Disclaimer: Yeah o.k I don't own them. Don't sue me, blah, blah..
So here it is the final chapter, the conclusion of everything. As this is
my first FF, I'd like to dedicate it to all my reviewers (Especially the
ones that backed me all the way, you know how you are!), thank-you for the
suggestions and support. I 'm in the process of writing more fics (In fact
I'm currently writing a Ro/Lo movieverse piece. Conventional Ro/Lo this
time!) Thanx one and all, M'ikosan7,xx
Chapter.9. The Epilogue.
Madripoor...
It was heading on for four a. m in the musty, old saloon that sat in the
heart of Madripoor's red light district and the bar keep was becoming
impatient. He wiped idly at the already 'clean', pine bar surface with a
filthy rag. All the while eying the dark, scruffy little stranger who had
been propping up it up since 9.00 p.m the previous day.
The stocky man hadn't actually taken a sip from the quarter full glass of
whiskey for at least an hour and a half. He'd spent almost the entire time
absently starring down into the glowing amber liquid, occasionally
swirling it slowly around in the glass, but not once tasting it.
#Although#, the bar tender thought with a wry smirk, #he has drank enough
of that stuff to sink a battleship!#
With a resigned sigh, he threw the rag down on the bar and walked over to
the end where the man was sat. He thought if he could at least engage him
in conversation, maybe he could discover whatever his problem was and get
him the hell out of there.
Of course, he could just go over to the stranger and demand that he leave.
But as an experienced bar worker in Madripoor he knew by now that that was
a sure-fire way to getting your throat slit or a bullet to the head.
It was always best to pretend you gave a shit then ask them, politely, to
vacate the premises.
"Hey," the man began. "That whiskey ain't gonna jump outta the glass and
down you're throat all by its self, you know."
No reaction, not even a flutter of the eyelids. The bar keep cleared his
throat impatiently, shifting his weight onto his other leg as he folded
his arms over his potbelly. This was probably going to take longer than
he'd anticipated.
"What's your name then?"
After a long pause he replied, "Logan." His voice was deep and husky, like
he'd smoked enough tobacco products for about ten life times.
"So, Logan, wanna share it with a sympathetic ear?" He couldn't have sound
less concerned or unconvincing if he'd tried.
Logan sniffed at the question before bringing the rim of the glass to his
mouth, but not quite letting them connect. "I don't think so." He said
into the glass before necking it's entire contents.
The man sighed once more but almost imperceptibly.
"Come on, there ain't no-one here 'cept you and me. What's the long face
for?"
Logan grasped the half-empty whiskey bottle that sat to his right and
began to pour himself another measure. He watched, almost hypnotised as
the amber waterfall fell into the glass below. Placing the chunky bottle
back down, he took one or to sips of his drink.
"Well I'm guessin' it's either a woman or money." The man said as he
pulled a glass down from the rack behind him blindly, rubbing it's insides
a few times with the filthy apron that was fastened loosely about his vast
waist. He helped himself to Logan's bottle of liquor.
"Women." Logan replied shortly, drinking some more. "Well---one woman to
be exact."
The bar tender chuckled, his shoulders shaking somewhat exaggeratedly. "I
knew it, the moment you came in here, I knew it." He downed his whiskey
before continuing, "So did she cheat on you or leave you?"
"Neither." Logan leaned back on his stool, as he cracked the knuckles on
both hands.
"So what happened then?" Now he really was interested.
"I fell for the wrong woman bub." He reached into his coat pocket,
retrieving his wallet. Drawing out three crisp one hundred dollar notes,
he tossed them onto the bar before taking leave of his stool.
The bar keep laughed heartily as he said, "Haven't we all 'bub', haven't
we all!"
Logan regarded the other man for a moment before picking up his Stetson
from the seat beside him and placing it firmly over his wild hair.
Thrusting his hands into his pockets he turned and made his way to the
saloon's exit.
He paused for a moment, turning his head to the side so that he could see
the man from the corner of his eye. "Story of my life."
With that Logan disappeared into the drizzle-soaked streets of Madrioor.
* * *
Remy brought his Harley to rest near the front of the mansion as dusk
settled over the still evening skies. It was a beautifully clear night,
the stars were beginning to shine like the most perfect diamonds.
