Disclaimer: Characters not mine, yada, yada, yada. You know the drill.

Author's Notes: More big thanks for the reviews;) A question came up about Madeline's name being so similar to Madelyne, Scott's ex-wife. I wasn't even thinking about that when I came up with it, so that's why there was no reaction from Jean in the delivery room. But honestly, I'd imagine that Jean's a big enough person to know that sometimes a name is just a name, and a pretty, French name at that;) Enjoy this next chapter!

****

Unexpected

by Kristen Elizabeth

****

But she wants everything,

He can pretend to give her everything .

Or there's nothing she wants,

She don't want to sort it out.

He's crazy for this girl,

But she don't know what she's looking for.

If she knew what she wants, he'd be giving it to her.

Giving it to her."

-The Bangles

****

"Madeline." Jubilee peered through the plastic at the impossibly tiny baby sleeping on her stomach within the warm confines of the incubator. "I think her name might be longer than she is." The girl straightened up. "But she's beautiful, Rogue, really."

The older woman smiled weakly. "Thanks, sugah."

"I wonder if she'll have red hair. Both you and Remy do," Jubilee mused. "Oh, and her eyes! I bet they'll be green like yours."

"Don' know 'bout that," Rogue said, taking a small sip of water from the cup next to her bed. "Red and green combined make brown, don' they?"

Hank entered carrying a clipboard chart. "I'm not entirely certain genetics work that way," he answered. "But I suppose that it's not out of the realm of possibility." He looked at Jubilee. "Could I have a moment alone with Rogue, my dear?"

"'Course." She gave Rogue her brightest smile. "I'll be back. You know I can't resist babies."

Rogue inclined her head. "Bye." Once the girl left the infirmary, she took a breath. "Is somethin' wrong, Hank?"

"Not exactly." He approached her bed. "Where is our proud father?"

"Ah finally convinced him to go take a shower," she replied. "He was startin' to smell."

The doctor chuckled. "Actually, this is something we can discuss without him." He paused.

"It's all righ', sugah," Rogue prompted. "Ya've cut into me an' pulled out a baby. There really ain' no secrets between us anymore."

He nodded. "The subject is breast-feeding."

Her smile immediately disappeared. "Ah can't do it."

"Not as such, no," Hank quietly replied. "But Madeline still needs it. She won't be able to take a bottle for at least another couple of weeks, but I can put in a tube through her...well, through her stomach and feed her with milk you've expressed."

"Expressed?"

"Pumped."

"Oh." She lifted one shoulder, and winced when she felt the simple motion all the way down to her belly. Three days after the birth and there still weren't enough pain meds in the infirmary to make her feel normal. "Ah like the way ya put it first."

Hank set down his clipboard and studied her. "Are you ready to do this?"

"Is de femme ready t'do w'at?" Remy entered the lab, bringing with him the clean scents of soap and shampoo. His hair was dark with water and pulled into a short ponytail at the back of his neck. Rogue cleared her throat. It wasn't healthy to dwell too much on how good he looked fresh out of his shower.

"Rogue and I were just discussing breast-feeding," Hank replied. "Madeline's progress will increase by leaps and bounds with the nutrition designed specifically for her by Rogue's body."

The woman in the bed shook her head. "We keep comin' back to this body thing. Ain' ya'll learned yet? Ya can't trust my body with anythin'!"

"It's a simple enough task to express milk, Rogue."

Remy was already at the incubator, kneeling down and watching Madeline as she slept. "If it good for ma Madeline, dere be no question, oui?"

"What if..." Rogue looked down at her gloved hands, fidgeting. "What if...my milk is just like...a part o' my body. An' touchin' it...drinkin' it...will hurt her? Ah can't..." She bit back a sob. "Ah can't hurt her."

"I would highly doubt that scenario, my dear. But if you're worried, I can perform some tests before I give it to her."

Rogue glanced over at Remy. "Ah wanna be able to do this for her, Ah do."

"Den do it, chere." He gave her a private smile. "Jus' don' kick me out w'en you do. Give dis Caj'n somet'ing t'dream 'bout."

