Chapter 3: Gabrielle

             The rest of dinner went without much mention of Jared or Carmel – thankfully.  They soon found themselves digging spoons half heartedly into their desserts, Rogue had the feeling that Remy definitely wasn't having a good time.

             "What's wrong?" she asked, she noticed he'd been quiet for some moments, he'd barely touched his gateaux. 

             "Nothin'," he said, he took a small bite.

             Rogue sipped her soda, "you can't fool me, I've known you too long, you have things on your mind," she said, "don't tell me you're still blue about being twenty-one."

             Remy shrugged, "I don't know why, I mean most guys would be thrilled," he sighed, "but me?  I didn't wanna grow old so fast, I had my whole childhood taken from me…I've never been able to just be a kid, y'know."

             "Remy, you are a kid.  Twenty-one isn't the beginning of the end," Rogue rolled her eyes.

             Remy dug his spoon into his gateaux, and sighed, "I guess."

             Rogue watched him, he looked depressed, she couldn't figure out why, everything recently seemed to be going his way, he'd stopped the robberies at the Muir Island research centre, he had her back, and he was back with the X-Men, what could possibly be making him sad?  "C'mon, LeBeau, smile…you've been miserable this whole night, its your birthday, you're meant to be living it up," Rogue said.  She felt guilt spreading through her like disease, she hadn't made much effort to keep his interest tonight.

             He feigned a smile, "I'm not miserable, I'm just…I don't know, drained," she sighed, he pushed his dessert away, "I'm not so hungry," he sighed.

             Rogue looked at him, "it's not like you to be so unenthusiastic," she admitted.  "And why are you smoking again?  You're not meant to…Hank's orders, remember?"

             "I know," he sighed, "I'm gonna quit…soon…I'm just…god, I don't know," he stood up, "I need some air…excuse me."

             Remy rushed out of the restaurant, leaving Rogue at the table, he felt terribly foolish, he couldn't understand what was going on.  His emotions came bubbling to the surface, he felt anger and depression cloud him all at once, he leaned against the wall outside putting a hand to his head. 

             Calm down, LeBeau, calm down, he told himself.  He waited moments, taking in deep breaths, trying to pull himself together.

             "Hey…"

             Remy turned to his side, Rogue had come out of the door, carrying her coat and his, he looked at her, feigning a smile, "I'm sorry…" he trailed off, "I just felt like I was going to be sick," he lied, "just needed a little air is all…"

             Rogue handed him his coat"it's fine," she assured, "dinner is paid for, and we have our jackets, do you wanna go home?  Maybe you need an early night…"

             "No…" he sighed, "not yet…jesus, I'm sorry, this is meant to be a date, I'm screwing it up…I'm so sorry…please give me another chance," he looked at her pleadingly.

             Rogue tilted her head to the side, "you've done nothing wrong, its not your fault that you're feelin' a little blue, Remy," she pulled on her jacket, "c'mon, lets go for a walk, then, burn off dinner."
             "Fine by me," he nodded, he pulled on his long black leather trenchcoat, and pulled the collar up a little.  They walked side by side, not touching, not holding hands, neither looking at each other.

             "You sure you're alright?" Rogue asked, she looked up as a light rain had begun to sprinkle down from the sky upon them, she felt it pelt her bare face softly.

             "I'm fine," he assured, "Just tired, I guess."
             "How much more you gonna use that excuse, Monsieur LeBeau?" Rogue raised an eyebrow, he'd used the excuse so many times tonight already that he said it before she'd even finished asking if he was really alright.

             "Until you believe it," He took his cigarettes from his pocket, and lit one up, exhaling a small puff of smoke that disappeared into the rainy sky.

             "Where's the tobacco tin I gave you?" Rogue asked worriedly, only just having realised she hadn't seen him use it in a very long time.

             "In my nightstand next to your necklace," he answered calmly, he wiped some of the rain-water from his face.

             Rogue stopped him, "is there some reason you're not using it?"

             "When you're wearin' the necklace, I'll use it again," he confirmed, he looked back at her, his eyes finding hers.

             Rogue fixed the collar of his coat a little, "how's your back holding up?" she asked, she knew he was still in pain, as much as she could see he tried to hide it at the best of times, she saw it every time he tried to get up, or sit down.

             "Fine, for now," he said, "I took a painkiller when you were in the bathroom."

             "You're chasing strong painkillers with alcohol, Jesus, that's like the least responsible thing you could do," she looked at him.

             He shrugged, "gets me through."

             "There are interactions though, you know what could happen."

             "I know," he said, "But that's my chance to take, and you shouldn't worry about it," he assured.

             "How could I not?" Rogue gripped the collar of his coat in an almost fierce desperate way, "if anythin' happened to you—"

             Remy looked at her, "you'd get by."

             "Don't say that," Rogue stepped closer, she let go of his collar and took a hold of his face, "don't ever say that to me.  What you did last night freaked me out enough…now you're talkin' about death like it just doesn't matter, and it does…" Rogue looked at him.

             Remy closed his eyes, pressing his cheek into her right hand, "sorry.  I've become such a morose asshole since comin' back from Muir Island.  Must be the gloomy Scottish weather or something," he feigned a smile.

             Rogue stood on the tiptoes of her platform boots, their lips nearly touching, "bein' morose is my job, you just concentrate on bein' the sexy, suave Cajun I know and love…" she leaned a little closer, their lips were so close.

             A spark jumped from between them, a small crackling sound and a small flash of light appeared as if from nowhere, Remy leapt back from her, it felt as if his mouth had been shocked, he put his hand to his mouth, "Ow…"

             Rogue copied him, "what the hell was that?" she asked in total shock, it had been the least thing she'd expected at that particular moment.

