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Warnings: Mature themes throughout the story, dealing with rape, torture and the psychological traumas of imprisonment in a concentration camp. Sexually explicit scene in Chapter 23.

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Author's Notes



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--"


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..."


There was a time he believed in things that could never be. For this moment, he believes again.



Read the Author's Notes.


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