professor, or the Professor's family, had built an extensive Japanese garden on their estate, but he knew it to be one of Rogue's favorite places, so it had been no surprise when she chose it for whatever it was she had to tell him. He actually felt his heart miss a few beats. The taste of fear was heavy in the back of his throat and so much sharper than Tobasco sauce. What if she was going to tell him that she was dying of some incurable disease? The guessing game she'd put him through for two weeks was finally going to come to an end, and he'd never been more scared in his life.
Without her, he was lost. It had been established time and time again. His life was only ever a real life when she was in it.
Remy LeBeau had known pain since he was old enough feel it. He'd experienced fear, been intimate with loss and courted disaster. But until he emerged from the woods and spotted Rogue passed out on the bamboo bridge that curved across the babbling creek, he'd never known panic.
He'd also never moved so fast in his entire life. Within the time it took to blink, he was on the bridge, scooping her limp body up into his arms. "Rogue!" Tears stung the corners of his demonic eyes. "Look at me." He wasn't wearing gloves; he couldn't pat her cheeks to force her attention. Remy found himself helpless. "Wake up, chere…"
She was paler than the fluffy clouds that dotted the sky. He shook her slightly; the movement seemed to work. Rogue's lashes fluttered and her eyes slowly opened. "Ah'm bleedin', Remy," she whispered.
"W'at?" He shook his head. "Gambit don' see no…" His eyes trailed down the length of her body. It was then that he saw it, the scarlet stains at the apex of her thighs. "Mon Dieu!"
Rogue pulled at his coat lapels. "Get me t'Hank. Ah don' wanna…" She didn't get to finish the sentence; whatever strength she had left faded once again.
"You ain' gonna be dyin' on Gambit," he told her, as concretely as his current state of sheer terror would let him be. "I get you t'Hank…you just don' leave me, Rogue." With careful urgency, he picked her up. "Don' leave me."
When he burst out of the woods a minute later, he saw none of the shocked, silent stares from the people gathered on the lawn. Storm jumped to her feet, along with the team's blue doctor who had apparently joined them in the short time he'd been gone. Remy stood on the edge of the lawn, unaware of the moisture that streaked his cheeks as he cradled his lover's body against his chest.
"Help me, mes amis," he asked them, the words choked as his throat closed up.
****
A dark cloud had settled over Xavier's mansion, and it wasn't even a figurative one. When she didn't fight to control herself, Storm's emotions often triggered interesting weather patterns. There was still talk about whether or not the heat wave last winter had had anything to do with Wolverine returning after a two-month absence. Right then, however, she was anything but happy. And the weather had taken a serious turn for the worse.
Unconscious of the rain that threatened to soak most of the state, Storm reached for the cold hand of the man sitting next to her just outside of the infirmary. "Remy," she said, barely noticing the ease with which his real name came to her once again. "Rogue is stronger than most of us combined. She's going to be just fine."
His back was slumped over; only his elbows on his knees supported his weight. Slowly, Remy shook his head. "W'at's wrong wit' her?" Storm pulled her hand away when he balled up his fist. "Why nobody tell Gambit anythin'?"
"Hank's with her." She glanced over at Logan. He leaned against the opposite wall; the scowl on his face was only made deeper by the worry in his eyes. "You know he'd never let anything happen to her."
"Don' seem like he done much t'keep her well so far," Remy retorted bitterly. "She just been in dere wit' him…an' he let her go." Anger infused every cell in his body that wasn't occupied with anguish. Unable to sit any longer, Remy jumped to his feet. The long hem of his coat brushed against Storm's legs as he began to pace back and forth, muttering in French. She couldn't understand him, but whatever he was saying, it wasn't pleasant.
Logan lifted his head. "Calm down, bub."
The simple command was the proverbial straw breaking the camel's back. Pausing only to stare at the shorter man in cold disbelief, Remy's lip curled up into a snarl. The urge to charge something and send it sailing in Wolverine's direction was hard to fight back. With a low growl in the back of his throat, the Cajun man whipped around and stalked off towards the Danger Room.
Storm stood up when he disappeared through the silent doors, but Logan held up a hand. "Let me, darlin'."
"I'm afraid he might hurt himself, Logan."
"Trust me. I ain't gonna let him kill himself before I get a shot at it."
"Logan…"
"I'm just kiddin'." He took her hand, pulling her body up alongside his. "Don't you know when I'm kiddin' and when I'm not, Ro?"
She swallowed. "I never make assumptions where you're concerned. You wouldn't stand for it, anyway."
He gave her a half-smile. "Yeah. You got me there, darlin'." Before anyone could interrupt, and before he could reconsider, Logan pressed a hard, possessive kiss against her mouth. "Assume that from now on…things ain't gonna be the same between us."
Her eyes were still closed when he released her and followed Gambit's path to the Danger Room. He pressed a few keys to unlock the doors in mid-program. Once inside, Logan forced himself to forget about the sweet taste of her lips and focused on the task at hand.
Remy hadn't bothered implementing much detail into his program. The room wasn't altered by holograms, except for the massive Sentinel that his sometimes-friend was currently fighting. He watched Gambit charge four playing cards in rapid succession; the man then hurtled them at the place where the Sentinel's bolts connected its body to its head.
