Dear Ms. D'Ancanto

Not to make you feel bad or anything (several threatening lawsuits have taught us that apparently, teenagers have quite low self-esteem) but we feel obligated to inform you that you're a disappointment to your entire generation.

While your unhealthy obsession with Taylor Lautner and Orlando Bloom indicates some sign of teenage life blossoming in that skunk striped head of yours, the lame inside jokes with your friends have got to stop.

I mean, awesome possum? Dancing Pants? Do you think Bobby will want to date you after hearing that nonsensical crap? Think Logan will ever see you as more than a kid once he's seen a demonstration of the pants dance?

Real teenagers don't have to work so hard to get people to like them, Rogue. Real teenagers throw witty, ironic phrases over their shoulders like they are lightweight cardigans from Abercrombie and Fitch. Real teenagers do not interrupt their own jokes by snorting chocolate milk all over the breakfast table.

Our advice is for you to hide in the school greenhouse for the remainder of your teenage years.

Sincerely,

The Association of Teenagers

IMPORTANT! ROGUE! LOOK AT THIS NOTE! TAPED TO YOUR PILLOWCASE! RIGHT HERE!

Rogue,

I hope you saw this.

Good Morning.

Kit and I decided to let you sleep. When you get up, take a shower and use some of my conditioner. You will recognize it-it is the only bottle in the bathroom that has the words "USE THIS AND DIE!" and a little blue skull on it.

Don't let your hair get like that again! Wear a swim cap! I know they look stupid but so will you when all your hair falls out from the chlorine and you look like Professor X. Except without the pimp suits. And awesome wheels.

Kitty says you can wear one of her hats. Wear the Orange one with the Orioles symbol on it. You will recognize it because it doesn't have a C on it. Unlike her other 12 hats.

Meet us later,

From your thoughtful and creative roommate,

(AKA Jubilation Lee AKA JUBILEE AKA etc...)

P.S. If you can find my silver bangle bracelets I will give you ten million Skittles. I'd find them myself, but I want to play Crash Bandicoot with your boyfriend.

!JUBILEE! LOOK AT THIS NOTE! SITTING ON YOUR BACKPACK!

Your bracelets are underneath Kitty's Mardi Gras beads. You'd know that if you ever cleaned up your side of the room.

I hate Skittles. You'd know that as well if you weren't such a neglectful friend.

Thanks for letting me use your conditioner. It's still sorta green, but at least it's stopped falling out.

And thank you for the lovely description of what I will look like soon.

Unfortunately, I can't meet you guys later, because I've got another meeting with the Prof and Hank. While you're hanging out without me, however, why don't you think of some of the benefits of not having any hair at all, hmm? I'll start you off: No need to invest our allowance on hair pins.

And I'm not wearing Kitty's hat because I don't believe she said I could wear it.

-Rogue

ROGUE! LOOK AT THIS NOTE! SITTING NEXT TO YOUR BOWL OF CEREAL!

Thank you thank you thank you!

-Jubes

PS: That may be true, but perhaps being neglected is good for you? It forces you to do homework and other such productive activities, while I entertain your boyfriend.

P.P.S. I can't beat him on level 4...can you help me?

LETTER TO A COMPLETE AND UTTER STRANGER

A Very Important Thing You Should Know is that you should always wear a bathing cap when you go swimming.

Trust me.

It's important

The second thing you should know is it's okay if you don't want to read this. Really. I wont mind. In fact, I'm amazed that our teacher gave us this assignment in the first place. I think that the Joy of the Envelope is really not so joyful at all, especially when we have things like email and text messages and Facebook to get us by. If you want to throw this out or flush it down a toilet, etc. THAT'S OKAY.

Assuming you are still reading, Ms Munroe (that's our teacher, and she's usually pretty cool when she's not encouraging us to rekindle the Joy of the Envelope) gave us a list of things to tell you. So I'm going to tell them to you and you can ignore them, or flush them, or what have you.

My Name: Marie, but please, call me Rouge. Everyone else does.

My Hobbies: Swimming (hence the bathing cap comment-my hair is currently a lovely shade of light green), video games, and snow sports. (Well, mostly just swimming and snow sports. Video games are more of an interest out of necessity)

My friends: Kitty and Jubilee. They're both completely bonkers so I won't say anymore about them now. And then there's Logan, but he's practically a Complete and Utter Stranger occasionally.

My Holiday: Was spent eating, sleeping, playing video games, and driving down to the city to see the parade. And turning my hair the aforementioned shade of green.

There are more things on this list, but this letter is probably rotting away, unread, in a corner, and all my words are wasted.

Sincerely,

Marie (Rogue) D'Ancanto

P.S: Do you like Skittles? Because one thing I forgot to add was how much I hate Skittles. I mean really, really hate them. Like, if you were trapped in a car in the middle of the dessert, kay, and the only thing you could eat was a pack of Skittles, kay, and you even for a second would consider eating those Skittles? Then don't bother writing back to me, because I wont reply.

Ms. D'Ancanto

We were extremely impressed with the quality of your work over Thanksgiving. In fact, we were so impressed that we were wondering if we could offer you a membership to our society.

We have observed that the day before your holiday, you were assigned ten math problems, four physics graphs, 6 essay questions, and an online activity. We also noticed that the day before your holiday, you and your friends declared a national "Skip day" and went to the movies instead.

Is it also true that you have an English test in 15 minutes? Is that why you're getting Fruit Loops all over Kitty's copy of Macbeth? Please confirm this for us.

That's wonderful Rogue. We love you already.

The Society of People Who are Going to Fail High School (and most likely life, too.)

Dear Rogue,

Do you really think you're going to get the answer for number 5? Or number 7? Do you really think you're going remember a quote from a play that you HAVE NOT EVEN read? We didn't think so. Look at Jubilee, sitting across the room, tapping her pencil furiously against the desk, with that little crease between her eyes. You know she's on number 4, don't you? You also know that it is the only answer you got right (probably). Of course, you know the only logical thing to do would be to walk to the front of the room, hand your test in, and while walking past her, whisper "It's B".

Don't you?

Sincerely,

The Best Friends Club.

To: Recipient

From: Address unknown.

Subject: Great Holiday Bargains!

Christmas is coming, and we have just the thing for you! Everyone wants to spoil their friends and family at Christmas, and now you can! At Bob's, you can get everything you need, from decorations to presents, all at minimal cost! Visit Bob's! You won't be disappointed!

Attachments: Coupons for Bob's Dollar $tore

ROGUE! OVER HERE! ON THE MAGNA-BOARD! IT'S A NOTE FOR YOU!

Thanks for helping me on my test today, I really appreciate it. I guess I should actually study next time, so you won't have to help me cheat. To mark this new-found academic dedication I've decided that we should skip afternoon classes and go see a movie.

Whadda ya think?

Jubes :)

Hey Jubes,

No problem...I finished mine early.

I don't really think skipping afternoon classes would be such a great idea, considering the crap we got into last time for not setting a good example for the younger kids. How about after school we go to Starbucks and do our homework? At least it will benefit us somewhat.

Rogue

Rogue,

A real teenager would not hesitate when her friends asked her to skip school with them.

A real teenager would have casually accepted, or else implied that she had other, cooler plans.

But no, we see why you would suggest studying instead. Because your life couldn't get any more exciting, right, Rogue?

The Association of Teenagers

LETTER FROM A COMPLETE AND UTTER STRANGER

Rogue,

It's kind of weird that you and your friends all have unconventional names. But I kind of like it. My name is Katelyn, by the way, but I go by Keltie (unless my dad is mad at me. Then it's Katelyn Elizabeth Matthews-get-your-butt-down-here). Rogue is pretty bad-ass, I have to say. Is it part of your real name or something people call you because you are so bad-ass?

I also agree that this assignment is stupid, and that fondness of video games is indeed a necessity for girls these days. However, I think if I were stuck in the middle of the dessert I would probably eat the Skittles, because it would make me happy to see such bright colors before I died of dehydrolization or whatever it is that you die of when you're in the desert.

1. See above for my name

2. My interests: Field hockey, dancing, singing, getting up in front of large crowds of people (Yeah. Right.)(But yes for the other ones)

3. My best friends are: My best friend Leah who I've known since I was in Kindergarten She always offered to share her play-doh with me. My other best friend is Ben. I met him in fifth grade when I forgot my lunch and he bought me a sandwich. I've been in love wish him since the day after he bought me the sandwich (There! You already know more about me than either Leah or Ben. Clearly we are on our way to being fast friends. Perhaps we should stop, lest our teachers think their sneaky plan has worked!).

4. My holiday: Had a four day contest with Leah and Ben to see which one of us could stay awake for the longest amount of time. Ben won, and is not at school today because he's still making up for the sleep he lost (67 hours, 28 minutes). I don't know why we thought this was a good idea. It stopped being fun after about 3 hours.

Another thing you should know about me is that I am extremely lazy, which can be demonstrated by the fact that I am writing this letter instead of...doing the thing that I am supposed to be doing (I have no idea. I'm in History, so it probably has something to do with the past). If I happen to stop a letter in the middle of nowhere and still send it to you, now you will know why.

I had no idea your school even existed before we were assigned this project. I have to say, I'm not sure how I feel writing to someone like you. But you seem nice enough, so I guess it can't hurt. And at least I'll have something new to amuse me during this pitiful excuse for a class. No offense.

Katelyn Matthews

KITTY ! LOOK AT THIS NOTE! TAPED TO YOUR HEADBOARD!

Did you get a letter back from your pen-pal yet?

Rogue

ROGUE! LOOK AT THIS NOTE! SAFETY PINNED TO YOUR PANTS!

I got a letter back from my pen pal. Why?

Jubilee

JUBILEE! OR KITTY! WHOEVER FINDS THIS FIRST!

I don't know...mine seems strange. Her letter seemed nice enough, so I figured she didn't care about the whole "writing to kids at mutant high" thing. But she ended it on a really weird note. Did Ms. Munroe say how we were supposed to deal with that?

Rogue.

ROGUE!

I say give her a piece of your mind. I'll help.

Jubes.

A LETTER TO A STRANGER (WHO SHOULD REMAIN THAT WAY)

Katelyn,

You are a rude, stuck up snob, and I hope you don't write to me again.

From,

Rogue( with help from Jubilee)

ROGUE! I HAVE TO TALK TO YOU! IT IS INCREDIBLY URGENT!

Please, please, please tell me you haven't sent that letter to the girl from Westchester High! Please?

Jubilee

A LETTER TO SOMEONE WHO PROBABLY TOTALLY AND COMPLETELY HATES ME

Keltie,

This is so awkward! Could you please pretend my last letter does not exist? I'm so sorry about that, it was a BIG misunderstanding!

Rogue

Rogue,

I heard you and Jubilee got into trouble about a letter you wrote to your pen pal at Westchester High. What was that all about? I'm not going to tell you what's been going around the school, but please, meet me later in the kitchen and tell me what happened.

