Epilogue: Three Months Later...

"An EMP?"

Forge nodded, lifting the small device. "It's small. Keep it on ya; it'll take out any electronics in about a ten-foot radius."

Rogue's smile flashed. "We got a defense."

"Sure. But you can't arm the islanders with it."

Her smile all but melted. "How'd you know—" Forge gave the Southerner a look. Okay, they were close. He knew her. It was weird, having all these people that understood her, didn't fear her skin or bat a lash (or not many lashes) when she channeled one of the many minds sharing her brain space. "So, why not?"

"If they accidentally flip the switch, then no more car, television, phone."

"Oh. Right."

Jubilee shrugged. "Hey, X-Men Only is still better than nothin'. We have a defense that's more than the advice: Don't get collared.

"Forge, if I were not engaged to the hottest man alive—second hottest because Taye Diggs—then I'd kiss that gorgeous mouth of yours."

Forge gave a low laugh. "Shane's a lucky man, Jubilee."

"Sooo, who else knows?" Rogue asked, turning the small black circle in her hand.

Forge gave the rainbow eyed vixen a bland look. "Remy helped develop it and he's facility security, of course he knows."

Rogue's cheeks went hot. "It was only going to be a prank. A tiny one. Miniscule."

Forge held his wide-palmed hand out and waited until she'd placed the small device there. "We'll have a training then I'll see if I can trust you." Turning back to his work station, dismissing the pair behind him, he was grinning.

And Rogue was laughing as she left his workspace. Still laughing when she was caught around the waist and someone nuzzled her neck.

Jubilee, smiling bright as her fireworks, said, "I'll leave you to it. I'm going to go distract my very conscientious fiancé."

As she sashayed off, Rogue turned in Remy's arms. "She really likes to say fiancé. Like, every third sentence has to have it in there. We could make a drinkin' game."

Remy looped his arms around her, settled his hands at the small of her back. "Ain't fair none, you wid dat healin' factor."

"You got one too, Cajun," reminded and accompanied by a sassy lift of an eyebrow.

"Not as good a model as yours."

Rogue gasped, leaned back. "So you admit Logan's better at somethin' than you? I gotta call him." She turned to break the hold, apparently eager to make the Wolverine laugh; Remy made a low rumble in his throat and pulled her back. "What? You jus' said it."

"And if you ever tell him I'm'a deny it."

Rogue rolled her eyes, currently a luminous green with rings of gold firing to red. "Like he'd believe you."

"Then I guess I jus' have t'stop you."

At that, she laughed. Hard. "Sure. An' how you plannin' to do that, Swamp Rat?"

Remy leaned in close and murmured in her ear. "I was thinkin' about tyin' you to the bed with some silk scarves, since we don't need them so much for other things anymore."

Rogue was no longer laughing. She rubbed her cheek against Gambit's, looped her arms over his neck. "Remy," her voice was breathy. She could feel his smile as his mouth skimmed along her neck. He pulled her hips in towards his; that made it hard to think but still: "I can think of a half-dozen ways I could get out of that. Still tellin'." Then, she ran.

He followed, chasing her right past Jubilee and a dazzled looking Shane. Rogue opted for the stairs, dashing down them two at a time but Remy seemed to only need to touch every third or fourth stair and caught her just as she banged through the door to their floor.

But he didn't exact retribution there. He tossed her over his shoulder and marched with the gasp-laughing Mississippian to their rooms. He bypassed his old room, now their sitting room and one that wasn't un-fun for shenanigans, and headed straight for their shared bedroom. He locked the door and tossed his lush and wriggling heap on the bed.

"Now what?"

"Now I distract you."

And he did, with his rich, southern voice and his quick, hungry hands. He skimmed her hair back and said, "When you laugh, Anna Marie, everything in my world is bright. Bon Dieu but I love you.

"Remy," she managed on a breath, inarticulate in the face of such profound emotion. But he knew that her heart was his, that she stumbled with words when it meant the most and that he, without question, meant the most.

So he smiled, a slow curve of his lips, and drew closer with every ragged breath she took until their mouths were barely a breath apart. "J'etends ta voix dans tous les bruits du monde."

"Is that a good thing or a bad one?" asked with a laugh that trembled, as she did, poised between the lean line of his body cantilevered over hers and the soft bed behind her

"The perfect thing, catin." Gambit cupped the back of her head with one hand, the other following the taut line of the arm supporting her weight until his fingers tangled with hers on the mattress. "Your voice is like a siren song and a benediction and it's the call that leads me home, Anna Marie, because you're my home. My best friend. My lover. My love."

When their mouths touched it wasn't just heat, although that was a conflagration; it was a promise, a promise to keep being home, to fight for that, for each other. He followed her down to the bed, bodies sliding together with fluid familiarity.

