No one could say I didn't try. I did. I did everything from dating Bobby to battling him in my head to spending truly unhealthy amounts of time around Jean. But, towards the end of my senior year, just before graduation I had to reconcile myself to the fact that I would never completely disentangle myself from Logan.

I didn't give our bond or my 'attachment' to him (as Jean and the professor called it) because giving something a name only gives it power. When it became clear that he didn't want me, that it was Jean he still thought of, I only comforted myself with the hope that the pain would be dulled in time.

I can't say I hoped for this through experience. The pain wasn't always center in my mind, but it didn't fade. It was like I was bleeding on the inside, but could never die and never admit to it. So, naturally, the pain was something I got used to, even if it never stopped.

It did flare up at times. One day, just after I got back from the university I was taking classes at, I caught them in the laundry room. His face was close to hers: her eyes were shut and her mouth actually trembled. At first, I tried to edge away and not look at Logan's expression. But I had to. When I did, my heart stopped. His eyes were on fire. Could he love her?

Soon, I began to look for ways I could make myself forget the pain, if not him, for a little while. I thought I'd settle for five minutes of peace. One of the things that helped was a new member of the team, a man called Remy. Not because he was attractive, but because he was wonderfully able to get your attention, to surprise you or suddenly make you laugh. It wasn't much but it was something.

It didn't end well. Remy had taken me outside in the evening, while everyone else ate dinner (Logan was sitting across from Jean, I imagined their feet touch lightly, covered by the tablecloth) so we could look at the stars. We sat together on the bench, (I smelled cigar smoke in the air, very faintly…had he been here, smoking and reading with his brow furrowed, the way that made my heart almost burst with-)

"Rogue." His slightly accented, formal voice was steady but unmistakably sad. I felt an jolt inside. What was he about to tell me? "You are beautiful. Don't blush and look away, chere, look at my eyes. I have enjoyed your company. You are…dear to me. But this is- this is not all I want."

My heart started beating much faster. No one had said this to me before. Bobby kissed me and danced around the subject, but he never actually asked for anything more. Just broke up with me when I didn't give it. I smiled wryly, remembering Logan's fury when I told him I really didn't think Bobby would want me telling people why we split up. (Bobby wasn't too keen on having Logan kill him, so…)

"You smile. It is a lovely sight but I know it is not for me." I was in the present again, with Remy on the bench. I looked up into his eyes, waiting for the final blow. His voice was a little angry now, almost. "I see you every day, you captivate me, Rogue. But to get your attention, I am always fighting for it, proving myself again and again."

I felt choked up all of a sudden. He was such a good friend and I hurt him. He loved me, maybe, or almost did. Couldn't I try again? If I would always love Logan and he would always love Jean, that what would be the sense of refusing Remy? "I'll do anything to make it up to you," I murmured and tried to get myself behind those words.

"I know you would," he replied, tenderly almost. "But it isn't enough. When I make love to a woman, I want her to be making love to me. Not settling for me." He got up abruptly. "Goodbye, chere."

He'd go and I wouldn't have anyone.

I got up too and kissed him. Anything, anything to make the pain stop. Mine and his. "Stay," I whispered when we broke apart, him slightly breathless. "Stay and I will do anything, anything to make it good again. Make love to me."

"Shhh, chere," he mumbled against my hair, "it never was good. It was only comfortable."

With that, he left, looking sorry.

I started to cry and the pain blazed inside as I lowered myself back down on to the bench. There was nothing left now. All I had was the certainty that no one could be better than Logan, no one could replace him. No one would put up with me as long as I…


"Don't give it a name," I said aloud.

"Don't give what a name?" a voice said I knew better than my own. Deep, powerful, curious. Curious. I saw him again, in the laundry room with Jean's face so close, sitting across from her at dinner, touching her shoulder, smiling at her, calling her by that loving nickname, Jeannie. And he was curious about why I was crying.

God, now I knew. Now I knew what would kill the pain.

"I hate you!" I hissed as I turned to face Logan. But I didn't look at his face. I looked down into my gloved hands. "You've ruined me. He'll never come back." I looked up at his face now but it didn't matter because tears blurred my vision. "I'll never have anyone like that again, you know! Who else would be patient enough to put up with the skin and how quiet I am, and that I never tell him I love him or that I'm grateful-"

But I'm cut off. He took me in his arms and my face was buried against his strong chest. I revel, knowing how little his happens, almost shaking in pleasure to be so near him and to feel his arms holding me so tightly that it almost hurts and-

"Grateful?" I can't see his face but his voice his shaky with anger. "That prick should thank God on his knees he got to be near you and I didn't fucking kill him for it…he should be grateful."

It actually was starting to hurt now, he was holding me so tightly.

"He had everything, Marie. He had you. And he threw it away, cause' he couldn't just have a little bit, he wanted more and-" I felt him swallow. "He wanted to have you in every way. He aches for you and he loves you, more than life itself, more than anything. You're like a goddamn addiction, he just can't stay away."

Was he still talking about Remy?

His hands were moving over me, touching me in a mad, needing way, and… and…

"Logan." I looked at him, seeing him clearly now. His expression was strained, tortured. His eyes were oddly bright. "Do you love me?"

I took a sharp intake of breath when he pushed me up against that bench, and he was so close that I could feel his heart beating wildly, in time with my own. "Do I love you?" he repeated. "I adore you, I want you, I'd die for you. I want to keep you safe and be yours, and have you be mine-"

My voice was verging on hysterical. "You love me?" We kissed wildly. But suddenly, through a mist of desire, a thought occurred to me. "If you love me, why do you flirt with Jean?"

He laughed, and I felt cold. "Jean? I haven't flirted with her once since I've come back."

"I saw you together," I said adamantly, fighting to break free from him now, "don't lie to me, I saw you."

"Stop it, Marie, calm down." He held me in his iron grip and I gave up, sagging against him. "When did you see me with her?"

"In the laundry room, you were so close and…"

"God, kid," he looked down at me with such a look of adoration, and simultaneously frustration that I couldn't feel quite so angry. "Why didn't you say somethin' before, huh? I could've set you straight. Jean's been…coming on to me, and I didn't want her anymore so I told her to back off. She wouldn't. And then, just to get my goat, she said something about you that I just-" He paused, gathering himself, "-snapped. I got real close and I told her if she ever fucked with you again, she'd be over."

I thought of Jean's face again. Trembling lips, closed eyes. Maybe she'd been afraid.

"I can't believe you love me," I murmured.

"Believe it. Hey, Marie?"

"Yeah, Logan?"

"Do you love me?"

"Yes," I whispered and finally gave it a name.

End