[Co-written with acesupyersleeve.]

November 17, 2039

He almost felt guilty for missing Pepper's 60th birthday party, especially since she had made his such an affair, but he knows that she understands. Gabi's wedding isn't something he intends to miss. He can hardly believe she was getting married, he can still remember the day she was born.

The wail of a newborn filled the Infirmary as Hank wrapped the baby in a fluffy pink blanket. She was 6 weeks earlier than she was supposed to be, but aside from being small, she was perfect. Aryn looked over at him with a watery smile as Hank laid the tiny bundle in her arms and gave him the family he wanted, but never thought he deserved.

Aryn sniffled as she looked down at her. “She's perfect.”

“Mmmhmm,” he agreed, kissing her temple as his own eyes stung, “and beautiful, jus' like her mama.”

He is snapped out of his reverie by Aryn walking in front of him, and stopping to straighten his tie.

"Where de hell did de time go? How de hell has it been 30 years?"



"'Mmm, I don't know. Maybe it was locked up in the tower with your little princess."

It's an old joke – she's teased him about it since Gabi was born – and he manages to grumble out a response. Aryn just laughs and kisses him, as she hands over her necklace – one he bought her for Mother's Day, the year after she had Gabi – so he can put it on her. As she does, he smiles, seeing that she still wears the sapphire ring from years ago. It has gone to the jewelers' twice now - once to have the stone reset, and once to have the engraving redone. But it's still the same ring, with the same inscription.

Tu es mon entière monde.

The necklace clasped around her neck, she turns to face him once more, and he can see both of them in the mirror across the room. He was now 64 years old, and was finally starting to show it. His hair has gone almost completely white, and he's not sure how he feels about that, dyeing it at his age would be ridiculous, but it was more of a reminder than he liked of his time as one of Apocalypse's henchmen. But Aryn was a completely different story. She was still as beautiful as he remembered, even with a few more lines around her eyes. Her pale gold hair was now almost half silver, and today she wore it up in a loose twist, with several strands falling out in soft curls that framed her face.

She looks at their reflection in the mirror. Aside from the hair, he hasn't really changed. He's still the smartass Cajun he was when they met; the one she chased across an ocean because he stole her heart and made her fall in love with him.

Aryn slips her arms around Remy's waist and leans back, looking up at him with a wistful smile. “Our little girl's all grown up.”

She was so afraid of screwing up any child she tried to raise, that she always swore she'd never have any, but the last 30 years – and two children – have made a liar out of her.

“...Yeah,” Remy replies moodily, and Aryn smiles, shaking her head at the stubborn set of his jaw, having seen it on her children often enough when they were growing up.

“He's a good boy, you know; she's happy, babe.”

He nods. “Yeah, I know. An' she better be.”

“She is. And she'll always be our little girl, no matter how old she gets –”

There's a knock on the door and Luc's voice floats through it. “Mom, Dad? Julia says they're ready, we need you downstairs.”

“We'll be right there,” Aryn calls, then turns back to Remy and leans up for a brief kiss, smoothing her hands along the shoulders of his tuxedo jacket. “I love you, you know.”

"I do know, Je t'aime aussi, ma cherie. We'd better go get our little girl married."



Muse: Aryn Wakefield
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count: 690