Chapter Five – I Hope So

Jessie entered Mr. LeBeau's room quietly, peeking her head around the door before stepping in and switching the overhead light on. The room was uncannily cold; she saw her breath mist as she sighed and looked around. There was a smell of disinfectant in the air, not particularly unpleasant but noticeable. It seemed to mask several other smells that she couldn't place, but the strange slightly cleaner patches on the carpet seemed to suggest someone had spilled something nasty there and the smell had still lingered.

She moved over to his dresser; his colognes were there, all set out, barely ever used; the names on the bottle she couldn't even read or pronounce, but she picked them up and popped the lids off to smell them before placing them back where they had been; a film of dust gave her the template of where they properly belonged.

There was a photo on the mirror; she had to stand on her tiptoes to take a better look. It was old, and slightly crinkled at one end. Mr. LeBeau and Rogue were in it, he had his arm around her and he was smiling his most genuine happy smile. He was wearing a dapper black suit and Rogue was in a dress that reminded Jessie of the colour of the scab on her elbow from when she'd fallen down on the a few days before.

Rogue looked so different – and young! Her hair was short and cut to her shoulders, the white in hair made the cut seem very edgy. Her eyes were dark, dusted and her lips a deep red, and her smile didn't seem as genuine as Mr. LeBeau's. She seemed worried, or maybe it was just the way the photo had been taken that made it seem so.

Jessie reached up, standing on her tiptoes, and she took the photo down from the mirror and examined it closer. She hadn't realised that they both had been together for such a long time. She'd become so distracted with looking at the picture, she hadn't heard a soft footstep beside her.

"My seventeenth birthday."

Jessie jumped, and dropped the photograph to the floor; she spun around to look at Rogue, who had quietly stepped into the room.

Rogue knelt down on the floor to pick up the photo, "sorry, didn't mean to startle you," she said softly.

Looking down to the floor guilty, Jessie pressed her toe into the carpet anxiously, "am I in trouble?"

"No," said Rogue. "I mean...you shouldn't be sneaking about peoples bedrooms when they're not home but...I don't think Remy would mind..." she confessed. She sat upon the edge of the bed. "Why are you in here?"

"I just wanted to..."

"Be near him somehow," Rogue finished for her, her tone more tender than Jessie had ever known it to be before.

"It's not the same here without him," Jessie confessed.

Rogue stared down at the photo, she ran her gloved fingers across the image of Remy, "no...it's not," she agreed.

"It's a very nice photo," Jessie admitted honestly.

Smiling, Rogue nodded, "yes. There aren't many of us, but this is...a reasonably nice one."

Feeling a little more at ease now that she wasn't in trouble, Jessie moved over to the bed and sat beside Rogue, she wasn't sure what else to say; she felt terribly awkward in the presence of the woman.

"It was my seventeenth birthday – we were in Scotland," Rogue explained.

"Wow...that's just...ten years older-er than me."

"Yes..." nodded Rogue.

Jessie took the photo from her and looked at it closer. She wondered if in ten years she might look like the Rogue in the photo, beautiful, slim, exquisitely dressed. It occurred to her that Rogue must have been a very different person when these photos were taken – she wasn't pale like this anymore, and didn't wear makeup like that. Even the way she wore her hair was so different; it was as if the woman had become softer and more feminine than the girl she'd so long ago.

And what of Mr. LeBeau? What had he really been like? He almost looked the same, except from the face, which was fuller, his jaw less sharp, his nose less bony.

"What was he like then?" Jessie asked after a moment.

"Different," Rogue said, her voice dropped. "And yet...the same."

It wasn't the answer she'd hoped for, but it would have to do. "You love him a lot," Jessie said; she could see the love in the woman's eyes.

Rogue smiled to herself, her eyes distant and she seemed to be thinking of happier times.

"How long ago was this?" Jessie asked, gesturing to the photo. She wasn't sure how long ago it had been that Rogue had been seventeen years old. Not that Rogue looked old, but she was thinner in the face and slightly wiser in the eyes than the pretty gothic girl in the picture.

"Seven years ago."

"I wasn't even born yet..." Jessie realised.

"No, you weren't.

"Had Gabrielle been born?" Jessie asked quietly.

Rogue was silent for several moments; she seemed genuinely surprised that it had been brought up. Jessie momentarily wondered if perhaps the woman was going to change the subject.

"Yes. It was a month after Gabrielle had been born," Rogue answered softly.

"Did she really die while being born?"

"Did Remy tell you about that?"

"No. I heard it," Jessie replied, feeling slightly embarrassed to have brought it up now.

Silent for some moment, Rogue reflected on the question, her eyes were glassy for a moment, then she sniffed and took a deep breath, "yes," she simply answered.

Jessie as overwhelmed with sadness; no wonder Mr. LeBeau hadn't wanted to be the one to take care of her when Miss Pryde had gone into labour. It must have reminded him of the tragedy.

"Who was Gabrielle's mother?" Jessie asked.

Rogue seemed startled by this question, "It doesn't really matter, sugar. She's not around anymore."

"Did she die?"

"No, I don't think so. She left."

"Did you and Mr. LeBeau fall in love after that?"

More silence, Rogue seemed almost baffled and awkward now: Jessie wasn't sure what she'd said wrong exactly that seemed to fluster her so much.

"No...we've been in love since I was sixteen..."

"So how did--" Jessie began. She'd wanted to ask how Gabrielle had been born if Rogue and Mr. LeBeau had been in love and together. How could a third lady be involved.

"It's very complicated," Rogue answered. "And not for me to say – and I don't think you should ask Remy either. It's not something he really wants to remember...do you understand."

"Okay," Jessie agreed. "Can I ask just one more question?"

Rogue had to think about this but finally, she nodded.

"He really is coming back isn't he?"

Her eyes were full of adult worry, her lip quivered just a little before she spoke, "I hope so."