The crowds were atrocious.

This was the first thing Rogue noticed as she exited her taxi, which was parked about a block away from the clinic administering the so-called "mutant cure".

The streets were teeming with the throng of humanity crushed within. On the left side, hastily constructed metal blockades were set up in order to form some semblance of a line, while on the opposite side, a mob of people milled about like restless lions, some holding signs, others with bull horns to magnify their jeering voices. These were the people who wanted to be the first to witness the end of the "mutant problem", and they weren't shy about voicing their excitement.

The line of mutants waiting to receive their shots was vast, stretching down the block and disappearing around the corner. Some were obviously mutants, their physical characteristics glaringly different from their human counterparts. Most though, just looked like average people.

Steeling herself, Rogue drew her cloak tighter around her body and began to make her way to the end of the line. Panic gnawed deep in her belly, the proximity of so many people making her skin crawl.

This is why ah'm doin' this, she thought. So ah can be free to walk down a crowded street without fear, without consequences. Not for some boy.

Unconsciously, her lip curled up in a grimace, remembering her last meeting with Logan in the foyer. He had told her he understood her motives, related to her wanting to be close to someone.

Of course he could relate, Rogue fumed, seeing as to how he had wanted to get close to Jean since the moment they had arrived at Xavier's. It wasn't the same though. He could touch her, had touched her. Rogue wasn't blind, or stupid. She had witnessed their passionate kiss in the woods after Stryker had attacked the school, and some sick compulsion had propelled her to watch the surveillance vidoes from the Med-Bay after Jean had escaped. Oh yes, Logan had gotten close to Jean alright. And he had the gall to look her in the eye and claim that he understood how she was feeling?

Quickening her pace, Rogue continued her way down the line, noticing with dismay that the end was still nowhere in sight. Sighing in frustration, she resolutely marched on.

"Eyes on the prize Rogue, eyes on the prize," she whispered to herslef, clenching her gloved hands into fists.

It hit her suddenly that she missed Charles, missed him so desparetely that she thought her heart would shatter, just blow away into the ether like his body had. To lose him now, now when she needed his council more than ever, was a horrible blow. How many times had he given her solace when her mind was in turmoil? How often had she gone to him to place her head on his knee, to have him rest his hand over her hear, and tell her without a word that it would all be alright? To know that she would never again see those wise blue eyes, or hear his calming voice... This was agony.

Would he have approved of her desicion to get the cure? She knew he'd have said there was nothing to cure, that this was what she was intended to be. He'd have told her not to give up, that control over her power would come in time. And she had tried, Lord, how she tried to gain that ever elusive control, and while she'd had marginal success, it wasn't enough. She wanted more.

Rogue glanced up at the overcast sky, wincing at the sight of smog and the angry black clouds. She wondered if he was up there, frowning down on her.

A hand suddenly clamped itself around her forearm, causing her to jerk back and utter a surprised gasp.

"Sorry!" The young man who had grabbed her arm winced apologetically. "I didn't mean to scare you, but you weren't watching where you were going. You almost walked right into that trash can!"

Looking to where he pointed, Rogue felt her face flush in embarrassment. One more step and she would’ve indeed walked into a trashcan, which would have resulted in her face planting on the sidewalk, or going headfirst into said trash receptacle.

Tugging her cloak against her again, Rogue smiled weakly at her saviour. “Thanks. Ah guess ah wasn’t paying attention to where ah was goin’,”

The young man brightened considerably upon hearing her accented voice, and seeing her pretty features. Grinning at her, he stepped back a few paces and motioned for Rogue to get in line in front of him.

“No, no, ah couldn’t! It wouldn’t be fair,” she began to protest, but he quickly waved it off.

“Please, you’d be doing me a favour. I’m not really all that anxious to get this done anyway.”

Smiling at him in thanks, Rogue stepped in front of him, wondering what his mutation was, since none was obviously apparent. In fact, he looked quite a bit like Scott, minus the ruby lenses.

Feeling a lump form in her throat, Rogue quickly turned her back to the man, focusing instead on the bright purple hair of the woman in front of her, trying not to think. But her mind, as traitorous as her poison skin, refused to be controlled, instead presenting her with a multitude of memories and images.

She and Scott had quickly become close friends after she arrived at the mansion, and grew even closer when she learned that he shared her passion for the guitar. It had been such a pleasant surprise to learn that he not only played, but sang as well. She remembered how his mouth had gaped open after she had plucked his guitar from his arms, and proceeded to play the entire ten minutes of the song “Free Bird”, only to have him counter it with a rousing rendition of Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode”. As the years went by, and after Jean’s “passing” at Alkali Lake, they became almost inseparable, just two good friends and almost something more. In recent years it was unspoken of but there, the fact that if she hadn’t loved Logan as much as she did, and if Scott’s heart hadn’t been washed away with Jean, the two of them could have been very happy together.

Now he was gone. The almost-lover she had found in Scott, and the father she had found in Charles, both gone, all because of one woman’s insatiable hunger.

The first stirrings of anger began to flare within her at the thought of Jean.

Not Jean, Rogue amended, Phoenix. Jean was dead; the Phoenix had killed her as surely as she had killed Scott and Charles, and now Logan was running right to her.

That hurt, hurt so much to know that as she was leaving to get this cure, he was going after Jean. Rogue knew in her heart that if it hadn’t been for Jean, Logan wouldn’t have let her go through this alone. He should be here, damnit! She needed his strength, needed him to hold her hand and make her feel safe.

Rogue felt a hesitant tap on her shoulder, and turned to regard the young man who had let her cut in front of him. He had brown eyes, she saw, warm and friendly with hints of gold flecked within, almost feline. Scott’s eyes were blue, she thought randomly, almost purple. She had seen them, just once, when a mission to find some marauding mutants had led them deep into the sewers beneath New York, so far down that the solar energy that gave Scott his optic blasts could no longer reach him.

Shaking herself out of the painful memory, she smiled quizzically at the man, waiting for him to speak. He shuffled his feet awkwardly, chewing on his bottom lip before blurting out, “You don’t look like a mutie.”

The degrading word cut her like a knife. ‘Mutie’ was the word those scum from FoH used, the word the crowd of humans across the street spewed from their mouths like vomit. An ugly word, coming from this nice young man’s lips, and Rogue knew from the casual way he used it, that he believed it, believed that she was just another foul mutie. And so was he.

A raindrop fell on her cheek, and she glanced back up at the forlorn sky. Maybe Charles really was up there. Once, she had referred to herself as a ‘mutie’ in his presence, and the utter sadness she had seen in his eyes after came as an almost physical blow.

‘Would you think of me as a ‘mutie’?’ he’d asked, his voice melancholy. Wordlessly, she had shaken her head, unable to comprehend how anyone would refer to the brilliant Charles Xavier with something as undignified as the word ‘mutie’. With a dawning realization, she saw that if anyone did in fact call him that in her presence, she would beat them to within an inch of their life.

‘So why is it permissible for you to be called that?’ he’d continued, still piercing her with his direct stare.

‘It’s not,’ she had whispered, understanding at last. It was never acceptable, because by demeaning yourself, you demeaned your entire race.

Now Rogue felt her spine stiffen, and she tried to fix on this young man a stare as piercing as the Professor’s had been that day.

“Ah am not a mutie,” she declared hotly, trying to put the force of Charles’ convictions into her words.

The man flushed, staring fixedly at his scuffed sneakers. “Well, I’m Pete, if you’d prefer to call me that.”

“It’s a damn sight better than ‘mutie’,” Rogue growled. Immediately after saying it, shame welled within her at her harsh tone. Somehow, she lacked Charles’ finesse.

Then again, she thought with a wry smirk, growing up next to a swamp doesn’t instill much finesse in anybody.

Pete was now staring at her openly, apparently trying to discern her mutation. Huffing slightly, Rogue saved him the trouble.

“It’s mah skin. Ah hurt people with mah skin.”

Pete’s eyes widened, before staring at the exposed skin on her cheeks with great scrutiny, as though expecting the ivory complexion to start glowing a radioactive green. “Huh,” he muttered. “You got off easy.”

“Easy?” Rogue sputtered in disbelief. “Ya think it’s easy to hafta walk aroun’ trussed up like a mummy all the time? To never be able to touch another living creature without hurtin’ ‘em?”

Pete shrugged uneasily, startled by her outburst. “Sorry. But I’m just saying… at least you can pass for a norm.”

“Well, whatta ‘bout you?” Rogue shot back, the feel of her gloves against her skin weighing on her. “Ya look pretty normal too.”

Pete’s eyes darted around nervously, checking to make sure no one was paying attention to their exchange. Apparently satisfied, he quickly brushed a lock of brown hair away from his head, exposing a pointy, tufted ear.

Rogue raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with this display. After living at Mutant High for several years, a pointy ear was small potatoes when compared with some of the stuff seen there.

“I got a tail, too,” Pete said quickly, as thought that were compensation. “And I see real good in the dark.” A bitter look darkened his face. “The tail bothers me the most though. What kind of girl would want a guy with a freakin’ tail? And don’t even get me started on finding a pair of pants…”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Rogue’s mouth, remembering Kurt. Storm certainly hadn’t minded that he had a tail. Her words: I like a man with character. She must have really like his character a lot, because she had moped around the mansion for weeks after Kurt decided to leave to join a monastery last year.

“You laughing at me?” Pete demanded suspiciously, eyeing Rogue’s secretive smile with a dour look.

Before she could reply, her attention was caught by a commotion further up the line. A woman was making her way down the row of mutants, holding the hand of a child and practically dragging him along behind her. From the expression on the woman’s face, she was clearly displeased by something, and though her mouth moved, Rogue was too far away to catch her words.

As they drew closer, she saw that the child clutching the woman’s hand was a boy, surely no older that ten, and very obviously a mutant. His skin was pale, a lovely translucent blue that gave him an almost ethereal glow, while his eyes and hair stood out in stark contrast, both being ebony black. The look on his face was one of complete misery and shame, and as Rogue was able to pick up the words of the woman holding his hand, she knew why he looked so dejected.

“-believe that? Can you? Over 21, they told me! I’ve been standing here for hours to get this… this child of mine the medical help he needs, and they say minors can’t get it! As his mother, I have the right to make this choice for him!”

Mutants in the line turned their heads away awkwardly from her tirade, some feigning interest in the cracks in the sidewalk, others turning the volume on the MP3 players up a few notches.

Still marching to the end of the line, the woman was undaunted by the lack of support, and continued to rail to anyone who would listen.

“Now look! LOOK!” she shrieked, her eyes glittering manically as she pointed wildly to the child still attached to her hand. “He has to stay like this until he’s 21? He has to live out the rest of his childhood as a freak? A mutie?!? What the hell am I supposed to do with him now?”

Throughout this whole spectacle, Rogue stood motionless, her gloved hands clenched into tight fists as waves of incredulous anger burned within her.

“Poor little blighter.”

The voice behind her made her jump, breaking her from her paralysis. Turning to Pete, she saw his eyes fixed sadly on the little boy, who was now ineffectually hunching deeper into his coat, trying to disappear from view.

The pair now drew next to Rogue and Pete, and though the woman still bleated in her overbearing voice, Rogue no longer heard her, too incensed by her own rage to make out more than an annoying buzz. He hand moved on its own accord, and before she realized she had done it, her fingers were clenched around the woman’s flabby upper arm, stopping her from continuing down the line.

Shocked by the sudden contact, the woman stopped in her tracks abruptly, eyes widening comically at the platinum and brown haired girl who dared to grab her.

“Is there a problem?” she hissed at Rogue, vainly trying to reclaim her arm from the iron grasp that held it captive.

“Ah think there is. Ya mind tellin’ me jus’ what the hell ya think you’re doin’?”

“I think that’s obvious, don’t you? They won’t let this... boy of mine take the cure. As his mother I know what’s best for him, and I know he needs it. Who do these people think they –“

“Shut up,” Rogue snarled, glaring into the woman’s rheumy eyes as she tightened her hold on her arm. The little boy watched in fascination, staring up at Rogue in frank amazement.

“This is your child,” Rogue continued, enunciating each word so carefully her deep Southern accent was almost obliterated. “You gave him life. Now that he hasn’t turned out the way you expected, you’re ashamed of your creation?”

With a tremendous wrench of her arm, the woman broke free from Rogue’s grip and glared at her balefully. “I’m not ashamed of anything! I didn’t do this to him! He’s sick, so I’m doing what any good parent would do with a sick child: try to make him well.”

Bile rose in her throat, and Rogue felt a moment of consternation. She didn’t know why this should shock her so. Hadn’t her own parents said much of the same things to her when her mutation manifested? Hadn’t the entire damn town run her out on a rail when word got around?

“Besides,” the woman continued, a sly look appearing in her eyes. “If you’re so against the cure, what are you doing here? Or did you just think this was the line to get Metallica tickets?” she finished with a derisive laugh, eyeing the platinum locks of hair with contempt.

Before she could answer, Rogue was interrupted by a small voice, so sweet and childlike in its innocence that her throat clenched painfully.

“Please Mommy. I like what I can do. Can’t I keep it? Do I really need to be cured?” The little boy’s black eyes shone like an oil spill, and he stared beseechingly at his mother as she rounded on him in a fury.

“Like it? You like it? I’m trying to fix you, make you better, and you’re saying you like being a freak, a dirty mut-“

“He’s not a freak!” Rogue yelled, unable to listen to anymore of the woman’s nasal voice. “And there’s nothing wrong with him that needs to be fixed!”

“Just like you?” the woman sneered, disdain dripping from every word.

The words hit her like a fist to the gut, jarring reality for an instant. As though in a dream, Rogue met the anguished eyes of the little boy, so round and dark, filled with aching sadness and confusion. Tearing her eyes from his, she stared down at her hands, shrouded by gloves. She had wanted a normal life so badly. Wanted to love, and be loved. But at what cost? Was she really ready to alter the very essence of her being, all because she wanted to feel another’s flesh without pain? How would she even be able to enjoy a normal life, knowing she had turned her back on the only people that mattered to her? She couldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

Now she drew herself up to her full height, no longer hunching within her coat, allowing the wind to blow her hood away from her head as her hair got caught in the breeze, reveling in the sensation.

Her green eyes snapped with fire as she fixed a haughty stare on the woman, who took a hesitant step back from the heat of Rogue’s gaze.

“Ah don’t need any cure,” she spat, holding her head high, “And neither does anyone else here.”

Still holding the woman’s eye, Rogue very deliberately stepped out of the line, barely noticing Pete’s gasp of amazement.

Reaching into a pocket, Rogue felt a few of the school’s business cards at the bottom, and drew out two.

“Here,” she shoved one under the woman’s long nose, restraining the urge to break it just on principal. “This is a school. If ya can’t deal with havin’ a mutant in your family, then bring him here. We can take care of him.”

Turning to Pete, she gave him a one too, smiling gently at him as he met her eyes. “We got plenty o’ girls there, too. And they won’t be scared of a lil ol’ tail, neither.”

Pete took the proffered card, his lips mouthing the words ‘Xavier’s Academy for Gifted Youngsters’.

“What kind of school is this anyway?” he asked before Rogue could turn away.

The woman and her son both look expectantly at Rogue, apparently curious to hear her answer also.

Laying a gloved hand over the little boy’s smooth hair, she grinned down at him. “It’s a special one. For people like us.”

Logan’s words coming from her mouth, hoping she could convey the warmth he gave her on the train that day, hoping they understood what she learned from those simple words: You’re not alone.

Smiling one last time and Pete and the boy, she turned on her heel and walked away, her head still held high.

Never had she felt so proud to be a mutant. They truly were the next stage in evolution, not just some diseased race that had to be quelled. What had Charles said to her once? ‘How can we ever expect the world to accept us, if we won’t even accept ourselves?’ Rogue hadn’t quite understood him then. If you were a mutant, what choice did you have but to accept it? She now realized that she had never truly accepted her mutation; she had resigned herself to it. But now…

Pausing on the bustling sidewalk, Rogue scarcely heard the crowd of people flowing around her, instead staring at her glove covered hands for what seemed like the hundredth time. Slowly, delicately, she removed the gloves, fingertip by fingertip, until both hands were exposed to the cool, damp air.

She stared intently at her pale flesh; the nails perfectly manicured and buffed, the skin baby smooth. Keeping her hands in gloves all the time certainly made her look like she’d never done a days work in her life. The only marring features were the calluses’ on her fingertips from playing guitar. Staring at those deceptively demure hands, a person would never guess at the power flowing beneath the surface, the limitless possibilities of what she could do, who she could be.

Ah am my powers, Rogue realized, and all the good they could do for people, if ah’d only stop denying them.

Still studying her hands in almost a trance, Rogue didn’t even notice the shadow looming over her until the harsh voice cut into her reverie.

“Well well, what’s that old saying about rats deserting a sinking ship? I knew that out of all the X-Geeks, you’d be the one to want the cure. What, your bed getting lonely at night?”

Rogue’s head jerked up, dropping her gloves in surprise at the sudden intrusion of her thoughts. A pair of grey eyes stared at her with dark hilarity, and it took her a moment to place where she’d seen this young man before. Dark unruly hair, early twenties, and with not nearly enough weight on him for his tall frame, he didn’t look as menacing as he appeared when she had seen him in battle. He was one of Magneto’s followers who went by the code-name Avalanche. His power allowed him to produce earthquakes, and though he often talked a big game, he was little more than a mere annoyance to the X-Men.

Lance, that’s his real name, Rogue remembered. Lance what? Searching her memory, she came up blank before brushing the thought away. At the moment, it didn’t matter anyway.

Smirking at her, Avalanche reached down to retrieve Rogue’s gloves off the pavement before wagging them teasingly before her face.

“Guess you don’t need these anymore, huh? How’s it feel to be a traitor to your own kind?”

“Give ‘em back,” Rogue replied angrily, reaching for her gloves only to have them jerked back again.

“Or you’ll do what?” he jeered, a twisted smirk on his face. “Without your powers, you’re less than nothing. Not mutant, not human. Now you really are a freak.”

Without a second thought, Rogue’s arm snaked out, her bare hand cupping Avalanche’s jaw almost tenderly before her mutation took hold and she tightened her grip.

“Who ya callin’ a freak?” she purred, pulling him closer so their faces almost touched.

Avalanche’s eyes bugged out of their sockets as his skin began to crawl with blue veins. As his mind poured into Rogue’s, she realized that something was different this time. Instead of overwhelming her mind with his psyche, it seemed like she was able to keep it separate from her own, thus keeping her own individuality and sense of self still intact.

This snake was here to bring the clinic down! Rogue thought, seeing the information in Lance’s mind. Pyro had already been to the other facility, but Bobby had been there also, probably looking for her. And there was more…

Avalanche was almost unconscious from her hand still wrapped around his face, so Rogue lowered the intensity of her touch, needing him to stay awake for a bit longer.

