Sometimes the gift of life can be the cruelest irony of all. We are often left to wonder about our miseries, and the uselessness of the suffering we endure. Even more so when the people who suffer these cruelties are helpless to stop what comes their way, be it through the forces of God or the forces of nature. Regardless, all people suffer, both innocent and evil, some more than others. The saddest realization is that most of the suffering is brought on through sheer ignorance at man's failure to be open to what he cannot understand.

This irony is the cause of life's turmoil and so many are left to flounder around in the river that drowns them. There is no help to save them from their watery depths, no helping hand to reach into the liquid mass and pull them to safety.

The attitude of man is to each his own. With this mentality, people are left to struggle alone, while others who have the capability to help, turn the other way.

In a perfect world, we could understand and embrace each individual's imperfection and live a life of harmony and unison. In a perfect world, we could depend on others to be our savior when we feel the most oppressed. In a perfect world the burden that weighs down on our shoulders could be lessened by the help of someone willing to help lighten that load.

But sadly, this is not a perfect world, and that is not what we are here for.

Perhaps, we are all put here to find our path; to embark on that journey in which we are all destined to go, and to find a way of putting meaning into our suffering. Sometimes, Grace will smile down on us and offer a companion to journey with us. Others are meant to go that distance alone. Always alone.

For one girl, she has a path she is forced to follow because of man's ignorance and unwillingness to help what is different. She is different, and she was set down this path in her attempt to fight that age old struggle that life is. Maybe, just maybe she will finally come to terms with the purpose of her existence and find where in this wretched world she truly belongs.

---

Rogue, a girl barely in her twenties, was a beautiful creature. Her skin was as white as the moon that shone on her, bleached by the lack of exposure to the sun. Her hair floated around her as the soft breeze caressed each strand of white and brown, coaxing it into the dance it created.

Her beauty is deceiving, for by fault of nature, the innocent pallor and silkiness known as her skin was made to be a silent killer. Since that dreadful day when she found out about her ability to kill any person she touched, she took all measures to hide her fatal skin. But there was no need for such cautious measures tonight. With no one else awake, at least in touching distance, she abandoned the layers of scratchy material that usually hid her creamy skin from the world and donned attire appropriate for the humid night.

The youthful girl crept from the quiet stillness of the house she called her home and slowly made her way up a dirt road. The black night and slight hint of the moon leading her way could not hinder her walk down the path she has walked on every night for the past three years. This path was as familiar to her as the face she saw when she looked in the mirror. She could suddenly go blind, and not even that could stop her from setting foot on this road she had so well memorized.

Her shorts inched up her slender thighs, as she set to a faster pace, intent on reaching her final destination. Concentration marred her delicate features, until at last, the forest surrounding her made way to reveal a clearing she claimed as her own.

The sight never failed to take her breath away, as she took a seat on a rock that was always hers on these nightly rendezvous.

The clearing was actually a flat of land that led to the edge of a cliff hidden away by the dense forest. The grass was remarkably green, with little daisies and wildflowers blooming on every patch of green they could set their roots in. The moon, once concealed by the thick wood, shone brilliant and clear, proud to provide luminance on this little spot. The edge of the cliff looked out onto the vast sea, sparkling in the twilight of the moon shining from high above. That seamless expanse of blue was seemingly endless.

From where she sat on her rock she was afforded the perfect view. It was always in this have where she allowed herself to release the tension, the anguish, and the loneliness she faced throughout the span of the day. If she didn't have this spot to clear her thoughts, she knew she'd dwindle into nothingness. She needed this outlet, if only to keep her from dying inside...to keep her human.

Deep in her heart, she knew why she came here. It wasn't only to escape the harsh pressures she faced as a mutant. It was her sanctuary where she could give into the luxury of remembering him.

A rueful smile formed on her lips as she realized she could no longer bring herself to say his name aloud. It had been three years since he vanished from her life... three long years. Each day was an even bigger struggle for her to learn to move on. Time was supposed to heal wounds, but for her, they only grew deeper.

'Maybe it's because I can still feel his damn presence in my head.' Rogue shook her head. He was still in there, even after all these years. He may have been gone physically, but he remained in her, his feelings and spirit running through her, entwined with her own as if they were one.

The physical separation, though, weighed heavily in her heart. She wanted him with her, just so she could touch him even if it was through her thick gloves. She wanted to be able to talk to him, have him lash out at her, and to return to her side to whisper sweet nothings to her.

Rogue knew she loved Logan with all her heart. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. Each and every member of the X-Men worried as days grew on and she fell further into despair after Logan departed. She hated the way everyone tiptoed around her, treating her like an imbecile, and she could feel the Professor poking around in her head trying to decipher what mental state she was in. He probably didn't find anything too alarming, so he left her to her grief. Everyone else just chalked it up to being a schoolgirl consumed by her crush. No, she knew that it wasn't just a silly girly crush. It was something that exceeded words, transcended time, that left her heart quaking to the very core at the mere thought of how intense her love for Logan was. Whether he knew it or not, she would love him through her lifetime and for all eternity.

Slowly, Rogue broke the gaze she held of the sea. She looked down to her hands where she clutched the dog tags Logan had left for her those years ago. Unconsciously, while musing on her thoughts, she had somehow released the chain from inside her blouse, where it usually remained captive. She continued watching as her knuckles turned stark white from the grip she used to crush the tags to her thumping heart.

Time dragged on with each day she waited for him, but she couldn't bring herself to abandon him. He had promised her his return, and short of her death, here she would be when he arrived.

Tears escaped from her eyes and her throat choked on the unspoken sorrow she felt.

"Logan." She whispered through the tears. "Where are you?" Her soft voice intermingled with the sudden cool breeze that drifted by her and out across the sea. Hopefully that little breeze would be the carrier of her solemn message delivering it to the rightful recipient.

She closed her eyes to clamp down on the oncoming tears. Blinking rapidly to clear her blurry vision, she looked directly at the lone moon. With the tags against her heart, she spoke through the lump in her throat, "Come back to me."

Rogue took several deep, calming breaths regaining her lost composure. With leaden limbs, she steadily rose to her feet and turned to move down the pathway she used to get there. Before disappearing into the dank, isolated forest, she turned to look back at the moon, which glistened in the night. With a sigh, she ventured down her route back to the mansion.

---

A lone figure sat at the end of the bar, staring intently at the television screen. Instead of seeing what went on in the day's news, his sight was unfocused with muddled images and blurry visions. His mind was on other matters. Matters that plagued his animal heart.

Logan half watched what was happening on the screen, all the while, volleying the half-empty beer bottle between each of his hands. He became fed up with the incessant chattering of the news anchor. He pulled his eye away from the TV. His parched throat scratched with thirst and he automatically brought the condensed bottle up to his chapped lips, taking one large swig. He drowned his sorrows in his drink wanting to lose himself in a larger stupor in order to forget. Forget what? Everything.

'How ironic coming from a man who has nothing to forget in the first place.' Logan felt a sardonic smile cross his hardened features.

'God, Wolverine, how long has it been since you've been home? Can you even call it your home? Who are you? Where do you come from? Where do you belong?' Logan shook these all too familiar thoughts from his head, knowing the answers to each. Or, more likely, not knowing the answers. During these past years, his attempt to discover his history had led to nothing more than a renewed sense of self doubt, contempt, and loneliness. He left no lead unturned, but in the end he had come up with nothing. Nothing except for the fact that he was three years older and had no friend in the world except himself.

Logan was a man tortured in the depths of a lacerated soul. Most days he felt like the animal he was created to be. It was during those times he could feel the claws beneath his skin, itching to come loose and tear into something, anything...if only to rage on, allowing him to forget that somewhere in this beast lay a man. A man who yearned for the only tonic that quieted his feral urge.

He knew what that tonic was. He had left it years back when he started this whole damn conquest to discover the truth. He had left her, not too long after swearing to protect her. He felt like such a goddamned hypocrite. Instead of staying to protect her with every inch of his being, he fled.

The beast that was Wolverine and the man that was Logan had waged a silent war, demanding, convincing himself he didn't need anything or anyone. The more humane side, who stopped the truck to let that lost teen into his truck, stated that maybe he did. Maybe he could seek refuge in the celestial woman that was his Rogue. The man in him had wanted to stay and be one with her, but the wounded animal that lay hidden away in his body came alive and angered at the thought of being so needy. He felt much like a dog that limps along a dirt road all because he refused the help of the one kind person who tried to mend those wounds. And much like the dog that ran, so too did he. It was what he knew best.

So here he sat, a lone patron in a dirty, smelly, no where tavern, draining the bitter, piss colored liquor down his throat to forget his troubles, if only for one day.

Instead of having the desired effect, the alcohol loosened him up, permitting him to go where he normally banished his thoughts...or better yet, to the fantasies that showcased none other than the one he wanted body, mind and soul.

Slowly, Logan's eyes flickered shut. Immediately he could see the little angel, Marie... Rogue, flashing her pearly teeth in a dazzling smile that was meant only for him. Her cherubic face gazed at him in doe-like wonder, while her rosy lips were screwed in an attempt to conceal the squeal of laughter. His nose could almost smell the sweet scent of peaches drifting from hair that was unlike any other.

He felt like such a perv, his nasty thoughts taking advantage of such a young girl. But the vision of Rogue calmed his spirits like nothing else could and chased away his loneliness.

His eyes remained closed as he saw her whole body, which probably during this time, had gestated into that of a woman. He could almost feel each soft curve as he ran his hands over the swell of her waist, slowly gliding past her scrumptious bottom, and crossing against her soft back where he would pull her into the tightest embrace he could manage. It was immaterial that he couldn't touch her in reality, but it was his fantasy and this suited him just fine. All he wanted to do was hold her. His imaginary self relished the idea of being able to hug her, touch her in ways that no man could. In his heart, he had staked the claims on her as his. In his bestial mind he had marked her as his territory.

Logan suddenly became aware that he wasn't in some pleasant cosmic universe he'd created for himself, but in a dingy, gloomy bar in a bumfuck nowhere bar. His hands were suspended in midair rubbing an imaginary figure that didn't exist except in the recesses of his mind. He turned his head to find that the few customers in the place had stopped what they were doing and stared with their eyes wide and brows cocked. The bartender stood with the same look. The dishrag in his hand stilled and was left to wait until it's owner got over his surprise and continued on with his duty.

What a silly sight he must have been!

Probably one of the few times in recorded history, Logan blushed a very crimson red. His mouth opened and shut, while his brain knocked around figuring out a lame excuse. He gave up when his mind drew up a blank and clamped his mouth shut. He climbed off the barstool and took the forgotten beer bottle in his hand, chugged what remained, and dropped it onto the bar with a loud clatter.

Quickly, he grabbed his leather jacket, which remained on the stool next to him and rushed to the door. Not one to leave while looking extremely stupid and without the very last word, he stopped at the door turned around and gave the bar patrons a salute and a wink of the eye. And with that, he ran out the door.

---

One night, back at Xavier's school, Jubilee and Kitty noticed Rogue moping around. Instantaneously, they knew where her thoughts had strayed. She just sat in the study with a cup of hot chocolate in her hands, staring into nothingness, looking much like the lost little girl that she was. They exchanged looks and crossed to where Rogue sat.

"Come on, Rogue. Why don't you get out of those clothes and come with us?" Jubes asked.

Rogue eyed her as she and Kitty sat on the coffee table in front of her. Her suspicious mind wondered at their scheme then asked, "Why the hell should I do that?"

Kitty gave a whiny sigh, her shrill voice ringing in the quiet of the study. "Because! We never have any fun anymore, Rogy! We're hitting a club tonight, and we want you to come with us. Please, for my sake, just stop looking so depressed and at least pretend to enjoy the idea."

Rogue looked at Jubilee and Kitty, who at this point gave her puppy dog faces, pouty lips and all, knowing she would relent. Rogue mentally cursed at these two girls, but gave in anyway.

"Which club are we going to?"

Both girls shrieked with laughter and high fived, shouting, "Club Infinity!"

Inwardly, Rogue groaned. That just happened to be the most popular club in town, where people of all ages, legal and illegal went. There would be lots of people. Lots and lots of people. Just the thought of a crowded, smoke filled room, with droning music earsplitting enough to make a young person go deaf, made Rogue's stomach sink at the thought. 'Ugh, me and my promises.' Despite the fact that she, Kitty, and Jubilee were all the same age, she felt entirely too old to be doing anything of this nature. In many ways she was. She had a multitude of people beyond her years already rape her mind, depositing thoughts that didn't belong to her.

She could almost see Logan's face grimace at the thought of a club.

With a heavy sigh, Rogue got up and padded to her room to get dressed, leaving the two teenage girls as their babble buzzed on and on.

---

While at the club, Rogue sat alone at a table hidden in the corner, away from the maddening crowd. The last thing she wanted was to wreak havoc in a place like this. Accidentally bumping against a person, skin-to-skin, and sucking the life energy out of them was bound to do the job. So she was left at her table, in the shadows, watching while her friends slithered with some guys they met over on the dance floor.

Rogue's mind ticked off the reasons she had gone with them when all they did was have fun without her. They'd been there for hours and all Rogue wanted to do was go home, take a steaming hot shower to wash off all the grime and smoke that had collected on her, strip into her nighties, and fall into an oblivion of sleep, dreaming of Logan. Even sharing his nightmares through the course of the night seemed more appealing to her than having to reject each drunken bozo that came by, the foulness of their breaths suffocating her with their lame pick up lines.

The smoke inhalation and the flashing lights, not to mention the dense population choked Rogue. She could feel the beginnings of a migraine form between her temples.

'Fresh air, that's what I need.' Rogue pushed, and shoved, and shimmied her way to the door trying her best not to make contact with the club goers. She had to fight hard to ignore the hand that grabbed her ass. She was almost regretful she'd worn pants when the jerk that copped a feel deserved a thunder shock. With a sigh of relief, she reached the door and slammed it with her fists, venting all her frustration at the innocent piece of dirty metal.

It was dark outside even with the streetlights dotted throughout the street. She had gone to the back exit of the club and not a soul was in sight. Rogue thanked the heavens for that. The darkness loomed around her, but Rogue breathed it all in. The air was warm and the night clear, so enchanting, that Rogue couldn't resist the urge to watch the skies. As she looked to the brightest stars, her thoughts drifted to Logan once again. Little did she know that this distraction would be the biggest mistake of her life, causing it to change...forever.

---

Logan shoved the door to his motel room open and threw his jacket onto the nearby chair, narrowly missing it. Logan peeled the clothes that stuck to his perspiring body, save for his boxers, thankful for the relief from being covered on such a warm night. His damn day just got better when the air conditioner in the rancid room conked out.

Logan kicked the crap out of the dead machine, briefly considered using his metal claws on it. He thought against it and gave up with a huff of anger. He flopped unceremoniously onto the squeaky bed and laid spread out, gazing at a dirty wet spot on the ceiling.

He felt numbed through and through, but gradually the effects of the alcohol had taken its toll. Combined with the lukewarm air in the cramped room it did the job of rendering him useless. His eyes lost the battle to sleep and he fell into a deep slumber.

If a person walked in on Logan while he slept, they would immediately know that he was suffering immensely. His eyes were screwed shut, rivulets of sweat poured down the sides of his face and into the hair on his face, as though a faucet had been turned on. The nostrils of his nose flared with such intensity as loud, shallow breaths were being taken. He was having a nightmare.

This nightmare, though, was unlike any other that he'd grown accustomed to suffering through. Those specific ones caused him to literally feel physical pain, but were immediately forgotten once he awoke. This dream left his soul shattered into millions of pieces, abandoned, and helpless in a state that was beyond repair. He would wish no such feeling on any other living being.

In his sleep-induced state, he could see a young woman standing by the side of a road next to some kind of club. Or at least what he assumed it was a club, since boisterous music boomed from the inside. Logan's gaze traveled down the agile figure of the alluring woman. She stood watching the heavens above, her hair shining under the gloomy glow of the streetlamp beside her. He spied the bolt of white hair mixed with the darker strands.

Logan's heart rate doubled when he realized that the young woman was Rogue. His dream self was so jubilant when he spotted her that his feet were spurred into motion. But as he drew nearer, he felt his heart plummet to his feet when he saw a man clothed as dark and sinister as the night, come from behind her. The man grabbed at her sleeved arms, viciously securing them behind her back. Logan could see Rogue wince in pain, but she continued struggling with all the fire inside of her. Logan attempted to go to her side, but his feet were planted to the ground. An invisible force held him back making him useless to her.

