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After a week straight of rain, Aimée LeBeau was more than ready to escape the confines of the house, even if said house was the rather grand headquarters of the Thieve’s Guild. Remy really couldn’t blame his daughter for the predilection to splash in puddles the moment the rain ceased for more than a couple of minutes. After all, the deary days had left him more than a little restless, and he had more opportunities to escape over the last week than Aimée had at her disposal.
Remy sat on the porch swing with a tablet propped on his knee while he watched Aimée play. In contrast to the nigh on endless grey days, she was a bright splash of color in her yellow rain slicker and purple polka-dot wellies. She held her green umbrella close over her head. The umbrella resembled a frog with pop up white eyes attached to the top of the brolly and a smile printed on the front. Aimée crouched down low, then gave a long hop as she leap frogged from puddle to puddle up the front walk.
“Papa, can we—“ Aimée turned towards the porch and froze mid-sentence. Her umbrella, forgotten, slipped back and down until the top of the eyes dipped into the the puddles. Her red on black eyes were wide with awestruck wonder as her gaze fixed something above the rooftop.
Setting aside the digital blueprints he intended to review, Remy moved towards the edge of the porch. Though he craned his neck, he couldn’t catch sight of what drew his daughter’s attention. “What is it petite?”
“Look!” She pointed up at the sky. “A rainbow!”
Leaping down the steps, he stood beside Aimée and followed her gaze. A full arc arched across the sky. The pale colors possessed a vibrant promise against the grey which had been haunting them for day. “That’s mighty pretty.”
“Oui.” Aimée grabbed his hand and tugged him in the direction of the rainbow. “C’mon. Let’s go. Quick!”
“D’accord. D’accord,” he agreed readily. As eager as his offspring to stretch his legs and explore after days cooped up inside, Remy indulged her on a romp through the bayou. He knew these swamps well, having extensively explored them over the years with his brother and cousins. As long as Aimée stayed with him, he didn’t worry about her getting into too much mischief.
They brushed past trees hung heavy with Spanish moss. A chorus of insects hummed to life, as ready as their human compatriots to take advantage of the break in the rain. The heavy scent of rain soaked soil and newly bloomed flowers filled the air. With all the moisture in the air, the humidity had risen, causing hair and clothes to stick to clammy skin.
Oblivious to everything but her quests, Aimée wielded her collapsed umbrella as a sword, swiping at plants and cleaning their path. With a subtle word or a gentle pressure to her shoulder, Remy guided their path along the edge of the swap in the same direction Aimée led.
Coming upon a fallen log, Remy helped steady her as Aimée climbed up to the top of the sloping surface. Her foot slid on the waterlogged bark covered in slippery moss. Remy stabilized her as she stretched up onto her toes. She peered through the gap in the canopy. A frown furrowed her brow.
“What’s wrong?” Remy looked up, reveling in the weak sunlight warming his face.
“I can’t see it anymore.” The tail end of her sentence curled up into a whine. Scrubbing at her face, her grubby fingers she left a streak of dirt along her forehead and dying her locks of white hair a muddy brown. She slid down the far side of the log, squelching in the muck mired trail. “C’mon Papa, we gotta go further in.”
His long legs easily stepped over the obstacle. “All right, petite. We’ll keep searching a bit longer.”
“No, we have to keep going 'til we find it.” Aimée insisted. She ducked under his hand and took off at a run.
“Aimée, wait,” Remy called after his daughter. His tone slipped into a register of command usually reserved for training apprentice thieves and potential X-Men. It was a tone which demanded immediate obedience and left no room for protest. “Stop.”
Even at seven, she was already training as a thief and an X-Man, and knew what that tone meant. Heeding his instruction a moment too late, Aimée tumbled to the ground as the path beneath her foot gave way and she lost her balance. Landing on her backside, she slipped several feet down the path before Remy caught up with her. He scooped up his daughter, not caring that the mud caked to her slicker transferred to the front of his shirt. Murmuring comforting noises in French, he soothed his youngest daughter. Her lips trembled and she blinked away silent tears from the corner of her eyes. She appeared more startled than badly injured, but Remy wanted to make certain.
