Author's Note: So, here it is. The last chapter of the story. I hope you've enjoyed it so far, and I really hope you enjoy the story.
They were able to bring Remy home from the hospital three weeks later, much to Rogue's relief. For one, they would actually be back in their own beds, which was a relief for Rogue because that hospital cot was about the most uncomfortable thing that she had ever slept on. But mostly, she was ready to be back where she didn't have to walk on eggshells all the time. Everyone was wanting to comfort her—touch her hand, pat her arm—and she couldn't let them because she might drain them dry. It would be nice to be back where everyone knew about her mutation and she wasn't having to explain it every five minutes. It would be nice to be back home where no one was afraid of her.
She was also ready to have her privacy. There wasn't enough of it at the hospital. Someone was constantly outside Remy's room, watching them. There was police protection for a bit, plus whoever Logan had stationed outside the door. It was always the most entertaining for Rogue when it was Kurt or Kitty, but they weren't around often. Logan still found them a tad too immature, no matter how entertaining they were. But she was ready to be able to be alone in her room (or in his room) away from the prying eyes of the rest of the world.
Remy was ready to go home, but not exactly ready to be wheeled out of the hospital in a wheel chair. His feet were healing nicely—which was a small miracle in itself—as were his hands. The doctors said that he was lucky to still have full use of his hands, but that he might have a limp. When they explained this to him, he only smiled at Rogue, knowing that one day that limp would disappear. However, he still had crutches that kept him from his usual catlike grace. It didn't help that his chest was still hurting him.
But what really mattered now was that they were home. They were back at the Institute, and it didn't matter that he had to be wheeled out in a wheelchair or that he was on crutches or that he couldn't get enough alone time with Rogue to take advantage of her "ask me anything" offer. His mind was full of questions for her, and he was ready to take full advantage of her offer. She was ready to be alone with him for the first time since their kidnapping and she was ready to tell him anything and everything he wanted to know.
Three days after they returned home, Rogue crept into Remy's room well after curfew. He was lounging on his bed, shirtless. In the faint light of the room, she could see "M" shaped scar on his chest from where they had branded him. She could also see the grin on his face and the glow of his red eyes.
"'Bout time 'y got here, chere. Remy's been waitin' fo' 'y."
"Waiting for meh, huh? Yah shoulda told meh. Ah'm not a mind reader," she answered with a tired grin. She had just come from a training session with Professor X, and it had left her completely exhausted and totally frustrated. She wanted to control her power so badly, and it seemed to get closer with each session, but then she always fell short. The concentration required left her completely exhausted.
"Tired?" he asked.
"A little. Ah feel so close tah finally bein' able tah control it, but it keep slippin' rahght through mah fingers…so tah speak."
"Mmm…well, Remy's t'inkin' 'dat 'y won't slip though his fingers. Come here," he said, holding out his gloved and splinted hands. She crossed the room quickly, not needing a second invitation. His hands slid around her waist as he pulled her close to him, though she took special care to avoid skin to skin contact. She quickly pulled away and perched on the edge of his bed, his hands lingering on her waist. "Now, 'y got some explainin' tah do. 'Y said Ah could have answers."
"Ah did. Ask away."
"What's y're favorite color?"
"Green. A lotta people think it's black, but Ah'm really a fan of green. And purple's pretty nice. Ah think it brings out mah eyes."
As a reward for her answer, Remy brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. She shivered in response and he grinned roguishly. "What's wid 'de goth thing?"
"When Ah was growin' up, Irene—the woman that raised meh—told meh Ah had a skin condition and had tah keep all mah skin covered. In the South, especially durin' the summer, that kinda limits yah're options. Ah guess Ah became what everyone though Ah was."
"Do 'y think that 'y would ever wear anything else if 'y got control o' y're powers?" he asked, his imagination already going in an, er, interesting direction.
"Of course. Shorts in the summer. Short sleeves…it would be wonderful."
"What about nahght clothes?"
"What about 'em?" she asked, knowing exactly where this was going.
"What do 'y wear tah bed?"
"Pajamas," she answered, intentionally innocent.
"Used to be pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Now it's a gown."
"A gown? A short gown?"
She smiled mischievously. "It makes Jean's look long." Remembering Jean's short, blue gown, Remy smiled.
"What 'bout 'y're gloves? Cotton o' silk?"
"Cotton for daywear. Silk gets hard tah wash, though it does feel lovely. These are silk," she said, touching the side of his face. The feel of the silk gloves was incredible—soft and smooth—but he would rather be able to touch her skin. His hands slipped lower and into the waistband of her pants, wishing she was wearing one of her tiny nightgowns. He felt the thin elastic waistband of her panties and began to toy with them. After a moment, he began trying to push her pants off her hips.
"And these?" he asked.
"Lace," she answered breathlessly. She squirmed as he pulled them lower. "And taking them off is probably not the best idea right now."
"Sure it is," he said, continuing his motions. With a sigh, she stood and finished his work for him, though shyly. Standing there in her panties and shirt, she looked beautiful—not that she wasn't beautiful all the time, but this was a Rogue that no one else got to see, and that she trusted him that much was an honor.
