Disclaimer: Characters are sooo not mine.
Author's Notes: More thanks are in order for all the reviews. I appreciate the kind words very much. Angst and drama are so much fun, aren't they? But they must come to an end...eventually;) Enjoy...
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Unexpected
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
The bar, a slightly seedy roadhouse only two miles away from the mansion, was a favorite for the men of the X-Men. If something was bothering one of them that the Danger Room couldn't take care of, they could inevitably be found there, nursing a beer or something stronger.
When Logan entered the joint two weeks after Storm had single-handedly pulled herself out of his life, he wasn't entirely surprised to find another member of the team sitting at the end of the bar, staring at a full shot glass of amber liquid. Shaking his head, Logan started towards him.
"Gumbo," he addressed the man. "Drinkin' before noon?"
"Don' see how it your business," Remy replied tersely. He picked up the little glass and drained it without so much as a wince. "Anot'er," he told the man behind the bar.
As the bartender refilled the glass with Jim Beam, Logan sat in the stool next to him. "The same," he ordered.
They sat in silence for a long time, Remy sipping at his fifth shot and Logan downing his first and signaling for a second.
"We make one sad pair, mon ami," the Cajun man chuckled bitterly. "Suppose dat's w'at we get...lovin' de strongest femmes in de world." Logan made a non-committal grunt in reply. "Least you be knowin' dat yours love you back."
The small amount of alcohol shouldn't have even started to affect his impenetrable system, but the other man actually answered with a very quiet, very sad, "She doesn't love me."
"You be jokin' wit' dis Caj'n?" Remy shook his head. "Stormy love you for years. Don' need no special gift t'be seein' dat." Because there was enough alcohol rushing through his veins, he continued, "Maybe you don' see it...only havin' eyes for de one femme you can't ever have."
Logan slammed his glass onto the bar. "Keep your trap shut 'bout things you don't know."
"But Gambit do know dis, mon ami. You t'ink you ever been subtle 'bout it? Don' nobody t'ink you love Mrs. Summers no more, but dere was a time..." He finished his shot. "An' all dat time, ma Storm love you. God himself know why." Remy caught the bartender's eye and pointed to his empty glass.
Logan held up his hand, cutting the other man off. "You gonna drag your ass home drunk *and* bruised? Hank won't let you anywhere near your daughter."
This proved better than a quart of coffee at almost instantly sobering Remy up. "Ma Madeline already lost her mamán." He waved away the bartender when the man reached to refill his glass, despite Logan's intervention. "Gambit not much o' a papa, but she need me."
"Rogue's still not come around?"
The question hung in the air until Remy jerked his head slightly. "She give our bébé milk an' not'ing else."
Logan raised his third shot to his lips. "And...the weddin'?"
"Why you care?" Remy's eyes flashed as he turned them onto the shorter man. "It be no secret dat you don' like dis Caj'n."
"I *don't* care," Logan assured him, kicking back the liquor. "But I also don't figure One-Eye should be the only one of us who gets his gal."
"Dat some powerful grudge you be holdin', mon ami."
The other man winced as the heat of the cheap whiskey burned a path to his stomach. "Not so much anymore. Just can't let him know it," he said. "But Jeannie knows. It ain't like she expected me to pine after her forever."
"Maybe dis be somet'ing you should be tellin' Stormy?" Remy suggested.
Logan's brow pulled into a scowl. "She should know."
"How could she, if you don' be..."
"Remy? Remy LeBeau?" Both men turned their heads to see the curvy brunette approaching them with a wide smile on her painted lips. "Well, well. What's it been? A million years?" She pouted prettily. "I haven't seen you since that night that we...you know."
He didn't have to think hard to remember the night to which she referred; contrary to popular belief, there hadn't been many of them since he'd fallen in love with Rogue. But this one had been after a particularly nasty fight. He'd come to the bar, gotten rip-roaring drunk and met up with...
"Laura." Remy shook his head as she slid into the empty chair on his other side. "Sometime I wonder if I be punished for de sins o' dis life...or dis life *an'* anot'er."
She slipped her arm through his. "Are you going to introduce me to your friend?"
Logan looked at him. "Think I got it, Gumbo. Laura. One-night stand." He took a sip from his refreshed drink. "So much for not carin' about sex."
"Dere a lot 'bout dat nigh' dat I don' recall. But I do know dat I didn'...you know."
The woman's hard blue eyes smoldered. "Everything but, honey." She hooked her arm through his. "Of course...if you want to rectify that...I'm available anytime."
"I'm sure you are," Logan snorted. "Wonder what Rogue'll have to say about this."
"Who's Rogue?" Laura asked, clinging to Remy a bit harder.
Remy paused for a long minute as he contemplated that simple question. Who was Rogue? Was she just the last in a long line of women who'd come in and out of his life, making living it both a pleasure and a misery? Was she just the mother of his child? Or was she more...the only woman he'd ever loved with his adult heart, free and clear of any obligations or outside influences...the woman he saw himself growing old and wrinkled with...the woman he wanted with every cell in his body, but whom he'd be quite content to only touch through the safety of material barriers until the day he died? Maybe she was all of the above, everything...everything good he had in his life.
It only took one glance at the woman cuddling up to him for him to realize that this was not what he wanted. Yes, it would be very easy to take Laura up on her offer, to give himself what he'd loved since he was a gangly fourteen year-old boy lying spent in the supple arms of a much older woman in the heat of a French Quarter loft. But his heart wouldn't be in it. His heart would never be in it again if it wasn't Rogue's arms around his neck, Rogue's warm breath against his ear, Rogue's fingers tangled in his hair. And if she couldn't see that...well, he wasn't about to follow Logan's example and just assume that she'd figure it out on her own eventually. He'd tell her, he'd scream it as loud and as long as he had to until she believed him. Whatever it took, he'd make her know that he loved her, unconditionally.
He'd never backed down from a challenge he knew he could overcome; it wasn't his style. He was willing to do anything it took, even if that meant playing dirty, or underhanded or unconventionally. But he liked winning. In the gambit of his life, Remy always tried to come out on top. He wasn't about to start losing everything he'd ever wanted, just when he finally got it.
"Rogue be de mamán o' my bébé," he told the voluptuous woman, prying her away from his side. "An' de only woman I be available for."