Before she could even scream, the man in black took a syringe full of amber liquid and thrust it into her exposed throat. Logan watched in horror as a trickle of blood slid down her pale neck. He screamed and lashed out but to no avail.

She collapsed into the man's arms and he collected her limp body and escaped into the night. Not one witness was in sight except for Logan's dream self. He tried to get to her, but it was too late. As he chased after her abductor, the visions surrounding him turned into a deep fog, and suddenly the ground beneath him gave way. He was falling into nothingness at a break neck momentum. All the space around him had disappeared and he plunged further and further without any hope of righting himself onto safe ground.

"NO!" Logan sprang upright, sweat drenching his entire body. He was quaking with fear, and the adrenaline in him didn't cease its rapid course, dashing through his pulsing veins. Something horrendous had happened and he knew in the pit of his heart that it had to do with Rogue. She needed him and he wasn't there to help her.

Logan wasted no time gathering his belongings, sprinting back and forth to collect everything he owned. Whatever it was, whatever had caused this dream to leave him in its anguished condition, he knew in his heart that the dread he felt was all too real. He threw everything onto Cyke's motorcycle, and hopped on. His mind kept replaying the events he saw in his dream, and as he sped off into the night, Rogue's limp body burned in his mind's eye. He whispered her name in a desperate mantra, frantically trying to convince himself that everything would be alright. He knew one thing, that if anything had happened to her, it would be his fault. And no one would be able to convince him otherwise.

---

'God bless One-Eye for turbo speed on this damned thing.' The rapid pace in which the motorbike went was the only relief that filled Logan's body. He could feel the balistic rage in him surface, the alloy metal claws in his hands ready to rip through his taught skin. Logan tried unsuccessfully to will himself into believing that it was just a stupid dream. That he'd arrive at the School for Gifted Youngsters, find her sitting silently in the library reading because she couldn't sleep, and feel like a ridiculous fool. The butterflies in the pit of his stomach fluttered so anxiously he could almost hear their wings beating on the walls of his insides.

The scenery on either side of him blurred into one shadowy mesh as he sped through the landscapes of the land of the free. Dawn broke; relief flowed through his body when he caught sight of the elegant mansion sitting alone at the top of the hill. He made his way through the gates and came to a screeching halt, nearly sending him head first onto the concrete pavement. He stumbled off the bike and pounded on the oak door.

The atmosphere in and around the house assaulted Logan. The dread and grief so evident that he knew at once the unthinkable had happened. His impatience escalated since the door had not yet been answered. As he threw his hand up to beat against the door one more time, it creaked open to reveal Jean. The normally beautiful composed doctor's face was blotchy and her eyes red rimmed from crying.

In actuality, she didn't seem too surprised to see him as if she'd been expecting him. Her greeting was welcoming and warm nonetheless. If it had been any other time before he had realized his feelings for Rogue, he would have been the happiest man and would have loved to see her asshole boyfriend's reaction. But as it was, he was here because he loved Rogue and something terrible had happened to her. Not once during this time had his anxiety lessened, but intensified.

"Logan... I don't... I can't...Oh God, Logan! Why?" Jean wasn't making any sense and he told her so. She wiped her mottled nose on a torn up tissue. Her back straightened, her professionalism returning.

"Follow me," was all she said and she turned to walk down the hall. Logan tried to concentrate on the setting, hoping it would tamper down the stone that grew in his gut. Not much had changed. A few new pieces of furniture here and there, but it was magnificent as always.

Dr. Jean Grey led him into the infrequently used auditorium, which was filled with people. Logan couldn't ignore the shared despair that spread through each person in the room. His heart ached for the truth and feared it at the same time.

Jean gestured for him to follow her to where the rest of the X-Men were seated, all watching intently as the Professor wheeled himself up to the microphone and began his speech. His quiet words were detached as he spoke.

"A sad day has settled on the grounds of our school. A very important and beloved member of our school is no more."

Logan's mind whirled around, confusion setting in. The Professor didn't mean what Logan thought he meant, did he? Impossible. Logan's foot began tapping on the wooden floor, impatiently waiting for Professor Xavier to continue.

"The girl who we've all come to know and love as Rogue was found earlier today, her body hidden away in a dumpster. We cannot divulge the details as of yet, for it is an ongoing investigation, but remember her in your prayers and mourn for her as the beautiful soul she was. May God be with her and with us all during this difficult time. If you feel the need to talk to someone, your professors and myself are available to counsel with you. Thank you."

The Professor wheeled off the stage, sadness settled on his wise features.

Logan couldn't believe his ears. He stood shell-shocked. Whatever it was, he wasn't prepared to hear that the only person he loved, his little Marie was gone. She was an angel now, but in all honesty he couldn't bring himself to believe she was dead.

"She's not dead!" he yelled at the remaining members of the X-Men, his shout echoing in the large room. Scott Summers, though his eyes were shielded from view, sympathized with Logan and attempted to comfort him. Rogue, after all had been one of his more cherished students.

"I know you can't accept it Logan, but.." Logan lashed out at him, "She's NOT dead! I would know it!" and with that he shoved Scott's hand off his shoulder.

Ororo Munroe approached him cautiously, seeing all the turmoil that boiled in his eyes and in his stance. She acted like the very goddess she was, a tamer to the earth and sky, as well as to this enraged man.

Compassionately, she said, "Logan, we all loved Rogue as much as you did-"

Logan harshly interrupted her, stating, "No you don't understand! You're heart hasn't been ripped from you and torn into pieces..." Realizing that he released too much information, he stopped mid sentence and pressed his lips firmly shut, stopping from saying anything more incriminating. He couldn't look the others in their faces. He tore his gaze away from the shocked expressions that regarded him closely.

Ororo took his larger hand in her clammy ones and led him out of the auditorium. Feeling cold and numbed to the bone, Logan gave her no trouble.

He looked at her in confusion as they entered a different part of the mansion and asked, "Where are you taking me?"

She didn't look at him when she answered, "To see her body."

---

Logan had expected that Rogue would be held in the morgue, but instead she was in one of the family bedrooms. This particular room was in a whole other wing, in the more private quarters of the large estate. The air was stale from the lack of use since it was away from the other wings occupied by the faculty and students.

Ororo opened the door with a reserved reverence. She had infinite respect for the dead instilled in her from her days in the tribe that shunned her. Ororo stayed in the doorway, allowing Logan to pass her into the room. She watched him as he glanced around the room, taking in the new surroundings. A melancholic look took residence on her exotic face.

"Take all the time you need," and with that she shut the door firmly behind her.

Logan barely registered Ororo had left, his whole attention was on the person on the made bed.

At first, Logan couldn't do anything but just gape at the ashen figure lying still on the bed. Still, she was so still, so white, so lifeless, like a rag doll tossed carelessly aside with no further use. The shock of her colored hair even with the two strips of white, stood well out of place. She was so unlike the beautiful individual with such spitfire passion and love within her. No, this couldn't be Rogue.

He finally uprooted his heavy feet and dragged himself to where she lay. His breath hitched when he came closer, allowing the conclusion that this was really her. A moment before, a stony mask had clung to his exterior, but seeing her as pale as the white lace dress she wore was more than his self-control could handle.

The mask chipped away as the shock wore off, replaced by the actual misery he felt inside. He felt like half of his soul was missing, ripped away from its partner and no longer one of a whole. Logan crashed to his knees, his whole body drained of all the rage and anger he felt earlier. He felt tired, haggard. He laid his head on the bed beside her fragile arm and sobbed with all that was in him. The pain he felt could no longer be contained and as time passed, he growled with the hopelessness that consumed him.

Sluggishly, he picked his head back up to look at her, waiting, watching for any sign of movement, hoping that this was all a horrid nightmare. He almost begged with an absurd inclination to wake up. No such relief came to him.

He saw her hands placed delicately atop her chest grasping a lily, as beautiful and fragile as she was. Logan could no longer take the resistance of touching her porcelain skin. Ever so cautiously, he released one of her hands from their position, taking care not to disturb the little flower and held her smaller hand in his larger one. He waited for that jolt to come draining the life from within him, prayed for some sign to prove that she wasn't really dead. Nothing came. Logan stayed like that, watching her angelic face, eyelids closed and the splash of lashes resting on the unblemished apples of her cheeks. He stayed long after the tears had subsided.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Logan brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. He slowly stood, his knees cracking from the long held position. He stooped once more to kiss her.

Brushing hair from her forehead, he placed a tender kiss on where the hair once was, then brought his face within millimeters of her lips. With the final resolve he had, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips lovingly to hers, once again hoping she would be Snow White and the magic would wear off. That she'd float slowly back to life with the power of a kiss. Nothing happened so he broke the contact and erected his back into the coldness he felt. He turned to leave and looked at her one last time before shutting the door.

Logan fell against the closed door and slid down, the oppressive weight he felt more than he could bear. His mind roared back to life and he became more aware of his surroundings. He became aware of something very alarming. After the initial shock of seeing her there, no life inside of her had finally subsided, the spot where Rogue always lay in his heart should have felt empty, but it was still surprisingly full. He looked up in shock. His mind told him that it was impossible, but his heart wouldn't let the thought go. He tried to deny that it just wasn't possible, but he couldn't.

He had seen her body, touched it not moments ago, and yet, here he was conjuring up an idea so absurd. The wheels in his head started turning, gearing up at the idea that had filled his thoughts. He couldn't explain his gut instinct and if he'd learned anything, it was to go with his intuition. What if... just what if Rogue wasn't really dead? That body may have looked like her, but what if it really wasn't her? If Rogue were really, truly dead, he would know it...feel it. Wouldn't he?

Wouldn't he?

---

Location: Unknown
Time: Unknown

The gentle caress of air from the vent blew across her face, disturbing the tumble of hair that lay around her. Tiny strands loosened from the rest of her hair, tickling the sides of her face. An annoyed groan came from the woman's lips as her hand moved to brush away the bothersome strands.

"Just a few more minutes mom...I'll...I prom..."

Suddenly the girl startled awake, confused by her surroundings.

Rogue's eyes were frightened by what she saw. Sleep was long forgotten as she stumbled to her feet. She absorbed all that she saw and desperately tried to remember how in the hell she ended up here in the first place.

Long hours of drug-induced sleep and a head rush finally caught up with her causing her stance to sway with the unexpected queasiness. Rogue reached out to take support of the wall that was within touching distance. She took several shallow breaths trying to regain her composure and willed the ill-timed headache away.

After a few minutes she seemed to feel a bit better so she scanned the room to find any clue that might give away the reason she was here, or where HERE was. Rogue looked down at her feet feeling the cold tile floor for the first time. On her mission to look down she also noticed that she wore nothing but a thin, see-through hospital gown. Her hands flew to the back of the gown and her eyes bugged out when she felt nothing but a tiny paper-like string holding the two ends of fabric together.

'What the hell kind of freak show is this?' she thought as her eyes searched the room.

The room was a moderate sized cubicle. All four walls were covered with white padding and the floor was as bleached looking as the walls. There were no outlets except for the door in the far right hand corner, no windows were available save for the little looking box on the door, but the lid on the other side covered even that. There was a tray slot closer to the ground, but that was too small for her to fit through and too far down to be able to reach the door handle. A sterile looking metal toilet and sink were in the corner opposite the door. A cot lay just across from the "bathroom" and the sheets were covered in... yep! You guessed it, WHITE. The atmosphere absolutely screamed a hospital and had just about the same appeal as one. 'No scratch that. More like a loony bin.'

Rogue's feelings were in turmoil as she realized that there was no way out. She was truly stuck in this place and no one could help her. Except for...the Professor! She tried mentally calling him, hoping that it would work even if she weren't a born telepath herself. Her brows knitted together as her eyes shut in concentration. She rubbed at her temples forcing her brain to cooperate in contacting the Professor. Some way let him know she was alive.

"That won't do, Marie." A voice erupted from out of the blue. A microphone was hidden from view. The piercing echo boomed thru the room, its loudness rumbling against the tile floor. Rogue clapped her hands over her ears to soften the ringing that resounded.

With her hands still on her ears she wildly glanced all around the room trying to find where the voice originated. For the life of her, Rogue couldn't figure out where the annoying sound was coming from.

"Who are you?! What the fuck do you want with me?" All the tension and exasperation from her situation finally took flight. "I'm of no use to you! Dammit! Let me go!" She screamed from the tops of her lungs, her shout reverberating against the walls of her jail cell.

The monotonous voice had stopped at her tirade, but continued before she could cause another outburst.

"On the contrary, Marie, you are quite essential to our program. From now on there are no connections between you and the outside world, physically or mentally. You are now a part of the Judas Project. This will be your home from this day forth. All people who once knew and loved you have now forgotten your existence. Your presence is essential to this project. You are the key to helping the world be rid of mutants. Once and for all." And with cold finality the monotone disappeared.

Rogue was horrified beyond words. 'Help this shit hole get rid of mutants?! Were they insane?' Probably, but that was beside the point. Rogue shouted out, "I'll never help you! There is no chance in hell you'd ever get me to betray mutants! I have two words for you, assholes. Fuck YOU!"

The last of her words echoed in her ears mixing with the ringing that came from her pounding heart. She fell to her knees in grief and covered her face, trying to capture the onslaught of tears that had begun cascading. She felt something bump against her breast, something she had not noticed before. She reached into the shirt to pull out the offending object.

It dawned on her that the offending object was Logan's dog tags. She thanked the gods that somehow these heinous people had managed to find some compassion (if that's what it was) in their callous hearts and let her keep the most precious thing in her life.

Her vision blurred with tears as she stared at the glinting metal. Her thumbs stroked the indented word "Wolverine." Her eyes drifted shut dreaming of the home she was taken from, the people who no longer knew if she were dead or alive. Mostly she thought of the man whose name was engraved on those tags and meant more than anything else in her world.

Something about one of the tags caught her attention. She looked at the second tag more closely because it looked suspiciously different. Instead of being the pair that belonged with Logan's first one, this one had her own name "Marie" engraved on it. A bar code was stamped below her name. She was nothing more than a cow sent off to the slaughterhouse.

These people weren't compassionate! It was some kind of cruel joke. She had become their slave and this was their reminder that she belonged to them now and that the world she once knew was torn from her grasp forever.

The hopelessness in her heart ached more than words could express. It combined with the knowledge that a terrible change would be coming to the innocents... to all mutants. Her friends would all be among them if she didn't get out and fast.

All she knew was that she couldn't stay here; she had to get out somehow and warn everybody. One phrase resonated in her head... 'But how'?

---

During the middle of what she assumed was night (all lights had been switched off) she heard a loud rumbling approaching her room. She ran over to the door and pressed her fingertips and ear to the frigid metal door. The rumbling was definitely getting louder and there was a distinct pitter-patter of footsteps all heading towards her room.

Rogue pushed away from the door, anxiety crossing her visage. She desperately sought a place to hide or to at least convince her would be abductors into thinking she was gone. The only space available was that of the crawl space beneath her cot and without much thought she climbed under, holding her breath. She waited for that door to come bursting open.

She didn't have to wait long because almost an instant after she climbed under the bed the door opened, white light flashing into the pitch-black room. People hidden behind surgical suits and masks wheeled a gurney into the room. For almost a split second she fooled herself into believing she had deceived them. That flutter of hope died out as soon as she saw the padded feet from where she hid. More feet rounded the bed and gloved hands grabbed at her arms and legs pulling her from her sanctuary.

She shrieked vile words at them, spit curse words back and forth. Her southern accent thickened with the passion and hatred she felt in her body. She kicked and punched at the people who held her down but it was to no avail. They thrust her upon the gurney, cold, uncaring hands buckling her down with straps. One by one each strap was locked into place, bruising delicate skin as they went. No further movement was allowed. Rogue shook as much as she could to resist, looking almost as if a demon had entered her body and taken violent possession. One would think an exorcism was about to be performed, but not was such the case.

A man in a white lab coat broke through the array of uniformed people, a syringe of bluish liquid ready to be injected. His face was hidden by the bright light, which shone from behind. Rogue's eyes widened in fear and she released an animalistic sound, gripped in the terror that consumed her.

The man in the coat viciously caught her arm and as if in slow motion, the needle came slowly toward her pinched skin. Time came crashing back into reality and the pain of the needle's entrance caused her to cry out for help one last time. The doctor withdrew the needle and signaled for her to be wheeled away. As the gurney was wheeled down the hallway, Rogue had drifted into an unnatural sleep. The only sign of her existence was the cry that still echoed in the room where she was held captive.

