Chapter Text
“Anna”, he breathed.
“Remy?!”
Anna.
The most amazing woman he had ever met. An unmatched beauty, a fiery temper and still an incomparable humanity and generosity.
Remy Lebeau has dated a lot of women in his life, but he loved only one. A love that lasted two years. Two years during which he lived, felt and enjoyed the world like he never had before, and never since. The two best years of his life, with her.
Anna. The woman who broke his heart when she left him behind. There was no resentment, no conflict. Juste something that didn't work for her. She wanted to take distance, to find who she was.
“I'll come back”, she had promised.
It's been six years.
Six years waiting for her. Loving her. Trying to forget her.
The warmth in her voice had faded, and a faint frown formed above her inquisitive gaze.
“What are you doing here?”
The accusation, not entirely certain, was clear. Remy raised his hands in innocence.
“I didn't know you live here”, he assured. “I needed a place and heard about the landlord here not being too demanding about his tenants.”
Anna's face softened. Even if Remy's preoccupation were more about Laura, finding an apartment was not easy for people with bright red irises.
She ran a hand through her hair and laughed awkwardly.
“Right, it's actually a good place to stay unnoticed. As long as you pay on time, they don't care about genetics.”
Remy raised an amused eyebrow.
“Nice way of saying it, chère.”
Her cheeks turned a pretty pink color at the familiar nickname and Remy put on a seductive smile.
It was so easy to fall back into old habits.
“Don't worry, my presence here is purely providentielle.”
She nodded as she watched him with a combination of fondness and wariness. He did the same and rediscovered the lines of her face, the expressiveness of her eyebrows, the curves of her body. Despite all these years, she had barely changed.
“It's good to see you”, she whispered. “You look great.”
It was his turn to nod. He was afraid to respond. She seemed fine. Fine like a person who had found who she is and knows what she needs.
Not him, apparently.
Which he already knew. He wasn't stupid enough to think anyone needed six years to fulfil an identity quest. But being confronted with it was still painful.
The silence between them stretched, filled with unspoken words and a pain masked by fake harmony. They could be friends. That was what they had decided, six years earlier. Just before they parted ways, to never contact each other again.
She gave him a sad smile, full of regrets, then stepped towards him. Remy blinked, unsettled by this sudden approach, but she veered off and crouched down in front of the first washing machine.
Remy swallowed a groan, remembering why he was here, and turned his attention back to his own laundry, still not running. He slammed the drum door again and pressed the buttons to try to start it, without success.
“Damn thing,” he grumbled.
Laughter rang out beside him. His ears practically perked up in delight at the familiar, almost forgotten sound.
“Need help? The one in the middle is pretty fussy, it's best to avoid using it.”
“I've already put the detergent in.”
She made a small noise of understanding and abandoned her own laundry to look at his machine. He immediately stepped back to give her room. She deactivated the buttons he had just pressed, then opened the drum herself. He saw her freeze for a moment. Sprawled there, between his t-shirts and dirty jeans, were Laura's clothes. A moment passed, then she clicked the drum back on. She reactivated the buttons and waited. At the lack of response, she frowned, then gave a well-aimed kick to the bottom right corner. Almost immediately, the machine started, capitulating under the threat.
“Great technique,” Remy commented with an admiring whistle.
She turned to face him, victory evident on her face.
“It took months of practice. I keep asking for it to get changed, but the owners here are so attached to their money that as long as we haven't been flooded, everything's fine.”
Remy let out a laugh, then watched her return to her own laundry, which she piled into her basket before heading over to one of the dryers.
“Another secret here?” he asked teasingly.
She turned to him, her brows furrowed and her eyes wary.
“I don't have any secrets.”
“I meant the dryers. I don't have to use torture to get them to work?”
“Oh,” she said, then looked down. “Sorry. I thought...no. No, they all work just fine.”
Once again, the silence. The unsaid. Her inability to look him in the eyes and to ask. Remy sighed.
“They are my daughter's. The clothes.”
Surprise washed over her face and she briefly bit her lips. It took her less than a minute before she smiled softly.
“It's great. I'm happy for you.”
Remy didn't reply. It would have been too strange, knowing full well he wasn't anyone's father. He just watched her as she loaded the dryer.
He must have looked like an idiot standing there doing nothing. Not to mention he really needed to get back to the apartment. Laura was left alone, though she was mesmerized by the television. Yet, he couldn't move. He couldn't be the one to end this moment. Not after all these years thinking about her and wondering what she'd become.
She didn't seem to have the same reservations. Once the dryer started, she picked up her empty basket and headed for the door.
He watched her stupidly, unable to form two coherent thoughts, let alone sentences, but he had to speak. He knew he had to say something.
