Disclaimer: At no time since I began writing this story have these characters come under my possession.
Author's Notes: See next chapter.
****
Unexpected
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
Life is strange, such joy and pain
The betrayal and the kiss
It may be meant to be, maybe destiny
Leads us down a path like this
A child is born, true love is sworn
And all the in-between
Well you just walk on, walk on until the path is gone
Learning love is the only everything
-Celeste Prince
****
One year later
"Papa." Madeline tugged on the leg of Remy's jeans. "Papa…Mama's tummy moves!"
Remy kneeled down to his two and a half year-old daughter's level and nodded. "Dat be your bébé brot'er, petit," he explained slowly. "He almos' ready t'come out an' meet you."
"Thank god…" Rogue muttered. She drew in a breath as the baby who'd been happily nestled in her belly for the past eight months kicked her sharply, apparently aware that he was being discussed. She was, by far, more anxious than even the future big sister to have the baby born.
"Baby brudder," Madeline repeated. She frowned, her perfect little face puckering up as she tried to reconcile the huge mound of her mother's stomach with the pictures she'd been shown of babies. After a second, she gave up and looked back at her father. "Gotta go potty."
"Ah'll take her," Rogue said, struggling to get off the couch. "Ah won' be able to move much longer." Despite her grumbling, she caught Remy's eye and winked. When she was standing, balancing somewhat precariously for her husband's liking, she reached down for Madeline's hand. Unless the person carrying her was her father, their daughter liked to walk on her own. She was an independent soul. "Come on, baby-girl."
Madeline looked up at her mother. "Not a baby, Mama."
"Not a baby," Rogue conceded. "But come on anyways, sugah."
Remy watched his two favorite females in the entire world make their way down the hall, heading for the bathroom. He sat back onto the sofa, preparing to enjoy the lingering warmth from his wife's body. However, something underneath him squeaked in protest, making him jump back up. Madeline's rubber duck. He pulled it out from between the couch cushions. How the hell had it gotten out of the bathroom? Remy shook his head. Now that Madeline was entirely mobile by herself, they found things in the strangest places. One of Rogue's gloves in the sink, a plastic juice cup underneath his pillow, she liked to move things, and try to hide them as best she could. There wasn't an inch of the boathouse that hadn't been child-proofed, but his daughter was clever and quick.
Had certain events turned out differently, and she'd come into his life when he was still with the Guild, she might have grown up to surpass even his thieving skills. Fortunately, she hadn't been, and she would never have to know the dangers of his former existence. Madeline could be anything she wanted to be; he was going to make sure of that. And with a little bit of Lady Luck's charm, his efforts with the team might create a world in which her inevitable mutant powers would be accepted and tolerated.
As he set aside the rubber duck, Remy was struck with the domesticity that had overtaken his life. The Ragin' Cajun had turned into a husband, a father, and a respected member of the X-Men…and he liked it. No one who'd known him in the past would have guessed it, but this was truly what he'd always wanted. He could fight and sweat and swear and blast things all day in the Danger Room or on a mission, but he came home at night to a little bit of himself with red curls trying to tell him about the exciting things she'd done that day with the few words in her vocabulary, and his soulmate giving him the coy smile he'd come to know as the "yer gonna get lucky tonigh' grin." Life was frighteningly close to perfection.
He heard the toilet flush, and a minute later Rogue and Madeline reappeared, the little girl running ahead of her waddling mother. She climbed up her father's legs and plopped down onto his lap. "Papa, read a story."
"W'at story, petit?" Remy asked, putting his arm around her protectively.
Madeline didn't get a chance to answer. Just then, there was a knock on the boathouse door. Rogue started for it, but Remy stood up, still holding Madeline. "Sit down, chere," he told her. "We get it."
She put up no protest; her feet were aching worse than the town drunk's head on Sunday morning. "Thanks, sugah." With that, she eased herself down onto the couch, frowning at the rubber duck sitting on one arm of it.
"Doorbell goes 'ding-dong'," Madeline told him as he carried her towards it.
"Dat it does. Den we answer it, an' tell Uncle Scott t'go away…we not trainin' no more today."
"Go 'way, Unca Scott," she repeated.
"Dat's my girl." Remy reached the door and shifted Madeline into one arm in order to open it. Upon seeing the person on the stoop, he nearly dropped her. "Mon Dieu dans le ciel…" he breathed.
Logan leaned against the doorframe, covered in dried blood, sweat, and wounds that had yet to heal despite his formidable skin. He forced his head up and squinted through swollen, blackened eyes. "Storm…" he managed to say. "I'm home."
Remy watched, utterly stunned, as the battered man collapsed to the ground. Madeline's lower lip trembled as she watched her father's face. "Big man fell down, Papa."
He blinked. "Oui, petit. That he did."
