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Rogue woke up drenched in sweat, hair sticking to her face.
"Agh," she muttered.
She moved the blanket aside, trying to get rid of the disgusting feeling. As she did, she glanced to her side, expecting to find Remy—only to find nothing. Her stomach twisted, making her curl in on herself.
"Great," she muttered.
She pushed herself up, only to be thrown back down by nausea.
"Aw, c'mon!"
At thirty-six weeks pregnant, her body wouldn't stop making demands. And oh, how she hated it.
"You are a troublemaker, huh?" she murmured, placing a hand on her stomach.
You're gonna hurt him
She jerked her hand away.
"Shut up," she muttered, standing up again.
"Talkin' to yourself now, chère?" Gambit said from the doorway.
"Well, ya' married me, didn't you?" she shot back, closing the distance between them.
Gambit tilted her chin. "You look like you ain't got a wink of sleep tonight."
"I ain'—" She swallowed, nausea rising again. "She's jus' as demanding as her swamp-rat daddy—" she added, glaring at him. "I need to shower. I feel disgusting."
"I'll help you, chérie."
"I can do it myself, ya know?"
"Yeah," he said quietly. "But you ain't."
The bathroom was quiet.
Rogue sat on the edge of the tub, knees pulled to her chest. Gambit adjusted the water to the temperature she liked—hot enough to burn, but not enough to sting—and began wetting her hair.
His fingers worked in the shampoo, gentle, steady.
She tensed under his touch.
You’re gonna lose control.
His hands didn’t falter, working through the knots, never pulling too hard.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
He rinsed her hair, and she let out a breath—relief loosening her shoulders.
He’d stop now.
Or so she thought.
"What ya lookin' at?" she asked, glancing at the phone in his hand.
"Wanna make sure I get your curls right."
Rogue immediately tensed. More contact.
"Remy, there's no need to—"
"Relax, mon amie. You married a professional."
"I don't think it's a good idea, and I'm tired, and my control—" she said, spiraling.
"Chère." He crouched to her height, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Gambit ain't goin' anywhere."
Wrapped in a towel, with her husband blow-drying her hair, Rogue couldn’t help but feel nostalgic.
The girl that would never be loved was being loved. The man unable to love was loving. The on-and-off couple was somehow walking toward forever.
It felt too perfect.
Almost too perfect
Remember what happens when everything feels calm
It won't last
"Chère?"
She blinked, pulled back into the moment.
"Is this dry enough?"
Rogue looked at her hair. It was styled differently than usual, but for some reason, it felt right.
She let the towel drop, admiring her pregnant body.
"You are still as stunning as when we met, mon ange," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her collarbone.
"And you're still as much of a charmer," she shot back.
"I can't help it," he said, voice edged with a grin. "Especially knowin’ the child you're carryin' is mine."
His hand lingered at her side, warm and steady.
"You're such an idiot," she said, a soft laugh slipping out.
He smiled.
"I'll get you some clothes, amour."
Now dry and clothed, Gambit guided Rogue to their divan sofa.
"Gambit'll wash the sheets when I'm back from work," he said, setting a pillow. "Till then, you sleep here, okay? You need to rest. I'll bring you what you need."
"Sugah, I swear I can still use my legs," she said, lying down.
"I know." He pulled a blanket over her. "And I don't much care."
She woke to sunlight spilling across the room.
She didn’t remember when she’d fallen asleep—but she remembered pretending to be asleep so he’d leave. He wouldn’t have otherwise. He’d kissed her cheek, then her stomach, before going.
Her hand drifted to her phone.
She's dead
"What?" she whispered.
Check if she's moving.
"I'm not gonna listen to you," she muttered, unlocking her phone.
If you checked, you could save her
You don't want anyone else to die because of you, right?
The color drained from her face.
She pressed her belly—lightly at first.
A kick.
She exhaled shakily.
Alive.
She reached for her phone again.
You pressed too hard
"Shut up."
No messages from Gambit.
None at all.
That was unusual.
He's leaving
She froze.
Why did you think you would be different?
Her gaze flicked around the room—his cards on the table, his coat over the chair.
He wouldn’t leave without them.
…Would he?
She opened his chat, fingers shaking.
"Is everything okay?"
Five minutes.
Nothing.
13:25.
He should be home.
"Sugah, you there?"
She deleted it.
Too much.
He might leave her.
But he wouldn’t leave their baby.
…Would he?
He hates you
That made no sense.
He married her.
He's tired of you being like this
Tears slipped down her face.
You are not who you were
He's tired of your sadness
The sound of keys cut through everything.
The door opened.
"Bonsoir, chè—" He stopped. "Chère… is everything okay?"
She broke.
She rushed to him, sobbing into his chest.
"I'm… I'm so sorry…"
"Hey, hey." His hands were gentle, steady. "I'm here. Nothin' to be sorry for."
"B-but I'm sad and I'm too much work—"
"Anne-Marie, it's okay—"
He's lying
She pulled back.
"You're lying."
"No, chère. I ain't."
He doesn’t know
He will leave
"You don’t understand," she rushed. "What if I get worse? What if I hurt her, or you, or—"
Her hand flew to her stomach.
Too hard
She gasped, pulling away.
"Rogue." His voice grounded her. He guided her hand back gently. "Easy. Breathe."
"What if I can't control it?" she whispered. "What if one day you wake up and I'm just—too much?"
He already thinks that
"You're not answerin' me," she said, more desperate. "You're not sayin' you'll stay."
He lifted her chin.
"Mon chérie… what did I say in my vows?"
"When… you feel like a stranger…"
"What else?"
"When… sadness, fear, or… anger paints you…"
"Always you, my Rogue," he said, as he kissed her nose.
She shook her head.
"That was before."
Say it again
Make him promise
"You're gonna leave."
He rested his forehead against hers.
"I'm here right now."
"But tomorrow—", his finger pressed against her lips
"Then tomorrow, I'm here too."
That's not a promise
"I ain't leavin' you alone with this," he said softly.
He will
She hesitated. Closed her eyes. Breathed.
Then leaned into him anyway.
"…Okay."
His arms tightened around her.
"We'll get through this."
She didn’t argue.
But she held on tighter.