Hold on
Hold on to yourself
For this is gonna hurt like hell
Hold on
Hold on to yourself
You know that only time will tell

~ "Hold On" - Sarah McLachlan ~

---

I've been in some strange-ass situations. No surprise considering I have no memory of my life before fifteen years ago when some mad scientists grafted indestructible metal to my bones. In a way, I'm drawn to strange places. I feel at home there, I guess. Never thought I'd find a situation too bizarre for me to handle without blinking an eye.

I found out how wrong I was after that night we fought Magneto. I touched her face and fell into black-as-hell darkness. I thought it was over for me. Turn out the fuckin' lights, let the fat lady on stage type of over. For the longest time, all I saw was darkness. Made me pretty sure I'd been dropped into that purgatory place the Catholics talk about. I'd never bought into that religious bullshit before, but I had to be dead, so why the hell was I still ... aware?

I thought about it for who the fuck knows how long. I didn't have much else to do at the time. I had convinced myself it had to be purgatory. The black emptiness was too damn disturbing to be upstairs, and it was too calm and cool for the other place. I figured that the guys in charge must have been having one big ass quarrel over who had to take me.

That's when I saw her walking toward me in the darkness. My first thought was that I couldn't even fucking die right. She was supposed to have made it. My big noble sacrifice thrown right in the crapper next to me. Goes to show you what happens when you play against your strengths.

I tried to apologize for failing her, but she wouldn't let me talk. She said she didn't know how long she'd be able to stay and she needed to explain. She sounded so desperate for me to listen that I managed to keep my trap shut. It all came out of her in a rush, then she drifted away into the blackness.

It didn't matter that she was gone before I had a chance to speak. I couldn't have said a word if I tried. I was honest to Christ struck speechless. Somebody with a really screwed up sense of humor picked me up from that Statue and dropped me right smack in the middle of an episode of the 'Twilight Zone". I almost expected the creepy music to start on cue.

Like I said, I've been in some strange-ass situations. But this one takes the fucking cake, hands down.

I saw her again every day after that. I only know that because she told me. Time doesn't have much meaning here in limbo. I could always feel it when she was coming. It was different than when she spoke to me in the infirmary. When she came inside to visit me, I could see her and touch her, not just hear her.

I found myself getting more impatient for her to turn up. The brave girl who wanted to save me had become my only link to the world. Little by little, she became my world. Each day, I learned more about what had happened and what she had done about it. I put it together one piece at a time. I wish I could say that it was a happy, airy-fairy picture I built. Not for my sake, since I hate that crap. But for hers.

Sorry folks, it doesn't work that way.

It's damned near impossible to understand how it does work. I've never been a genius at explaining things that do make sense, let alone this whacked-out half existence I've been living. Marie did a better job explaining it than I ever could. One night in the infirmary, she asked me about it.

"Do you feel them, Logan?"

Feel what?

"The bonds."

Marie, you're being downright cryptic tonight.

"You know what I'm talkin' about. The bond between you and me, and the bond you have to yourself."

I really hadn't known what she meant, but when she said it, I suddenly felt what she was talking about. For a split second, I could sense the link tethering me to her. And I could feel the much weaker connection between myself and my body. It was like comparing a steel chain to a frayed rope.

Marie? How did you...

"Know?" she said. "I know everything about you, Logan. You're a part of me now."

That made me damned uncomfortable. Some things were better left alone. My head wasn't a place I wanted Marie spending time exploring. It was a dark place, and she deserved the light.

That's not what I was going to ask. How did you know how to keep me here? Did the Professor tell you?

She was quiet a moment, just long enough to make me very uneasy. "In a way... I guess he did... indirectly"

What aren't you telling me, Marie?

"Magneto. I knew because of him. He and the Professor were really close friends for a long time. When this happened... I don't know, I guess somethin' the Professor told or taught Magneto transferred to me. I knew exactly how to hold on to you. So I did."

Something about what she'd said didn't sit right. It finally occurred to me what she hadn't said.

Marie... Does the Professor know what you're doing for me?

She rushed off without answering me, tossing out an apology and saying she was late for training. That was all the answer I needed.

She hadn't told the Professor. I was willing to bet she hadn't told anyone.

The question was why.

I didn't think I was going to like the answer.

I thought about it while I waited for her to come back. I knew she would be there. She always came to me. I didn't have much to do other than think when she wasn't there. I was ready for her when she floated toward me out of the blackness. It was harder for her to hide the truth from me here. I could see her, and now that I knew how to access the bond, I could feel her too.

Her eyes were wide. She knew what I was going to ask. For a minute, I thought she was going to bolt. But she didn't. She's braver than I am, my beautiful Marie is.

I put on my sternest face and prayed that I looked determined rather than predatory. "Why haven't you told them? And don't pretend that you have or give me some bullsh- ... excuse. I want the truth."

Her hands fidgeted and she wouldn't look me in the eyes, but she told the truth. "I was afraid to tell them."

"Why?"

"I didn't want them to tell me to stop."

I hadn't been expecting that. A cold feeling snaked into my gut. "Why would they tell you to stop, Marie? Is this... Is it dangerous for you to keep me here?"

Those wide eyes that had seen too much looked back at me calmly. "I'm doin' what I have to do, Logan. The rest doesn't matter."

She started to fade away then. I could sense it happening as much as seeing it. I could feel the chain stretch as she faded back into the darkness. "Dammit, Marie! Come back!"

Her faint reply drifted back to me. "I can't, Logan. I don't want to go, but it's too much..."

It started to dawn on me then, what this was costing Marie. Call me thick if you want. I don't really give a shit. It took me that long to figure out this was even harder on her than I'd imagined. I wanted nothing more than to shove my fist through a wall and howl with rage. There were no walls handy, so I had to settle for a long, loud roar.

I knew it wouldn't be long before she was in the infirmary, talking to me again. I started to hate those conversations as much as I craved them. It wasn't the same as having her right in front of me, feeling her presence instead of just hearing her disembodied voice.

And then she was there. That soft, honey-sweet drawl reached out to me in the darkness. " Logan, please don't worry about me. I'm fine, really."

I struggled to keep my temper. She was putting up a brave front for me. I didn't have to be a goddamned telepath to figure that out. I knew her voice well enough now to hear the strained tone in it. I didn't need heightened senses to make the observation. Living in a vacuum with only one person connecting you to the world clears out the dead weight.

