BENEATH THE SURFACE
Part Forty-Six
Six Months Later...
Remy LeBeau turned to take one last look of the building that for the past six months he'd been calling his temporary home. The pink stucco walls and large arched windows made it look more like an attractive five start desert resort rather than a psychiatric hospital. It certainly hadn't looked that way from the inside either.
He wasn't going to miss the heated indoor pool, nor the tennis courts that he had rarely made use of. He wasn't going to miss the gymnasium that he had practically lived in for two hours a day every day except Sundays. He wasn't going to miss the good meals, the barista style coffee and the homemade cakes that had damn near put twenty pounds on him the first two months during his treatment. He wasn't going to miss the extreme therapy, the being locked up at night, the being extensively antagonized and psychoanalysed until he was entirely truthful with all of his secrets about the past. He wasn't going to miss the hours spent trying to hone his new telekinetic abilities – not that he really had much even in six months. He wasn't going to the nurses who had been strict but caring. There was nothing he'd miss.
As he stared at the building, he couldn't help but find it miraculous that he had ever managed to stick it out. It was astounding to him that he'd endured the months of intensive therapy, of group sessions, the trust exercises, the daily excursions, the voluntary work in the nearby town of Haven Springs,
It had been agony but he'd gotten through every step of it.
He'd walked out more than once; arguments with staff and psychiatrists over his treatment, over the things he didn't want to speak of and the way he didn't want to do things. He'd get as far as the outskirts of town before he'd remember why he was there, before he'd remember what had put him there.
He'd never quite gotten the image of Rogue with that shard of mirror embedded in her stomach out of his head. Every night it was the last thing he thought of, his regrets that he hadn't been able to stop himself, that he'd let himself do that to anyone, especially her. It had been that thought as he'd been walking away which had really made him turn back, admit his stupidity and try to tough it out. It was the fear it could happen again, that he could let it happen.
There'd been times when he'd tried to make it to a phone to call her in desperation for her company, missing her so much he'd even broken into the administrator's office a few times and started to call but by the time he'd dialled the first four numbers of her cell, he had already lost the nerve, not sure what he'd say.
One time, during his third month and a very distressing time during his treatment, he had managed to dial the entire number, had made it as far to hearing her voice on the end of the line. All she'd said was 'hello? Who's there?'. He'd lost his nerve then, but the sound of her voice...it had reminded him of why he had to stay, why he had to endure it all and get better.
Every day on the calender in his room, he marked off the date with a red marker, the days had dragged initially, one week feeling like a month, a month feeling like a year. But then when April had come around, the tables had turned, and as the flowers in the gardens of the recovery centre began to bloom and burst into colour, suddenly time seemed to fly.
The last month had gone in what felt like a matter of days, and suddenly, as he stood there on the outside of the building with his tote bag full of clothing and a few of his crafted items from art therapy, he was on edge thinking that perhaps he wished he had a cigarette just to help ease the frustration and anxiety of the unknown. He thought stupidly of the clumpy clay ashtray he'd been forced to make in art therapy, the thing was hideous and looked more like a dust magnet than a useful object and the blue glaze had done little to give it any aesthetic value. That ashtray was going to mock him for the rest of his life now that they'd helped him quit smoking for good...it was also going to be a constant reminder of his time at the recovery centre, of sitting there making it. When he'd been asked why an ashtray, he'd never really elaborated why...it had been because of his previous session with their in-house psychiatrist in which he'd been talking about his childhood and had suddenly remembered even before the sexual abuse had started that Jean-Luc had thrown an ashtray at him. He'd made the clay ashtray without even really thinking it out, it had somehow just happened. He felt it to be significant enough to keep it...to let it harden and glaze it. There it was in his bag, a reminder of past unhappiness. A reminder never to smoke, because it had been that asshole and his abuse which had led him to starting the habit in the first place.
He sighed and turned towards the long drive; he was supposed to have been picked up already. He'd been waiting outside for some time now, and there was no sign of anyone.
Logan was supposed to pick him up; it was something he wasn't looking forward to. Not that he expected Logan would want to ask him what kind of things he'd been doing or how therapy had been. He'd already worked out in his head the things Logan was going to say. 'You look like shit' or 'finally you've scrubbed up a bit', and that would be it. There'd be small talk all the way home from Logan, Logan wasn't going to push him, not immediately. Remy had even worked out what he himself was going to ask Logan. About what his future was going to be at the institute, if he'd ever be on the X-Men, how soon he could get into training. How soon he could get into some kind of normal routine, get his life back.