Laura blinked, as though she couldn't understand him. "You got married?"
Remy gritted his teeth. "Not quite yet, petit."
"Then..." Her lips curved up. "What's the problem?"
"The problem is this, darlin'." Logan set his glass down with a dangerous smile. "The Cajun's got himself enough problems without addin' your name to the list. So, go play somewhere else. Ain't nobody interested here."
The woman shook her head after a long second of staring at the two men. "Your loss." She slid off the bar stool and stalked off with a flounce of her hair and a dirty look.
Remy signaled to the bartender again, but this time for the tab he'd racked up. "Got t'get back," he mumbled. "Got t'see my girls."
"Not like this, you don't." Logan snatched the bill away from him and pulled out his wallet. "I'll get this. You go dunk that ugly head of yours in the bathroom sink a couple of times, and then we're gonna figure out a way to get Rogue to marry you."
"Why you helpin' Gambit, mon ami?"
The other man tossed down enough money to cover their tab. "'Cause. You're gonna help me."
Remy lifted an eyebrow and stumbled a bit as he tried to stand. "I am? Wit' w'at?"
"Ro." He replaced his wallet in his back pocket. "You know her better than anyone. And you're gonna tell me what I need to do to get her back."
The Cajun man grinned, still loopy from the excessive amount of whiskey he'd downed. "Dat make us partners, you know dis?"
"Temporarily," Logan assured him. "I just don't like comin' into my bar and seein' you slobberin' all over it."
Before he could stop him, Remy slung an arm around his shoulders. "Admit it, mon ami. We make a good team, oui? You know...ma chere...she want t'make you godfat'er to ma Madeline. Gambit t'ink it be a good idea. Dere nobody can keep her safe as you." The alcohol had hit him fully now, making him tear up. "If somet'ing happen t'me...an' ma chere never come 'round t'her senses..."
"All right, Gumbo." With a vague look of disgust on his face, Logan dragged him towards the exit. "You cry all over me, I'll kick your ass all the way back to the house."
****
"How can Rogue stay away from her?" Storm looked down at her index finger. Rogue and Remy's daughter had her tiny fingers wrapped around it in a surprisingly strong grip, bringing to life every maternal instinct she possessed.
Hank glanced up from adjusting the tube leading into Madeline's stomach. "Perhaps because she might never be able to do what you're doing right now."
Sighing, the white-haired woman eased her finger out of the baby's grip and wheeled away from the exam table. It was silly, she thought, still being confined to this contraption. But Hank had ordered her into it for at least another week, despite the fact that her wounds were almost completely healed. "She is feeling sorry for herself. And perhaps she has every right in the world to...for a time, at least. But she cannot be as selfish as she has been in the past anymore. She has a child who needs her now."
"Have you considered telling her this?" Hank took the bottle of milk that Rogue had expressed in the privacy of her own room just that morning. "If you don't, I might."
She watched him feed drop after drop into the gastric tube. "Poor precious," she whispered to Madeline. "As if your life isn't going to be tough enough." Storm paused. "What right do I have lecturing to Rogue when my own life is hardly in working order?"
"You are her friend. Her leader." He capped the little bottle with a sigh. "And no one else seems willing to pull her out of the hole she's dug for herself."
"Jubilee's tried, bless her heart. Do you know what Rogue said?" Without waiting for an answer, Storm continued, "She asked her if she was in the market for a diamond ring. I've never seen Jubilee so upset and I don't think it was because she won't be wearing her bridesmaid dress anytime soon."
"We all want to believe that Rogue and Gambit will eventually be able to solve their problems, especially now..." Hank smiled down at the tiny baby on his exam table. "...that this little angel has come along." His smile fell. "But none of us have ever tried to be in a relationship with the sort of limitations theirs has. Perhaps we cannot ever truly understand why it doesn't seem able to work."
"Why what doesn't seem able to work?" Scott entered the infirmary on the heels of the conversation.
Storm pursed her lips. "We were just indulging in a moment of gossip."
"Ah." He nodded at her. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better. I hope to begin some light exercise within the week." She waited for Hank's approving nod. "Will the team make it until then?"
Scott sighed. "There's not been much of a team to work with lately. Rogue's holed up in her room, Jubilee has her classes, you've been out of commission, Hank, you've had your hands full, Gambit comes and goes, and Wolverine's been even more of a ray of sunshine than usual. I shudder to think what we'd do if there were a crisis right now."
"'The task of a great leader is to get his people from where they are to where they have not been,'" Hank quoted. "Henry Kissinger."
"I'll remember that," Scott replied, dryly. His frown lifted when he spotted Madeline. "She is cute."
"Ever think about havin' one, Cyke?" Logan asked from the doorway, startling the people inside, especially Storm who immediately looked away from his intense stare. "You know...in this dimension?"
The team leader sighed again and shook his head. "Storm, when you're feeling up to it, we'll work out a new training program for the few team members left who actually want to train." The sharp words were aimed directly at Logan as Scott brushed past him on his way out, but the shorter man barely felt them.
"Ro," Logan began. "We need to talk, darlin'."
She lifted her chin. "We do? About what?"
Hank cleared his throat, suddenly feeling quite like the proverbial third wheel. "If you two wish to talk, could you possibly go elsewhere? Miss Madeline requires her beauty sleep."
Logan moved forwards, grabbing the handles on Storm's wheelchair before she could move away from him. Frowning, she stood up. "What are you doin'?" he asked, roughly. "You ain't hardly healed yet."
"How would you know?" she shot back.
"Excuse me?" Hank gestured to the baby. "Elsewhere. Please."
Still frowning, Storm eased back into the chair and let herself be rolled out into the hallway. But as soon as the infirmary doors shut, she grabbed the wheels and spun out his control. "Logan, what is there for us to talk about?"
He took a breath. "Ro...look. I don't quite know how we managed to fuck everything up this badly, but..." He stopped suddenly.
"But, what?" she prompted. "Logan...what is it?"
"I just...I miss you, Ro. I wake up alone, and I want you there beside me."
Storm's eyes clouded over. "You miss me in your bed."
"Yeah." Logan blinked. "Wait, no."