---

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters
Several months later

Logan sat unmoving in his room. He felt like a zombie with no reason to move or live. It had been months since that unforgettable day he'd lost Marie. Or at least he had finally convinced himself that it was Marie. He didn't have a sudden epiphany as to where she may be and the connection between her and Professor X and even Jean had been severed. Life around him had moved on while he sat and waited as time wasted away. Life for him was all about numbers. One hundred and two days, six hours, twelve minutes and ten seconds since she died...disappeared...whatever. Fifteen seconds...twenty-two seconds.

Sure, he had moved on a little. He officially became one of the X-Men. He couldn't bring himself to leave the place when he knew this was Rogue's home. He'd even taken the room that was hers before her death, leaving it in exactly the same condition with a few minor adjustments. For instance, his underwear and the like had been placed beside hers. In the closet, he had made a little space to accommodate the few clothes that he had. Her cute little outfits she owned were still hanging proudly, untouched since the last day she had rifled through them. He would sometimes imagine her hand grazing each garment as she stood contemplating, her head cocked and brows pinched trying to decide what to wear. He even had his shoes next to hers on the closet floor.

In the bathroom, he had moved some of her belongings over to make room for his razor, shaving cream, etc. The shampoo bottles remained under the cabinet, and even the ones she used before she was gone still remained where she left them in the shower. On his hardest days, Logan would find himself drawn to the medicine cabinet where he would pull her perfume from its place and lift it to his nose, smelling, trying to remember her.

Each passing day never went by without a thought of her. And each thought of her never passed without a slow ache building in his bruised heart. He missed her, missed everything about her. Plain and simple. He missed the way she smiled, the way she smelled the way she...

There he went again running away with his thoughts of her.

'This will be the cause of your demise, Logan.' His all knowing brain suggested.

"I know that! Maybe that's a good thing. I can finally be with her. No wait! Shut up! Great! Now I'm talking to myself." His mouth shut with a distinctive snap, his face growing red at how angered he was with himself.

His mind continued taunting him, 'It's all your fault you know. If you had only been here like you said you would, but no, you had to go and be all macho, putting on that fake bravado appearance that any blind person could see through. If only you hadn't left, if only you had stayed by her side, if only you had shut up and listened to your more human half instead of the whipped dog one. If only...if only...' his mind could go on for hours contemplating at least five-hundred ways he had failed Rogue. He supposed it was his contrition for being such a dumb ass.

If this weren't bad enough, he dreamt of her at nights too. Some were good some were bad, but they were always of her.

Logan decided he needed to shut his mind off and stop thinking before he needed to be hauled off to the mental hospital. He sat once more on the bed drifting off into zombie mode, to a place where he felt nothing but cold emptiness.

---

Location: Rogue's Room
Time: 6 months since abduction

Rogue's body was limp on the bed where they left here every day for the past...God knows how long. Her hair was greasy and tangled from months of not bathing, her body odor foul to anyone else's senses. Of course, she had become immune to her own soiled smell as well as all things she used to consider normal. Namely human feelings. She no longer had feelings, no emotions. Everything inside of her was dead. If this was the job these people of the 'Judas Project' had set out to do, to break one more measly mutant's spirit, then they were doing one hell of a fucking fine job.

Over the course of the months she'd been detained, her body only grew weak and thin from the stress and malnutrition in which it suffered. She was just a lab rat. These people wouldn't bother cleaning or feeding a lab rat and they treated her with the same negligence.

Her spirits were as broken as her body felt. Rogue ached in parts of her body that she didn't even know existed. The monotony her life experienced was causing her thoughts to become more and more deranged. She spent most of her time, arms wrapped securely around her knees, as she rocked back and forth, back and forth, singing to herself, mumbling nonsense. She didn't have to look in a mirror to know the dead eyes of a corpse reflected back at her.

It was the same since that first day. Every night these people cloaking their treachery behind their surgical scrub outfits came to her like thieves in the night. And every night the same bloody doctor in the same bloody lab coat would approach her with the same bloody syringe and inject her till his heart's content.

She had tried for the first few weeks to defend herself, to break free, but the furthest she ever reached was the door to her room before the bastards grabbed her and thrust her down onto the gurney. After that she just gave up fighting. Their gloved hands would buckles those straps, imprisoning her to the metal bed. SNAP! SNAP! She would count them off as she heard each strap close, bounding her to the bed. There were five. Like the five wounds of Christ. Two to hold down her wrists, two for her feet, and one larger one tightened across her middle.

She let them run their tests, poking her with more needles, prodding her with exploring fingers, attaching her to machines that beeped loudly. She could hear it in her head.

Beep...beep....beep....beep...

Rogue felt their violation, sympathizing with rape victims, concluding that everything about her had been raped, her body and her mind. She didn't ask for the thoughts of the people she touched, and she didn't ask for these people to touch her with their latex covered hands.

She wanted to kill those machines she was always hooked to and everyone else that had done this to her. As time dragged on, her slight hope that her knight in shining armor (Logan, her mind supplied) who would save her from this black pit of hell, died. At first, she had cried herself to sleep, but the tears had ceased to come. She was empty. Her water had run dry.

Rogue didn't know what those doctors wanted from her, what those tests were for. Hell! It had been months since she'd spoken to anyone. Even that damned monotone voice from the first day never returned. All she knew was how she felt. After the doctors would cut her open, inject hundreds of different fluids into her system, pinch, prod, poke, she'd finally fall into that blessed oblivion and in the morning, when the lights had been switched back on, would she awake to find she was still in this horrific nightmare. After living this way, she pitied the poor frog Ororo had them dissect a few years ago in Biology. She knew exactly how the frog felt, except he had the privilege of being dead when he was cut into.

After awhile though, it dawned on her that something had changed. The natural buzz from her mutation followed her like a shadow, but after months of treatment, of the horrible experiments she endured, she could feel the shadow fade away. It was on that day that she felt the slightest amount of happiness she'd felt in a long time. She looked down at the necklace around her neck and looked back up. Her eyes no longer saw her prison walls, but something she hadn't seen in a long time. Hope.

"Good God, Wolverine. They've made me human."

---

We'll never know why things happen the way they do. Maybe it's meant to be that way because there's not always an answer to a question. Life isn't some systematic list that comes with instructions. You do this this way, and you do it that way, and bam! Everything works out. No, sadly, life just isn't that easy. It was never meant to be.

Obstacles are put in our way in order to teach us hard lessons. It's up to us whether we'll use that lesson for good or for bad. Whether we'll pick up the pieces and make do with what we have or if we'd fumble into nothingness growing bitter as we grow older. But if you were to continue down that dark path, you'd only look back to realize that you went the wrong way and by then it would be too late. You can never turn back the hands of time.

---

It started off just like any other mission. Bad guys versus good guys, bad guys causing chaos around the humans, X-men go to save the day, yadda, yadda, yadda. If only Logan hadn't been so obtuse. It wasn't like any other mission at all. It would prove to be one of the darkest days in the history of X-Men.

Professor Xavier sent an urgent message among all members of the X-Men via ESP. Logan was in the kitchen helping Storm make dinner. He sliced and diced at those veggies making the tossed salad like no one else could. Storm was about to put the brisket in the oven when the message came. She turned to see Logan with the same expression on his face, fist still caught in mid-air.

He caught her look and they nodded knowingly. Logan slid the metal knives back into his fist. They both dropped what they were doing and walked towards the door. As he let Storm pass through the door first, he bent closer to her ear and said, "Looks like dinner's gonna be cold again tonight."

She didn't look at him, but he could see the smirk pressing on her face. They exited the room to answer the call.

---

All members gathered in the meeting room. Once they were all settled they directed their attentions to Xavier who waited patiently to begin his oration.

"It seems there's been a disturbance downtown."

"What kind of disturbance?" Scott Summers, the faithful leader of the X-Men interrupted.

Xavier's mouth frowned a little. "A group of rebel mutants who were imprisoned in the downtown jail succeeded in breaking loose. They're holding all officers and staff as well as human prisoners at the detention center hostage. The leader of the pack, Predator, is a very dangerous cold-blooded murderer."

Logan mumbled under his breath, "Oooooh. Toughguy." Jean sensing his agitation smiled a little in his direction.

"In any case," he continued, "I know fairly little about this new group. I have tried telepathy to get into the mind of Predator, but I have had no success at this time. I believe that he may have the power to block any type of telepathic powers from being used against him. If I'm right, then this would suggest that his mutant abilities are for more superior than we realize. I believe that he has the ability to absorb any kind of power used against him and use it against the very person he absorbed it from. So please proceed with extreme caution." Professor X insisted.

The group seeing that the Professor was finished with the briefing, scattered to go change into their outfits.

---

Cyclops was ready before the rest and he sat at the controls of the Blackbird waiting for the members of his team to arrive so they could get this show on the road.

One by one they crowded into the high tech jet and strapped on their seatbelts. Logan winced at Cyk's jerky take off.

"Hey One-Eye! When we get back, I'm going to pitch in to help pay for some REAL flying lessons. My stomach has been doing some funny stuff due to the pathetic stunts you call flying." Logan quipped from the back seat.

Cyclops took it all in stride, his calm exterior not once losing its cool. "It's probably all that raw meat you chow down at din din time, Wolfie."

Logan hid the grin that came from the jibe. He'd never let on, but he liked jerking the boy's chain, loved getting under his skin. He liked it even better when One Eye would try to throw a jab back at him. Out loud he said, "yeah, yeah keep talking."

With that the jet blasted off faster than the speed of light.

---

As Blackbird neared the chaotic scene each member groaned inwardly at the destruction that had been caused. Police vehicles from other parts of the city were parked around the complex, red and blue lights blazing in the dim sky. Winter had drifted in, the ground covered with snow sleeping all around. The frigid air made each person outside miserable. If possible, the temperature seemed to be dropping by the second. The night haze began floating in, draping the city in a tent of blue/gray paint.

Officers stood behind their cars, guns steady and ready to fire on command. The higher ranks were negotiating a plan, talking into their walky talkies. Agents in blue barked orders right and left, messengers running around in circles trying to get the commands delivered. Snipers were camouflaged on the juxtaposed buildings targeting the jail. Men dressed in black were huddled together at a van watching a screen and waiting for a plan to be agreed upon.

The choppy sound of a helicopter circled around and around, doing nothing but adding to the loud noises that surrounded the area.

From the bird's eye view, the X-Men could see into the compound. The inside was as haywire as the outside. The mutants who had started this whole ordeal were running around waving guns and all kinds of paraphernalia in the air. Others stood on the brick walls, firearms aimed to shoot. The hostages couldn't be seen, but were assumed to be captive inside.

Cyclops lowered the jet onto the roof of a nearby high-rise. He told Storm to fly out and assess the situation. The rest gathered together ready to make their way over to the jail. With assured stances, Cyclops, Jean and Logan hopped from one roof to the other. They slinked from each obstacle looking like jaguars moving in on the prey. They came upon the wired link fence surrounding the jail. Making sure they wouldn't be seen, they rounded to the far back fence where they dropped onto the softened ground. Storm created a diversion in order to take the attention off of her approaching teammates.

She flew high into the air, her eyes becoming a solid mass of white marble. She spread her arms like an eagle and beckoned for the clouds to bow to her whim, for the storms to arise. The clouds around her darkened in anger and snow flurries began falling from the heavens. Her body and hair clad in white were camouflaged in the blankets of ice that fell.

She then flew to where her team was. Just as she landed next to Logan, Cyclops focused his ruby visor on the weak fence burning a large whole in it with his rays. It was surprisingly quiet on the lot they had entered, but they knew these things could be deceiving. Like the pink panther they maneuvered their bodies keeping hidden by any wall or covering they could use. They decided to split up, Jean and Storm heading inside to find the hostages and Cyclops and Wolverine to battle on the outside.

As the two men rounded the corner of the brick building, they could see Predator with perfect clarity. He stood high on the watchtower taunting the police and anyone who dared to challenge him.

"You want me?! Come and get me!" Predator screamed maniacally. "I'd like to see what you puny humans could do to me." He then glared menacingly at the humans below.

Logan thought Predator was one of the ugliest sons of bitches he'd ever set sights on. The man, no, monster stood a good seven feet high. He looked like a blown up beefcake, the muscles on his body entirely too big for the size of his head. The prison issued shirt barely covering the wide girth of his chest. The buttons looked like they would explode at any second. The man had a face as ugly as his body. His hair was scraggly, falling over his face like a series of rat-tails formed in a circle. His eyes were blacker than coal, flecks of yellow in the irises; the pupils were the slits of a snake. The nose on his face was disproportionate, being fat and broken, almost as if Wolverine had used his metal bones to crack the nose into that swelled and slanted state. The hatred spewed forth from his eyes as a snarl came spitting from his mouth. His teeth were well in view, pointed and razor sharp like a shark's.

The two X-Men glanced apprehensively at one another. Simultaneously, each released a breath they hadn't realized they'd been holding. They wondered how the women were fairing, but instinctively knew they'd be able to take care of themselves. Cyclops hid behind the corner and pressed his leather clothed back into the brick wall. He looked directly at Wolverine, the command understood by the wolfish man. He held up his hand and without a word passing between the two men, he counted off with his fingers. One...two...three...Go!

They ran like mad men into the wrestling ring. As they drew closer to where all the convicts were, hell broke loose. The police had decided to blast a bomb thru the front brick wall, and hundreds of policemen infiltrated the compound their guns pointed, set to attack. Wolverine and Cyclops stood stunned for a split second watching the war of the worlds that had been let loose. Predator came bounding off the 2-story watchtower, landing like a cat on its feet. Men in blue fired their weapons as mutant men aimed back with a variety of powers. Bullets flew all around, rays of blue, yellow, red shooting from the men that shot them. Predator grabbed at his enemies lifting and sending them into walls effortlessly.

Without further thought, Wolverine unleashed the angry metal claws that had been scratching to come out. His face hardened into a scowl as he took off towards Predator's direction. Cyclops' disapproving shout mixed into the snowstorm, which continued to fall relentlessly.

Predator could sense the smell of Wolverine before he even crossed his path. He kept his back to Wolverine in an attempt to catch him off guard. As Wolverine leaped into the air, claws ready to kill, Predator swirled around slapping the man onto the ground. He had used his hand like a bug swatter and Wolverine was just another pesky bug. Predator jumped onto Wolverine, his full body weight crushing the man into the snow. He lifted his own hand ready to strike when a red blast shot him away. Wolverine looked up to see Cyclops behind him, his hand resting on his recently used visor. They exchanged relieved smiles that died instantly when Predator bounded towards Cyclops, mad rage pumping in his veins.

"You stupid mutant!" He screamed. "Don't you know what I can do to your pathetic body?" Cyclops continued to shoot his rays at the beast, but they weren't having any effect on him.

The maniac mutant just bellowed his laugh at Cyclops' attempt to destroy him.

"Let a real man show you how it's done." And with that, he shot rays from his eyes at Cyclops. Wolverine by this time had sprung into action. He tackled and killed in order to reach where they were. He jumped to tackle Predator before he could pull another move.

"Nooo!!" But he was too late. As he forced Predator and himself to the ground, Predator's final shot hit its target. Straight into Scott Summers' heart.

Wolverine acted without thinking, a blind fury overtaking his senses. He grabbed Predator's shirt and tore his harsh claws into the evil man's heart. Blood gushed forth, splattering onto Wolverine's leather uniform. He kept his claws in the larger man and yanked them upward. Predator's eyes clouded as blood filled them and death passed through. With a sanguine cough, the man's life left him and Wolverine threw the heavy man's lifeless body to the ground.

Everything had happened in split seconds. When he turned, he saw that Scott had sunk to his knees, blood pouring from his wound. His mouth was wrenched wide open at the shock and pain of his own power being used against him. The next few moments seemed to pass in slow motion as Logan tried to hurry to the fearless leader's side. Just as he knelt next to him the image he saw would haunt him for the rest of his days. Scott Summers' weighted body at last fell soundlessly into the gentle snow. As his head hit the ground, his ruby quartz visor came loose falling a few inches from Scott's head. Blood dribbled from his mouth.

The bloodshed and the gore faded into the background as Logan watched the young man's startlingly blue eyes gaze lifelessly at the heavens above. The visor that had once covered those eyes sat inches away for the power it protected would never be used again.

Life had come and passed just as the snow around them slowly stopped its tirade.

---

Location: Unknown
Time: Nearly two years after Rogue's abduction

Tonight was different. She could sense it. Rogue sat frozen on the cot, waiting for the men she detested to come. They had done every violation against her possible. She had no more fight left in her body, no more zest to fend them off, so she just waited to let them do what they needed.

Tonight would be different though. She heard footsteps clicking down the hall.

