Title: No Regrets
Fandom: X-Men
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Gambit/Rogue
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: Remy has no regrets.
Word Count: 1,600
Written For: Fan FlashWorks 403: Je ne regrette rien, Lands of Magic: The Creative Court: April Showers, and Fannish 50 #45. Rogue
Warnings: Future AU
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.








She stood alone at the window, a hand unconsciously placed against her flat belly. It had been ten years. Ten years since they'd given up the live of superheroes. Ten years since they'd come to her husband's home and settled down. Ten years since they'd retired together to build a family. Ten years since they'd given up all the hopes and dreams they'd had to build a life elsewhere, away from Remy's home, away from the South, in the bustling metropolis of New York.

She didn't know when her husband had stopped mixing things on the stove top, but suddenly he was standing behind her, wrapping her in his arms that were every bit still as strong and reassuring as they had been all those years ago. Their lives had cahnged so much, and yet after the move, stayed so much the same. "Chere," he whispered, his breath hot and sensual against her ear lobe, "what's on your mind, m'Queen?"

She still tingled when he called her that, still tingled at the touch of his warm and calloused hand on her skin, still tingled at just the thought of kissing him. So much had changed yet so much had stayed the same. She still loved him every bit as she had long before she'd ever allowed him to kiss her for the first time, but had it been worth it to him? Here he was in the swamp he'd barely been able to wait to leave at one time, here he was back in his homeland, so to speak, but without running either of the Guilds.

She knew the other Cajuns still whispered about them, the thieves longing to have their Prince back and the Assassins longing to have him as their ruler. She knew he was tired of his 9-to-5 job (they both were), and she knew he still missed his glory days, both as a thief and an X-Man. Heck, she still missed flying across the globe, helping young mutants. And yet, they still didn't have a young mutant of their own. "Do you evah miss it?" she asks, her accent having grown even thicker, even though she knows, no matter what answer he gives her, he does.

"Do I miss stealin' for a livin', never knowin' where my next meal's comin' from, havin' to do despicable t'ings just to survive? 'Course not, ma cherie!"

She kept her eyes on the horizon, the sounds of the crickets and frogs calling for more rain loud in her ears. April was a month known for birthing, known for young of all sorts, and yet she still hadn't been able to give him a child. "Do you ever -- "

"Rogue, mon sweet, sweet paramour, what's gotten into you? I don' miss any o' that, cherie. I only played hero for you. You know dis."

She frowned. "We weren't even a thing when -- "

"No. Stormy was different. I don' regret helpin' her. She was a child, or so I thought, trapped in a bad situation. But I only stuck around wit' de X-Men because o' you." He tried again, gently, to turn her in his arms, but she wouldn't budge.

"That can't be, Remy," she said, shaking her head. "All the times Ah -- "

"All de times you rebuffed me, dis ol' Cajun kept tryin'."

"You're not old," she murmured. They weren't old. They couldn't be old. Their chances of living the lives for which they had yearned for could not be over. Their chances of having the family they had both dreamed of when they'd made an early retirement from the superhero game could not be over. Especially having proven so fruitless.

"Chere," Remy whispered, his breath tickling the fine hairs on the back of her neck, "turn 'round. Look at me." He tried again to move her, but once more, as stubborn as she'd been all those years ago when he'd first set his mind to the fact that she was the one he wanted, the only woman in all the world, or any other world to which they'd been for that matter, with whom he could see himself settling down and building a life, she refused to be moved. "We Swamp Rats got a sayin', mon amour. Je ne regrette rien!" He felt her frown and grasped that moment to twirl her around in his arms.

"What's that mean?" she asked softly, her eyes still not meeting his. They were ghosted by the past, and Remy's heart hurt to see the expression he knew so very well in her eyes. He'd sworn he'd make her happy, and most of the time, he was able to make good on that promise. But today marked a certain anniversary that neither of them could, or would, ever forget. They'd thought she was pregnant, but they'd been wrong. Although she had come to control her powers, she still had been unable to give birth or even conceive a child.

But that didn't matter to him. It never had. He'd been scared of the idea of fatherhood, especially with his own Swamp Rat of a dad being such a disappointment, but he'd been happy to have her in his life, doing whatever she wanted to do. The idea of having a child had excited her, and so he, in turn, had been excited. He had hurt when they'd learned the truth, but the simple fact was, as long as he had her love, there was nothing he could regret. "No regrets," he whispered, and held her still as he raised her bangs out of her eyes.

Gazing directly down into her emerald orbs, he confessed, "I was lookin' for de prize to end all prizes when I met Stormy all those years 'go, chere. An' I got dat prize, only it ended up not bein' what I an' every other lowly thief had thought it to be. You're dat prize, mon amour, de prize to beat all other prizes. Love is de greatest conquest of dem all, de greatest prize, de greatest treasure." He pressed his lips softly to her forehead, still so thankful that he could actually touch her without hurting either of them. One kiss from her had always been worth death, but that first kiss they'd shared, so long ago when they'd thought Xavier's son had been successful in destroying their world, had put her in such emotional trauma that it had actually not been worth it, not because she'd hurt him, almost killed him, but because it had hurt her so badly.

"I regret nothin', chere. I don' regret comin' home. I damn sure don' regret buildin' a life wit' you." "In fact, if anyt'in' -- " He dropped, suddenly, down to one knee. She was clearly startled already when he gripped her hand. "I'd like t' do it all over again, wit' you, only an' always wit' you, mon trésor." She laughed, but though the sound was as musical and thrilling to him as it had always been, even cathartic to his very soul, he now had his mind made up, just as firmly as it had been when he'd first set eyes on her decades ago. "Will you marry me again, Rogue?"

"Remy, we're already married!" she thrilled.

"I know," he said, now gripping both her hands, "but I want to do it again. I want all o' New Orleans to see just how wealthy I am, blessed, because I have you as mon bride. T' Hell wit' de guilds. I have everythin' I could ever want right here with you!" He moved with swiftness he had not used since their last battle, raising up, sweeping her into his arms, and twirling her around their humble kitchen.

Outside, the rain was beginning to pelt again, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter to him if the guilds burned down all of Louisiana, or it was all washed away into one giant swamp. Nothing mattered as long as he had her. As long as she loved him, he'd never have any regrets but would always be the luckiest, most blessed man in all the galaxies. "Say you will!" he persuaded. "Say you'll marry me all o'er again, mon amour!"

Rogue was laughing now, squealing with delighted giggles the likes of which he doubted she'd ever emitted in her actual youth. When he stopped spinning them around, she clutched his ponytail, running his brown hair through her nimble fingers, before yanking his head down. "Of course, Ah will, Cajun!" She kissed him long and deep. Secretly, both supposed it couldn't hurt to try for a child again, and even if they never had one, as long as they had each other, that was truly all they could ever want. But after all, there had been scores of people who had told them both that they would never be able to touch, they'd never be able to act on their love, and even that she would never love him as much as he did her. They'd all been wrong! Why not add one more thing to that ever growing list of impossible things they'd made happen, as they belonged, together?

Remy carried Rogue over to the stove, turned the fire down, and started to turn toward their bedroom. "Nah," she whispered heatedly against his grizzled cheek. "Make love t' me right here."

"Whatever mon Queen wants," Remy purred against her lips, "mon Queen gets." He set her on the counter, turned the fire back up, and did indeed make love to her right there all night long.




The End