Love,

Bobby

Bobby,

I can't meet you later but I can tell you what happened. I got a letter from my pen-pal, Keltie. She seemed like a sweet girl, but at the end of her letter, she said something about our school that I took the wrong way. Of course, I made the mistake of showing it to Jubes. You know how these things make her crazy. Remember that time we went to the mall with her, and Kitty fell through the clothes rack and that guy started going on about mutants and stuff? And Jubes went completely off on him? Don't even get me started about the time with those kids...and their snowman...

Anyway, the principal of Keltie's school found out about the letter we wrote, and she called up Ororo. When she and the Professor called Jubilee to the office (somehow they got the impression that she was the one behind everything, even though it was totally my fault) they told her that Keltie, as well as the rest of the students at Katya Vericaitis, were completely unaware of our school's real purpose. Ororo said that we would have known this if we hadn't skipped school last Wednesday.

So now we have detention, I have a pen-pal that probably hates me, and we single-handedly may have ruined any chance of kids from our school and kids from their school being friends without genetical barriers.

I'm writing this in detention. I'm going to try to get out for 5 minutes to give it to you, but if you found this on your pillowcase later tonight, I'm sorry. Really.

Rogue

Rogue,

Okay, your letter weirded me out, but I thought maybe it was just a private school thing. Like maybe you had a problem with the way I wrote the letter in purple pen, or something? Whatever. I left the letter on my desk and Ben found it and he was so pissed he went right to our teacher and told him that this was why the Joy of the Envelope was a dumb idea (okay, he didn't say "dumb idea" but since I'm not yet convinced that your not a prissy private school girl I'm not gonna repeat what he actually said). He said he had to "defend my honour".

Anyways, I guess my teacher called your teacher and that's when they explained the whole "school for mutants thing". I kind of wish you had just told me you were a mutant in your letter-it would have saved us a lot of confusion. And it's sort of a lot more interesting than "What I did over Thanksgiving" type questions.

I would say it was kind of stupid of you to skip class but I'm currently writing this on the picnic tables outside of the KFC near our school, freezing my hands off, while Ben and Leah practice doing cartwheels for our school play. So I can't really judge. (And I really can't explain about the cartwheels either, so don't ask).

You should know that I don't have anything against mutants. My Dad is a scientist and a bunch of my aunts are doctors and I know that mutation is just "the next step in the evolutionary process" or whatever. I mean, the stuff on the news about terrorist mutants is totes NOT COOL, so hopefully you're not one of those, but mutants in general are OK by me. Just so you know.

By people like you, I meant prissy private school girls. This area is full of rich, influential types and I, for one, am more than a little tired of having to deal with the girls (daughters of those rich, influential types, I guess) who walk past our school every afternoon in their kilts and knee socks and look down their noses at us like we all live in dumpsters and have head lice. I knew your school was a boarding school and I made the assumption that you must be rich to go there. So I guess we both should remember that phrase about assuming things.

Except I don't remember what it is and my hands are freezing and Ben and Leah have given up on the cartwheels so we're going to get some hot chocolate.

And I've written an essay.

Write back if you want.

Keltie

A LETTER TO SOMEONE WHO IS ALMOST A COMPLETE AND UTTER STRANGER

Keltie,

I'm going to say I'm sorry once again. Really. It was dumb of me to jump to conclusions like that. Trust me I am really nothing like a prissy private school girl. I know exactly the type of girl you are talking about. I used to go to school with girls like that, girls who always have perfectly straight hair even in 100% humidity and lip gloss that never smudges and who say "Bless her heart" right after they've said something completely nasty about another girl. Trust me, I'm not that kind of girl. If I was, my hair would not look like a plant decided to sprout from my forehead.

And of course I still want to write to you! I want to hear more about Leah, and Ben (if you want to tell me), and how close you were to fainting when he said that thing about "defending your honour". I also want to ask you some questions:

(Okay, Ms. Munroe said we had to, but I really am interested!)

Do you have any brothers and sisters?

Where were you born?

What do you look like?

What are you doing this weekend?

What are you doing for Christmas?

What are your classes like?

What is your boyfriend/girlfriends name?

Wait. Okay, I just looked at the questions Apparently I was supposed to incorporate them into the letter, not just copy them off the blackboard. It's supposed to improve our writing skills. Oh well. You can answer them or not, it's all up to you.

Rogue

Rogue,

No one can hide the fact that they are a complete failure at life for too long.

Keltie will figure it out eventually. We're actually quite shocked she hasn't yet.

Sincerely,

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Dear Rogue,

Your hair really looks terrible today. Do you think those white (green?) streaks are a fashion statement, Rogue? Do you think walking around with almost-greasy hair is the cool thing to do now? We've got news for you: It's not.

I cant believe you let people see you like that.

Maybe you should visit us sometime?

The Director

International Department of Hairpieces, Toupees, and Wigs

A LETTER FROM A STRANGER

Rogue,

I'm glad we're going to keep writing to each other. Now, to answer your only important question:

Subject: Ben

Re: Honour Statement

Answer: I loved him more than ever.

Maybe I should tell him about how I feel. I mean, I've had plenty of boyfriends before, so this should be easy, but...it's Ben. I know that doesn't mean anything to you, because you haven't known him for forever like I have, but I don't want to mess up our friendship. And what would I tell Leah? It could be very awkward.

I'm glad you're not a prissy private school girl. I'd like to know how anyone gets their hair straight ever, even on a non-humid day. My hair is kind of wavy and brown, and the only time I ever got it completely straight was with an iron. Like on an ironing board. When my Mom caught me leaning over the ironing board with Lean holding onto the iron, she threatened to cut all my hair off and give me a boy cut. This was before she left, obviously, so I could probably do it now and be reasonably sure that my Dad wouldn't notice, but it's probably not a good idea anyway.

Sorry for this rather confusing letter, that is not very long.

Keltie.

P.S: My sister, Emma, says hi. I told her that I was writing to you. She's in the eighth grade, and doesn't get to do this fabulously educational project. Poor her (not). I guess that answers one of your questions. You don't have to hand the answers in do you? If so, tell your teacher that it's not your fault you got stuck with a highly unmotivated and lovesick pen-pal (although really, what does she expect? She's dealing with a bunch of teenagers).

Oh yeah, Rogue, you're really the best person to give Keltie boy advice. Ever been past first base, Rogue? Ever had sex? Ever even had a mature relationship with a boy that was not based around playing video games and extremely unresolved sexual tension?

We remind you of our earlier suggestion that you lock yourself in the greenhouse. With your hair looking like that, you'll fit right in.

The Association of Teenagers

Keltie,

I think if Ben really is the kind of guy you say he is, then it shouldn't ruin your friendship. Maybe you should talk to Leah about this? She'd probably know better than me. I still want you to tell me what's going on, though!

I'm writing this to you on an airplane. I don't really like planes very much. I've had a couple of bad experiences with them, which are too complicated to explain. Let's just say if you ever get your pilot's license that you don't want me in the cockpit.

Kitty and Jubilee are beside me. It's just started to snow, Jubilee is playing Christmas music on her iPod, and they're both going rather insane. Do you know how beautiful New York looks covered in snow? There are Christmas lights up everywhere, because it is the 1st of December and therefore The First Official Day of Christmas.

Like there haven't been Christmas commercials since about October.

Anyway, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm on a plane, and not in class on this snowy winter's morning? Well, you obviously know I go to a school for mutants, and unless you never watch the news or read tabloids in line at the supermarket, (basically if you haven't been living under a rock for the past ten years) then you know that most of the world has this thing...where they don't exactly like us. Sometimes there are kids that need our help, and the Professor usually gets Kitty and I to go with Scott (a teacher of ours) to convince them that our school can help. Jubilee usually whines until she's allowed to come as well. So that's why I'm on a plane, and typing this on a laptop, instead of writing it.

Also, I'm sorry for the kind of dumbed down explanation. It's sort of a "I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you" kind of thing. Actually, it sort of a "I don't really know much more than that because no one tells me anything" kind of thing.

Ahh! Turbulence again. I really am a terrible flier. I don't understand why the Prof always asks me to go. Maybe Jubilee and Kitty are too crazy on their own.

Okay, Kitty just told me to put the laptop away because apparently the turbulence is going to get even worse. I guess this is the price to pay for such beautiful snow.

I'M BACK.

The turbulence didn't stop until we landed, so I'm writing this on the way back home, the next day. The Professor didn't want us flying in the current weather, barely one step down from a blizzard (as you probably know, if you ever watch the news). So we stayed in this really nice hotel, and since we were in downtown Chicago, Kitty took us out. Chicago is practically where she grew up, so she was totally in her element.

I didn't say anything about the students we picked up, did I? They were siblings, a boy and a girl, which surprised me because their powers manifested at the same time. Scott (one of my teachers) said that this is rare, but not impossible. Apparently they had been living on the streets since then, when their parents kicked them out. Both of them looked exhausted, scruffy and worn out. They didn't even protest when we showed up, just kind of listlessly accepted that we were there to help them. I could tell they hadn't been on the street for long. After about three weeks you learn not to trust anybody.

Anyway, when we got back to the hotel, Jubilee and I helped the girl, Becky get cleaned up and into bed, while Kitty and Scott took Sean, her older brother, to the hospital (he had a broken wrist). Becky was the sweetest thing I've ever met. She wouldn't let Jubes and I get her anything, telling us that she didn't want to be any trouble. After a while, she gave up and let us fuss over her. When I first saw her, I thought she might be 9 or 10, but it turns out she's almost 13. Right now she's sitting across the aisle, reading one of Kitty's magazines. She just waved at me.

I still can't figure Sean out. After he and his sister had rested for a bit, we went downstairs to the hotel restaurant and ate about a billion dollars worth of food. Before he was cleaned up, he seemed very introverted. But once he got into some of the clothes Scott let him borrow (Scott, for some reason, spends more money on clothes than Jubilee does), we started to see a different side of him. He's definitely a smart ass. He reminds me of my ex-friend John, who left school a few months ago. Except where John was sarcastic in an insecure, I-don't-care-what-you-think-of-me sort of way, Sean is sarcastic in a self-assured, I-know-everyone-loves-me kind of way.

He's also the complete opposite of his sister, although he obviously took very good care of her in the last couple of weeks. She has dark wavy hair while he's blond. She kept up the chatter at dinner by asking questions about what her classes would be like and if the teachers were nice and things like that. The only time he spoke was to make a snarky comment about my hair, or Scott's glasses.

I can just barely see Sean from where I'm sitting, but when I turn around it always seems like he's staring at me with this smirk on his face. It's very unnerving, actually.

I can't believe I wrote so much! It's getting turbulent again, so I'd better go. I'm sorry I wrote so much. If I bored you, tell me and I won't write so much next time, okay?

Rogue.

P.S.: Tell Emma I said hi, okay? What's she like? Please tell me, and write an unnecessarily long letter so I don't feel so bad

Rogue,

Just calm down. The jet is not going to crash. Scott would never even take off if he thought there was even a sliver of a chance that the plane could crash, which is impossible anyway, because the Blackbird is more advanced than any aircraft around, and aren't there some out there that fly into hurricanes and things anyway? So you have nothing to worry about. Relax, and enjoy the rest of the flight.