Ah didn’t even know ah could do that. Rogue tried not to think of the implications this new talent could have in controlling her powers, and instead dug deeper in Avalanche’s mind, searching for what she needed to know. This also was new. Before when she touched a person, she got everything. Now though, she felt like she was reading a catalogue, flipping through the information until she zeroed in on what she was searching for.

There.

Alcatraz. Magneto’s army, complete with his newest side-kick Phoenix, were after the source of the cure. They were on the move now, and time was growing short. Huh. How ‘bout that; Mystique has taken a step down on the food chain…

Satisfied, Rogue released her hold on Avalanche’s face, and watched impassively as he slumped to the ground, twitching slightly. Thankfully the crowd of humans around them was too busy watching the mutants in line on the opposite side of the street to be bothered with noticing the pair right in their midst.

Rogue stooped to retrieve her gloves from Avalanche’s lax hand, before slipping them on easily. For the first time, the feeling of the gloves fitting snugly against her hands did not feel like the shackles of oppression weighing on her.

Without sparing him a second glance, Rogue stepped lithely over Avalanche’s still twitching form, a wicked smile quirking her full lips.

“Thanks for the pick-me-up, sugah. Ah needed it.” Hurrying to the street, Rogue searched for a taxi. She needed to warn the others about Magneto, and she needed to warn them fast. If his army was as big as what she had gleaned from Avalanche, then the team was going to need all the help they could get. Rogue was no slouch when it came to fisticuffs, and she was gunning for a good brawl.

Using her borrowed power, Rogue felt the ground beneath her feet tremble slightly. Avalanche didn’t realize it, but he had the ability to crack the very core of the earth in two; he just didn’t have a big enough vision.

Ah’ll put his gift to good use, Rogue mused, relishing the feel of the cement shivering below her. Ah’ll give Erik a real nice surprise when ah see him.

Spying a taxi idling on the street, she hurried towards it and flung herself into the backseat. The driver eyed her in the review mirror, a bored look on his face. “Where ya headed, honey?” he asked, flipping the meter on before gliding smoothly out into traffic.

“Westchester,” Rogue replied breathlessly. “An’ don’t spare the horses.”

Rogue arrived at the mansion just in time to see the Blackbird disappearing into the clouds at rapid speeds.

“Goddamnit,” she growled. Resisting the childish impulse to stamp her feet in frustration, she bolted for the front door, wondering how the hell she would get to Alcatraz now. First things first, she had to make sure that that’s where the team was heading. It was entirely possible that they could have received wrong information to lure them into a trap… or to just keep them out of the way.

Racing past the rec-room, Rogue skidded to a stop upon seeing Jubilee sprawled on a sofa, a Cosmo magazine in one hand, the other in a sling while an obscenely large bag of gummie-worms balanced precariously on her stomach. Several days ago during a Danger Room training session, Jubilee had taken a nasty fall, resulting in a sprained wrist and an almost dislocated shoulder. While the injury would heal in a few weeks, Logan had claimed at the time that his ear drums would bear permanent scarring from the shrieks that had ensued.

Judging from the angry scowl on her face and the ferocious way she was ripping into the worms, the team must have made her stay behind, and if there was one thing Jubilation Lee hated, it was being left in the dust.

“Jubes!” Rogue cried, yanking the magazine from her hand to ensure her undivided attention. “Where’d the team go? Ah saw the ‘Bird fly off.”

Jubilee leapt to her feet, spilling her candy to the ground, a stunned look on her face upon seeing the gloves still covering Rogue’s hands.

“What happened?” she asked. “Everyone said you ditched to get the cure and –“

“Ah did,” Rogue cut in, “But ah couldn’t go through with it. Look, ah don’t got a lotta time. Where did the team go?”

Seeing the urgency in her friend’s face, Jubilee promptly cut to the chase. “They went to Alcatraz. Something about Magneto and an army of mutants being up to no good.”

Rogue began pacing, her brow furrowed in thought. How would she get there? The Blackbird was gone, and the auxiliary jet was being repaired after Kitty’s test flight ended on a sour note. So how…

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but did someone mention Alcatraz?” a worried voice cut into her thoughts, and Rogue snapped her head up to see who had spoken.

A young man stood in the doorway, his bright blue eyes filled with apprehension. A shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds outside and landed on his blonde hair, turning it into spun gold, and while his face was undeniably handsome, it had a delicate quality to it, making him almost cherubic in appearance. A large coat was wrapped around his lean body, but it was oddly padded, giving him a hunchbacked look.

Seeing Rogue’s inquisitive stare, Jubilee quickly stepped forward. “Rogue, this is Warren. His dad invented the cure. Warren, meet Rogue.”

Rogue blinked at him in surprise. His dad…?

“It’s nice to meet you, but I have to know what’s going on at Alcatraz! My father’s there!” Warren’s voice cracked slightly at the end, his unease obviously growing by the second.

If his daddy’s anythin’ like that woman at the clinic, then Mags can have ‘im, Rogue mused angrily before shaking the thought away.

Staring directly into Warren’s eyes, she said frankly, “Magneto an’ his followers are plannin’ to storm Alcatraz. Mah guess is they ain’t peddlin’ any Girl Scout cookies, neither.”

“Then we have to get there!” Warren declared loudly, already turning to leave.

“Whoa there Sunny Jim, transportation is a problem,” Rogue told him, laying a hand lightly on his arm. “The rest of the X-Men are already on their way there, an’ our other jet is outta commission, so unless ya got a rocket in yo’ pocket, we ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

Warren surprised her by smiling devilishly at her, a speculative light entering his eyes as he studied her.

“How much do you weigh?”

Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down.

Rogue repeated this mantra in her head over and over, but she just couldn’t take her own advice. Soaring hundreds of feet above the earth with only Warren’s strong arms to hold her aloft, she couldn’t help but look down. The whole thing was far too reminiscent of the time she had gotten sucked out of the Blackbird, only this time, instead of free-falling wildly through the air, she was being propelled forward with a clear destination in mind.

Warren adjusted his grip beneath her legs, and despite herself, Rogue squealed loudly and wrapped her arms more tightly around his neck.

Gawd, ah hate bein’ the simperin’ female! she scolded herself and forced her arms to relax slightly before she could choke Warren into unconsciousness. His face was almost within kissing distance of hers, and Rogue felt uncomfortable at the proximity. Studying him from the corner of her eye, she saw that he truly was an exceptionally handsome man.

Not her type though. She had already tried the wholesome, clean-cut look with Bobby and that had worked out oh-so-well. No, her type revolved around a lot of facial hair, muscles till Tuesday, and a belt buckle the size of Texas. Smothering a smile, Rogue decided to break the tension by speaking. “So, uh. Am ah too heavy for ya?”

“You kidding?” Warren grinned at her. “I always wanted to fly into the sunset with a beautiful woman in my arms.”

Rogue uttered an un-ladylike snort, feeling a blush heat her cheeks, while at the same time a wild elation filled her. Had she really actually wanted to get the cure? It must have been temporary insanity, because what was a normal life when compared with this? How many ‘normal’ people can experience flying through the clouds in the arms of an angel while dressed in tight black leather, going head-long into battle on a deserted prison island? When put in that context, probably not a whole lot. Judging from the strange looks they had gotten from people below them as they flew to Alcatraz, they certainly had found it a bit out of the ordinary. Rogue had never felt so wild and free, adrenaline pumping through her veins, while her skin tingled pleasantly from the last remnants of the sinking sun warming her uniform, and she almost wanted to laugh from the sheer exhilaration she felt.

“How much longer do ya figure it’ll be till we get there?” she asked instead, anxious to reach the fight before it was too late.

“Not long. Few minutes, tops,” Warren replied, subtly increasing the speed in his magnificent wings. Rogue stared at them in awe, still not used to their beauty. When he’d first unfurled them after removing his frumpy coat, Rogue had felt a moment of deep reverence. She had lost her faith the night she’d run away from home, but upon seeing those angelic wings, some small measure of it had returned, and for that she was grateful.

“There it is!” Warren jerked his head downwards, indicating the small island ahead.

Barely sparing it a glance, Rogue’s attention was caught by what appeared to be the Golden Gate Bridge; what was left of it at any rate.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” she whispered, recognizing Magneto's calling card. “What is with this man an' destroyin' national monuments an' landmarks? That’s gonna piss some people off…”

She trailed off as Warren banked sharply to the left, bringing them directly above the island, before allowing them to plummet several dozen feet. Restraining the urge to squeal again, Rogue craned her neck to look at the area below.

There were the X-Men, their backs to the facility they were protecting as they stood in a skirmish line, waiting for Magneto’s merry band to reach them. Running at them from the opposite side and closing in fast, were hundreds of mutants. Most looked harmless, but far too many appeared to have some dangerous powers. Staring down at the scene below, Rogue saw that her team was horribly out-numbered. But out-gunned?

Not a chance.

“Drop me!” she yelled to Warren once they were directly over the heads of the X-Men.

“What?!?” he yelped, staring at her in shock. “Here?!?”

“Yes! Get a bit lower first, ah don’t wanna break a leg.”

Still wearing an expression of disbelief, Warren descended several more feet while Rogue removed her death grip from around his neck. Jerking her gloves off, she let them fall to the ground between the two opposing sides, and prepared for the fall. Talk about throwin’ down the gauntlet, she thought wryly as she watched her gloves flutter to the ground.

“NOW!” Launching herself from Warren’s arms, Rogue plummeted to the ground, angling herself to land a few feet in front of the X-Men.

She hit the ground in a crouch, her right fist smashing into the cement an instant after her feet made contact with solid ground. Still remaining in her crouched position, Rogue accessed Avalanche’s power, and from where her fist touched the earth, an ominous crack began to form. Raising her head, Rogue watched as the crack beneath her fist began to spread, growing longer as it snaked from beneath her still form, directly into the path of the oncoming horde of mutants, who paid it no heed.

The crack vanished within the crowd, and Rogue waited until she knew it was perfectly in the center of the mob before unleashing her surprise.

Don’t go overboard now, she cautioned herself, we are on an island, an' ah don’t wanna bring us all down with this stunt… if it works.

Relaxing her clenched fist, she sent another seismic wave down the crack, where it reached the hypocenter and ruptured, sending shockwaves through the ground beneath Magneto’s army. The approaching mutants were knocked to the floor from the force of this onslaught, which Rogue guessed was about an 8 on the Richter scale. It had taken intense concentration on her part not to rip the entire island to pieces, merely to just disrupt the earth a couple of feet beneath the surface. Not even Avalanche had such control over his power, and Rogue's heart skipped a beat, wonder if this was the beginning of something greater. If she had this much control over others' powers, what did this mean for her own?

Brushing the thought away for the moment, Rogue gracefully rose to her feet, admiring her handiwork. Magneto's bad-ass army was rolling on the ground like bowling pins, unable to gain steady footing until after the aftershock subsided, thus buying the X-Men a few more minutes of respite.

Turning to face her friends, she pretended not to notice their dumbfounded expressions, acting as though she often fell out of the sky on a regular basis.

She stood in a languid stance, cocking a hip to one side while one bare hand toyed with a tendril of white hair. "Hi guys," she said nonchalantly. "Hope y'all don't mind me uh... droppin' in."

From his position next to Kitty, Bobby groaned loudly and covered his eyes with one hand. "After an entrance like that, that's the best opening line you could come up with? Why not, 'wow, that was an earth-shattering experiance' or something like that?"

"Gimme a break," Rogue pouted defensively. "It's the best ah could do under the circumstances. Ah am havin' a really weird day."

Logan was staring at her in amazement, and as always whenever she saw him, Rogue's heart fluttered painfully beneath her breast. Steadying her breathing, she watched as his eyes roved up and down her body as though searching for something different.

"You didn't get the cure," he said, finally meeting her eyes with his intense hazel stare. Looking at him levelly, Rogue mutely shook her head as his eyes continued to bore into her, a puzzled expression furrowing his brow.

Hank moved between the two, a regretful look on his distinctive blue face. "Forgive me my dear Rogue, for interrupting, but it would seem that our fellow brethren across the way have regained their equilibrium and are back on course."

Rogue spun around, only to be greeted with the sight of Magneto's followers running at them full bore yet again. "Aw shoot," she scowled, "Ah guess the beer an' pretzels will hafta wait."

Giving Logan one last meaningful look, she deliberately turned away from him and instead hurried to take up position beside Storm on the other end. By accepting her power, she now also accepted the fact that Logan would never love her the way she wanted, and with that came the realization that she had released him from his promise: he no longer had to take care of her. More importantly, she no longer needed him to. The days events had taught her that she could stand on her own, and though it ripped at her heart to know he didn't want her in that way, she knew she was strong enough to withstand the pain. After all, she mused sadly, unrequited love was better than no love at all.

Sending a saucy wink to Colossus as she sauntered past him, Rogue took up a fighters' stance next to Storm, her heart warming from the pride that she saw glowing in the eyes of the goddess.

"Hey," Kitty called to Rogue. "Need your gloves back?"

The gloves in question lay where they had fallen in the dust in front of the team's feet, and Rogue flexed her bare hands before cracking her knuckles loudly. "Not tonight," she replied, a sinister smile appearing on her china doll features as the mutant army finally reached them.

"Oh, this is gonna be fun..."

Rogue was having the time of her life.

As the battle continued to rage on, she learned what she was truly capable of. For years she had trained in intensive hand-to-hand combat with both Logan and Scott, learning various battle tactics during countless hours spent in the Danger Room, only using her skin as a last resort. The Professor had told her numerous times that the brain had an infinite capacity, thus allowing her to absorb as many personalities as she wanted, if she’d only learn the right way to filter them within her mind properly. However, Rogue had never picked up the knack, making her reluctant to use her power.

Until now.

With every bare-fisted punch she threw, with every savage head-butt she delivered, her opponents would weaken a bit more, while she grew stronger from their life-force and took on their powers for a time. Their minds were easily stored away in the vast warehouse of her brain, their thoughts barely causing a ripple in her own, and as the minutes ticked by mutants within Rgoue's vicinity dropped like flies. Somehow, it would seem that she had finally learned what Charles had always tried to instill in her: that she could do it, she just had to believe she could.

Currently she was grappling with a mutant whose main power seemed to lie in making her scalp itch slightly. Hearing a familiar growl to her left, Rogue quickly turned her head to observe Logan fighting a few feet away, viciously swinging his claws into a mutant who appeared to be composed of multiple regenerating tentacles; for every one Logan slashed off, a new one grew in it’s place almost instantaneously.

Feeling Rogue’s eyes on him, Logan spoke without looking at her. “Enjoyin’ the show, Kid?” he asked, taking another ineffectual swipe at his adversary.

Sweeping her leg out in a devastating round-house kick which connected solidly with her own sparring partner’s jaw, Rogue casually replied, “Well, ah thought about askin’ if ya needed a hand, but ah think your problem is that ya got too many.”

“Switch?” Logan asked hopefully, clearly tired of fighting tentacle-man.

“Deal,” she agreed, driving her opponent back with a flurry of punches. “But if ah touch him an’ start growin’ things, ah will hurt you.”

Grinning, Logan ducked, allowing Rogue to leap nimbly over his back before planting her feet firmly in front of the tentacle laden mutant. “Alright Squiggly,” she said grimly. “Let’s dance.”

Blinking at her stupidly, the mutant groped for her with his extra appendages which bounced harmlessly off of her. One of the last mutants she had absorbed had almost a rubber-ball exterior, which caused objects to deflect right off her body. It still didn’t stop the slime oozing off the tentacles from coating her uniform though.

No chance in Hell am ah touchin’ this guy, Rogue decided after a particularly large amount of gook splashed against her thigh. Time to bring out the big guns.

Accessing another power, Rogue opened her mouth and spat a great gout of fire at the creature, where it promptly burst into flames. With a horrid shriek, it turned tail and ran blindly to the edge of the island, searching frantically for the water.

Brushing her hands off, Rogue caught the eye of another of Magneto’s followers, who appeared to be debating on whether or not he should attack her. Still watching him, Rogue blew out several smoke rings from her mouth and smiled enticingly. However, after witnessing the fate of her last foe, this new mutant wasn’t about to be taken in. Instead he turned and leapt into the water, swimming for the shore at warp speed.

“HEY!” Rogue cried in disappointment. “Get back here!” Suddenly the ground beneath her trembled violently, and she looked around in confusion. Avalanche couldn’t be here, she told herself, ah put him down for a week, so who’s…

“Rogue!” Bobby’s voice called to her from his position atop an ice ramp. “Shadowcat’s going after the cure, you gotta help her!”

Looking towards the facility, Rogue saw Kitty literally going through the crowd as she made a beeline for the building. Meanwhile, Rogue located the source of the ‘earthquake’: Juggernaut had joined the fray and was sprinting after Kitty, his every step causing the earth to tremble beneath his bulk.

Jumping up, Rogue ricocheted back off the ground with her feet, launching herself into the air. With that one mighty leap, she soared over the heads of the swarm of mutants and hit the ground running next to Kitty just before the petite brunette had reached the building.

Gasping in surprise, Kitty stared at Rogue as she skidded to a stop. “Rogue, what-“

“Ya got a tail,” Rogue cut her off, pointing behind them to the massive shape of Juggernaut plowing through mutants in his determination to get to them. Reaching down, she clasped Kitty’s glove covered hand in her own and smiled. “Shall we?” with that, they both went through the wall and entered the facility.

“Any idea where the source of this cure is kept?” Rogue asked as they made their way through the corridors.

“Hank told us he’s in Observation Room 5, top floor,” Kitty replied breathlessly, still clutching Rogue’s hand as they ran through walls and various other objects in their path.

“’He’?”

Kitty was stopped from explaining when a massive smash was heard below them, followed by many more, each growing closer than the last.

Rogue released Kitty’s hand and shoved her forward. “Go on,” she urged her, “Ah’ll take care o’ Jughead.”

Kitty’s wide brown eyes looked at her nervously for an instant before she nodded and disappeared through the nearest wall.

A few moments later Juggernaut smashed into the room, halting in his tracks upon seeing Rogue with her back pressed against the opposite wall, her legs crossed delicately at the ankles while an insolent smirk played upon her face.

“Cain ya ol’ dog, it’s been too long! Ah ain’t seen ya since we got yo’ sorry ass carted off to prison!”

An expression of intense hatred blackened Juggernaut’s face at these words. The X-Men had indeed been responsible for his incarceration, but it had been Rogue who had been the one to take him down by touching him those years ago. Apparently his time in the big-house hadn’t improved his disposition, and he still bore a grudge towards the X-Men, Rogue in particular.

Now he stalked towards her slowly, grinning lasciviously. “I know your game now, love. No touching that pretty magnolia skin of yours. I'm just gonna squish you like a bug.”

Still not moving from her relaxed position against the wall, Rogue watched him with ill-disguised boredom as he suddenly froze in his tracks less than two feet away from her.

“Somethin’ wrong, sugah?” she asked sweetly, batting her long black eyelashes as Juggernaut remained motionless, an expression of confusion entering his eyes.