It was time.

Instead of the numerous soft-footed sounds she had grown accustomed to, she heard what sounded like three people. The door opened slowly revealing that she had indeed been correct. Three people stood at her door, her eyes squinting against the bright light behind them. One man and one woman were dressed in the standard scrub suits. They stood on either side of the same doctor that had tortured her night after night, month after month. The two orderlies came into her room and all she could do was stare at them. They grabbed her rather roughly and hauled her into a standing position.

The man secured one arm while the woman secured the other. The doctor in the white lab coat stepped into the room, the furthest he'd ever been since she was here. He came to stand in front of her. For the first time, she got a good, clear look at his face. She felt a shiver go through her spine at the discovery that he looked like any normal person. A person she could see herself go to when she got sick.

'Great, Ted Bundy Jr.' she thought mournfully.

The man just stood towering over her, staring with intense, darkened eyes. His eyes flicked from her face down to her feet then up again, his head not moving a centimeter.

His rubber-gloved hand seized her trembling chin. A single tear found its way down her chin as her eyes stared, frightened of the man.

He leaned toward her. It took all of Rogue's strength not to flinch at the disgusting man. She almost succeeded until he whispered into her ear, "It's time."

He pulled into an upright position once more. With a flick of the hand, the two orderlies bustled into action cracking a handcuff over Rogue's tender wrists hauling her out the door and down the hall to meet with her destiny.

---

The distance they walked to the operating bay was more exercise than Rogue received the entire time she was imprisoned. Her limbs ached from the lack of use, her head groggy from the suspended time she stood vertical. She'd been so used to being drugged, NOT being drugged was horrifyingly strange to her now. She let the people at her side lead her to the sterile room behind the swinging metal doors.

Her mind started racing a million miles a second, exaggerating thoughts and possibilities that would explain why she was being led to this room without being in a gurney. This was definitely not protocol.

For some heart pounding minutes she actually believed that they were going to operate on her while she lay awake. The thought of a scalpel being incised into her while she sat watching terrified her beyond belief. Her thoughts immediately swam to Logan, sadness filling her. The thought that she would never see that brute man again was unbearable.

Her bare feet padded softly against the hard tile floors. Once they entered the operating room her eyes took in anything they could see. She saw the operating table and all the surgical equipment around the room. Her eyes widened at the sight of the table.

The doctor saw her reaction and alleviated her worries.

"Not today, Miss Marie. We have something else in mind for you," his quiet tone soothing doing little to calm her anxious feelings.

She couldn't resist. She had to know. "What DO you have in mind, Doctor?" she asked with purposeful harshness.

The doctor willfully ignored her, instead walking ahead to a door on the opposite side of the operating room. He turned the handle and held the door open for her. The orderlies walked through the door with her and sat her in the chair in the middle of the room. She winced as the frigid metal shot through her thin hospital gown. A shiver ran down her spine... and not only because of the cold.

The room itself reminded Rogue of an execution chamber and the chair they placed her in looked like an electric chair, except without the headgear on top of it. It did, however, have leather shackles on the armrests. The gloved hands of the orderlies worked clinically and efficiently in strapping her into the chair. They moved further down the chair to buckle her ankles into place. She couldn't move at all.

The doctor dismissed the two assistants. They shut the door behind them with a definite turn of the lock on the outside.

Rogue's look was a poisoned tipped dart aimed directly at his head. He continued pacing to and fro not bothering to talk to her. His face changed expressions every few seconds while he stayed deep in thought. Rogue's head followed him as he paced, wishing he'd stop because he made her more jittery with the ticking of the clock. She thought he could burn a path into the floor with all that walking.

After an eternity the doctor stopped. He turned to grab a wooden stool by the table, which was filled with all kinds of needles and liquids. Her eyes remained on the table of torture until she felt the doctor's close proximity to her.

He turned his piercing gaze towards her, a lock of chocolate hair tumbling in front of his eyes. Rogue took a really good look at him. He wasn't old at all, not like the kind of person she imagined a mad scientist would look like. He was sort of handsome in a weird way, but he was demented. She kept repeating that to herself over and over.

Finally, the doctor broke eye contact and hung his head, shaking it loosely from side to side.

"Miss Marie, the Judas Project is done testing on you." He started.

"So...so I'm free to go?" she stammered in her southern belle accent.

His eyes filled with regret. "Not exactly. I shouldn't even be telling you this." His eyes filled with something else. He brought his expert hand up to her face inches from touching it.

Her eyes widened and she snapped her head away from him. "No! You don't know what you're doing!" His hand dropped, a sardonic smile filling his features.

He looked her directly in the eyes and said, "Yes I do." With that he brought his hand back up to her unwilling face. Slowly, achingly slowly his skin made contact. Her eyes were wielded shut, her breath refusing to come out as she waited for her power to set in. Time lingered and yet nothing happened.

She pried her lids open, gradually turning her head back to meet the doctor. She was in shock.

"Ya...yer not dead?!" Rogue asked, not yet willing to believe.

The doctor shook his head negative. "As you can see, our work has succeeded. In time, there will be an all mutant ban. You were one of the most powerful mutants we'd ever seen. So we knew we needed you. Using you as a subject has allowed us to come up with a powerful agent that will be used on all mutants in the near future. There will be a national emergency. The president will release a warning about a viral outbreak. He will force a demand that each and every person go to the hospital to receive a vaccination. This vaccine that we've created will be injected to all beings, human and mutant. On humans, there are no side effects, except successfully securing their bodies from passing any dormant mutation chromosomes onto their offspring. The effects on the mutants though will be devastatingly acute. Some will not be able to tolerate the vaccine, while others will change from the inside out into human. What's the sacrifice of a few mutants for the well being of the human race?"

A cold smile settled on his lips and Rogue no longer saw him as handsome. He was the ugliest thing she'd ever seen.

"And you, my dear, have been the sole reason for our success. Your body has allowed us to create the Judas vaccine. I must say that your time here has not been a waste." His hunger filled eyes skimmed her body.

"I've enjoyed every minute we've had together. I'm almost sad to see it come to an end." The lude way he said this was not lost on Rogue. This time when his hand moved back up to her face, she spat on him, all the repressed anger and hurt and fear for her race culminated in one. The doctor's face burned red with fury but quickly disappeared when he took out his crisp handkerchief to wipe off her saliva. Without looking her direction or giving her another thought, his hand moved to the table and lifted a vile of amber liquid. Rogue watched in disgusted fascination as he drained the fluid into a syringe.

"Don't worry, ROGUE. You won't remember a thing. Ever." And with the finality in his tone, he gripped her head by yanking her loose hair cruelly back. She grimaced in pain but that quickly disappeared when she saw his hand descend with the needle. Her hair was so tightly pulled she feared a sudden move would snap her neck in two. So she was left helpless as the needle pressed deeply into her temple, drilling until it tore into her brain.

Rogue was out cold in a matter of seconds.

---

On the other side of town at the same time, something entirely different was happening to the love of Rogue's life. It was about six months after Scott's death. Everyone in the mansion felt the oppressive weight in the loss of their beloved leader. Dr. Jean Grey was left like Logan, to mourn the passing of what could be termed, her soulmate. Xavier was left no choice but to afford the position to Logan, who deserved the responsibility immensely.

At first, Logan had refused it time and time again. His waking thoughts were agitated at the thought that it was his fault Scott Summers was dead. Similar to when his Rogue died, his thoughts were constantly filled with what ifs. Logan couldn't help but feel like a venomous poison to those that came in contact with him.

He had been up in Rogue's...his room thinking about her, and a bit about Scott, but mostly her. The ache in his chest still remained, but he was learning to move on. Sleep refused to come to him, so he decided to get out of bed and go to the kitchen to grab some warm milk. On his way to the kitchen, he spotted the dimmed lights in the library on, so he poked his head in to see who was awake at this ungodly hour. Though the person's back was to him, he could smell exactly who it was.

"What are you doing up, Jean?" He spoke in an almost whisper, but she released a startled gasp anyways. She tried wiping her fresh tears away from her face. She couldn't bring herself to face Logan's probing eyes, so she trained her attention on the blazing fire ahead of her.

Logan was by her side in no time. He sat close by, but still had a respectable amount of space between them. He gently put his hand on her back, willing her to turn his direction. She hesitated then turned around to look him square in the eyes. Her own were wet with unleashed tears.

Jean moved her lips, but nothing came out. She tried once more, asking a question that caused Logan to feel the lump build in his own throat.

"How did you do it, Logan?" she asked in her hushed voice.

He knew perfectly well what she was asking, but he didn't want to answer such a personal question. "Do what, Jean?" he asked innocently, his eyes breaking contact.

Jean blinked and looked at his profile. "How did you make the pain go away? How did you move on when she....Rogue died?"

Logan took a deep breath desperately trying to keep up his macho act, but it tattered away when the memories assaulted him. He turned his eyes back to meet hers. "It doesn't. I feel her every second of every day. And if you think I moved on, then I must have done a bang up job lying to everyone. And to myself."

Jean couldn't speak a word, so she just nodded and turned her gaze back to the fire. Logan frowned, and moved a few spaces closer to her on the couch. "Hey." He said waiting for her to answer. His hand moved to touch her, but she suddenly turned one-eighty and grabbed his face. Before he could protest, Jean lowered her lips to Logan's, effectively shutting him up.

Whether it was despair, loneliness, longing, desperation, or the need for human contact, Logan gave himself into that kiss. For just a second, he could pretend it was Rogue. He dear, sweet little Marie. All the hopelessness and tension released as his lips dueled with Jean's. He was brought back to reality when he felt Jean's tongue pry his mouth open massaging her tongue against his.

Logan broke away and panted hard. "Jean! You don't know what you're doing. You're grieving. I know it's been months since Scott passed on, but we can't do this! This isn't you!"

Jean shook her head almost viciously. "This IS me, Logan! I know we have a connection, I know you want this too. I can feel it in you. In here." Her hand moved to his heart. "I'm so tired of crying. I loved...love Scott, but my heart tells me to move on. I feel it when I'm with you, Logan. Can't you?" Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.

Confusion was running a marathon in his head. He kept thinking about Rogue, how he was betraying her. Then he kept thinking about how it felt good to be wanted, to have human contact again. To be able to touch flesh and blood. His heart raced as he forced himself into makeing a decision. Jean was right, maybe it was time to move on. He closed his eyes and thought, 'Rogue, I still love you.'

When he opened them, Jean was staring intently at him. He gave into his passion and surrendered himself to her.

---

Emmy Woodson was on her way home from a blowout party at Club Infinity. It was THE club in New York, people from all over came to dance there. It probably was a legend in the making, like Studio 54. She cursed aloud as she walked through the empty streets anger reddening her bronze features. Her friend had set her on a blind date and she thought he had potential when he first showed up. But now....she wanted to scratch his eyeballs out with her nails. The asshole decided he'd much rather screw the drunk blond on the dance floor, so he left with her. And the jerk left Emmy WITHOUT a ride home.

"Men!" She muttered under her breath. Emmy blew hot air into her gloved hands attempting to warm them from the biting winter air. She pulled the fur collar of her leopard print jacket more tightly around her neck. She heard a rustling just inside the dark alley causing her to jump almost a foot into the air. Emmy was about to run away when something behind the dumpster caught her attention. Not one to be a scaredy cat (at least not an admitted one) she ventured to see what it was.

A hand! Bile started climbing up her throat. Dead bodies around New York wasn't uncommon, but she'd never had the pleasure of seeing one before. As she turned to run away, the hand moved, placing its palm right on a filthy puddle of...something. Whoever this was was alive. Emmy still wanted to run, but the good Samaritan in her told her to march over to that dumpster and find out what was wrong.

Taking a very deep breath she released it, making a billow of fog form. Bit by bit, she inched her way over to the dumpster, grimacing as the acrid smell of rotting stuff drifted to her nose. Emmy couldn't help feeling like she had jumped into a horror flick like 'Scream' or something. She passed the dumpster a little and turned to get a better look at the body.

Her hand trembled nervously while reaching out to touch the body. The body moved! And Emmy jumped back, a shocked scream bouncing through the alley.

Emmy came to her senses and noticed that the body was a girl. And a naked one at that! This spurred Emmy into action.

She bent near the girl and tried to pull her from where she rested. The girl groaned in pain when Emmy rolled her over.

"You poor dear. You must be freezing! Didn't your mother ever tell you not to go prancing around naked during the winter? Summer's fine, but not winter!" Emmy managed to get the girl into a somewhat standing position. She still leaned against the dumpster for support. Her head just lolled limply from side to side. No response came from her.

'Oh dear,' Emmy thought. She looked at the girl trying to assess the damage, but other than a couple of abrasions and the fact that she was naked and stoned, the girl seemed all right. Emmy also noticed that the girl had long reddish/brown hair, with two parts of white on the front. 'Neat do.' Something glinted on the woman's breast. Emmy tried to grab at it without copping an accidental feel. She sighed in relief when she succeeded. Her eyes squinted in the dim light as she read the name on the tag.

"Wolverine!?" she nearly shouted. "What the hell kind of name is Wolverine?" Emmy looked at the other tag. 'Marie'. Now that's more like it.

Emmy took off her jacket and wrapped it around Marie.

"I know it's not much, Marie, but it'll have to do. I know it's a shitload better than being buck naked."

"Well, Marie. Looks like I've got a new roommate for the time being. Since I'm doing you this gigantic favor, you have to help out. Now put your arm around my neck like so..." When Emmy draped Marie's arm around her neck, it just slid off like a wet noodle.

Emmy groaned in frustration. "I guess it's true about what they say. When you want something done, you've got to do it yourself."

She pulled Marie away from the dumpster, holding her breath as best she could. Marie smelt no better than the dumpster had.

"Whew girl! That's it, I'm going to soak you until Jesus' second coming. And you'd better be awake by that time because I'm going to make you pay for the dry cleaning bills on these clothes."

With that, Emmy half walked, half dragged Marie all the way back to her apartment.

---

The harsh light shined in her eyes. She could feel them sticking needles all over her body. Her bones felt as if they were being ripped out one by one and replaced into the deflated skin from which they were taken. She whimpered because she could see her internal organs congealing. A man clothed in white pushed the hanging light more directly over her closed eyes. She couldn't move, but she was awake, so awake. And she could feel everything they were doing to her. Her head screamed and kicked when she heard a small metal saw roar with life. The doctor used the saw to slice into her shaved scalp....

"AHHHHHHHH!" Rogue jumped up from her reclined position, the scream piercing every crevice in the cramped apartment.

Reality settled back in and Rogue pushed away from the bed. She began panicking at the sight of the unfamiliar room. Her nimble hands sprung to her hair, her face, over the cotton pajamas she wore. Her mind raced with bewilderment, apprehension, fear, and curiosity all at the same time.

A very peculiar girl with hot pink hair rushed through the hallway, eyes suspiciously scanning and alert to any problem. She held a baseball bat in her hands and pointed it towards the invisible intruder. Her left hand roamed the wall for the light switch. When she found it the room became bathed in a soft yellow glow.

Emmy saw Rogue standing like a deer caught in headlights. The adrenaline in her body drained with relief that it was only Rogue. She placed the bat against the wall in the hallway and walked towards Rogue.

"Oh, Marie. Was that you making all that racket? You scared the living shit out of me! I thought some burglar broke in here."

Rogue's face squeezed with confusion. She felt so lost, more alone in the world than she remembered. She tried hard to remember anything, but her mind drew a complete blank. Not one memory came to the rescue. Rogue looked up in baffled terror.

"Excuse me, miss. Bu...but...who's Marie?" her southern accent thick as molasses.

---

After that night he kissed Jean, Logan took up the ritual he'd stopped doing after Scott died. Ever since he learned about where it was Rogue had been taken from and killed, he made it a nightly mission since then to walk there. To 'Club Infinity.' It was the last place she'd visited and he wanted to share it with her. He never went in of course because clubs just weren't his thing. He knew he was entirely too old to be spotted at a dance club, but this never wavered his devotion to make the journey every night. He would walk down these streets at the oddest hours of the night and stand by the lamppost he had seen in his dream.

When he'd close his eyes the vision would always play clearer than videotape. He could see her standing under this very streetlamp, unaware that she was being stalked. And every time, he'd see the black thief come from behind, grab her, and plunge that stinging needle into her neck. His heart plummeted every night. After Cyk died everything was so hectic. The X-Men ran around like a chicken with its head cut off. The Professor had remained stoically calm, as usual, but the pressure weighed on Logan to be the new leader. He didn't want it, he still didn't want it, but rationally he knew there was no one else to do the job. So he took Cyclops' place beside Storm when they were sent to do a mission.