But Remy had no time to appreciate such trivial things as he looked up to
the mansion roof. A warm light shone through the skylight, assuring him
that his wife was indeed at home.
Placing his heavy, booted left foot firmly on the ground, he tipped the
bike towards him and swung his right leg over the seat, bringing it down
swiftly to kick the bikes stand into place. The Harley could stay there
for the night, he couldn't be bothered to take it around to the garage.
He took one last look up at the roof, noticing the hastily placed
patchwork where it had been repaired.
Tugging the collar of his leather duster up around his ears, he quickly
jogged up the main steps and entered the mansion.
* * *
As Gambit pulled back the throw and stepped into his room he was
immediately hit by the musty scent of dewberry incense, hanging thickly in
the air. The various stocky, cream-coloured church candles that were
dotted here and there dimly lighted the attic space.
The soft melody of Billie Holiday's 'Autumn in New York' drifted over to
him from the far side of the room.
A wry smile came to his lips as he remembered how Ororo had purchased the
CD for him when they were in the city together, not long after they'd
become an item. They were still in that 'honeymoon phase' and the memory
of that, combined with the subdued atmosphere of the room soothed him
greatly, taking the edge off any nerves he may have been feeling.
"You came back."
Remy jumped, whirling round in the direction of the voice to see Ororo
coming into the room from the balcony.
"Yeah." He stated, simply. His heart was pounding in his chest now, for
more reasons than one.
"It has been five months." Ororo said, without emotion as she walked
further into the room. Her right hand came up instinctively to rest on her
now swollen abdomen.
Remy's eyes widened as he took in the awesome sight for the first time.
He'd never seen anything quite so beautiful in his entire life. Mentally
shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind of such thoughts.
He flipped the edge of his long coat back at the hip to gain access to his
trouser pocket. Reaching inside he was stopped suddenly, when Ororo said,
"If you are thinking about lighting one of those disgusting cigarettes,
please don't."
Remy grinned sheepishly as he removed his hand from his pocket, leaving
the packet in place. "Yah o' course. Sorry, I did' t'ink." His hand
pointed briefly at Ororo's bump, before he rubbed it quickly over his
unshaven chin that looked like it hadn't seen a razor for the better part
of a week.
Ororo went towards one of the reading chairs, lowering herself into it
with some difficulty already. Remy walked over to the bed that was
opposite, perching himself on it's edge.
"How have you been?" She asked calmly.
"Ur, fine chere, an' yo'?" As soon as he finished the question he shook
his head, laughing briefly. "Mon Dieu, dis is ridiculous!"
Ororo sat up in her seat, wearing a vaguely icy look. "What, pray tell, is
ridiculous Remy?"
"Dis----de poli'e greetin'! Actin' like we be casual acquaintances!" A
hint of the laugh was still in his tone and it annoyed Ororo immensely.
"What would you have me do Remy? Fall at you're feet wailing?!"
The smile dropped off his face instantly as he straightened his posture
and asked in all seriousness, "As he been 'ere?"
Ororo's cool veneer didn't falter one jot, as she stated shortly, "No."
Remy nodded his head, almost in approval. Ororo was secretly heartened by
the fact that he seemed to have accepted her word without question.
A thick silence grew between them, only Billie Holiday's dulcet tones
coming to prominence from the background, filled the air.
Looking over at his wife, sitting there, as stiff as a board, Remy became
increasingly irritated by her seemingly cold reception. True, he hadn't
expected her to throw herself into his arms, grateful for his return. But
that damnable pride of hers, it would be the death of her one day, he
thought ruefully.
Then a thought came to him about how he could get a rise out of her, get
her to open up. But then he decided no, he couldn't, besides nothing had
actually happened between him and that girl. Although it really could have
gone further but he'd stopped himself. Yes, he was certainly jaded by what
had happened but it wouldn't have been fair on anyone to take his revenge
out in that way. Especially on the girl, she'd been so sweet to him, even
when he was walking out the door at three in the morning, buckling up his
pants and muttering apologies. No, he'd keep that little incident to
himself.
It was time, Remy thought to himself grimly, time to cut to the chase. To
ask the question that had been gnawing away at him every moment of every
day for the past five months.