“You’re doing this!” he screamed at her, futilely trying to move as Rogue pushed herself away from the wall and prowled around him like a hungry leopard, watching him with interest. The mutant she had absorbed this power of paralysis from had been a pimply-faced man who had went down like a sack of grain after Rogue had pinched a nerve in his neck from behind him. Ah gotta thank Logan fo' teachin' me that little trick, Rogue mused.

Tired of toying with him now, she grasped one heavily muscled forearm and watched as Juggernaut struggled vainly to break free. She held on for a while longer before releasing him, wincing at the sharp cracking noise that accompanied his tumble to the floor.

“Nighty-night,” she told him gently, before smashing through the wall Kitty had went through earlier. Next stop: Observation Room 5, top floor.

Rogue could feel the little boy’s eyes drilling into her back as she lead the way out of the building. She knew he was watching her, because from the moment she has smashed her way into the room where he was kept, he had been transfixed by her. Mus’ be the hair, she thought to herself.

Kitty had quickly warned her about the boy’s mutant suppressing power, so Rogue kept several feet between them as they made their way out, not wanting to be caught off-guard if someone were to try to block their escape, meanwhile her mind was in an uproar. When she had first laid eyes on the source of the cure, she thought she was seeing a ghost. He looked almost exactly the way Cody had looked when he was a little boy, and her heart lurched at the jarring resemblance, while her mind was instantaneously filled with memories she thought she had long forgotten, or perhaps covered up. Memories from before her mutation, before she became Rogue and was just Marie, a young girl living in poverty near the banks of the Mississippi. Remembering how she and Cody had met when they had been just five years old, when she had decked him in the face for throwing her into a mud puddle and ruining her pretty new dress. Lord, was her Momma ashamed! Nice Southern young ladies most assuredly did not deck anyone, no matter what the circumstances. Afterwards, the two children had struck up an unlikely friendship, which lasted up until they shared their first kiss and Rogue’s power surfaced. Before she had run away from home, she had visited Cody in the hospital one last time. The doctors had told his family that there was no chance of him ever waking up, and as Rogue stared at his unconscious face, grown old before it’s time, the guilt of what she had done almost overwhelmed her. Her first friend, her first love, her first kiss… her first victim.

Now there was this boy Jimmy looking at her, depending on her to keep him safe. Rogue knew nothing about this child, but she knew she would protect him with everything she had in her, feeling that if she could keep him from harm, maybe in some way it would somewhat atone for what she had done to Cody so long ago.

At last they made it out of the facility and Rogue gestured for them to follow her along the wall, out of sight from the battle which appeared to be winding down.

After a few yards, Rogue stopped and went to stand beside Kitty and Jimmy. “OK Kit-Kat, think ya can make it to the ‘Bird from here?”

Rolling her eyes at the nickname, Kitty nodded. “You be careful,” she told Rogue gravely, releasing Jimmy’s hand to wrap the other girl in a tight hug. “Jubilee will kill me if anything happens to you.”

Chuckling, Rogue returned the embrace before stepping back to crouch in front of Jimmy. “Alright honey, ya ready to go home?”

She watched as his wide blue eyes lowered to the ground, and he mumbled quietly in a forlorn voice, “This was my home.”

Glancing around, Rogue saw that his ‘home’ was almost completely wrecked, with bodies littering the ground while other areas were alight with fire, to say nothing of the various debris strewn about.

Smiling at him in reassurance, she leaned closer and whispered, “We’ll be your home now.”

Jimmy’s head lifted, and Rogue was pleased to see the hope shining in his young face. Unable to help herself, she tentatively raised one hand, noticing how different it was from earlier that afternoon. Then it was delicate, smooth, the hand of a debutante. Now though, the carefully shaped nails were broken and chipped, the deceptively dainty knuckles bruised, cut and swollen, while blood and other grime coated her skin.

Her hand still hovered uncertainly in front of Jimmy’s face, not wanting to touch his unsullied skin with her filth, until finally she reached out and brushed one finger lightly over his smooth cheek.

Rogue’s eyes prickled from emotions, realizing that this was the first time in years that she was actually touching someone without bringing pain, the first time being so close to a child. Back in Mississippi, Rogue had been a great baby-sitter, longing for the day when she could have her own children. After her power presented itself, she didn’t dare get too close to any kids, not even at the mansion, terrified of what her skin could do to a small child.

Still grazing her finger along Jimmy’s rosy face, Rogue smiled gratefully at him. “Thank-you.”

Jimmy blushed, a bashful look on his features. “I get that a lot,” he confessed, and Rogue laughed, dropping her hands to her sides as she stepped back.

“Ah’ll bet ya do,” she agreed. “Now, y’all gotta motor on outta here. Ah get the feelin’ this is the calm before the storm.”

Nodding at her one last time, Kitty reclaimed Jimmy’s small hand and together they ran for the direction of the Blackbird, their forms melting into the shadows as Rogue turned back to the fight.

The majority of Magneto’s army had abandoned ship, fleeing the island with their lives and whatever pride they had left, but a few still remained. As she watched, Rogue saw a huge fire-ball soaring through the sky, heading straight for a small group of military personnel, who squawked in terror while they scrambled for safe cover.

Without much thought, Rogue felt her feet leave the ground as she soared into the sky, placing herself directly in the path of the oncoming flaming projectile.

Absently wondering when she had absorbed someone who could fly, she pushed the thought away as she approached the fire-ball in the sky. As she drew nearer to it, Rogue saw that it was a car, or used to be. Judging from the flames, she figured Johnny was behind it.

Just as she was about to meet it in mid-air, the flames engulfing the car vanished as ice began to form around the blackened metal. Recognizing the work of Bobby, Rogue sent him a silent thanks. She hadn’t really wanted to char her snazzy uniform anyway.

Using Juggernaut’s incredible strength, Rogue spun in a circle, swinging her arm out like a bat as it connected solidly with the now ice-covered car. It smashed off her and rebounded back in the direction it had come from, and from her position in the air, Rogue could clearly see Pyro and Magneto standing side by side, both oblivious to the danger heading right at them as they continued launching fiery cars at their enemies.

Rogue’s eyes were drawn to another figure dressed entirely in red, standing a bit off to the side of Magneto’s position. Seeing the trademark red hair fluttering in the breeze like a banner, Rogue instantly recognized the Phoenix and unconsciously bared her teeth at her.

The icy car she had launched back was now almost over the heads of the trio before Magneto noticed it. Caught by surprise, there was no time for him to erect a shield with his supply of metal strewn about. Instead, he and John frantically dove out of the way with barely an instant to spare as the car crashed into the ground where they had been standing only a split second before. The only one who appeared unfazed was Phoenix. She remained exactly where she stood before, an empty expression on her face as she watched the two men climb back to their feet.

Still hovering above the earth, Rogue watched as Magneto spoke urgently to Pyro, who nodded and ran out of sight while Magneto finally raised his head to glare up at her.

Sure that she had his undivided attention now, Rogue smiled benevolently down at him…

And gave him the finger.

Magneto’s face contorted into a mask of rage, and Rogue almost expected him to throw a temper tantrum right then and there. Instead, he appeared to mentally count to ten before smiling up at her in a grandfatherly way.

“Come no child, this is pointless,” he called to her, his voice cajoling. “Why do you waste your time and those amazing talents of yours just to defend a few worthless homo-sapiens?”

Rogue placed both hands on her hips and shook her head in disbelief. “Because it’s right,” she shot back, using a tone usually reserved for wayward children.

“You have a great power Rogue,” he continued as though she hadn’t spoken at all. “And a great darkness within you. That’s good. With such a combination, you could be a great addition to our cause.”

Yeah, see where it got Mystique, Rogue quipped to herself, before glancing swiftly behind her to see Bobby and John battling it out. A part of her itched to go help her old boyfriend, but she knew this was something he had to do on his own; he would only resent her interference.

Turning her attention back to Magneto again, she allowed her smirk to widen. “Immer der Verkäufer, Erik” she said, enjoying the way his face blanched upon hearing his native tongue coming from her mouth. “Big man you are, takin’ kids an’ brainwashin’ ‘em to yo’ way o’ thinkin’. If ah recall correctly, ain’t that what the Nazis used to do? ‘Sie jung erhalten’, ain’t that what they always said?”

Rogue knew she had hit a nerve from the way Magneto jerked as though she had physically struck him; his face flooded with colour and he appeared too enraged to do more that open and close his mouth like a fish on land. If he starts shakin’ his fist at me like some scandalized ol’ lady, I’m gonna bust a gut, Rogue thought. Aw screw it. With that she burst out laughing, and turning her back on his now-purple face, she flew down to check on Bobby’s progress. However, when her eyes fell on him, she lost her concentration and fell the last few feet to the ground, landing in an ungainly sprawl in the dirt by Pyro’s unconscious body.

“Bobby,” she breathed, taking in his new appearance. He now looked like a living ice sculpture of himself, quite literally an Iceman… an apparently naked Iceman.

Noticing where her eyes had roved to, Bobby jerked the jacket off of John’s limp body and held it modestly in front of himself. “My uniform cracked off, OK?” he huffed, clearly mortified. “But look! I mopped the floor with Johnny!”

Standing up on suddenly wobbly legs, Rogue grinned at Bobby, slowly getting used to his au naturel look. "Let's find ya a pair o' pants before ya start a few fires of yo' own," she giggled, wagging her eyebrows suggestively.

Just then a cacophony of gunfire rang out, causing the pair to cry out in surprise while their hands rose instinctivly to cover their ears against the assualt.

"Looks like the Marines have jus' landed," Rogue observed mildly, pointing to a squadron of military personnel who were currently firing with everything they had at their disposal towards the vicinity of Magneto.

They ain't really firing bullets at a man who manipulates metal...are they? Rogue asked herself in wonder as Magneto launched another attack, sending metal and shrapnel towards the humans shooting at him.

Debris flew all around them, and Rogue hastily scooped up John off the ground like a sack of potatoes and thrust him into Bobby's still ice-covered arms. "Take 'im an' get outta here," she told him sternly, cutting him off when he opened his mouth to protest. "Ya ain't got any pants on Bobby! Ya wanna get killed out there when ya get distracted worryin' 'bout your man parts bein' exposed?"

Looking like a chastised puppy, Bobby nodded in defeat. "When you put it that way..." Turning, he began to make his way to the jet, but when he was several feet away Rogue called out to him.

"Bobby!"

He paused to look at her expectantly, clutching John awkwardly in his arms, and Rogue shrugged slightly, a lewd grin on her face. "It's a good look for ya, though. Ah know ah like it."

"Lech," he replied with laughter in his voice, before continuing on in the direction of the Blackbird.

Still smiling, Rogue turned to see the rest of the X-Men heading towards her, and she hurried to meet them halfway. A flying piece of what seemed to be a part of the Golden Gate Bridge raced towards her from the sky, and she threw herself to the ground, rolling over until her back hit the side of the remnants of the military truck that the team was huddled behind for cover.

"Magneto seems angry," Colossus said in his deep rumbling voice, his metal skin glinting eerily from the various fires burning unchecked around them.

"Yeah, ah think ah may have had a hand in that," Rogue admitted, chewing on her bottom lip with a guilty expression. "Ah might have... flipped him the bird."

"Oh my," Beast exclaimed softly, while Logan gave her the thumbs up, a smirk curling his lips.

"Meanwhile, nothing is hitting him," Storm panted, brushing blood away from a gash on her forehead. "We're just going in circles until someone takes him down HARD."

"I could-" Logan began before cut him off sharply.

"Ya couldn't do anythin', Logan," she told him. "You an' Colossus would be the worst to try anythin'. He'd sense ya comin' from a mile away, an' then what? He'd play ya both like puppets." She glanced down at the ground, brow furrowed in thought. Even if they were somehow able to knock him out now, so what? Magneto was like a cockroach; you could never get rid of him, he'd just keep coming back for more. Getting close enough to him to kill him was an option, but Rogue was still loathe to do it, knowing that Charles wouldn't want his old friend killed, despite things he had done.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Beast, who suddenly scrambled for something on the ground. "Ah-ha!" he exclaimed in victory. Sitting back up, he produced what appeared to be a magazine from a firearm, yet instead of bullets, it was filled with needles."They promised that they would never use the cure as a weapon against mutants," he said sadly, turning the cartridge over in his large furry hand. "I suppose that it's fortuitous for us that they lied."

Rogue gently extracted it from his grip, staring at the slim vials in amazement. Ah wanted this to be injected in me, she thought in shame. Shaking the thought away, she raised her eyes to her team.

"Ah know how we can do this."

Concealed within the shadows, Rogue watched as Logan was propelled through the air after being thrown by Colossus, his lethal claws gleaming dully in the firelight.

Magneto sensed him coming just like they knew he would, and though this was part of the plan to distract the master of magnetism, Rogue couldn't help but cringe as she watched him manipulate Logan's bones cruelly while he thrashed in the dust at Magneto's feet.

He'll never hurt him again, Rogue promised herself. This ends tonight.

With that, she sprung into action. She vaulted from her hiding place and grabbed onto a nearby lamp post, swinging around it to thrust her body through the air to close the distance between her and Erik. Landing softly behind him, her feet struck the ground with hardly a sound and Rogue unconciously held her breath in anticipation.

Grabbing his shoulder tightly, she spun him around to face her, deciding at the last moment that she wanted him to see her, to know how was the one who brought him down.

Magneto's face was filled with surprise when his eyes met hers, and as she rammed the handful of needles into his body, the surprise gave way to horror.

Rogue stepped back, unable to look away from his disbelieving eyes. For the first time, there was no sardonic smile on her lips, no cocky swagger to her body language; only the fury burning in her green eyes as she watched Magneto clutch senselessly at the needles protruding from his chest.

"What, no wise remarks about mah hair now?" Rogue asked coldly as he finally crumpled to the ground, suddenly looking like just a weak old man. A part of her cried out in sympathy for him, but she squelched that voice instantly, remembering how she had begged for her life and pleaded with him not to put her in that horrid machine of his. All the while his face had positively glowed with happiness and excitement as he reached to put his bare hands on her tear streaked face. No, he hadn't wasted any sympathy for her that night, and now he deserved none from her. This was his just reward.

Exhaling the breath she hadn't known she was holding, Rogue turned away from the frail body on the ground and smiled softly at Logan as he moved towards her, looking completely recovered from Magneto's sadistic torture.

"You OK?" he asked as he grazed a gloved hand tenderly across her cheek while the rest of the X-Men converged around them.

"Excellent job Rogue!" Beast boomed heartily, rushing over to give her an enthusiastic clap on the back as he he bared his fangs in a wide grin. "I must say, you-"

A sudden explosion that rocked the island cut Hank off in mid-sentence, causing them all to sway precariously on their feet as the earth roiled uneasily beneath them.

"What-" Storm began, but Rogue already saw what the commotion was and cut her short.

"We forgot 'bout Jean." She spoke mostly to herself, but everyone heard her words and as one the small group turned to see Jean, her face nearly unrecognizable under the guise of the Phoenix. Military personnel surrounded her from all sides, firing at her in desperation only to have their ammo disintegrate as it hit an invisible shield around her still form. The more they shot at her, the angrier Jean seemed to become, until suddenly the air itself became filled with a tangible tension that only promised more trouble to come.

"She's going to destroy the entire island," Storm said as various objects around them began to turn to dust.

"And that's only the beginning," Beast added solemnly, grimacing when several men wearing army fatigues disappeared into a cloud of ashes.

Colossus gaped at the growing destruction, clearly jolted by what his eyes saw. "She must be stopped," he yelled, raising his voice to be heard over the multitude of sounds encompassing them. A still flaming tire from a truck whizzed by, narrowly missing him by inches, reminding them all of the danger they were in just by standing still.

Logan stepped forward, his lips drawn into a grim line. "I'm the only one who can do it. All of you get the hell outta here now."

No one denied his statement. They all knew that with his healing factor, Logan truly was the sole one amongst them who had the slightest chance to end Jean's rampage.

"Logan..."

Rogue's voice was barely above a whisper, yet still he heard her. He turned to face her, ready to cut off the protests he knew she would make. What he didn't expect was for her to kiss him.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Ah'm sorry Logan, Rogue thought as she pressed her lips hungrily against his. But you're not the only one who can stop her. Remorse ate at her for doing this to him, but it was the only way. She may very well die trying, but she couldn't willingly stand by and watch as Logan went through the agony of killing the one woman he truly loved. Rogue knew that if he did it, he would never be the same again, and she loved him too much to see him in pain. If it was within her power to do so, she would spare him from whatever anguish she could.

Logan struggled weakly against her embrace, and Rogue quickly filtered his thoughts safely away, not wanting to see what he was feeling or thinking. Blood seeped from wounds that re-opened on his body as Rogue drained him of his powers, making her fearful that she would accidently kill him, but still she held on, trusting herself to know when it was enough, and if these were indeed her last moments alive, she wanted to savour the feel of Logan's lips on hers.

Finally as his knees buckled beneath him, Rogue tenderly lowered him to the ground, still pressing her mouth against his for several long moments before vaguely becoming aware that she was no longer absorbing him. She pulled back from him and brushed a hand gently across his brow as a sad smile appeared on her face. How 'bout that, she thought with a touch of bitter irony, Ah finally learned complete control over mah skin, an' now ah'm likely gonna be vaporized in five minutes.

Logan was still cradled possesively in her arms as the rest of the team stood over them, anxiety written on every face. Looking up, Rogue addressed Colossus. "Keep him safe. Please?"

The gentle giant nodded and bent down to kindly remove Logan from her arms, wrapping them protectively in his own before loping off for the remains of the bridge. Watching them fade in the darkness, Rogue rose fluidly to her feet to meet Beast and Storm's fretful expressions. Seeing the unspoken dissent in the eyes of the weather goddess, Rogue said quietly, "Don't try to stop me Ororo. This is the work that we hafta do, right?"

"Right," Storm agreed, wiping a tear from her cheek with a trembling hand. "Charles would be so proud of you, child."

Another explosion assaulted the island, and Rogue jerked her chin towards the relative safety of the remains of the Golden Gate Bridge. "Get on outta here, the both of ya. Time's up."

Beast's eloquent blue eyes shone wetly with unshed tears as he and Storm turned to leave, and Rogue tried to reassure her old friend. "It'll be alright," she said, knowing it was an empty promise. Two women remained on the island now, and only one of them would be leaving it. Either way, someone had to fall and despite all the carnage she had wrought, Jean was still someone they all loved. Unfortunately the only way to stop Phoenix would destroy Jean in the process.

Steeling herself, Rogue felt the power of Wolverine, Juggernaut and countless others coursing through her and a hard smile came to her lips. She may kill me, but ah'll make damn sure she knows she's been in a fight.

With that final resolution, six bone claws shot from her knuckles as she drew in a deep breath.

And turned to face the Phoenix.

