Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me; I only play with them during my spare time.
Author's Notes: Thank ya'll, again, so much for the kind words. Your support means a lot. I hope you keep reading and enjoying, no matter what happens;)
****
Unexpected
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
"Whatever we deny or embrace
For worse or for better
We belong, we belong
We belong together."
-Pat Benatar
****
"Chere." Remy rapped lightly on the bathroom door. "You ever comin' out o' dere?" Upon receiving no reply, he knocked again. "Ma chere...everyt'ing all righ'? You been real quiet since dinner."
A moment later, she finally replied, "Ah'm fine, Gambit. Remy. Ah'm just tired. Ah think Ah'm gonna go to sleep."
He blinked. "In dere? Ma belle...sleep be a bit more comf'table in de bed." After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only twenty minutes after she'd disappeared into the bathroom, Rogue opened the door and stepped out, looking up at him with the green eyes he adored so much. "Come on, chere." He held out his hand to her.
"Actually...Ah was thinkin' Ah'd like to sleep by myself tonigh'. If ya don' mind."
Remy paused with his arm outstretched. "Chere?"
"Ah mean," Rogue continued, making her way over to the bed with one hand on her protruding stomach. "It ain' like we don' got our whole lives to sleep together, sugah."
"Oui." He lowered his arm. "'Course, chere. If dat be w'at you want...I sleep in de boathouse."
"That's what Ah want." She slid into bed and neatly arranged the covers around herself. "Close the door on yer way out."
Remy stood still for a second, looking extremely confused in his long-sleeved cotton shirt and navy blue pajama pants. Finally, he started to the door, but paused when his hand touched the brass knob. He glanced back at her. "Bonne nuit, ma belle."
Once in the hallway, he stopped to consider what had just happened. He'd been kicked out for the night. He frowned. It didn't feel good. Remy kicked the edge of the oriental carpet with his bare foot. So, she wanted a night alone. That certainly wasn't a crime. And she was right, they did have the rest of their lives to fall asleep and wake up together.
Still, something about it bothered him.
He'd intended to go straight to the boathouse, but he found himself walking the opposite direction, heading for Storm's bedroom. Along the short path, he sensed movement in the shadows created by the hallway's nooks and crannies. Squinting, he tried to identify the source of it. When he saw Bobby concealing himself in the darkness, he addressed him, "Dere be a game o' hide n' seek goin' on?"
The blond man paled, but stepped into the weak light of the moon that streamed in from one floor-to-ceiling window. "Um...of course not. I was just heading...downstairs. For a glass of...um...water, and I..."
A door a few feet down from where they stood opened, spilling bright yellow light into the hall. Kitty stepped out into it and looked around until she spotted them. "Bobby, you're late...oh, my god. Gambit!" She crossed her arms over her barely-there nightgown. "Um...hi."
Clearing his throat, Bobby gave the Cajun man a look. "Can you be discreet about this?"
Trying to keep from laughing, Remy raised both of his hands into the air. "Gambit be de sole o' tact, mes amis." Tipping an imaginary hat at them, he winked. "Have a *very* bonne nuit."
When Kitty's door closed, leaving him alone in the hallway, he continued on his path until he found himself standing in front of Storm's door. He knocked once, then twice, then three times. "Stormy? You be in dere?"
He raised his hand for a fourth knock, but the door suddenly opened a crack. He couldn't see all of her, but he could tell that she was still tying the sash on her robe as she spoke. "Remy? What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?"
"I know, chere. An' Gambit sorry." He hesitated. "It be 'bout Rogue."
Storm looked over her shoulder for a second. "All right. Come in."
As soon as he entered, he wanted to turn right back around and leave. Logan lounged in Storm's bed, propped up against the headboard in nothing but a pair of faded jeans with the top button undone. Remy shook his head, muttering an amused curse in French. "Dis be de horniest house in de state."
"No wonder you keep coming back here, bub." Logan scratched his ribs. "Wanna tells us why you're bargin' in like this?"
Storm closed the door. "Is something wrong with Rogue?"
"Dat be Gambit's question."
After he relayed the events that had led up to his appearance at Storm's door after midnight in his sleep clothes, Logan snorted. "That's it? She kicked you out of bed for one night, and it's the end of the world?"
Remy pointedly ignored him. "Has she talked t'you, chere? Said anyt'ing 'bout w'at she be feelin'?"