Coughing nervously, Remy stood up from the bed, shrugging out of his
duster, and placing it mindfully on the back of the desk chair to his
left. He strode over to where Ororo was sat, until he was stood right
before her.
Ororo was watching him the entire time, in anxious anticipation. Her
stomach was doing back flips and she could feel small beads of
perspiration collecting on her forehead. She struggled to keep a cool
demeanour.
After standing there completely still for a moment or two, Remy suddenly
offered out his hand. Ororo looked at the hand and then up at Remy in
vague confusion, before she placed her delicate one in his roughened one.
He pulled her toward him gently, Ororo supporting her weight by gripping
the arm of the chair with her free hand.
Once up, she was uncertain as to what to do. She felt stupidly
uncomfortable being this close, just a hairs breath away from her husband.
She flinched minutely as Remy began to wrap his arms around her, slowly
pulling her into an embrace. Her body was ridged as a stone at first, but
she gradually relaxed as she felt his body heat, warm against her.
Leaning her chin on his shoulder, she closed her eyes as he rested his
cheek on the side of her head. Her arms slipped around his body, drawing
him in tighter.
The small swell of her stomach felt unbelievably good pressed against him.
"Cheri-----" He whispered through barely parted lips. His eyes were half
lidded as he breathed in, for the first time in months, that unmistakeable
scent that was her.
"Yo' know, I re'earsed dis moment a t'ousand times in mah head. All de
possible way's I t'ought dis could go. I even t'ought----t'ought abou'
what I'd do if I got 'ere an' yo' was wit 'im. He stopped, admitting that
out loud for the first time made him sick to the stomach.
"Remy, no-----" She said quietly against his shoulder.
"I couldn' help it 'Roro, but by las' week I'd got de w'ole speech down to
a tee. But now it come to it, I don' remember a god-damn word!" They both
chuckled lightly, despite themselves.
"I missed you Remy. I missed you so much." Ororo squeezed her eyes shut,
tightening her arms around him. "Everyday, whenever I heard a vehicle
pulling up to the mansion, I rushed to the nearest window."
Remy kept his delight in hearing those words firmly under the surface
because he couldn't dance around the subject any longer.
He took a deep breath to focus himself and pulled away from Ororo, prying
her arms from around his waist. Holding her practically at arms length,
his face darkened as he looked his eyes onto her shimmering ones and did
what needed to be done.
* * *
Five Years Later.
"Dante! Dante! Can you come inside now please?" Ororo shouted out to her
son, who was rushing back and forth on the lawn, his kite following just
behind, a lot on a cool breeze.
"Alright Mommy!" Dante's soft voice drifted across to Ororo, who was stood
at the back kitchen door that opened out onto the small garden.
The little boy made his way over to the boat house, his wispy, silver hair
danced about his head, framing the caramel colour of his face like a
bright halo.
Ororo smiled in contemplation, she loved her young son so much. He was
everything and more than she could have hoped for in a child.
She turned from the door and busied herself once more with clearing the
dishes from the kitchen counter. Just then Dante came into the room,
dumping his kite in the corner, he went straight to his mother and wrapped
his chubby little arms around Ororo's legs.
"Dante!" Ororo said through a laugh. "Be careful, you could have tripped
me!"
"Sorry Mommy. Love you!" With a high pitched giggle the child released his
hold on his mother's legs, then proceeded, with great difficulty, to
clamour up onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar.
He stood up on the stool, with a toddlers customary distain for safety,
and reached into a large ceramic jar on the counter, pulling out a handful
of cookies.
Ororo watched her son's actions carefully, before she rolled her eyes and
tutted in mock disgust.
"Where is Daddy?" Dante managed to say around a mouthful, dry cookie
crumbs cascading from his cute little mouth.
"He's still up at the mansion, making the last preparations for your
party, child. And don't talk when you have food in your mouth!"
"Sorry Mommy." He said with a mouthful of cookie. She couldn't help but
laugh.
Ororo put away the last of the plates in the lower cupboards. As she
straightened up she let out a small grumble of discomfort, moving her left
hand behind her to support her aching back. Her other hand ran smoothly
over the light cotton material that covered the huge swell of her
distended stomach.