Remy gave a ragged moan as her legs opened, as he settled between them. "Catin."

Rogue laughed, sultry and sure. Her fingers peeled his shirt up and they both peeled it away so her hands, half-covered in supple leather, could roam taut muscle and sensitive golden skin. "I thought you were gonna teach me a lesson, Cajun."

His hips rolled as wicked as the look he gave her. Rogue gasped sharply before her body went supple, arching into his, seeking more. "Don' you worry, chère, I got lots to teach you, but that don't mean I cain't tell you I love you while I do."

"How 'bout you jus' show me?"

Remy's fingertips hesitated at the bottom of Rogue's shirt, his fingertips tantalizingly close to the skin beneath but not touching. Even when she writhed. "How 'bout you have some patience, mon ange?"

"Remy," her voice strained as she did, no longer playful because his hips were moving against her, rolling and pressing.

Remy kissed the side of her neck, drug his nose along flushed skin, taking in the hot apple spice of her. His breath washed the shell of Rogue's ear as he whispered, "I had you this mornin', catin, all warm and wet from the shower. You cried my name. That not enough for you? The way I licked you until you pulled my hair and screamed?"

The memory sharpened desire. She tipped her head, offering her neck for his exploring mouth, but gripped his hips hard as he continued that slow grind. "Remy, damnit, I cain't never get enough. Would you please," but her voice broke. He bit her ear and worked his hips and Anna Marie fell apart without having had not one article of clothing removed.

Dazed, Anna felt dazed, when she came back down. It could have been minutes or hours later but Remy was there, above and around her, solid. His eyes were fire-bright and for a moment she couldn't breathe. He was beautiful and fierce. And hers. In this very room she'd wished for just this and thought she couldn't have it. Now, now he pressed a kiss to her forehead, skimmed his lips along each temple, her cheeks, chin and then the tip of her nose.

"Remy," sighed so quietly she wasn't sure it was audible.

"Mm. I love puttin' that look on your face, Anna Marie, hearin' the way your voice gets husky." The way it seemed to shatter on his name. "Love how you're all pink from pleasure and," he drew a finger over her cheek, "I can still see you blush 'cause I'm talkin' about it."

Turning her face, Anna nipped his finger. "Remy. Damn it. I want more."

"You sure are insatiable," he teased.

But she surprised him, turning eyes deep-forest green up to him and said, in a voice as serious and seductive as her eyes, "I want your skin and your pleasure. I want your body and mine together. I want you, Remy, all of you."

She took his breath and then she took him.

After, a sheet tucked haphazardly between them as protection, tangled and sated, warm and sleepy, Remy kissed the curls tickling his nose. Rogue stirred, tracing a still-gloved fingertip over his chest. "I need a nap, me. You just settle down." Remy's chuckle shook her, as she was using his chest for a pillow, and made her lips curve.

"I'm settled, me. You de one came three times, petite bouche. Though I guess, considerin' other things, little mouth don' really," a hand slapped over his offending mouth. Remy, he just howled a laugh into it while Anna Marie glowered, all lethargy forgotten. Remy licked her palm and tugged his girl back in. "Ain't no on here but us, Anna Marie. Nothin' to be ashamed of."

"I ain't ashamed. I jus' don't wanna…we don't gotta say…" When he chuckled again, the sound a dark stroke down her spine, Rogue snarled. She knew he felt the way she curved herself against him; she decided when you were in love with seduction himself your only option was distraction. "If you don't behave I ain't givin' you your present."

Eyes a sinful gleam over a slow curling smile, Remy didn't even try to resist the opening. "As I recall, I was gonna use a similar line on you. You tell and I won't ever do that thing you liked so much." She rolled her eyes. "Guess we both know that ain't true 'cause I like it just as much."

"Remy," said between gritted teeth.

"Anna," he said as if he wasn't about to give over to a bout of shouting laughter, "why you givin' me another present? 'Cause I liked the very fine one you jus' gave me."

Blushing, huffing, Rogue rolled over and pulled open a drawer. Then she sat up, the sheet pooling around her hips, and slapped an envelope on her smug lover's chest.

Remy, captivated by the lick of curls over skin and lush breasts, by the roughened-red and still peaked tips, didn't bother with the papers. He reached up to shape her with his hand. His thumb skimmed the nipple he'd bitten more than once as they'd rocked together on the bed. "Come closer," ordered, teasing forgotten.

Rogue leaned forward, a moan on her own lips, and braced herself on his chest. On the envelope. She jerked back and swatted his hand. "Damn it, Remy. How the hell do you do that? I swear I could just live in this bed with you. We'd starve to death, sure, but who would give a damn?"