But the first question...yes, it was definitely going to be how his wife was. If the woman ever planned on speaking to him again. Not for the first time since being taken to the recovery centre (he'd been unconscious for the entire four hour drive and had woken up there) he wondered if Rogue had assumed he'd abandoned her, if they had told her anything at all...if they had even tried to explain to her what had really happened.
Down the long drive he spied the tall wooden gates at the gatehouse beginning to slowly open. He saw the X-Men's black van easing it's way through – recognised it anywhere even though from the distance he couldn't see the license plates, and the van was as black and non-descript as vans came. He still knew it, couldn't mistake it for anything else. It was stopped, the security guard leaning into the passenger side window and speaking with the driver for a moment, and then waving the van to go forward.
I'm going home, Remy thought, a mix of excitement and dread about it. He was looking forward to seeing everyone, especially Rogue, but at the same time dreading it, dreading having to make the explanations, to talk her through everything he'd promised his therapists and psychiatrists that he was going to be completely honest about with her.
He was nervous about seeing her, afraid perhaps she'd grown out of love with him in six months of absence. He'd heard that absence helped the heart grow fonder, but what if that was a crock of shit she didn't believe in. What if she looked at him and felt nothing, had been in love with the mess he'd been in? It had worried him the entire time...what if she really just liked being needed, what if she felt now that he'd recovered that she no longer was?
The van eased it's way up the long drive and parked, the engine was cut.
Remy took a deep breath, waiting for Logan to get out, waiting for the expected grunt and level of disgust and comment about the past six months making him look like shit. His hair was unkempt and uncut, he hadn't shaven in nearly three weeks and he'd lost his tan over the winter, he looked less of himself than he had.
But he felt so much stronger mentally at least. There was time to work on the rest.
The door on the driver's side opened, Remy picked up his totebag and began the walk towards the van. Here goes nothin'.
It wasn't Rogue he expected to be when he turned the corner of the van but that's exactly who was there looking back at him.
It was strange how six months could change someone so much, her face was slightly softer, her colour strangely warmer, her makeup barely even there, and her clothing was quite loose. It struck him that she wasn't the type to usually wear jogging pants and loose fitting t-shirts and that even accentuated curves he'd never seen her with before. He couldn't help but notice she had gained quite a few pounds in the half a year since he'd seen her last but strangely he didn't feel the least bit resentful of it, her face was fuller, rounder, her eyes slightly puffy and tired. She was still beautiful, her eyes were still that incredible green, blended with hints of hazel and flecks of gold, rimmed with dark blue, her lips were still full, her chin still had that attractive cleft.
His heart still swelled, and his chest tightened at the sight of her, he was still for a moment not really knowing how to react or what to really even say at first. There were a lot of things he expected...to be smacked, to be yelled at. Perhaps that she'd come to tell him that this was the end of the road and that he should leave from here and find his own way in the world, never come to the institute at all.
But instead of all those things, his wife gave a nervous smile and stood there, he saw the glassiness in her eyes before the tears blurred them. Her lips were trembling.
He drew his breath at the sight of her, the bag dropping from his grasp, he felt so lost and in love still. Six months had not dulled it.
Rogue threw herself into his arms, letting out a stifled sob against his chest; he felt six months of frustration and absence cause him to make something of the same sound as he buried his hands in the thick fabric of her hooded sweatshirt that was slightly hanging off of her shoulders.
She smelled different; he couldn't place what the smell was but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. Her grip on him was fierce, hurting him a little but it felt good to feel the kind of pain that came from love rather than malice.
After a moment, he pushed her back a little so he could look at her, finding it so impossible to believe that after all this time she was there. "I wasn' sure if y' woul' ever wan' see me again..." He breathed nervously, he moved her hair delicately from her face, so careful not to let his skin graze hers.
"You look tired..." she blinked tears and rubbed a gloved hand against his cheek, sweeping what he realised was one of his own tears away from his face.
"I was up all night..." he confessed, "guess I was nervous 'bout comin' home..."