A tiny smile cracked through her worry. "Pervert."

"Sometime," he shot back, carelessly.

She drew in a slow breath and released it even slower. "Ah'll do it. So long as ya perform those tests, 'kay?" The doctor nodded. "All right. What do Ah do?"

"First of all," Hank opened the top of the incubator. "There's something you haven't done yet." He reached inside, gently freed Madeline from the myriad of tubes and monitors to which she was hooked up, and lifted her up and out. "It's been three days, Rogue. It's time for you to hold your baby."

Almost instantly, her face became whiter than the sheet tucked around her waist. "No. Ah can't...Ah..." She looked around for some sort of delay. But her arms were gloved up to her elbows and the sleeves of her hospital gown covered the rest. "Ah...can't. Ah'm..." She decided to go with the truth, plain and simple. "...scared."

"Chere." Remy bent his head, getting as close to her ear as he could. "She need you."

It took a moment, but Rogue finally relaxed and nodded. "Ah've...been wantin' to," she admitted in the smallest voice that nearly broke his heart. "Ah just didn' think Ah should hope for somethin' so good, ya know?"

Hank's only reply was to approach with the baby. "Hold out your arms." When she did so, they shook. "Just relax. It's going to be okay." After Rogue nodded, Hank carefully transferred the tiny baby into the crook of her mother's arm. "There you go." He stepped away, to give them some time.

Rogue didn't notice. All she felt was the delicate two pounds of her daughter, warm and alive even through the protective Lycra and cotton. Madeline's tiny eyes were closed, but they, like the rest of her face, were perfectly formed. Her lips promised to be full some day, her nose dipped and turned up in a fluid curve. And, as she stared even harder, she could just see the beginning wisps of auburn hair on the baby's head. "Oh god," she whispered, a tear escaping and cascading down her cheek. "She *is* beautiful."

"We make good t'ings toget'er, ma belle," Remy said. "Gambit always know dat."

She sniffed and smiled. "Hi, baby-girl. My baby-girl. Ah'm Momma. An' that's Daddy, righ' there." She nodded towards her fiancé .

"Papa," he corrected her.

"Pain in the ass," Rogue corrected his correction. "But only Ah get to call him that." She paused, biting her lip and tasting salt. "Ah know Ah can't be a really great momma, baby. Ah won' be able to hug ya whenever Ah want or...brush yer hair or help ya put make-up on. Stuff like that. But Ah promise ya.." Her vision clouded over. "Ah love ya...an' Ah'll never stop. Never. 'Til Ah die, an' maybe even after, Ah'll be the best momma Ah can be." Remy pressed a kiss into her hair, swallowing heavily. "Remy," she addressed him.

"Chere?" The word was muffled by her curly locks.

"Tell me...tell me what she feels like." He pulled back to look at her. Rogue continued, "Ah just...wanna know...if she's as soft as Ah think she is." Hesitantly, as though she were reaching for something hot, Rogue ran a gloved finger down Madeline's cheek.

"She feel like...de underside o' de magnolia petal," Remy told her. "De only ot'er t'ing I ever feel like it be you." He let his hand drift up her side to cup her full breast through her cotton gown. "Righ' here."

To counteract the very upsetting shiver that ran down her spine, she frowned at him. "Not in front o' the baby, swamp rat."

He reluctantly released her and sighed. "It like we already married, chere." There was a pause. "W'ile we talkin' 'bout dis…"

Rogue met his gaze. "Ah know what yer gonna say. Today's supposed to be our weddin' day. But Remy…"

"Shh, chere." He put a finger as close to her lips as he could. "Everyt'ing able t'wait for anot'er day. Gambit take care o' it all."

She nodded, and looked away before he could see through her in the uncanny way that only he could. Somehow, she was convinced, he'd figure it out sooner or later. Erik's words in the cave were still with her. His horrible predictions for their future together…she couldn't stop thinking about them. Remy wanted to marry her, he wanted to be a father to Madeline and a husband to her…but would it always be enough for him? Was it enough for her, to live in a sexless marriage? Or would living together be like holding a piece of chocolate out to a child, but not letting him have it? Tempting, taunting, torture.