A niggling pang of guilt shot through his heart at the thought of how irksome he was to the young guy. By this time, he was used to feeling guilt so he welcomed it. He felt it was punishment and repentance for the reason he was who he was.

Logan reflexively rubbed at his knuckles feeling the metal structure just beneath that thin layer of skin. Nights ago he'd had that encounter with Jean. He had something new to feel guilty about. Jean was Cyk's woman. Rogue was his. Just because both of them were gone, didn't mean he and Jean could go around and do things. So they were lonely, so they were frustrated, so they were angry, so what?

It had been almost two years since Rogue died, five years since he'd last seen her, and still she managed to stay rooted to his heart. He had feelings for Jean ever since the beginning. But those were physical attractions. Rogue was the one who truly caught his attention. She made the Wolverine want to settle down. She made him want to care. She made him love in a way he'd never known before. Up until he'd met Rogue, he'd been obsessed and angered about his lost identity. After her, it all seemed trivial. He no longer cared about the past. He wanted to care about the future. A future with her.

He knew that even if he didn't have that dire need to return that awful day, he would have returned sooner or later. That's what loving her had done to him. When she died, he became Wolverine again, but with a more compassionate side. She had changed him for the better.

Now after all this time, he felt like he was betraying her by allowing new feelings for Jean to come into play. Hell! He even felt like he was betraying Cyk. 'What a tangled web we weave. Indeed.'

So here he stood, at the back of 'Club Infinity' under the very spot his angel Marie had been taken from, mixed emotions tugging at his heart. The blaring music was muted through the closed doors. A chill had invaded the night air and leaked into Logan's bones.

He had to decide. Would he move on? Could he move on? Jean was a definite possibility. He could easily see himself marrying her. But what about Rogue? Would this be fair to Jean? Rogue? Cyk? Himself? He decided that he needed to give it a chance. And whatever happened from there would happen.

Logan shoved his gloved hands into the depths of his jacket pockets and walked away from the club, vanishing as quickly as he appeared.

---

1 Year Later

"Marie! Promise you'll come tonight! Club Infinity, meet me at the entrance at around midnight. Okay?" Emmy's brows knitted together imploring Rogue to take pity on the poor girl. Her short hair, which was now blue flopped against her head as she tugged on Rogue's hand. Tugging it as though it would make a world of difference in swaying her decision to go dancing.

"I promise, you'll have plenty of fun! You're with me, so how could you not?" She stood with her hips tilted to the side, hands on hips. It was almost as if her stance said, 'how in the world could you think otherwise?' Rogue cocked her head at her friend, and then gave her a lopsided smile.

"Fine." She drawled in her sweet accent. "I'll be there."

Emmy jumped up and down gloating with a huge smile that stretched from here to Timbuktu. The customers in the small diner looked at her annoyed so she stopped her happy dance. She coughed a little to hide her embarrassment from the glaring old couple at the booth across from her. She leaned across the counter opposite of Rogue and spoke conspiratorially.

"Oh yeah. Johnny-boy is going to be there. He told me specifically that he hopes you'll be there tonight. He has quite an impressive crush on you, seeing as how he's practically like a male whore!"

Rogue's brow jumped to her hairline. "I KNEW you had a hidden agenda!" Her pearly smile betrayed the stern agitation she was supposed to be projecting.

Emmy just smiled and leaned in to make air kisses against each of Rogue's cheeks. "Yeah, well. Too late now, you promised, Rogy!"

"Get outta here now! You're gonna get me fired, Em. Unlike you, I actually have a job to do." Emmy just waggled her blond brows at Rogue, her blue hair standing on end like she stuck her finger in an electric socket. Rogue just rolled her eyes as she watched her friend strut to the door, catching a few turned heads, her skirt sloshing from side to side exposing quite a scandalous view.

She took up the discarded dishrag and mopped up the splotches of dirt on the counter. Her thoughts drifted to the past year since Emmy found her. For the life of her, Rogue felt like a one year old because she couldn't remember anything beyond that point. She only knew what Emmy had told her. She was found stark naked beside a dumpster, filthy and smelly. She had nothing with her except the necklace around her neck, the same necklace which hung securely around her neck right now. It was tucked safely way under her blouse, the only link to her past. That night, when she awoke in Emmy's place, she'd been terrified, not only because she wasn't where she was supposed to be, but because she couldn't remember where she was supposed to be in the first place. Hell, she couldn't remember who SHE was then and she still couldn't now. It was all so damn frustrating to her. She didn't even know her name, so she took the only names she could think of, the names on the tags. So on that night, one year ago, she became Marie Wolverine.

She thought that after a year, she'd be closer to some kind of truth about her past. Here she stood long after and she still knew as much as the day she was found. Oh, she had flashbacks alright, but they were just pieces of a puzzle...a puzzle her mind refused to put together.

They usually came to her in her dreams. Some were nightmares that left her spirit broken and alone. Others were filled with love and longing and those were the ones that gave her hope. She didn't like thinking about those horrid nightmares, they were just too frightening to fathom, but the loving ones... They always had the same star player, a man. She could see his face so clearly.

He was such a beautiful man, quite older than she was. At first she thought he was her father, but when she had several fantasies involving him, that theory was quickly discarded. She had no idea of who he was or where he came from. It gave Rogue comfort to think that such a man could exist since her dreams always featured him. The man was unlike any she'd seen. Certainly not like the horny jocks that always tried to pick her up at work. He was dark, brooding, intense...his hair stuck up with two wayward points on each side of his face. She found it incredibly endearing since they looked like little German Shepherd ears. He had sideburns that went out of style a long time ago, but it suited him. His eyes were haunted, except when they focused on her. It was like a light had been rekindled when he was in her presence. She could see his robust body, curved in the most delicious ways. He looked perfectly toned, each muscle rippling as he walked.

One time, she had a dream or memory of this man locked in a cage, a wrestling cage, his back to her. She remembered the desire that flushed her body as she watched the muscles in his body pull taught from the strain. He stood waiting for his opponent to launch an attack and when he did, he was waiting alert and ready to strike.

That was just one example. Some would be tender and innocent, but the feeling left her aroused and ready for him. Some would feature him naked and aroused and excited for her. Always for her. Either way, whenever he filled her thoughts one thing remained the same: The security and love she felt when he was present. From what she gathered, if these were really memories, then he must have been integral in her life.

She had one flashback where she saw his hands unleash metal claws. She thought it was odd, but she'd seen mutants around, so it might not have been that odd. The thing is, most humans and mutants didn't intermingle, so why would she be having fantasies about a man who could possibly be a mutant?

It all seemed strange to her but she felt sad in her heart at the thought that she would never see this man if she couldn't remember. She prayed to God every night asking for a sign to point her in the right direction. She just hoped that she was a good enough girl in the past to be blessed with such a grace.

Before her thoughts could venture into more detail, the manager called her attention.

"Marie! Table 5!" the raspy voice shouted from the back, riddled with years of smoking tobacco.

"Alright!" Rogue shouted back. She grabbed a pad and pencil and started toward table five. Her thoughts of the past had been pushed back, while the dread of going clubbing with Emmy re-emerged. Whatever she had been through it was possible one thing hadn't changed. Obviously, she'd never been a fan of dancing or of clubs.

---

Rogue rushed to "Club Infinity", relieved to see Emmy standing up front next to the beefy bouncer. She was relieved they wouldn't have to stand in the line that was backed all the way down the block.

"Shit, Marie! Where've you been? Rocky here would only wait so long!" Emmy spouted the words, ticked off at her friend's tardiness.

"I'm sorry, Em! The old witch made me lock up tonight. Then I had to rush home, take a shower and dazzle up to meet your expectations. So? What do you think?" Her words spewed from her mouth and as she finished, she twirled in a small circle ready for Emmy's inspection.

Since she'd only been to 'Club Infinity' a few times before, she wanted to make an impression. Nearly all club goers were dressed to the hilt, making most celebrities look like yesterday's old newspaper. So she wore a tight black leather dress she bought last week. It was backless with a single tie that went around her neck. It did great things for her cleavage, and it's short length allowed for a great view of her legs. She even sprung for the clunky heels that went great with the outfit.

"Girl, you look killer. Are you trying to show me up?! Johnny-boy is going to die of blue balls before the night's out."

Both girls let out amused laughs and turned to walk into the crowded nightclub.

---

For the first part of the evening, Rogue had insisted on sitting out while her friends were out boogying to the techno beat. She had to admit that they looked like they were having a lot of fun. Emmy spiraled out of the dance floor intent on making Marie come with her. She barraged Marie's thoughts and demanded she come out to the dance floor. Or in Emmy's terms, "shake that groove thang."

Just as Rogue got up, the front door opened and closed again. She didn't know why that captured her attention so she shrugged off that nagging feeling and strutted to the dance floor, joining other dancers in some bump and grind.

---

Logan couldn't believe he was doing it again tonight. For the past week, he'd come strolling down to 'Club Infinity' to relive the past. He'd been married to Jean now for the last 8 months and was happy as could be expected. He thought he'd gotten passed all this. It's been almost three years since...since...he knew since what, but his mind wouldn't let him think it out loud. He'd dated Jean since that night after the kiss. That was the last trip he'd made until now.

It all happened so fast. One day he was mourning Rogue, then he was kissing Jean, then Jean popped the question. To him! 'Who'd a thunk that old Wolverine would get proposed to?' and all in all, though it was a bit rushed, he was happy. For the most part.

Then last Sunday night came and it reset an old pattern. He couldn't sleep that night no matter what he tried and so he'd gotten out of bed determined not to wake Jean. The first night she woke when he'd tripped over his pants, but he assured her that everything was okay and she could go back to sleep. He said that he just felt like taking a walk, but by then she had drifted to sleep.

So he'd put on his coat and made that trek down to this club and down memory lane. That first night was the hardest because old memories he thought were locked tight came flooding open when he stood under the streetlamp. He allowed himself to reopen those memories, almost relishing the feelings it brought him. Even if they were good or bad. Every night since then, he'd repeated the same routine. Before he and Jean became official, he made her swear not to pry into his head, no matter how tempted she was. He explained that it wasn't that he didn't trust her, but he wanted to keep those thoughts private. He made her swear that she wouldn't do things that he himself couldn't do, namely telepathy. He hoped to God she had kept her end of the bargain because he was starting to feel like an adulterer right about now.

By the time his mind had stopped thinking enough for him to take in his surroundings, he realized he had taken a different turn tonight. Instead of going to the back like he always did, he ended up in front. He could see the line still jam packed, people's feet getting tired standing and waiting before they could even use them on the dance floor. Poor pathetic fools. He was about to turn away when a scent stopped him. It was very faint but painfully familiar. 'Rogue?' His mind shook at the impossibility yet he'd know that smell anywhere. He walked up to the bouncer and demanded that he be let through.

"Hey man," the fat man in shades said, "You have to wait in line, just like everybody else. To the back!" Logan just didn't have patience for this. He almost used his claws as a way to gain him access, but he was pretty sure that was the one way they'd forbid him from entering. Instead, he pulled out his wallet and pulled two one-hundred dollar bills. He held the two bills between his index and middle finger, his head turned up toward the man in shades. At first, Logan thought the guy was going to refuse, but then his tubby fingers grabbed the bills and he pulled the door open, waiting for Logan to enter the energetic world of 'Club Infinity.'

---

The minute Logan entered the stuffy room he immediately regretted it. He had an inkling to turn around and walk out that door, but then it would have been a waste of two-hundred dollars. Something had pulled him in here and it was strong enough to make him shell out a shit load of money. Let's just say it was worth giving a look around the joint. He decided to sit at the bar and watch awhile. The bar was the closest to the door. Thankfully it was also the least crowded. He squished his way through the hoards of people dancing on the sidelines. As he tried passing through dancing couples, women would turn and rub their vulgar, sinfully drenched bodies against him. He got so annoyed shoving these vultures off to the side he could feel his claws just at the edge of his skin. Nope, it would do no good making a scene like that.

After he pushed the last girl out of his way, he collapsed onto the bar stool relieved at having escaped the maddening crowd. 'How can people find this fun?' he thought. The idea seemed absurd to him. Or maybe he was just too old. Logan liked the former rather than the latter. He stopped watching the jam-packed dance floor to turn to the bartender who just came up behind him.

"What can I get for ya, buddy?" The hefty man asked while drying a glass with a rag.

"A beer," was Logan's curt reply. The bartender went off to get his beer. Logan turned around once more to watch couples dance provocatively. He swore that in his day, whenever that was, you would be jailed for the moves half of these people were making. Among the hundreds of different smells that crawled up his nose, a different one became more distinct. The smell of the person he had come in this hell hole to find. It was the only clean, innocent smell among the filth of the trash that inhabited these kinds of places. Logan half stood from the stool, rolling his head around the crowds in order to get a better view.

That's when he saw her. At first he couldn't believe his eyes. His ears became muted to the pounding music instead exchanging it for the pounding of his own heart. He had only caught a glimpse but then he lost her. It was her. She'd come close enough for him to be able to pick her out. She was the needle in the haystack but he found her. Logan moved from his stool to go to her, but the bartender arrived with his beer.

The bartender, Larry, worked at 'Club Infinity' for the past ten years. This guy he was serving the beer to seemed a little out of place, but he couldn't pinpoint what gave him that thought. He saw the guy getting off his seat, but Larry interrupted his thoughts. He saw the direction the guy's gaze was pulled to. Larry nodded his head understanding perfectly well.

"Hey buddy." Logan broke his trance and briefly acknowledged the bartender then went back to the spot he was staring at. Larry continued, "A word of advice. I know you're lookin' at Red over there." Logan sprung a guilty look back at Larry.

"Howd'ya guess?" he asked in mock nonchalance.

"Same as how I know when I see every guy looking like that. Red doesn't come here often, but when she does, guys turn into intergalactic goo. Sure she's cute, but I've seen better..." Larry trailed off at Logan's lethal look. His hands went into the air in surrender. "Hey, sorry man. I'm just bein' honest. Like I said, a word of advice. Don't bother."

He now had Logan's full attention. "Guys from all walks of life try picking her up all the time. And one by one she shoots them down. It's a sad sight seeing those poor dogs. As far as I can tell, you don't look like her type at all." This warranted a cocked brow from Logan. "Sorry, but I call 'em as I see 'em. Just a warning, bud. And if she shoots you down too, don't say that I didn't warn ya." Then Larry went to tend to another customer at the other end of the bar.

Logan sipped thoughtfully on his beer. He finally had a clear view of her now. As if on cue, the crowd parted like Moses parted the Red Sea. He had to put his bottle down before he dropped it, he was so in awe.

His eyes were drawn to her face. Too many years had passed since he saw her. Six years too long. Much too many. Her hair was longer than he remembered, nearly touching the small of her back. It was wavy too. The white at the front was still there, hanging loosely over her shoulders. It moved with her lithe body. She turned so that her back was to him. He couldn't help the intake of breath that came. Her finely sculpted body was clad in leather. Not just any leather outfit, but one that showed off so much skin. He'd never seen her so revealing. He wondered at the lack of clothing. Wouldn't she hurt someone dressed like that? 'In more ways than one' his head mentally amended.

The leather dress itself was backless and from where Logan sat he was afforded a beautiful view of her shoulder blades and the smooth set of her spine. The skirt was so short and continued growing shorter as she danced, bunching up little by little. Her legs topped off the ensemble. The toned curve of her calves hardening with each twirl and shimmy she made.

He let his gaze settle on the whole picture. She moved as gracefully as a panther, her body slithering in the small space she had among the crowd. She danced as provocatively as the next person, but not once did she exude the idea of being cheap. Her eyes were closed as her hips swayed to the beat. Her elegant arms skimmed up her hips up to roam over her well developed breasts, playing with them. He felt like she was teasing him, like she knew he was stalking her every move. Her hands moved up to her hair tugging and pulling as her hips continued its swing to the beating sensation of the music. During one extremely energetic point in the music, Logan's eyes were glued to her as she shook her body all the way down, until she looked like she would end up humping the damn floor. He'd never envied something so much.

She continued that way as the dance beat went from one song to the next changing seamlessly. Logan just watched from his stool by the bar, the distance so close yet so far away.

However, his entertainment was about to be interrupted when a guy roughly Rogue's age pushed through the crowd and slid his body up to hers. It was at this point Logan could no longer sit by and watch. He got up from his seat and crossed the short distance to where she was, elbowing a few people in the process. Before he could reach her she had moved away from the guy leaving him alone and looking like the stupid ass he was. Logan cheered a little inside.