The machine wasn't about to go down that easy. With the arm-mounted blasters that the computer knew real Sentinels to have, the holographic enemy fired at Gambit. Remy barely had time to roll away before the ground he had been standing on exploded. This only seemed to fuel him; he charged another card and threw it with a tortured cry. It impacted in the precise spot to bring the Sentinel crashing down only inches away from where Gambit kneeled.
"Stop program," Logan said before another Sentinel could materialize.
Remy struggled for breath; it wasn't so much the energy expelled that had taken it away from him, but the intensity of his emotions every time he pictured Rogue pale and bleeding. "W'at you do…dat for?" He shook his head, flinging sweat from the ends of his hair. "Allez vous en!!" he shouted, his voice bouncing off the steel walls. "Get out o' here!! Leave Gambit be!"
"Sure, pal. I'll just leave you here to keep on fightin' holograms 'til you wear yourself out and die. That sounds almost as much fun as gettin' to tell Rogue you killed yourself when she wakes up."
"If de femme wakes up."
Logan folded his arms and snorted. "You got way too little faith in her. No wonder you don't deserve her."
Remy looked at him with thundering eyes. "We had dis conversation before, mon frere." He spit out the term as he did when confronting an enemy. He pulled out a card and charged it between his two longest fingers. "How 'bout we don' talk no more?"
"Whatever you want, bub." The Wolverine unsheathed his claws. Gambit was a step ahead of him, though. The charged card grazed his ear as it flew by. The wall behind him exploded, knocking him forward. "Oh…" Logan picked himself up off the ground. "Not a smart move."
He ran for Remy, baring his teeth in a ferocious snarl. One arm shot out, making a wide sweep intended to inflict superficial wounds onto the man's arm and slow him down enough to incapacitate and restrain him.
But it wasn't going to be as quick as that. Remy jumped back and dug into his coat. This time, instead of a playing card, he pulled out his collapsible bo. When he had the weapon ready to go, he brandished it at Logan.
"I ain't crazy 'bout fightin' you, Gumbo."
"Dat or you don' t'ink you can win," the other man retorted, twirling the bo in his hands.
"I promise you…it ain't that." Logan's eyes narrowed. "I could mangle that thing in less time than it takes you to unfold it."
Remy swung it up over his head and bent his knees in a combat stance. "Let's find out for sure, que dites-vous?"
"Gambit! Wolverine!" Scott's sharp, reprimanding voice usually had little effect on either man, but right then, they both glanced at the doors when he spoke. His face was grave. Remy lowered his staff and Logan retracted his claws. "She's awake." Their leader pointed at the Cajun man. "She wants to see you."
****
When Scott left the infirmary to bring Gambit to her, Rogue turned her head on the exam table to see Hank. "Am Ah losin' it?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
The pause that followed told her too much. "There's still…tests to perform, Rogue," the doctor said. She heard something break, but she couldn't see that it was a beaker shattering under the pressure of his fist.
Jean squeezed Rogue's hand and reached out to Hank with her mind. **Are you all right?**
He ignored the question, but didn't mask his thoughts from her. **If I had stayed in the lab and finished her earlier tests…I might have been able to prevent this.**
"Jean?" Rogue looked at the woman standing alongside her. "Ah need to know…'fore he gets in here."
She smoothed Rogue's hair away from her damp forehead with her other, latex-covered hand. She'd never seen her friend and teammate looking quite so frail before. Rogue was always the strength of the group, robust and full of life and rarely prone to showing weakness, even in her darkest moments. But now, she lay in front of Jean, shivering in a hospital gown that already had one or two spots of blood on it. The IV in her wrist dripped drugs into her system to stop the bleeding, but they hadn't taken complete effect yet.
"No, Rogue," she said softly, but firmly, as if willing it to be. "You're not going to lose your baby."
The other woman's eyes were red with unshed tears. "Ah hate bein' all weak like this. Maybe…" She took a breath. "Maybe Ah just can't do it."
**You can.** It wasn't Jean's thoughts that soothed her scared mind, but the Professor's from wherever he was within the mansion. Probably calming the students, Rogue thought. She'd been in and out of consciousness when Remy brought her out of the garden, but she remembered the children's fright. **Rogue, without great struggle, there is no great reward.**
She really wasn't in the mood for well-structured motivations; Rogue closed her eyes and touched her stomach, wincing ever so slightly. The pain had struck her down as she waited for Remy on the bridge; she'd only noticed the blood when she dropped to her knees. If she wasn't losing the baby, what was wrong with her?
The infirmary doors slid open and she could sense him long before she forced her eyes open. His presence filled the room. He crossed to her without a word. "Chere?" Her vision was slightly blurry with exhaustion, but she could see him above her. His hair was damp with sweat and he was pulling on a pair of latex gloves that Jean thoughtfully handed him.
Then, his hands were on her cheeks, in her hair, caressing her like he might a butterfly's wings. "I'm here, chere," he whispered, bringing her gloved fingers up to his mouth. "I never leave…I swear. Just tell Gambit w'at's wrong."
"Remy…" She could sense Jean backing away to give them some privacy. After wetting her lips as best she could, Rogue looked straight into his eyes. "Ah'm gonna have a baby." Her tears came in great waves. "Ah hope."
****
To Be Continued
