Autumn leaves fall from the trees to swirl about the house and Rogue who is standing at the front gate, staring. It's early afternoon, the children are down for their naps, and Remy is staring at her from the porch. Her hands whiten on the picket gate.

She won't cry.

Remy isn't on the porch anymore. Somehow he's already with her, his warm arms pulling her into his embrace. She buries her face in the front of his coat.

"I don't want to leave," she whispers.

He hushes her. "I know, chérie. I know."

They stay like that a while.