She was moving towards the middle of the dance floor and he knew he had to follow her. The density of the crowd thinned towards the middle and he felt a little relieved that she was now within touching distance. Rogue had continued the stimulating movement of her body, her hips once again swaying to the music. Her eyes were heavy lidded, the music making her drunk as her head hung low. She was hypnotized by the music and she let her body become a slave to it.

He could stand it no longer, so he pushed the final distance between the two of them then rounded to stand behind her. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as his mind battled with what he should do. If she could still shock the shit out of him, that was a risk he was willing to take.

Logan was no dancer, but it looked like he was about to learn. With that he closed the inches between them and pressed his hard body to hers.

---

Rogue could feel the guy behind her just stand there and watch. She didn't want to open her eyes, hoping he'd just take the hint and leave. She liked dancing alone, fewer pressures. Plus it was a time for her to let loose, to just feel, unwind after her hard day at work. She thought the guy was about to give up when suddenly she felt his muscled body attach itself to hers. At first she felt shocked, but as soon as she felt him make contact, a soothing peace ran through her. The simple contact between the two of them securing her emotions in ways she'd never felt before. So she permitted him to mould his shape into hers, their body heat becoming one of the same.

His large hands encircled her waist from behind tugging her to rest fully against him. She went willingly. She kept her eyes closed relishing the tingles that coursed through her body. Rogue placed her hands atop of his and grasped them firmly, wanting to keep them there forever. His hands stayed fanned out against the swell of her hips unsure of what to do. She rubbed her bottom against him, feeling him drink in her touch as she moved erotically with him. Together they moved in a dance that went far beyond an innocent tryst in a night club. It was as if two souls had become whole again. Rogue wanted more.

She could feel the heat radiating off of him, could feel the hardening bulge pressing into her back. The thought never scared her away. She shuddered with pleasure at the knowledge that she had caused the sweet torture she placed on him. She took her hands that stayed interlocked on top of his and with his hands in her palms she moved them with hers. Rogue made them follow hers, smoothing them over her leather bound hips, then pushed them down to her thighs, her hands acting as a guide.

She pulled her hands away from his and reached behind her, locking against his back effectively trapping him in her enchanting grasp. He made no complaints. As she moved his body with hers, his own hands came alive, setting their own course to study the outlines of her body. They moved up her stomach, skimmed her breasts with a feather light touch. Then began a descent down her body, memorizing each curve as it went. His hands passed her hips where before they had shyly stayed. Now they were possessed, intent on the need to go further. They passed her hips and moved to her open legs, her thighs wide open. He beckoned to touch the soft skin of her separated inner thighs. She could feel his hesitation so she replaced her hands on top of his and together they moved their hands to rub up and down the skin hidden by her skirt. As their hands continued their exploration, her head turned to the side. Her profile slid against his chest, the feel of his soft shirt gently caressing her face. She could smell the subtle cologne on him and she wanted it forever staining her own skin.

Rogue felt light-headed, intoxicated with the need to look at this man. She stilled their roaming hands and turned in his arms. They were close, oh so achingly close. The bulge pressing persistently into her stomach now. He exuded need just as much as she did. Her chin rose slightly her eyes remaining shut. She could feel his breath puffing on her face, cooling the pooling sweat. Dreamily, her eyes floated open looking directly into the intense black set which were trained solely on her.

Those eyes, those haunted beautiful eyes seemed so familiar. Her hand moved on its own volition driven with need to stroke the handsome face. Their eyes drilled into the others reading what lay behind the glassy stares. As her hand traced up the stubble of his chin to the cheekbones beneath his eyes, an overwhelming sensation of de ja vu emerged. Her eyes clamped shut as memories of this man's face flooded her.

This was him. The man in her dreams. She felt as though she were about to faint. Suddenly, feeling like a trapped animal, her past having caught up with her she did something she never thought she would do. Rogue shoved him away from her arms and bolted through the dancing crowd and out the door in the blink of an eye. It was irrational for her to run, but she felt as though being caught would return her to a past that was obviously too dreadful to remember.

She didn't notice the man follow her out the door and into the darkness.

---

Logan cursed as he followed Rogue down the street. "Fuck!" He had to think of someway to keep her from running. "Rogue!" the name flew out of his mouth but she kept running, not recognizing it at all. Panic struck Logan. Something besides the fact that she couldn't zap him anymore had changed. She couldn't remember him. She didn't recognize him. And maybe she just did at the last second and she thought he was going to harm her.

Logan watched as she ran in panic, terror and confusion wracking her panting lungs. He saw her heeled foot catch in the cracked cement causing her to stumble. She let out a hopeless cry hurrying to catch her balance and flee as far as her little feet could take her. He had to stop her. Somehow. As a last resort, he prayed it would work. "Marie!"

The name seemed to reach her because she slowed to a thoughtful stop. She stayed with her back to him, her breath panting erratically. She fought to calm down, but the cold air mingled with the adrenaline and shock she felt. It broke through her senses and she began shivering violently. Logan reared up to her noticing her coldness. He immediately shrugged off his own jacket and wrapped it around her shaking shoulders. He rubbed his hands against her arms, feeling the sting of her body's stiffness at his touch. Rogue at last calmed down and turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were melancholy and much too old for her young age of twenty-three years. Her lips trembled as she fought her internal struggle. Logan could see the battle in her eyes, the confusion as clear as day.

"How do you know me?" the reassuring twang in her voice ringing like a melodious bell in his ears. Compassion emanated from him, the necessity to protect and love her becoming evident. After all this time nothing within him had changed for her. It was still as obvious as the day she "died." Comprehending that he could touch her, but not having her recognize his touch seared through him. He didn't know whether to thank or kill the bastards who had done this to her. Whatever had happened to her or was unresolved between them would have to wait. She wasn't dead, she never was, and she may not remember him, but she was alive. That's all that was important.

She continued to stare at him. Lost, unsure of how she should be acting towards him. Secure in the knowledge that she wouldn't run, his voice rough with unknown emotion whispered, "That doesn't matter right now. We'll get you home and warmed up. Then we'll discuss the past." Conversation ended, they walked away in silence, each lost to their own thoughts.

---

Chaos interrupted the still night back at the mansion. Curious heads popped out doors, angered at being awoken at the ungodly hour. Anger flashed into shocked silence as each shook their head, wondering if they were caught in a dazed dream. But they weren't. Logan's urgent pounding at the door of Charles Xavier's bedroom was stilled as the old man pulled it open. The senior members of the X-Men had rounded the scene that unraveled. Oval eyes reflected the same suspicious wonder as mouths open and shut without words. Because all the people were witness to the next best miracle since Jesus. There stood a lost looking Rogue, her hand clasped in Logan's protective one. The next astonishing phenomenon was that Rogue was touching him without gloves or any sort of protection.

Charles' cool and collected exterior remained unmoved. One would find it hard to believe that he looked almost as if seeing a dead person rise from the dead were an everyday occurrence. He silenced the stunned chatter of all and sternly dismissed them away to bed. The Professor just looked once at Rogue and at Logan, then moved past them and down the hall. His mental gesture indicated all X-Men, former and recent to follow him to his office. His grim features hiding the ticking brain at work.

---

Jean tried to remain calm and unfeeling at seeing Logan huddled so close to Rogue. She tried to clamp down on the growing jealousy she felt at seeing him like that. She was his wife dammit. Not Rogue. The irrationality of what Jean was feeling melted into guilt at her selfish thoughts. She should be happy to see Rogue alive and well, instead of shedding mental claws at the other woman. Jean knew Logan loved his wife, but her mind supplied that he had loved this fully grown woman before he said he truly loved her. Exhausted by the mental anguish she was feeling, she bricked up her fragile emotions behind the stony mask she wore. All the while the nagging bitterness of Logan's returned past biting at her. She couldn't help the envy of having a lost love returned.

Charles broke any calculating headwork with his unperturbed voice. The serenity that flowed through his gentle, paternal words stilled any inner battles for the moment. He tried peering into Rogue's mind in order to decipher the situation that had been presented. His efforts were met with a cerebral wall blocking his well intended probing. Whoever or whatever had stopped her mutant powers also drilled a permanent shield into her. It was evident that whatever secrets they buried in her were going to continue impenetrable. He released a wary sigh determined to get to the bottom of this discovery.

The Professor organized his words before directing them at Rogue.

"Rogue. Rogue?" His words went unheard by the girl whose attention was settled on Logan. Logan nudged Rogue with his shoulder, directing her attention to the questioning older man. He was met with a blank gaze as empty as the shell of who this girl once was. Sadness spread into his entire body. Rogue didn't remember him or anybody, except for Logan. The manner displayed between the reunited people was a matter that would have to be dealt with some other time. And without his interference.

"My dear, what is your name?" Charles attempted his line of questioning once more. All faces in the room, including a very quiet Jean and the ever reserved Storm turned to Rogue.

Rogue, who had remained extremely quiet during the entire trip to and through this strange place, timidly faced the Professor, her gaze not altogether meeting his. The sweetly familiar tinkle of her southern belle voice floated through the air, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "My name is Marie, sir. Marie Wolverine." She said it with such innocence but the shock of the discovery didn't go unnoticed.

The Professor's face switched to Logan who held an equally disturbed façade at the mention of his name. Despite the tension frozen in his body, he was behaving extremely well. Extremely unlike...Logan. He redirected his attention to Rogue.

"How is it that you know what your name is but do not remember anything else, Marie?" The tranquil tone of his voice coerced the flustered girl into relating the whole story of her appearance. The two tags around her neck when she was discovered, how she took the names on those tags and made it her own. Emmy who discovered her in the first place, where she lived now, what she did for a living, all the events of the past year leading up to how Logan had found her. Rogue thought it wise to leave out the lurid details of their encounter, but told them she met him at the club. Charles didn't look at Logan as he heard the last part, but he could sense Jean Grey's mind explode at the details. Her eyes narrowed into darts, aimed at the target, which was Logan's head. Logan could feel the strained tension in the room, especially from his wife who was making it mentally clear what she thought of him at that moment.

After Rogue's discourse, the Professor felt it only right to explain her alter ego, her former life as Rogue, to her. He revealed only a skeletal outline knowing it would be too much to absorb in one night. The only real detail he refrained from telling her was her supposed death, the absurdity still ringing clear in the early mornings of the day. He only told her that she disappeared from the very club she was found in tonight. Irony at its best.

Everyone in the room felt the harsh weight of reality crashing down on their shoulders. The tired expressions revealed all. The Professor said, "It's quite late to figure out a solution at this point in time. Let's all retire to bed and we'll reconvene again in the morning, when we've all had a decent rest. Marie, Logan will show you to your old room."

Storm and the Professor were the first to leave the room, leaving the three others in a tense silence. Logan, truly noticing Jean for the very first time since this happened, went to her and grasped her shoulders tenderly in his hands.

"Please understand, Jean. I love you," were his quiet words, "but Marie needs me right now." He took her hand and kissed it, but she only returned his stare coolly, pulled her hand out of his touch. Without so much as a glance in his direction, she pushed past him nearly knocking him onto the floor.

Rogue heard his admission to Jean. For a reason unbeknownst to her, she felt a steely dislike of Jean Grey form in her. She tried to shake it off, but by then Logan had found his way to her, and taken her cold hands in his own. The ability to touch her was more than he could bear. Each little gesture culminated into something more, but for the life of him, despite his marital status, he couldn't stop touching her. The idea only added guilt and excitement to his already tumultuous mind.

"Come on, kid."

And he led her from the study back to her old stomping ground.

---

Rogue felt betrayal, sadness, happiness, confusion, curiosity, jealousy mixed into one tumor-filled mass. The knowledge of having the man she dreamed about day and night walking beside her in flesh and blood aroused such feelings within her. She now knew he wasn't available to her. Whatever they had been in the past was lost and wouldn't be regained. He was married. To the sexy doctor. The sexy doctor who would perform tests on her in the morning. Her face heated with the embarrassment of her illogical feelings. She tore her hand from Logan's, not being able to handle the implications. He only looked down at her, confused by her actions but proceeded with no questions asked. As they continued down the endless hall, Rogue couldn't help but feel like she was walking down a moving ramp with no destination or chance of ever stopping unless she jumped.

The silent pair exchanged frowning glances at each other when they thought the other wasn't looking. They finally reached the lone door at the end of the hall.

Rogue's room.

Rogue needed to escape the pressures of everything in and around her. She needed to escape from his penetrating stare. She needed to escape him. So she averted her body from him pushing the door in front of her open. She was about to flee inside when his gruff voice stopped her.

Rogue turned to face him, seeing his face had aged that night with the stress that had been placed on all of them. He looked as if he wanted to touch her again, but he clenched his fists to stop the temptation.

"Marie. I've missed you."

She didn't know how she should respond to that. She nodded instead and sought refuge in the dark room. The door shut with finality, locking Logan and the world from her.

---

In the morning, a knock awoke the lightly snoring Rogue. She staggered off the messy bed, dressed in nothing but her underwear. The night's events left her with nothing to wear but the leather dress she had on. Her head poked through the door, tousled hair of brown and white falling in her face. The intruder only looked at her with a cold distance, eying her bare body. Rouge followed the rude gaze and realized just how naked she really was. She sprang to the bed, snatching a thin sheet to cover her body.

Jean stepped into the doorway and informed her that after breakfast they would begin the tests. She also handed some clothes over to Rogue, who only stared in bewilderment.

"Their Ororo's. You're both about the same size. She wanted me to lend these to you since I was the one who was supposed to come and wake you. Tell me if they're okay. If they aren't, we'll go find something else to put you in, okay?" Both women knew where they stood when it came to Logan.

Jean's hard expression softened at the younger woman, the maternal instincts chipping away at the slight hint of what this girl had gone through in the last three years. She took Rogue's hand, amazement at this feat overtaking her senses. She pulled the woman into an embrace, saying, "I'm sorry for the way I've behaved towards you. Nothing that's happened is your fault. I'm so glad your back with us."

Tears clouded Rogue's vision. It had been years since she had such loving contact, from a family she no longer knew. She gave a watery smile to Jean and mumbled a "thank you." A new understanding between the women was born.

Jean exited the room to meet everyone else in the breakfast hall, leaving Rogue to change into Ororo's clothes and to console her aching heart.

---

"Okay, Rogue... I mean, Marie, the Professor and I will try to break down the internal force field that seems to be blocking us out. We'll need you to lie down and release all the tension in your body. Just concentrate on clearing your mind. Yes, that's it." Jean's hypnotic voice repeated words attempting to relax Rogue's rigid body. Rogue rested on the comfy sofa, her eyes closed in concentration. The good Professor and Jean were planning on using combined power to bulldoze the block in hopes to release Rogue's suppressed memories. Each held anxiety in their hearts praying to God that there would be no failure.

Jean already ran tests on Rogue in the earlier part of the morning, taking blood samples and x-rays. Several hours were needed to find anything conclusive in the reports. Hopefully this psychic session would prove to shed light on whatever those reports may have found.

Charles was the first to enter her mind. He closed his eyes in concentration and poked and prodded at what he could, trying to secure some connection between Rogue and himself. When he still couldn't get past the mental wall, he communicated to Jean, for her to come in and help him. Jean processed all attention on the girl on the sofa. She held her two forefingers, massaging her temple lobes, silently willing Rogue's mind to burst open like a floodgate. She could sense the mental block, refusing trespass to her and the Professor. Whoever created this block did one hell of a bang up job. Both telepaths used their abilities to the hilt, exhaustion slowly building up until they could no longer fight that infernal wall. The connection between the three people in the room was broken, hopelessness creeping back into their bones, as black and bleak as terminal cancer. They had tried their best and nothing came out of it. The only thing they could hope to do was repeat this session over the next few weeks. That was only if Rogue herself would be willing to stay with them for that long.

She had a life of her own now. Maybe she didn't want to find out about what was done to her. Maybe she just wanted to be left alone. Maybe she didn't want to come with Logan, back to her hidden past. She had her reasons and they could do nothing but help her as best as they could.

Rogue's eyes opened, hope that something had been found out, sitting in her doe eyed gaze. The man and the woman in the room with her didn't have to utter a word, their sad expressions telling her that they didn't succeed. The hope she had was snuffed out like a blown out candle and her head fell, tears threatening to spill over the gates of her soul.

Charles' look flittered to Jean, nodding his head in assent. Jean instantly went to Rogue's side, hugging her, rubbing some sense of hope into the girl with what she had to say. "Marie, we'll try it again. The first time isn't always going to work, but we'll do it again. Maybe with time, we'll be able to break down the defenses and find out what happened to you. Please, just don't give up."