Madeline's early arrival was definitely reason enough to postpone the wedding. But in the very back of her mind, Rogue couldn't help but wonder if it was the only reason.

****

Storm would never again take the ability to speak for granted. Off the respirator and back in her own room, her recovery was progressing steadily. In fact, it seemed that being unable to talk for three days had worked to her advantage in a twisted, round about way.

The thing she'd wanted for weeks, the unquestionable knowledge that Logan cared about her, she'd gotten it. But there was still something within her that ached and it wasn't just her surgical scars. Yes, he cared about her. But he also cared about Jubilee. And Rogue. And Jean. Especially Jean.

What made her different, if she was different at all? She was the only one he'd taken to his bed, at least as far as she knew. But it wasn't any secret that he'd wanted Jean there. And while that desire seemed to have cooled into a comfortable friendship, how was she to know if that's really how he felt at the center of his heart? He kept his emotions hidden from the naked eye with a sneer and a flash of adamantium. It was the hardest thing she'd ever done, loving the Wolverine.

Speak of the devil and it comes. There was a knock on her door and he entered, carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming soup and a squiggling plate of green Jello. "You're awake," he said, closing the door.

"Just for a moment," she replied, her voice still hoarse from the respirator tube.

"Hungry?"

Storm shook her head. "Maybe later." Logan set the tray down on a little table that had been set up by her bed, and folded his arms awkwardly across his broad chest. After a few seconds of lingering silence, she asked, "How are Rogue and Remy doing?"

"Fine, I guess," he replied, glancing down at his heavy boots. "I just saw 'em down in the lab when I was gettin' the okay on this food from Hank. They were talkin' somethin' about…breast milk." He shook his head. "I didn't stick around."

Although it hurt, Storm couldn't help but laugh. "I can't blame you. But it is good that they are moving into the everyday adventures of parenting." Another second passed. "You can sit down."

He hesitated before precariously perching himself on the very edge of her bed. "Listen, Ro…about what I said the day you woke up…"

She cut him off. "It's all right, Logan."

His thick brow pulled into a frown. "It is?"

"I care about you, too, as I care for any member of this team…this family. And I don't expect anything but that mutual affection and respect from you."

"You don't."

Storm forced a smile for his benefit. "No. I don't. So, don't worry about me. I haven't gone and fallen in love with you."

"I see." He nodded and stood up. "Well. That's good, darlin'. For your sake. No one's ever been safe lovin' me."

Something in his voice made her want to breakdown, throw her arms around him and tell him that she did love him, and that she didn't care if it was safe or right or reciprocated. But she kept her eyes down as he walked back to the door.

When he reached it, he paused and spoke without looking back. "You left a couple things in my room. I'll get 'em back to you." Logan twisted the knob, yanking the door open hard and fast. "Take it easy. Hank'll be up to check on you."

The door slammed behind him, leaving Storm alone with her thoughts and tears. Just when had she gone and fallen in love with him, anyway? And now, how was she supposed to go on, knowing he could never feel the same?

****

The machine was odd and made her feel rather like a cow at a dairy plant, but after a week of expressing milk several times a day for her daughter, Rogue had gotten quite comfortable with the process. And Madeline, much to everyone's delight, had gained several ounces after Hank began giving it to her through the gastric tube. Someday soon, she'd be able to take a bottle that Rogue would be able to give to her. And then, she'd really be able to feed her baby.

Right now, as she finished up with the pump, Madeline was awake in her incubator, blinking as she looked around at her fuzzy, white, plastic world. Her eyes were newborn dark-blue, but the area around each iris was white.

She smiled sadly recalling how Remy had nearly doubled over in relief when Madeline finally opened her eyes and allowed them a glimpse. Rogue hadn't realized until that moment how much he'd been afraid that his eyes, his own little curse to bear, might be passed on to their daughter. Truthfully, she hadn't cared if Madeline's eyes ended up being red in black or green in black or anything in black. She loved Remy's eyes the way they were, and if their child's had turned out the same, it would have been fine with her.