So, why didn't I notice before then how tired she sounded? I don't have the first fucking clue. But I heard it that night.

How can I not worry about you when you're doing this all alone?

"I'm not alone. I have you. That's enough."

I was getting better at knowing what she was thinking when she was talking to me. I could hear the smile in her voice. It should have made me feel better. It didn't.

It's not enough. You have to tell the Professor. We need to find out if this is dangerous-

"No! I'm not tellin' anyone, especially the Professor. Please don't ask me again, Logan. It's hard to say no to someone who saved your life."

I knew exactly what she was talking about. It's the reason I couldn't push her. As much as I thought I should, I just couldn't do it.

You're saving my life right now, aren't you, Marie?

"Not really. I'm just keepin' you safe until you're stronger."

We both knew better. Whether she was just being modest or if she trying to keep me from seeing the truth, I couldn't say. But I already knew the truth. I could feel how weak the connection between me and my body was. Without Marie holding on to me, I knew it would break. She knew it too.

If I promise not to ask you to tell the Professor, will you answer a question for me?

"All right." Her answer was nervous, hesitant.

Tell me the truth, Marie. How hard is this on you?

She was quiet for what felt like a fucking month. I thought she was going to run like she had the night before when I asked a question she didn't want to answer. Her answer, when it finally came, was spoken with quiet resolve. "It's hard, but not the way you think. I have to concentrate to be able to come see you in my head. But holdin' you ... that's not as hard. The hardest part is not knowing if I'm ever going to see you again for longer than a few seconds inside my mind."

She was evading again, but I couldn't bring myself to force the full truth from her. Not yet.

What can I do, Marie? How can I help?

She was quiet again. I tried to be patient, but restraint was never one of my strong suits.

Marie?

"Just get better, Logan. I'll take care of the rest."

She didn't even say goodbye that night. She just stood up and walked away without another word.

So I stewed about it for a while. I railed against fate. I basically threw a tantrum worthy of a five year old. I thought about Summers and how the dickwad would probably piss himself laughing at the image of bad ass Wolverine being protected by a girl half his size.

It was that thought that stopped my irrational fit. I'd sworn to Marie on that train that I would protect her. Bang-up job I'd done so far.

That was about to change.

I put my mind to doing what Marie had asked me to do. Instead of waiting around for her next visit in the dark, I kept myself occupied. I put all that stubbornness she kept commenting on to good use.

I worked on the fucking rope.

Whatever that thing was, I knew it was the key to setting her free. So I focused and I worked.

And I'll be damned if it didn't start making a difference.

I won't try to bullshit you. It wasn't easy and it was slow as fucking molasses in January. Like I said, I'm not long on patience. But I did make progress.

And I still had Marie.

She told me more as time went on. She told me silly stories that made me laugh in spite of myself. She talked about her training with a marked lack of enthusiasm when I asked her about it. She opened up a small window to the world for me that kept me from drowning in the darkness.

And she eventually told me what it took for her to hold on to me.

I think she knew it was pointless to try to hide it from me. Once I pulled my head out of my ass and thought about her instead of myself, I could feel her straining to hold me. I could sense the mental struggle that she went through to keep me connected to her.

It made me angry. It made me proud. It made me love her.

Sorry if that shatters any illusions, but it's the truth. A girl with ageless eyes and streaks of white in her hair did me in. I don't know if it was her bravery or her strength or her tender heart that broke through. Maybe it was all of those things. Maybe it was the fact that she'd looked inside my dark, tainted soul and still saw something in me worth risking herself to save.

Or maybe, it was just Marie.

After all this time, there's only one thing she won't tell me. She won't tell me why she holds on. When I ask, she just laughs and tells me to figure it out myself. I keep asking, even though I'm pretty damn sure I already know the answer.

Call me a selfish beast, but I want to hear her say it. I want those words to keep, just in case I'm wrong about how I think this strange-ass situation is going to end.

Because it's going to end soon.

Whether I'm ready or not, Marie's been a prisoner to saving me long enough. It's time to break the chain and let her go. No matter what happens to me, Marie will have her life back...

One way or another.

---

My Love
You know that you're my best friend
You know I'd do anything for you
My love
Let nothing come between us
My love for you is strong and true

~ "Hold On" - Sarah McLachlan ~

---

Rogue

I'm so tired these days. Each morning, I find it more difficult to climb out of bed. I don't mind, though. I have Logan to keep me going.

It's getting harder to hide it from everyone. I caught Jean looking at me with more concern than usual the other day. I smiled and put on a show of being fine. I think she believed me. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep any of them from realizing what I'm doing.

Living on borrowed time.

The funny thing is, while it's much harder for me to function normally, it's gotten easier for me to keep myself in my head with Logan. I've been spending longer amounts of time with him recently. It's worth every headache and all the weariness in the world to have that.

I'm not sure Logan has noticed that the time I'm with him is longer now. He's told me that time doesn't work quite the same way for him now. But he has been acting differently, and I can't quite put my finger on what has changed.

I've tried asking him, but he just smiles at me and tells me not to worry. I've tried to feel it through our connection, but I can't seem to get through. Most of the time, I'm sure that it's just me, because I'm so tired. But every once in a while, a malevolent voice in my head whispers that it's happening because Logan is pulling away from me.

And that scares me so much I try not to think about it.

I'm walking into his room now. Calm surrounds me, and the pain that has been throbbing in my temples all day fades. By the time I have myself curled up in his bed, the pain is completely gone.

I walk through the darkness of my mind. Logan approaches and my steps falter slightly when I see the expression on his face. Gone is the usual welcoming smile. His eyes are flat and cold as glass. "Logan?"

I reach out my hand, but he backs away. I feel like I've been slapped. He's still staring at me with those dead eyes. A stranger's eyes. "Logan, talk to me."

He's not saying a word. I can see the muscles in his jaw clenching. I have no idea what he's thinking for the first time in months. "Logan... you're scarin' me."

"Yeah? Well, you should be scared, kid. But I'm not the one you should be scared of."

"Who am I supposed to be scared of, Logan? You're not making any sense."

He gives me a look that makes me want to shrink inside. Like I'm a slow child he has to humor. "You should be scared of yourself, and this thing you're doing."