"Do 'y love meh?" he asked, just wanting to hear her answer again.
"Yes. More than Ah should, prob'ly. Sometahmes it scares meh how much Ah love yah."
"It scares 'y?" he asked, confused.
"Ah don't…If yah had died…Ah don't know what Ah woulda done. It woulda killed meh."
Remy pushed himself upright, his eyes blazing. He grabbed Rogue's shoulders, more roughly than he intended, and forced her to look at him. "Non, it wouldn'. 'Y're too strong fo' 'dat. If an'thing ever happens tah Remy, 'y gotta keep goin'. Promise Remy 'dat."
"Ah promise. But yah have tah promise not leave meh," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair.
"Ah promise Ah'll try not tah leave 'y. Ah promise Ah'll never willingly leave 'y. 'Dat's 'da best Remy can do."
"That'll do," she said with a sad smile. "Ah guess." She stretched out beside him, propped herself up on her arm, and looked down at him, studying him intently. Gently, her gloved fingers traced the wicked "M" on his chest, and she frowned. He noticed immediately. "What's wrong, chere?"
"Marie," she whispered.
"My family used to call me Marie. It was short for Anna Marie." He was silent for a long moment before he answered.
"Well 'den, seems tah Remy 'dat 'dis is in 'da rahght place. An "M" fo' Marie rahght over mah heart."
"Yah wouldn't even have that if it weren't for me! If yah hadn't tried tah be stupid and sacrifice yahself for meh, yah wouldn't have any of these things. Yah got an 'M' that'll remind yah of the woman that caused yahr injuries," she said, her voice full of self loathing.
"Non, 'dis scar is gonna remind meh of 'da woman worth dyin' for."
In that moment, Rogue wanted to kiss him more than anything else in the world. If given the choice between breathing and kissing Remy, she would have chosen to kiss him. If it weren't for the pesky, practical part of her brain, she probably would have. However, part of her brain was reminding her that her kisses were about as healthy as potassium cyanide, so she didn't. Instead she smiled at him—another perfect smile—and entangled her bare legs with Remy's covered ones.
Remy pushed himself closer to her, and slid his hands under her shirt. She shook her head and tried to pull away, but Remy held her close to him. "'Y not gon' hurt me, chere."
"Yah can't know that," she whispered.
"Remy trusts 'y."
With that, he kissed her gently. In her mind, she concentrated on building a wall between herself and Remy, hoping that the mental block was strong enough to keep her from killing him. She was so focused on maintaining the wall in her mind that she didn't notice that Remy had pulled her shirt half way up. The first sensation she noticed was the shock of his metal finger splints on her skin. Quickly, she pulled away, breathless.
"See, 'y didn' hurt Remy," he said with a grin.
It took her a moment to realize what had happened. Her years of hard work had finally paid off. For those few moments, she was able to block her power, to keep it from hurting someone when it mattered. She had actually taken control of her powers, if only for that moment. During a kiss, no less, when she had thought it would be hardest.
"Ah…Ah controlled it," she said, unable to keep the disbelief out of her voice.
"Ah told 'y that 'y could do it," he answered proudly. He ran his hands up her torso and pulled her shirt over her head. "'Y just had tah want it bad enough."
She smiled at him, despite her exhaustion. Concentrating once more, she bent over him and gently pressed her lips to the scar over his heart. After a moment, one of his arms wrapped around her and pulled her against him so that her head was resting on his chest. After several minutes, she could feel her concentration slipping and she pulled away.
"Ah can't…Ah'm too exhausted tah keep it up," she said. Remy noticed her shaking hands and the exhaustion on her face. Knowing that she was right, he let her go. However, he also noticed that there was triumph written on her face.
"Hold it jus' a little longer, chere," he said. She nodded and he kissed her again, more fiercely than before. This time, she responded. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him close against her. It didn't seem possible for her to get enough of him. She needed to be closer to him…
Then there was the familiar sensation and Remy's thoughts rushing through her head.
Quickly, she pulled away. Despite the slight draining, she could see a grin on Remy's face, and she couldn't seem to suppress her own smile. "Sorry. Ah lost it there at the end."
"It's alragh'. 'Y'll get better. 'Y're so tired now…it'll be easier when 'y not so exhausted."
"Ah should tell the Professor," she said, rising from the bed to pull her clothes back on. He looked so inviting, laying there with that smile on his face, and those lovely abs begging to be touched. Instead of touching him, she quickly pulled her clothes back on and tossed him a shirt. He pulled it on.
"Non, it can wait 'til mornin'."
She climbed back into bed, nestled against him, and decided that he was right. There would be plenty of time to work on it later. What mattered was that she had taken the crucial first step. The rest would come with time. Soon, she would be able to have everything she wanted with him. But for now, she had this moment. It was a wonderful moment for her. For the first time, she felt that something was right. Perfectly right.
Finally, she had come home.
Author's Note: So, there it is. My first multi-chapter Romy story is complete. A huge thanks to everyone who read/reviewed/alerted/favorited. I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know. Please review.