"Is the baby kicking?" Dante asked with genuine curiosity and excitement.
Ororo smiled as she walked over to her son who was gazing at her pregnant
belly with wide-eyed wonder.
"She's just a little restless I think." Ororo took Dante's small, podgy
hand in hers and placed it on the bump. "Can you feel her?"
Just at that instant the baby decided to give her temporary home a rather
savage kick.
"Oh!" Ororo exclaimed in shock. Dante whipped his hand away fast, using it
to cover his gaping mouth before bursting into fits of giggles.
"Come on now." Ororo lifted her son from the stool and set him down,
smoothing the fine hair at the nape of his neck as she did so.
"You can not be late for your own party. Not after Daddy has gone to so
much trouble.
"Yay!! My birthday party, I'm a big boy now!" With that joyous exclamation
Dante ran out of the kitchen and up towards the mansion.
Ororo followed, as fast as her swollen ankles would allow.
* * *
"Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear Dante,
Happy Birthday to you!"
Practically the entire roster of the X-Men were gathered in the main
dinning hall, past and present. Even Rogue and her husband Joseph had come
with their newborn son. All there to celebrate the fourth birthday of
Storm's first child.
Dante's little face lit up like a Christmas tree when he observed all his
aunts and uncles in he hall. He was awe struck by the sight of what had to
have been at least a thousand helium balloons filling the space, banners
and streamers hung everywhere. The room was awash with a veritable
symphony of light, colour and music, Dante had never seen anything like it
before.
"Well, what do you think?, my special little man." Ororo whispered
tenderly in her sons ear, as she crouched beside him with great difficulty.
The boy was still dumb struck as his big, blue eyes scanned the room
hungrily. But his focus had changed and he appeared to be actively
searching for something-----or someone.
"Where is Daddy?, you said he was here!" He sounded disappointed. But as
Ororo opened her mouth to reply, she didn't get the chance.
"Hey, yo' Poppa be righ' 'ere, mon fils."
Dante span round quickly, running in that bouncing toddler way, into
Remy's open arms.
"Hey, hey birthday boy. Look at yo', yo' all grown up now, hien?" Remy
bellowed as he swung Dante around in circles, eliciting wild laughter from
the white haired child.
"Now why don' yo' go see what all yaw 'tanties an' oncles got fo' yo'?"
Remy kissed Dante's forehead before setting the boy down. He ran off to
the group of adults, all too willing to shower him with expensive gifts.
Remy turned to his wife, cupping her large belly gently as he leaned in
and softly kissed her lips.
"Yo' alrigh' ma cheri? No' to tired?" He lifted one hand from her stomach
to caress the side of her face.
Ororo smiled at him and returned his kiss, before answering, "I am fine my
love, just a bit achy but it is not to bad."
"Well, yo' only got anuddah two weeks chere, den it all be over." Remy
wrapped his arms around Ororo as she let her hands slip up his back and
hooked them over his shoulders.
"And those two weeks cannot be over soon enough my love."
Remy chuckled quietly into her thick, loose hair before moving away to
reposition himself behind Ororo. Once more enveloping his arms around her
and resting his chin on her shoulder so he could watch as Dante opened all
his gifts with obvious delight.
Remy smiled brightly as he watched the birthday boy tearing
enthusiastically at the wrapping paper, not sparing a single thought about
how carefully and beautifully the gifts had been wrapped. But the smile
slipped a fraction as he remembered the other event that might be taking
place today.
"Stormy?" He began tentatively.
"Um hum?" Ororo's attention was still firmly fixed on her little boy.
"Do yo' t'ink he'll show?"
Ororo's face became stern, Remy obviously couldn't see it but he did feel
the slight tightening of her muscles.
"I do not know. We have no idea if he even received our letter or not."
She tried to sound as calm as she could.
Neither of them spoke for a moment, both feeling awkward broaching the
subject.
But finally Ororo asked, "Do you think we did the right thing? I mean- --telling him he has a son?"
"I don' know. Well----- dat ain't true. Yah, we did chere. I mean it's
only fair, I hate to admit dat, but it is." Remy tightened his embrace,
but not too much, as he planted a lingering kiss just at the place where
the bottom of the ear meets the neck.
Ororo smiled warmly, closing her eyes, "Yes, we did, didn't we."