"I don't-"

"You need me to spell it out for you, kid? Fair enough. You have to stop coming in here and hiding from the world. It's not healthy and it's damned near pathetic."

It hurts. Hearing those words from him in that lacerating tone hurts ten times more than the worst headache I've had. But this isn't right. This isn't Logan. So I push the pain away and try to think clearly. "Why are you saying these things to me?"

I try to look beyond the flat stare he's leveling at me with his eyes. "Because someone has to tell you the truth, kid. And since I'm the only one who knows what you're doing, that leaves it up to me. You've got to give up this obsession with saving me and start living again."

"I'm not obsessed-"

"Really? Has there been one day in the past few months that you haven't put yourself through hell to get in here? When was the last time you did anything that a normal girl your age would do? Stop trying to lie to yourself, kid. It's obvious you're no damned good at it."

I say nothing. With everything in me, I focus on sensing him through the bond between us. And he's there. Behind all the coldness, I find him. He washes through me in that instant before the wall rises again. I don't understand everything I felt from him, but one thought stood out amongst it all: You'll be alright, Marie.

I needed that reassurance. I needed to know that he wasn't completely lost to me. It gives me the strength to speak. "I know you don't mean these things you're saying, so tell me the truth. What's wrong?"

He laughs. It's not a pleasant sound. It's harsh and unfeeling. "What's wrong? This is wrong. And it has to end."

Now it makes sense. I know why Logan is being so cruel. A feeling of dread slithers through my blood like a viper. My head shakes from side to side in denial. "No..."

"Let me go, kid. It's time."

I'm panicking. I mutter incoherently. "No... too soon... not strong enough..."

Logan grabs my arms and shakes me. My eyes fly to his. The stranger's eyes are gone. I see him there. Tormented... contrite... resolved. "Stop worrying about me and do what I say! Let me go!"

A smile slowly spreads across my lips. I see the confusion on Logan's face at my reaction. I raise my hand to rest it against his cheek. "I can't. You saved my life, Logan. Please... I have to save yours."

His eyes close. His hand comes to rest over top of mine. His lids lift and the intensity of his gaze steals my breath. "Don't do this, Marie. It has to end."

I feel myself drifting away. I hate it but I can't fight the pull any longer. "It will work out, Logan. Trust me."

My vision of him is fading. Through the darkening, I hear his voice, silk over steel. "It will work out. Goodbye, Marie."

I open my eyes and sit up on the bed. My heart pounds painfully inside my chest. I stumble to my feet and head for the door. Wrong... something is very, very wrong.

---

Jean

I walk up the stairs and head for our room. Scott is waiting there for me. He said he needed to speak to me privately about something important. He sounded anxious, so I'm hurrying. I'm almost at the door when I hear a strangled cry coming from behind me. I turn and see Rogue stumbling out of Logan's room. I knew that Rogue went into that room every night, and it worried me. But the sight that meets my eyes now makes my previous concerns seem mild by comparison.

Rogue is wrapped in one of Logan's shirts. She's grasping the doorframe to hold herself up. I can see there is something seriously wrong with her and I take a few steps in her direction. As I do, she collapses to the floor outside the open doorway. I break into a run and call out, "Scott! I need your help!"

I hear the door to our room opening in the hall behind me as I drop to my knees next to Rogue. Her slight body is shaking with convulsions. "Rogue, it's Jean. Can you hear me?" Rogue's eyelids flutter, but she doesn't reply as her body continues to shake uncontrollably.

Scott is at my side, kneeling next to me. "My God, Jean. What happened to her?"

"I don't know. She's having some sort of seizure. We need to get her to the med bay."

Scott carefully scoops Rogue up in his arms. I run for the elevator with him following. As the elevator descends, I call out to Professor Xavier.

Professor, Rogue is in trouble. We're headed for the med bay.

I know. I heard her cry for help. I will meet you there.

Scott is laying Rogue down on the examination table. I grab some items from a cabinet and put them on a tray. Scott is attempting to still the tremors of Rogue's body by holding her arms against the table. I pull on some latex gloves and use a penlight to check Rogue's pupils for responsiveness.

Relief floods through me at the sound of the Professor's voice. "Do you know what happened to her?"

I shake my head. "I saw her come out of Logan's room and collapse. She's been unresponsive since we found her."

Rogue abruptly stops quivering and her eyes fly open. Scott releases her arms and looks over at me questioningly. I shake my head in confusion and look back down at Rogue's pale face. Rogue's eyelids drift shut and she softly whispers, "Professor..."

"I'm here, Rogue. What is it, child? What happened to you?"

"Please... Professor... you have to stop him..."

"Stop who, Rogue?"

"Logan... don't let him... he can't... too soon... stop him... tell him... hold on..."

I meet Scott's worried gaze, knowing that my own must look just as troubled. I don't want to risk Rogue hearing what I have to say, so I telepathically speak to the Professor.

This is an after effect of the seizure. She can't possibly...

I'm not so sure of that, Jean. We both knew there was something happening to her that she wasn't telling us. I think I know what that is now.

The Professor turns back to Rogue. She's shaking again, quick involuntary muscle jerks with no pattern or reason to them. "Rogue, I'm going to help you. To do that you have to let us see."

"Anything... do anything... just make him stop... make him stay..."

The Professor looks over at me. I know he's going to link his mind to Rogue's and mine as well. He wants both of us there. I nod and the Professor raises his hands next to Rogue's temples. I close my eyes...

{pain... shaking... force coursing through flesh... blinding white light... skin searing to metal... agonizing pain...

stillness... nothingness... drifting away...

pulled back... energy... healing... comfort...

waking up... aware... looking over... he's here... he saved me...

he's too still... why is he so still? ... wake up, Logan! ... you have to wake up...

he can't be gone... I can't live without him...

he's not gone... he's here with me... in me... he's fading... I have to stop the fading...

I have him... I can hold on... he saved me... I can save him...}

It's too much for me. I have to break away. I feel Scott's arms close around me and I realize that I've fallen back against him. The Professor is still with Rogue, the things thought and felt that no one else knew playing out before him. The Professor pulls his hands away from Rogue's face. He leans back and I watch his face. I can see him processing everything he's discovered. He looks over at me.

She has Logan's life force inside her, Jean. It's been there since she woke up after the battle.