Sincerely,

The Take a Deep Breath and Calm Down Society

Rogue,

HA! Sure, calm down. That would be a good advice if you were, oh, I don't know, on a picnic in the park, or a leisurely cruise.

This, my dear, is not a good time to calm down. With your luck, the plane will crash into the middle of a lake, or something, and everyone will die of hypothermia before you can swim to shore.

Sure there are planes that fly through hurricanes. If you recall, this one flew through some measly tornadoes, and you fell out.

Good. And just to let you know, Kitty is thinking that she'd like to have your sparkly blue gloves when you die. If she tells you any different, she's lying.

Cheers,

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Rogue! Look at this note! On your Bed! For when you come home!

I'm glad you're back, and that you made it home safely. I missed you in math. I missed you the whole time you were gone, actually . Maybe next time the professor will let me go with you guys, or get someone else to go instead of you?

Anyway, I missed you. Do you want to go see a movie tomorrow?

Love,

Bobby

P.S.: We have to read p. 345-389 in English.

To: Rogue D'Ancanto
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters
Salem Center, NY

Hi.

It's me, John.

I know you're furious at me, which is why I waited so long to mail this letter. If you don't want to read it, that's fine with me. Just rip it up or flush it down the toilet or have Jubilee blow it up or something.

On second thought, maybe you shouldn't show this to Jubilee at all. Or anyone. Especially Bobby.

He must be really pissed at me, huh? I guess I screwed up pretty bad this time.

Don't worry about me though. I'm okay, just maybe re-evaluating some of my choices.

I know that you're think I should come back. Or maybe you couldn't care less. I can't, and be both know it. It's not just the obvious reasons.

You don't know what it's like, Rogue. Having these powers and only being taught how to not use them. Don't you think that if we were given this "gift" we should learn how to expand them, instead of suppress them?

I don't know...maybe you don't feel the same way. I'm not going to try to convince you otherwise.

It's not just that. Everyone at school fit in, except me. You've got Bobby, the boy-next-door, all around good guy. Kitty, the adorable genius and everyone's little sister. Jubilee, the colorful freak-girl with a messed up sense of cause and effect and a very high tolerance for sugar...Should I continue? Andrew, whacked sense of humor and half the girls in the school lusting after him. Peter, sensitive artist, same deal. And then you: mysterious and enchanting, beautiful and clever and funny, the true girl-next-door (with the mandatory boy-next-door boyfriend). Don't give me that crap about you not being all those things, because you know you are. I mean, yeah, you have the poison skin and the awkward shyness and the tendency to get way too inside your head all the time, but that doesn't negate everything above.

What was I, exactly? Rebel without a cause, James Dean type? Sometimes I thought so. Mostly I knew I was just your run-of-the-mill disaffected youth, and I wanted more than that.

Do you know what things were going through my head before I left with Magneto? One of them was you. You are honestly one of the strangest people I'd ever met Rogue, because even though you were into all that use-your-powers-for-good-not-evil crap, I could see how badly you wanted to use your powers. I know you wanted to do learn how to do more then keep your skin covered. All those times I pissed you off before? I know all you wanted to do was yank off your glove and slap me in the face.

One day you should do that. The next time you're walking down the street and some wise-ass makes some remark about your hair? Slap him. Pretend it was me.

Anyway, I just wanted to get that out. See you around,

John

What's wrong? Are you okay?

-K&J

To Kubilee and Jitty

I'm fine, I just feel a little nauseous. It must have been the turbulence on the plane. I'll be out in a minute.

-Rogue.

Rogue,

Are you sure? Did it have anything to do with the letter you just read?

-K&J

Guys,

No.

-Rogue

Rogue,

You're such a bad liar. We found it under your mattress. Don't worry, we'd feel like throwing up after reading that too. You can come out if you want now.

-K&J

Bobby,

Actually...I don't think I can go to the movies tonight. Kitty is upset about something, and I think it's my duty as her friend to stay here with her.

Maybe next week?

-Rogue

Rogue,

Sure, next week is fine. I just passed Kitty in the hall, though, and she looked fine. I asked her what was wrong and she gave me a funny look. Then she told me that her hair had been acting weird lately, and what did I think she should do about it, get a hair cut or use more conditioner?

Are you sure she's really that upset?

-Bobby

A LETTER FROM A STRANGER

Rogue,

Emma gave me your letter when I got home from a party on Saturday. She had to go to school over the weekend for some reason that is unbeknownst to me, and picked it up. I had to wait to read it though, because my aunt wanted to take me out for brunch on Sunday morning. She does this every once in a while, convinced I need a female role model in my life. Because my Mom's gone, you see? She's worried I may slide into the sinister world of girls who don't know how to use lipliner (the horror!). So we go out somewhere fancy and I pick at my food and she tries to teach me things that she's deemed essential knowledge for female existence. (i.e: You are never ever supposed to wear reinforced toe pantyhose with open toed shoes, did you know that?). As though I really care. I told her I didn't really wear pantyhose and the only open toe shoes I wear are flip-flops in the summer. She looked disappointed, so I tried to give her some advice, like how you can substitute pencil crayons for eyeliner by soaking them in water. I don't think she was very impressed.

Hold on a minute and I'll look at your letter again.

You are very right about the thing with He-Who-Is-Sitting-Next-To-Me-In-Chem-Class, but I think I'm too chicken to ever do anything about it.

And I can't tell Leah. Reason the First: It would get weird. You can't understand how close the three of us are. We've been friends since forever, even though we are definitely very different. Like, Leah really should be one of those prissy private school girls because her Dad is super rich and she lives on one of those mansions up the hill. But her Mom is on the schoolboard, so she goes to public school with us. That means that her prissy girl education was nipped in the bud fairly early, thank God. And Ben...well, he's just Ben. He is very focused on sports and has loads of guy friends but when he's with us he's sweet and fun and sometimes I feel like we're still in primary school when it's just the three of us, you know? I know basically everything about them and they know everything about me, except for like, specific boy-girl stuff that we haven't quite figured out yet. For example, I know that Ben has extremely hairy legs and that his voice started getting lower when we were in the ninth grade BUT I don't know if he feels weird about changing in the boys locker room or exactly what they talk about in there, because refuses to tell us.

Reason the Second: She kisses Ben. In our school play.

Yeah, so you can see how awkward that could get for her. They have to do this big scene, where he grabs her and kisses her. I think this is completely unnecessary for the plot, but apparently when you tell drama teachers things like this, they have a tendency to ask you where you got your degree in theatre. And when you tell them they must be completely deranged, because clearly you are still in high school, how could you have a degree in theatre? they have a tendency to demote you from your tiny walk-on role (that you only auditioned for to spend time with your two best friends) to a lowly stage hand who's sole job it is to feed people their lines when they've forgotten them. Touchy much?

(Actually, since I've now seen this play a bazzilion times, I kind of get her point. Watching pimply teenagers completely destroy a semi-decent (if gratuitous) play would make me hate myself for never following my dreams to Broadway, too.)

It's awful.

I don't want to talk about them anymore, so back to what you said.

It's so cool that you can just take off and get on a plane with your teachers. Especially in the middle of the week. I wish I could do that, instead of sitting here in class learning about moles. Why are we learning about moles, anyway? This is Chemistry, not Zoology. Ha, isn't it funny how there are only two O's, even though technically, there should be three? Zoo-ology. Zooology.

Back on topic. Yeah, that blizzard has turned into freezing rain, and yesterday when I walked to the bus, I saw about 12 people slip in the space of about 2 minutes. And I've seen at least four people on crutches today.

Hang on a minute and I'll ask my Chem teacher why they still haven't put any salt on the front walk yet.

Okay, he got very angry and said that my question didn't have anything to do with moles or Nitrogen (why are they together? Isn't nitrogen dangerous? Are they trying to KILL the moles?), and that if I wanted my question answered, I should go to the principals office.

So that's where I am, right now. I know it's immature, but, despite my momentary sympathy for our drama teacher, I'm kind of tired of adults acting like every question out of my mouth is a challenge. Like MAYBE I just want to know why the sidewalk isn't salted so I can concentrate on the moles and their nitrogen, instead of how I will walk from the door to the bus without killing myself! OR any moles that are lurking about!

Plus, I got out of Chem class.

Okay, the secretary told me I could go in now, so I guess I'll end this letter here. I don't find your letters boring at all, please, keep writing them, they keep me awake in history class.

-Keltie

P.S: Thank God it's Friday, huh?

P.P.S: Only 22 more days till Christmas, and ten days of school left.

Scott,

I noticed our supply of bread sticks is running low.

No pressure though.

-Rogue

Hey Kiddo,

Saturday 9:15. Meet me in the front hall.

-Scott

Scotto,

Thank you thank you thank you and sorry about the Scotto.

-Rogue

Ms. D'Ancanto,

We are writing to advise you of our interest in having you as one of our future members. Your recent display at the Salem Center IGA demonstrated to us that someday soon you will be ready to join our ranks. The way you maneuvered that shopping cart around those tight corners, around wailing children, completely bypassing that display of spilled fruit! Astounding! The way you selected those grapefruit, not simply by sight, Rogue, but by firmness and scent as well! Incredible! The way you politely but firmly told the bag boy that you wanted paper, not plastic! It sent shivers down our hypothetic spines, Ms. D'Ancanto, and I think I speak for all of us when I say we are waiting in eager anticipation for your next domestic project.

With our kindest best wishes,

Housewives of the World, United

Dear Jean,

I just have to say that I feel incredibly stupid writing this, but I have to talk to someone, and the Professor told the younger kids that this might be a good way for them to deal with their grief. I feel like I've been writing so many letters lately that this seems better than praying, like Kurt, or running Danger Room sequences, like Logan, or assigning cruel and sadistic assignments, like Ororo (okay, that one was a joke).

I went shopping with Scott yesterday for the first time since Alkali Lake. I walked down the stairs to the main hall in the morning, and there he was, standing there, just like always. "What took you so long?" was the first thing he said, and I explained to him that Jubilee had discovered Kitty's stash of leftover Halloween candy.

You know as well as anyone that that statement is self-explanatory.

I was so happy that he was willing to start our weekly ritual again that when we got to the grocery store, I just walked with him for a while, occasionally throwing stuff into the cart.

That was a game we always played, remember? I would put in something stupid, like gardening gloves, or hamster food, and he would pretend not to notice. Then when we reached the checkout, he would pick everything out and make me put it all back. When I returned, he would hand me a chocolate bar or magazine or something that he'd picked up without me noticing.

I really missed those Saturdays. I think he did too, because when I tossed in a giant tub of icing, he laughed. I haven't heard him laugh since before Alkali Lake.

I miss you Jean. I miss the times you would come with us, and you and I would go and get the "girl stuff" together, and then we would all go out for lunch.

It's so weird writing you a letter and knowing I wont be able to slide it under your door.

-Rogue

Congratulations, Rogue. You've managed to disappoint even our lowest expectations. Let's review shall we? As a teenager, you should be:

-attending out-of-control Christmas parties
-coming home after curfew
-sleeping in past noon

Instead, on Friday night, you:

-wrote a letter to your dead teacher
-went to bed at 10:30
-woke up at 8 to go grocery shopping with your teacher.