The End.
So here it is the final chapter, the conclusion of everything. As this is
my first FF, I'd like to dedicate it to all my reviewers (Especially the
ones that backed me all the way, you know how you are!), thank-you for the
suggestions and support. I 'm in the process of writing more fics (In fact
I'm currently writing a Ro/Lo movieverse piece. Conventional Ro/Lo this
time!) Thanx one and all, M'ikosan7,xx
Chapter.9. The Epilogue.
Madripoor...
It was heading on for four a. m in the musty, old saloon that sat in the
heart of Madripoor's red light district and the bar keep was becoming
impatient. He wiped idly at the already 'clean', pine bar surface with a
filthy rag. All the while eying the dark, scruffy little stranger who had
been propping up it up since 9.00 p.m the previous day.
The stocky man hadn't actually taken a sip from the quarter full glass of
whiskey for at least an hour and a half. He'd spent almost the entire time
absently starring down into the glowing amber liquid, occasionally
swirling it slowly around in the glass, but not once tasting it.
#Although#, the bar tender thought with a wry smirk, #he has drank enough
of that stuff to sink a battleship!#
With a resigned sigh, he threw the rag down on the bar and walked over to
the end where the man was sat. He thought if he could at least engage him
in conversation, maybe he could discover whatever his problem was and get
him the hell out of there.
Of course, he could just go over to the stranger and demand that he leave.
But as an experienced bar worker in Madripoor he knew by now that that was
a sure-fire way to getting your throat slit or a bullet to the head.
It was always best to pretend you gave a shit then ask them, politely, to
vacate the premises.
"Hey," the man began. "That whiskey ain't gonna jump outta the glass and
down you're throat all by its self, you know."
No reaction, not even a flutter of the eyelids. The bar keep cleared his
throat impatiently, shifting his weight onto his other leg as he folded
his arms over his potbelly. This was probably going to take longer than
he'd anticipated.
"What's your name then?"
After a long pause he replied, "Logan." His voice was deep and husky, like
he'd smoked enough tobacco products for about ten life times.
"So, Logan, wanna share it with a sympathetic ear?" He couldn't have sound
less concerned or unconvincing if he'd tried.
Logan sniffed at the question before bringing the rim of the glass to his
mouth, but not quite letting them connect. "I don't think so." He said
into the glass before necking it's entire contents.
The man sighed once more but almost imperceptibly.
"Come on, there ain't no-one here 'cept you and me. What's the long face
for?"
Logan grasped the half-empty whiskey bottle that sat to his right and
began to pour himself another measure. He watched, almost hypnotised as
the amber waterfall fell into the glass below. Placing the chunky bottle
back down, he took one or to sips of his drink.
"Well I'm guessin' it's either a woman or money." The man said as he
pulled a glass down from the rack behind him blindly, rubbing it's insides
a few times with the filthy apron that was fastened loosely about his vast
waist. He helped himself to Logan's bottle of liquor.
"Women." Logan replied shortly, drinking some more. "Well---one woman to
be exact."
The bar tender chuckled, his shoulders shaking somewhat exaggeratedly. "I
knew it, the moment you came in here, I knew it." He downed his whiskey
before continuing, "So did she cheat on you or leave you?"
"Neither." Logan leaned back on his stool, as he cracked the knuckles on
both hands.
"So what happened then?" Now he really was interested.
"I fell for the wrong woman bub." He reached into his coat pocket,
retrieving his wallet. Drawing out three crisp one hundred dollar notes,
he tossed them onto the bar before taking leave of his stool.
The bar keep laughed heartily as he said, "Haven't we all 'bub', haven't
we all!"
Logan regarded the other man for a moment before picking up his Stetson
from the seat beside him and placing it firmly over his wild hair.
Thrusting his hands into his pockets he turned and made his way to the
saloon's exit.
He paused for a moment, turning his head to the side so that he could see
the man from the corner of his eye. "Story of my life."
With that Logan disappeared into the drizzle-soaked streets of Madrioor.
* * *
Remy brought his Harley to rest near the front of the mansion as dusk
settled over the still evening skies. It was a beautifully clear night,
the stars were beginning to shine like the most perfect diamonds.