The weather goddess sat on the edge of her bed and primly crossed her legs. "I don't know, Remy."
"Sil vous plait."
"She's worried, Remy," Storm finally told him. "She loves you so much that she wants to give you everything. But she knows that she can't. And she's afraid you're throwing away your sexuality."
Remy cursed again, this time much more sharply. "How many time do Gambit have t'tell dat femme dat he don' care 'bout de sex?!"
Logan gave him a thorough look. "Yeah, right."
"Hey!" Storm stood up to keep Remy from charging her lover. "Stop it. Both of you."
The Cajun man's eyes flashed dangerously. "W'at more can Gambit do?"
"She's asked for some space tonight." She put a sympathetic hand on his broad shoulder. "If that's all she needs, just give to her. We all will...until she's ready. Okay?"
He sighed, scrubbed both palms down his face, and nodded. "Oui." After a second, he took Storm's hand and brought the back of it up to his lips. "Merci, chere."
"Anytime, Remy," she called out as he headed for the door. "Goodnight...it'll all work out. You'll see." When the door closed behind him, Storm turned and glared at Logan.
"What?" he asked, as innocent as he could get.
"You know what."
He swung his legs over the side of the bed. "He's your friend, darlin', not mine."
"Regardless, you don't have to egg him on. Rogue loves him. If you can't go easy on him for my sake, will you at least do it for hers?"
"Depends." Logan stood up and advanced on her. "What's in it for me?" She had no chance to reply; his mouth had already found the notch at the base of her throat, and his hands were tangled in her hair. She was just about to give in to the delicious sensation, when he stopped and lifted his head.
"What's wrong?"
He sniffed the air. "Don't know." Sniffing again, he said, "Thought I smelled something..."
"I borrowed a perfume from Jean." Storm shook her head and looked away. "Trust you to pick up on that."
"It's not you. Must've been somethin' on the Cajun." He rotated his shoulders. "Weird." His attention returned to her. "Where was I?"
Storm forgot about their fight entirely when he picked her up and carried her back to the bed. Nothing more was said about Remy or Rogue or anyone else for the rest of the night.
****
The first thing she felt was cold. Frowning, Rogue rolled to her other side, fully expecting to come up against the solid warmth of Remy's body in the bed next to her. But all she encountered was more empty space. She opened one eye. Instead of her pillows, nightstand and flowered wallpaper, she saw nothing but grey rocks. "Where am Ah?"
"You're safe. And you're amongst friends," a man replied. "Not many of our kind can say the same."
She recognized the evangelical words before she even picked up on the voice. Rogue blinked several times. "Still preachin' to the choir, sugah?"
The man called Magento stepped out from the shadows, his cape sweeping the ground with each step. "Are you back in the choir, my dear? At last check, your loyalties were still misplaced with Charles and his do-gooders."
"My loyalties lie with people who deserve 'em." She struggled to sit up and see over her stomach. "With my friends."
He let it go for the moment. "Look at you. You're radiant." His voice grew hard. "Even carrying that bastard's bastard."
Rogue's eyes narrowed into thin slits. "Speakin' 'bout bastards, what do ya want with me?"
"Didn't your mother tell you? I only want to talk to you."
"Mystique ain' my momma."
Eric lifted his shoulders. "Semantics, Rogue. Only semantics." He knelt down a few feet away from her. "You turned your back on her. And I think it actually hurt her."
"Should Ah care?"
"That's between you and Mystique." He considered her from a distance. "I suppose you're wondering why I've gone to so much trouble just to talk to you."
"Ye've always liked the dramatics."
"Seeing you at your Gambit's trial..." The older man pressed the tips of his fingers together. "I realized something."
"That yer a heartless excuse for a man?"
The corners of his mouth turned up wryly. "I want you back with me, Rogue."
She stared at him, slack-jawed. "It's finally happened, sugah. All those years of messin' with everyone else's heads...an' all that crazy power ya got goin'...it's finally driven ya crazy."
"I had a feeling you'd say something like that."
"What did ya 'spect me to say?! After what ya did to me and Remy...what ya made me do to him?!" Rogue raised herself up on tightly balled fists. "Did ya think Ah'd just shake my head an' go, 'that silly, sentimental Magneto...he's just nutty like that...an' Ah can' wait to get back to doin' his dirty work'?!?" The baby kicked in protest of all the adrenaline rushing through her system. "Ah hate ya," she spat at him.