I stare at him, incredulous.

How is that possible?

There's no time for explanations right now. Both of their lives are at stake.

Suddenly, Rogue cries out in pain and the convulsions worsen. "Stop him, Professor... Please!" The pain is too much for her to bear, and she loses consciousness again.

I turn to the tray and prepare a syringe. The Professor holds up his hand. "No. That won't help her."

"Professor, if we don't stop these seizures, they'll kill her."

"I know. I intend to stop them." The Professor places his hands next to Rogue's temples again. I turn my eyes to Scott. He runs a comforting hand down my hair and hugs me to him. I know the Professor went searching for the solution.

I just pray that he finds it in time.

---

Am I in heaven here or
Am I in hell
At the crossroads I am standing

~ "Hold On" - Sarah McLachlan ~

---

I grind my teeth as I pull at the chain. She's fighting me with everything she has. With every inch I take, she pulls back against me. She fights dirty, too. She's pleading with me to wait until I'm stronger. She's swearing that she's ok as long as I am. She's such a bad liar.

She's sounding desperate now, begging me to stop. I can't stop. I hope that one day she'll understand that. I pray that somehow, even if I'm not there to tell her, somehow she'll know I didn't do this because of her. I didn't do it because I wanted to leave or because I didn't need her. That's the furthest thing from the truth.

If there is a God, she'll realize that I did it for her.

"Logan. You have to stop this."

That's the first voice I've heard other than hers in what seems like forever. The sound scratches at my eardrums, an unwelcome invader.

I turn to face him. "Leave this alone, Professor. It's between Marie and me."

He walks toward me. It's damned odd to see the Professor walking. "That's precisely what I'm here to make you understand, Logan."

My fists clench around the chain as I fight to keep control. The claws slide out with a hiss. "I'm not going to waste time talking to you, old man. I mean it. Back off."

"Not until I make you see what you're doing. You know that the bond between you and Rogue goes both ways. What you're doing right now, it's killing her."

Did he have to rub it in like that? I'm very well aware that Marie doesn't think that it's time to let me go. Guilt tripping me about hurting her was a low blow. "She'll get over it. At least she'll be free of this... whatever the hell this is."

"You misunderstand me, Logan. I'm telling you that this is killing her, literally."

That stops me in my tracks. I drop the chain and turn on him. My hands grab the lapels of his jacket. "What's wrong with Marie?"

"Rogue is in the medical facility as we speak. She's been having seizures ever since you started pulling away from her. She regained consciousness for a few moments, long enough to ask for my help. That's how I found out you were here."

My hands drop from him to fall lifeless at my sides. Each word he said seared me like drops of acid on my skin. The burning pinpricks merged until I was one massive lump of pain and fury. There were no answers now. "What the hell am I supposed to do?" I hear the bemused pain in my own voice and hate the weakness it reveals. "Marie says she's fine, but I know she's not. It's like I'm eating her away inside, killing her by inches. I can feel her dying! Tell me I'm wrong, Professor. Tell me that Marie isn't suffering because she's holding me inside her."

The look on his face is pragmatic and sympathetic at the same time. "The brain is a very complex organ, but in some ways, it's no different than any other biological structure. It adapts to changes in circumstance. That is what you feel happening to Rogue. Her mind has altered itself to accommodate your presence here." He pauses and his eyes blaze into mine. "What Rogue is doing takes an incredible amount of strength and energy. She has become so focused inward that she's put her physical systems under enormous stress. I won't lie to you, Logan. If she continues doing this much longer, it will kill her."

I thought I had already known the truth, so why did it feel like I was swallowing broken glass when I heard him say it? Maybe it hadn't seemed completely real before. "I tried to get through to her. I acted like a total bastard so she'd give up on me, but it didn't work. You have to do something, Professor. You have to convince her to let go."

"I've already tried, Logan. I don't believe it's possible. She won't let go, and it's beyond even me to force her to do so without causing irreparable damage."

I want to scream at him to stop talking so calmly. I want to twist him into knots so he'll know how I feel. I was killing her by staying and I was killing her by trying to pull away. How can he stand there and not realize that the world is going insane? "So no matter what I do, I can't help her? Is that what you're saying?"

"No, Logan. What I'm saying is that you have to make a choice. The bond between you and Rogue is not something of the tangible world. It cannot be stretched to allow you both to have separate physical existences. There are no halfway measures to be taken. The connection must either remain intact or be broken."

It makes sense now, though I hate like hell that I understand. I hadn't realized how much I was counting on keeping a part of Marie for myself until he said that I couldn't. It's all or nothing. He's right. I have to choose.

I look over at him. I can see by the expression on his face that he knows my decision. No one ever said the professor was stupid. "You do understand what this could mean for you, Logan? For the both of you?"

"I understand Professor. If I ... you just take care of her."

The Professor nods sagely and turns away from me without another word. I watch him walk away until he disappears. I want to be sure I'm alone with her for this.

I close my eyes and feel for her through the bond. She's tired, resting during the time I'd stopped pulling away. I can feel her reaching out to me, offering anything if I just stay. I hear her anguish and hate myself for being the cause. I hope she can't feel my self-loathing. At best, she'll worry about me being too hard on myself. At worst, she'll misunderstand and think my rage is directed at her. I focus on making her know the truth, just in case I never get to tell her face to face.

Marie, I need you to promise me something.

Anything... I'll do anything, Logan...

You swear to me that no matter what happens, you'll survive it.

I can survive anything as long as I have you.

That's not what I asked you, Marie. I need to hear you to say it. Promise me that you'll live.

Alright, Logan. I promise you I'll live, no matter what. Now, will you promise not to leave me?

I want nothing more than to promise her that. Scratch that. I want one thing more. I want her alive and whole and back in the world again. I can't answer her question. I'm a selfish bastard and I don't want our last exchange to be filled with pleading or remorse.

You've done more for me than anyone else in my miserable life. You saved my miserable life. How do you thank someone for that?

If you figure it out, I hope you'll tell me. I've been working on that one since I woke up in the med bay.

I laugh and try to ignore the fact that I am already grieving the loss of her. How much worse will it be when it's actually over?

I want to ask you something, Marie. I need a straight answer.

Why do I get the feeling I know what's coming?

I hear her laugh and damn myself to hell. She has no idea what's coming.

