Epilogue
Remy climbs the stairs and wanders down the hallway to his
room, a quiet smile on his lips as the ambiance of the mansion
surrounds him. He hears Bobby on the phone trying to wheedle
yet another young lady into "the date of a lifetime"
and chuckles to himself.
Dat boy got all de class of a twist-top wine bottle.
Hank's steady snore. The faint patter of rain falling only
in Ororo's loft. The aroma of popcorn mingles with Warren's
after-shave and Betsy's perfume. It's all become familiar
to him once more. Comfortable again. Almost.
Remy opens the door to his room and stops at the threshold,
stunned by the unexpected. Rogue nervously smoothes a palm
across the sash of her dress. Candlelight flickers across
the silk, deepening the rose color to burgundy. Behind her,
more candles catch the gleaming silver of an intimate dinner
table. Rogue steps back, gesturing Remy to seat himself. He
searches Rogue's eyes.
"For me?"
"Seems to me we never welcomed ya home proper like,
Remy."
As he slips into a chair, Rogue uncovers the array of dishes
set before him.
"Pot roast?"
"Ya got a problem with mah pot roast, Cajun?"
There, for a moment, is the familiar sparkle in her eyes,
a mixture of playfulness and challenge. And love.
"Didn' t'ink you should be cookin', is all."
Rogue sinks into the chair across from him, chuckling.
"Ah reckon ya ain't the first person to think that."
Remy's grin broadens.
"Still remember de look on Scott's face when he took
de first bite of your Key Lime Pie."
"Hmph! Ya know as well as Ah do that wasn't my fault.
Whoever heard o' a body bein' allergic to limes of
all things? Speakin' o' Scott--"
Rogue's gloved hands reach out to his.
"--he told me everythin'."
"Ev't'ing he knew, dat is."
"Ah don't understand."
Remy draws Rogue from the table and leads her to the loveseat.
She settles easily into his embrace.
"Killed dem all, Roguie."
She squeezes his knee.
"Ah know, sugah."
"All 'cept one."
His hand strokes her cheek thoughtfully, a sad smile plays
across his lips.
"Didn' know it at de time--but he favors you, cherie."
A confused frown crosses her face.
"Ah don't understand--"
Rogue's eyes widen.
"Sinister--created a clone out of our DNA? Ya
sayin' we got a son, Cajun?!"
"...oui..more or less. Know it ain't what y'had in mind,
but--"
"Oh...mah...lord..."
He presses a wineglass to her lips, steadying her shaking
hands with his own.
"Here--dis will help."
"Tell me!"
"Well, 'course he has my charm--"
Rogue lightly punches his arm and Remy breaks into a broad
grin that quickly fades.
"He was jus' a chile--no more den ten or so--watchin'
me take out de others--knowin' he was gon' be next."
Remy shakes his head.
"Couldn't do it."
Rogue buries her head in his shoulder.
"Oh, Remy--where is he? Can I see him? Talk to him?
It would mean so much if I could only--"
"Shhhh...chere, t'ink about dis. Y'got to be understandin'
dat de best we can do for de chile--our chile--is to keep
Sinister from ever knowin' he survived."
"Still...some day, maybe..."
"...maybe..."
There was a time he believed in things that could never be.
For this moment, he believes again.
THE END
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