Eric stood, almost sadly. "There was a time when you didn't."
"There was a time when Ah hated the rest o' the world so much that ya seemed okay in comparison," she corrected him. "Now...here's what yer gonna do. Yer gonna let me go 'fore every X-Man who's able comes here lookin' for me. An' ya know they will...'specially that 'bastard' as ya call him."
"No, they won't." He shook his head. "They really, really won't."
Some of the bravado left her voice. "An' why's that?"
"Because." He knelt again, only this time directly next to her on the blanket she'd been laid upon while she slept. "They have no idea that you're missing, my dear. Mystique is taking your place for a little while. But don't worry. She doesn't have any designs on your Cajun. In fact, she's not too thrilled with what he's done to you." Eric reached out to touch her stomach. "Or maybe she just hasn't warmed up to the idea of being a grandmother."
Rogue grabbed at his hand. "Don't touch my..." She froze when her bare skin came into full contact with his...but she felt nothing of the dreaded draining sensation.
"The cave," he answered her unspoken question, tilting his chin up to look at the rock formation that surrounded them. "We're under the same dampening field that allowed this..." Eric ignored her command and placed his hand on her rounded belly. "...to happen." His voice was cold as he continued, "Do you know how difficult that night was for me? Knowing what you were letting him do to you here? His hands on what's mine...what's always been mine. It was unbearable."
Rogue shook her head. "Yer nuts," she whispered. "An' Ah'm not yers. Never have been."
"But are you his? Rogue..." He took her chin in his bare grip. "What can he give you? Nothing, except maybe a stolen trinket or two. He can't give the physical pleasure that you deserve. You're so full of passion and life...he'll drain that all away from you. And while you're at home, darning his socks, he'll be out finding his own pleasure."
She jerked her head away from him. "Ya don' know him at all."
"I know him well enough to know that I'm far better for you." Eric took her hand. "If you return to me, Rogue, I can give you everything you deserve. Here, with me, you can touch others. You can be touched. With my technology, you'll be able to touch your baby." His smile was smug, knowing he'd hit a deep-seeded maternal instinct with that. Rogue immediately looked down at her lap with a little muffled cry. "Don't you want that, my dear? To be able to hold your baby, give it a bath, feed it from your own breasts. All the things normal mothers take for granted. I can give you all of that." He pressed a kiss into the center of her palm. "Just tell me...is that what you want?"
Rogue lifted her head, her emerald eyes brimming over with tears. "Yeah. That's what Ah want."
****
After three nights of sleeping by himself in the lonely double-bed of Xavier's boathouse, Remy was going stir-crazy. He woke up every morning with his arm thrown over his forehead, his entire body annoyingly stiff as he tried to ward off the remnants of his dreams. When the images of Rogue thrashing about underneath him wouldn't go away by sheer willpower, a cold shower was in order, allowing him to be presentable at the breakfast table.
Not that she was ever there; she preferred to take her meals alone in her room. She was isolating herself and everyone knew it, even if they didn't say anything out loud whenever Remy was within hearing distance. The wedding was still on; preparations hadn't stopped yet. But the bride and groom hadn't been seen together in days.
This was very much on Remy's mind as he stormed into the mansion on the morning of the fourth day, seventy-two hours before he was supposed to get married. The first thing he saw was Jubilee heading up the stairs with a tray of food in her hands.
"Petit," he called out to her. "You takin' dat to her?"
She carefully turned and nodded. "She's feelin' kind of tired. Again."
Remy climbed a few steps. "Let Gambit take it to her." He took the tray from her. "Merci."
Somehow, he managed to make it to her room and knock while balancing the tray on one hand. "C'mon in, Jubilee," she called out.
He stepped inside. "Room service, chere."
She was sitting upright in bed, flipping through a few of her bridal magazines with obvious disdain. Her head shot up upon hearing his voice instead of Jubilee's. "Gambit! Ah mean..."
"Dat be de second time you call me dat, chere." Remy set the tray down onto her dresser. "Now...I been patient. I give you de space you need. But Gambit no saint, ma belle. If dere somet'ing dat need to be said...you know we don' keep secrets no more. So, say it now."
