This will be a one-short, its actually meant as an epilogue to a story that's been swimming around in my head for months but I am no good with chapter stories. So this will have to do. I tried to put enough back story in the fic so you won't be scratching your heads going huh? But if you do PM me and I'll hopefully explain better.
Edited: April 15, 2011
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own any recognizable character.
It was a girl, just as she predicted. I am her father. It was hard to picture me as the care taker to such a small, helpless, wonderful thing. It had been a trial, waiting. I don't know how I pulled through, yet here I stand. It was hard for me to accept it. I hadn't held her yet. I hadn't even seen her yet, but I still knew. She was mine to protect.
My thoughts turn to her mother. In a room I was no longer allowed to enter. There had been complications. I don't know what I would do if I lost either one of them. The baby, I've never even seen (but no less important), and the mother that was nothing more then the mother of a child I didn't help make. She, being untouchable as it is, and me, not her boyfriend or husband, a man that touched her twice. Once a kiss, and second a slip of my pinkie that had resulted in a child.
It was hard to believe that a simple touch could result in such a blessing. But voila. Of all the things she had to go through, ma cherie, my Rogue. This was one, I wish would have happened the normal way. Apocalypse had other plans it seems.
To think of the things he made her do makes my anger rise to an almost unbearable level and, yet, I can't help but think of them. First making her betray every person she had ever known.
She told me once, in one of the rare times she would let her guard down, that she could see herself doing it. Absorbing everyone in the Xavier Manson, chasing down her best friend, attacking first the Brotherhood than the base I had previously lived. She confided that it was one of her worst and most persistent nightmares.
She also remembers Mesmero's words to Mystique, that Apocalypse took care of his followers or something of that nature. "He took care of me alright," I remember her say, "Just didn't plan on me touchin' a powerful male mutant before he figured out a way to kidnap me again. Ah suspected, he figured, he'd be the only one powerful enough to make it work. We sure showed him! Ain't that right, Swamp rat?"
Sometimes, when she would have real bad mood swings or I was called upon at three in the morning to get some ridiculous food item, I would ponder what it would be like if Apocalypse had gotten to her first. I'd think of how it would have been him getting yelled at one minute than cried on the next. See how he liked living with a bipolar hyena ready to rip his throat out if he brought home Mandarin Oranges instead of Tangerines one more time. I would feel guilty a moment later because I knew he would careless about her cravings and more about keeping his brood mare alive long enough to spawn his child.
"You alright there, Gumbo?" The gruff voice of Wolverine snapped me out of my darkening thoughts.
"Oui, mon ami," was my automatic reply.
"No you ain't, don't try to lie to me, bub," he growled out, "You're mess, and if you don't quit pacing…"
At first I thought him trailing off was just his threat. Like he's one to talk, I thought. The sound of someone clearing their throat stopped me from making a come back. As if I could think of a good one in the state I was in, in any case.
I turned, facing my very own Tante Mattie, the only midwife I even consider letting near my Rogue, she held a small bundle in her arms. Stupidly I can't help but think why is Tante Mattie standing here with a bunch of blankets, she should be with Rogue and the babe. I hear a snicker from behind me, but I pay no mind to as my Tante steps towards me and says,
"Y' gon' hol' y' fille, chil' or you jus' gon' gawk a' me till t' cows come home?"
"Ce petit paquet est ma fille?*" I mange to choke out, shocked. It couldn't be, could it?
"O' course chil' here," Tante Mattie makes to hand her to me, a bunch of different what if scenarios run through my head at once. I've never held a baby before.
Then, just like that, she's in my arms, with me looking down at her and her looking up at me. All noise stops, time stops with us just looking at each other, like the whole world's holding its breathe.
"Watch 'er head," Tante Mattie whispers adjusting my arms and the moment is broken and I find that the world hadn't held it's breathe. It was me doing the holding, so I let it out slowly because I'm afraid to breathe too hard on such a small, helpless, wonderful thing.
I'm just gazing down at the little thing that I did help make. That I was responsible for. I try to memorize everything in this moment before someone breaks it again. Her little blanket is white, she's rapped tight, like a caterpillar in its cocoon, with just her face showing, her eyes are open and they're gray. I remember, Hank saying something about babies true eye colors not really showing up until a couple of days later especially in lighter eye colors like blue and green. I can't help wishing that she will have green eyes like her mother.
Than I feel a movement and it startles me, looking up I see Tante Mattie smiling at me in a way that I've never seen her smile and she meets my eyes and smiles some more.
"She moved," I whisper, partly because I'm afraid to talk too loudly and partly because I'm in awe of the beautiful little creature in my arms.
Everyone in the room laughs as Tante Mattie replies, "She a bebe, chil' dey be known t' do dat."
I feel my face heat up as I look down at my daughter, whose moving again more then before, as her face scrunches up and she lets out a wail that just about breaks my heart. She's crying and I don't know what to do.
"She got a good set o' lung' on 'er dat un," Tante Mattie says, "Well don' jus' stan' dere chil' take da fille t' 'er mere."
"'er mere?" I parrot back feeling like an idiot again; a helpless idiot with a crying infant in his arms.
Tante Mattie shakes her head and beckons be forward. I follow her, trying to keep my eyes on where I was going and the baby at the same time. The natural flow of my walk calms her down and she falls asleep before I reach a room I hadn't been aloud in, in what seems like forever but in reality was only a hour or so.
I look up from my sleeping baby to my Rogue. She's awake but she looks tired. As if she hadn't slept in days. She has no make up on and her hair is a mess of curls, I had only seen once before but liked best. It was the most beautiful I had ever seen her and I wanted to tell her that. I wanted to tell her a lot of things but all that came out was a simple,
"Hey, yourself," came the weak reply.
"How y' holdin' up, chere?"
"Fine as Ah can be, Ah guess. After Ah just forced something the size of a watermelon through something the size of a lemon," I smile as she laughs breathlessly at her own joke, "That fer me?"
I look down once again to the baby in my arms, my baby, our baby.
"Oui, chere." I say as I walk the rest of the way around her bed to place the baby in it's mother's arms. She holds her like she's done it before, a million times. She looks down and smiles and I couldn't help but think that she was having a moment just like I had.
I want to say that she looks better holding the baby then I probably did, but I don't want to ruin their moment. So I sit and watch, thankful for the first quiet moment in a while. And just for that few minutes in time I don't think about the past or the future. I just am.
I'm not Thief or X-Man nor Acolyte or Marauder. Here with my family, an untouchable rogue that I find myself loving more and more each day and an infant, my daughter not a day old and already a part of my life I couldn't be without, I'm just me, Remy LeBeau.
*That little bundle is my daughter.
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