We're getting a little tired of this whole "role-model-for-the-young'uns" act. You, a model? Please.

The Association of Teenagers

Rogue,

We have some major stuff to tell you.

Kitty is in looooooveeeee!

With Andrew!

I know, we all suspected it, right? But now she's confirmed it...he asked her out for Friday night! And you thought she'd NEVER get over Petey!

We figured it out (Me and Bobby: Super Sleuths!) when we caught her drooling into her mashed potatoes at dinner (which you missed) and then we cornered her afterwards. I mean, how good are we?

Quite, I think.

We hope you feel better.

Jubilee & Bobby

AKA: Nancy Drew and that guy Nancy Drew always hangs out with!

Rogue,

This is astounding work, absolutely astounding!. We are so pleased at the example you're setting for some of our less, shall we say...enthusiastic members.

No, no, don't get off the couch and do your math homework! Scott always writes the answers to the hard ones on the board anyway! Don't start that essay for Law and Government-it's not due until Tuesday! Don't start reading ahead in English! It's such a boring book, and Jubes already has the SparksNotes! So grab a Coke from the kitchen, sit back, and relax, Rogue. You have absolutely no homework today.

Proudly,

The Association of People Who are Going To Fail High School (and most likely life as well)

Rogue!

17 days till Christmas! What should we get Kitty for Hanukkah?

-Jubes

Jubilee,

Cd's? Books? Andrew? :)

-Rogue.

Keltie,

What happened in the principals office? I hope they do salt the walk in front of your school. There's a boy here who—

Rogue,

Are you completely devoid of human emotion? Or are you just deaf? Or blind? Or both? Did you even notice that your BEST FRIEND (Kitty, or do we have to remind you?) just ran from the room crying, or are you too involved in that letter to a stranger to care?

Fix this situation now, or your membership in this society will be in serious jeopardy.

Disappointedly,

The Best Friends Club

KITTY! LOOK AT THIS NOTE! SLIDING UNDER THE DOOR!

I know you're there, I can hear you crying. What just happened? Me n' Jubes are so confused.

YEAH, KITTY, WHAT HAPPENED? I'LL ADMIT SCOTT'S SPEECH ON QUADRATICS WAS BORING ME TO TEARS, BUT KITTY, YOU LIKE QUADRATICS-

Stop stealing the pen away from me Jubilee!

From your concerned friends,

Jubilee and Rogue

Keltie,

Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner, things have been incredibly hectic around here. It feels like everything is happening at once.

My friend Kitty got asked out my this guy Andrew in our class. Andrew is a sweetheart..goofy and adorable. But today in math class she ran out of the room sobbing, and she won't tell us why. She's just sitting on her bed right now, watching music videos and not talking to us.

Plus, that guy John, the one I told you about in my letter, the one who Sean reminded me off, wrote me this e-mail when I got back from Chicago, and it made me so mad.

I don't know how I can really explain to you what happened with John. I'm not even sure what happened myself, to be honest, and I considered the guy one of my best friends. I guess the simplest way to put it is that he went off and became an evil minion to one of those mutant terrorist groups you mentioned in your second letter. Please don't think that reflects AT ALL on what the Professor teaches us here. It doesn't. John was just a huge ego-maniac and now his recklessness is biting him in the ass, it sounds like.

The thing is, I'm not really sure if I should tell Bobby about it. Bobby is my boyfriend, have I mentioned that? Bobby and John were pretty close. When I came along, I think I messed up their dynamic a bit...although, I'm not sure either of them minded. Anyway, Bobby's been pretty down since John left. I think he feels like he could have stopped it, if he'd payed more attention to John. Plus, he misses his friend. I have a feeling if I tell him about the e-mail, he'll tell the Professor and then they'll try to organize some kind of big rescue mission to retrieve John, and despite the tone of his letter, I'm certain that would be a mistake. John is just looking for attention, he always was.

Anyway, I talk to much about myself. Back to your problems.

Leah and Ben have to kiss? God, that must be killing you. I'm so sorry you have to through that. In fact, I'm sending you this bracelet I found when I was shopping for Christmas presents. I thought the little charms were adorable, and they kind of apply to your situation, don't you think?

I probably shouldn't say this, but you're kind of lucky that your aunt cares enough to try and teach you things like that. I didn't know that thing about the pantyhose. Do you think everyone around me has noticed and are all laughing at my horrible faux pas? I think they have. :) But, honestly, I thought your tip about the pencil crayons was much more applicable to my everyday life. I told Jubilee about it and she got pretty excited, bouncing out of the room to go raid the Art cupboard. Your aunt should have appreciated that more.

I have to go eat dinner now, as Sean and Andrew are banging on our door and singing a very inappropriate song to get us to come out. Looks like Sean is coming out of his shell now that he's met his match in Andrew.

Hugs, and things that are cute and sparkly,

Rogue.

P.S. It's after dinner and I don't feel so great. Do you happen to know if you can get food poisoning from spaghetti?

Rogue,

Look over here! On the doorknob!

Jubilee, Siryn and I are thinking about having girls night tomorrow, to celebrate Christmas Break...you know, face masks, nail polish, Christmas movies, candy canes, the whole shebang (stop laughing Jubilee...it's not that funny of a word!).

Whadda ya say?

Kitty (and Jubilee)

Hey beautiful,

Foozball, tomorrow night, you and me?

Love ya,

Bobby

Rogue,

The Professor and I are free tomorrow night if you want to come down to the med-lab. We think you're making some real progress.

Hank

Rogue,

You've already told your friends that you can't hang out with them tomorrow, right? Because you're going down to the med-lab?

Of course you haven't! How silly of us! We see why trying to get rid of those disgusting blackheads on your nose takes priority over TRYING TO CONTROL YOUR MUTATION. And we agree-social interaction really does make up for a TOTAL LACK OF PHYSICAL CONTACT!

Just remember, Rogue, that while someone MIGHT get close enough to see those blackheads, and while it might be fun to snuggle up with Bobby after a nice game of foozball, THAT'S AS CLOSE AS YOU'LL GET. And seeing how the Professor and Hank are the only ones with a chance of helping you (since you're so resistant to helping yourself) maybe you should just save everyone the trouble and follow the advice of The Association of Teenagers.

Forget the greenhouses, Rogue. We suggest you take the socks out of your drawer and climb in there yourself.

The Manager,

The Society Of Mutants that Can't Control Their Mutations, (But Could If They Just Tried)

Rogue,

You think you're so popular, don't you Rogue? Receiving notes from all these people, just dying to spend their free time with you?

We don't think so.

Kitty and Jubilee only invited you because they can't exactly have a girls night in your room without inviting you, can they?

Bobby only wants to play foozball with you because John isn't here and he has no one else to play with.

The Professor and Hank think you're a waste of space and only waste their time helping you because you're a fantastic example of evolution gone wrong.

Pull down the blinds, Rogue, shut the door, and cry into your pillow. No one's listening. No one cares.

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Dear Rogue,

Only a true teenager would be able to keep Bobby Drake wrapped around their finger.

A true teenager would have graciously accepted Bobby's invitation to play foozball with him, instead of getting Kitty to pass him a note during Math class.

A true teenager would not have skipped out on spending time with her boyfriend to hang out in the med-lab while teachers ran a multitude of tests on her (And instead of getting sulky and mad when Bobby asked Stephanie to play fooz-ball with him, a true teenager would have laughed wittily at something that Andrew had said).

And finally, a true teenager would have thought to bring extra clothes when she went down to the med-lab so that the next time she saw Bobby, Peter, and Sean in the rec room, she would not be wearing a ratty gym shirt and sweat pants.

You seem to have trouble following our earlier suggestions. We now suggest that you take the socks out of your drawers and climb in there yourself.

Yours sincerely

The Association of Teenagers

Rogue,

DO NOT get your hopes up. This is NOT an invitation to join our society. Not that we think you're horribly disfigured or anything, but you've got to be kidding. Ever seen your hair, Rogue? Ever seen those bags under your eyes in the morning?

Anyway, we're sure you don't need to be told that twice.

We hear that you have been receiving letters from the Cold Hard Truth Association and the Association of Teenagers? We just wanted add our wholehearted support to their sentiments regarding your (ahem) boyfriend, Bobby

There are certain kinds of people in this world, Rogue. Beautiful people, Average people, and people so Unfortunate that we pretend they don't exist. It is perfectly okay for an Average girl to date an Average boy, Rogue. Sometimes, an Average girl may even date an Unfortunate boy, depending how desperate she gets. Sometimes it is even okay for a Beautiful boy to date an Average girl, if she is quirky and charming and can teach the boy about the wonders of life or indie rock music (See, for example: Garden State, Elizabethtown, any movie staring Zooey Deschenal).

Bobby is a Beautiful boy. You, Rogue, are on the South side of Average, nearing the Edge of Unfortunate. You are neither quirky nor charming, and your taste in music leaves everything to be desired. This makes your relationship with Bobby completely inappropriate, and if we're completely honest, baffling.

Be careful Rogue, be very, very careful, or Bobby will ditch you for someone more appropriate. Like Kitty, or one of those Victoria's Secret catalogue models that you always find lying around near the boy's room (the catalogues, not the models).

With very kindest wishes,

The Society of Beautiful People (SOB. P)

Rogue,

I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU MISSED SEEING PATRICK SWAYZE WITH HIS SHIRT OFF!

You missed a really good time tonight. Although it's nice that you could come up for the end of "Elf".

The thing is, I can understand why you ditched us to hang out with Hank and the Prof, and I can understand why you didn't bother brushing your hair after running those tests, and I can understand why you pretended you were more focused on eating your candy cane than watching Andrew's lame impression of a reindeer.

What I don't understand is why you even bother pretending to get mad when Bobby hangs out with other girls.

Jubilee.

Jubilee,

I don't know what you're talking about. I'm going swimming, I'll see you in the morning.

-Rogue.

Rogue,

Thank you so much for the bracelet! It was very sweet of you to think of me. It is so cute, and you're right, it does apply to my life :)

Sigh. I'm sitting in the auditorium, watching the play rehearsals.

Why do I do this to myself? It's getting to the scene where Leah and Ben have to kiss, and I can't look away. It's like I do this on purpose. I guess that means I'm masochistic, doesn't it? That's courtesy of my SAT word-of-the-day calendar (my aunt's get me the coolest presents-not!) I'm not even sure if it applies to this situation, but I think it does. I watch the rehearsals, I watch them kiss, and it hurts, and yet I do it anyway. All because I don't have the guts to tell Ben how I feel about him.

Thanks for your last letter, too. It makes my day when I can walk by the staff room and pick up a letter from you, even though this one wasn't exactly cheerful. I feel bad for that guy John. From what you've said, it doesn't seem like he knew how to reach out for help, and was probably very insecure and self-conscious.

I didn't come up with that on my own. That was my psychology teacher talking. I told her about John (not using his name, or anything specific) and that was what she said. That kind of thing is textbook, she told me, and I'd know that too if I ever read my textbook, instead of writing notes to my friends in class. I told her to take it up with Mr. Sooter, as he's the one who thought the Joy of the Envelope was such a brilliant idea. She told me to stop being a smart-ass and sit down.