Rogue licked her bottom lip, closed her magazine and tossed it aside. "All righ', sugah. Since ya brough' it up." She stood up, frustrated when she couldn't get it right on the first try. After heaving herself into a standing position, she put her hands on her hips. "See that? Ah'm so fat, Ah can't even barely get up anymore. See what ya did to me?"
He frowned. "Chere...w'at be wrong wit' you?"
"Ya wanna know?" She laughed. "Where should Ah start? Let's see. First off...ya knock me up 'cause ya couldn' keep your britches buttoned in the five minutes ya had when ya could touch me. Now ya claim to wanna marry me, but everyone knows those're vows ya just won' be able to keep. 'Cause look at yerself...yer a man born an' bred for sex. Remy Lebeau bein' celibate is like a cow not makin' milk. It just ain' in yer nature. So, all this is just leadin' up to ya breakin' my heart, Cajun boy, an' Ah'm not just gonna sit 'round an' let it happen...to me. Ah figure Ah'll cut it off at the pass."
Remy's next words were stone cold. "W'at you sayin'? You callin' off de weddin'?"
"For starters," she replied.
Silence cloaked the room for an indescribably long period of time. He couldn't make what she was saying go away, no matter how hard he tried to block it all out. He squeezed his eyes shut and balled up his fists. After a second, he released them and looked at her. "All Gambit ever want t'do is love you, ma belle. But now..." He stopped. "W'at's dat 'round your neck?"
Rogue looked down at the gold heart with the emerald center. "The only thing ya haven't had to steal for me."
Remy's mind raced. In his pocket, he could still feel the velvet box that held the necklace he'd bought for her on the day everything started to go downhill. He'd never had a chance to give it to her...but there it was, suspended from its delicate chain around her neck.
As smoothly as possible, Remy reached into his coat and withdrew the box. Part of him hoped he'd open it and find it was empty. But the other half wondered....
When he showed her the necklace that still lay within its velvet nest, the blood rushed from her face. Remy looked back up at her, deadly calm. "Who de fuck are you...an' w'ere is my bride?"
****
To Be Continued
A/N: I really don't know all that much about Rogue and Magento's relationship, except the barest details, and even less about Joseph. So, I just wrote this the way it came to me in my head, knowing what little I did know. Sorry if I didn't get things right:( I tried.
Kristen
Author's Notes: Thank ya'll, again, so much for the kind words. Your support means a lot. I hope you keep reading and enjoying, no matter what happens;)
****
Unexpected
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
"Whatever we deny or embrace
For worse or for better
We belong, we belong
We belong together."
-Pat Benatar
****
"Chere." Remy rapped lightly on the bathroom door. "You ever comin' out o' dere?" Upon receiving no reply, he knocked again. "Ma chere...everyt'ing all righ'? You been real quiet since dinner."
A moment later, she finally replied, "Ah'm fine, Gambit. Remy. Ah'm just tired. Ah think Ah'm gonna go to sleep."
He blinked. "In dere? Ma belle...sleep be a bit more comf'table in de bed." After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only twenty minutes after she'd disappeared into the bathroom, Rogue opened the door and stepped out, looking up at him with the green eyes he adored so much. "Come on, chere." He held out his hand to her.
"Actually...Ah was thinkin' Ah'd like to sleep by myself tonigh'. If ya don' mind."
Remy paused with his arm outstretched. "Chere?"
"Ah mean," Rogue continued, making her way over to the bed with one hand on her protruding stomach. "It ain' like we don' got our whole lives to sleep together, sugah."
"Oui." He lowered his arm. "'Course, chere. If dat be w'at you want...I sleep in de boathouse."
"That's what Ah want." She slid into bed and neatly arranged the covers around herself. "Close the door on yer way out."
Remy stood still for a second, looking extremely confused in his long-sleeved cotton shirt and navy blue pajama pants. Finally, he started to the door, but paused when his hand touched the brass knob. He glanced back at her. "Bonne nuit, ma belle."
Once in the hallway, he stopped to consider what had just happened. He'd been kicked out for the night. He frowned. It didn't feel good. Remy kicked the edge of the oriental carpet with his bare foot. So, she wanted a night alone. That certainly wasn't a crime. And she was right, they did have the rest of their lives to fall asleep and wake up together.
Still, something about it bothered him.