With every step she laboured to take, Rogue dug her feet deeply into the ground, anchoring herself securely so she wouldn't be blown away like everything else on Alcatraz. She supposed she could drop to all fours and use her bone claws to pull herself along, but she couldn't bring herself to crawl before Phoenix; her fierce pride wouldn't allow it.

The closer she got to the glowing figure dressed in red, the more excruciating the pain became. Her leather uniform melted onto her skin, bonding with her flesh before ripping away in chunks. Rogue wasn't sure what hurt more: the feeling of her skin being flayed to the bone all over her body, or Logan's regenerative power making it grow back almost instantaneously. It was irrelevant anyway; the constant cycle of damage and healing continued unceasingly.

Still Rogue marched on.

When she was only a few feet from her target, Phoenix finally turned her full attention on the young woman approaching her, watching Rogue the way a person might observe a particularly interesting insect. Jean's face was now gone, completely hidden beneath the wraithlike visage of the dark Phoenix. Her eyes were ghastly black pits of madness, and as Rogue stared deep into their inky depths, she felt her own eyeballs vaporize tortuously in their sockets, reforming within seconds as her mind struggled to comprehend what was happening.

Fear gripped Rogue as she realized that if this pain didn't end soon, her mind would snap completely. Already her thoughts were swirling away from her, gibbering senselessly in panic, making it difficult to focus on anything but the torment being heaped upon her. The multitude of different personalities stored in her brain capered about wildly, threatening to overwhelm her if she let them. Snarling, she bared her teeth but soon felt them crumble to dust in her mouth, replaced by more agony as new ones grew lightening fast, pushing their way brutally past her gums.

This could have been Logan havin' this done to him.

The thought zinged through her brain suddenly, and Rogue clutched at it, desperately holding onto the thought of Logan to pull her through this madness.

At last she stood face to face with Phoenix, feeling her healing factor kick even further into over-drive at the proximity. "Jean," Rogue ground out between clenched teeth. "You have to stop." It was a last ditch effort to reach her, but Rogue already knew that it was pointless. Even if some part of Jean was still in there somewhere, things had gone too far for her to simply 'stop'.

Phoenix was watching her with mild interest, her eyes roving curiously over Rogue's nude form as it mended itself over and over again. "You're in so much pain," she said, her voice both dreadful and powerful at the same time. "Why? Why put yourself through this agony willingly?"

Rogue couldn't answer; all of her concentration was focused on just standing upright against the constant assaults on her over-taxed body. Summoning all her strength, she managed to raise one fist from which three razor sharp bone claws extruded, then watched in agony as they disintegrated in the rising wind. The pain was exquisite, racing up her arm and all the way down to her toes before reaching a fever pitch as they grew back inch by inch.

"For them?" Phoenix continued, sounding genuinely curious. "For the humans who would sooner kill you then acknowledge your existence?"

Panting heavily against the burning in her lungs, Rogue met the black stare and shook her head almost imperceptively. "Not for them," she wheezed. "For him."

Phoenix cocked her head to one side, her face blank for an instant before she began to laugh. "Oh, but it's too much!" she roared, a horrible parody of amusement covering her dark features. "The untouchable girl, in love! Tell me, has the mighty Wolverine returned your feelings?"

Before Rogue could form a reply, Phoenix was suddenly shoving her way into her mind, presenting Rogue with a series of images and words, bringing more pain than anything she had done before.

"I think she's a little taken with you."
"Well, you can tell her my heart belongs to someone else."

"I could be the good guy."

Every caress, every passion-filled look, every stolen kiss that Logan and Jean had ever shared; all were cruelly rammed into Rogue's head as she writhed with the agony of it. Her resolve faltering as her heart splintered, Rogue felt her legs buckle at last and she fell to her knees at Phoenix's feet, feeling utterly broken inside.

"Stupid little girl," the creature hissed savagely, glaring down at Rogue in disgust. "He doesn't love you. You're nothing but a stray he picked up off the street. And you're about to die for a man who cares nothing for you."

Rogue shut her eyes as the hurtful words rang in her ears, believing them to be true. Yet still the spark within her that refused to die suddenly flared, giving her mind a moment of clarity.

No.

Reaching deep into the part of her psyche that the Phoenix couldn't touch, Rogue pushed aside aside all the images of Logan and Jean's embraces. Instead she concentrated on her own memories; remembering the man who fought in a cage at a nowhere bar in Northern Canada, who looked up and saw HER, and accepted her as she was. The man who cradled her lifeless body atop a destroyed statue and prayed to a God he didn't even believe in that she breathe again. Logan, who had one year planted a magnolia tree for her in the garden on the anniversary of the day they met, and never said a word. Rogue clung to it all, remembering every moment they spent together, the tenderness he showed her after her frequent nightmares and most of all, the affectionate smile that he reserved just for her.

"You're wrong."

Phoenix recoiled from these soft words spoken by Rogue, who raised her head the meet the unearthly black eyes. Rising to her feet stalwartly, she held her chin high and said clearly, "He does."

Uncertainty entered Phoenix's eyes at that moment, and she took a small but significant step backwards, repelled by the confidence blazing from the young mutant's fiery green eyes. In that small moment of hesitation, Rogue's hand shot out to wrap itself around the exposed throat of the Phoenix in an unbreakable grip.

"He does," she repeated, and as she felt the awesome power begin to flow into her, she now thrust her precious memories into the other woman's mind, using her own trick against her to show her the strength of Logan's love. Simultaneously, Rogue turned the destructive force that had been battering her body onto her adversary, so it was now Phoenix's skin which burned to ash and flew from her body like so much dust. The only difference was that she didn't possess the ability to regenerate herself.

And for the first time, the Phoenix knew fear.

Logan swam to consciousness slowly, though a part of him wished to remain in the comforting darkness; he was having the nicest dream, where a woman held him close as her intoxicating scent of magnolia and citrus enveloped him.

Marie…

Suddenly his eyes shot open and he groaned loudly as steel barbs of pain dug into his brain, chasing the remnants of the dream away like wisps of smoke. He felt like he was suffering from the worst hangover ever, which was odd because he had never been hung-over before; the only thing that ever made him feel this way was a touch from Rogue, but it couldn’t be that, because Rogue was…

Suddenly Logan remembered everything: the battle on Alcatraz, the final conflict with Magneto, Jean’s reign of destruction and finally Rogue, Rogue kissing him with so much passion before he succumbed to her vampiric power. Jumping to his feet despite the vertigo he felt, Logan looked around wildly, his hazel eyes flashing dangerously.

Storm noticed that he had awoken and watched him warily for a moment before asking softly, “Logan, how are you feeling?”

“Where is she?” he snarled, ignoring her question completely. His blazing eyes finally fell on Alcatraz, and an icy hand gripped his heart at what he saw.

No.

The entire island floated several feet above the water, completely bathed in a glowing white light, making it impossible to see anything concealed within. The surrounding water shot high up into the sky in massive quantities, some of it vaporizing into steam which caused eerie tendrils of fog to drift over the bridge where the X-Men held vigil. Meanwhile, copious amounts of ash drifted from Alcatraz, ash made from human bodies and any other object that had once been on the island, now just meaningless particles floating on the wind.

Logan lurched forward heedlessly, intent on swimming there if he had to, when Beast stopped him by wrapping his strong arms around Logan’s chest, attempting to hold him in place.

“You cannot, my friend!” Hank pleaded, tightening his grip as Logan struggled against him. “It will kill you!”

“Get offa me!” the feral mutant roared, furious at being confined. Swinging his head back, he felt his skull collide solidly with Beast’s nose, who yelped in pain and released him. Again Logan surged forward, but before he could move more than a few feet, Colossus was suddenly there, pinning him in an unbreakable full-Nelson hold as Logan spat and snarled in a berserker rage.

“I gave my word to Rogue that I would keep you safe,” Colossus said fiercely into his ear. “I will not let her down.”

“Let me go!” Logan raged, bucking against the unbreakable arms that held him captive. “I have to get there, I have to-“

“Stop it Wolverine!” Storm screamed suddenly, her eyes glowing white. “Nobody can go there! Look at it! It’s impossible!” Softening her aggressive tone upon seeing the helplessness in her friend’s eyes, she continued, “Rogue wanted you to be safe. She knows what she is doing. All we can do is wait.”

Logan sagged limply against Colossus, hearing the truth in Storm’s words.The two people he cared for the most in this world were on that levitating wasteland, and though every part of him screamed to rush onto Alcatraz, the logical part of his brain knew that it would be futile. Storm was right; they could only wait and watch as the blinding glow that obscured the island burned on and on.

********************

Holding onto the Phoenix, Rogue came to realize, was a lot like holding onto a live wire. The incredible power she possessed threatened to overwhelm Rogue’s mind completely if she allowed it to. Simply filing away this particular psyche was no easy task; indeed it was almost impossible, and Rogue strove valiantly to keep her own identity in check. Meanwhile with every minute that passed, she grew more worried; any other person would be dead from her touch after such prolonged exposure to it, yet Phoenix seemed to have an endless reserve of energy, making Rogue wonder if using her skin on her was the right thing to do.

The body of the Phoenix still burned to cinders, but not nearly fast enough. It took most of Rogue’s energy just to keep her mind from becoming swamped with everything she saw to expend more on trying to destroy her foe's physical body. She had hoped that if she held on for just a bit longer, then maybe Jean would lose consciousness, thus allowing Rogue to finish her at her leisure.

What she had not been anticipating however, was the sheer multitude of data being thrust into her brain. Apparently Phoenix had the ability to see other worlds, countless dimensions and time-lines from the past and future, and as Rogue sucked in her powers, she saw herself in a hundred different lives. In one she was dressed in a skintight yellow and green latex leotard, a brown leather bomber jacket draped over her shoulders while a loose belt with the ‘X’ insignia hung from her curvy hips as she soared high up into a blue sky. She saw a man with unruly auburn hair and strange red-on-black eyes, a man who called her ‘Chere’ and aroused in her a wild yearning, before the image faded away and was replaced by a vision of Xavier’s mansion, ravished by time as it’s foundation sunk into the earth; with horror, she witnessed a squadron of Sentinels flying over a dead city, indiscriminately dropping bombs as mutant children screamed in helpless fear from below; strange names roared through her brain, names and faces she had never heard or seen before but seemed strangely familiar; names like Bishop, the Star Jammers, Destiny, Cable, Mojo, Sinister…some filled her with a warm affection, while others made her tremble in fear of things to come.

The images swirled, faster and faster, making Rogue feel as though her head would simply split open if it didn’t stop soon. It was an information overload, and most of what she saw she was unable to discern what it meant, or was even able to remember it clearly after the image faded, though a part of her wished she could.

~You could see it all,~ Phoenix spoke suddenly from within her mind, clinging to her last ounce of power. ~An infinite realm of possibilities, all at your command. Everything you ever wanted to know, everything you ever wanted to see… I could show you.~

For a moment Rogue faltered as the seductive words bounced in her brain. Boundless knowledge and immeasurable power, both were at her fingertips; she could have it all and more.

Sensing her temptation, Phoenix went on: ~We’re much the same, you and I. Our abilities make us Gods on Earth. My body may die, but I can live on through you, and together, we can rule with ultimate supremacy. And everything you have ever desired can be yours for the taking.~

The offer was alluring, and Rogue fought to resist the urge to give in, to let Phoenix take her over. She felt as though she were walking a tightrope, and if she slipped she would be lost forever in the yawning chasm below, a prisoner in her own mind. With a dawning horror, Rogue realized that Phoenix was hypnotizing her, distracting her in order to take control of her brain. It was her last ditch effort for survival, and living on through Rogue’s body was her only option.

Snapping herself out of the near-trance she was in, Rogue narrowed her green eyes at the black gaze boring into her. “We’re not the same,” she spat aloud, shaking her head to emphasis her point. “Ah can handle mah powers. You’ve let yours destroy ya.”

With that, Rogue raised her fist with her lethal bone claws extended, ready to drive them into her opponent’s chest, only to watch in confusion as the claws slowly receded back into her forearms, leaving three gaping lacerations in their wake. In her stunned disbelief, it took her a moment to realize what had gone wrong.

Logan’s power wore off! She told herself in dismay as wounds and burns that hadn’t had time to fully heal sprung up over her body, while a sudden mind-numbing exhaustion seeped into her very bones, making her thoughts become muddled and slow.

Seeing her chance, Phoenix renewed her efforts to take over the younger woman’s mind, hoping to overcome her stubborn resistance that refused to lie down without a fight. Now it was a battle of wills, and only the stronger of the two would come out on top.

Using the power that she was still siphoning from Phoenix where their bare skin remained in contact, Rogue watched as the creature’s body began to disintegrate in earnest, but there was no triumph that came from this; this was what Phoenix wanted. Her body was beyond saving, but her powerful mind still raged on, intent on taking over Rogue’s body by burying the young woman’s mind beneath her own.

It ain't ever gonna happen Red, Rogue thought, ya may have been too strong fo' Jean to handle, but ah ain't goin' down that easy.

~Rogue.~

The soft voice touched her thoughts like a cool breeze on a scorching day, bringing tears to Rogue’s eyes as she recognized the loving tone while the Phoenix still continued to rail against her.

~Jean? Jean, is it really you?~

~Yes,~ the voice replied, growing stronger. ~Don’t stop Rogue, it’s almost over. You’re winning.~

Rogue tightened her hold on Phoenix’s throat with trembling fingers, Juggernaut’s vast strength long since faded away. She fought against the exhaustion that saturated every part of her being, the day’s events finally catching up to her and making her feel as limp as a wet dishrag. Vaguely she realized that by taking on so much of the Phoenix’s force into her own body, it had given Jean an opportunity to claw back to the surface after being submerged by the indomitable strength of her powers. From firsthand experience, Rogue now knew how easy it was to get lost in them.

~Ah’m tired Jeannie, ah’m so tired,~ she told her friend, fighting to stay upright. A glance down showed her that she and Phoenix were floating dozens of feet above the island as they continued to be locked together in their deadly embrace. ~Ah dunno how much more I have left in me, but ah sure as hell am gonna end this even if it kills me.~

~I can finish it,~ Jean said suddenly, her voice beseeching. ~You’ve fought so hard for so long. Rest now, and give me this last chance, Rogue. There’s something that I have to make right again. Please.~

Rogue knew what was being asked of her and her mind warred with itself; a part of her longed to hand the reins over to Jean, to lay her weary burden down and just rest. The other, much stronger part of her balked at the thought of giving up control, fearful it was a trick, a deception to let her guard down.

Yet her heart told her that this was in fact Jean, who had once been like a sister to her, a close friend and confidante who had made her feel loved and welcomed from just one soft smile. Once upon a time Rogue would have given her life for her; could she now really give up her mind, even if only for a while, to let her be the one to end the madness of Phoenix? To give her a chance for redemption? For a long moment time seemed to stand still, and as Rogue froze in an agony of indecision, Jean spoke to her one last time.

~Will you trust me Rogue?~

When it happened, it happened without warning. One moment Alcatraz was lit up with all the brilliance of a small sun, the next it had simply… stopped. Like a candle that had been abruptly blown out, the island was now blanketed in darkness, and as the X-Men watched with open mouths it dropped from its position in the sky before colliding heavily with the water below. The violent impact caused a tidal wave of water to rush towards the bridge, only to be pushed back by Storm who had taken to the air immediately and summoned a mighty wind to repel the huge wall of liquid threatening to engulf them all. Meanwhile Alcatraz itself remained deathly quiet, the ominous silence deafening in the suddenly still night air.

Logan didn’t remember Colossus’ arms releasing him from their hold; he didn’t remember running for all he was worth, dodging obstacles and leaping over cars in his urgency to reach the foreboding island. His mind was working on auto-pilot, and the only thing he heard was his constant litany of, “Please. Please. Please.”

Reaching the end of the bridge, Logan jumped onto the remains of Alcatraz, vaguely aware of the rest of the team following and fanning out behind him while Storm flew overhead. They all searched with a desperate intensity, though none of them knew what or who they would find in the wreckage.

Water still somehow gushed from the sky in a torrential flood while a thick, oppressive fog swirled around them, masking the figures in black leather that continued their search of the island. Everything appeared out of focus and somewhat sinister, giving the entire situation a nightmarish quality that everyone noticed, but no one mentioned.

Logan ran blindly through the mist and falling water, all his senses dulled by the overpowering scent of burnt rubble and charred human flesh. He could barely see more than a foot in front of him, and he frequently bumped into various objects, making his fear grow with passing moment of silence, until at last he heard Storm calling out, “Logan! Over here!”

The words echoed back to him, and in that moment he was back at Alkali Lake, and Storm’s voice was cutting through the fog, telling him to hurry, hurry, hurry, and when he reached her it would be Jean’s body he saw, Jean who breathed on and survived.

In that endless second as the water from the sky still fell in sheets, as the fog clutched his body with their icy tendrils, Logan realized that he didn’t want it to be Jean. Marie’s face rose up behind his eyes as clearly as if she were standing right in front of him, Marie with her beautiful round green eyes and her wistful smile. As he began to run towards the sound of Storm’s voice, Logan remembered the day they first met, how when he pulled back the tarp on his camper she had raised her head and met his furious gaze head-on. He saw the colour of her eyes clearly for the first time on that snowy road, a deep emerald green with not a hint of blue or any other colour as so many others with green eyes usually had. Her face had been pale and gaunt, while dark circles of weariness and hunger ringed her unique eyes, yet still she was tragically beautiful with the snow falling around her as she hunched against his decrepit motorcycle.

Logan heard her sweetly accented voice calling to him, ‘Ah saved yo’ life.’ He knew now that he had been right when he told her that she didn’t. She hadn’t saved his life that day because at that point Logan didn’t have a life; he had an existence. He had only begun living after he met Marie; the place he called home, the people he considered family, everything was because of her, because for whatever reason, she had chosen him. No, she hadn’t saved his life at all. She had done so much more than that: she had saved his soul. And she continued to save it everyday that she was with him, every time he saw her, with every smile she bestowed on him. She gave him purpose, and she was living evidence that he wasn’t damned, because if this one magnificent person loved everything about him, good and bad both, then maybe he was worth something after all.

Marie didn’t try to look past the animal to see the man within; she embraced it because it was a part of him, and even after seeing all the darkest parts within his fragmented mind, she had never wavered in her affections, loving both the man and beast that he was and never asking him to change a thing.

Just up ahead, Logan could faintly make out Storm’s tall outline as she unclipped her cape from around her shoulders before draping it gently over a naked body that lay on the ground at her feet. Unable to make out who it was, Logan pumped his legs faster, closing the distance between them. In his haste, he never saw the piece of debris that became tangled in his feet, causing him to stumble to his knees just as he was about to reach his destination. His face smacked into the soggy earth, and for the split second that he lay in the mud, he saw a future without Marie; an endless parade of empty days and meaningless motions that would stretch on until the day he died. Because of his mutation, there was no telling how long he could live for, and the prospect of life without her was unbearable, knowing each day would become more pointless and hollow then the last without her by his side. He had survived Jean’s death and his life had carried on as usual, but in that moment it hit him with the force of a gong: to lose Marie would destroy him completely. His body would live on until everyone else around him had turned to dust, but inside he would be dead, a living corpse walking the earth until his time finally came to pass on.