I didn't realize stating the obvious qualified me for the smart-ass distinction. Leah told me I try to hard to get a rise out of people, but she was smiling. Ben was smirking at me. He clearly is in love with me.

I don't ALWAYS try to get a rise out of people. School is just so boring, and teachers act like it's totally normal for people who are practically adults to be corralled into this building every day and listen, unquestioningly, to the knowledge they spew forth. I know for a FACT that several people find me highly entertaining, so really, I'm just providing a service to my fellow prisoners. I mean classmates.

I didn't know you had a boyfriend. What's he like? Is he cute?

So, it's the day before Christmas break, which should mean that we wouldn't be able to talk to each other for two weeks, but I'm going to give you my address so that you can still write to me and tell me what is going on in your world.

Maybe we can get a coffee or something over the break? It would be great to meet you in person. Then again, I'm going to be really busy. There are a couple of parties going on around here...maybe you could come to one of them? If you're interested, I'll give you the addresses.

You know what? I never got around to asking you what your mutation is. I realize that's a really bold question, but in the newspaper they talk about all these dangerous mutants with killer powers, so it would be kind of cool and terrifying if you were one of those. How about Kitty and Jubilee?

Oh, come on! Sorry, but the drama teacher is making them kiss over and over, and over again, and I don't think I can take much more of this. Emma's at the door anyway, which means my dad is here to pick me up. Wow, she does not look happy.

Eat something good for dinner tonight (not spaghetti)

-Keltie

For Rogue When She Gets Back From Swimming

Hiya! I thought that I might get a chance to say good-bye to you before my parents came to pick me up for Christmas, but I guess your fish genes are acting up again and you had to get in the pool.

Just kidding. Wear a swim cap this time though! I'll love you no matter what your hair looks like, but if I recall you didn't enjoy looking like you were radioactive.

I left your present under the tree. Have a really great Christmas and I'll see you when I get back.

Love you,

Bobby

Rogue,

Get out of the pool right now. I have some Very Important News to tell you. I found out why Kitty has been acting so weird lately.

-Jubilee

To: Keltie_Matthews@freemail.com

From: Rogue@XaviersSchool.edu.org

Subject: Thank God

Keltie,

I'm so glad you gave me your address. I need an excuse to escape the Absolute and Total Chaos that is Christmas at the mansion.

First of all, combining an excess supply of candy canes with my good friend, Ms. Jubilation Lee? Recipe for disaster if I ever heard one.

Mix in lovesick, hormonal teenagers, a love letter from an ex-boyfriend, a sweet and confused new boyfriend, and mutant powers? Well, let's just say the boathouse will be good as new by next year. I can't say the same for the birds.

I guess I should give you some background information. We had this friend, Peter, who used to go to school with us. He was awesome-a real sweetheart, talented, and hotter than hell with the blower on-i.e., very hot. He was also very, very in love with my dear friend Kitty.

So they were dating pretty much from right after I got to school until right after the mansion was attacked and the whole world changed. And then Peter's little sister, got sick, and he went back home to Russia to help his family. The Professor offered to help, but Petey said it was his duty to go, etc. Let me tell you that on top of everything else, saying bye to Pete almost destroyed Kitty. She didn't come out of our room for days. And what made it worse was that everyone was grieving then, so I think Kit felt EXTRA guilty that she was moping over her boyfriend when everyone else had this other stuff on her mind.

When it had been over a month and she still hadn't heard from Peter, she started getting worried. But then Jubilee overheard the Professor talking to Logan and apparently Peter had been giving him weekly updates on his sisters condition. WELL. Jubes and I were worried that would be the last straw for Kitty, and we'd NEVER get her out of her room, but instead of being sad when she heard this, Kitty got angry. Really angry. Which turned out to be exactly what she needed because she finally washed her hair, came out of her room, and told us she was ready to move on. That night we had a campfire in the back garden and Jubes and I spiked her Coke with bourbon and we talked about how stupid boys were. And how all the boys we knew had this saviour complex and this sense of twisted honour, so even when they're doing the "right thing" they end up hurting someone anyway. Not that I know from experience or anything.

After that point, things started getting a lot better. She even started almost-dating this guy Andrew in our year. So OF COURSE Peter had to go screw it up by sending Kitty a letter telling her he still loved her. Classic, right? I mean, I know his sister is sick and that totally sucks for him, but why did he have to mess with her head like that? It's so dumb. So now Kitty is confused, and Andrew's walking around with this look on his face like he wants to punch a wall, and Jubilee is trying to make everyone feel better by getting me involved in one of her harebrained schemes.

WHATEVER. It's Christmas, I don't want to think about boys anymore.

The Mansion looks so pretty right now. It's literally COVERED in holiday decorations. And I'm sure you've seen all this snow we've been getting? I'm writing this in the library, which has huge picture windows, so I can see the snow falling down softly on the grounds. It looks like a Norman Rockwell painting, if Normal Rockwell ever painted a snowball fight that involved teleportation and fireworks.

I grew up in Mississipi, so a white Christmas is like, a Big Deal for me. How about for you? Are you one of those people that hates Christmas? I've always loved it, although I hated how it seemed to get less special every year. This year, I'm actually really excited, though. I have a roof over my head and good friends and the best surrogate family I could have asked for. As far as I know, there's no threat of being kidnapped, attacked, or used in an evil genius's plan. There's just one thing missing, but I have a good feeling about this Christmas.

To reply to some of the stuff you said in your last letter, yes I do have a boyfriend. His name is Bobby Drake. He is about 5'9 and has dark blond hair and blue eyes. He's gone for Christmas because he's trying to patch things up with his parents, who weren't exactly pleased when they found out he was a mutant. We call him Iceman because, well, he makes ice. Kitty can walk through walls and Jubes gets this weird energy thing from her hands. Don't ask me what it's called. And I can–(illegible scribbling)

I would love to get coffee over the break, but I'm not sure I'll be able to make it to any of those parties. Do you go to parties a lot? Sounds like it. I guess going to school here has left me deprived of some teenage rituals like that.

If you want to make Ben jealous, I can always give Sean your number. He's pretty hot, I think, but the thing is, he's also very annoying, and he is getting on my nerves lately. He can be the biggest jackass ever, seriously, with the way that he has a snarky comeback for everything, but then again, he can be really sweet. Like the other day, Kitty had a run-in with some kids at the mall, and Sean offered to find them,and rip them apart, limb from limb, and then stab them with toothpicks and make them take bath in vinegar. Nice, right?

I don't think that you are a masochist, not really. I sort of said something about your problem to Ororo, (she's the teacher that assigned us this project) and she said some things that I think really make sense.

First, you probably want to make sure nothing is actually going on between them.

Second, you probably want to make it as awkward as possible for them, as your own personal form of revenge. I'm not saying this is conscious revenge, but it can't be easy for them to kiss day after day, if you guys are all as close as you say you are. It probably makes it even more awkward for them if you're there.

Okay, the second part was all me, not Ororo. She seemed a little too pleased that we were getting along so well. Hmm. I'll have to make sure Jubilee whips up another ingenious plan before the holidays are over. We can't let the teachers get too cocky.

Write back, hopefully before Christmas (4 more days),

Rogue.

Rogue,

That's more like it. Staging an elaborate scavenger hunt to take your best friend's mind off of her ex-boyfriend. Teaming up with Jubilee to make sure that Kitty and Andrew achieved the maximum time alone during the scavenger hunt was further example of your brilliance during this operation!

And we're sure the Professor will understand that the boathouse was just a necessary casualty of war.

Good Work,

The Best Friends Club

To Rogue and Jubilee,

Your detention will be served at 5:00 sharp. I know a card catalogue that needs to be updated electronically, and it has your names all over it...

-Scott

ROGUE! LOOK AT THIS NOTE! PINNED TO YOUR SWIMSUIT!

I think he gets more sadistic every day.

See you in the library, my quick-typing friend!

-Jubes

To: Rogue@XaviersSchool.edu.org

From: Keltie_Matthews@freemail.com

Subject: Re:Thank God

Wait...kidnapped? Has this happened before? I hope you were just joking, but if not...please explain!

Forgive me for saying this, but it seems like you're not exactly enthusiastic about this Iceman dude...is he like a total jerk or something? Because I have some powerful friends here at school who, ice powers or not, could probably kick his ass if you asked. Just say the word, (it's potato, by the way) and six over aggressive, attitude-adjustment-needing, too-much-time-on-their-hands 16 year olds are the way.

Also, uh...mansion? That sounds like a prissy private school girl thing to me. I'm sorry but it does. I wish MY library had big picture windows I could watch the snow fall from. I wish we had "grounds". No, all we've got in our library are windows that are too far up to see out of, and they even have bars on them. Like a PRISON. By the time snow falls into the school yard it's already slush because of the multitude of smokers who stand outside in between classes pretending they're cool and not freezing their asses off.

I can tell from your unintelligible writing that you don't want to tell me what kind of power you have, and that's cool. Don't worry about it. It's probably something I wouldn't want to tell a lot of people about, either.

About the going-to-parties thing, I guess I do kind of go to a lot of parties, but it's not really something I think about. It's just how it's always been around here I guess. It's not like there's anything better to do.

I love your teacher's analysis of why I keep on watching the kissing scene between Ben and Leah, and it made me feel so much better. I'm not sure why. This is kind of embarrassing, but sometimes I just get this feeling like I'm on a whole other plane than most people, you know? Or like maybe I have mental issues or something because I do things like watch them kiss over and over or sometimes I just hate everyone SO much just for no reason. It feels like maybe there's this really awful thing inside of me, and when I spend too much time thinking about it I get really sad, but then I don't know why I'm sad, you know? You probably think I'm crazy or something, now. Maybe I am.

Some interesting developments happened over the weekend. One, exciting and humorous, the second SO HUMONGOUS AND BIG AND EXITING THAT IT MUST BE DESCRIBED IN CAPITAL LETTERS.

Okay, the first and less exciting development:

My sister got her period. I know this doesn't sound so great, but it was her first one, and I wasn't there to help her with it. This wouldn't seem so bad except that we live alone with our dad, and he had to deal with it all on his own for the first time. My sister transcribed several of the conversations that went on over the weekend. Here are a couple for your entertainment:

Dad: Wha...but why? Your sister is 16, and she hasn't...hasn't...
Emma: She got hers when she was eleven. She called Aunt Carolyn to ask her what to do.
Dad: That's not possible. How did she get the money to buy all the...er...stuff?
Emma: Um...her allowance?

This is actually, though not as humorous as the others, the best conversation of all, because my dad told me that he would be increasing my allowance by 7 bucks a week to compensate for all the money I spent in the last 5 years. Ha! He doesn't know that most of the money came straight out of his wallet when he wasn't looking.

Second conversation:

Dad: It lasts seven days! And it comes every month!