He'd intended to go straight to the boathouse, but he found himself walking the opposite direction, heading for Storm's bedroom. Along the short path, he sensed movement in the shadows created by the hallway's nooks and crannies. Squinting, he tried to identify the source of it. When he saw Bobby concealing himself in the darkness, he addressed him, "Dere be a game o' hide n' seek goin' on?"
The blond man paled, but stepped into the weak light of the moon that streamed in from one floor-to-ceiling window. "Um...of course not. I was just heading...downstairs. For a glass of...um...water, and I..."
A door a few feet down from where they stood opened, spilling bright yellow light into the hall. Kitty stepped out into it and looked around until she spotted them. "Bobby, you're late...oh, my god. Gambit!" She crossed her arms over her barely-there nightgown. "Um...hi."
Clearing his throat, Bobby gave the Cajun man a look. "Can you be discreet about this?"
Trying to keep from laughing, Remy raised both of his hands into the air. "Gambit be de sole o' tact, mes amis." Tipping an imaginary hat at them, he winked. "Have a *very* bonne nuit."
When Kitty's door closed, leaving him alone in the hallway, he continued on his path until he found himself standing in front of Storm's door. He knocked once, then twice, then three times. "Stormy? You be in dere?"
He raised his hand for a fourth knock, but the door suddenly opened a crack. He couldn't see all of her, but he could tell that she was still tying the sash on her robe as she spoke. "Remy? What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?"
"I know, chere. An' Gambit sorry." He hesitated. "It be 'bout Rogue."
Storm looked over her shoulder for a second. "All right. Come in."
As soon as he entered, he wanted to turn right back around and leave. Logan lounged in Storm's bed, propped up against the headboard in nothing but a pair of faded jeans with the top button undone. Remy shook his head, muttering an amused curse in French. "Dis be de horniest house in de state."
"No wonder you keep coming back here, bub." Logan scratched his ribs. "Wanna tells us why you're bargin' in like this?"
Storm closed the door. "Is something wrong with Rogue?"
"Dat be Gambit's question."
After he relayed the events that had led up to his appearance at Storm's door after midnight in his sleep clothes, Logan snorted. "That's it? She kicked you out of bed for one night, and it's the end of the world?"
Remy pointedly ignored him. "Has she talked t'you, chere? Said anyt'ing 'bout w'at she be feelin'?"
The weather goddess sat on the edge of her bed and primly crossed her legs. "I don't know, Remy."
"Sil vous plait."
"She's worried, Remy," Storm finally told him. "She loves you so much that she wants to give you everything. But she knows that she can't. And she's afraid you're throwing away your sexuality."
Remy cursed again, this time much more sharply. "How many time do Gambit have t'tell dat femme dat he don' care 'bout de sex?!"
Logan gave him a thorough look. "Yeah, right."
"Hey!" Storm stood up to keep Remy from charging her lover. "Stop it. Both of you."
The Cajun man's eyes flashed dangerously. "W'at more can Gambit do?"
"She's asked for some space tonight." She put a sympathetic hand on his broad shoulder. "If that's all she needs, just give to her. We all will...until she's ready. Okay?"
He sighed, scrubbed both palms down his face, and nodded. "Oui." After a second, he took Storm's hand and brought the back of it up to his lips. "Merci, chere."
"Anytime, Remy," she called out as he headed for the door. "Goodnight...it'll all work out. You'll see." When the door closed behind him, Storm turned and glared at Logan.
"What?" he asked, as innocent as he could get.
"You know what."
He swung his legs over the side of the bed. "He's your friend, darlin', not mine."
"Regardless, you don't have to egg him on. Rogue loves him. If you can't go easy on him for my sake, will you at least do it for hers?"
"Depends." Logan stood up and advanced on her. "What's in it for me?" She had no chance to reply; his mouth had already found the notch at the base of her throat, and his hands were tangled in her hair. She was just about to give in to the delicious sensation, when he stopped and lifted his head.
"What's wrong?"
He sniffed the air. "Don't know." Sniffing again, he said, "Thought I smelled something..."
"I borrowed a perfume from Jean." Storm shook her head and looked away. "Trust you to pick up on that."
"It's not you. Must've been somethin' on the Cajun." He rotated his shoulders. "Weird." His attention returned to her. "Where was I?"
Storm forgot about their fight entirely when he picked her up and carried her back to the bed. Nothing more was said about Remy or Rogue or anyone else for the rest of the night.