"Is...is everythin' all right now? Is...is it all over?" she stammered nervously, he felt her eyeing him all over, examining every part of his face, his hair, his unshaven jaw, the slight bulk of his body that had changed slightly with the steady workouts in the gym and the good nutrition and slight over-indulgence of cake.
Remy sighed, "not entirely...I got t' keep up appointments once a month wit' Dr. Forbes, part o' a follow up plan...but f' the mos' part...it's over..." he explained.
Rogue picked up his bag and moved to the back door of the van to put it there, "No more...hallucinations...?"
Remy leaned against the side of the van, "I guess Prof tol' y' about those."
Rogue closed the back door of the van, she gave a slow and careful nod, "You should have told me..."
"I couldn'," he admitted, looking away from her guiltily. It felt so surreal for this being brought up right here, right now. He'd wanted to wait for that discussion. "Every time I talked 'bout it, it got stronger...I guess...I made it stronger..." he looked away. "I'm sorry..."
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," she admitted.
"I want to...it's...all part o' everythin'...y' know...gettin' over it completely. It's jus'...this ain' a good place t' have that discussion..." he supposed. No, they really needed to be sitting down for that talk.
"We'll go somewhere and talk, okay?" she asked.
"Okay," he nodded.
She stared up at him, eyes still searching him, her expression almost hurt.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"It's...it's just so good to see you..." she explained, "Ah've missed you so much..."
"I've missed y' more..." he drew a breath, "I wrote y' letters every day but...I wasn' allowed t' send 'em 'cause o' this isolation rule. They say isolatin' from everythin' is the best way t' get in touch wit' y' self and what the cause of y' problems is. They called anythin' at home a distraction. The therapy here is unorthodox 'cause it ain' just workin' wit' mental health...it's workin' wit' mutant powers. They say isolatin' me was the best way t' do it..."
"And was it?"
"Can' say I agree," he admitted, "But...it kind o' made it easier t'...focus I guess..." he looked her up and down, "How's the...?" he touched her stomach gently.
"It healed," she interrupted, a strange frown on her face. She composed herself and straightened up, "isn't even a scar..."
"Y' don' know how...how sorry I am," he said nervously, his voice barely a breath, "I'm...I'm jus' so sorry...I..."
"Ah know it wasn't you," she brushed his hair from his eyes, "Ah know..."
"I was so scared I was gon' lose you..." his eyes blurred with tears, "ain' never been so scared my whole life...I wasn' even sure y' woul' wan' see me again after everythin'..."
"Ah'm here now..." she brushed away another of his tears.
"There's so much we got t' talk about..." he admitted, so suddenly eager to get it all out, to get past it all, to move on after all the time he'd spent focusing on the past and trying to hide from it.
"Ah know..." she nodded, "Ah have stuff Ah need to tell you about too..."
He took her hand, "let's go f' a walk firs'...these gardens is lovely right now...an' it'd be nice t' get things into the open before we take t' the road..."
"Wait..." she stopped him, "Ah...Ah can't leave the van unattended..."
"But-" he tried.
Rogue broke her hand away from him, "Remy...there's somethin' you need to know about..."
"Is...is somethin' goin' on? Is this the part where y' break up wit' me? That y' tel me somethin' happened while I was gone an' now everythin' is different?"
She put her hand on the side door of the van, "Ah'm not breakin' up with you," she replied, "But..." she looked to the ground, "Some...somethin' did happen while you were gone...and...everythin' is different."
"What?" he asked worriedly.
Rogue sighed quietly and pulled the sliding door to the van open, she moved aside to let him see inside.
Remy wasn't sure what he had expected to see, really. But whatever he had expected, it wasn't what was there. There was a small rear facing child's car seat secured in the back seat, and within it, there was an infant, a squished little face half obscured beneath a blue hand-knitted cap and the collar of a blue romper suit, lips puckered, the rest of the body covered in a hand-knitted blue popcorn stitch blanket.
He was taken aback, confusion swallowing him up, leaving him a little speechless. What had she done? Found it on the road in a basonette?
"He's two weeks old..." Rogue said quietly, her voice quiet, almost a whisper.
Remy speechlessly stared at the baby, still utterly bewildered. "I..." he tried, but fell silent. He wasn't sure what to say or do.
"Ah tried to get in touch with you to tell you," his wife managed, her voice slightly trembling. She reached in with her gloved hand and gently caressed the child's cheek with the backs of her fingers. "The staff wouldn't let me through to you...even when he was born..."