“Anna, I...”
“It's not my name.”
“...what ?”
She turned around and gave him a small, rueful smile.
“I changed it. I'm Rogue now.”
Oh.
“Okay. Rogue.”
The name was weird to pronounce. Different. New and unexpected but somehow, it matched her. He wanted to say it again, to keep talking, to make this moment longer, but she didn't give him the chance.
She narrowed her eyes in a soft way that characterized her so well, transmitting all of her affection in one look, drowning out any dumb things he might have uttered.
“Welcome in the building, Remy”, she simply said before she left, closing the door behind her.
Once the shock had subsided, Remy left the laundry room as well. Rather than heading straight back up to the apartment, he did what he should have done from the start and went to the entrance hall, where the mailboxes and intercoms for the entire building were located. Glad he'd brought his phone, he scanned the names on them, taking pictures and creating a mental map of the building's layout. He easily found Rogue's name, carefully handwritten. There was no last name, no other information. Just that pseudonym. Even if he'd done his homework properly by identifying his neighbors beforehand, he probably wouldn't have known it was Anna.
He exhaled deeply and ran a hand through his hair.
Of all the scenarios he'd imagined, this one was completely unexpected. He'd given up on the idea of ever seeing her again. Her silence all these years had been enough to let him know she didn't want him anymore. He wasn't the type to impose himself where he wasn't wanted.
But here they were, living in the same building, using the same washing machines, walking the same hallways.
She was still as beautiful. Majestic and proud, true to herself. It was almost as if nothing had changed, as if everything was the same as six years earlier, when they had separated.
Except it wasn't. Things had changed. Her name wasn't the same anymore. Her feelings had faded. The corners of her eyes had crinkled slightly. They had become strangers. Distant old acquaintances.
Six years.
It was like a single grain in the hourglass, now that he’d seen her again. Despite that he knew better than anyone how long and lonely those six years had been. Especially the first few.
Remy rubbed his face wearily. He had to go back upstairs. Laura was waiting for him.
Back in the apartment, he found the little girl exactly where he'd left her: sitting on the floor in front of the television, her eyes fixed on the screen, her yellow blanket in her hands. Had she even noticed he was gone...?
“Hey petite”
Laura turned her head toward him, silently questioning him with her big green eyes.
“Let's go for a walk. It's time we got out of here.”
* * *
Remy didn't have a specific plan in mind, but as he strolled the surrounding streets, he realized there was a park less than two blocks from their apartment building, and decided it would be a good idea to take a look. Just as she had done at the rest area, Laura walked quietly behind him, her steps soft and her voice silent, giving him the impression of having acquired a second shadow, a little more tangible than the first one.
The park wasn't anything spectacular, but it offered a bit of greenery among the buildings. As they walked along the paths, Remy noticed the many children running and playing. It made him realize the stark contrast with Laura. While the other kids were moving around, talking loudly, pointing at trees, flowers, and animals, she barely moved, content to follow him, showing no particular interest in her surroundings. He greatly appreciated her calm demeanor, but the difference presented this way was so obvious it was disturbing. With any luck, this outing would help Laura behave like the other children, through mimicry or something.
Unfortunately, the magic didn't happen. At least not quickly enough for Remy's liking, who ended up turning abruptly toward her, intending to trigger the breakthrough.
“Don't you want to play? Look, there's a playground. Do you want to try the swing?"
She stared at him silently, her brows slightly furrowed.
“...do you know what a swing is? A slide?"
The girl's eyebrows deepened in confusion, and he slumped his shoulders, slightly defeated.
“It's that thing with all the other kids around."
Laura's gaze followed his finger and fell on the playground in question, where shouts echoed in a confused hubbub. She took a long, hard look at what was happening there, showing no sign of emotion.
“Do you want me to go with you? I can't go on the slide, but..."
He paused as she shook her head, refusing the offer. No, she didn't want to. Her eyes didn't leave the playground, though, and Remy did the same, watching the children rushing about in a chaotic and disorganized manner.
“You're scared. I get it, it’s a little intimidating."
She ignored him – he'd learned to sense the difference now, between the times when she listened without reacting and the times when she simply ignored him because she didn't like what he was saying – and he affectionately placed his hand on her head, laughing.
"We'll come back another day," he promised. "When there's less agitation. Do you want to go see the ducks?"
Unsurprisingly, she didn't reply, and he headed towards the small pond he could see in the distance. Perhaps the animals would interest her more than the swings. She enjoyed flipping through the magazine he'd bought her the first day, occasionally showing him pictures of animals. Even if it was just ducks, seeing them in person should please her.