And my personal favorite (Emma has added in the actions):

Emma: Dad, I need to buy some tampons
Dad: What? I just bought you about $50 worth of them!
Emma: No, dad, tampons.
Dad: What the hell is the difference?
Emma: (raising her eyebrows, but blushing furiously) Do you really want to know?
Dad: (Slaps his credit card down on the table) Go! Buy whatever you want!

So yeah, that was the less exciting thing that happened while I was away. The next really big thing is so big, I have to save it for the next letter because I'm tired and have to go to bed.

Love,

Keltie.

PS. I'm going to Baltimore to visit my family tomorrow for Christmas, and I'm only coming back on the day after so I wont be able to get any email.

P.P.S. As much a I would like to use Sean to make Ben jealous, I could never do that to Ben.

To: Keltie_Matthews@freemail.com

From: Rogue@XaviersSchool.edu.org

Subject: Mele Kalikimaka!

Merry Christmas! I snuck up here to write you this e-mail before dinner. Jubilee is having a field day downstairs...she reminds me of a small child sometimes, with the way that boxes and wrapping paper can entertain her for hours. Kitty and I have been much more focused on our actual presents! Which were pretty amazing. How about you? Did you get anything cool for Christmas?

Hold on while I go look at your letter again.

Those convos between your dad and your sister are hilar! I showed Kitty and she said she went through the same thing. Ahh, growing up...what a painfully awkward experience!

Speaking of growing up...I don't think you're crazy. I know I'm only 18 and so it's not like I have eons of experience over you, but certain life experiences have taught me a lot of things, so I'm going to share them with you.

I ran away from home when I was 17. For 5 months I lived on the road, basically, hitching rides from truckers and working odd jobs and trying to save up enough money to head north. I met a lot of people during this time, good people and bad people and that was how I met Logan. After the whole ordeal with Magneto (don't worry, I'll explain it) I suddenly found myself living in a mansion, going to school, having friends, and even a boyfriend. Can you say Cinderella story much? I mean, it's not like everything was peachy from then on, but it was a pretty sweet deal.

The funny thing was that while I was on the road, there would be days when I would be almost broke, but I'd have food in my stomach and a place to sleep that night. Even though things were still pretty bad, I'd find myself grinning as the road went by, when a really good song came on the radio, or I had a good conversation with a truck driver. I had happy moments, and sometimes...sometimes here, I'll be hanging out with my friends, and we'll be stuffing our faces in the kitchen or lounging in my bedroom and I'll be wearing hundred-dollar jeans, and even though I know I should feel over-the-moon happy, suddenly I'll just feel so, so, sad. For absolutely no reason.

I used to think it was because of the other personalities in my head (seriously, just be patient, it's coming) but when I talked to Kitty and Jubilee about it once, they said they get the same thing. And it's not really that we're upset for NO reason, it's usually that we're upset about something but we don't know how to describe it, or don't want to describe it, or it feels stupid or insignificant or too vague to put a name to.

I also think that sometimes we feel things inside that don't correspond with what's going on outside, and that's normal. I think it's part of growing up.

I don't know about you, but I'm ready to be done growing up. I'd really prefer to have all the answers now, thanks very much.

Okay, this e-mail has been serious enough already, but it wasn't meant to be this long. I wrote you a letter yesterday that I actually put in the mail (with a stamp and everything) so you should get it in a few days. I wanted to write you this e-mail as a bit of a warning because you might not want to be friends with me after you read it. Basically, it explains everything that happened in the last year and a half, from when I first found out I was a mutant, to about 4 months ago. If you remember, that was about the time the world seemed like it was about to come to an end and President McKenna did his about-face on mutant affairs. This letter should explain all of that.

It's going to sound crazy, and maybe you'll think I'm even making it up. I'm not though, I swear. It took me a really long time to write out and I even had to go ask a couple of people to make sure I had my facts straight. It shouldn't need to be said, but I'm going to anyway: This is super confidential. Please don't share this with anyone. And if you don't want to be friends after, that's okay. But you should! Because I'm awesome. And my life should be a movie. Kitty thinks Brittany Snow should play her, and apparently "that dude that was in that movie, you know the one I'm talking about, Rogue!" should play Logan. According to Jubilee. I guess he's the one with the hair. Zac Effron could play my boyfriend and we'd all live happily ever after until the sequel, in which all our characters would be destroyed and we'd gross like, 3 dollars.

Sounds good, as long as I see a portion of that 3 dollars.

Anyway, have a Happy New Year and don't forget to tell me that BIG HUMONGOUS NEWS!

Love and disco balls,

Rogue

Rogue,

Welcome to another year.

Just one more year for you to screw up and regret. Another year to push away friends and make new enemies, to slip on banana peels, burn cookies, and choke on your own words. Another year that Logan isn't here and neither is Jean, or John. Another year for you to have other people's nightmares, and wish for your own.

Cheers!

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Rogue,

Also, admit it. You thought Logan would be home for Christmas, didn't you? You thought he'd show up on his snow covered sleigh (okay, motorcycle), stomp his boots on the mat, and announce that he was staying for good now. You thought he might even have a present for you, something exotic and beautiful for you to wear in place of his dogtags.

At the very least, you expected a phone call. And what did you get? Nothing.

See all that leftover wrapping paper from Christmas Rogue? We suggest you use it to cover your face for the remainder of the year. While you're at it, roll yourself out to the curb with the dead Christmas trees.

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Students,

Just a reminder that your mid-term examinations will begin approximately one month from now, on the week of January 31st-February 3rd.

I maintain that this is no reason for undue panic or stress. However, some students may find it helpful to start preparing now, instead of the night of January 30th?

Have a wonderful New Year.

Sincerely,

Professor Xavier

Rogue,

Didja see X's New Years post in the Main Hall? No need to panic or stress? Then why are all the teachers piling on so much work? I feel like I'm about to cave in under all this pressure.

Jubes and me are going to the mall after. Wanna come?

Kitty

Kitty,

I know what you mean...Scott is going to kill me...I still haven't finished the trig assignment he gave us over the holidays...and he's already given me an extension.

I think I'll forgo the shopping. I'm just going to take a Tylenol and get started on my Physics homework. Have fun!

Rogue

Rogue,

Maybe simply taking a Tylenol isn't such a good solution. Perhaps curling up in a ball and dying would be preferable?

Yours Truly,

Helpful Suggestions at Your Service, Inc

Rogue,

I guess you forgot about our meeting last night? No need to worry about it, but do be sure you come to the next one. We're never going to figure this thing out unless you make an effort. See you next week.

Hank

ROGUE! LOOK AT THIS NOTE! HANGING FROM THE CEILING FAN!

Why didn't you come shopping with us? I thought it was going to be a weekly ritual from now on? Way to let me down. You better come next time, we saw this shirt that would look great on you.

James from Starbucks says hi. He's that guy that always sits in the corner with a baseball cap, remember? You know the one we thought was a rapist/pedophile/evil minion of Magneto's sent to spy on us? Funny story: It turns out he was just trying to channel the spirit of his dead wife. Man, am I relieved!

Jubilee

Rogue,

I know things are getting stressful, what with exams and all, but that history assignment is three days late. I'm going to have to give you a zero if it's not on my desk by Friday.

Ororo

Rogue,

No! What are you doing? This is not right. Are you actually...doing your homework?

We're confused. Because we know that what you really want to do is go downstairs and watch Friends reruns while filing your nails. Or, better yet, crawl into bed and put your head under the covers. We know that your brain is getting fuzzy and your vision is getting blurry and those numbers look like tiny bugs marching across the page.

So tell us, Rogue, why are you still at your desk?

If you don't straighten up and fly right, we may have to dismiss you from our Society.

The Society of People Who Are Going to Fail High School
(And most likely life too)

To: Rogue.XaviersSchool.edu.org

From: Address Withheld

Hey,

So, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to write to you again, but here I am. I'm sure it's pissing you right off, but I just remember how easy it was to talk to you sometimes. Before you and Bobby became an item.

"What?" you're thinking. "John saying something obnoxious about me/my personal life choices? Shocker." I've realized recently what a big mouth I have. It's getting me into a bit more trouble here than it ever did at school. Go figure.

Hey, do you remember last Christmas when Bobby and Kitty had gone home, and it was just me, you, and Jubilee of the older kids left? I remember thinking how happy you looked when we played the pranks on the younger kids and the teachers. After, when the two of us sat by the Christmas tree eating chocolate oranges and you told me that sometimes you really wished you could go home, too? That was the first time I felt I really got to know you.

But then Bobby came back, and things got back to normal, and it seemed like you had put Christmas Rogue away, and Regular Rogue came back. After that I started to notice all the different masks you put on. Maybe masks is the wrong word. Versions of you. There was Exam Rogue, who would keep all of us from getting stressed out by bringing us coffee the night before the test, the whole time telling us that we needed to get sleep. I really never figured out how you did so well, with all the time you spent looking after us.

Then there was Friday night Rogue, who would get dressed up with Kitty and Jubilee even if we weren't really doing anything and get all giggling and smiley, until some point in the night when I'd look over and see something sad in your eyes. I used to wonder why. I still do.

Oh, there was also movie Rogue, the one who would drag us all out to rent a movie, and after you had finished shushing us about a million times, would start pointing out all of the little things that nobody else noticed. Or get really quiet and sit looking at the t.v with this glazed expression on your face, and it was hard to tell if you were even watching at all.

You should be an actress. I know I've suggested it to you before and you told me about that time in third grade when you forgot all your lines on opening night, and then threw up on the stage, but seriously. You can look like you're having the best of times, and then I'll catch your eye. It takes just a second for you to react, but I always see some underlying emotion there, and I don't get it. Why do you pretend so much? Why do I have to look at exactly the right moment to catch you doing it?

Anyway, I've been on this computer for over an hour now, and I'm not even supposed to be here. And you should be studying for exams. It's about that time, isn't it?

John

DELETED EMAIL:

No. You cannot do this to me John. You aren't here anymore. You left, okay? You are no longer a part of my life, and you aren't allowed messing with my head now. Not now. I have too much to freaking deal with, and I don't need you, along with Ororo, Scott, Kitty, Jubilee, Bobby, and the Professor and Hank, not to mention the oh, about THREE THOUSAND VOICES IN MY HEAD up my ass right now. You do know that Kitty can figure out where your writing from in about three seconds, don't you? I would get her to do that too, except for the fact that I DON"T CARE. I don't care about you, or your stupid lame attempts to make me feel sorry for you. I don't care if Magneto isn't the great guy you thought he was, and life as an evil minion isn't all it's cracked up to be.

It's not going to work this time, John. If you want to come home, then do it. Don't send me these immature, lame attempts at a cry for help, because I'm not going to tell the Professor. There isn't going to be a rescue team knocking at the door of Magneto's evil lair anytime soon. So give up the act, because I'm through with caring. There was a time, once, when I would have, but you pretty much destroyed that chance when you left us to die. Leave me the hell alone.

Rogue,

Wow. I mean Wow. Did you drug that letter or something, because...Wow. Make a movie out of your life? Hell, you should have your own comic book. They should have trading cards with your name on them. Action figures, a book series, THERE SHOULD BE T-SHIRTS WITH YOUR FACE ON THEM. And an amusement park too.