Remy couldn't tear his eyes away from the infant, his heart felt like it might have quickened, he wasn't certain what exactly this meant.
"He's...yours," Rogue said in a whisper, she chewed her lip.
"How..." he managed. "How...how...how?" he asked, it was the only word that kept playing over and over in his head. "How..."
"Ah guess a condom wasn't as protective as it should have been..." her eyes were on the baby, her gaze soft.
"I...oh..." he managed, not really sure how to accept that explanation. Life by accident. He wondered – and not for the first time - if his own life had been much the same way. It seemed to him it was the wrong time to be considering that.
"Ah know it comes as a shock," Rogue admitted as she began to unclip the belt securing the baby to the seat. "It was to me too. At first...Ah wasn't gonna go through with it," she carefully picked the baby up, he saw the jitters in her expression, her fear of hurting the baby, of being too rough with this fragile little thing in her hands. "Ah even took the first steps to try...you know..." she turned to look at him, "After you told me that you didn't want to be a father...and after you were startin' to fall apart a little, Ah was scared that this was gonna be what threw you over the edge. Ah was never gonna tell you...because Ah wanted to protect you..."
Remy gaped at her, the thought both hurt and stirred him in ways he hadn't realised it would. She'd have endured that kind of hurt for him? She'd have lived with that? How could anyone think of living with that and not be in some kind of turmoil? The thought was quite agonizing.
Rogue cradled the baby in her arms, "and then the night you stabbed me..."
Remy's brow furrowed, his eyes lifted to hers.
"We were all so certain there was no way the baby could survive...and after Ah'd taken the pill, there wasn't supposed to be no goin' back. Ah had to absorb Logan's powers to survive that whole accident thing with the shard of glass...over several days. We honestly thought the baby had died..."
Remy's eyes dropped back to the baby in her arms. Her baby.
His baby.
"The Professor said to me it's incrediblethat the baby could survive somethin' like that..." Rogue gazed down at her son.
Their son.
"He survived a natural childbirth...he can touch me...he's immune..." she kissed the baby's pink cheek. "He's a miracle..."
Remy raised his eyes to hers, nerves biting at every part of him. Seven months ago he might have felt the disgust enough to ask if she was sure the baby was his. Jean-Luc would have told him lies and tried to convince him otherwise. Now, Jean-Luc wasn't there to fill his head with malicious thought. He himself couldn't convince himself of anything horrible.
Rogue licked her lips, "Would...you like to hold him..."
"No..." he shook his head and stepped back.
Her eyes were full of hurt.
"What if I drop him..." he breathed, "he's...so tiny..."
"You won't drop him..." Rogue nodded towards the nearby bench, "sit down..."
"Chere...what if I hurt him?"
Rogue smiled a little, she gave a strange laugh and shook her head at him.
"What's..so funny?" he asked, nervously dropping down onto the bench, his breath coming out in anxious spurts. He was glad the bench was there because he honestly felt his legs had weakened from all that he'd learned.
"You...sound like Ah did two weeks ago when he was born...Ah barely held him for three days, Ah was so terrified of him..."
Remy felt completely helpless as she put the baby into his arms. He weighed barely anything at all, and yet Remy felt the intense weight of burden and responsibility sitting there in his arms.
Eighteen more years of it at least.
"He's...so small..." he managed nervously. He wasn't sure what to make of this entire situation. Ten minutes ago he'd been getting out of a recovery centre.
Now...now he was...
What was he?
A father...?
The thought made a tiny chill dance up his spine.
The baby whimpered in his arms, his tiny hand spread, tiny perfect hands with perfect little fingers and tiny impossibly perfect fingernails. And Remy was so afraid to breathe in case it caused the slightest shift in his body to unbalance the baby from his arms and cause him to topple.
"He only weighed seven pounds...he came out so easy...it hardly hurt at all...not as bad as Ah thought it was gonna," she admitted, she sat down at Remy's side on the bench, she removed the baby's cap so Remy could see the shock of fluffy sparse light brown hair. Rogue stroked the baby's hair gently with her finger, Remy watched her face the entire time, that wistful little expression on her face, the love in her eyes that once had been reserved for only him.
He read everything in Rogue's expression as if she were a book with large bold text on crisp white pages. She gazed at her son thinking he was beautiful, and perfect.