Rogue set aside the half-full bottle of milk and approached the incubator. Lying on her back, her daughter looked up. It was easy to imagine that the little girl saw her standing over her, but she knew that Madeline could only see a few inches and even those inches were blurred. After ensuring that her gloves were securely in place, Rogue reached into the incubator like Hank had shown her and picked the baby up.

Madeline gave no protest. Even if she had been upset by the change in temperature, her little lungs were still struggling to give voice to her cries. The best she could do was some mewling whimpers when her diaper needed to be changed. Rogue cradled her daughter in the crook of her arm and tucked a soft, pink blanket around her. "Mornin', baby-girl," she crooned softly. Madeline blinked. "It's just me today, precious…Daddy's still sleepin' upstairs. Ah snuck down to see ya."

Rogue eased into the rocking chair; the evidence of her C-section healed more and more every day, aided considerably by her own immeasurable physical strength, but it still hurt. "Ah got breakfast ready for ya. We just gotta wait 'til Hank gets his hairy butt down here."

She watched Madeline watch her for a long moment. "Ah still can't figure out how Ah helped make somethin' so perfect," she confided. "Ya are, ya know? Perfect." With her gloved fingers, she un-tucked the blanket enough to see Madeline's tiny feet. "Ya got ten toes…an' ten fingers." Rogue lightly tickled the bottom of one foot, making Madeline kick in reaction. "An' Ah don' 'spect there's been a baby ever who's prettier. Don' tell your Daddy this, but Ah think yer gonna be a heartbreaker." She smiled. "He'll lock ya up in a tower an' throw away the key."

Rogue rested her head against the pillow Remy had tied to the back of the hard, wood chair. A content minute passed between mother and daughter. So content, in fact, that for the first time in years, Rogue felt almost normal. Just like any other mother who happened to have a premature baby, she was rocking and talking to her baby, marveling at the miracle that had come out of her body.

When Madeline closed her eyes to go back to sleep, Rogue let herself, as well. Her usual strength and vitality hadn't entirely returned to her yet, as her body was still pouchy and loose from the pregnancy, not to mention cut up and sewn back together.

She dozed for maybe ten minutes before coming around. Smiling, Rogue looked down at Madeline. Instantly, she knew something was wrong. Instead of the warm pink color that her baby had grown into since her birth, her skin had taken on a dangerous shade of blue. And in the few seconds Rogue spent studying her, she realized something even more frightening. Madeline was no longer breathing.

"Oh god!!" Rogue stood up, panicked. Still holding her still body, she examined her arms, searching for any exposed area of skin that might have touched her daughter. Her fear overtook everything. "Help!!" she screamed as loudly as she could. "Help me…please!!!"

She slipped to her knees, clutching Madeline to her chest and rocking her ever so slightly. "Wake up, baby-girl…please…please don't leave me…Ah'm sorry…Ah'm so sorry…"

Hank skidded into the room a few minutes later, having heard her cries as he stepped off the elevator into the sub-basement, on his way to check on them. He wasted no time running over to her and pulling on her shoulders. "Rogue…Rogue sit up. I need to see Madeline."

Her eyes were painfully red and soaked with a thousand tears, but she uncurled her body and let him take her baby. "She…she's not…Ah didn't touch her, Ah swear. Ah don' know…" Rogue shook her head.

Hank laid Madeline onto an exam table. Biting the inside of his cheek, he took a gamble and gently began to rub the tiny baby's back.

Just then, Remy burst into the lab wearing nothing but boxers and an untied white robe. "W'at goin' on? Somet'ing told me t'get down here an'…" He stopped upon seeing Rogue sitting on the floor, crying, and Hank trying to urge life back into his daughter. "Non…non." He shook his head, refusing to acknowledge what was going on. "Mon Dieu…non…sil vous plait…"

"Ah'm sorry," Rogue repeated through her sobs. "Ah didn't…Ah just wanted…t'hold her…"

"It's all right," Hank said to them a moment later. "Look." As he continued to rub, Madeline gave a choked cough, opened her mouth and began to scream. "Her color's coming back…she's breathing." He smiled. "She's crying. She's fine."