But Remy had no time to appreciate such trivial things as he looked up to
the mansion roof. A warm light shone through the skylight, assuring him
that his wife was indeed at home.
Placing his heavy, booted left foot firmly on the ground, he tipped the
bike towards him and swung his right leg over the seat, bringing it down
swiftly to kick the bikes stand into place. The Harley could stay there
for the night, he couldn't be bothered to take it around to the garage.
He took one last look up at the roof, noticing the hastily placed
patchwork where it had been repaired.
Tugging the collar of his leather duster up around his ears, he quickly
jogged up the main steps and entered the mansion.
* * *
As Gambit pulled back the throw and stepped into his room he was
immediately hit by the musty scent of dewberry incense, hanging thickly in
the air. The various stocky, cream-coloured church candles that were
dotted here and there dimly lighted the attic space.
The soft melody of Billie Holiday's 'Autumn in New York' drifted over to
him from the far side of the room.
A wry smile came to his lips as he remembered how Ororo had purchased the
CD for him when they were in the city together, not long after they'd
become an item. They were still in that 'honeymoon phase' and the memory
of that, combined with the subdued atmosphere of the room soothed him
greatly, taking the edge off any nerves he may have been feeling.
"You came back."
Remy jumped, whirling round in the direction of the voice to see Ororo
coming into the room from the balcony.
"Yeah." He stated, simply. His heart was pounding in his chest now, for
more reasons than one.
"It has been five months." Ororo said, without emotion as she walked
further into the room. Her right hand came up instinctively to rest on her
now swollen abdomen.
Remy's eyes widened as he took in the awesome sight for the first time.
He'd never seen anything quite so beautiful in his entire life. Mentally
shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind of such thoughts.
He flipped the edge of his long coat back at the hip to gain access to his
trouser pocket. Reaching inside he was stopped suddenly, when Ororo said,
"If you are thinking about lighting one of those disgusting cigarettes,
please don't."
Remy grinned sheepishly as he removed his hand from his pocket, leaving
the packet in place. "Yah o' course. Sorry, I did' t'ink." His hand
pointed briefly at Ororo's bump, before he rubbed it quickly over his
unshaven chin that looked like it hadn't seen a razor for the better part
of a week.
Ororo went towards one of the reading chairs, lowering herself into it
with some difficulty already. Remy walked over to the bed that was
opposite, perching himself on it's edge.
"How have you been?" She asked calmly.
"Ur, fine chere, an' yo'?" As soon as he finished the question he shook
his head, laughing briefly. "Mon Dieu, dis is ridiculous!"
Ororo sat up in her seat, wearing a vaguely icy look. "What, pray tell, is
ridiculous Remy?"
"Dis----de poli'e greetin'! Actin' like we be casual acquaintances!" A
hint of the laugh was still in his tone and it annoyed Ororo immensely.
"What would you have me do Remy? Fall at you're feet wailing?!"
The smile dropped off his face instantly as he straightened his posture
and asked in all seriousness, "As he been 'ere?"
Ororo's cool veneer didn't falter one jot, as she stated shortly, "No."
Remy nodded his head, almost in approval. Ororo was secretly heartened by
the fact that he seemed to have accepted her word without question.
A thick silence grew between them, only Billie Holiday's dulcet tones
coming to prominence from the background, filled the air.
Looking over at his wife, sitting there, as stiff as a board, Remy became
increasingly irritated by her seemingly cold reception. True, he hadn't
expected her to throw herself into his arms, grateful for his return. But
that damnable pride of hers, it would be the death of her one day, he
thought ruefully.
Then a thought came to him about how he could get a rise out of her, get
her to open up. But then he decided no, he couldn't, besides nothing had
actually happened between him and that girl. Although it really could have
gone further but he'd stopped himself. Yes, he was certainly jaded by what
had happened but it wouldn't have been fair on anyone to take his revenge
out in that way. Especially on the girl, she'd been so sweet to him, even
when he was walking out the door at three in the morning, buckling up his
pants and muttering apologies. No, he'd keep that little incident to
himself.
It was time, Remy thought to himself grimly, time to cut to the chase. To
ask the question that had been gnawing away at him every moment of every
day for the past five months.