Why, Marie?

I don't even ask the whole question this time. She knows what I mean. I wait for the laugh. I wait for her to tell me to figure it out myself. I try not to want it to be different, knowing that the words might be better left unsaid. But I do want it. I want it like a drowning man wants oxygen.

Maybe on some level she knows that this is the last time I'll ask. Maybe she's just tired of me asking. But she answers.

Because I love you, Logan.

I want to cry and scream and laugh all at once. I never experienced abject terror and sublime rapture mingled together before I met Marie. Now it's become a familiar, comfortable feeling. I want to stay here forever. I want to let myself drown in her, let her drown in me. But there's a high price to having honor, which I never knew I had before Marie. It means keeping your word when it's given. So I'll keep mine even if it kills me. I'll protect her from herself and from me.

Even if she ends up hating me for it.

Right back at'cha... kid

I couldn't bring myself to say it the way I wanted to. Not with what I'm about to do. It could leave too many scars on her if I don't make it. That half-admission will have to be enough.

I pull back away from her. I have the chain in one hand. I pull it taut.

It has to be a clean break.

I raise my other hand high, claws out. A tormented roar erupts from deep in my gut as I slash downward with brutal force and without hesitation. I won't allow myself the chance to change my mind...

---

Jean

The Professor is doing his best to explain to Scott and I what had happened between Rogue and Logan. Rogue's seizures had stopped, but I had already conducted an EEG to see if I could determine the cause. "Professor, these reading's can't possibly be right." I hold out the strip of paper to him. As he reaches for it, a shattering scream erupts from Rogue. A dreadful, anguished wail that seems too immense to have come from such a frail body. I know I will never forget that mournful cry.

I can only describe it as a sound made by someone who felt she'd just had half of her soul torn away.

---

Oh God
If you're out there, won't you hear me
I know that we've never talked before
Oh God
The man I love is leaving
Won't you take him when he comes to your door

~ "Hold On" - Sarah McLachlan ~

---

Jean

After that first horrible cry, Rogue bolts up on the examination table and wraps her arms around her knees. She starts rocking back and forth, keening low, anguished sobs into her arms. I can't bear to see her this way. I reach out toward her arm, "Rogue? Are you-"

"No!" Rogue screams. She flinches away from my hand. "Don't touch me! Leave me alone!"

I look to the Professor, hoping he knows why Rogue is reacting this way. I'm praying he has some idea of how we can help her. His eyes say that he knows why, but that there is nothing any of us can do to help right now.

I can't accept that, not when Rogue is obviously in so much pain. "Please. Rogue. we want to help."

Her head shoots up and she pins me with a glare filled with hatred and pain. Her breath is shuddering, and I don't know if it's from physical exhaustion or from rage. "I think you've all helped me more than I can stand for one day. Thank. You."

Her sarcasm is not at all subtle. Her eyes widen as if she's suddenly remembered something. Rogue jumps down off the examination table and rushes to Logan's bedside. Her eyes are filled with intense expectation as she stares down at his face. I open my mouth and close it without saying the words that she doesn't want to hear. There has been no change in his condition.

She realizes it herself soon enough. She reaches over and grabs a scalpel from a drawer in the instrument table. Before we can react in any way other than me screaming at her to stop and Scott stepping toward her, Rogue stabs herself in the arm deeply, pulling the razor sharp knife through her flesh.

The knife falls from her hand. The blood on the blade spatters little red droplets on the floor upon impact. Her eyes clench shut and she cries out, "No," in a long, low wail. Not because the wound didn't heal.

But because it did.

The flesh knits back together neatly, not even leaving the traces of a scar. Her eyes, no longer mournful but again enraged, turn back on us. Specifically, she stares at the Professor.

"You did this," she hisses. "I asked you to help me. I practically begged you to convince him to stay. You made him leave me!"

The Professor remains calm in the face of her wrath. He understands it, I think, because he saw everything first hand. He knows the sacrifice and the struggle Rogue went through better than anyone. except maybe the man who is still in a coma, unable to help her.

"I didn't force Logan to do anything, Rogue. I told him the truth. He needed to know everything. He had to make a choice."

"And what about my right to make a choice?" Her voice is deathly calm now. It's a disturbing change from her screaming just a moment ago. "Doesn't that count? And what choice did Logan really have? Did you leave him a choice, or did you just decide what was best for both of us and convince him to go along?"

"No, Rogue. I -"

"Forget it. Save it for someone who'll believe you. Just get out and leave us alone."

She pulls a chair over to the same spot as always. She sits down and stares at Logan's face. It's like she's forgotten the rest of us exist. No. She's choosing to forget.

I don't want to leave her. After that scalpel incident, I'm afraid that she might harm herself in a way that even Logan's gift won't be able to heal. The Professor gives me a calming look.

She needs to be alone, Jean. She will recover from this. eventually.

I'm still concerned, but I follow the Professor and Scott out of the room. As I walk out the door, I look over my shoulder at the girl next to the bed. Her hair is disheveled and loose about her shoulders. The too large shirt hangs off her frame, making her appear even more fragile than she is. But it's her eyes that stay with me even after the door slides shut.

Eyes should never look that old.

---

Rogue

They're gone. Finally, they're gone. I look down at him. I can feel the empty place inside me that belonged to him. It aches. I know it always will ache. I will always feel that place inside me bleeding for him.

"Damn you, Logan. Why couldn't you listen to me? Why couldn't you believe me when I told you I was ok?"

I told you, kid. You're a shitty liar.

I know it's a trick of my mind. I know that he's gone. But I welcome the delusion like a long lost friend.

"Why did you have to go?"

You know the answer to that one. Don't play dumb with me, Marie.

"You don't get it, do you? I didn't care! I would have stayed that way forever if it meant having you safe."

I know. But I couldn't let you sacrifice yourself for me.

"So you had to make the sacrifice instead? You're a male chauvinist pig sometimes, you know that?"

Yeah? Well, I never claimed I went to charm school. Go talk to Scooter if you want New Age Enlightened Man. I got no interest in getting in touch with my inner child.

"Why should you? The outer child is more than enough."

Good one, kid. Now why don't you get outta here and get some rest?

"I'll rest. But I'm not leaving."

I wait for the argument. It doesn't come.

Even my own delusions desert me.