Remy ran both hands down his face. "W'at happened, mon ami?"

"If I had to make a guess, I'd say Madeline has apnea." He raised his voice to be heard over Madeline's cries. "A very common thing for a premature baby. Because her brain isn't completely developed yet, it temporarily forgot to send the message to her lungs to keep working. But it's all right, as you can see. Just a little bit of patting, and it all comes back to her. Now that I know, medications can help prevent it from happening again."

Rogue shook her head. "It was me…Ah hurt her…Ah hurt everyone."

"No, Rogue," Hank said firmly. "It was not you. This is a condition that most premature babies face. Honestly, I should have been looking for it. My oversight caused this panic, and I do apologize. But she's fine, and more than that, she's crying now."

Remy's smile returned. "Listen t'her, chere. She have your lungs."

"Ah made my baby cry," she said quietly.

"Dat a good t'ing," Remy assured her.

"Rogue." The blue doctor picked up Madeline as Remy gently tugged Rogue to her feet. "Look at your baby. She's fine, and getting better by the day. We had one, unexpected complication, but now that it's passed…" He offered the baby to her.

If her back hadn't been pressed against Remy's chest, she would have jumped back. As it was, she shook her head vigorously against him. "No…Ah can't."

"Take her, ma belle," her fiancé urged. "You got t'know dat you can. Everyt'ing not your fault."

Rogue broke away from him, fleeing to a safe distance. "Ah pumped enough milk for the day," she said, wiping at her wet cheeks. "Tell me when ya need more."

"Rogue," Hank began.

At the same time, Remy started, "Chere…"

"Ah can't!!" she screamed, the cry rivaling Madeline's. "Ah can't take her…Ah can't hold her. Ah can't be that normal momma she needs!!" Rogue backed up a few more steps.

Hank looked down at the baby. "Where are you going?"

"Away," she told him. "Just…keep me away from her. For her own good."

Remy cursed when she ran out of the infirmary. "Gambit be righ' back, mon ami." He ran after her, his bare feet slapping against the cold metal floor.

He caught up with her in front of the elevator doors. She was waiting for the doors to open, her face buried in her hands. "Don' do dis, chere," he said as he came up behind her. "You regret it…rest o' your life."

"Ah think Ah'd regret killin' my baby a 'lil bit more," was her muffled reply.

"Madeline be fine now," Remy thundered. He hated raising his voice to her, but he couldn't help it. They'd come so far, yet now it seemed they were right back at square one. After taking a breath, he placed his hands on her slender, shaking shoulders. "You didn' hurt her, ma chere." Rogue shook her head. A moment passed. "Dere not supposed to be nothin' but happiness for us from now on. Remember?"

"Remy." She lifted her head; her gloves were soaked with her tears. Turning her head, she looked at him. "We don' get happiness, sugah. It ain' in our cards."

It took a long time for him to answer. "Gambit don' believe dat, chere."

"Believe it." The elevator doors slid open. Rogue turned around and stepped inside. With quick, decisive motions, she slipped the diamond ring off her gloved finger and held it out to him. "Ah can't marry ya. Ah can't pretend Ah'm normal anymore."

"Gambit startin' t'hate dat word," he said in a voice she'd never heard before. "Normal."

"It's somethin' ya deserve. Somethin' she deserves."

Remy looked at her, his expression blank. "Dat's your ring. Gambit won' take it back."

The doors began to move. Rogue closed her trembling fingers around the diamond. "Ah'm sorry, Remy." After she pulled her arm back towards her chest, the elevator shut and lifted, separating them by more than just distance.

****

The Professor woke up with the heaviest sense of grief pressing on his chest. He sat up in bed, and brushed away an impending tear. It always hurt him the most when members of his family were in pain.

****

To Be Continued