Remy dropped his gaze down to the child, the baby yawned and smacked the tiny lips together, the eyes opened a little and Remy saw the eyes were not like his and felt a sense of strange relief.
Rogue turned the tiny woollen cap around in her hands nervously, "Ah know you don't want to be a father...and Ah would never hold you to it. Even if you decide you want nothin' to do with either of us..." she stared down at the cap in her hands. "He's...never gonna be short of love...Ah'll love him for the both of us..."
"I jus'..." Remy felt his vision blur with the threat of tears, "What if I hurt him...?"
She turned to him, she let out the softest of sighs, "Remy...do you want to hurt him?"
Remy bit down on his lip, staring down at the baby, "I can't stand the thought..." he managed with a lump in his throat.
Rogue removed her gloves and she gently cupped the head of the child with her bare left hand. Remy watched, fascinated, watching her touch the skin of another was utterly staggering and near mesmerising. He'd never imagined seeing it with anyone, let alone this tiny little helpless thing in his arms. There was a swelling in his heart, radiating outward from his chest towards every part of him, his fingers tingled with it, a strange hot almost pleasant electricity. He observed as Rogue leaned down and gently brushed her lips against the baby's forehead.
She was right...everything was different. Everything had changed.
"He can't be mine..." Remy tried to force back the lump in his throat that seemed to be growing harder and harder to force away.
Rogue lifted her eyes to his, he felt her looking right at him, a questioning gaze. She wasn't sure if she was to take it as accusation or not.
"How can anythin' so perfect be anythin' t' do wit' me..." he swallowed hard, the lump caught and he had to swallow again.
She laughed a little, her laugh was nervous too, and it only made his heart hurt more, "he's not so perfect..." she sighed and shook her head at him, "just like you, his shit stinks."
Still cradling the child, Remy moved his hand upwards towards his a little, raising his eyes to meet hers, his fingers caressed her sleeve. He considered trying to touch her, just to know if somehow like her child he might have immunity too. Life was rarely ever that perfect though.
"Ah'm weaker than Ah was..." she said, "but you'll still feel it..." she warned, she took a deep breath, "Junior's immune...you won't be."
He frowned a little, raising an eyebrow at her, he forgot his attempt to touch her entirely at this revelation, "Junior..."
"It's less confusin'..." she leaned into him a little, smirking, "everyone at home calls him RJ..."
"RJ?" he blinked.
"Remy Junior."
"Y'...named him after me," he whispered, staring at her, caught between the surprise of learning what the baby's name was and the thought of everyone at home. Remy had forgotten about everyone; all of a sudden, when he'd seen the baby, it seemed nothing had existed past him and his wife.
"Ah looked at him and knew it was his name, Sugar," Rogue's eyes danced with happiness. He'd never seen her eyes like that, that glimmer and brightness. God, why couldn't he have brought that to her like the baby did?
"What did..." he choked back his emotions, "What'd they say about this...?"
"They were confused...Ah had to come clean about us...about how it really was..." she gently brushed her thumb across Junior's fine light brown hair, "Ah never told them why we married...Ah never told them why you're here...but Ah told them all about our relationship...they...took it...somewhat well."
"What do they think happened?"
"They think you're in a recovery centre for strugglin' mutants...the Professor hates lyin' but he made up this fantastic lie about how your powers went out of control and you needed to be isolated before you hurt someone...that Ah had gotten hurt from your powers...no one got to see me until Ah'd healed...no one ever knew what happened that night other than the few who were involved..."
Remy supposed it wasn't too far from the truth that he'd been sent to a recovery centre for mutants. He had been struggling with the power he hadn't known he'd had, amongst other things. He gazed down at the baby, sighing deeply, "I wish I'd known..."
"Ah wasn't sure how you'd react...Ah was so scared it would hurt you...Ah know it has..." she swallowed back a lump of emotion herself, "Ah see it in your eyes that it's hurt you..."
He couldn't deny that right now, he felt incredibly hurt that all this had been kept from him, he couldn't deny it hurt to have been practically lied to. But hadn't he lied to her? Withheld from her? He remembered the deal they'd made with each other...about how they were allowed to keep secrets as long as it wasn't about infidelity. If she hadn't lied, he wondered how much worse things might have been, how much more he might have broken down.
And this...was it really a secret?
It didn't seem so much a secret as...he supposed a surprise.