Rogue shook her head slightly, the need to be alone overpowering her.

"Professor, you won't mind if I leave for now. I'd like to go home and see my roommate. She's probably a hysterical wreck right now, I just want to let her know something has come up and that I'll be away for awhile. And I need to get some clothes while I'm at it."

Charles gave his assent telling her that any of the cars were at her disposal.

"I want to walk home," was her only reply.

"But Rogue! That isn't for miles!" Jean interrupted.

Rogue gave them a reassuring smile, in it saying that she'd be back.

"I just need a walk...some time think...to be alone. I'll call if I need a ride back or if anything happens."

They could do nothing to convince her against it. They just let her walk out of the office and out the door, hoping she'd keep to her word that she'd be back.

---

On her way out the front entrance of the mansion, she was so lost in her thoughts she didn't see Logan springing up the steps. In a split second, they collided with each other, falling down the steps and onto the hard ground.

Logan fell with a solid 'thud', Rogue landing half on top of him. He held her in his arms, half smiling at her stunned face.

"Well, well, Rogue. I knew you always wanted my body, but really, did you literally have to throw yourself on me?" He asked with a smirk, the glint in his eyes not entirely humorous.

Rogue pushed on his chest, using it as leverage to stand upright.

"Ow!" Logan groaned at her usage of him.

Once she gained her equilibrium, she started down the path without an apology or any sort of conversation coming from her lips. Logan struggled to get up, running to catch up to her.

"Hey. Hey! Marie! Where are you going in such a hurry?" His countenance fixed with worry that she might be walking out of his life again.

She didn't even look at him. "Home."

Home? The cold answer chilled him to the bone. He couldn't let her leave again. He'd do anything he could to make her stay.

"Look, Marie. If I've said or done anything to hurt you..." He trailed off hoping she'd come to his rescue. The rigidity in his body threatened to loosen the control he had. He knew that any second now, his metal claws would come tearing out in his frustration.

Suddenly, Rogue stopped, freezing Logan to his spot. The bright sunshine of the day a deep contrast to the blackness in her hazel gaze. She had aged so much. No child, woman should be forced to look matured at the rate she did. Logan felt the tug in his heart, the crushing need to protect her erecting itself in his heart once more.

She refused to break their gaze, hoping, needing to see something...anything that laid in him. The need to know where they stood bubbled on the surface of her tongue, ready to spill out the question she was dying to ask. Seeing nothing but a pleading confusion, she turned her head and explained that she needed some time to think and that she was walking back to her city apartment to retrieve some clothes.

Rogue could see the relief roll off of him in waves.

"Why didn't you say so? Are you mad?! You're going to walk all the way back to the fucking city? Hell, no, not after what you've been through. I'm going with you, and we're taking the Jag."

Before she could protest, his firm hand grabbed hers and he dragged her to the garage. He put her in the passenger seat of the Jaguar, refusing any objection that spewed forth from her mouth. As the car sped down the road, Rogue's lips hardened into a mad pout. She was powerless to stop him from coming with her, when he was the one she was trying to run from.

---

Logan drove the car into the city following Rogue's, albeit angered, directions to her apartment. He couldn't help the rush of excitement at seeing where she lived, intruding into a part of her existence. He yearned to be closer to her. The thought that after all these years, she'd been so close, a twenty minute drive, from him.

His conscience repeatedly thumped on his head, asking about his wife, Jean. He felt the guilt biting on his conscience, but he kept trying to convince himself that it wasn't his fault that life had a funny way of doing things. It was fate when he found Rogue. He had found some inner peace at the knowledge that she was alive and well. He knew that he needed closure with Rogue, the what-ifs needed to be laid to rest. He knew he'd do anything, risk anything to find out if they were meant to be.

In the corner of his eye, he could see Rogue playing with the metal chain that hung around her porcelain skin. The chain with the tags that had given her her new name. A name with a part of his identity in it. His mind swelled with the idea he'd been in her life after all. Her hand ceased their fidgeting, dropping the chain with a metallic "clink." Logan continued watching from the corner of his eye, watching as the hand closest to him fell to a tight grip on her jean knee while she gazed out the window. Against better judgment, his hand released the steering wheel and collected her closest hand into a firm hold. In the depths of his mind her knew he was doing it more for his benefit than hers. He'd be damned if he told her though.

---

The drive came to an end as they pulled up to a series of compact apartment buildings. He paralleled the car, idly wondering if the Jaguar would be safe in this part of town. Rogue got out wordlessly and ran up the stairs to her apartment. She desperately hoped Emmy would be home because she left the club without her belongings. As her feet pounded up each step, she could hear the echoing of Logan's steps, tailing as close to hers as he could get.

They made their way to apartment 5D in continued silence. Rogue couldn't decide if was comfortable or not. She tapped the buzzer impatiently, willing Emmy to open the door and save her. She sighed in relief as the door swung open, revealing a very disheveled Emmy. Emmy's eyes bulged in relieved fury at the sight of her friend.

"God Rogy! Where the FUCK have you been? When I saw your stuff last night abandoned and you nowhere near it I had a fucking cow! I practically tore the goddamned place apart trying to find you. I was on the phone to the police but they spouted some fucking bullshit about having to wait a fucking twenty four hours to report someone missing. Shit! You will pay dearly for this." Emmy's finger pointed accusingly at Rogue.

Rogue smiled at the one consistent thing in her life. Whenever Emmy got mad or worried, she cussed her head off like there was no tomorrow.

Rogue pushed past the still fuming Emmy with a quiet Logan in tow. Emmy's rambling stopped short when she saw the handsome man enter the small apartment. Her jaw slackened in amazement and her knowing smirk was aimed at her friend.

"So THIS is why you didn't come home last night. Well, then. You should've just called." She winked at Rogue and whispered, "nice going. His butt looks great in jeans." Aloud, she announced that she was going to her room and they'd have all the privacy they needed. Rogue couldn't help the embarrassed crimson that flushed her face at her friend's badgering.

"Sorry about Emmy, Logan. And before you ask, yeah, she's always that exuberant."

"Yea, that and more." He scratched his head as he took a leisurely look around the apartment. It was a far cry from the mansion, but it was still home to her. He could imagine calling it home, himself, but he shut the gate before his thoughts could venture in that direction.

Rogue watched him watch the apartment. His eyes connected with hers, that silent communication thing working between them. She felt the tremendous desire to ask that question that nagged her. Rogue also felt something else.

She huffed a frustrated exhalation and stalked towards the bedroom door at the end of the hall. Rogue grabbed the knob and slammed the inch the door was opened, shut. In the process, she nearly chopped off Emmy's nose with the fury of the slam. From inside the room, she heard a loud, "I get the point!"

Satisfied her friend would no longer be spying, she returned to the living area. The role of hostess came into play.

"Do you want anything to drink?"

Logan's face was caught in a bemused grin at the obtrusiveness of her friend's snooping.

"Not the kind you're offering. And no, nothing for me."

Rogue cleared the dirty clothes scattered on the tattered couch and lowered herself into the small clearing. Logan remained standing, watching her with morbid curiosity. The time had come. They were alone and she needed to know, for the sake of her sanity and of her heart.

"Logan...I don't even know where to begin asking this. But last night....there...there was something...." She could kill herself for being so uncollected. The stuttering added, to her southern lilt made it blatantly obvious as to how nervous she was.

He saved her from her own stupidity. "You want to know what our history was. Where we stood before you left."

Her head unconsciously nodded its assent.

From his standing position, he made the transition into pacing. "I...Marie...Rogue, there was so much between us. We had a past, you know?" He stopped his annoying pacing, much to Rogue's relief, and sat next to her on the couch. She almost wished he would go back to pacing instead of being at such a close proximity to her.

"I had a past with you that was unlike anyone else. We went through hell together. I'd go through hell again for you. I'd never change the past. You know what the Professor told you, but he didn't tell you about how we met. You were just a young teenage girl then. I picked you up at some bar in Canada and even at that moment, I could feel the connection between us. After the ordeal of the events, I had to leave. I had to leave you for reasons that are even unknown to me. I used the excuse that I needed to find my past." He stopped his speech and held a tender hand up to her face. He cradled her in his grasp, getting lost in his own thoughts.

"It's funny, you know? I was you, a no name person without a past. A past I was desperately trying to seek. Now you have taken up my role, you've become me, Marie. But I won't let you. I won't let you stay lost. What I feel for you, I haven't felt ever." He didn't have to finish that last thought. He never felt it with Jean. Guilty happiness surged within Rogue. A new tension bombarded their quiet peace as he inched his face closer to hers. Rogue wished for it and dreaded it at the same time. No, this wasn't right. He was married for heaven's sake! She turned her head and sat up getting off the couch. Logan understood. He knew exactly what she was feeling herself. That didn't mean he could throw away everything he felt for her.

He let her leave the cramped living room to seek refuge in her own, away from him. Without complaint, he let her go pack her bags. He'd wait for her until she was ready.

---

Rogue let Emmy know where she would be staying, offering a vague explanation as to why she was leaving. The pair clambered down the flights of stairs, the confrontation between them earlier that day burned into their brains. Logan arrived at the car first, holding her door open for her. Once she climbed in, he went to the back and placed her bags in the trunk then got behind the steering wheel ready to return home.

Neither one noticed the black unmarked vehicle following their trail home.

Small chitchat took place between Logan and Rogue. Each was determined to get past the horrible discomfort wedged between them. If they were going to have a future together, even as friends, they'd have to let go of the past.

Just as Logan was about to ask Rogue a question, the distinct squeal of tires screamed from behind them. The crazy black sedan screeched up to where they were, zipping in and out of traffic intent on hitting its target. The car skidded and rammed the Jaguar in the side, the jolt of it practically unseen. Logan screamed for Rogue to get down as he fought to regain control of the steering wheel. A trail of profanity soared from his mouth to Rogue's hearing. The black sedan continued its assault on the Jaguar, ramming into it as it could, determined to drive it off the road. Bystanders watched in horrid fascination as the scene continued to play. A sharp jolt burned through Rogue's left hand, excruciating pain radiating from her palm. She yelled in pain the throbbing becoming too much for her.

The pain from her hand seemed to communicate something to her brain, little electric shots electrocuting her as they traveled through her blood stream and into her frantic mind.

'You are too close. We are watching. Remember that. We are always watching.'

Her eyes shot wide open as soon as the thought appeared. Intense fear made her blood run cold as the searing pain bloodied her insides. She passed out into a dead faint.

"Rogue! Rogue?!" Logan's heart threatened to burst from his chest when he saw Rogue faint, but he couldn't find any blood or injury on her. The black sedan knocked him each time he had gotten control of the car. With a final side swap, the sedan was successful in making the Jaguar spin off the road. Logan's stomach plummeted as he saw the large lamppost coming towards them. He heard the harsh impact of screeching metal, and was dimly aware that they'd run into it on Rogue's side. That was his final thought before he succumbed to the beckoning darkness.

---

BACK AT THE MANSION

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was impossible. They were dealing with something far beyond their control.

Jean pulled the sheets from the printer and rushed to the Professor.

"Professor, those reports on Rogue have come in. This is something I've never seen before." She sat down next to him and showed him a series of charts explaining as she rambled on.

"See here, this is Rogue's internal data before she disappeared. She has the DNA common in causing the mutation effectively triggering her mutant powers. As you can see, she was a normal healthy mutant. Now here's the recent lab reports."

Charles took several looks at the data on the paper presented to him. His eyes immediately returned to Jean. "It can't be." He said.

Jean's head shook, her voice tremulous. "I'm afraid it is. It seems, from what I can tell, whoever abducted Rogue did extensive work on her body. I'm guessing nearly all the time she was missing. Professor, whatever procedures were taken in making this sort of thing happen...the idea is unthinkable." Her words trailed off at the implication.

The Professor finished her thought. "Whoever did this, it looks as if they took her DNA and rewrote it one by one, slowly gestating her into a fully functioning human being. With no trace of her mutation in her."

Jean nodded, "If they've done this to someone as powerful as Rogue, then imagine what they could do to less powerful mutants." They both shuddered at the thought of being stripped of whom they've lived with being. Mutants.

"Maybe, it's what they have in mind." Charles' grim reply echoed in the spacious office.

They remained silent for a few moments, and then Jean remembered the other detail she found. "Professor, there's something else. While looking over Rogue's x-ray scan, I noticed something in her hand. These men didn't mean for Rogue to be released into society without being watched. She must be their first successful Patient X. I found what looks like a small metal plated computer chip embedded in the palm of her left hand. A tracking device. She's being tracked this very moment, her every movement recorded. Oh God. If they know she's found us, what will they do?"

The Professor remained silent processing all the information into his head. He was interrupted with a loud growl outside his office door.

The door split open by an enraged Logan, carrying a limp Rogue in his arms. His head was matted with caked blood, from a wound that already healed. Rogue however, was another matter. She was bleeding profusely, abrasions from glass and metal fragments incised in her skin. She looked like a severely tattered rag doll.

Pushing all personal feelings aside, Jean rushed past her growling husband, demanding for him to follow her down to the infirmary. Once there, Jean set to work on Rogue, fighting hard to stabilize the woman. Logan sat outside, a maelstrom of turmoil attacking him from every which way that he had not been able to protect Rogue. Again. He buried his head in his hands desperately waiting for any news.

Jean hooked Rogue to a heart monitor and a series of wires. She made sure the IV was in place then left the room in search of her husband.

Logan looked up as soon as he heard the metal door slam shut. He watched as Jean made his way to him, bearing a first aid kit in her skilled physician's hands. She knelt in front of him placing the plastic box on the floor.

"Logan, I know what happened. Despite the promise I made you, I had to search you to seek the truth." His horrified look said it all.

"I'm not mad. That's not true, at first I was, but I know you love me." She quieted as she took the alcohol and cleaned the blood off of his face. After that was finished, she sat on the chair next to him. There wasn't much use for her when a man like the Wolverine could heal broken body parts and missing organs in the blink of an eye.

She grasped his hand the coolness of it comforting to Logan. She looked him in the face and said everything with resigned calmness.

"I know you still love her. I can't say I'm not surprised. There's so much unsaid between the two of you, so much that was left unsaid. You were forced apart and our marriage took place during a desperate time. For the both of us. I love you, Logan. Nothing has changed that. And I know, I can see you love me too. I think the best thing for us right now is to decide where you stand. I understand you and no matter what happens, I'll support any decision you make. Know that."

A sad smile curved on Logan's lips. "I know, Jean." He closed his eyes and leaned into her, placing his lips on top of hers. Jean almost lost herself at the sensation. She pulled away before she lost her resolve.

He reaffirmed his beliefs. "I don't deserve you."

Jean cocked her head to the side and a lopsided grin graced her features. "That's true. But I can't say that I wouldn't do the same thing if I were in your shoes." He knew she was referring to ol' One Eye. A genuine smile beamed as he studied her retreating figure.

---

For days after the collision, Logan sat by Rogue's side, unerring in his decision to be with her. Fatigue drooped his eyelids shut, his head falling to rest on his chest. It had been days since he'd last slept or eaten for that matter. He had been unwilling to leave her side and now he was paying the consequences.

A gentle hand grasped his shoulders alerting him to his surroundings.

Ororo's smiling face looked down on him. Her quiet calm soothed his sorrow and the words she uttered were the only ones that could convince him to do what they wanted.

"Logan, you must get some rest. I'll be watching her. Don't worry, I doubt she'll be going anywhere."

Logan gave Ororo a grateful smile. With a final look to Rogue's sleeping form, he trudged down the hall to find rest in his room.

---

In the dark recesses of her mind, Rogue knew of one goal. To leave. During the accident, or more likely, after while she lay paralyzed, all her memories flooded her. Overloading her entire system. It was probably the reason she had lain in the coma-like state for as long as she did. She remembered everything: the horrible tests the doctors ran on her, the despair of never seeing Logan again, the time they first met, the time she first came to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, the love she felt for Logan, Logan's marriage to Jean, everything climbed back into her head. It was as if a light switch had been flicked back on. Relief fell through her but was quickly dispersed at the comprehension that her presence here placed deadly danger on anyone in this school. The crash had been proof of that and that had only been a warning. She shuddered to think what damage they would do if she stayed. And now, with the memory of everything coming back to her, she tripled the danger. She had to leave. Immediately.

Rogue felt someone's presence in the room. After what seemed like an eternity she heard the person get up and leave the room. She thanked God for her run of luck. Her eyes cracked open, vision blurry from the disuse. She watched Ororo's white hair flap behind her as she left the room. Rogue saw her through the window, heading in what was most likely the direction of her room. Probably to retrieve something. That left Rogue very little time.