He placed her on a sturdy lower branch of a nearby tree. It reminded him of the one he used to climb when he wanted to escape the noise and chaos of the LeBeau household. With a clean corner of his shirt, he brushed the dirt way from her hands. No skin appeared broken on her hands or elbows where she caught herself. Though she’d be sporting a set of impressive bruises for the next few days. The tear at the knee of her pants and the welling of red, hinted at where she split the skin of her knee on a rock. Gently he rotated her wrists and ankles. When he touched her right foot, she winced.
“Well, it looks like you’ll live,” he said lightly as he wiped away the last of her tears with his thumb. Aimée was still a firm believer in kisses as the ultimate healer of wounds, so he brushed light kisses over her smarting palms and just above each knee. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as he helped her off the branch. Taking a moment to adjust his hold on her, he balanced her on his hip. “Though, we need to head back so we can clean up your owies.”
“No!” She tried to detangle herself from his hold, but he held fast. He didn’t want her walking on that ankle. Not until he had a better idea how badly it was injured.
Remy combed his fingers through Aimée’s hair. “Shh, petite. It’s okay. We’ll explore later.”
Vehemently, she shook her head. “It’ll be too late.”
“Too late for what?” There was more to this than just a romp in the swamp.
“To find the gold.” She sniffed and buried her face against his shoulder.
A flash of confusion crossed his face. Gold? What gold? If anything they were chasing rainbows…oh….
“Emil said there’s gold at the end of the rainbow. He said, that a true t’ief can steal the gold from the leprechaun guarding it,” she reported with all the sincerity of childhood innocence. “I want to be a real t’ief. Like you.”
“Oh, petite. Emil’s just being Emil. He’s pulling your leg. There’s no gold at the end of the rainbow and you don’t need to steal gold to prove you’re a real t’ief.” He kissed her forehead; the dirt and sweat transferring to his lips. Wrinkling his nose, he attempted to discretely wipe his lips on his shirtsleeve. “Besides, your momma would never forgive me if you become a full fledged thief before you become an X-Men.”
“But, I wanna be a t’ief,” she protested.
“How ‘bout we discuss this with your Momma when we get back to the house. And, I’ll show you how to make rainbows with a prism. That way you can tease Emil with indoor rainbows.” Remy gave her a squeeze and readjusted his hold one more time as he took a shortcut back towards the house.
“D’accord.” Aimée giggled, her injuries and disappointment momentarily forgotten. She settled her head against her Papa and before they reached the house, she was sound asleep.
——
As Remy reached the house, he spied Rogue waiting on the porch. With his hands full carrying their sleeping daughter, he grinned in greeting. He wasn’t certain which of them appeared dirtier, but the chagrin on his wife’s face indicated it probably didn’t matter. Still, she didn’t turn away when he leaned in for a kiss.
“Swamp rat, what have the two of you been up to? Did you fall into the swamp?” Rogue held the door, allowing them into the mud room. “Ya better not go any farther until we get some of that muck off of you. Tante Mattie will throw a fit if ya bring that mess into her kitchen.”
“Heaven forfend,” Remy gasped only half in mock horror. He’d throw a fit too if someone brought this much mud into his kitchen.
Rogue rummaged around in a nearby cabinet and found a large beach towel. Draping it over the front of her dress, she held her arms out. Remy carefully transferred a groggy Aimée to her momma. At the sight of her daughter’s injured knee and blossoming bruises, Rogue held in a gasp. “Seriously, what have the two of you been up to?”
Remy pulled out of his boots, then slipped out of his shirt, dropping the soiled clothing in the hamper. Crossing to the sink, he began scrubbing at the worse of the dirt clinging to his face and hands. “Chasing rainbows.”
“Did you catch it?” Rogue swayed side to side in the habitual movement of having one of their children in her arms.
“Not today, mon couer.” Clean enough to traipse through the house, Remy wrapped himself in another of the towels. Rogue pretended to pout as he covered up his bare torso. He leaned in close and kissed her temple.
“Later,” he promised. “For now, let’s get this petite cleaned and bandaged. Then, I think we might all go out for ice cream.”
“Sounds like a plan, sugah.” Rogue led the small party through the house to their suite of rooms.
There might not be a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but Remy knew that in his life with Rogue and their children he had found something far more valuable than gold.