Half an hour ago he'd been an outpatient on release. Now...now he was a husband and a father.
Eleven months ago, when Jean-Luc had told him he'd be marrying Bella Donna, he'd never wanted to be either. He'd ran from it...
And right now...wasn't she giving him the same option now?
Remy couldn't take his eyes from the little boy in his arms, so tiny and light...a little branch of the tree of his strange life. So new.
And fragile. So incredibly fragile.
"He's so beautiful..." Remy whispered without realising it, he bit hard on his cheek somehow wondering if he may wake up in his recovery centre bed having dreamt it all. "They always said babies look like the people who made 'em an'...I always thought they was talkin' shit but..." he grunted, "he looks like you...like...a squished up...pink an' tiny version o' you..." he shook his head, "except he ain' got y' hair..."
Rogue snorted, "weird...'cause everyone says he's a lil' clone of you..."
Remy blinked and turned to look at her, "they said that..."
"Kitty says he has that smug little look you get when you've said somethin' rude..."
Remy couldn't see it himself, all he saw was a vision of her, the closer he looked, the more he saw her in little Junior. "He has y' eyes...y' lips..." he tilted his head and sighed, "the same expression y' have when y' sleep..." he met her eyes; her gaze was soft as she looked back at him.
He leaned closer to breathe in the scent of her; now he understood what it was, it was the smell of the baby, of ointments and perhaps talcum powders and maybe the tiniest hint of milky vomit. He couldn't definite it entirely but the scent of motherhood was upon her and there was something incredibly appealing about it.
Rogue tilted her head near to his, her eyes searching his, "Ah don't want to hurt you..." she whispered, her lips were close to his, her hand was supporting his arm as he cradled the baby.
He inched closer, "y' never coul'..."
The sound of a loud phone ringing interrupted them as their lips almost brushed; Rogue jumped a little and groaned, "Ah was supposed to call when Ah got here. Ah guess they tracked the GPS and saw Ah've been parked for quite a bit now..." she picked her phone up, "give me a moment..."
"I..." he looked up at her, watching as she walked away from him. "What about the...baby?" he asked in a tiny voice, but she'd already walked towards the van so she could talk privately with whomever was on the other end of the line; he was almost certain he heard her say 'yes, Logan, Ah'm here', although it had been distant and quiet.
Remy dropped his eyes to Junior, finding the name slightly as ridiculous as RJ. He couldn't quite think of him as Remy either, yet. He chewed his slightly chapped bottom lip, eyes locked to the face of the yawning baby. Months had gone by and Rogue had held her silence...she'd have been a few months pregnant even before he'd been carted off to the recovery centre.
Remy licked his lips and sighed softly, thinking of how Rogue must have been so scared during her pregnancy, and so alone, even with all the others at her side. Rogue always held her fear on the inside, and showed her strength regardless. How scared had she been really?
Junior stretched a little, for such a tiny thing he was so strong, little legs kicking outwards a little, he felt it against the inside of his elbow.
Look at him, Remy tilted his head, he couldn't help thinking the child was like a full moon on a clear night. Just as Rogue had always seemed to him. Beautiful and magnetic, a pull he couldn't resist, couldn't tear his eyes from. He mus' be the mos' delicate thing I ever touch...like tryin' t' hol' butterfly wings.
"Remy..."
He raised his eyes to Rogue, she was switching off her phone, "Uh huh?" he asked, his voice thick.
"You okay?"
"Yeah...I'm fine," he managed meekly.
"Ah've told Logan that we're gonna take a while gettin' home..." Rogue admitted, "is...there any way you think this place might let me use their restroom?"
"Restroom..." he repeated.
"These days my bladder is a lil'...sensitive," she winced.
"Sure...Uhm..." he swallowed, "y' go int' the reception back there an' ask...sure they let y' use the staff one...jus' say y' my wife an' tell 'em y' real name, they probably won' even make y' sign in."
"Ah won't be long..." she promised.
Remy gaped, "y' ain' gon' leave..." he tried but she'd already awkwardly ran off towards the building; he supposed her bladder waited for no baby to be handed to her. It had been one thing when she'd been standing near the van taking a phone call with him several feet away, but now...
Now I'm alone...wit' a baby, he thought in panic.