"You miss getting off without any emotional complications," she continued, spitting the words out with a fair amount of venom.
He shook his head. "If you think that, darlin', you don't know me at all. What I'm tryin' to say is..."
"You're trying to say something you don't need to, Logan. I'm perfectly aware that I've merely been a substitute for someone you've always wanted, but can't have. And maybe if I loved you...it would upset me. But it doesn't." She swallowed the lie. "We work well together, in battle and in bed. Not everything has to be more than that."
Logan put a hand on either arm of her wheelchair and leaned in so close that she could smell the whisper of alcohol on his breath. "What if I want more?"
"I'm not the one you want it from," she replied, unable to look away from him this time. "Am I?"
"Do you see me tryin' to say this stuff to her?"
Storm blinked. Just around Logan's thick body, she saw a flash of green. He frowned, sensing the movement behind him, and turned his head to identify it. "Rogue," she said before he could. The woman in question backed up a few steps. "Wait!"
"Ah didn' mean to interrupt. Ah just...Ah wanted to check...to see if Hank needed...anymore milk," Rogue said, pulling at a loose thread on her cut-off jeans.
"Darlin'," Logan said, giving her a look. "Go see your baby, for god's sake."
She shook her head tightly, her curls swinging back and forth. "Ah can't. Just tell me..." Her teeth tugged at her lower lip. "Is she okay?"
"I'm not going to tell you, Rogue," Storm said firmly. "And I'll order every single person in this house to keep quiet on the subject until you snap out of your self-pity and remember that you can't just think about yourself anymore."
The words slapped Rogue across the face. Almost instantly, her defenses went up and she lashed out. "How the hell would ya know anythin' 'bout what Ah'm goin' through?" she snapped. "Ah guess it's too much to 'spect my friends to understand." Backing up, she continued, "'Sides...my baby's got one good parent who can hold her and help her and not kill her. What does she need her soul-suckin' momma for?"
"The key word there is 'momma'. There's too many children upstairs who would give anything to have the love of their mother, for me to sit idly by and watch you deny your own child that which others have never known." Holding her side where a few stitches still remained, Storm leaned forward. "And there's too many people in the world who will never know love for you throw it away without consideration."
Rogue turned her head. "Ya'll don' know..." She sniffed. "If ya'll would just wrench yer own heads outta yer asses an' tell each other that yer in love...maybe then Ah'd be a 'lil more inclined to listen to ya." She looked back only to see them staring at each other. "Yeah. Ya'll just don' know."
She ran for the elevator and jammed her thumb against the button until the doors opened. The ride to the second story of the house seemed like hours, but she managed to keep her tears at bay. She was so tired of crying. So tired of fighting. So tired of sneaking around to see her daughter. That's all she ever did, steal a peek or two here and there, usually at midnight after everyone had gone to bed.
Somehow, it seemed worse to only look at Madeline through the plastic, like some sort of outcast. But she'd cast herself out, she'd remind herself, for her daughter's sake. It had been the right thing to do. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.
And as for Remy...well, that had been the right thing to do, as well. Erik might not have been right about him cheating on her or her darning his socks...she couldn't even thread a needle...but he was right about her wanting more. She did want everything a marriage to the man she loved should have entitled her to. It was torture enough to slip down to the boathouse on the nights she visited Madeline, and watch him toss and turn in his sleep, knowing that she was the cause of his restlessness. If she married him and shared a bed with him for the rest of her life, she'd only be torturing him, as well.
Better to let them both go before she ruined Madeline's life, or possibly ended it, and messed up Remy's more than she already had.
The elevator stopped on the first level. Rogue frowned at the control panel. "C'mon...keep goin'." She was not in the mood to be around any more people that day.
But the doors opened anyways and refused to close, even when she continuously pressed the button to do so. With a resigned sigh, Rogue stormed out of the elevator car and started for the main staircase.
She reached the first step and looked up. At the top of the stairs, Remy stood, his arms folded over his chest. He looked down at her with a jaunty smile on his face. "Mademoiselle," he said, his voice echoing through the huge, open space.
Rogue glanced around. "What the hell are ya doin??"
"Mademoiselle...de love o' my life!! De mamán o' my bébé Madeline." Several students poked their heads out of the parlor and the kitchen, but he continued as though they weren't there. "De only femme t'ever break dis Caj'n's heart an' heal it up in de same day!"
Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. "Are ya drunk, swamp rat? 'Cause if ya are..."
He took three steps down, unfolding his arms to reach out one to her. "W'at must a pauvre voleur..." Remy stopped and looked to one side at the students who had appeared at the banister to watch. "Mes amis petits...dat means...?"
"Poor thief!" one little girl yelled.
"Trés bien." He looked back at Rogue. "W'at must he do t'get dat femme back?"
"Okay...now Ah know yer drunk," Rogue said, rolling her eyes. But she remained where she was.
"Maybe he need t'give up his life o' gamblin' an' t'ieving an' use his power t'help ot'ers." He paused. "But he done dat." A wicked smile spread on his handsome face. "For de mos' part."
Jubilee pushed her way through the crowd of students until she could see the scene unfolding on the stairs.
Remy took another step down. "Maybe he need t'cross a continent, fightin' de snow an' de ice t'get back t'her." He paused again. "But he done dat, too."
"Remy, Ah..."
He cut her off. "Maybe he need t'tell her dat he never knew w'at happiness be 'til he meet her. Dat's why he believe in it...he feel it every time he look at her."
Rogue swallowed. "Ya know...when ya sober up, yer really gonna regret this..." Her words trailed off as he took two more steps.
"Maybe he need t'thank her again...for bringin' his Madeline into de world. For all de pain an' sufferin' she went t'rough t'make it happen."
She turned her gaze down to the hard wood floor as Bobby, Kitty, Jean and Scott showed up to see what was going on. "She did it gladly," she whispered.
Another couple of steps brought him even closer to her. "Maybe...he need t'give her dis." Remy reached into his brown coat and pulled out the velvet box he'd been saving for weeks. "Since she don' want de diamond no more...maybe she like de heart." He opened the box and held it out to her. "He'd give her his own, but she already have it. She have it for years."
Her chin trembled. "What are ya doin'? Ah already told ya..."