Chuckling, his swatted hand falling to Rogue's sheet covered thigh, Remy didn't deny a thing. "I'm happy I keep you entranced."

"Thought you were gonna say satisfied," muttered darkly.

"That too." When her eyes sparked dangerously, he rubbed her thigh soothingly. "What about this gift? Looks like paper. You get left enough money that we can buy an island?"

When he started to really settle in, tucking his free hand behind his head, Rogue tweaked his nipple. Remy bared his teeth. "Don't tease if you ain't plannin' on finishin' what you start." Which earned another blush from his companion. He loved that blush; love that she blushed while he was steeped in the apple scent of her, the impression of her body under and over his still tingling along his nerves. Life was maybe perfect, no?

"No, I didn't get left any money. Besides, we got the lake house. We got our little piece of paradise. Now, please," and it was a struggle to say it, to focus when she wanted to lap him up again, "open it."

His expression indulgent, Remy sat up; they sat facing each other, knees touching in the shared tangle of sheets. The envelope was unmarked but stuffed to near bursting. After turning it in his deft fingers, inspecting it, Remy unsealed the thing only to have pages spring out; some were white, others a pale blue but with them all came a smell and with that smell a memory. "Anna?" That was all the question Remy could manage, his eyes flipping up to her face then back to the scattered pages in his lap.

When Remy didn't follow her name up with action, when he didn't move for the longest time, Rogue reached out and picked one up. She smoothed it for him. "They're yours. From, from your family. I wrote to them a while ago but then we left and they had to be forwarded from the mansion. I…"

"They'll get in trouble for this. The peace—"

"They won't," she was quick to interrupt. "It's worked out. I worked it out. Twice a year. Twice a year ya'll can exchange letters. It ain't perfect but it's done."

"How?"

"That don't matter. It's…you can tell them about your life and hear about theirs."

"Anna."

"Oh, God. I thought this would be…a good thing. I thought….you read my journals from when we were apart and so I thought…I thought…. I'm sorry. I'll take 'em back. I'll come up with an excuse." She moved to her knees, started gathering the pages. The crinkle of the paper seemed loud as gunshots. Then his hands caught her face and, looking at him, she saw the sheen of tears. Anna remembered the feeling of running from him, running to Scotland and away from Remy; the guilt and the gutted, hollow sensation from then wasn't dissimilar to now. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

He shook his head, once, sharply. "No, no. You're a miracle, you know dat? A pure damn miracle an' I know I don't deserve you, me, but I ain't ever lettin' you go free."

"You're not mad," whispered.

"Stunned. Terrified. But never mad." His thumbs ran soothingly along her cheek bones. "Did you meet them? Tante and m'brother? Did you?"

She nodded between his cupped palms. "Yes."

"You didn't tell me."

"I wanted to wait so this would all be a surprise." She laughed as he did. "I guess that part worked out; I sure surprised you."

"You did, Anna Marie, from the moment I clapped eyes on you." He let her go and carefully gathered the letters she hadn't, took the ones from her hands, and set all of them aside.

Anna's eyes tracked the the pages, the years they held. "Aren't you gonna read 'em?"

"Oui, but not now. They'll keep. They'll be there."

As he drew her in for a kiss, she laughed, startled, her attention drawn back to the pile on the nightstand. "Well, so will I."

"But they can wait."

"So can—"

Remy kissed her quiet. "Non. Non, Anna Marie. You're first and last and always. We done our waitin'; now come here and let me love you."

Author's Note:

"J'etends ta voix dans tous les bruits du monde." From a poem by Paul Éluard: "I Hear your voice in all the world's noise"

I guess this is it. My final note on this story. You all have been fantastic. Thank you for all of the encouragement, for all of the comments, for sticking with me for two years, an unplanned hiatus, and a less than predictable posting schedule. Thank you for the commiseration over All the Things that have happened over that time: lost pets, new cars, lost jobs, new jobs.

Ya know, as I got closer to the end, I think I got a little frantic; I was eager to be done and also nervous about it. It felt like I raced to the finish, probably because I'd had so many different version getting me to that speech Rogue makes. (Fun fact: I wrote that nearly a year ago.) I feel like the epilogue maybe smooths that back out and provides as much of a wrap to the Case of the Collar as I can manage.

It's been especially lovely to know that this helped some of you through hard times, even if was just passing the time. I'm glad you laughed and cried and hated them and loved them because I did all of that too. I'm probably not going to start something immediately, but if you liked the story and think you'd like something else I wrote, put me on author alerts so we can do this together again soon.

I love and adore you all and can't say enough how very, very thankful I am you spent some time reading what started off as a way for me to pass time at work with my favorite fictional couple. I hope you all have just the best of All the Things. You totally deserve them.