I cannot believe that all of that stuff actually happened to you. I'm at a loss for words. Actually, that's not true, I'm never at a loss for words. In fact, I feel so stupid for even telling you all of my stupid lame problems. I should be, like, kissing the ground at your feet. Now I seriously can't tell you what happened at New Year's.

Do you have exams soon? We do. I hate exams.

Keltie

Dear Ms D'Ancanto,

Yes, we can replay that for you:

"Where's the kid?"

Again?

"Where's the kid?"

One more time?

"Where's the kid?"

Unfortunately, we cannot tell you who said it. We can replay, fast-forward, rewind, and put things in slow-motion. Black and white, high-definition, 3-D, however you want. We can't however, tell you who said it. And quite frankly, we don't care. You understand, don't you?

Of course you do.

Sincerely,

The Instant Replay Society

Rogue

Perhabs id would be a good idea dnot to visid Logan undill you can breathe dnormally. He bight be slighdly disgusted if your dose bmelts righd off your face.

Sdiffelly,

Helpful suggestions at your service, Ltd

Rogue

Did we hear that right? Was that Logan that we just heard in the hall...! Is he back for real? What are you waiting for? Go say hi! Or...wait–-don't! Wait for him to come find you!

Anxious but also Extremely Excited, Inc.

Rogue, this is a good thing. You've been waiting for Logan to come back since forever...Remember? You have absolutely nothing to worry about.

You guys are friends. You've been friends for a while now. You had all those great talks during the summer, and you've even talked on the phone a couple of times since he's left. Everything is perfectly normal and okay.

So what if he didn't tell you where he's been? So what if you haven't heard from him in a while? You don't care. You're cool, light, and breezy...like a fluffy cloud on a warm spring day. Just float into the entrance hall like you haven't a care in the world, and casually notice that he's back. It will all be okay.

The Take a Deep Breath And Calm Down Society

In fact, you have everything to worry about. You think Logan's going to care about seeing you? When he has all-important Secret Missions to go on? When he didn't even say good-bye the last time he left? And when the only way he ever refers to you is as "kid"?

Delusional could be your middle name, kid.

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Rogue,

Sean told me he saw a huge, scary looking guy with a cigar glaring at him in the hallway. I guess either Logan's back or Sean's been inhaling too deeply in Chem class again. Can you meet me tonight after dinner? I haven't spent any time with you since I got back.

Love,

Bobby

Keltie,

Wow. What was with that letter? What do you mean, you can't tell me what happened on New Years? Of course you can! I was afraid something like this would happen, and I really don't want you to be mad at me. Your letters are the only things that keep me sane. And I'm actually starting to cry, a little bit, now. I hate when I get this emotional.

Please, don't stop writing to me, I don't think I could get through these next few weeks without you. I have something important to tell you too, but I wont say anything until you write me back.

I'm really sorry I wrote that letter at all. I wish I hadn't, now. If you don't tell me what happened, I'm going to have to come to your school and sit outside on the unsalted walk until I figure out who you are, and force you to tell me everything.

Rogue

Notes During History

Rogue? Was that Logan we saw in the hallway?

Yep.

Did you talk to him?

Yep.

Uh, details?

Well, actually, class was about to start so I couldn't say much before I had to go get my books.

Oh. Are you disappointed?

About what?

Well...

Well, what?

Never mind...You told Jubilee that we're not skipping this afternoon, right?

Yep.

Are you okay? What's with the one syllable answers?

Kitty, I'm fine! Just leave me alone!

Rogue,

Remember when you first came to school and no one would talk to you? Remember how Kitty sat with you? Remember how she asked you questions about where you came from? And remember after the incident with Logan how everyone was terrified of you? Remember how Kitty told everyone to stop being judgmental losers? Remember how she offered you some gum?

What did you just do Rogue? You completed your physics homework before the class was done. Looks like life has really improved now that your best friend isn't talking to you.

The Best Friends Club

Hey kid,

Sorry I didn't get a chance to talk to you before your class started. Meet me in the kitchen at 8? I have something to show you.

-Logan

Rogue,

Logan has something to show you? What could it be? Perhaps he'll profess his undying love?

We wait with throbbing anticipation.

The Young Romance Society

Rogue,

The fact that you're considering, even for the tiniest millisecond, that Logan will profess his undying love for you just shows how completely pathetic you are. Logan sees you as an annoying little kid, and nothing more. He will never see you as anything else.

You disgust us,

The COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Rogue,

You don't want Logan to profess his undying love for you anyway...or do you? You love Bobby, in all his Iceman-y hotness...don't you? Besides, even if Logan did profess his undying love for you, what would you do? You can't touch him anyway...or can you overcome that?

Sincerely (we think),

The Association of the Indecisive

Rogue,

Okay, why, why, WHY would you want Logan to profess his undying love anyways? That is just gross. What is the matter with you? He's so...old. It's SO creepy that those thoughts would even cross your mind. What would everyone think, if he did profess his undying love? Can you say "statutory"?

Gross-ed Out-edly,
Senior and Co-Presidents of the
Secret Society of the Eww

Rogue,

We understand you have received letters from the COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION and the Secret Society of the Eww. We want to make it clear that we are in no way associated with these fear-mongering organizations.

Remember Rogue, that you're eighteen now. You may still be in high school, but you are perfectly within your rights to engage in a romantic relationship with whomever you like (provided, of course, that that person is also of consenting age). Not only that, but may we remind you that you have the personalities and thoughts of at least two centuries-old men, not to mention more than one teenage boy, all wrapped up in that adorable striped head of yours. There's probably not a whole lot that's going to shock you. If anyone can handle a relationship with an older man, our bets on you, kid.

Shippers for Sanity, Inc

Bobby,

Look, I'm really sorry, but I can't meet you tonight. Logan wants me to meet him later, and I don't know how long it's going to be before he leaves again and I can see you anytime, so can we maybe get together tomorrow night? If I don't get too much homework?

Thanks!

Rogue

FOR ROGUE! WHEN SHE GETS BACK FROM MEETING WITH SWORN PROTECTOR!

This has something to do with Logan doesn't it? Bobby told me he was back...Jeez Rogue, what did you say to they guy? He looked like he'd been slapped in the face (many pimp jokes come to mind, but I'll keep them to myself) What happened in history? Kitty won't tell me, but I don't think she's ready to forgive you anytime soon. You better tell me, or else I'll have to go all Danger Room on you. And you know I can do it. I'm not a quitter, like some people I know.

Jubilee

To: Rogue@XaviersSchool.edu.org
From: Keltie_Matthews@freemail.com
Subject: You'd better

tell me first, before I tell you anything. Seriously, I feel so selfish just talking about my boy problems, with all the stuff you've been going through.

Tell me or I wont tell you.

Keltie

To:Keltie_Matthews@freemail.com
From: Rogue@XaviersSchool.edu.org
Subject: You're going to

laugh. Because I've got boy problems too. Don't ever think that your problems are insignificant, because they're not. Especially to me, okay? And I'm only telling you first because I REALLY want to hear what happened to you. And I hope you're okay.

When I wrote you before, I was just going to tell you that Logan was back at the school. If you read the letter I sent (which you obviously did) than you know that he's been gone for a while and I've missed him a lot.

All of a sudden today, I walked into the hallway, and there he was, looking the same as ever in his beat-up leather jacket. I didn't have much time to talk (I had a class to get to), which was good because just seeing him made me feel all...I don't know. I had trouble getting words out and stuff, which was so embarrassing. I was pretty sure he was going to think...

Well, I don't know what he thought. But I didn't expect to see him right away. I thought he'd have a debrief with the Professor, or that he'd be tired, or want to talk to Scott or something. But then I found a note in my room asking me to meet him after dinner, and even though I got a ton of grief from Jubilee because I was ditching both her and Bobby, I went anyway because he said he had something to show me.

So I went down to the kitchen, and the first thing he said to me was "Hey kid." He had a cigar in his mouth and a beer in his hand. I pulled out some bread sticks ( I practically lived on those things after the first time he left) and a diet Coke from the cabinet, and took a seat across from him at the island

"Hey, Logan." I said. Then I did something that could have potentially landed me in the medical center: I reached over, plucked his cigar out of him mouth, and handed him a bread stick. "How're you doing?"

He grunted. "Smart-ass." But he bit off a piece of the bread stick nonetheless.

I shrugged. "Just another of the lucky traits you passed on to me."

He studied me for a minute. "What else did you get?"

I was a bit surprised. We normally don't talk about things like my mutation, or the fact that he's bouncing around in my head. Then again, our relationship has never exactly existed by normal rules of interaction, so I rolled with it.

"Uh..." I stalled for a minute. He kept on staring. "Well, for one, your cigar addiction..." I looked up at him.

"Sorry." He said, kind of low.

"It's okay," I said, " It's starting to wear off."

He looked at the bread sticks, and I was surprised to see guilt on his face. "I'll cut down."

I couldn't believe it.

"I don't think it would make a difference, unless..." I trailed off, and I think I even started to blush, because we both knew how that sentence would have ended.

Unless he touched me again.

Lucky for me, it was getting darker in the kitchen, and I don't think he noticed my embarrassment.

I took a sip of my diet Coke, as he took another sip of his beer. "What else?"

"Well..." I pretended to think for awhile, using the time to find the right words. "Sometimes, I can feel what your feeling...at least I think so. They might just be echoes of the past," (Right, now that I'm writing that down it sounds so cheesy...why did I say that?) "I'm not sure. But if you feel really vulnerable, or scared, or..." I looked up, to see him grimacing. "Or violent...sometimes I think that something awful must be happening to you."

I didn't mention that the only time I felt like that was when he was gone, or how much it scared me. I could tell that he was feeling guilty, so I told him about some of the good things.

"I still have some of your healing, though," I told him. He raised an eyebrow in interest.

"Yeah. I, uh...well, this is going to sound really stupid, but I got a paper cut in English, and Kitty noticed that it healed up almost right away."

He laughed, and I grinned, pleased to cheer him up.

We started talking, like we used to before he started leaving on all those Secret Missions. He asked me about school and Christmas and Bobby. I gave him an editted version-I didn't know how much time I'd have before he left again and I wanted to hear about him, not tell him that I was having trouble handling some stupid assignment and a cold.

He finally got around to why he'd asked me to meet him that night. It turns out that he'd been through Mississippi in the last month.

My eyes widened at this part. Had he heard something about my parents. Were they alright? I wanted to ask but I kept my mouth shut.

It turned out to be nothing like that. He reached into his bag. "I made a bit of a detour through Meridian, and I got you this." He dropped something heavy in front of me. An atlas.

He'd taken a detour to my house to get my atlas.

I know. My house

I Know. An Atlas

I KNOW: LOGAN.

It was something I'd mentioned to him so long ago, I can't believe he even remembered. But apparently he did, because it's sitting right beside me on the bed as I write this.