****
The first thing she felt was cold. Frowning, Rogue rolled to her other side, fully expecting to come up against the solid warmth of Remy's body in the bed next to her. But all she encountered was more empty space. She opened one eye. Instead of her pillows, nightstand and flowered wallpaper, she saw nothing but grey rocks. "Where am Ah?"
"You're safe. And you're amongst friends," a man replied. "Not many of our kind can say the same."
She recognized the evangelical words before she even picked up on the voice. Rogue blinked several times. "Still preachin' to the choir, sugah?"
The man called Magento stepped out from the shadows, his cape sweeping the ground with each step. "Are you back in the choir, my dear? At last check, your loyalties were still misplaced with Charles and his do-gooders."
"My loyalties lie with people who deserve 'em." She struggled to sit up and see over her stomach. "With my friends."
He let it go for the moment. "Look at you. You're radiant." His voice grew hard. "Even carrying that bastard's bastard."
Rogue's eyes narrowed into thin slits. "Speakin' 'bout bastards, what do ya want with me?"
"Didn't your mother tell you? I only want to talk to you."
"Mystique ain' my momma."
Eric lifted his shoulders. "Semantics, Rogue. Only semantics." He knelt down a few feet away from her. "You turned your back on her. And I think it actually hurt her."
"Should Ah care?"
"That's between you and Mystique." He considered her from a distance. "I suppose you're wondering why I've gone to so much trouble just to talk to you."
"Ye've always liked the dramatics."
"Seeing you at your Gambit's trial..." The older man pressed the tips of his fingers together. "I realized something."
"That yer a heartless excuse for a man?"
The corners of his mouth turned up wryly. "I want you back with me, Rogue."
She stared at him, slack-jawed. "It's finally happened, sugah. All those years of messin' with everyone else's heads...an' all that crazy power ya got goin'...it's finally driven ya crazy."
"I had a feeling you'd say something like that."
"What did ya 'spect me to say?! After what ya did to me and Remy...what ya made me do to him?!" Rogue raised herself up on tightly balled fists. "Did ya think Ah'd just shake my head an' go, 'that silly, sentimental Magneto...he's just nutty like that...an' Ah can' wait to get back to doin' his dirty work'?!?" The baby kicked in protest of all the adrenaline rushing through her system. "Ah hate ya," she spat at him.
Eric stood, almost sadly. "There was a time when you didn't."
"There was a time when Ah hated the rest o' the world so much that ya seemed okay in comparison," she corrected him. "Now...here's what yer gonna do. Yer gonna let me go 'fore every X-Man who's able comes here lookin' for me. An' ya know they will...'specially that 'bastard' as ya call him."
"No, they won't." He shook his head. "They really, really won't."
Some of the bravado left her voice. "An' why's that?"
"Because." He knelt again, only this time directly next to her on the blanket she'd been laid upon while she slept. "They have no idea that you're missing, my dear. Mystique is taking your place for a little while. But don't worry. She doesn't have any designs on your Cajun. In fact, she's not too thrilled with what he's done to you." Eric reached out to touch her stomach. "Or maybe she just hasn't warmed up to the idea of being a grandmother."
Rogue grabbed at his hand. "Don't touch my..." She froze when her bare skin came into full contact with his...but she felt nothing of the dreaded draining sensation.
"The cave," he answered her unspoken question, tilting his chin up to look at the rock formation that surrounded them. "We're under the same dampening field that allowed this..." Eric ignored her command and placed his hand on her rounded belly. "...to happen." His voice was cold as he continued, "Do you know how difficult that night was for me? Knowing what you were letting him do to you here? His hands on what's mine...what's always been mine. It was unbearable."
Rogue shook her head. "Yer nuts," she whispered. "An' Ah'm not yers. Never have been."
"But are you his? Rogue..." He took her chin in his bare grip. "What can he give you? Nothing, except maybe a stolen trinket or two. He can't give the physical pleasure that you deserve. You're so full of passion and life...he'll drain that all away from you. And while you're at home, darning his socks, he'll be out finding his own pleasure."
She jerked her head away from him. "Ya don' know him at all."
"I know him well enough to know that I'm far better for you." Eric took her hand. "If you return to me, Rogue, I can give you everything you deserve. Here, with me, you can touch others. You can be touched. With my technology, you'll be able to touch your baby." His smile was smug, knowing he'd hit a deep-seeded maternal instinct with that. Rogue immediately looked down at her lap with a little muffled cry. "Don't you want that, my dear? To be able to hold your baby, give it a bath, feed it from your own breasts. All the things normal mothers take for granted. I can give you all of that." He pressed a kiss into the center of her palm. "Just tell me...is that what you want?"