Pulling himself to his feet, Logan staggered the last few yards to where Storm stood just as the rest of the team arrived. He shoved Beast roughly out of the way before falling to his knees beside the naked body lying in the dirt, whose back was facing him. It was clearly a woman, her flawless pale skin marred by numerous bruises and several patches of burnt flesh. The colour of her hair was impossible to determine due to the amount of dirt and water saturating the long strands, and though Logan breathed deeply, Storm’s own smell from her cape covering the body and the sheer amount of overwhelming odours surrounding them hindered him from catching the woman's scent.

Reaching for her shoulder with one shaking glove-covered hand, Logan slowly turned her over, praying to see the much beloved white streaks and delicate china-doll features.

“Please. Please. Please,” he chanted, realizing for the first time that the only occasions he had ever prayed, were always for Marie, for her and her alone. The unmoving body rolled towards him limply, her pulse visibly fluttering beneath the skin on her neck as her face came into view.

Uttering a choked sob, Logan lovingly ran his fingers through the sodden white streaks, now almost grey from the dirt covering them, before stroking Marie’s smooth brow, his eyes drinking her in as his heart hammered in relief. She was alive; unconscious, but alive. Mindful of her injuries, Logan gently scooped her up into his arms, keeping Storm's cape wrapped around her as he whispered, "Don't worry kid. I'm takin' you home now. We're goin' home."

Marie remained motionless in his embrace, yet still the warmth from her body seeped into Logan's heavy bones, giving him hope.

And just like that, she saved him again.

"She's gonna be alright, isn't she?" Logan asked Hank as the furry blue doctor finished applying temporary dressings over Rogue's multiple wounds. The team had reassembled in the Blackbird moments earlier and were waiting for Storm to complete a final overhead sweep of Alcatraz before they could take off. The fact that Phoenix's body had not been found made them all uneasy, leaving them wondering if it was truly over. In the meantime, Logan anxiously hovered over Rogue's body as she lay on a cot while Hank examined her.

Wrapping one more piece of gauze around Rogue's pale hand to cover the three gaping cuts on her knuckles, Hank appeared to not have heard Logan's question as he muttered to himself, "Going to require stitches, most definitely. The burns, now, those must be carefully - "

"Hank!" Logan barked, cutting into his musings. "Is. She. Going. To. Be. Alright?"

The doctor looked up, his blue eyes wide behind his spectacles. Removing his latex gloves as he stepped away from Rogue's side, he heaved a deep sigh and replied, "Physically, yes, she'll be fine in a few days. She has a few minor burns over her body as well as several third-degree burns. It will be painful for her when she wakes up, though it's nothing life-threatening." Pausing, he turned to regard Rogue once more as a perplexed expression crossed his features. "The bruises look nasty but are superficial, while the lacerations on her hand will need stitches. As far as I can determine, she has no internal injuries to speak of, but I'll know more once we get her back to the lab where I can run some tests."

Logan nodded, not moving from Rogue's side as he studied her peaceful face. An ugly bruise bloomed across one high cheekbone and a small patch of burnt skin covered her left temple before disappearing into her hairline; other than these injuries, her features remained the same. He brushed an errant lock of platinum hair from her brow before asking quietly, "So why isn't she awake?"

Hank shook his head. "I don't know. She has no head wounds that I can determine, so she has no physical reason for being unconscious. I'm at a loss as to how - "

Just then Storm entered the jet, cutting Hank off in mid-sentence as the weather goddess went straight to the pilot's seat, her face unreadable. "Buckle up," she said, flipping switches and controls to prepare for take-off. "We're leaving."

Kitty began to help Jimmy fasten his belt from their seats in the far back of the jet where the boy's power couldn't reach the others while she studied Storm's stoic face from the corner of her eye. Finally curiosity got the better of her and she asked, "Did you find anything? Is Phoenix - "

"I don't think we'll be seeing her again," Storm said shortly as the jet rose into the air.

Bobby frowned from his position next to the still unconscious John, puzzlement evident in his clear blue eyes. "How do you know?" he asked. "I mean, did you see her body, or..."

He trailed off as Storm pointed mutely out the windshield of the jet, indicating the spot on the island where Rogue had been found. There on the ground surrounding the area where she had lain was the huge outline of a Phoenix in flight, composed of ashes that still retained their form despite the water falling over it.

"That... that's Jean?" Kitty squeaked in wonder as she gawked out the window at the amazing sight.

"What's left of her," Bobby said slowly. "But how? I mean, unless she turned herself to dust, the only other option is if Rogue touched her and - " Comprehension dawned in his eyes as he realized what happened. "Rogue touched her, then used her power to kill her," he finished in a rush as everyone turned to look expectantly at Rogue who had yet to move a muscle.

Hank nodded, looking as though his worst fears had been confirmed. "Rogue touched her and absorbed her mind into her own."

"And now she's inexplicably unconscious," Kitty added uneasily, her face turning pale at the implications.

A loud snort rang out, and they all turned to see John rubbing his forehead, a disbelieving expression on his face as he caught the last of their conversation. "God, how did I get myself mixed up with you psycho's in the first place?"

Bobby turned to him with a scowl as he raised an ice covered fist threateningly. "Try anything and I'll make that head butt I gave you look like a love tap," he promised while John merely rolled his eyes at him.

"It's less intimidating in a sweat suit, Bobby," he replied, a mocking grin on his face. "What happened to your spiffy leather uniform?"

As his face turned red, Bobby was spared from answering when Piotr gestured towards Rogue whose eyes began moving rapidly back and forth beneath her closed lids while her long black lashes fluttered.

"Well," John stated wryly. "The engine's running."

Piotr nodded sagely before adding, "Yes, but who is behind the review mirror?"

An awkward silence ensued, broken by Kitty who said in a soft voice, "Um, I think you mean 'who's behind the wheel.'"

Looking thoroughly chagrined, Piotr nodded sheepishly as he shuffled his large feet. Meanwhile, Rogue's eyes continued to move to and fro, though the rest of her body lay motionless. The tension in the jet was palpable, as though a bomb was set to explode at any minute, and when John spoke suddenly, everyone jumped.

"Let me see if I have this all lined up: Rogue's alive, but she's probably... what, possessed by that crazy Phoenix broad? And when she wakes up, then what? Is she gonna vaporize us all or something like that?"

Logan growled at his words though they brought a chill up his spine. It was what everyone was thinking, and he himself grew more and more uneasy the longer Rogue remained unconscious. He didn't like the restless way her eyes were moving beneath her lids, as though searching for something.

"Uh, guys?" Storm's worried voice came from the front where she manned the jet, sounding completely unlike her usual cool, aristocratic tone. "We have a bit of a situation here."

Everyone faced her expectantly, waiting to hear what had gone wrong. They watched as she frantically hit buttons and entered numbers into the computer before she turned in her seat to face them, her expression stricken. "I'm not flying the jet! It just... it just stopped and reset it's coordinates and now it's running by itself!"

Hank's jaw dropped in shock as he rushed over to the co-pilot's seat. "What are the coordinates set to now?" he demanded, futilely pushing some more controls and switches before sitting back in defeat.

Storm looked at him with wide frightened eyes, and when she answered him she addressed the whole group. "Alkali Lake."

John began unbuckling his seat belt, cursing under his breath before Bobby finally noticed him. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked just as John leapt to his feet and moved towards Kitty.

He stopped in front of her and glared down at Jimmy. "C'mon Squirt. You got a job to do."

"John!" Storm admonished in a scandalized voice as she continued her struggle with the uncooperative jet.

"What?" he replied not moving his eyes from the small boy he still towered over. "It's what you do, isn't it? Get rid of mutants powers? Get over there beside her and do... whatever it is you do."

Kitty had wrapped a protective arm around the trembling child who shook his head at John's fierce words, his face wan. "I can't," he whispered. "She's too strong. I can feel her. Even from here, I can feel her."

John raked his hands through his hair in disgust, his lips curling into a sneer. "Well that's great. That's just great. So now what? We just...wait?"

Storm sat back in her seat, resignation in her eyes as she half turned to him and replied, "We wait."



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The rest of the flight to Alkali Lake passed in silence as the jet steered itself to it's final destination. Rogue's eyes still continued their constant movements, but beyond that she had yet to move an inch. Logan maintained his vigil by her side, his gloved hand clutching hers while his intense stare never left her face.

"C'mon Kid," he murmured softly, hoping to see any signs of change. "Come back to me. Don't leave me like this." Lowering his voice more so the others couldn't hear, he whispered hoarsely, "Please Marie. I need you."

The feel of the jet beginning its decent jarred him back into his surroundings, and he turned to see the others sitting tensely in their seats as the sound of the landing gear lowering filled the cabin. Moments later they touched the ground lightly, a landing so gentle that not even the most skilled pilot could have achieved it.

"Well, we're here," Storm announced as she unbuckled her seat belt while everyone else followed suit. Rising to their feet, the team collectively peered out the windshield of the jet, seeing nothing but inky darkness. Logan reluctantly joined them, standing by Piotr as they all stared outside expectantly.

John tapped his fingers impatiently against his leg, clearly wishing for his trusty lighter to occupy his restless hands before asking, "So what the hell are we doing here? I don't see a goddamn th-HOLY SHIT!"

His loud exclamation made them all jump in surprise and as one the team turned to see what had made him cry out. The sight that met their eyes gave them all a jolt of shock.

Rogue was awake.

A terse silence filled the jet as the group of assembled mutants watched Rogue warily. Where only moments before she had lain on the cot completely dead to the world, she know stood fully erect on her feet, Storm's cape wrapped around her middle while one small, bandaged hand held it shut modestly in front of her chest. The fact that no one had heard her get up, not even Logan, was truly unsettling to them all. Her skin was luminescent, glowing softly as though the moon itself lay beneath her flesh and despite her many injuries she was still breathtakingly beautiful.

Everyone was still frozen in dumbfounded surprise until Bobby said weakly, "Hey Rogue. Glad you're... up."

Rogue's head cocked to one side like a bird inspecting it's prey, and Bobby had to stifle a scream when her eyes fell on him unseeingly. One was completely black, pupil and all; the eye of the Phoenix. The other was worse in a way. The iris swam with a sickly combination of Rogue's brilliant green and Jean's honey brown, both colours warring with each other as they swirled around and around. Looking into that two-toned eye made Bobby feel as though he had motion sickness, prompting him to drop his gaze to Rogue's feet where her bright blue painted toenails peeped out from beneath the hem of Storm's long cape.

The platinum and sable haired woman still remained stationary, her eerie eyes roving over the X-Men without seeing any of them, and John meekly raised his hand into the air as he murmured, "Any one else here completely freaked out?"

Piotr sheepishly waved his hand above his head, still staring at Rogue in fear as Logan finally found his feet and stepped beside her, one hand cupping her chin gently while she continued to ignore him.

"Rogue," he said, wishing he could use her real name but unwilling to let the others know what it was. That was the one secret he guarded the most above all others. "Rogue darlin', look at me."

Rogue disregarded his words; instead she kept her chilling gaze focused on the hatch of the jet until it suddenly sprang open seemingly on it's own, the ramp lowering to the ground below. Cool air rushed into the cabin, bringing with it the scent of water and trees. Still Rogue didn't move.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Logan added a bit more pressure to his grip under her jaw, giving her head a light shake. "Rogue," he said forcibly. "Talk to me."

When several seconds passed without any sign that she had heard him, he opened his mouth to say her name again when she spoke at last.

"He's here."

Her voice, like her eye, was a strange mix of Rogue's husky tone and Jean's soft one, and though she barely spoke above a whisper, the two words resonated within everyone's head, giving goosebumps to them all from the sheer power in it.

Rogue stepped forward, Logan's hand falling away from her face as she began to walk gracefully down the ramp, leaving the team with the cryptic words still ringing in their ears as they looked at one another in complete bewilderment.

"'He'?" Kitty asked hesitantly. Her voice broke Storm from her paralysis, her face lighting up with hope as she pushed past John.

"Scott?" she said breathlessly while she rushed to the ramp after Rogue who had disappeared into the darkness. "Did she mean that Scott - " Not finishing her sentence, she ran down the ramp with the others hot on her heels.

As they all exited the jet, they saw that Rogue had somehow made it all the way to the end of an outcropping of rocks, her back to them as she she faced the mass of water spread out before her. She stood completely stock-still, the long cape fluttering away from her body and exposing her shapely legs from foot to mid-thigh as the wind gusted, while her skin continued to glow softly in the darkness.

Logan hastened after her, reaching the edge of the outcropping she stood on before he smashed into an invisible barrier that prevented him from going any further. Releasing his claws, he swiped at it ineffectually, a growl bubbling up his throat when nothing happened.

John watched all this from his spot near the jet, feeling deeply curious despite himself. He knew he should escape while everyone else was occupied, yet he couldn't bring himself to leave or tear his eyes away from Rogue. She looked like a goddess standing there by the water, with her magnificent waist length wavy hair dancing in the cold wind as her skin radiated that celestial light. John thought he had loved her once; now as he turned away from her with a heavy heart and loped away unnoticed into the woods, he knew that he still did.

"What the hell is she doing?" Bobby hissed at Kitty, so focused on the pale figure by the water that John never even entered his thoughts.

"How should I know?" Kitty snapped back, craning her neck to see past Logan's broad back. Just then the previously serene water in front of Rogue began to bubble, softly at first before roiling violently, shooting streams of liquid into the air while Rogue's softly glowing skin suddenly blazed with a white light that made everyone watching avert their eyes from its brilliance. Within seconds the light had spread out, completely concealing Rogue and leaving the X-Men in the dark yet again.

"Damnit!" Logan howled, beating his fists impotently against the barrier separating them. Despite the pain it caused in his eyes, he continued to to stare into the light as it grew brighter and brighter. He thought his vision must be playing tricks on him, because for a moment he thought he had seen the outline of a man standing there with Rogue.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



The first thing Scott saw when he opened his eyes were his hands splayed against some sort of slippery rock that he was apparently kneeling on. He felt odd, somewhat disjointed; he usually felt like this after a particularly deep sleep, when it would take him several minutes to even remember what planet he was on. He wondered why his clothes were dry when he was obviously near a body of water, disregarding the thought completely once he realized that he wasn't wearing his visor or glasses. Hastily shutting his eyes, he remembered that they had been open seconds earlier and nothing had happened. He Experimentally cracked open one lid and when his customary eye beams didn't shoot out, he opened the other one as well. He sensed movement just out of his line of sight and quickly looked up to see Jean's smiling face beaming down at him.

"Hello Scott," she said, her voice warming his heart as it always did.

Pulling himself to his feet, he stared at her in confusion. It was Jean, of that he had no doubt, but something strange was going on. Why was she naked but for what appeared to be Storm's cape wrapped around her middle like a towel? For that matter, where were they? He saw rocks, trees and water, but not much else. More disquieting yet, Scott couldn't even remember how he had gotten there in the first place.

Brushing the questions away for the moment, he stared deeply into Jean's loving eyes as he raised a hand to stroke her soft cheek. "Jean?" he whispered, revelling in the feeling of the warmth from her skin seeping into his cold fingers. "What's happening? I feel like I haven't seen you in years. I... I can't remember..." Trailing off, Scott searched his memory; they had taken the children on a field trip to the museum and over the news they heard that a mutant had attacked the president. He and the Professor were supposed to go see Magneto in prison, but then-

"Shhhh," Jean said as though he had spoken aloud, gently pressing her fingers against his lips. "Don't think about it now. You're here, and we're together."

Scott kissed her fingertips as she continued to caress his lips, his eyes drinking her in worshipfully until he noticed all the injuries on her body that the cape didn't cover. "Jean!" he cried out in worry, tentatively reaching out to her arm where a gauze dressing was wrapped around one slim bicep.

Jean removed her hand from his lips and placed it behind his neck, drawing him closer until their faces almost touched. Scott met her adoring gaze as she looked deeply into his eyes, a touch of sorrow creeping into her features. "Close your eyes," she told him, nodding reassuringly as he frowned in confusion.

Slowly, trustingly, Scott closed his eyes, feeling Jean's fingertips ghost across his closed lids, feeling her breath mingling with his. "I love you ,Scott. Forever and ever," she whispered. "Please forgive me." With those final words, she kissed him.


And showed him everything.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Logan didn't notice that the invisible barrier holding them all back had vanished in the instant that the blinding glow faded. He could only stand and gape in disbelief at the sight that greeted his eyes; Rogue was still standing the same same spot that they had seen her last, but now she was no longer alone. Scott was with her and their arms were wrapped around each other in a lovers embrace as they kissed passionately. Logan wasn't sure what jarred him the most: the fact that Scott was alive, the fact that he was touching Rogue's bare skin without passing out, or the sheer fact that he was kissing her at all. Either way, the combination of all three left his head spinning and rendered him paralysed with an unexpected feeling of intense jealousy. As the last of the light faded from Rogue's skin, she collapsed in Scott's arms, who lowered them both to the ground and cradled her in his lap as his head bowed over her body.

Storm soared into the sky, tears of happiness streaming down her face as she flew to them while the other hurried to catch up. Logan however, still remained frozen as he watched Scott's shoulders jerk with his sobs, his hands now carefully avoiding Rogue's exposed flesh.

Storm stepped beside him, her hand hovering over his heaving shoulder before grasping it tightly. "Scott?" she said softly, afraid it was a dream.

"Hey Storm," he choked out, not raising his head. "Got any of my spare glasses on you by any chance?"

"On the jet," she replied eagerly. "We have... we have... Scott how can this be?" The last words came in a rush; clearly she was having a hard time comprehending what had happened or more importantly, how it happened.

Scott finally rose to his feet, his face set in it's usual Fearless Leader expression though his eyes remained tightly squinched shut as he held Rogue bridal style in his arms. "Jean," he replied simply. "Jean did it."

Logan finally broke out of his shock and moved forward to take Rogue from Scott's arms, barely restraining the urge to growl warningly at the other man before he noticed with dismay that she was unconscious yet again. Shooting a glance a Scott who was leaning on Storm as they walked back to the jet, he said grudgingly, "I'm glad you're ok Cyke."

Scott nodded in acknowledgment, and Logan realized that he really was glad he was back. Most people thought the two men couldn't stand each other, but the truth was that they we're closer than anyone imagined. If Wolverine was capable of having a 'buddy', Scott was it.

"Hey where's John?" Bobby asked, peering around the woods as though expecting his old friend to leap out from behind a tree.

"He's escaped!" Piotr said indignantly while Bobby just shrugged carelessly.

"Ah, let him go. I'd like to see what he's gonna do in these colds woods without his light," he said, a wicked grin on his normally sweet features as he produced John's trademark lighter from the pocket of his sweats, turning it over in his hands.