Coughing nervously, Remy stood up from the bed, shrugging out of his
duster, and placing it mindfully on the back of the desk chair to his
left. He strode over to where Ororo was sat, until he was stood right
before her.
Ororo was watching him the entire time, in anxious anticipation. Her
stomach was doing back flips and she could feel small beads of
perspiration collecting on her forehead. She struggled to keep a cool
demeanour.
After standing there completely still for a moment or two, Remy suddenly
offered out his hand. Ororo looked at the hand and then up at Remy in
vague confusion, before she placed her delicate one in his roughened one.
He pulled her toward him gently, Ororo supporting her weight by gripping
the arm of the chair with her free hand.
Once up, she was uncertain as to what to do. She felt stupidly
uncomfortable being this close, just a hairs breath away from her husband.
She flinched minutely as Remy began to wrap his arms around her, slowly
pulling her into an embrace. Her body was ridged as a stone at first, but
she gradually relaxed as she felt his body heat, warm against her.
Leaning her chin on his shoulder, she closed her eyes as he rested his
cheek on the side of her head. Her arms slipped around his body, drawing
him in tighter.
The small swell of her stomach felt unbelievably good pressed against him.
"Cheri-----" He whispered through barely parted lips. His eyes were half
lidded as he breathed in, for the first time in months, that unmistakeable
scent that was her.
"Yo' know, I re'earsed dis moment a t'ousand times in mah head. All de
possible way's I t'ought dis could go. I even t'ought----t'ought abou'
what I'd do if I got 'ere an' yo' was wit 'im. He stopped, admitting that
out loud for the first time made him sick to the stomach.
"Remy, no-----" She said quietly against his shoulder.
"I couldn' help it 'Roro, but by las' week I'd got de w'ole speech down to
a tee. But now it come to it, I don' remember a god-damn word!" They both
chuckled lightly, despite themselves.
"I missed you Remy. I missed you so much." Ororo squeezed her eyes shut,
tightening her arms around him. "Everyday, whenever I heard a vehicle
pulling up to the mansion, I rushed to the nearest window."
Remy kept his delight in hearing those words firmly under the surface
because he couldn't dance around the subject any longer.
He took a deep breath to focus himself and pulled away from Ororo, prying
her arms from around his waist. Holding her practically at arms length,
his face darkened as he looked his eyes onto her shimmering ones and did
what needed to be done.
* * *
Five Years Later.
"Dante! Dante! Can you come inside now please?" Ororo shouted out to her
son, who was rushing back and forth on the lawn, his kite following just
behind, a lot on a cool breeze.
"Alright Mommy!" Dante's soft voice drifted across to Ororo, who was stood
at the back kitchen door that opened out onto the small garden.
The little boy made his way over to the boat house, his wispy, silver hair
danced about his head, framing the caramel colour of his face like a
bright halo.
Ororo smiled in contemplation, she loved her young son so much. He was
everything and more than she could have hoped for in a child.
She turned from the door and busied herself once more with clearing the
dishes from the kitchen counter. Just then Dante came into the room,
dumping his kite in the corner, he went straight to his mother and wrapped
his chubby little arms around Ororo's legs.
"Dante!" Ororo said through a laugh. "Be careful, you could have tripped
me!"
"Sorry Mommy. Love you!" With a high pitched giggle the child released his
hold on his mother's legs, then proceeded, with great difficulty, to
clamour up onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar.
He stood up on the stool, with a toddlers customary distain for safety,
and reached into a large ceramic jar on the counter, pulling out a handful
of cookies.
Ororo watched her son's actions carefully, before she rolled her eyes and
tutted in mock disgust.
"Where is Daddy?" Dante managed to say around a mouthful, dry cookie
crumbs cascading from his cute little mouth.
"He's still up at the mansion, making the last preparations for your
party, child. And don't talk when you have food in your mouth!"
"Sorry Mommy." He said with a mouthful of cookie. She couldn't help but
laugh.
Ororo put away the last of the plates in the lower cupboards. As she
straightened up she let out a small grumble of discomfort, moving her left
hand behind her to support her aching back. Her other hand ran smoothly
over the light cotton material that covered the huge swell of her
distended stomach.
"Is the baby kicking?" Dante asked with genuine curiosity and excitement.