             "A spark…" he trailed off, he looked about as confused as Rogue did, "how did you do that?"

             "I didn't!" Rogue rubbed her lips, "you did!"

             "No I didn't…don't you think I'd know if it was me?" he pursed his lips together in pain.

             "Maybe it was your power."

             "Don't be stupid, I can't charge the air, Chere," he reminded firmly, "and I think I'd know if I was usin' my powers…" he added.

             Rogue raised an eyebrow, "wasn't me…"

             "Maybe just a slight charge in the air or maybe from the clothes we're wearin' or something…" he shrugged.  "Happens."

             "But it was our lips…"

             Remy shrugged, "I don't know…are we going to dwell on it all night, or keep walkin'?"

             Rogue shrugged too, "I guess we keep walkin'," she reached for his hand.

             Remy slipped his hand into hers and they walked slowly for some time along the quiet dark streets.  "Where'd you wanna go?" he asked.

             A silence between them, Rogue sighed, "where do you want to go?"

             "No idea," Remy shrugged.

             Rogue looked at him, "do you wanna go see her…" she trailed off.

             Remy was confused, and he stopped, to look at her, "See who?" he asked softly.

             "Who do you think, Remy," Rogue sighed, "Your daughter."

             Remy looked away, "I…I haven't been back there…" he mumbled, just the mention of his daughter brought emotions flooding back to him, his eyes teared up for a moment.

             "Maybe it'll make you feel better, Remy…" Rogue looked at him, "do you want to?"

             Remy paused a moment, thinking deeply about it, "Yes."

             Rogue had been standing for some time watching him from far away, he'd gone into the graveyard alone, and had asked her not to follow, but she couldn't help but go after half an hour of him not having returned.  She'd sat in the Van they'd taken for the evening, the rain was pelting down heavier and she was concerned if Remy stayed out much longer he might become ill.  She stood a few feet from his back, the heavy rain thudding against the grass and the gravestones, and Remy sat folded legged on a grave, in front of a small marble gravestone that read the name 'Gabrielle LeBeau' in flourished lettering.   Rogue was reminded vividly of the night in the hospital waiting room when Remy had come in and announced his daughter had been stillborn.  She'd never seen Remy so devastated.

             Remy's hair was soaking, hanging down, plastered to the collar of his leather trenchcoat, Rogue stepped over, placing her hand upon his shoulder.

             He glanced up, "I asked you to wait outside the gates."

             "I know," Rogue said, "couldn't sit in the van waitin' much longer," she explained, "was worried about you," she said, she sat slowly on the wet grass, wincing at how cold it was under her bare thighs.

             Remy glanced back towards the gravestone, his expression melancholy, water dripping down his face, "funny, isn't it?  How life turns out…my daughter didn't even get to breathe air before she died…" he sighed, "didn't even get to start livin', didn't get to see me…or Belle…didn't get to open her eyes…"

             Rogue could see that if it weren't for the rain, there would be tears visibly streaming down the young man's face, "Some things…just aren't meant to be."

             Remy looked back at Rogue, "be honest, Chere, if Gabrielle hadn't died…where would me and you be?"

             "I can't say," Rogue shrugged, "I honestly don't know…I'd…be a really bad mother, even as a substitute for the real thing…"

             Remy bit into his bottom lip as he glanced back to the headstone.

             "But…for you, I would have tried…" she said.  "Why did you call her Gabrielle?" Rogue asked softly.

             "T'was my mother's name…" he sighed, "my…real…mother."

             Rogue looked at him, "What?  I thought you didn't know who your real parents were…"

             "It's all I remember is that my real mothers name was Gabrielle…don't even remember her face, but I remember the name so clearly…it was all I held onto regarding my parents," he explained.

             Rogue put her arm around Remy slowly, sliding closer, she rested her head upon his shoulder.

             "I'm not a religious man, chere," Remy picked at some grass with his left hand absently, "but after survivin' down in that tunnel when I accidentally caused that explosion…I sometimes wonder if I don't have angel's watchin' down over me…and…if that's so…was Gabrielle one of them."

             Rogue looked at him, it seemed so strange that Remy would talk about Angels and heaven, she'd never heard him make a comment like it before, she'd never known him to have beliefs of such.  "I'm sure…she was," Rogue said, the words felt strange on her tongue. 

             Remy sighed, "Y'know…my life was gonna be so different if Gabrielle had lived…I was gonna be the perfect father, the father I never really had…I was gonna give her everythin', let her make her own choices…like I never could."

             Rogue looked at him, "Remy…" she murmured, "you can't dwell on that forever…it's not healthy…"

             "So you're saying I should just forget?" he stood up slowly wincing at the pain.  "How could I just forget?  That child in that grave is part of me…" he gestured to the grave.

             "I'm not saying you should forget," Rogue stood too, "But…you can't keep letting yourself think about it and be hurt by it…feelin' guilty about it…" Rogue said, "Gabrielle wouldn't have wanted it that way…" she said.

             Remy looked away, "you wouldn't understand how it feels, Chere…you never lost a baby..."

             "Maybe I wouldn't understand," Rogue sighed admittedly, "but…if this had been the other way around and it had been me lost a baby, you'd be tellin' me the same thing."

             "Probably…" Remy swept his soaking wet hair from his face.  "Still can't get over it though," he sighed, "still can't…just…accept it."

             "You will, in time…" Rogue looked at him, "and I'll help you, I promise…c'mon, we need to get out of this rain…"