She's been rocking on the back porch swing overlooking the garden for hours. Liv has laid his tousled head against her knees, and Becca is sleeping, cheek pillowed on the crook of her arm. Amanda is nestled against her mother as if she were meant to fill this sweet ache in her heart.

It is a while before she feels that tingle in her spine letting her know Remy is watching. When she looks up, he is standing in the doorway.

She smiles softly, shyly.

His eyes soften.

She thinks they feel the same, that they'll hold this picture... Forever.



For years, Rogue has been looking forward to what life could be if only... But in the half-light before dawn, she wakes in her husband's embrace and looks back. From the time she was a little girl, she wanted the white picket fence, a little house to call her own, a family to treasure and love.

It nearly chokes her as it washes over her, a wave of gratitude that her cup could be so full.

"Chère..." His voice is husky with sleep. He holds her closer, breathes deeply against her. "Y' okay?"

Her eyes close without her choosing. "Yes."



The girls take her out in some odd reverse of the baby shower.

"It's been a month, girl," Lorna informs her bluntly. "Kitty's off her honeymoon and the two of you need to come up for air."

Which air seems to mean shopping, lunch at their favorite bistro, and lots of laughter with Ororo, Moira, Alison, Jubilee, and everyone else she didn't even know she was missing so much until they kidnapped her and the kids.

"What about Remy?" she did manage to ask—once.

Jubilee waves her off. "Logan's taking the boys out."

"Motorcycles," Kitty grimaces. "We have taste."



Rogue asks Mercy to be her godmother and Logan to be godfather. Mercy cries. Logan stares as if she's asked him to turn into a bunny rabbit.

Remy can hardly be separated from their new baby. He's always kissing her, holding her, telling her stories, tickling her toes, and coaxing out that giggly sound she loves to make. Rebecca decides that 'Manda' is her baby. Liv asks Mama if the stork will take her back.

Henri informs Rogue that he's been studying up, and she certainly won't have to take the children somewhere else to get help with their powers.



A feeling of apprehension churns in his gut until he finally sees her, flushed and tired, but triumphant, snuggling a soft, squirming bundle in her arms. Remy wraps an arm around her gently and stares down into his daughter's face.

She is perfect: ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes, a button nose, happy noises, and kicking feet. He cannot help but lean over and nuzzle the top of her downy head. She scrunches her face and blinks at him.

"What shall we call her?" Rogue whispers in his ear.

He shivers at the contact.

"Amanda Kayla," he answers softly. Beloved.



He loves to feel their baby kicking in her womb. He'll lay his hand gently against her stomach at night, and it feels like tiny heartbeats in his palm.

Rogue is as often asleep, dreaming, silky hair fanning over the pillow and the arm he's leaning on, and as often awake, sleepy eyes fluttering open to watch him curiously.

"What are you thinking, Remy?" she whispers softly, her breath like a butterfly kiss against his shoulder.

He shakes his head, unable to put this feeling into words. He loves being a père. He thinks these heartbeats are somehow his own.



The bride is beautiful.

He has eyes only for the maid of honor and their flower girl.

Years ago, he would not have believed he could love anybody as much as he had loved Belladonna, but now, he sees Rogue walking down the aisle toward him and knows he could never have loved Belladonna as much as he loves her.

Rogue smiles at him softly, like she's keeping a secret. She's as radiant as the day he married her and absolutely beautiful with child.

'I love you,' she mouths.

He feels dizzy with how very much he loves her too.



Piotr adjusts his tie one more time, and finally Remy loses it.

Piotr looks at him in the mirror. "This is not funny, Remy." He sounds a touch hurt and a lot exasperated with his best man.

Remy shakes his head. "Dieu, the way you've been carrying on, you'd think the girl hadn't practically asked you to marry her."

"She did not."

"So the topic of May being a good month for weddings was completely random?" Remy gives him an amused smirk.

Piotr shakes his head and returns his attention to his own image. He sighs. And grabs another tie.



"Logan asked 'bout calling her Kayla," he tells Rogue while sliding under the covers.

She scrambles upright, and he frowns as it pulls her out of his grasp. "He what?"

"Rogue," he says impatiently, reaching for her again.

But she pays his action little heed, instead staring, shocked. "Logan asked that?"


She answers softly, "That was the name of someone he loved."

"Who?" pipes up a sharp, young voice from the foot of their bed.

Both Remy and Rogue stare toward the interloper before Rogue shakes her head ruefully and dives for him.


Olivier shrieks.

Remy frowns thoughtfully.



It's one of those moments. The mighty Wolverine comes down from on high and sits across from Remy, the one man he's never quite got along with—stealing his favorite cub from under his nose might have something to do with it—and offers him a truce.

At least, that's how Remy chooses to interpret the simple grunt and afterthought of, "I guess you keep her happy."

He takes another swig of his drink before answering. "I try to."

"You pick the middle name yet?"

Remy eyes Logan dubiously, but the feral shrugs, seemingly nonchalant.

"Thought you might like Kayla."