Ororo smiled as she walked over to her son who was gazing at her pregnant
belly with wide-eyed wonder.
"She's just a little restless I think." Ororo took Dante's small, podgy
hand in hers and placed it on the bump. "Can you feel her?"
Just at that instant the baby decided to give her temporary home a rather
savage kick.
"Oh!" Ororo exclaimed in shock. Dante whipped his hand away fast, using it
to cover his gaping mouth before bursting into fits of giggles.
"Come on now." Ororo lifted her son from the stool and set him down,
smoothing the fine hair at the nape of his neck as she did so.
"You can not be late for your own party. Not after Daddy has gone to so
much trouble.
"Yay!! My birthday party, I'm a big boy now!" With that joyous exclamation
Dante ran out of the kitchen and up towards the mansion.
Ororo followed, as fast as her swollen ankles would allow.
* * *
"Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear Dante,
Happy Birthday to you!"
Practically the entire roster of the X-Men were gathered in the main
dinning hall, past and present. Even Rogue and her husband Joseph had come
with their newborn son. All there to celebrate the fourth birthday of
Storm's first child.
Dante's little face lit up like a Christmas tree when he observed all his
aunts and uncles in he hall. He was awe struck by the sight of what had to
have been at least a thousand helium balloons filling the space, banners
and streamers hung everywhere. The room was awash with a veritable
symphony of light, colour and music, Dante had never seen anything like it
before.
"Well, what do you think?, my special little man." Ororo whispered
tenderly in her sons ear, as she crouched beside him with great difficulty.
The boy was still dumb struck as his big, blue eyes scanned the room
hungrily. But his focus had changed and he appeared to be actively
searching for something-----or someone.
"Where is Daddy?, you said he was here!" He sounded disappointed. But as
Ororo opened her mouth to reply, she didn't get the chance.
"Hey, yo' Poppa be righ' 'ere, mon fils."
Dante span round quickly, running in that bouncing toddler way, into
Remy's open arms.
"Hey, hey birthday boy. Look at yo', yo' all grown up now, hien?" Remy
bellowed as he swung Dante around in circles, eliciting wild laughter from
the white haired child.
"Now why don' yo' go see what all yaw 'tanties an' oncles got fo' yo'?"
Remy kissed Dante's forehead before setting the boy down. He ran off to
the group of adults, all too willing to shower him with expensive gifts.
Remy turned to his wife, cupping her large belly gently as he leaned in
and softly kissed her lips.
"Yo' alrigh' ma cheri? No' to tired?" He lifted one hand from her stomach
to caress the side of her face.
Ororo smiled at him and returned his kiss, before answering, "I am fine my
love, just a bit achy but it is not to bad."
"Well, yo' only got anuddah two weeks chere, den it all be over." Remy
wrapped his arms around Ororo as she let her hands slip up his back and
hooked them over his shoulders.
"And those two weeks cannot be over soon enough my love."
Remy chuckled quietly into her thick, loose hair before moving away to
reposition himself behind Ororo. Once more enveloping his arms around her
and resting his chin on her shoulder so he could watch as Dante opened all
his gifts with obvious delight.
Remy smiled brightly as he watched the birthday boy tearing
enthusiastically at the wrapping paper, not sparing a single thought about
how carefully and beautifully the gifts had been wrapped. But the smile
slipped a fraction as he remembered the other event that might be taking
place today.
"Stormy?" He began tentatively.
"Um hum?" Ororo's attention was still firmly fixed on her little boy.
"Do yo' t'ink he'll show?"
Ororo's face became stern, Remy obviously couldn't see it but he did feel
the slight tightening of her muscles.
"I do not know. We have no idea if he even received our letter or not."
She tried to sound as calm as she could.
Neither of them spoke for a moment, both feeling awkward broaching the
subject.
But finally Ororo asked, "Do you think we did the right thing? I mean- --telling him he has a son?"
"I don' know. Well----- dat ain't true. Yah, we did chere. I mean it's
only fair, I hate to admit dat, but it is." Remy tightened his embrace,
but not too much, as he planted a lingering kiss just at the place where
the bottom of the ear meets the neck.
Ororo smiled warmly, closing her eyes, "Yes, we did, didn't we."
The End.