"Rogue," he said, suddenly sober. "I ask you t'marry me before, so I won' ask again. But I will ask you somet'ing else."
"What's that?" A tear slid down her cheek.
"My life don' be normal. Your life don' be normal. Madeline's life won' be normal." He smiled and looked around. "Anyone here got a normal life...raise dose petit hands now." No one moved and he looked back at Rogue. "Here's dis Caj'n's question t'you. Will you be a not-normal mamán to our fille?" He took the last two steps down to her and lifted the necklace from the velvet. " Will you share dis not-normal life wit' me?"
She looked up at him with wet eyes. "Ye've never even heard a word Ah've said 'bout why this ain' never gonna work, have ya?"
"Gambit hear fine, chere," he replied. "He just don' listen t't'ings he don' like." He put a gloved finger to her lips, ignoring the chorus of giggles from the students. "You migh' t'ink him a fool for all dis...but if you turn your back on happiness, you de fool, amour."
"Erik said..."
"What did he say, Rogue?" Storm asked, wheeling herself off the other elevator with Logan just behind her. "What did he say that could possibly matter?"
She looked around again. "Ah feel like Ah'm bein' tag-teamed here, ya'll."
"You are, darlin'," Logan reassured her.
Rogue scowled. "Ah don' take kindly to it."
"I don' want t'spend anot'er day wit'out you bein' my wife," Remy told her, quite plainly. "We been waitin' for years already, chere. Why you want t'wait more?"
"Ah..." She licked her lips, tasting salt. "Ah don'."
One very impatient little girl hanging over the banister yelled out, "Just say yes!!"
Remy jerked a thumb back towards the outspoken student. "Out o' de mout' o' babes, ne?"
"Remy," she lowered her voice, as not to have the entire household hear her. "Why are ya doin' this?"
He blinked. "Because, ma chere. I love you. An' you love me. If you be needin' proof o' dat...she be downstairs sleepin' like un ange de ciel." Remy leaned in to her. "I can't be a papa on my own anymore den you can be a mamán by yourself. W'at you say we do it toget'er?"
"Do ya ever lose an argument?"
"Dis not 'bout winnin', chere. Gambit don' win dis 'til he standin' next t'you in front o' de priest, sayin' 'I do'."
Rogue released a pent-up breath. "Yer takin' on a lot, swamp rat. All my baggage...an' ya won' even be gettin' anythin' outta it."
"You still t'ink so little o' dis Caj'n?" Anger inched through his adrenaline high. "After all o' dis?!"
"No." She covered her mouth with shaking fingers. "No, 'course not. Ah just...it's easier if Ah think..." Rogue hung her head. "God...Ah've been such a selfish bitch!!"
"Careful," Remy warned her. "Dat be my girl you talkin' 'bout."
Without stopping to think anymore, Rogue threw her arms around his neck. "Ah have been!" she cried into his shoulder, forgetting that there was anyone in the house but them. "Ah've been horrible to you...Ah've abandoned my baby...Ah've locked *myself* up an' tried to throw away the key so ya couldn' reach me. But ya always do, swamp rat." She clung to him tighter. "Ya always do."
Still holding the necklace, he slid his hands around her back, holding her just as tight. "I be a t'ief, ma belle. I pick locks."
She laughed in spite of her herself and pulled back to see him. "Ah wanna spend my not-normal life with ya. But is it okay if Ah keep wantin' more?" She bit her lip. "Ah'm always gonna want to touch ya. To hold her. To be normal. More normal," she corrected herself.
Remy stroked her hair. "We never stop tryin', chere. Dat be a promise."
Rogue nodded and looked down at his hands. "Can Ah have this an' the diamond?"
Instead of replying, he turned her around and swept her hair over her shoulder. Within seconds, he had the necklace fastened around her slender throat. He moved his lips as close to her ear as he could. "You can have it all."
And even though the words weren't technically true, Rogue turned around and embraced him again. Neither of them heard the hoots, hollers or applause that went up as their second engagement was sealed.
Breaking away from her after kissing her hair, Remy started for the front door. "Where are ya goin'?" she called out.
"T'get de priest," he called back. "He been waitin' in de car long enough, don' you t'ink?"
****
Remy and Rogue became Mr. and Mrs. LeBeau that afternoon in the opulent dining room, surrounded by their friends...their family, and most importantly, their daughter who was brought up for the ceremony and carried by her godfather. Instead of the maternity wedding gown that had been sewn for her, the bride wore a simple white slip dress and elbow-length gloves, and carried an armful of Queen Anne's Lace from the gardens.
The vows were simple, the same ones that had been pledged by generations of couples in love. Rogue's stare never broke away from Remy's as she repeated them; she was afraid that if she lost contact, she might wake up in a cold bed, alone and crying. But it wasn't a dream anymore. It was even better.
When the priest gave the groom permission to kiss his bride, he did just that. A brush of his lips across hers, the lightest, briefest contact possible. It made Rogue's head spin, feeling the very edge of Remy's soul bleed into her. He was already so much there that it didn't seem to matter. She opened her eyes and looked up into her husband's for the first time.
"Dat won' be de last time," he promised her as the priest announced their marriage to the small crowd gathered to witness it.
The party that followed went on well into the evening, but the bride and groom didn't stick around for it. Neither did they spend their first night as newlyweds in any secluded spot, loving until dawn. The first hours of their marriage were spent in the infirmary, holding hands as they watched their daughter sleep.
"Remy," Rogue whispered after hours of content silence.
"Hmm?"
"Ah want ya to know..." She turned her head from its resting place on her arm to see him better. "Ah'm really happy."
He smiled sleepily. "Me too, ma chere."
Remy fell asleep not long after that, but Rogue stayed awake. She'd spent too many days away from her baby, lost too many hours to her own self-pity; she was determined not to miss another minute.
Sometime just before dawn, the little hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Rogue glanced over at her new husband; his breath was heavy and steady, and he showed no signs of waking up any time soon. She sat up straight and glanced around.
A dark shape stepped out of the shadows and she froze. "What are ya doin' here?" It was all Rogue could do to get the words out of her mouth.
"You didn't think I'd miss my daughter's wedding day, did you?" Mystique asked, coyly.
Rogue shook her head. "No. Ah just hoped."