As Remy pondered how to save some food to give to the ducks another day, they passed another family out for a walk. A couple with a little girl about the same age as Laura. She was wearing a pretty flowery dress and strolling between her parents, holding hands with each of them, a big smile on her face as she chirped happily. Remy barely paid them any attention, and they quickly disappeared behind him, becoming just another background noise.
As the path they were on forked, he slowed his pace, checking that they were still heading towards the pond. That's when he felt them. Small fingers that touched his palm timidly. Without a word, he closed his own fingers over Laura's, squeezing them reassuringly.
Glancing over at the little girl, he saw the soft smile spreading across her lips as she continued walking silently, beside him this time, leaving the shadows for a little light.
* * *
On the way home, they made a detour to a small supermarket nearby. Remy was pleased to see that so many everyday conveniences were located around the building; it would save him from having to make long, unnecessary trips.
He was particularly thrilled to be able to buy fresh fruits and vegetables, and Laura was allowed to choose new chocolate bars from the candy aisle. They walked home, each carrying a bag, and unpacked everything on the kitchen counter before getting to work. With attentive eyes, Laura watched him peel the vegetables, chop the garlic, and slice the meat. After a moment's hesitation, he handed her a knife, letting her slice the carrots. She did so diligently, concentrating, as he turned on the stovetop.
A few minutes later, their meal was cooking quietly, filling the apartment with a delicious scent of spices.
“That,” said Remy, “is the promise of a good meal.”
Laura nodded distractedly, absorbed in the cards she had placed on the coffee table, playing some game of her own. He started to clean the kitchen when, suddenly, someone knocked on their door.
Strange. Remy scanned the apartment, looking for where he had put his sunglasses, and hurried to adjust them before going to open the door. He found himself staring at an all-too-familiar face, for the second time that day.
“Ann... Rogue,” he caught himself. “What are you...”
He took off his glasses, slipping them into his back pocket as his gaze shifted from the young woman's mocking smile to what she was holding. A laundry basket. His laundry. The one he'd left in the shared washing machine, blocking it all afternoon.
“I heard some neighbors complaining,” she explained in an amused voice. “They were starting to get angry about the mysterious, disrespectful newcomer, so I thought I'd help you out and save you from any neighborhood conflicts.”
Remy blinked, taking in the information.
“Merde, I'm sorry.”
He reached out to retrieve his laundry, but stopped in astonishment when he realized it was neatly folded.
“Did you dry it?”
“I wasn't going to bring it back soaking wet," she replied with a shrug.
“You didn't have to...”
“The dryer did most of the work, really. It's not much.”
Her tone had hardened, indicating that she didn't want to dwell on it; Remy nodded to indicate that he'd gotten the message. He finally completed his gesture, grabbing the handles of the laundry basket to retrieve it, and his fingers brushed against Rogue's. Or rather, the gloves she was wearing. She immediately retracted, hiding her hands behind her back.
“Are they still...?”
“Yeah.”
An awkward silence fell between them as Rogue's gaze shifted, also not liking this topic of conversation. Remy's eyes fell back on the laundry, neatly folded and divided into two piles, separating his own from Laura's. That damn laundry he'd forgotten, distracted by their outing to the park. An outing he'd decided to take precisely to avoid thinking about his encounter with Rogue in the laundry room. And her presence in the building. And the way she'd looked at him, and smiled, and the pink that had colored her cheeks, and everything else.
There was something stupidly annoying about the way the universe tried to be funny.
“It smells good.”
Green eyes met his, and he felt his heart skip a beat. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, and even more he wanted to hear her say. Cooking wasn't one of them.
“I forgot how well you cook. Your family must be thrilled to...”
“Anna,” he cut her off. “I can't do this. I came here because I needed a place for Laura. A place where she would be safe. I didn't know you... If I had known…”
He trailed off, frustrated at being unable to put it into words. He felt like a stuttering teenager, even though he wasn’t – and never had been.
“I understand,” she replied softly. “But I thought that since you're here and I'm here, it's an opportunity to try being friends.”
He stared at her, taking in every detail of her face again, the curls that framed it, the beauty she exuded that took his breath away every time. She was perfect, and incredible, and he knew that no matter what he did, no matter what he decided, no matter what he wanted, a part of his heart would always beat for this woman.
“You and I are not meant to be friends, chère. You know that as well as I do.”
She opened her mouth to protest, then stopped, simply lowering her head to hide her pain.
“I'm sorry,” she said under her breath.
And that, that was some of the words Remy had been waiting to hear for years. Now that they were spoken, he felt they came too late. Or that they weren't complete enough.
“Thanks for the laundry, Rogue. Have a good evening.”
Without waiting for her to answer, he closed the apartment door and leaned against it, exhaling deeply.
Nothing had changed, but everything was different.