She sat up in the bed, her hair tumbling around her. A strong sense of De Ja Vu hitting the back of her neck with spine tingling coldness. She ripped the wires from her, pulled needles from her not caring as she spilled blood onto the pristine white sheets. She winced when she swung her legs over the bed. Her hands clutched around her injured stomach, the after effects of the accident still throbbing. Her bare feet hit the freezing tiled floor. As she ran out the room, her hand palmed a scalpel off the tray to her right.

Rogue's head peered through the little glass in the door to make sure no one would see her leave. She made a run for it, trying to make as little noise as she could. She ran all the way to the sanctity of her room, knowing Ororo would be back at any time.

She pushed the door quietly closed and dashed to the dresser. Once again, she thanked God at the sight of her clothes, stacked neatly on the top of the mahogany armoire. Someone had managed to salvage her clothes from the wreck. The thin paper hospital gown was thrown to the floor. Rogue slid on the panties she found and some khaki pants and a white shirt. She didn't bother with the bra since it would only waste time to put on. She took the remainder of her clothes and shoved them into the duffel bag.

Rogue went into the bathroom and flicked on the illuminating glow of the light. She took the scalpel she had stolen and looked at her left palm. She remembered all too well where the damned thing was, the pain it had caused her. No more. She wouldn't be prisoner to their games. Before she lost her nerve, she dug the sharp edge of the scalpel into her palm, crying out as blood flowed down the sink. She twisted it, trying to pry the metal chip from the hidden prison of her skin. Once she had gone deep enough, she saw the bloodied glint of the chip and she pulled it out.

Rogue threw the scalpel into the sink and turned the faucet on. Hot water washed the blood away, leaving the little hole in her hand fresh and tender. She watched as the red water ran clear, flushing her blood and the little chip down the pipes and into the sewer.

She grabbed a clean hand towel and walked to where her bag was. As she picked up the bag, a metal object drifted to the ground. Rogue stooped to look at what it was. Her tags. With a swift move of her uninjured hand, she yanked the tags and placed them over her head. No sound was made as she ran through the house and out the door.

---

Logan drifted awake, no longer able to sleep. He was too consumed with worry for Rogue. For what had happened, how he had come close to losing her, how he always seemed to bring harm her way. His mind incessantly gnawed at him until at last, he gave up and sat rigidly on his bed. He had on his white tank top and sweat pants, but he felt hot from the sweat collecting on his body. He was half tempted to strut around naked.

Ever since his confrontation with Jean, he thought it best to move to a new room. So he sat alone, ears alert to any sound that came from outside. It wasn't long before he smelled the oh so familiar smell. The smell that only belonged to one person. Rogue.

His head racked with all kinds of thoughts, at how he'd like to skin Ororo alive if he found Rogue roaming the halls. He stood up from the bed and rushed to the door. Logan opened the door in time to see Rogue running through the hallway and out the front door. Damn. He'd ask questions later, but right now, he had a ghost to hunt.

He slipped his feet into his shoes and raced down the path to follow Rogue. He remained inconspicuous, silently stalking her in the still of the night. Crickets chirped and the air around him was alive. He followed Rogue, wondering if she even knew where she was going.

The step in her race down the path seemed so assured. These were familiar to her. His heart pounded with the thought. They passed through the silent forest and he stilled when he saw the clearing come in view. It was a beautiful view of the ocean, the moon doing all sorts of things to add to the beauty of the night. Logan had to stifle his awe in fear that Rogue would run away at the discovery of him.

He watched as she sat down on a weathered rock, looking out onto the vast sea as it sparkled in the moon light. He was entranced at the way the moon only added to the pallor of her skin, the way her array of colored hair danced with the gentle breeze. Logan leaned his head against a neighboring tree, content to watch her for the duration of the night.

He was startled out of his reverie when her voice pierced the silent night.

"I remember, Logan."

---

"You knew I was here?" He had to ask.

She broke her gaze of the sea and turned around to peer at him through squinty eyes.

"Yeah, I knew." He didn't bother asking. The point that she knew was enough.

He released his grasp on the tree he leaned on for support and started toward her when she faced the sea once more. Her words continued without her looking at him. Logan moved to her side, resting on the floor next to the rock Rogue sat on.

"I remember everything Logan." Her tears flowed down her cheeks, the horrors of her memory attacking her senses and battering the already frayed state she was in. It was as if the heavy weight of remembering hurled her to the ground, onto her knees directly in front of Logan. The emotions ran through his fingertips and down his spine as he pulled her into his loving embrace.

He kissed the side of her head, the sobs wracking through her small body. After some time, she calmed, but he resumed his hold on her, not wanting to let her go. As they sat gazing in the moonlight in each other's arms, she recounted everything that had happened to her while she was away. He shivered when she told him about the sterile hospital she was prisoner in, the memory of all the excruciating pain she was subjected to, the evil doctor who conducted those tests, the hopelessness at never seeing him again, her loneliness. He figured out that somehow those godless people were able to clone Rogue's DNA and create a body identical to Rogue. That's how everyone was so easily deceived by the body they had laid to rest. It had been Rogue but it hadn't been.

Everything came out in one story. He held her hand as she explained the metal chip they placed in her body, how the crash correlated with this entire charade. He kissed her palm as she explained how she had to gouge out her skin in order to break free from their grasps.

He felt the need to kill someone for what was done to her. He wanted to take his alloy claws and rip those people to shreds. He wanted to bask in the glory of returning the pain they caused her. He wanted to bathe in their blood, the victory he had over their treachery. But he knew he'd have no such victory. So he just held Rogue more tightly against him.

When silence grew between them, Rogue shifted in his arms and knelt between his spread legs. The stillness shook with the lightning intensity that filled the air. The depths of her brown orbs bore into his; her hair rumpled shining in the illumination of the moon. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

Logan sat up, leaning his weight towards her. He could see that she was holding her breath, her eyes shut in anticipation of his next move. He placed his large hands on her waist, every muscle in his body taut, straining to be united with her. He leaned in closer, closer, until he felt her shallow puffs of air on his face. He welcomed it, cherished it, was rejuvenated by it. She wanted this, wanted him. He closed the small distance between her cupid bow lips and his own, eyes melding shut as he made contact. Logan rejoiced in the gift of having heightened senses because he could feel Rogue everywhere. His lips moved in silence against hers, teeth brushing her swollen lips. He pulled slightly away, their lips eliciting a small 'smack' at the removal.

Logan pressed his body more firmly against hers, his muscles rippling with the action. He could feel the hardened nipples of her breasts rubbing against his own. This served only to excite him more. His arms slithered around her body and wrapped themselves around her waist, needing to be as close to her as he could get. He kissed her chin, her soft cheeks, her closed eyelids, the top of her head, the tip of her nose, every aspect her face had. He returned his questing lips to hers, this time aching to taste the inside of her mouth. His mouth opened as his questioning tongue lightly licked over the crease of her own closed mouth. He begged entrance, begged to be allowed to make sweet love with her tongue. She sighed as she gave him entrance, feeling his tongue rendezvous with hers, the taste of him tingling her senses, shooting waves of desire to her nether regions. Logan's mouth continued its assault, bruising and soothing as it went. His teeth skimmed hers while his tongue stroked her equally probing one. He reached into the farthest recesses he could reach, memorizing each crevice on his journey.

Rogue pulled away and opened her eyes, shyly gazing at him as she pushed his chest, telling him to lie down on the grassy ground. He denied her nothing. His toned back hit the ground, eased as Rogue straddled his hard stomach. He watched her sitting on top of him, the hardness of his penis tenting his pants, poking incessantly into her little butt. Her gaze was curious as her hands explored his tank top covered chest, running them over his nipples, which hardened at her touch. He fought the urge to move his hips instead concentrating on her ministrations and how beautiful she looked in the moonlight.

She started pulling at his shirt, demanding that he take it off. He threw the shirt off without a care as to where it landed. Logan flushed in excitement watching her silent exploration of his body. She bent over and kissed him square on the lips, trailing down his six-pack, hands scaling the hardened curves of his muscular arms. She roamed her way down to the edge of his sweats, looking up at him with desire-laden eyes. He knew what she planned and he wanted to stop her, but she would have none of that.

Rogue pulled the heavy material of his sweats down his legs and away from where they reclined. She moved to kneel in between his naked body, smoothing her hand up and down his inner thighs, stroking the hair that grew there. Logan watched her intently, not wanting to miss a thing. He held his breath but quickly dispelled it when he felt her silky touch on his straining heat. His hips involuntarily jumped at the contact and his eyes clamped shut. It had been too long. Too long waiting for her touch.

His heartbeat quickened its pace when he felt her strawberry mousse mouth enclose over his erect penis. She took him all the way in her mouth, sucking and stroking, using that talented little tongue of hers to elicit groans and moans from the man writhing beneath her touch. Logan had to stop this because he felt the hot flash of an orgasm coming. His hands sought the sleek brush of her hair as it tickled his inner thighs with each of her ministrations. He stopped her moving head and her blessedly moving mouth, his eyes pleading with her to stop, begging her to understand he wanted to come with her.

She just sat and stared at him, fully understanding. Her tongue swiped out and licked the musky taste of him into her mouth. He was fascinated with the redness of her lips, wanting to taste her and him. Logan pounced on her sending both of them sailing to the soft ground. He looked her straight in the eyes and stated the obvious.

"You're wearing too many clothes." To which the light tinkle of her laugh resounded in the still air.

Before they went any further, she stroked his face, telling him, "That entire time you were gone, I came here to seek refuge. To think of you. I came here everyday, Logan, wanting to be a little closer to you. It looks like I got my wish."

He refused to let the tears prickle his eyes. He kissed her lips instead, his tongue once again taking up its exploration. He moved his lips to her neck, gently nipping at the delicate skin there. He kissed her neck, running his heated lips up and down her lean neck, his hands busy with ripping her clothes off her sweaty body. He unbuttoned the khaki colored jeans and pulled them down, watching as the material scraped the fragility of her skin.

Logan marveled at the expanse of creamy white that revealed itself to him. He needed to taste her skin, to imprint it into his brain. He bent down, kissing her ankles, running his tongue up her calves until he reached the junction where her legs met. He could smell her strong, musky scent invading his nose. He wanted more. He bent her knees into position, spreading them far apart to reveal what lay behind the moist brown curls. His eyes flickered to hers and he licked his lips in anticipation.

She couldn't wrench her eyes from him, the sight of seeing him go down on her pulsating through her, adding a little bit more to the intense desire he sent through her body.

Rogue felt his tongue penetrate her, the slimy coolness of that loving tongue, lapping at her juices like a newborn kitten. A loud cry tore from her lips at the contact. He stroked her with his tongue, in and out, in and out, driving her that much more closely to madness. Her hands grasped onto his hair as her chest heaved, seeing the white spots appear behind her eyes. She thought she was going to come when she felt the loss of his hot mouth on her. His body slid up hers, kissing any skin he touched. He kissed each of her breasts, playing with them, pulling her nipples, and squeezing them, watching her every action as he tortured her more and more. He was amazed as her head thrashed from side to side, her hands gripping and clutching at the grass she pulled.

Logan placed each hand on either side of her face, his own control rolling away. He held his body weight up, each muscle tight with need to be released. He held down the urge to jerk his hips, waiting until she looked up at him. He wanted to see her eyes when his hard, swollen member entered her.

Feeling his gaze on her, Rogue looked up at her lover. He gave her a soft kiss as he entered her, slowly, slowly inching more and more until....Logan's eyes shot to hers when he felt his penis bump against that wall. He began pulling out, stuttering at his discovery, but Rogue stilled his movements by clutching her hands to his rounded, sweaty ass.

Every kind of emotion filled him, intense love, desire, need, everything as he asked her, "Why?" The silent question, why hadn't she been with anyone since she could touch, since she'd lived on her own.

Rogue only looked at him as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. "I was waiting for you." Came her quiet reply.

They watched each other's eyes as he resumed his penetration inside her tight, hot core. With a firm thrust, he broke the barrier between them, stifling her pained gasp with a brush of his moist lips on hers. At first, he just held himself that way, imbedded in her, relishing the feel of his cock in her narrow grasp. Holding became not enough and he slowly rocked inside of her. He pulled out and thrust deeply into her, each thrust pulling him and her closer to that sought for edge. He watched her eyes shut, feeling her orgasm on the verge as her inner muscles began tightening around him. Logan wanted them to share this moment. His hand slid in between them and with a few flicks of his fingers on her swollen clit, she came hard, the loud scream of his name on her lips. As soon as he felt her inner walls clamp down on his penis, he too flew over that edge, seeing the tiny spots dance around his tightly shut eyes.

His orgasm washed in large waves around him, but he had enough sense to roll to the side so as not to crush her with his heavy, sweaty weight. He pulled her perspiring, panting body onto his, her hand wrapping around his stomach. Logan looked into her eyes and kissed her one last time before giving into a dreamless sleep.

---

Logan felt the caress of the morning sun on his face. His eyes blinked open, remembering where he was. He rolled over and laid his arm against the spot where Rogue was.

He straightened when he didn't feel anything where Rogue should have been. He almost thought it was a dream, but he was naked and his clothes lay strewn against patches of the grass. It hadn't been a dream.

His head glanced around trying to figure out where she had gone off to, when he noticed that none of her things were there. The constriction in his heart ached with pain when he saw an envelope with his name on it, sitting against the rock where he found her the night before. Logan couldn't bring himself to reading it yet, so he took on the task of redressing his aching body. Finally, after he tugged on his sweat pants, he lifted the envelope with the curvy handwriting on it and sat where it once was. He placed the paper on his lap, just staring at it, remembering, cherishing, reliving the night he made love to Rogue. He brought his hands to his face and scrubbed vigorously, mentally preparing himself for what the letter contained.

The anticipation sat heavily in the pits of his stomach and he could no longer wait. He unsheathed one claw and used it as a letter opener, tearing into it to retrieve the letter.

He took a deep breath and began, almost hearing her accent reading along with him.

"Dear Logan,

I know this is probably the cruelest thing to wake up to in the morning. I didn't expect last night to happen, I didn't even expect what's happened all these years to happen, but I guess that's what life's all about. Learning to expect the unexpected. I spent the three years before I disappeared sitting on the very rock you're sitting on, dreaming of you, never dreaming you'd actually feel the same way about me. I knew I loved you the day I saw you. Six years have passed now. Even when I'd forgotten everything, that love never deterred but grew with time. I knew you cared for me, but I didn't know to what degree, so it was my heart and my heart alone I was risking in waiting for your return. You're probably questioning why I left, after what we shared last night. I had to leave. My presence is only a hindrance on all of you now that I'm no longer a mutant and no longer useful. I'm also endangering your lives by staying with you. I will not be the cause of the destruction of the only people I love and especially not you. Please continue your life with Jean, do not seek me out. You can have a life with her that you'd never have with me. I'm only damaged goods. I have my reasons for leaving. These men who destroyed me are trying to destroy the lives of all mutants, slowly they'll turn each one into a human, just as they've done to me. I'm essential to their project and am probably a fugitive. Like I said before, I will not place any of you in danger. I love you too much. Just watch out for the future and be prepared. You were right, my love. I have become you. I have finally found my path and I must journey it alone. I must discover the truth that they've taken from me. If I can help save the lives of mutants than I have to try, even if it means to die trying. I've waited my whole life for you. And I am thankful that I have been given the chance to be totally with you even if it was for only one night. I would never trade our single night of lovemaking for anything in the world. I just know that on my journey, I will always cherish that I'd rather share one glorious night with you than a lifetime without you. Take care, darling.

Love,
Your little Marie
AKA Rogue

P.S. Look in the envelope.

Despite the sorrow Logan felt, he had to smile at how well Rogue knew him. He would be the one to overlook such a thing. He peered into the envelope and in the corner lay nestled the chain with both his and her tag. Marie Wolverine. He pulled the chain from its resting place and put it around his own neck, imagining that not too long ago, she herself had worn these. He could smell her lingering scent in the air.

Logan watched the rising sun as it continued it's assent in the morning dew. Yes, he would go on in life. A life with Jean. A life without Rogue. But these tags were a promise. She would be back one day, and he would be ready, keeping them safe until she was back in his arms. Yes, he would continue on with this thing called life and forever have the image of a beautiful, passionate woman named Rogue, cradled in the depths of his heart where she would always be protected.

With that, a tiny smile rose on his stubbled face, shining in the bright morning of the day.