****
To Be Continued
Author's Notes: More thanks are in order for all the reviews. I appreciate the kind words very much. Angst and drama are so much fun, aren't they? But they must come to an end...eventually;) Enjoy...
****
Unexpected
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
The bar, a slightly seedy roadhouse only two miles away from the mansion, was a favorite for the men of the X-Men. If something was bothering one of them that the Danger Room couldn't take care of, they could inevitably be found there, nursing a beer or something stronger.
When Logan entered the joint two weeks after Storm had single-handedly pulled herself out of his life, he wasn't entirely surprised to find another member of the team sitting at the end of the bar, staring at a full shot glass of amber liquid. Shaking his head, Logan started towards him.
"Gumbo," he addressed the man. "Drinkin' before noon?"
"Don' see how it your business," Remy replied tersely. He picked up the little glass and drained it without so much as a wince. "Anot'er," he told the man behind the bar.
As the bartender refilled the glass with Jim Beam, Logan sat in the stool next to him. "The same," he ordered.
They sat in silence for a long time, Remy sipping at his fifth shot and Logan downing his first and signaling for a second.
"We make one sad pair, mon ami," the Cajun man chuckled bitterly. "Suppose dat's w'at we get...lovin' de strongest femmes in de world." Logan made a non-committal grunt in reply. "Least you be knowin' dat yours love you back."
The small amount of alcohol shouldn't have even started to affect his impenetrable system, but the other man actually answered with a very quiet, very sad, "She doesn't love me."
"You be jokin' wit' dis Caj'n?" Remy shook his head. "Stormy love you for years. Don' need no special gift t'be seein' dat." Because there was enough alcohol rushing through his veins, he continued, "Maybe you don' see it...only havin' eyes for de one femme you can't ever have."
Logan slammed his glass onto the bar. "Keep your trap shut 'bout things you don't know."
"But Gambit do know dis, mon ami. You t'ink you ever been subtle 'bout it? Don' nobody t'ink you love Mrs. Summers no more, but dere was a time..." He finished his shot. "An' all dat time, ma Storm love you. God himself know why." Remy caught the bartender's eye and pointed to his empty glass.
Logan held up his hand, cutting the other man off. "You gonna drag your ass home drunk *and* bruised? Hank won't let you anywhere near your daughter."
This proved better than a quart of coffee at almost instantly sobering Remy up. "Ma Madeline already lost her mamán." He waved away the bartender when the man reached to refill his glass, despite Logan's intervention. "Gambit not much o' a papa, but she need me."
"Rogue's still not come around?"
The question hung in the air until Remy jerked his head slightly. "She give our bébé milk an' not'ing else."
Logan raised his third shot to his lips. "And...the weddin'?"
"Why you care?" Remy's eyes flashed as he turned them onto the shorter man. "It be no secret dat you don' like dis Caj'n."
"I *don't* care," Logan assured him, kicking back the liquor. "But I also don't figure One-Eye should be the only one of us who gets his gal."
"Dat some powerful grudge you be holdin', mon ami."
The other man winced as the heat of the cheap whiskey burned a path to his stomach. "Not so much anymore. Just can't let him know it," he said. "But Jeannie knows. It ain't like she expected me to pine after her forever."
"Maybe dis be somet'ing you should be tellin' Stormy?" Remy suggested.
Logan's brow pulled into a scowl. "She should know."
"How could she, if you don' be..."
"Remy? Remy LeBeau?" Both men turned their heads to see the curvy brunette approaching them with a wide smile on her painted lips. "Well, well. What's it been? A million years?" She pouted prettily. "I haven't seen you since that night that we...you know."
He didn't have to think hard to remember the night to which she referred; contrary to popular belief, there hadn't been many of them since he'd fallen in love with Rogue. But this one had been after a particularly nasty fight. He'd come to the bar, gotten rip-roaring drunk and met up with...
"Laura." Remy shook his head as she slid into the empty chair on his other side. "Sometime I wonder if I be punished for de sins o' dis life...or dis life *an'* anot'er."
She slipped her arm through his. "Are you going to introduce me to your friend?"
Logan looked at him. "Think I got it, Gumbo. Laura. One-night stand." He took a sip from his refreshed drink. "So much for not carin' about sex."
"Dere a lot 'bout dat nigh' dat I don' recall. But I do know dat I didn'...you know."
The woman's hard blue eyes smoldered. "Everything but, honey." She hooked her arm through his. "Of course...if you want to rectify that...I'm available anytime."
"I'm sure you are," Logan snorted. "Wonder what Rogue'll have to say about this."
"Who's Rogue?" Laura asked, clinging to Remy a bit harder.
Remy paused for a long minute as he contemplated that simple question. Who was Rogue? Was she just the last in a long line of women who'd come in and out of his life, making living it both a pleasure and a misery? Was she just the mother of his child? Or was she more...the only woman he'd ever loved with his adult heart, free and clear of any obligations or outside influences...the woman he saw himself growing old and wrinkled with...the woman he wanted with every cell in his body, but whom he'd be quite content to only touch through the safety of material barriers until the day he died? Maybe she was all of the above, everything...everything good he had in his life.
It only took one glance at the woman cuddling up to him for him to realize that this was not what he wanted. Yes, it would be very easy to take Laura up on her offer, to give himself what he'd loved since he was a gangly fourteen year-old boy lying spent in the supple arms of a much older woman in the heat of a French Quarter loft. But his heart wouldn't be in it. His heart would never be in it again if it wasn't Rogue's arms around his neck, Rogue's warm breath against his ear, Rogue's fingers tangled in his hair. And if she couldn't see that...well, he wasn't about to follow Logan's example and just assume that she'd figure it out on her own eventually. He'd tell her, he'd scream it as loud and as long as he had to until she believed him. Whatever it took, he'd make her know that he loved her, unconditionally.
He'd never backed down from a challenge he knew he could overcome; it wasn't his style. He was willing to do anything it took, even if that meant playing dirty, or underhanded or unconventionally. But he liked winning. In the gambit of his life, Remy always tried to come out on top. He wasn't about to start losing everything he'd ever wanted, just when he finally got it.
"Rogue be de mamán o' my bébé," he told the voluptuous woman, prying her away from his side. "An' de only woman I be available for."