I feel the tears streaming down my cheeks and wonder when they started. I can't remember and don't care. I pick up Logan's hand and lace my gloved fingers through his. I lay my head down on the thin blanket covering his chest. I can hear the steady beating of his heart below my ear. It's slow but it's there, and the rhythmic sound comforts me. My eyelids drop but the tears still flow, slowly dampening the blanket beneath my cheek..

"Please. please don't leave me."

---

Jean

It took us almost three days to get Rogue to eat something. She refused to leave Logan's bedside. I finally got so worried about her that my temper snapped. I told her that if she kept refusing to eat, I would sedate her and hook her up to an IV.

Thankfully, Rogue didn't force the issue. I'm still not sure if I would have been able to follow through on that threat. She stared at me for a long time, then picked up a sandwich off the tray I'd placed next to her.

It took us over two weeks to convince her to leave the med bay for longer than it took her to perform the basic necessities that could not be handled in the infirmary. If it had been up to Scott, it wouldn't have taken nearly that long. He was ready to drag her out of there kicking and screaming. Scott and I don't argue much, but we had an argument about that:

"Scott, you know how the Professor wants us to handle this."

"We're not handling it at all, Jean! Logan is in a damned coma and he's still controlling her life!"

"That's not fair, Scott. You know that this is Rogue's choice. Do you honestly think that Logan would want it this way?"

"Not fair? What's not fair is that Rogue is barely eating, and she's only sleeping because we moved a cot close enough to him so she could rest there. She's not going to classes. She hasn't seen any of her friends since this happened. How is any of that fair? They may as well have both died that night at the Statue, because neither one of them is really living."

The argument stopped there. In a way, Scott was right, so how could I argue? Scott didn't drag her out of there. Once he calmed down a little, I managed to talk him out of it.

In the end, it was nothing dramatic that made her decide to leave. It was a simple request from Scott that did it. She seemed to have less resentment toward him than she did toward the Professor and me. I suppose it was because she couldn't find a reason to blame Scott for what she was going through. She blames the Professor for not convincing Logan to stay in her head.

She blames me because, despite all my medical training, I can't make Logan come back to her.

But she left the med bay. She started going to classes again. She ate in the cafeteria with the other students. I should have felt better. I should have been less worried. And I was, at first.

Until I noticed her coming out of Logan's room again.

She resumed her routine like she'd never left it. It scares me half to death to watch her. She smiles. She says all the right things. She laughs.

But her laugh is brittle where it used to be light. There's an emptiness to her smile now. And her eyes . It's like she's standing a few feet behind her own eyes. Like really seeing would hurt too much.

We all try to help her, but I don't think anyone can.

Not until Logan wakes up.

---

So now you're sleeping peaceful
I lie awake and pray
You'll be strong tomorrow
And will see another day

~ "Hold On" - Sarah McLachlan ~

Rogue

The alarm buzzes like a pesky insect next to my ear. I wake up and throw off the blankets. Just another day in paradise. If I could bring myself to care, I might wonder when I got so bitter.

Down to the bathroom to shower and get ready for class. After I finish getting dressed, I absently run a razorblade down the length of my bare forearm. I don't even wait for the wound to heal before pulling on my elbow-length black gloves. The dark fabric won't reveal any telltale stains.

I'm not sure why I still bother testing it every day. It's become a habit, I guess. Another routine in my standard operating procedure. A part of me wonders if I'm starting to like the pain involved a little more than is healthy. Right, like my mental health is any great shakes without an unnatural affinity for pain. Physical pain has a welcome side effect - For a little while, it lets me forget the other pain that lurks in my mind like a predator, waiting for a weak moment to strike.

Sometimes, I think I need this methodical cycle to keep me from going completely over the edge, assuming that I haven't already. Someone once said that the only people who are one hundred percent certain that they're sane are crazy people. If that's true, I guess I'm still partly in touch with reality.

History class. I wish I could be interested. "Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it". Yeah, especially if you have an instructor like Orro Monroe. I've heard that more than one of her students had been "doomed to repeat" in summer school.

The lecture ends with an assignment to read the next chapter for class tomorrow. I close my notebook and start gathering my things. English next. I hope that Hank doesn't ask me my opinion on "The Metamorphosis". I'd read it as instructed, but the mood I was in didn't allow me to appreciate it in a normal way. I'd probably spout off something entirely inappropriate, like if being treated like a bug turned you into a bug, then maybe people treating you like you were broken would break you. They'd probably ship me off to the cracker factory before lunch.

"Rogue?"

I look up to see Storm standing in front of my desk. I suddenly realize that everyone else has already left the room. Great. Another episode of Rogue-has-gone-through-so-much-we-need-to-humor-her-and-be-understanding. I smile with what I hope is a convincing imitation of normalcy. "Sorry, Ms. Monroe. I'm a little out of it this morning."

She smiles serenely. I envy her that calmness she exudes like a personal scent. I can't remember the last time I was peaceful. "It's fine, Rogue. I just wanted to see how you're progressing with that essay on the Civil Rights Movement. I know you've had a lot of work to catch up, but I'd like to have it by the end of the week."

End of the week. Considering I hadn't even read the books yet... "Sure. I'll have it on your desk by Friday." Please let Kitty have time to help me with it.

She smiles again and gives me a satisfied nod. When her gaze drops from mine, her eyes widen with shock. "Rogue? Did you hurt yourself?"

I don't know what she's talking about. I follow the direction of her stare. There's a small pool of dark red liquid on my desk.

Blood on my desk... my blood.

I drop my books and race for the elevator. I hear her calling out after me, but I don't slow down. I slap my hand against the panel and jump into the waiting car. I tap my foot impatiently as the elevator descends. As it does, I pull down my glove.

The cut on my arm is bleeding profusely.

When the doors open, I run down the hall. I pull my glove up and put pressure on my forearm with my opposite hand. I'm running so fast that the med bay door sensor has only triggered it to open half way when I skid to a stop inside the entrance.

Jean is at Logan's bedside. She's intently studying something in her hands and doesn't notice me. I take a few steps closer. "What happened to Logan? Is he awake? Is he..." I can't finish that thought. He can't be gone. I would know it if he were. I would feel it.

Jean's eyes fly up, wide with surprise. "Rogue? How did you-"

"I'm bleeding," I reply, not bothering to explain further. "What about Logan?"

