I do not own X-Men: Evolution and/or Marvel in any way, shape, or form. Please do not sue, for it will inevitably just be a waste of time and money in trying to find a suitable legal representative. Thank you.

Subsequent

Rogue sharply inhaled and held in her air as her baby's mouth and nose were suctioned out before she was rubbed down to stimulate the breathing of her non-functioning lungs. With tears flooding her squinted orbs, she looked down at Remy, so calm and serene—or so she thought. He was kneeling on the floor at the side of her bed, his chin resting near her thigh. He also had tears glistening in his eyes. Thinking no one was paying attention, he wiped them away.

Both were jubilant when an earsplitting cry sounded.

Without warning, Jaimie LeBeau was whisked away from her parents. Rogue's emerald green eyes followed her daughter's now actively moving body as she was laid on a pushcart and rolled down the hall, disappearing behind a corner. In another room, the baby would be administered a few tests before she could finally go on display.

The time seemed to go on forever, without end. Rogue had broken down a few times and her own sobs had lulled her to sleep. Remy had stood nearby, completely hushed and unmoving. She wished he would come over and comfort her, but the honest-for-real truth was... he needed comforting himself. To get his mind off of the horrifying thought of his daughter still being in potential danger, he shuffled his playing cards and paced back and forth across the room. Rogue observed him and turned away, becoming dizzy. Instead, she studied the uninteresting terrazzo tiling the floor.

Hank returned hours later; it was almost eight o'clock at night, and the sun was beginning to set behind the horizon. It was so beautiful, but at a moment like this, Rogue couldn't appreciate the magnificence and splendor. "Doc!" she exclaimed, sitting upright. "Is she okay? What about mah boys? How are they doin'?"

"It seems Jaimie's mouth and nose were clogged up. She wasn't able to breathe through all the gunk. But she'll be fine now... The boys are doing great. All their Apgar scores are good and high. Would you like to come and see them?"

Rogue nodded and let Remy help her down from the bed and into a wheelchair since her legs were still a bit wobbly and hard to stand on. Solemnly, the two followed behind Hank and made their way into a separate room where all the babies were being held. Their hearts jumped, happy at their daughter's sudden recovery and their boys' good health. The triplets lay together in one incubator, coexisting. Jaimie was screaming at the top of her lungs and kicking her stubby little legs. Chandler was much more peaceful, as he was sleeping—and through all the noise, too—and was completely silent except for the whoosh of his light breathing. Aubin's face, identical to Chandler's, was scrunched up. He seemed to be in pain... or getting rid of his waste.

"They're belle, chérie."

"Must be mah side of the family," Rogue joked.

-

"Shh, shh. Please, Ah beg of ya, be quiet... go ta sleep."

Rogue sat in her rocking chair, feeling quite hopeless and helpless. It was two in the morning on a Wednesday and between caring for the babies and her insomnia, she was hardly getting any sleep. Jaimie was laid out on her lap, Aubin slung over her shoulder, and Chandler resting in the crook of her arm after his feeding. All three babies were howling. She had tried feeding them, changing them, and singing to them, but nothing worked. Hank had diagnosed it as colic; this meant nothing would soothe them; this meant there was no cure.

She put them back in their cribs and let them cry. She then collapsed to the floor in a muddled heap. "Shut up!" she screamed, grabbing onto the bars of their bassinets and shaking them, making the noise more. "Ah hate ya! Ah wish Ah never had ya... Ah wish Ah was dead!"

-

"Frankly, Charles, I'm deeply concerned for her," Storm said, talking to the whole dinner table, discussing Rogue and the babies. "She hasn't eaten in days. I'll leave a tray for her and everyday, I come back and see it hasn't been touched in the least! She's as skinny as a stick, probably even smaller. And sometimes, I hear her crying. She goes on for hours at a time. She hardly ever comes out of the nursery, and when she does, she's like a zombie—lifeless. I really question her sanity at this point. She needs help... professional help."

"But she won't let anyone in. She locks the door, purposely trying to keep everyone out," Kitty spouted. She picked up her cloth napkin and wiped the spaghetti stains from her mouth. "I, like, offered to help and baby-sit for a while, but she thinks she's 'Super Mom' or something. She was like, 'I can do it. Just leave me alone. Get out. No one has faith in me. I can't believe you! I don't need you. You'll just be in the way. I'm fine.' Blah, blah, blah. She's not her normal self. I miss the old Rogue."

Logan slammed his fists down on the table. Gruffly, he suggested, "Let's just break down the door and drag her down here... make her sit here 'till she eats and tells us what's wrong."

"That won't work. She's not a minor anymore." Hank sighed. "I propose a calmer, more efficient solution... one that won't make her feel like a child. We sit her down and have a small talk about her strange behavior. This sounds like Postpartum Psychosis, a serious mental illness in post-pregnant women."

"How are we supposed to sit her down when she won't come out?"

"Like I said: break down the door!"

"I like Logan's plan."

"Yeah."

"Vait," Kurt said, turning to face Remy. "Have you tried, Gambit? She'll listen to you. Vhat better person than her husband?"

"It's not goin' t' work."

"Please. You're our last chance. Just try."

-

They had guessed correctly; the door to the nursery was locked, as usual. Kitty grabbed Remy's hand and phased them both through.

Remy's heart plummeted into darkness and desolation when he saw the three flesh-of-his-flesh laying in their cribs, unattended and screaming their little heads off. He could tell they had been wailing for a long time now, as their faces were incredibly red. The smell of feces and pee wafted through the air. He wanted to hurl.

He almost jumped when he heard a small whimper coming from the closet. He silently tiptoed over and opened the door, surprised to see Rogue sitting on the floor, repeatedly banging her head against the empty shoe rack. She looked a mess. Her hair was up in an untidy ponytail. Her face was stained with tears. Her clothing bagged, as she had lost an excessive amount of weight in the last week from practically starving herself.

'Stormy was right. De femme do look like a zombie.'

"Chère," he said cautiously. He went down onto his knees and held her. "Chère, are y' alright?"

"Don't touch meh!" she screamed, pushing him away.

"Ro—Marie, chère, listen t' Remy… Y' not y'self, chérie. What's wrong? Tell Remy. Everybody worried 'bout y'. Y' haven't been eatin' an' y' pushin' all de people who amour y' away. Here, let Remy help y' up."

"Let meh go!"

She fought him, pushing away and hitting him with all her might. But in the end, he was too strong for her. He held her in his arms, against his chest and she could feel and hear his heartbeat. The steady beating comforted her aching heart, and for the first time in days, she fell asleep and didn't have one single nightmare.

- Sad chappie, I now. Sorry for the cliffy last chapter. Almost everybody said I was evil... Maybe I am... MUHAHAHAH! Anyways, my little rant is over. So, Jaimie is fine. Would I really kill the only girl? But what's wrong with Rogue? Gotta wait until the next chapter to find out. Thanks for the reviews guys! You make me feel so special. xmengirlzrule signing out -