It was almost as if the baby sensed Rogue had left him; hewhimpered a little at first, it came out quiet and unsure, and then another, and suddenly he was wailing. Remy had heard that sound before, the absolute yowling that he'd heard babies in airports, malls and train stations make...the sound that used to make him grit his teeth and wince in utter disgust.
Now it was heart wrenching, to hear it come from this child. From his child.
"No...no no..." Remy whispered helplessly, "don' cry..." he looked around almost hoping some member of staff would have come out to investigate the baby cries, that someone would know how to soothe a baby. He tried making sshing sounds but that didn't quite work, it seemed to only encourage the ear-splitting shrieking.
It was so soul destroying to hear that crying and feel helpless to do anything to stop it. To feel almost responsible for it, wondering if perhaps little Junior had realised that this bad man his mother had once known was holding him and sensed danger.
"I know I'm a strange man...y' don' know me...and y' mus' be scared 'cause y' might have heard bad things 'bout me...but I ain' gon' hurt y'..." Remy awkwardly moved the baby a little, to lift him to his shoulder, cradling the tiny head, trying to not be deafened by the crying near his ear. "I'd never hurt y'...sssh...I ain' like him, Y' safe..." he drew his breath. The howling wouldn't stop, it got louder and louder, and Remy began to fear someone was going to think he was trying to murder the child.
In an act of utter desperation, Remy shakily began singing. It was the only song that came to mind, the same song that he'd danced to Rogue on the night of their wedding.
"Fairy tales can come true...it can happen to you
If you're young at heart
For it's hard you will find, if you're narrow at mind
If you're young at heart
You can go to extremes with impossible schemes
You can laugh when your dreams fall apart at the seams
And life gets more exciting with each passing day
And love is either in your heart or on it's way...
Don't you know that it's worth every treasure on earth
To be young at heart
For as rich as you are, it's much better by far
To be young at heart
And if you should survive to a hundred and five
Look at all you'll derive out of being alive
And here is the best part...you have a head start
If you are among the very young at heart..." he rocked the baby gently, his voice a whispery and quite off-key lullaby, the baby beginning to calm; Remy wasn't sure if it was the song or his gentle rocking motion, but something seemed to do it.
A soft crunch against the gravel path caught his attention, and he turned slowly to look at his wife, who was standing there, a strange smile on her face.
"I..." he felt his cheeks flush with uneasy embarrassment, realising she must have seen and heard. That was slightly humiliating. "He...he was cryin'..."
"Ah know," Rogue said softly.
"I..." he tried to explain but couldn't.
"You were singin'...to your son..." Rogue moved closer, slow easy steps, she looked tired and worn. He supposed motherhood was the culprit. There'd probably been late night feedings and howling keeping her up at all hours.
"My son..." he whispered, it sounding like alien words.
"We should go...it's a long drive..." Rogue admitted, "there's a diner about a hour away, we'll stop and get some food...and Junior's due a feed then..." she explained, she moved over to him and took the baby from him, it was strange how suddenly cold and empty armed he felt when Junior had been removed from him, he looked at her almost accusingly. Why was she just taking him away from him after he'd just been given him? He felt suddenly like the child he'd been in the orphanage when the nuns had taken away the toy he'd been given because he'd said something bad (apparently saying Jesus was probably a zombie wasn't the right thing to say). This felt the same.
Like punishment.
He stood up, following her quickly to the van to watch as she put the baby in the car seat and secured him, "Is...is he all right in that car seat, is it safe?"
"Logan installed it, he checked it...he said it's safe...believe me, Logan isn't about to let me drive with an unsafe car seat..." Rogue put a blanket over the baby, put his woollen cap on his tiny head, and then closed the door, leaving Remy standing at the sliding door with his hands pressed against it, gazing in through the glass at the tiny infant. "Are you comin'?" she asked.
"Yeah...I...yeah."
End of Part Forty-Six
Admit it, who's shocked? (Other than ishandahalf who pretty much predicted it, lol, I was like DAMN, someone had to predict it! I wanted it to be a surprise, lol). Admittedly originally there wasn't going to be a baby at the end of this story, and then I was writing this chapter and suddenly found myself typing Rogue opening the door and showing Remy his son...and it seemed to fit. It's cliché, I know. "Junior", I don't know why that fit either with be, buuuuuuuut anyway.
Thanks to all as always for their amazing reviews! You're all awesome (more to come very shortly). The end is nigh!