Storm kept her hand fastened around Scott's arm, as though frightened that if she let go he would vanish. Suddenly she remembered something, but hesitated, unsure how to proceed. "Scott," she began slowly, worried what his reaction to her words might be. "Jean...and Charles... they're both - "

"I know Storm," he replied before she could finish. "Jean told me. Showed me," he amended. "I know everything."

"How?" Kitty asked with a frown as they all began their ascent up the Blackbird's ramp.

Scott hesitated before replying delicately, "After the Phoenix was destroyed, Rogue let Jean... take over. Temporarily. So she could give her the chance to... to..."

"To say goodbye?" Piotr supplied when he trailed off. Scott nodded, smiling weakly in gratitude before his face fell again.

"She's gone now. Forever. It's over."

"And Rogue?" Logan demanded harshly. "Where's she left in all of this?"

Kitty silently handed Scott his spare visor which he slid on slowly before answering. "She'll be fine. Apparently she's had a very long day, so she's... well,I guess you could say resting. But when she wakes up in a few hours she'll be back to her old self. No one's in there with her anymore."

Storm began asking Scott about his miraculous return when they all thought he had been rendered to dust like the Professor, but Logan barely heard his reply about some ball of energy that Jean had put him into to protect him; he had already heard everything he needed to. Marie was going to be fine, and everything could go back to normal. He stared down at her face still nestled against his chest as he held her, a face that suddenly look impossibly young, and felt his heart wrench in his chest as he realized that things couldn't go back to normal, not for the two of them. Because now, everything had changed.

Rogue smiled with pleasure as the hot sun beat down upon her upturned face, enjoying the way the bright light shone through her closed eyelids. The fresh scent of pine and the rich smell of the marshy soil teased her nose with their familiarity. Nearby she could her the river burbling, almost sounding like a gurgling chuckle and a sigh escaped her lips; she was home.

"It's beautiful here Rogue," Charles said truthfully and Rogue opened her eyes to peer up at him. He sat on a large boulder overlooking the river, his blue eyes drinking in the sights of the heavy growth of vegetation around them and the large body of water stretching out before them as the sun slowly began it's decent in the sky. In the distance a whippoorwill awaiting the oncoming night let loose its mournful cry while a playful breeze rustled the leaves in the trees, causing a handful of small flowers from a tupelo tree to scatter on the ground where Rogue sat.

"Ain't it though? Mos' folks think of a swamp as a bad thing, somethin' ugly. Nobody really sees how amazin' it is in it's own way." Rogue replied, a fond smile curving her lips as she surveyed the tranquility of the place surrounding her. "When ah was growin' up, ah actually made that ol' beaten path behind us from all the times ah use to come out here to get away."

At Charles' curious look, she shrugged nonchalantly and continued easily, "See, one day when ah was little girl and mah Daddy was in one o' his tempers, ah made the mistake o' makin' too much noise while he was takin' a nap." At this, Rogue paused momentarily, a bitter look entering her far away eyes. Charles saw it and immediately reached for her hand, grasping it tightly in his own as Rogue went on.

"Anyway, ah got a nasty lickin' for that, so ah jus'... ran. Ah ran into the woods and kept on goin', an' didn't stop til ah got here. Ah was so tired an' sore that ah just collapsed. Ah had never felt so sorry fo' mahself, but once ah lifted mah head an' looked aroun', it was jus' so pretty here ah forgot ah wanted to cry. Ever since then, every time ah was feelin' blue or jus' wanted to daydream, ah would come here."

Charles nodded in understanding though his blue eyes were sad. "You've had a hard time in life, haven't you?" he ask, going on before she could reply. "I wish I could have been there for you somehow. Your father..."

"It doesn't matter anymore," Rogue quickly interjected, seeing the anger in his eyes as he contemplated her childhood. "Blood doesn't make a family. Love does. Ah learned that when you an' the others took me in."

Drawing in a deep breath, Charles gave her hand another squeeze before a teasing light entered his eyes as he studied the majestic scenery around them once more. "So this is where your mind would go to during every one of your classes with me. Honestly, were my lectures so boring?"

"O' course not!" Rogue laughingly protested. "It's jus' after Erik, ah pretty much knew everything ya taught. Also if ah got too absorbed in what ya were sayin', sometime's ol' Buckethead would get get a little restless. Seems y'all have some differin' views on certain things." She shrugged, batting her eyelashes innocently at him. "Guess ah didn't wanna make a scene in the classroom. Y'know, start screamin' atcha an' whatnot."

Charles laughed softly and placed one hand over her head as she leaned against his legs from where she sat on the ground next to him. A part of her worried that she would ruin her pretty yellow dress from the marshy floor, but mostly she just couldn't bring herself to care. Momma always said ah was givin' her grey hairs from the amount o' dresses ah'd ruined from playin' in the mud. Guess some things never change, Rogue thought in amusement while the sun painted the sky with a multitude of brilliant shades of scarlet. Everything was so perfect, so peaceful; she never wanted the moment to end.

"Thank you for sharing this with me Rogue," Charles spoke suddenly, looking down to meet Rogue's eyes. "I know you value your secrets and guard them carefully. Allowing me to see this... I'm honoured."

Rogue blushed as she toyed with a leaf, touched that he appreciated it so much. Clearing her throat, she dropped the now-mangled leaf and pointed to a stout tree a bit further up the river bank. "See that ol' oak tree down yonder?" she asked while Charles nodded affirmatively. "Me an' Cody, we used to - "

"Cody and I," he corrected absent-mindedly with the air of long habit.

"Cody an' ah, Professor," Rogue continued, a playful look in her eyes while Charles merely smiled indulgently at her snarky tone. "We used to have a rope hung on that big branch over the water, that ya could swing on then let go once you're in the right spot." She laughed nostalgically. "Cody would get me so darn mad! Ah'd go on it an' he'd be yellin' at me, 'girl, whatcha doin' on that rope? That there's a boy's rope!' An' ah'd holler right back at him, 'no it ain't Cody! This is a girl's rope jus' as much as a boy's!' We always used to fight like an ol' married couple, even when we was jus' bitin' ankles."

Charles laughed along with her for a few moments, before he sighed regretfully as he lightly tapped the top of Rogue's head with a milkweed flower. She looked up at him, her happy smile falling from her face when she saw his expression. Seeing her questioning stare, he told her simply, "It's time for you to go back now."

Rogue quickly looked down at her knees; she had known this was coming, but it still hurt. "Ah don't wanna leave ya," she mumbled, fighting the tears that were already welling in her eyes even as she rose to her feet.

Charles remained seated on the boulder and he raised one hand to flick a tear from her cheek. "We'll see each other again," he promised earnestly. "You may not recognize me, not at first. But you'll know me."

"How?" Rogue cried out in distress, worried that he was wrong, that she wouldn't know him while Charles laughed at her worry as he gave her a gentle push towards the well-worn footpath that lead out of the woods.

"You'll know," he replied, staring at her fondly as she walked backwards, unable to turn away from him yet. "Go on now. Our time has reached an end, and the others are waiting for you."



Rogue hesitated at the foot of the path, a question dancing on the tip of her tongue before she finally blurted out, "Do...do ah make ya proud Charles?"

His familiar blue eyes bored into hers as she stood trembling in the dying sunlight, needing his love and approval so much but so scared that she fell short. An image of her real father entered her eyes, with his braying voice and heavy fists; he had never been proud of her. Had never even wanted her.

Charles smiled at her then, a warm and loving smile that answered her question before he even opened his mouth.

"Always, my Rogue. Always."





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Rogue awoke to the persistent beep of a heart monitor and a raging thirst. Keeping her eyes closed, she drew in a deep breath and took note of her surroundings: scratchy linen: check. Flat as a flapjack pillow: check. Rock hard bed: check. Cloying medicinal smell: double check. No doubt about it; she was in the Med-Bay.

A memory of her dream surfaced in her mind, bringing her a moment of happiness, before it began to recede again, leaving her clutching at desperately, wanting to remember the wonderful memory, but it was too late. Already the details became fuzzy and blurred, like smoke blowing away on the wind leaving Rogue desolate as she remembered that the Professor was gone for good.

Groaning softly at the pain in her body, she finally opened her eyes, only to meet the worried face of Scott as he sat by her bedside. A hard lump came to her throat and she immediately turned away from him, the memories of Alcatraz rising to the forefront of her brain and making her cringe in shame.

"Hey," Scott said worriedly. "Rogue, what's wrong?"

Swallowing harshly, she replied, "Ah'm sorry Scott, but ah just can't look at you. After what ah did, after ah kill - "

With a gloved hand, Scott reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his face. "Don't. Don't do this to yourself Rogue," he said fiercely. "I know what you did, and I know you did what you had to do. There was no other way." He smiled at her crookedly, a pained look on his features. "Thank you. For letting me... see her one last time."

Rogue nodded, though her eyes continued to burn. She knew that ultimately, killing Phoenix was her only option; it didn't ease her guilty conscience much though when she knew by doing that she had killed Scott's true love at the same time. Rogue had known that Scott was alive; Jean had told her everything during the flight to Alkali lake, and Rogue had been glad to help her friend, although she had been dreading this moment of facing Scott again. She had thought he would be angry,but instead he understood and forgave her. Now it was Logan's wrath she feared.

Not wanting him to see her unease, Rogue casually asked, "Is Logan alright after ah took his powers? After Alcatraz, everything's a blank, so ah don't know if he..." She trailed off as she watched Scott's face fall before he carefully avoiding looking at her face. Suddenly she wondered why he was here with her and not Logan. Even if he had been furious with her, he still would have sat with her until she woke up, at the very least just to chew her out once she was coherent enough to hear him.

Scott's silence stretched out until he finally ground out between clenched teeth, "Logan's not here. He... left right after the jet landed."

A roar filled Rogue's mind at these words and she dug her nails into her palms to keep from crying out in pain. Logan hadn't even waited to see if she would be alright; with horror she saw that it was worse than she thought. Logan wasn't mad at her; he hated her. Not for stealing his powers, no, Rogue knew it was more than that. She had killed Jean, the woman he loved. Perhaps now he couldn't even bear to look at her, let alone be around her. Why else would he take off right away?

"I'm sorry," Scott whispered, seeing past her stony expression to the agony within.

Rogue shrugged airily, trying her best to appear nonchalant. "It's OK," she told him. "Ah guess ah'm still a bit tired. D'ya mind -"

Scott quickly rose to his feet, an apologetic look on his face. "Of course. I'll let Hank know you were awake but wanted to sleep some more."

Rogue smiled in thanks and made a show of closing her eyes, tugging the thin blanket higher up her chest and wrapping it tightly against her. She heard Scott's soft footsteps heading to the exit before the doors swished open then closed slilently behind him. Once he was gone, Rogue felt her dam break. For the first time since Jean's body was discovered at Alkali lake, since all the death and carnage began, she finally allowed herself to cry.

She cried for the loss of Charles and Jean, two wonderful people who had made her feel loved. Her dream was now nothing but a jumbled blur in her thoughts, making her feel her loss twice as much. She cried for Logan and Scott, both of whom lost their true love. And finally, she cried for herself; for that long ago girl who had never seen snow and dreamed of going to Alaska to have an adventure, and for Rogue, who knew that even if she could control her skin, a part of her would always remain untouchable; the part of her that belonged to Logan.

Well Kid, we were looking for an adventure, she thought to herself as she continued to cry desolately. We certainly found it.

Logan remained seated on his motorcycle while his eyes took in the sight before him. What had once been a rowdy bar was now barely a ghost of its former self. The neon sign that had hung above the entrance proclaiming ‘Lion’s Den Bar & Grill’ was now noticeably absent, while all the windows were either smashed or boarded up. Combined with the building's structural damage, it now looked more like somewhere a snuff film would be shot than a place you would go for a drink.

A cold wind ruffled Logan’s dark hair as a maelstrom of snow flew around his body, prompting him to leave his bike and head for the relative protection of the decrepit bar. It wasn’t just the elements that carried his feet to the entrance; ever since leaving the school, he had been compelled to come here, to stand in the place where he and Rogue had first met. During his long trip from New York to Laughlin, he hadn’t allowed himself to think of her and his conflicting emotions regarding their tumultuous relationship. The past several weeks he had spent traveling had been strictly reserved for thinking about Jean and the things about her that had drew him to her and made him love her. Now that she was irrevocably gone, he found that he could be brutally honest with himself and admit that he never really knew Jean at all. She had reminded him of someone that he knew from long ago, from a past he couldn't remember, and though the feelings he had had for her had been very real, he saw now there was no sustenance to them. He had been so fixated on the past that he never even saw what was around him in the present; now that he had arrived at the place where it had all started, it was time to settle in for some serious thinking about the platinum and chestnut haired woman who claimed his every waking thought. He had hated to leave her while she was still unconscious, but Hank had assured him that she was going to be fine; trusting the blue doctor, he had fled as quickly as possible, not trusting himself to be around her while his head and heart were in such an uproar.

Reaching the door, he pulled it open, wincing at the rusty hinges that squealed loudly in protest before he stepped inside. The interior wasn’t much more aesthetically pleasing than outside, but then again, the bar hadn’t been made for ambiance. Aside from the distinct lack of people and the thick layer of dust covering every surface, it still looked pretty much the same as he remembered it. The dirty, cracked floor was still littered with sawdust and the massive chain-link cage set in the middle of the room was the same as ever. Logan stared at it for a long time, the sight of it bringing back so many memories. Remembering standing within it as his eyes roved defiantly over the sea of jeering faces until his hot gaze fell on a lone figure in a dark cloak; a figure whose shadowy face wasn’t calling for his blood but instead seemed to… what? For years now Logan had always wondered what that look on Rogue’s face meant when their eyes had first met, with him in the cage and her almost lost within the mob she was crushed into.

Taking a step forwards, he paused and breathed in deeply while a smirk crossed his lips; he wasn’t alone. Moments later he felt the barrel of a shotgun pressing against the back of his head and his grin widened. Déjà vu anyone? he thought as he recognized the person’s scent.

“I told you punks what would happen the next time you came around here to do more damage,” the voice behind him snarled furiously. “Now turn around, nice and slow.”

Raising his hands complacently, Logan slowly turned to face the man, whose eyes widened in shock and recognition upon seeing him while his jaw dropped several inches. “Goddamn,” he whispered.

Logan raised an eyebrow at the shotgun still aimed at his head. “You gonna keep pointin’ that thing at me, or am I gonna have to slice it in half again?” he demanded.

The old bartender’s eyes dropped to the gun as though surprised to find it in his hands. Slowly he lowered the weapon so the muzzle pointed to the ground though he continued to watch Logan warily. "Wolverine," he said. "If you're looking for a cage fight, you're in the wrong bar."

"Yeah, I noticed," Logan replied, peering around the dim interior once more. "Looks to me like you need to fire your cleaning lady."

The bartender snorted loudly as he placed the shotgun on a nearby table. "Want a drink?" he asked, already turning to the bar before Logan could answer. "I still keep a few bottles back here. Scotch alright?"

Logan grunted an inaudible reply as he followed behind him and sat himself on a stool at the counter while the old man poured two shots of scotch. Filling them to the brim, he handed an overflowing glass to Logan, keeping one for himself as he leaned comfortably against the worn counter.

Logan held his glass in his hand as he studied the amber liquid. "I'm surprised you'd want to have a drink with me, considering our last meeting."

The bartender shrugged his large shoulders and said, "Don't get much company out here these days. Unless you count the bastards who come by to wreck the place some more." He emptied the contents of his glass into his mouth, already reaching to pour another before he had even swallowed. "Name's Joe, by the way."

Logan was taken aback when the old man stuck out his liver spotted hand for a shake and he hesitated a moment before taking it in his own and giving it a few pumps while he simply said, "Logan."

Downing his own drink, he waited until Joe refilled it before asking, "So what the hell happened here anyway? Last time I was here, business was good."

Joe gulped back his third shot while he eyed Logan speculatively, clearly debating what he should say. Finally he drew in a deep breath and said, "Few years back my grandson, Spencer... he turned into a mutant."

Logan raised his eyebrow at the man's choice of words. Seeing it, Joe hastily rushed on, "Well, you know what I mean. For twelve years, he's a normal kid then one day he starts shooting these... blasts of some kind from his fingertips. He never tried to hurt anyone, he just... had a hard time controlling it sometimes." He paused to refill both glasses before continuing, "This is a small town and word gets around fast. People around here, they're not too tolerant of mutants. Christ, you know what I mean; look at they way they reacted to you... the way I did."

Logan nodded, remembering all too clearly the fear and disgust in everyone's face when he let his claws out after that hot-head tried to stick him with a knife. Not everyone though, he thought, Rogue's face dancing behind his eyes. She was never afraid or disgusted.

"Anyway," Joe went on, jerking Logan from the past. ""Things went downhill after that. People started harassing the family, me included, calling the house late at night, threatening them then hanging up, petty vandalism, stuff like that. My son finally had to take Spencer and the rest of the family out of here after someone nearly beat his wife to death. Told her it was for bringing a mutie into the world." Pain was in his voice as he spoke while his hands trembled slightly around his glass. "My son wanted me to go with them, but I wouldn't leave. This bar is my home and it's all I got. I'll be damned if I'm gonna be chased out by some ignorant hicks."

Logan smirked at him, finding the whole thing incredibly ironic. "It puts a whole different spin on things, doesn't it?" he asked. "When someone you love turns out to be one of the freaks you hate."

Joe hung his head in shame, unable to meet the other man's eyes as he spoke in a low voice. "After I saw everything that Spencer went through, the things people said and did to him once they knew what he was... I thought about you, the way I treated you. I've done a lot of things in my life that I'm not proud of; I'm glad that now I got the chance to apologize for one of them."

Logan was surprised to find himself somewhat touched by the man's words and the sincerity in his tone. "Don't worry about it," he said gruffly. "I've been called worse things then a freak in my lifetime."

Joe chuckled softly and raised the now half-empty bottle of scotch in a silent question while Logan gestured to his empty glass affirmatively. Pouring them both another round, Joe frowned as he took a small sip from his glass, his eyes distant. "Do you remember the girl?" he asked suddenly, causing Logan to jerk in shock, a bit of his drink sloshing out onto his hand from the action. He had just been staring at the stool where Rogue had once sat all those years ago, hunched within her voluminous coat as she nursed a glass of water and stared at him from the corner of her eye.

"The girl?" he asked blankly while Joe nodded.

"Yeah. Pretty little thing. Huge eyes, dark hair. She warned you about the nut with the blade?"

Logan nodded, hastily gulping back his drink and reaching for another as Joe continued. "That's another thing I'm not proud of. Poor girl looked half starved, obviously had no money and I couldn't even be bothered to offer her a bowl of pretzels or a cup of coffee. Think I even insinuated that she was going to rob my tip jar."