Rogue lifted her head, her emerald eyes brimming over with tears. "Yeah. That's what Ah want."
****
After three nights of sleeping by himself in the lonely double-bed of Xavier's boathouse, Remy was going stir-crazy. He woke up every morning with his arm thrown over his forehead, his entire body annoyingly stiff as he tried to ward off the remnants of his dreams. When the images of Rogue thrashing about underneath him wouldn't go away by sheer willpower, a cold shower was in order, allowing him to be presentable at the breakfast table.
Not that she was ever there; she preferred to take her meals alone in her room. She was isolating herself and everyone knew it, even if they didn't say anything out loud whenever Remy was within hearing distance. The wedding was still on; preparations hadn't stopped yet. But the bride and groom hadn't been seen together in days.
This was very much on Remy's mind as he stormed into the mansion on the morning of the fourth day, seventy-two hours before he was supposed to get married. The first thing he saw was Jubilee heading up the stairs with a tray of food in her hands.
"Petit," he called out to her. "You takin' dat to her?"
She carefully turned and nodded. "She's feelin' kind of tired. Again."
Remy climbed a few steps. "Let Gambit take it to her." He took the tray from her. "Merci."
Somehow, he managed to make it to her room and knock while balancing the tray on one hand. "C'mon in, Jubilee," she called out.
He stepped inside. "Room service, chere."
She was sitting upright in bed, flipping through a few of her bridal magazines with obvious disdain. Her head shot up upon hearing his voice instead of Jubilee's. "Gambit! Ah mean..."
"Dat be de second time you call me dat, chere." Remy set the tray down onto her dresser. "Now...I been patient. I give you de space you need. But Gambit no saint, ma belle. If dere somet'ing dat need to be said...you know we don' keep secrets no more. So, say it now."
Rogue licked her bottom lip, closed her magazine and tossed it aside. "All righ', sugah. Since ya brough' it up." She stood up, frustrated when she couldn't get it right on the first try. After heaving herself into a standing position, she put her hands on her hips. "See that? Ah'm so fat, Ah can't even barely get up anymore. See what ya did to me?"
He frowned. "Chere...w'at be wrong wit' you?"
"Ya wanna know?" She laughed. "Where should Ah start? Let's see. First off...ya knock me up 'cause ya couldn' keep your britches buttoned in the five minutes ya had when ya could touch me. Now ya claim to wanna marry me, but everyone knows those're vows ya just won' be able to keep. 'Cause look at yerself...yer a man born an' bred for sex. Remy Lebeau bein' celibate is like a cow not makin' milk. It just ain' in yer nature. So, all this is just leadin' up to ya breakin' my heart, Cajun boy, an' Ah'm not just gonna sit 'round an' let it happen...to me. Ah figure Ah'll cut it off at the pass."
Remy's next words were stone cold. "W'at you sayin'? You callin' off de weddin'?"
"For starters," she replied.
Silence cloaked the room for an indescribably long period of time. He couldn't make what she was saying go away, no matter how hard he tried to block it all out. He squeezed his eyes shut and balled up his fists. After a second, he released them and looked at her. "All Gambit ever want t'do is love you, ma belle. But now..." He stopped. "W'at's dat 'round your neck?"
Rogue looked down at the gold heart with the emerald center. "The only thing ya haven't had to steal for me."
Remy's mind raced. In his pocket, he could still feel the velvet box that held the necklace he'd bought for her on the day everything started to go downhill. He'd never had a chance to give it to her...but there it was, suspended from its delicate chain around her neck.
As smoothly as possible, Remy reached into his coat and withdrew the box. Part of him hoped he'd open it and find it was empty. But the other half wondered....
When he showed her the necklace that still lay within its velvet nest, the blood rushed from her face. Remy looked back up at her, deadly calm. "Who de fuck are you...an' w'ere is my bride?"
****
To Be Continued
A/N: I really don't know all that much about Rogue and Magento's relationship, except the barest details, and even less about Joseph. So, I just wrote this the way it came to me in my head, knowing what little I did know. Sorry if I didn't get things right:( I tried.
Kristen