Laura blinked, as though she couldn't understand him. "You got married?"
Remy gritted his teeth. "Not quite yet, petit."
"Then..." Her lips curved up. "What's the problem?"
"The problem is this, darlin'." Logan set his glass down with a dangerous smile. "The Cajun's got himself enough problems without addin' your name to the list. So, go play somewhere else. Ain't nobody interested here."
The woman shook her head after a long second of staring at the two men. "Your loss." She slid off the bar stool and stalked off with a flounce of her hair and a dirty look.
Remy signaled to the bartender again, but this time for the tab he'd racked up. "Got t'get back," he mumbled. "Got t'see my girls."
"Not like this, you don't." Logan snatched the bill away from him and pulled out his wallet. "I'll get this. You go dunk that ugly head of yours in the bathroom sink a couple of times, and then we're gonna figure out a way to get Rogue to marry you."
"Why you helpin' Gambit, mon ami?"
The other man tossed down enough money to cover their tab. "'Cause. You're gonna help me."
Remy lifted an eyebrow and stumbled a bit as he tried to stand. "I am? Wit' w'at?"
"Ro." He replaced his wallet in his back pocket. "You know her better than anyone. And you're gonna tell me what I need to do to get her back."
The Cajun man grinned, still loopy from the excessive amount of whiskey he'd downed. "Dat make us partners, you know dis?"
"Temporarily," Logan assured him. "I just don't like comin' into my bar and seein' you slobberin' all over it."
Before he could stop him, Remy slung an arm around his shoulders. "Admit it, mon ami. We make a good team, oui? You know...ma chere...she want t'make you godfat'er to ma Madeline. Gambit t'ink it be a good idea. Dere nobody can keep her safe as you." The alcohol had hit him fully now, making him tear up. "If somet'ing happen t'me...an' ma chere never come 'round t'her senses..."
"All right, Gumbo." With a vague look of disgust on his face, Logan dragged him towards the exit. "You cry all over me, I'll kick your ass all the way back to the house."
****
"How can Rogue stay away from her?" Storm looked down at her index finger. Rogue and Remy's daughter had her tiny fingers wrapped around it in a surprisingly strong grip, bringing to life every maternal instinct she possessed.
Hank glanced up from adjusting the tube leading into Madeline's stomach. "Perhaps because she might never be able to do what you're doing right now."
Sighing, the white-haired woman eased her finger out of the baby's grip and wheeled away from the exam table. It was silly, she thought, still being confined to this contraption. But Hank had ordered her into it for at least another week, despite the fact that her wounds were almost completely healed. "She is feeling sorry for herself. And perhaps she has every right in the world to...for a time, at least. But she cannot be as selfish as she has been in the past anymore. She has a child who needs her now."
"Have you considered telling her this?" Hank took the bottle of milk that Rogue had expressed in the privacy of her own room just that morning. "If you don't, I might."
She watched him feed drop after drop into the gastric tube. "Poor precious," she whispered to Madeline. "As if your life isn't going to be tough enough." Storm paused. "What right do I have lecturing to Rogue when my own life is hardly in working order?"
"You are her friend. Her leader." He capped the little bottle with a sigh. "And no one else seems willing to pull her out of the hole she's dug for herself."
"Jubilee's tried, bless her heart. Do you know what Rogue said?" Without waiting for an answer, Storm continued, "She asked her if she was in the market for a diamond ring. I've never seen Jubilee so upset and I don't think it was because she won't be wearing her bridesmaid dress anytime soon."
"We all want to believe that Rogue and Gambit will eventually be able to solve their problems, especially now..." Hank smiled down at the tiny baby on his exam table. "...that this little angel has come along." His smile fell. "But none of us have ever tried to be in a relationship with the sort of limitations theirs has. Perhaps we cannot ever truly understand why it doesn't seem able to work."
"Why what doesn't seem able to work?" Scott entered the infirmary on the heels of the conversation.
Storm pursed her lips. "We were just indulging in a moment of gossip."
"Ah." He nodded at her. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better. I hope to begin some light exercise within the week." She waited for Hank's approving nod. "Will the team make it until then?"
Scott sighed. "There's not been much of a team to work with lately. Rogue's holed up in her room, Jubilee has her classes, you've been out of commission, Hank, you've had your hands full, Gambit comes and goes, and Wolverine's been even more of a ray of sunshine than usual. I shudder to think what we'd do if there were a crisis right now."
"'The task of a great leader is to get his people from where they are to where they have not been,'" Hank quoted. "Henry Kissinger."
"I'll remember that," Scott replied, dryly. His frown lifted when he spotted Madeline. "She is cute."
"Ever think about havin' one, Cyke?" Logan asked from the doorway, startling the people inside, especially Storm who immediately looked away from his intense stare. "You know...in this dimension?"
The team leader sighed again and shook his head. "Storm, when you're feeling up to it, we'll work out a new training program for the few team members left who actually want to train." The sharp words were aimed directly at Logan as Scott brushed past him on his way out, but the shorter man barely felt them.
"Ro," Logan began. "We need to talk, darlin'."
She lifted her chin. "We do? About what?"
Hank cleared his throat, suddenly feeling quite like the proverbial third wheel. "If you two wish to talk, could you possibly go elsewhere? Miss Madeline requires her beauty sleep."
Logan moved forwards, grabbing the handles on Storm's wheelchair before she could move away from him. Frowning, she stood up. "What are you doin'?" he asked, roughly. "You ain't hardly healed yet."
"How would you know?" she shot back.
"Excuse me?" Hank gestured to the baby. "Elsewhere. Please."
Still frowning, Storm eased back into the chair and let herself be rolled out into the hallway. But as soon as the infirmary doors shut, she grabbed the wheels and spun out his control. "Logan, what is there for us to talk about?"
He took a breath. "Ro...look. I don't quite know how we managed to fuck everything up this badly, but..." He stopped suddenly.
"But, what?" she prompted. "Logan...what is it?"
"I just...I miss you, Ro. I wake up alone, and I want you there beside me."
Storm's eyes clouded over. "You miss me in your bed."
"Yeah." Logan blinked. "Wait, no."
"You miss getting off without any emotional complications," she continued, spitting the words out with a fair amount of venom.