Once again Logan's eyes were drawn back to that stool, visualizing Rogue sitting there starving while he was polishing off a steak dinner with all the trimmings before heading to the bar for a beer. At the time he didn't know that she had been seated there. Had he known, would he still have sat there? He honestly didn't know. She had made him nervous with her tragic eyes and inscrutable expression; a haunted woman-child who showed no fear of him, the first person he had encountered who he couldn't get a clear read from.

"She had the most beautiful eyes," Joe was saying, his slightly slurred voice bringing Logan back to the present. "Greenest eyes I've ever seen. My father was a born and raised Irishman and he always told me that the Irish lasses had eyes greener than anywhere else. Was she Irish, d'ya think?"

"Southern," Logan replied automatically. "From Mississippi."

Joe paused with his drink raised halfway to his mouth before he lowered it again, an inquisitive expression on his wizened face. "Now how do you know that?" he asked curiously.

"I gave her a ride," Logan said evasively. His nostrils flared at a shift in the old man's scent and he looked up at Joe's alarmed expression as a growl rumbled threateningly in his chest. "I didn't do anything with her." he ground out, sensing the turn the bartender's thoughts had taken.

Joe nodded, an embarrassed look in his eyes. "Yeah, you don't seem like the type who would. Still, if you've been around as long as me you'll know there's plenty of sick fucks in this world. A guy like you could put some serious hurt on a little girl like that and you wouldn't even have to try."

His choice of words left Logan unsettled. Of course he had never physically hurt Rogue, aside from the stabbing her in the chest episode, but hadn't her hurt her in so many other ways? He remembered the night about two years ago when she told him that she loved him and his first words to her had been, 'I don't.' He had quickly explained that he meant that he didn't love her in that way, not as a lover, but the damage had already been done. She had been quick to recover from the rebuff, brushing it off and claiming that everything was alright, but he had seen something in her eyes die that night. Their friendship had continued on as usual, both of them pretending nothing had happened, but every now and then he would catch her looking at him with that dead look in her eyes.

"What was her name? Did she tell you?" Joe asked him now, and Logan took a long time before answering. Rogue's real name was something nobody knew, not even Charles, and he saw that he liked it that way; it was his and his alone to know. Yet a sudden urge to let someone else hear it filled him, the urge to let someone else know that once upon a time that girl from Mississippi had existed and he heard his voice say, "Anna Marie."

Rogue had once mentioned to him in an off-hand way that that was her full name, but the only person who ever called her that had been her mother; after she died and her father remarried, the first name was mostly forgotten. This was the first time Logan had ever said both names aloud and he discovered that he enjoyed the sound of it.

"It's a nice name," Joe said. "When me and my wife were about to have our firstborn, she made me spend hours going through baby name books, finding the meaning to each and every one, both male and female. Now let's see if I remember..." he trailed off in thought, sipping his drink slowly while Logan looked on in amusement. "Anna means gracious and Marie...means bitter."

Logan barked out a laugh when Joe finished talking. Gracious and bitter certainly fit her to a T, he thought, considering Rogue's kind nature combined with her paradoxically cynical attitude towards life. But then, that was what made her interesting and always kept him guessing; she was the most contradictory woman he had ever met.

Joe's eyes had grown a bit misty as he poured himself another jigger of scotch and took a healthy swallow before saying softly, "When I was a young man, I had a girl named Marie. Never loved someone so much before or since."

"What happened to her?" Logan asked, surprised to find that he was genuinely interested.

"I knocked up another woman," Joe replied bluntly. "I was a stupid kid who made a mistake, and I paid for it. Times were different then, I had to marry the other girl. And Marie...she was devastated. I never saw or heard from her again."

"You still think about her?" Logan demanded, watching as the old bartender tiredly scrubbed a hand across his grizzled face.

"Every day," he said softly. "And everyday I regret... God, so many things. She was the best thing to ever happen to me and I lost her because of my foolishness."

Logan refilled their glasses for the last time, draining the bottle of its contents before he raised his glass in a toast. "To Marie."

Joe smiled weakly as he raised his own glass and touched it to Logan's. "To both of them."



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



The next night when Logan pulled up to the old bar, he was greeted with the sight of flashing red lights from an ambulance parked near the entrance while a crown of rubberneckers looked on in excitement. Parking his bike, he hurried to the closest person and asked, "What's going on?"

The man, a tall overweight fellow wearing a trucker's hat replied enthusiastically, "Joe's dropped dead. That old bartender? Had a heart attack right there at the bar. Some salesman looking for directions heard him tip over and called for help. They're gonna be wheeling him out soon."

As if on cue, a stretcher was rolled out by two paramedics, neither of them moving very quickly as it was apparent that Joe was in no rush; a white sheet covered him from head to toe, completely obscuring his face and body while one hand still clenched in a fist dangled lifelessly from the side.

As Logan watched, he saw something flutter from that hand to land in the snow and he moved quickly to pick it up before the rising wind could blow it away. In the dim light he saw that it was a photograph of a pretty blonde girl who couldn't have been more than eighteen, frolicking on a beach in an old-fashioned swimsuit. Turning it over in his hand, he read the faint inscription written on the back in spidery handwriting: Marie, June '59

Logan stood in the snowy parking lot as the ambulance pulled away silently, staring at the faded picture still clutched in his hand. He idly wondered if there was some significance to the fact that the first person that he had told Rogue's real name to had died less than twenty-four hours later, but he brushed the thought away. He was surprised at the unexpected wave of sympathy that washed over him for Joe who had died thinking of his lost love.

Absentmindedly tucking the photo into his pocket, Logan turned heel and leapt on his bike, revving the engine loudly before roaring out of the parking lot at high speeds. He had come here for answers, to sort out his feelings for Rogue. Instead he learned that he could waste a lifetime trying to put a label on everything he felt for her and still have no clue what it meant. His feelings were too deep, too big, too all-encompassing to simply be called love or lust or friendship; they always had been when it came to her. He didn't want to end up like Joe, alone with nothing but regrets and the knowledge that he lost the greatest thing he had; and as he drove away from the place where it had all began, Logan knew now that all he wanted was Marie.

Rogue strummed idly on her guitar as she sat beneath the large flowering magnolia tree in Storm’s lavish garden, occasionally singing along with the small radio beside her on the grass. The night air was cool against her skin, almost uncomfortably so, but she wanted to enjoy the beauty of the garden before the oncoming winter arrived. The plants clung tenaciously to life despite the frequent cold snaps they had been having in the past few weeks, and Rogue admired their hardiness, their ability to endure.

With a sigh she broke off a flower from a night-blooming jasmine bush, breathing in its intoxicating aroma before absently tucking the white flower into her thick hair behind one ear. Ya gotta get a haircut, she told herself sternly, fingering the long silky strands that reached her hips. It hadn’t been that length since she had first arrived at the mansion. During her eight months on the road there hadn’t been much of an opportunity or necessity for hair maintenance and as a result it had grown like a weed, the thick mass of waves and curls tumbling down her back like a waterfall. Now years later it had reached that stage again, yet she was loathe to shear it off; Logan had once told her he preferred her hair long and untamed like that, saying that it made her look like a wild-flower.

With an angry scowl, Rogue flopped onto her back on the cool grass and gazed up at the stars, upset that once again her thoughts had turned to Logan. Everyday of the past seven weeks that he had been gone she had carefully conditioned herself not to think of him; she accepted that he couldn’t forgive her for what she had done and she knew that if she could do it over, she wouldn’t change a thing. It was better for him to hate her than to turn that hate inwards onto himself; it had been her sacrifice for him so he wouldn’t be the one with Jean’s blood on his hands and she didn’t regret her actions. She had told herself that she would pay any price to keep him from pain, and if this was the cost of her decision, then so be it. It still hurt though. It hurt a lot.

Now, seven weeks later, Rogue had learned to shut down her heart where Logan was concerned. The love she felt for him was carefully put in a box and locked away within her, never to be taken out again. After Scott had told her that he was gone she had allowed herself the luxury of tears that one time but after that, never again. Love, she had decided, was not for her. Oh, she still loved her friends that she considered family, but romantic love was best left for others who weren’t named Rogue. She had now reached the point where thinking about him didn’t leave her heart bleeding and raw; now when he crossed her mind she only felt numb and if any of her old emotions came up, she would force them back into their box. After learning to control her skin, she now controlled her love for him in the same way: she simply shut it off.

She continued to lie there on the grass while the radio softly played on into the night and when she heard soft footsteps approaching she didn’t bother to look around, assuming that it was Storm coming to tell her to get inside or put on a sweater before she caught a cold. But it wasn’t Storm’s voice that spoke; it was Logan’s.

“Hey kid.”

Rogue quickly rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her hands to see him standing several feet away as he peered down at her. She rose gracefully to her feet, unconsciously smoothing down her long peasant skirt and tugging the hem of her tank top back into place before forcing her hands to remain at her sides.

“Hey,” she replied, pleased that her voice didn’t tremble. “You’re back.”

Logan said nothing; instead his burning eyes scanned her body from head to toe until finally Rogue could bear the scrutiny no longer and blurted out, “See somethin’ green?”

“You’ve let your hair grow longer,” he said, sounding as though he had been caught off guard while he shifted restlessly on his feet.

“Yeah,” she agreed slowly. “Hair tends to do that sometimes.”

He jerked his eyes back to hers at her defensive tone as an awkward silence filled the air. “I just meant… it looks the way it did when we first met. Only now you have the streaks.”

Rogue nodded, trying to appear calm while inside she was a mass of confusion. Why was he acting like this? Where were the angry words, the accusations and fierce glares? He certainly wasn’t acting like he hated her; if anything he seemed to be almost apprehensive about something. Assuming it was the calm before the storm, she said, “Ah didn’t hear ya pull up. Didn’t ya take the bike?”

“Had an accident,” he replied shortly, still not moving any closer to her as they stood awkwardly across from one another with about ten feet of grass between their bodies. Crickets chirped in the background while the radio played on before he finally blurted out, “We need to talk. I need to talk, I guess.”

“Oh,” Rogue said in a small voice as her stomach dropped to her toes. This was it, the thing she had been dreading; it was one thing to know he hated her, but to hear him say it now would be excruciating. Remembering the past several weeks she had just spent closing off her feelings, she sternly reminded herself that she didn’t need love and quickly cut him off before he could speak again. “Ah know what yo’ gonna say, an’ ah’m sorry ah – “

“I love you.”

The words hit her with all the impact of a speeding truck and it took her several seconds to process what he had just said. Through numb lips she heard herself mumble, “OK, maybe ah didn’t know what ya were gonna say…”

Logan moved towards her with one hand outstretched as if to touch her, making Rogue take a step back to compensate; her skin was turned on and with the sudden upheaval in her emotions and thoughts, she doubted she'd be able to turn it off any time soon. His arm dropped back to his side as he stared at her sombrely. "I did a lot of thinking while I was gone," he began carefully. "Jean... she wasn't who I thought she was. I loved her, but I let her go a long time ago; I just never realized it."

A roar filled Rogue's head as she heard his words, the thought of those seven agonizing weeks she had just spent thinking he hated her rising up within her. The countless hours she had spent convincing herself that she was numb, that her feelings for him were completely dead; only now to have him tell her that he in fact chose her over Jean. Or at least he thought he did. The idea that this was a just a whim of his, perhaps shock over Jean's death, made her recognize what the roar rushing through her blood for what it was: anger. Anger at him for doing this to her, for making her dance like a puppet on a string that he could control whenever he chose, anger for the tears she had shed after he left and the empty nights alone with nothing but her torment. Mostly, she was angry that he still affected her so much, thus proving that any control she thought she had over her emotions had been a lie.

"So, what?" she demanded loudly, her green eyes shooting sparks as she placed her hands on her hips. "Ya roamed the countryside for nearly two months, weighin' the pros an' cons of pinin' over a dead woman before finally decidin', 'gee, maybe ah'd be better off with a live one'."

Logan's face paled visibly at her furious words and he recoiled as though he had been dealt a physical blow. "You know that's not it," he said hoarsely.

"Ah don't know anything!!!" Rogue yelled in fury. "All this time ah've been thinkin' that ya hated me for killin' Jean, an' here ya stroll in an' tell me it's the exact opposite! An' now what? Ya think ah'm jus' gonna swoon into yo' arms an' believe ya?"

"You thought I hated you?" Logan whispered with a stunned expression. "How could you ever think - "

"What else was ah supposed to think?" she cut him off as she began to pace around the garden in agitation. "Ya left, remember? With not a word to me or even a lousy note. Ya didn't even wait to see if ah was gonna be OK." She shut her mouth with a snap when her voice cracked on the last word, too proud to let him see her cry. Ah won't cry for him! she told herself fiercely. Not anymore.

Logan was watching her warily while she turned her back on him to reign in her emotions and when he spoke his voice was contrite. ""Hank promised me that you were fine. I just needed some time to get my head on straight, to figure it out. I'm sorry -"

Rogue spun in a circle like a dancer, her skirt flaring out around her long legs from the speed with which she moved. "No!" she screamed, cutting him off again. "Ya do not get to make everythin' OK by sayin' you're sorry! Do you have any idea what ah've been through? The hours, the days, the weeks ah've spent tryin' to get over you? Well guess what sugah, it finally worked; ah've given up on ya."

Logan's face fell as her husky voice echoed in the moonlit garden. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that," he said thickly. "Say anything else but don't tell me you've given up on me Marie. You told me you loved me once; tell me that you still do."

Rogue hung her head, feeling suddenly tired while her hair hid her face behind a curtain of brown and white. Taking a breath, she raised her head to meet his imploring stare and said tonelessly, "Ah don't."

A muscle in Logan's jaw visibly twitched at her cold words while his eyes blinked rapidly, pain evident in his features. "So what is this then, payback?" he demanded, his voice suddenly raspy while Rogue shook her head in denial, unable to meet his gaze.

"No, it ain't payback," she told him. "Ah just... ah don't feel a thing anymore." She bit her lip to keep from saying any more; her heart was screaming at her to believe him, to go to him, but her pride, that fierce, indomitable pride within her, refused to back down, refused to be made to dance like a puppet for him again.

She never heard him move; one moment he was standing several feet away, the next he was right in front of her, as close as he could get without actually touching her. With one hand he plucked the jasmine flower from her hair before brushing it lightly across her cheek as she stood rigidly before him, unwilling to back away.

"I don't believe that," he murmured, trying to catch her eyes with his own while she determinedly looked away. "Look at me Marie. Look at me and tell me that you don't love me."

Rogue finally met his blistering stare while a sneer curled her full lips with false bravado; inside she felt as though she was sixteen again and completely lost in his presence. "What if ah do jus' that?" she challenged. "Ya gonna run away into the night, never to be seen again? Gonna tell me if ya can't have all of me, ya don't want any? That it?"

Logan shook his head, the jasmine blossom still in his hand now softly trailing across her lips. "No darlin'," he said, making her body shiver from his low voice as much as his actions. "I'm done with running. I'm staying right here until you're ready to believe me and I don't care how long it takes."

Rogue couldn't tear her eyes away from his; his words were so sincere and though she did believe him, she knew the day would come when he decided he had made a mistake and leave her. The pain she had felt thinking he hated her would be nothing compared to the agony she would go through if she knew he left because she wasn't everything he thought she was.

And yet it was so hard to turn him away when he looked the way he did, standing in the shadow of the magnolia tree while the moonlight turned his hazel eyes into something unreal. Rogue's eyes fell to his well-defined lips, lips that always looked so hard; it had been such a pleasant surprise when she kissed him to learn that they were wonderfully soft against hers. Swallowing thickly, she looked up to meet his gaze once more, opening her mouth to speak when a sudden shriek broke through the still night air.

"ROGUE!!!"

An instant later Jubilee crashed into the garden, a stream of fireworks jetting from her hands as she skidded to halt in front of the other two mutants while she paused to catch her breath.

"Jubes, what the hell is goin' on? Ya just flash-fried one of Storm's rose bushes!" Rogue scolded her friend who appeared to be on the verge of spontaneous combustion. Shooting a questioning glance at Logan who merely shrugged, she turned back to the gasping girl beside them and waited for an explanation.

"The Professor," Jubilee panted, bracing one hand on Logan's broad shoulder as she spoke. "We just got a call from Muir Island. He's alive guys! The Professor's alive!"

The happy sounds of children at play drifted over the grounds of Xavier's school as the sinking sun cast long shadows on the spacious lawn. Westchester and the surrounding areas had been hit by a series of blizzards over the past several weeks and as a result everything was covered by a heavy blanket of snow; snow that the children, not to mention a few adults, were only too happy to put to use. Currently a handful of students were good-naturedly wrestling on the snow covered ground with Charles and Rogue, both of whom looked like kids themselves as they played with the others.

From his position on the front porch, Logan watched the group through a haze of cigar smoke. Rogue was easy to see as she was wearing a bright blue parka with matching hat and mittens and he couldn't help but smile every time her joyful laugh reached his ears. It had been a long time since he had heard her laugh like that and he was grateful to hear it once again. Turning his eyes away from her form, he focused his stare on Charles, who was now running through the snow banks while a small girl rode piggy-back on his shoulders as she grasped his hair and giggled madly in delight. The man that everyone knew as the Professor now bore no resemblance to his previous physical body. Where once he was bald, blue eyed and paraplegic, he now possessed a full head of sandy brown hair, kind brown eyes and was the picture of perfect health. While Logan knew beyond a doubt that he really was Charles, he still found it vaguely unsettling to look at the man. From a distance a casual observer would see the person who up until a few months ago had been a living vegetable, but to engage him in direct conversation would show a completely different thing; the moment he was focused on completely, perception would change and a person would no longer see with their eyes but with their mind, which would show Charles the way he had been, only now no longer in a chair.

For Logan it was a surreal experience to speak to his old friend and see him in his old body while his nose still bristled at the unfamiliar scent. He appeared to be the only one at the mansion that was having a harder time getting used to it; everyone else was just so happy to have the Professor back that they didn't care what form he took or what his body's scent was for that matter. But then, not everyone had Logan's heightened sense of smell. When the team had first arrived at Muir Island all those weeks ago, Rogue had been the first to recognize him for who he was. She had taken one long look at him sitting by a window before falling to her knees and laying her head on his lap as he stroked her hair. He had asked them all to forgive him for taking so long to contact them; apparently the body that he now inhabited needed to recuperate after being in a vegetative state for over forty years and he had wanted to see them all when he was fully recovered.

Logan was pulled from his reverie when his nostrils were tickled by the scent of hot chocolate. Turning, he Scott coming towards him, one steaming mug clutched in each of his hands.

"Logan," he acknowledged, handing the other man a cup. "Compliments of Miss Pryde. She's been making them for everyone today."

Logan took the proffered mug, raising one eyebrow at the words, 'CAUTION: I GO FROM ZERO TO BITCH IN 3.5 SECONDS' which were stamped all over the pastel pink ceramic. Seeing his comical look of disgust, Scott shrugged smugly as he sipped loudly from his own plain black mug. "These were the only two left in the whole house," he explained regretfully though an amused smile touched his lips. "I just thought that one suited you better."