Jean walks over to me. She unclenches my hand from around my left forearm. She carefully peels off my glove and her breath catches when she sees the seeping gash underneath it. I'm rapidly losing my patience with her. "Jean, would you please stop fussing over my damned arm and tell me what happened to Logan."

Her eyes meet mine and she shakes her head as if to clear a fog from her vision. "Logan is fine, Rogue. I'm more worried about you right now. This wound is bleeding heavily. I need to examine it."

"Jean! You know what this means, right? I haven't had so much as a bruise that lasted more than a few seconds since Logan... What happened? I need to know, please!"

"You let me dress this cut and I'll tell you everything you want to know, deal?" She turns and walks over to the sink in the rear of the infirmary. She removes her surgical gloves and replaces them with a fresh pair as I follow her. Jean is an expert at getting her own way. She knows I won't refuse if it means finding out about Logan's condition.

Jean really annoys the hell out of me sometimes.

She directs me to sit on a stool next to the sink and to hold my arm over the basin. She opens a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and liberally pours it over the cut. Little prickles of pain shoot through my arm, but I ignore them as she starts to speak. "Logan's vital signs changed this morning."

"How?" I ask anxiously as Jean softly dabs the excess peroxide off my arm with a gauze pad.

She picks up a bottle of pinkish-orange liquid and unscrews the top. There's a plastic applicator attached to the lid. "Logan's EEG shows increased frequencies of Alpha waves and a marked decrease in Delta waves. The histaminergic activity in his hypothalamus..."

I must look as confused as I feel. Jean stops speaking when she notices the expression on my face. "Jean, let's pretend for a minute that I know absolutely nothing about neurology. Does all that mumbo jumbo mean that he's waking up?"

She smiles slightly. "I can't promise you anything, Rogue. But it's looking that way, yes."

I close my eyes and let my breath out slowly. I hear Jean say, "Lucky for you, this cut is superficial. I don't think you'll need stitches. How did this happen anyway?"

Oh boy. The truth is not an option. I can just imagine Jean's reaction if I told her that, on top of everything else, I'd been cutting myself every day for nearly four months. "I think I caught it on the bathroom shelf this morning. I didn't notice it bleeding until Ms. Monroe pointed it out."

She stares at me for a minute. I have to wonder if she's considering probing me for the truth and whether the interrogation would be mental or verbal. She must have decided against it. She takes the bottle of strange looking liquid and says, "This may sting a little."

It does sting... a lot. It feels like a hornet's nest just swarmed over my arm. My breath hisses inward and I wince. Jean recaps the bottle (the label calls it methiolade - I'm assuming the main component is hydrochloric acid) and places some gauze pads on my cut. She applies some adhesive tape around the edges of the pads, then picks up a roll of gauze. She winds the long bandage around my arm and fastens it with some more tape. I feel like a mummy.

Jean pulls off her surgical gloves with a snap and says, "I'll want to look at that in a few days to make sure it's healing." She throws the soiled gloves into a trashcan under the sink and walks back over to Logan's bedside.

I pull my left glove back on (it's a tight fit with the thick bandage in the way) and follow her.

I stare at Logan's face, looking for a sign that he's waking up. Jean glances over at me with sympathy in her eyes. "Rogue, you should go back to class. There's no telling when he'll come out of this."

"No way am I leaving." I leave off the 'there will be a blizzard in hell before you force me out of here' part. No point in tempting fate when you live in the same house as a weather goddess.

Jean looks like she understands, but also like she feels she has to insist. "Rogue-"

Jean stops when she hears the sound. I hear it too. We both look down. Logan is mumbling something we can't hear and the muscles around his eyes are twitching.

I'm trembling. I can hardly believe what I'm seeing. After all this time... "Logan?" The trembling has transferred to my vocal cords. "Did you say something?"

I lean down closer to him. I hear his voice, rough and weak from lack of use. "What's with the damned spotlight?"

I bite down on my lower lip to prevent a laugh from escaping. Doesn't it figure that he'd wake up grumpy? I look up and feel tears fall from the corners of my eyes. "Jean, can you turn off the lamp?"

She nods and reaches for the switch. I can see relief and happiness in her eyes.

I turn back to Logan. Now that the light above his head is off, he's slowly opening his eyes. He's blinking rapidly at first. Then he keeps them open just a crack. "Hey, kid. Good to see ya."

I smile down at him, sure that my heart is in my eyes. I haven't felt this overwhelmed in a long time, and for once, the emotions washing through me are joyful ones. "Good to see you, too."

Jean walks over to the other side of Logan's bed with a cup of ice chips and a plastic spoon. I hadn't even noticed her leaving to get them. She holds the spoon out to Logan, saying, "You probably want water, but it's safer to go slowly. These should help ease the dryness in your throat."

Logan takes an ice chip into his mouth and sucks on it a minute before crunching it up and swallowing it. Then he glances around the med bay. "Where's the Professor?"

"He's in class," Jean replies. "Do you want me to ask him to come down here?"

Logan's brow furrows. "In class? I just figured he'd still be here. I guess I've been out longer than I thought. What's it been, a week?"

A week... How can he possibly think it's only been a week? Jean shoots a glance at me, then looks back at Logan. "It's been almost four months."

The shocked look on his face makes my heart pound painfully. Oh, God...

"Four months? Damn..." Logan looks over at me. I'm sure I must be white as a sheet. As usual, he tries to make me feel better, not realizing that it isn't possible. "You pack one hell of a wallop, kid."

When Logan sees that his teasing has no affect on me, he starts looking worried. I should say something. I can't. All I can hear is a voice repeating in my head... He doesn't remember... He doesn't remember... He doesn't remember...

I have to get out of here. I have to get away. I stand up and start to walk out. Logan catches my gloved hand before I can leave. I look back and hope he can't see that I'm losing it.

"Look... kid... I'm just glad it worked. No regrets, ok?"

No regrets. I wish I could say the same. I force a smile and pray that my bitterness doesn't show too much. "I'm glad it worked, too."

It shouldn't matter that he doesn't know what I mean.

It does matter.

I can't bear it anymore. That friendly, unknowing look in his eyes is tearing me apart. I pull my hand away and walk to the door. Over my shoulder, I say to Jean, "Thanks for fixing my arm. I have to get back to class."