He shook his head. "If you think that, darlin', you don't know me at all. What I'm tryin' to say is..."
"You're trying to say something you don't need to, Logan. I'm perfectly aware that I've merely been a substitute for someone you've always wanted, but can't have. And maybe if I loved you...it would upset me. But it doesn't." She swallowed the lie. "We work well together, in battle and in bed. Not everything has to be more than that."
Logan put a hand on either arm of her wheelchair and leaned in so close that she could smell the whisper of alcohol on his breath. "What if I want more?"
"I'm not the one you want it from," she replied, unable to look away from him this time. "Am I?"
"Do you see me tryin' to say this stuff to her?"
Storm blinked. Just around Logan's thick body, she saw a flash of green. He frowned, sensing the movement behind him, and turned his head to identify it. "Rogue," she said before he could. The woman in question backed up a few steps. "Wait!"
"Ah didn' mean to interrupt. Ah just...Ah wanted to check...to see if Hank needed...anymore milk," Rogue said, pulling at a loose thread on her cut-off jeans.
"Darlin'," Logan said, giving her a look. "Go see your baby, for god's sake."
She shook her head tightly, her curls swinging back and forth. "Ah can't. Just tell me..." Her teeth tugged at her lower lip. "Is she okay?"
"I'm not going to tell you, Rogue," Storm said firmly. "And I'll order every single person in this house to keep quiet on the subject until you snap out of your self-pity and remember that you can't just think about yourself anymore."
The words slapped Rogue across the face. Almost instantly, her defenses went up and she lashed out. "How the hell would ya know anythin' 'bout what Ah'm goin' through?" she snapped. "Ah guess it's too much to 'spect my friends to understand." Backing up, she continued, "'Sides...my baby's got one good parent who can hold her and help her and not kill her. What does she need her soul-suckin' momma for?"
"The key word there is 'momma'. There's too many children upstairs who would give anything to have the love of their mother, for me to sit idly by and watch you deny your own child that which others have never known." Holding her side where a few stitches still remained, Storm leaned forward. "And there's too many people in the world who will never know love for you throw it away without consideration."
Rogue turned her head. "Ya'll don' know..." She sniffed. "If ya'll would just wrench yer own heads outta yer asses an' tell each other that yer in love...maybe then Ah'd be a 'lil more inclined to listen to ya." She looked back only to see them staring at each other. "Yeah. Ya'll just don' know."
She ran for the elevator and jammed her thumb against the button until the doors opened. The ride to the second story of the house seemed like hours, but she managed to keep her tears at bay. She was so tired of crying. So tired of fighting. So tired of sneaking around to see her daughter. That's all she ever did, steal a peek or two here and there, usually at midnight after everyone had gone to bed.
Somehow, it seemed worse to only look at Madeline through the plastic, like some sort of outcast. But she'd cast herself out, she'd remind herself, for her daughter's sake. It had been the right thing to do. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.
And as for Remy...well, that had been the right thing to do, as well. Erik might not have been right about him cheating on her or her darning his socks...she couldn't even thread a needle...but he was right about her wanting more. She did want everything a marriage to the man she loved should have entitled her to. It was torture enough to slip down to the boathouse on the nights she visited Madeline, and watch him toss and turn in his sleep, knowing that she was the cause of his restlessness. If she married him and shared a bed with him for the rest of her life, she'd only be torturing him, as well.
Better to let them both go before she ruined Madeline's life, or possibly ended it, and messed up Remy's more than she already had.
The elevator stopped on the first level. Rogue frowned at the control panel. "C'mon...keep goin'." She was not in the mood to be around any more people that day.
But the doors opened anyways and refused to close, even when she continuously pressed the button to do so. With a resigned sigh, Rogue stormed out of the elevator car and started for the main staircase.
She reached the first step and looked up. At the top of the stairs, Remy stood, his arms folded over his chest. He looked down at her with a jaunty smile on his face. "Mademoiselle," he said, his voice echoing through the huge, open space.
Rogue glanced around. "What the hell are ya doin??"
"Mademoiselle...de love o' my life!! De mamán o' my bébé Madeline." Several students poked their heads out of the parlor and the kitchen, but he continued as though they weren't there. "De only femme t'ever break dis Caj'n's heart an' heal it up in de same day!"
Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. "Are ya drunk, swamp rat? 'Cause if ya are..."
He took three steps down, unfolding his arms to reach out one to her. "W'at must a pauvre voleur..." Remy stopped and looked to one side at the students who had appeared at the banister to watch. "Mes amis petits...dat means...?"
"Poor thief!" one little girl yelled.
"Trés bien." He looked back at Rogue. "W'at must he do t'get dat femme back?"
"Okay...now Ah know yer drunk," Rogue said, rolling her eyes. But she remained where she was.
"Maybe he need t'give up his life o' gamblin' an' t'ieving an' use his power t'help ot'ers." He paused. "But he done dat." A wicked smile spread on his handsome face. "For de mos' part."
Jubilee pushed her way through the crowd of students until she could see the scene unfolding on the stairs.
Remy took another step down. "Maybe he need t'cross a continent, fightin' de snow an' de ice t'get back t'her." He paused again. "But he done dat, too."
"Remy, Ah..."
He cut her off. "Maybe he need t'tell her dat he never knew w'at happiness be 'til he meet her. Dat's why he believe in it...he feel it every time he look at her."
Rogue swallowed. "Ya know...when ya sober up, yer really gonna regret this..." Her words trailed off as he took two more steps.
"Maybe he need t'thank her again...for bringin' his Madeline into de world. For all de pain an' sufferin' she went t'rough t'make it happen."
She turned her gaze down to the hard wood floor as Bobby, Kitty, Jean and Scott showed up to see what was going on. "She did it gladly," she whispered.
Another couple of steps brought him even closer to her. "Maybe...he need t'give her dis." Remy reached into his brown coat and pulled out the velvet box he'd been saving for weeks. "Since she don' want de diamond no more...maybe she like de heart." He opened the box and held it out to her. "He'd give her his own, but she already have it. She have it for years."
Her chin trembled. "What are ya doin'? Ah already told ya..."