Growling softly, Logan took a healthy swallow of the scalding drink despite the burning in his throat; he had a secret passion for hot chocolate and was mildly miffed that there no marshmallows in it as well. Rogue always puts marshmallows in mine when she makes it, he thought sullenly before mentally slapping himself as he saw Scott's knowing grin. Turning away from him, he looked back towards the object of his thoughts on the lawn, hoping Scott would leave him to his brooding if he simply ignored him.

"So, Rogue still shutting you down?"

The younger man's voice made Logan jerk his eyes off the woman in question who was currently pelting Charles with snowballs as the children laughed with glee. Shooting Scott what he hoped was his most menacing look, he clutched his ridiculous mug tighter in his hands and debated dumping its contents over the team leaders preppy head, regretting that he had ever confided in him about the situation. Instead he gritted out, "Not that it's any of your business, but yeah. She says she can be my friend but beyond that... she just doesn't believe me when I tell her that... I love her."

"Can you blame her?" Scott asked though there was no malice in his tone. He sipped speculatively on his drink before he spoke again. "Are you sure that she's what you want? I mean, being in a relationship is different from being someone's friend. You learn things about them that you never knew. Do you really know her Logan? Inside out?"

With a loud groan, Logan plopped himself down on the hanging porch swing while its chains squealed in protest under his sudden bulk. Resolutely gnawing on his cigar, he watched Rogue as she made a snow angel with the children, her musical laughter touching his ears and causing his hard expression to soften. "I know her," he stated firmly. "I know she likes any movie made before 1950. She still gets scared by the silent Dracula movies from the '20's." He chuckled fondly while Scott tried not to look too shocked. The idea of Rogue being scared of a silent movie was preposterous. He has seen the woman single-handedly take on men three times her size and never even break a sweat, so this new revelation came as a surprise.

"The first song she ever learned how to play on the guitar was 'I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry' by that Hanks Williams guy," Logan went on with a proud look in his eyes. "She taught herself how to play it for her mother's birthday because it was her favourite." He paused to take a deep drag from his cigar while Scott remained silent. It seemed as though Logan had forgotten that he had an audience and he didn't want him to stop talking. Personal knowledge of Rogue was minimal at best and he found himself curious to hear more about his mysterious friend, no matter how trivial the detail. When no one even knew her birthday or real name, anything was interesting.

"Her favourite flower is from a swamp milkweed," Logan continued in a low voice, his gaze never leaving the laughing woman in blue on the lawn. "Because she says it reminds her of home, but she likes orange roses too." A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he shook his head ruefully. "She actually wants to own a platypus because the duck is her favourite bird and beavers are favourite animals. I thought she was just yanking my chain when she told me that, but she was dead serious; thinks they look so weird they're cute."

Scott laughed, a mental image of Rogue walking around the mansion with a platypus in her arms coming to the forefront of his mind. He had always figured she'd like a tiger or something equally fierce and proud; leave it to her to like the most awkward animal on the planet. "What else?" he demanded eagerly, his hot chocolate long forgotten.

Logan took a moment before he spoke again, apparently too engrossed in watching Rogue trying to catch snowflakes with her tongue to form a reply. At last he asked, "Do you know that map? The one in her room?"

Scott nodded; the huge map of the world in her room was hard too miss, nearly spanning the length of one whole wall. It was covered by small strings of different coloured lights, pictures and various other small items that were tacked to its surface; quite frankly it was so laden with things that the map itself was barely visible. Anxious to hear the story behind it, he impatiently gestured for Logan to continue, who took another pull from his cigar before speaking.

"When she still lived in Mississippi, she had a map of North America in her room, with the route she wanted to take to get to Alaska. The one she has here is almost the same but she said it had to be bigger than her old one. The lights, the strings criss-crossing it, they all have a meaning behind them. The blue lights show places that the people she's absorbed have been; the green is for places that she herself has been to and the orange are the places that she wants to see. The pictures and other stuff stuck on there are just things that shows what she likes about certain parts of the world, or what she wants to learn more about."

"Wow," Scott said simply. He had always assumed the map was just a decorative piece for her wall; he never thought it was a window to Rogue's dreams. Deciding to push his luck, he asked slyly, "So, uh... what's her name?"?

Logan snorted and gave the younger man his best are-you-kidding-me look. "Nice try," he said while Scott shrugged in defeat.

"Sorry," he apologized. "But you can't blame me for giving it a shot. For the record though, you do know what her real name is, right?" Logan said nothing though his secretive grin said enough, making Scott huff in exasperation. "Well, how long have you known it for? When did she tell you?"

Now it was Logan's turn to shrug as he replied nonchalantly, "Right after we met." Ignoring Scott's stupefied expression he said, "Alright, show and tell's over Cyke. Unless you have any helpful tips to give me, I say you make like a tree and get the hell outta here. I need to think."

Scott slowly collected their empty mugs as he got to his feet. "You know," he began, avoiding the evil eye Logan was giving him. "I can say this about Rogue: When she cares for someone, she's not afraid to show it. She wears her heart on her sleeve, y'know? Maybe you should do the same."

Logan stared at him in dumbfounded disbelief before sputtering indignantly, "But I've already told her - "

"Yeah, you told her," Scott interjected mildly. "And she didn't believe you or want to hear it. So make her hear it. Shout it from the rooftop or something."

"This is your advice?" Logan demanded dourly. "Make myself look like an idiot so she can reject me publicly?"

Scott rolled his eyes even though he knew the action would go unnoticed beneath his glasses. "If you love her, you shouldn't care about looking like an idiot. Look, that charity ball is going on tonight and Rogue is giving a speech. If you want her attention..."

"What?" Logan barked as the younger man trailed off. "Jump onstage and proclaim my undying love in front of God, the team and all of Chucks big-wig guests? Is that what you're telling me to do? Is it?"

Staring up a the feral mutant as he loomed menacingly over him, Scott merely nodded and said, "Well... yeah."

Logan sank back into the porch swing with a distinctly greenish hue to his complexion and dropped his head into his hands. "I miss Magneto."

“Stop fidgeting.”
“Easy for you to say Scooter. I bet you’re loving every second of this.”

“Yes Logan, I love being pressed against your manly physique. Oh baby, oh baby.”

“Do you even know what the hell you’re doing? That thing will never fit in that small hole.”

“It will fit if you’d just. Stop. Fidgeting. Y’know, at your age you’d think you could do this by yourself.”

“First of all, I don’t know my age. Secondly, I always just got Rogue to do it for me when I needed to. And you’re tugging too goddamn hard on that thing!”

“Oh, you can take, I’m almost done. And I hope to god you were paying attention, because this is the last time I’m doing this for you!” Finally finished, Scott stepped away and admired the perfect knot he had made in Logan’s neck tie. Compared with the mess Logan had made of it before swallowing his pride and asking for help, it was definitely a step up. The charity ball was already under way, but both men had taken a bit longer to get ready than anticipated. Mostly because Scott had been able to convince Logan to let him give his wild hair a trim and instead gave him a complete make-over. It was easier to do than he thought it would be because he just kept telling Logan that he had to ‘even it out’. Apparently the feral mutant had a fear of having a lopsided head. “Well, how about that,” he said now while Logan peered apprehensively into the mirror hanging on Scott’s closet door. “You actually had a face under all that hair.”

“You butchered me!” the other man moaned, running his hands across his now smoothly shaven cheeks and shorter haircut with a shell-shocked expression on his incredulous face.

Scott groaned in disgust at his childish tone. “Get over it,” he replied. “With your metabolism, in a week you’ll never even know that you looked civilized for a brief time, and Rogue will get the surprise of her life. And you’ll never hear me say this again, but you’re… an attractive man under all that hair. The suit doesn’t hurt, either.”

Logan paused in the middle of putting on his suit’s jacket, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth at his friend’s words. “Geez Scott, I never knew you felt this way about me,” he simpered, batting his lashes seductively while Scott snorted back his laughter at the doe-eyed expression on the fierce Wolverine’s face.

“Let’s just hope Rogue feels the same. After going through the horrors of dressing and grooming you, it would be such a waste of my talents if she didn’t.”

“I know why I gotta wear this monkey suit,” Logan said, eyeing himself in the mirror again as he took in the jet black suit and forest green silk tie he wore. “This shindig is black tie, but why the hell did I need a haircut? Or a shave for that matter? Rogue likes it when I look –“

“Like you just crawled out of the gutter?” Scott interjected as he got to work on his own navy blue tie. Logan bared his teeth at him as he continued patiently, “For a lady killer, you sure don’t know much about women. Sure, she likes the way you look, but trust me, there’s not a female alive that can resist a tough guy turned classy. She’ll love it.” With one final adjustment, he stepped back and nodded approvingly at his own reflection past Logan’s broad back. “OK,” he announced with a clap of his hands. “I’m ready. You?”

Logan grunted noncommittally, his hands roving restlessly over his suit clad body. “I can’t do it,” he said suddenly as his arms dropped limply back to his sides. “I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to say to her and for the first time in my life I think I’m actually gonna barf.”

Scott patted his arm in commiseration. “You’ll be fine,” he said encouragingly. When Logan still looked unconvinced, he grabbed his arm and began to tug him towards the door. “C’mon big guy. Let’s get a beer in you before show time.”





Sipping delicately from a champagne flute, Rogue nodded politely at the man in front of her as he continued talking earnestly about his many businesses. Mr. Kerr was a great contributor for the school and she didn’t want to alienate him by appearing disinterested, although why she bothered she had no idea; the man couldn’t even raise his gaze from her chest to meet her eyes for more that two consecutive seconds and the constant leering was grating on her nerves. His stare was so heated she couldn’t even try to pretend that he was merely admiring the strapless green evening gown she wore, which had a tight, form-fitting bodice before flaring out at her hips to graze the floor, and the longer he stared the more her ire grew. At these fundraisers for the school, Rogue had always been delegated into the role of hostess because of her popularity among Xavier’s contributors and she usually enjoyed the task. Her mother had been born into a rich family and up until she had become pregnant at 17 with Rogue and was disowned by her parents, she had been well taught in all ways of being a true Southern lady. The lessons that she had learned were then passed on to Rogue, for even though they had lived in practically a shack near a swamp, her mother had wanted her daughter to become more than a backwoods hick. And so every day young Marie would have lessons on her mother’s piano that had been given to her from her grandmother, as well as lessons on etiquette and how to be the perfect hostess. By the time her mother died before her daughter’s tenth birthday, the lessons were already engrained into Rogue’s brain and even though she was a tomboy most of the time, she still managed to appear ladylike and sophisticated while climbing trees or playing in mud.

Now she played the part of the Southern belle perfectly, having an air of dewy helplessness about her that the men couldn’t resist and the women found charming. Her accented, sultry voice was pleasing to both male and female and made compliments sound sincere, no matter how extravagant, while her proud way of walking with her head up and shoulders thrown back gave her poise and grace. Combined with her heartbreakingly beautiful face and exquisite body, she drew people to her like moths to a flame. By all rights many of the women should have been jealous of such a breathtaking woman, but her untouchable skin was common knowledge to everyone, and at most they just thought it was a pity that such a lovely girl had such an unfortunate mutation.

However, since learning control of her power, this was her first formal event without gloves or body stockings and Rogue sensed a subtle shift in the partygoer’s reaction to her. The women seemed more guarded and the men more bold, as though the sight of her without her customary gloves made her into a different person.

Spying Charles from across the room waving at her to get her attention, she remembered that it was almost time for her to give her speech and she gratefully cut into Mr. Kerr’s long winded explanations about crude oil, a regretful tone in her voice as she said, “Forgive me sir, but ah’m afraid we’ll have to continue this conversation at another time. Ah do hope you won’t think me terribly rude to leave you now.” Barely listening to his reply, she immediately hurried towards Charles, grabbing another flute of champagne and downing it on the way. Ah just gotta do this speech, and then ah can head to the Danger Room, she thought to herself. Ah definitely need to hit somethin’.

Forcing a smile, she stopped next to Charles and asked brightly, “So how’re the folks takin’ to seein’ ya in a new body? Anyone freak out yet?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No,” he replied. “People are interesting. They can accept the most amazing things, yet abhor the most natural. It’s a strange world indeed.” He lowered his eyes and asked carefully, “Have you seen Logan yet?”

Ignoring the sudden pounding of her heart, Rogue feigned a disinterested look. “He actually came to this affair? Ah’m surprised he’s not hidin’ out at some dive bar.”

Charles’ wise eyes bored into her, and she knew he wasn’t fooled by her blasé tone. “He hurt you deeply, didn’t he,” he said softly. It wasn’t a question.

“No more then ah’ve hurt him, ah guess,” Rogue returned sadly, her eyes distant. Shaking herself out of it, she gestured towards the stage where the small band was winding down. "Ah reckon ah'm up next. Ya mind if ah call it a night after?"

Charles shook his head. "Of course not," he replied, a winning smile on his face as he said, "After you have a dance with me of course. It's been many years since I've danced with the prettiest lady at a party."

Chuckling softly, Rogue nodded and turned to make her way towards the stage as the band disappeared into the wings. She mentally went over the standard dialogue she said at each of these functions: We at Xavier's thank you for your contributions; without you yada yada yada, obligatory corny joke, hold for polite laughter, raise champagne glass for toast and that's all folks.

Satisfied that she had it down to an art form, she stood before the microphone and waited until the chatter died down while she flashed her most friendly smile at the large crowd of nearly 400 guests. "Welcome, everyone, to our home," she began once complete silence had reigned. "Everyone here at Xavier's school would like to thank - " Rogue was suddenly interrupted by a loud burst of static from the speakers, followed by the opening chords of the Temptation's song 'Ain't Too Proud To Beg'. Wide-eyed, her mouth clicked shut with an audible snap as she craned her neck around woodenly in confusion, her eyes searching. Within seconds her gaze turned directly to the curtains to her right where the band had vanished behind, only to see Scott and a clean-cut Logan arguing over the controls for all the sound equipment. As the music continued, she just barely made out their words, mostly relying on her fairly good talent for reading lips.

"Damnit Scott, I told you, no music!" Logan was snarling while Scott held up his hands in a placating manner. "Do I look like a music type of guy to you?"

"I thought it was a nice touch," Scott said sheepishly before his face suddenly lit up as though struck by a brilliant idea. "I got it!" he exclaimed, extending his hand to press a button on the equipment beside them as he said hurriedly, "This one's even better. It's Elvis! 'You Don't Know Me', very fitting to the situation..." his words dried up as the music that now came pouring from the speakers and into the astonished ears of the guests was not Elvis, but the song 'Sexx Laws' by Beck. Scott's face immediately crumpled into lines of horror as Logan stared at him in mute disbelief. "Wrong button..." Scott choked out, then leapt backward as Logan extended his claws before driving them into the music equipment, effectively shutting down the offending music and leaving the stunned ballroom of people in dazed silence.

Stalking past Scott and his sputtering apologies, Logan determinedly stalked past him and out onto the stage towards a dumfounded Rogue. Oh mah gawd, she thought, completely floored. Nothin' like this ever came up during one o' Mamma's lessons. Ah'd love to see how she woulda handled this one.

He finally stopped less than a foot away from her while she stood awkwardly, her body partly facing the crowd of guests while the other half turned towards him as she maintained a plastic smile, conscious of the microphone before her. Forcing a relaxed tone, she said "Hey there Logan. Ah can see all the technical problems have been sorted out; everything's in workin' order here, so ya can... get off the stage. Please?"

"I'm sorry darlin'," Logan replied, seemingly uncaring of their voices being carried over the microphone. "But I need you to listen to me. And to believe me."

"Ah don't think now is really the time to - " Rogue began before he cut her short.

"I've wasted too much time already," he said roughly as the crowd gasped softly at the passion in his voice before immediately clamming up to listen greedily as he continued. "I've hurt you; things I've said, things I've done. And I never knew it. I couldn't see what was right in front of me because... the way I feel for you is so much bigger than love. I've never known anything like it before and I'm sorry it took me so long to see it. I'm sorry."

Rogue was biting savagely down on her tongue to keep from either crying or screaming; at the moment she wasn't sure which urge was stronger. His words were chipping at the hard shell she had built around herself to keep him out, and all the reasons she'd had for denying him were slowly ebbing away. The fear that all his feelings were temporary, however, remained. Sensing her trepidation, Logan stepped closer to her and lowered his voice so it wouldn't carry to the audience.

"I love you, Anna Marie," he whispered, the sound of both her names coming from his lips taking her breath away as tears began to sting her eyes at last. "Everything I have, everything I am, it's all because of you. You're my best friend. And I want my life to be with you."

Rogue stared deeply into his hazel eyes and was finally able to really define why they drew her in so. They had the exact colour as the woods near her home in Mississippi, when the heavy rain clouds closed in and cast dark shadows amongst the heavy vegetation, making everything appear mysterious and exciting. Gazing into them, she now felt the same comfort and wonder she had felt when she was a child marvelling at the beauty of nature and with a deep breath she raised one hand and grazed her fingertips across his shaven cheek which was already sprinkled with dark stubble. The feel of his bare skin against her came as an electric jolt, setting all her senses on fire as she stepped closer still. "You're in it now," she murmured as she inclined her face towards his. "Then you're in it for eternity."

His lips grazed hers teasingly while his voice rumbled from his chest, making her shiver. "Eternity sounds good to me." With that, he pulled her flush against him, bringing his lips fully down on hers as he kissed her tenderly. The ballroom of guests before them erupted into spontaneous applause and loud cheering while the couple on the stage continued to kiss with reckless abandon.

From his position in the crowd, Charles clapped until his hands hurt, pausing only to absentmindedly hand a pristine white handkerchief to Hank who stood beside him, weeping softly into his large furry hands. The blue doctor blindly groped for the offering, finally snagging it before wiping his teary eyes. "It's just so... beautiful," he choked out in a watery voice.

Jubilee and Kitty appeared on either side of him, both wearing huge grins as they each grabbed one of his brawny arms. "Dude, I don't think I've ever heard Wolvie say so much at one time," Jubilee laughed, her eyes shining with happiness. Suddenly Bobby sprang from the still cheering crowd, a soppy grin on his face as he clutched an open bottle of champagne tightly to his chest.

"It's about time those crazy kids got together!" he shouted drunkenly, bracing himself on Piotr's sturdy shoulder as his legs wobbled. Turing to the stage, he waved his bottle over his head in a salute. "Go Roguey!" he cried. "Go Wol..Wolv.. I think I'm about to ralph." with one hand clamped across his mouth, Bobby turned and ran into the crowd, vanishing within seconds as the thick throng swallowed his form.

While the others laughed wildly at his dramatic exit, Charles turned back to the pair on the stage who were now holding hands as they walked away, their gazes still glued to one another. Smiling broadly as his own eyes prickled with happy tears, the Professor shook his head as an amused thought entered his mind.

Took them long enough.