I can hear the tapping of Jean's heels on the floor. She catches me near the door. She talks under her breath. "Rogue... I know this must hurt... If you need-"

I can feel the tears welling up again. I have to go before they start, so I interrupt her. "Just... take care of him."

---

Logan

I can hear the swish of the door opening and closing as the kid leaves. Jean walks back over to me and picks up a blood pressure cuff. She's avoiding looking me in the eyes. Somethin' strange is goin' on. "You don't need that, Red. I'm feelin' better every minute."

She gives me a strained smile and wraps the stupid thing around my arm anyway. "Humor me. It's a doctor thing."

Ok. I guess I can humor her. But I am wondering why everything got so damned tense in here a minute ago. I wasn't expecting a fucking tickertape parade, but the atmosphere turned downright gloomy when I realized how long I'd been out of it. I guess the kid feels guilty that I took so long to wake up after I touched her. She shouldn't blame herself. I made the choice and I would make the same one again, no question. "Is she all right?"

Jean doesn't answer me immediately. She removes the cuff from my arm and makes a note on a chart. "I don't know how to answer that, Logan. I hope so."

I feel a strange tightening in my chest. That is not an acceptable answer. A voice inside me insists that she has to be all right. "What's that supposed to mean? Is she ok or not?"

Jean studies me for a minute. I get the feeling she's about to say something, but she stops herself. "Logan... Rogue went through... she went through a lot while you were in a coma. I think she's a bit overwhelmed right now. But I also know that she's strong. I think she'll be ok."

Jean thinks she'll be ok? Well I think that Jean is editing herself before she talks, and it pisses me off royally. Who the hell is she trying to protect? If she's trying to protect the kid from me, she should know better. I would never do anything to hurt Marie...

Marie? When did I start thinking of her as Marie?

"Can you... Just keep an eye on her until I'm back on my feet, ok?"

Why does Jean keep looking at me like that? Like I'm a damned specimen on a slab that she's trying to dissect with her eyes instead of a knife. This place got even weirder while I was asleep. "You don't have to ask, Logan. We're all making sure that Rogue is ok."

That makes me feel better and worse at the same time. It's good that someone is looking out for her, but it's my job and no one else should do it.

I promised her before that I'd protect her, but it's different now. It's more than concern, more than honoring a promise. I feel a sudden rush of rage that I'm not the one taking care of her. I feel territorial and possessive... Where the fuck did that come from? It must be that thing about being responsible for a life you've saved.

What else could it be?

Jean walks away from me toward one of the wall cabinets. I watch the sway of her hips with an appreciative smile... until it hits me.

Guilt. Right smack in the forehead, a great big wave of guilt. For the love of... Why am I feeling guilty? I know it has nothing to do with Jean being taken. I was able to enjoy the view before without a problem. Hell, I even got the added bonus of ticking off Scooter when I stared at her.

I can't take it anymore. I look away from her ass. I try watching her chest instead. Her breasts are shown off nicely by the blue sweater she's wearing as she reaches for something in a cabinet...

I feel like a depraved, worthless human being. I have no idea why, but something in me says that it's fundamentally wrong for me to be ogling Jean this way.

All right, this has gotten out of hand. I'll be damned if I'll let my sex drive disappear. There's a reason for all this weirdness. I don't care if it's been four months or four years. A man doesn't just wake up from a coma transformed into someone else...

Well that has to be one of the dumbest fucking thoughts I've ever had. For Christ's sake genius, this isn't the first time you've woken up to find the world has tilted off center. Fear curls its fist around my gut. The nightmares of pain and water and champagne flutes rear their leering, metallic faces. I shove them back down into the pit they rose from, snarling inwardly at them. It isn't the same this time.

Something is definitely off, but I feel in my bones that it's not sinister. It's not just the small amount of trust I've reluctantly given to the people at this school that convinces me. It's the feeling that I've forgotten something important... No. More than important, I've forgotten something essential. I poke around in my head looking for it. Nothing comes to me except a sense of loss, like I'd somehow found the key to my cage and then lost it before I had a chance to open the lock...

What the...? I must have lost my mind to be thinking like this. I'm no art lovin', tree huggin', poetry spoutin' pansy! What the hell did they do to me while I was out? Did they have One-eye give me sensitivity training, or did they just put Oprah on the VCR in a repeat loop? At this rate, I'll be wearin' a damned dress by the time I walk out of here.

No way. This is not happening to me. I don't care how long it takes or how much soul searching (dammit, stop that!) I have to do to make sense of this mess. I want my life back. My life, not some watered down, sissified version of the real thing. I refuse to be a pantywaist like that do-gooder, Summers. I may not be the smartest guy in the place (hell, I know I'm not), but I'm stubborn, and these instincts of mine are good for more than sniffing out trouble.

I'll figure this out if it kills me.

---

Rogue

I'm walking. Slow, measured steps take me closer to the elevator. I want to run, but my knees are too shaky. I'd just collapse in a heap if I tried to move faster. One step at a time. Don't think, don't feel, just walk. Just keep moving. Just keep breathing.

I finally reach the elevator. I need to go back to class... I need to go... I need...

I lean my back against the smooth wall next to the elevator and slide down it. I bring my knees up in front of me protectively and wrap my arms around them. I pull my scarf from my neck and wad it up to hold in front of my mouth. It muffles the uncontrollable sounds I'm making.

I give myself over to the tears and tell myself that these are the last ones I'll shed. After this, I will never cry over him again. I will be Rogue - The good student, the unassuming friend, the untouchable girl who isn't bothered too much by her isolation. I will forget Marie. Marie is the one who dies today. She actually died in the med bay weeks ago when Logan broke away from her. I just didn't realize it before now. But she is gone, as surely as Logan's memory of her is.

I let them both go. Logan and Marie are nothing more than fantasies of things that can never be. But the death of a dream has to be mourned like any other loss, so I cry for them. I cry for who they could have been and what they might have had if things were different. I let the tears take the pain of shattered illusions with them.

I need this time to say goodbye, but then I'll be strong. I'll be Rogue. Rogue is a survivor. Rogue can paint a smile on her face and make them all believe she's ok. Rogue can hide in plain sight the way Marie never could.

No one will ever know that Rogue is broken inside.

---

Hold on, Hold on to yourself
For this is gonna hurt like hell