"Rogue," he said, suddenly sober. "I ask you t'marry me before, so I won' ask again. But I will ask you somet'ing else."
"What's that?" A tear slid down her cheek.
"My life don' be normal. Your life don' be normal. Madeline's life won' be normal." He smiled and looked around. "Anyone here got a normal life...raise dose petit hands now." No one moved and he looked back at Rogue. "Here's dis Caj'n's question t'you. Will you be a not-normal mamán to our fille?" He took the last two steps down to her and lifted the necklace from the velvet. " Will you share dis not-normal life wit' me?"
She looked up at him with wet eyes. "Ye've never even heard a word Ah've said 'bout why this ain' never gonna work, have ya?"
"Gambit hear fine, chere," he replied. "He just don' listen t't'ings he don' like." He put a gloved finger to her lips, ignoring the chorus of giggles from the students. "You migh' t'ink him a fool for all dis...but if you turn your back on happiness, you de fool, amour."
"Erik said..."
"What did he say, Rogue?" Storm asked, wheeling herself off the other elevator with Logan just behind her. "What did he say that could possibly matter?"
She looked around again. "Ah feel like Ah'm bein' tag-teamed here, ya'll."
"You are, darlin'," Logan reassured her.
Rogue scowled. "Ah don' take kindly to it."
"I don' want t'spend anot'er day wit'out you bein' my wife," Remy told her, quite plainly. "We been waitin' for years already, chere. Why you want t'wait more?"
"Ah..." She licked her lips, tasting salt. "Ah don'."
One very impatient little girl hanging over the banister yelled out, "Just say yes!!"
Remy jerked a thumb back towards the outspoken student. "Out o' de mout' o' babes, ne?"
"Remy," she lowered her voice, as not to have the entire household hear her. "Why are ya doin' this?"
He blinked. "Because, ma chere. I love you. An' you love me. If you be needin' proof o' dat...she be downstairs sleepin' like un ange de ciel." Remy leaned in to her. "I can't be a papa on my own anymore den you can be a mamán by yourself. W'at you say we do it toget'er?"
"Do ya ever lose an argument?"
"Dis not 'bout winnin', chere. Gambit don' win dis 'til he standin' next t'you in front o' de priest, sayin' 'I do'."
Rogue released a pent-up breath. "Yer takin' on a lot, swamp rat. All my baggage...an' ya won' even be gettin' anythin' outta it."
"You still t'ink so little o' dis Caj'n?" Anger inched through his adrenaline high. "After all o' dis?!"
"No." She covered her mouth with shaking fingers. "No, 'course not. Ah just...it's easier if Ah think..." Rogue hung her head. "God...Ah've been such a selfish bitch!!"
"Careful," Remy warned her. "Dat be my girl you talkin' 'bout."
Without stopping to think anymore, Rogue threw her arms around his neck. "Ah have been!" she cried into his shoulder, forgetting that there was anyone in the house but them. "Ah've been horrible to you...Ah've abandoned my baby...Ah've locked *myself* up an' tried to throw away the key so ya couldn' reach me. But ya always do, swamp rat." She clung to him tighter. "Ya always do."
Still holding the necklace, he slid his hands around her back, holding her just as tight. "I be a t'ief, ma belle. I pick locks."
She laughed in spite of her herself and pulled back to see him. "Ah wanna spend my not-normal life with ya. But is it okay if Ah keep wantin' more?" She bit her lip. "Ah'm always gonna want to touch ya. To hold her. To be normal. More normal," she corrected herself.
Remy stroked her hair. "We never stop tryin', chere. Dat be a promise."
Rogue nodded and looked down at his hands. "Can Ah have this an' the diamond?"
Instead of replying, he turned her around and swept her hair over her shoulder. Within seconds, he had the necklace fastened around her slender throat. He moved his lips as close to her ear as he could. "You can have it all."
And even though the words weren't technically true, Rogue turned around and embraced him again. Neither of them heard the hoots, hollers or applause that went up as their second engagement was sealed.
Breaking away from her after kissing her hair, Remy started for the front door. "Where are ya goin'?" she called out.
"T'get de priest," he called back. "He been waitin' in de car long enough, don' you t'ink?"
****
Remy and Rogue became Mr. and Mrs. LeBeau that afternoon in the opulent dining room, surrounded by their friends...their family, and most importantly, their daughter who was brought up for the ceremony and carried by her godfather. Instead of the maternity wedding gown that had been sewn for her, the bride wore a simple white slip dress and elbow-length gloves, and carried an armful of Queen Anne's Lace from the gardens.
The vows were simple, the same ones that had been pledged by generations of couples in love. Rogue's stare never broke away from Remy's as she repeated them; she was afraid that if she lost contact, she might wake up in a cold bed, alone and crying. But it wasn't a dream anymore. It was even better.
When the priest gave the groom permission to kiss his bride, he did just that. A brush of his lips across hers, the lightest, briefest contact possible. It made Rogue's head spin, feeling the very edge of Remy's soul bleed into her. He was already so much there that it didn't seem to matter. She opened her eyes and looked up into her husband's for the first time.
"Dat won' be de last time," he promised her as the priest announced their marriage to the small crowd gathered to witness it.
The party that followed went on well into the evening, but the bride and groom didn't stick around for it. Neither did they spend their first night as newlyweds in any secluded spot, loving until dawn. The first hours of their marriage were spent in the infirmary, holding hands as they watched their daughter sleep.
"Remy," Rogue whispered after hours of content silence.
"Hmm?"
"Ah want ya to know..." She turned her head from its resting place on her arm to see him better. "Ah'm really happy."
He smiled sleepily. "Me too, ma chere."
Remy fell asleep not long after that, but Rogue stayed awake. She'd spent too many days away from her baby, lost too many hours to her own self-pity; she was determined not to miss another minute.
Sometime just before dawn, the little hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Rogue glanced over at her new husband; his breath was heavy and steady, and he showed no signs of waking up any time soon. She sat up straight and glanced around.
A dark shape stepped out of the shadows and she froze. "What are ya doin' here?" It was all Rogue could do to get the words out of her mouth.
"You didn't think I'd miss my daughter's wedding day, did you?" Mystique asked, coyly.
Rogue shook her head. "No. Ah just hoped."
****
To Be Continued