****
Fini (see author's notes)
Author's Notes: See next chapter.
****
Unexpected
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
Life is strange, such joy and pain
The betrayal and the kiss
It may be meant to be, maybe destiny
Leads us down a path like this
A child is born, true love is sworn
And all the in-between
Well you just walk on, walk on until the path is gone
Learning love is the only everything
-Celeste Prince
****
One year later
"Papa." Madeline tugged on the leg of Remy's jeans. "Papa…Mama's tummy moves!"
Remy kneeled down to his two and a half year-old daughter's level and nodded. "Dat be your bébé brot'er, petit," he explained slowly. "He almos' ready t'come out an' meet you."
"Thank god…" Rogue muttered. She drew in a breath as the baby who'd been happily nestled in her belly for the past eight months kicked her sharply, apparently aware that he was being discussed. She was, by far, more anxious than even the future big sister to have the baby born.
"Baby brudder," Madeline repeated. She frowned, her perfect little face puckering up as she tried to reconcile the huge mound of her mother's stomach with the pictures she'd been shown of babies. After a second, she gave up and looked back at her father. "Gotta go potty."
"Ah'll take her," Rogue said, struggling to get off the couch. "Ah won' be able to move much longer." Despite her grumbling, she caught Remy's eye and winked. When she was standing, balancing somewhat precariously for her husband's liking, she reached down for Madeline's hand. Unless the person carrying her was her father, their daughter liked to walk on her own. She was an independent soul. "Come on, baby-girl."
Madeline looked up at her mother. "Not a baby, Mama."
"Not a baby," Rogue conceded. "But come on anyways, sugah."
Remy watched his two favorite females in the entire world make their way down the hall, heading for the bathroom. He sat back onto the sofa, preparing to enjoy the lingering warmth from his wife's body. However, something underneath him squeaked in protest, making him jump back up. Madeline's rubber duck. He pulled it out from between the couch cushions. How the hell had it gotten out of the bathroom? Remy shook his head. Now that Madeline was entirely mobile by herself, they found things in the strangest places. One of Rogue's gloves in the sink, a plastic juice cup underneath his pillow, she liked to move things, and try to hide them as best she could. There wasn't an inch of the boathouse that hadn't been child-proofed, but his daughter was clever and quick.
Had certain events turned out differently, and she'd come into his life when he was still with the Guild, she might have grown up to surpass even his thieving skills. Fortunately, she hadn't been, and she would never have to know the dangers of his former existence. Madeline could be anything she wanted to be; he was going to make sure of that. And with a little bit of Lady Luck's charm, his efforts with the team might create a world in which her inevitable mutant powers would be accepted and tolerated.
As he set aside the rubber duck, Remy was struck with the domesticity that had overtaken his life. The Ragin' Cajun had turned into a husband, a father, and a respected member of the X-Men…and he liked it. No one who'd known him in the past would have guessed it, but this was truly what he'd always wanted. He could fight and sweat and swear and blast things all day in the Danger Room or on a mission, but he came home at night to a little bit of himself with red curls trying to tell him about the exciting things she'd done that day with the few words in her vocabulary, and his soulmate giving him the coy smile he'd come to know as the "yer gonna get lucky tonigh' grin." Life was frighteningly close to perfection.
He heard the toilet flush, and a minute later Rogue and Madeline reappeared, the little girl running ahead of her waddling mother. She climbed up her father's legs and plopped down onto his lap. "Papa, read a story."
"W'at story, petit?" Remy asked, putting his arm around her protectively.
Madeline didn't get a chance to answer. Just then, there was a knock on the boathouse door. Rogue started for it, but Remy stood up, still holding Madeline. "Sit down, chere," he told her. "We get it."
She put up no protest; her feet were aching worse than the town drunk's head on Sunday morning. "Thanks, sugah." With that, she eased herself down onto the couch, frowning at the rubber duck sitting on one arm of it.
"Doorbell goes 'ding-dong'," Madeline told him as he carried her towards it.
"Dat it does. Den we answer it, an' tell Uncle Scott t'go away…we not trainin' no more today."
"Go 'way, Unca Scott," she repeated.
"Dat's my girl." Remy reached the door and shifted Madeline into one arm in order to open it. Upon seeing the person on the stoop, he nearly dropped her. "Mon Dieu dans le ciel…" he breathed.
Logan leaned against the doorframe, covered in dried blood, sweat, and wounds that had yet to heal despite his formidable skin. He forced his head up and squinted through swollen, blackened eyes. "Storm…" he managed to say. "I'm home."
Remy watched, utterly stunned, as the battered man collapsed to the ground. Madeline's lower lip trembled as she watched her father's face. "Big man fell down, Papa."
He blinked. "Oui, petit. That he did."
****
Fini (see author's notes)
