Cela est bien dit, répondit Candide, mais il faut cultiver notre jardin.

Candide, Voltaire

When Rogue was a little girl in Mississippi with swinging pig tails answering to the name of Anna—Anna Marie when her mother was exasperated—she had only one aspiration for when she grew up: her own house with her own garden.

It didn't have to be a big house, even. Just one with a wrap-around porch, maybe with a view of the Mighty Mississippi so she could watch the sun set on the river. Just a small patch of land to call her own, where she could plant some tomatoes and some peas and maybe some sweet onions like they grew in Georgia.

Simple, really. Until Cody.

After Cody, she had other aspirations. She wanted understanding and control and release and normalcy, but she didn't really find any of those things. Instead, Mystique found her, lured her into the Brotherhood with promises of destiny and purpose. It seemed enough, for a while. Until Carol.

Once again, Rogue's mind turned towards other things. This time, she wanted forgiveness. She didn't want to hurt anyone anymore, even if it meant hurting herself. So she went with the X-Men, where she learned that her curse could be a gift, that there were things she could do with her powers that could absolve a little of her guilt even if they couldn't buy forgiveness. Xavier's dream gave her a purpose. She accepted that she could make the world better for other mutants and gave up pursuing her own wants. Until Gambit.

Remy, with his fascinating red black eyes and their seductive foreign whispers of Que désires-tu? Dis-moi, et je te le donnerai. Remy, with his soft, rounded consonants that made her promises in husky tones. Remy, with his teasing words, his tentative touches, his chérie's, his tenacity. Never mind that he was a criminal, a thief, a womanizer.

Because it was Remy who made her remember that all she had ever wanted was the little house with the big porch, the Mississippi and the sunset, the garden.


jardin garden, yard

Cela est … notre jardin. That is well said, replied Candide, but let us cultivate our garden.

Que désires-tu?… le donnerai. What do you desire? Tell me, and I will give it to you.

chérie term of endearment, derived from cher (expensive, precious, dear)