I need to explain about this atlas. Before I came to the school, I wanted to travel so badly. I mean, I wanted to go everywhere. My room was covered in pictures and maps, and I had plans to leave on the first of many trips right after graduation. At the time, the most important thing in the world to me was my atlas. I had marked every single place I wanted to go, and I'd taped pictures in the inside flaps, and on certain pages I'd attached lists of hotels and hostels I could stay at, and there were notes from my friends about each of the places I wanted to go. When I ran away, it was the hardest possession for me to leave behind.

And Logan, he just..got it for me. He didn't tell me how, and I didn't ask. I just sat there, staring at it for the longest time, and he sat there with me, and I couldn't look at him because my eyes were so full of tears. Finally, I threw my arms around him and said thank you about a billion times. I know for sure that he was uncomfortable, but I didn't care. After that, he said he had to go talk to the Professor, and left. I just sat in the kitchen for a while and held my book. I didn't open it; I've looked at those pages so often I know them off by heart, even now.

Eventually, Kitty came to find me, and she took one look at the book, and gave me this little smile. I must have told her about the book oh, about a million times, and she recognized it in a second. I smiled back at her and she sat down and we talked a bit, and it took me a couple of minutes before I remembered that we weren't speaking to each other. When I realized this, I stopped, looked at her, and started laughing because it was all so stupid.

And even though we both know that it wasn't really the book I was happy about, she didn't mention it. And neither did Jubilee when she came upstairs later. She just threw a pillow at us when she realized we were talking again. This is why I have the best friends ever.

Keltie, I'm so happy right now. Really, nothing can bring me down. Not Jubilee's stereo playing some annoying stuff incredibly loudly, even though it's almost 11:00, not my runny nose, not my physics homework, nothing. I can't stop smiling.

E-mail me back as soon as you get this, please!

Happily,

Rogue

You really think that this means anything? You think this feeling of contentment is going to last for long?

It wont. Logan will leave, and you'll fail your exams, and you'll probably die of some really common disease, because you're not even important enough to die of something interesting and rare.

Please reconsider this newfound happiness. It will only make it more painful (though amusing!) when everything comes crashing down around you.

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Rogue,

I'm writing this to you the old fashioned way, because it's a Monday and I can write it during class.

I'm going to tell you what happened over holidays, but it's really very stupid and I'm embarrassed to even tell you.

Okay, well, remember how I wasn't very thrilled to be going away for Christmas? Well, it's because I hate my family. Well, okay, hated them. Okay, really, they're not so bad now, because I've learned to deal with them. And it's sooo emo to say I hate my family. But they do drive me crazy.

See, after my mom left, my dad relied a lot on her sisters (my aunts) for help. And, well, they never really let him forget it. Or me. They're always really critical of me, telling me how to dress and how to act and saying that I don't help my dad out enough. It's really annoying, especially when I feel like I help my Dad out quite a lot. It upsets me how stressed out he gets, and I try to make things easier on him, but you know, I DO have my own life.

This time though, I've learned that they best way to get along with them is to just conform. I know, my family. I know, conform. I know, ME.

I just smiled at everyone, and I wore something appropriate, and I didn't attempt to snatch the Smirnoff like some of my cousins, and it worked. I ended up having an okay time, and by the time we were supposed to go home, on the 30th, I didn't want to leave (this may have had something to do with the amazing presents my Grandmother kept "forgetting" to give me). But my dad had to get back to work, and I had a party to go to with Leah and Ben, so we had to.

Now I really wish I had never left.

Alright, so New Years Eve. Leah and I are putting on our make-up for the party upstairs, Emma is sitting on my bed reading InStyle, and asking us questions about make-up and boys and the like, and we're giggling because we found out about this stuff from Leah's older sister, and Ben is downstairs watching Lethal Weapon with my dad, yelling once in a while about how slow we are.

And just like you said you felt when you got your book back, I had this huge feeling of contentment. I wasn't worrying about school or my dad looking more and more stressed out all the time, or whether or not I should tell Ben I like him. It was just so peaceful and perfect and nice. I felt like for once I had everything figured out.

Then we get to the party. It's been a tradition of ours since we were about 13 that at midnight on New Years, when all the other couples are making out, that we stand together and yell really loudly how everyone should get a room, and make rude jokes and stuff, until people start throwing things at us. But this year...Well, here is the exact time-line of everything that happened, from five seconds to midnight:

11:59:55: Ben yells something over the countdown that I can't hear properly

11:59:56: I try really hard to decipher what he just said

11:59:57: I do

11:59:58: The world stops

11:59:59: It's because he said "Sorry Keltie, I'm going to have to break our tradition this year."

12:00:00: Ben leans over, a small smile on his face, and kisses Leah.

12:00:01: -

12:00:02: -

12:00:03: -

12:00:04: People start to look over, because there is a curious lack of yelling from our corner of the room. This is what they see: Ben with his arms wrapped around Leah, Leah, finally getting over the shock wrapping her arms around him too, and me, standing in shock with this goofy smile on my face.

12:00:05: Jack, one of my buddies from the auditorium (he's the assistant producer, meaning he sits with me during rehearsal and we play tic-tac-toe, come up with dirty lyrics to the tune of the songs in the play, and throw stuff at the teachers in charge) calls my name, but it's too late, because I'm out the door, tripping over my too-high heels.

12: 34:47: I walk in the door, go upstairs as quietly as possible, head into my bathroom, turn on the shower, and cry my eyes out.

So that's what happened. Basically. I'm actually too tired to write any more, such as those interesting moments between the time I stumbled my way out the door and the time I stumbled my way up my steps, so I hope you don't mind if I don't.

I'd also really like to comment on your last letter too, I really would, but I can't. I just don't have the energy right now. I hope you understand, and I hope you feel better, and the bell just rang, so I guess I'll hear from you later.

Keltie

Rogue,

HA.

We told you things couldn't stay great for you forever. Or apparently for five minutes.

THE COLD HARD TRUTH SOCIETY

P.S: Have fun with exams!

Keltie,

I want to give you a hug right now. I want everyone in a five mile vicinity to give you a hug right now, because you need one (or forty-seven). I cannot believe you waited so long to tell me this! And it's like, two weeks after New Years! How have you been managing since then? What is going on with you and Ben and Leah?

I'm studying for exams right now, but I can't concentrate because all I can think about is you and how horrible you must be feeling.

They should make movie out of your life. And Kate Beckinsale can play you, and "That guy from that show, the show you like so much, the old evil guy who kills people, come on Rogue, we watch it every week!" should play Ben, because he is the scum of the earth and you deserve so much better than him. (Sorry, I kind of told Jubilee and Kitty about your problem, and they furious for you). And "Mischa Barton" can play Leah (okay, that wasn't up to Jubilee's standards at all), because I'm sorry, but Leah totally should have known how you felt. Well, maybe that's unfair. But to break your tradition like that? Not cool. Oh, and we are going to get Brad Pitt to play Sean, and he is going to come over to your house and sweep you off your feet. Sound good?

Except I asked Sean if it was okay if Brad Pitt played him and he's still laughing. Oh wait, he just said that if you looked like Kate Beckinsale, he'd get plastic surgery to look like Brad Pitt, so that he could date you. But only if you didn't have the weird accent she had in Van Helsing.

I hope that made you feel better. If not, write back and tell me what will make you happy.

Okay?

-Rogue

Rogue,

That was a wonderfully thoughtful and insightful letter that you just wrote. You communicated yourself with clarity and poise, and you tried to make a friend feel better. We would like to offer you a provisional membership into our society.

Forever Yours,

The Society of Thoughtful and Insightful Correspondents

Rogue,

There ya go! Much more appropriate best friend behavior. You and Kitty are friends again, and you're helping another friend get over heartbreak.

As we say, there's nothing like complete and utter desolation to bring two friends closer together.

The Best Friends Club

Rogue,

Perhaps we weren't being clear enough. YOU ARE EIGHTEEN. For some reason, this fact continues to evade you, and we cannot find an explanation for it. Scratch that, we can find an explanation for it: You are completely devoid of any teenage-like brain cells. Gallivanting around with a man who could be three, four, forty-seven times your age? That's behavior for university, hon, which you would know if you turned off the Discovery Channel long enough to watch something a little more useful, like One Tree Hill, or even Gossip Girl!

And actually making up with one of your friends? You're supposed to be gossiping behind her back, spreading rumors, and doing other backstabbing things, not smiling at each other after a rendezvous with said 47 year old (or whatever).

Granted, your knowledge of celebrities does deserve some kind of recognition. But please Rogue, give us a break. Stop studying for exams and go do something that shows at least the tiniest sign that you are a teenager. Just a little one. Break some sort of law. Dye your hair pink. Use pen instead of pencil on your math homework.

Exasperatedly,

The Association of Teenagers

Rogue,

Um...just a question: You are going to start studying, right? Because you know, exams ARE only a week and a half away, and you haven't really...done anything. At all. Oh, well, you did draw up that schedule for yourself, outlining all of the times you were going to study before your first exam. It really was pretty, Rogue, don't get us wrong. And those flowers really gave it that extra je ne sais quoi.

And we're sure that your friends really appreciate those cookies you've been baking to help them de-stress. And the scented candles you put all around the room.

And yeah, we suppose watching Law and Order does help you review for Law and Government, although we're not quite sure how the Breakfast Club helps you in History. Even though it is pretty old.

But Rogue? You have to actually open a book for it to count as studying.

Help our nerves as well as your own, and study.

Cognitively,

Your Brain

Rogue,

You really are pathetic. Underneath your elaborate display of "studying", consoling heartbroken pen pals, and secret meetings with sworn protectors, we know what you're really doing. What you are really doing is avoiding going down to the medical center every week like you told the Professor you would.

Do you really think Hank can conduct experiments on someone who is not there? Do you think someone is just going to come up with a solution to stop you from sucking the life force out of every person you ever touch off the top of their heads?

No. YOU HAVE TO BE THERE, GENIUS.

You disgust us,

The Society Of High School Mutants Who Can't Control their Mutations But Could If They Just Tried

Rogue,

Thank you so much for your letter. It made me feel so much better, but really, I'm okay. It's way better that it happened like this. Now I can just get over Ben, and things will get back to normal...

Okay.

I'm so obviously not okay. I feel torn apart. One second I feel completely and utterly betrayed, and the next second incredibly stupid because it's not my place to feel betrayed. It's not like I ever told either of them how I felt...

Although, Leah should have known, right? She was my best friend, for goodness sake, how hard could it be to figure out...

But see, that's not fair of me either.

Then I feel really angry. It's like all of this hurt and betrayal and confusion and then thrown in is the fact that I have to go back to school and act as if everything is just great. It's enough to make me want to put a hole in my wall. (Actually, I did. Just a tiny one though. More of a dent really, right next to my bed where my dad will probably never see it). I know that all of this pent up anger isn't good for me. Especially since it's interrupting how I think and feel and function day-to-day. I hate it. But...

Right. This is totally pathetic, but remember that BIG AND EXITING NEWS I was talking about a couple of letters back?

I want to stick my head in the ground just thinking about it, but I'm just really sad more than anything else. What happened was, I was sitting with Jack in the auditorium during drama practice and Leah was mysteriously absent. I think she had the flu or something- it really doesn't matter. Anyway, the drama teacher, (who I absolutely hate) asked me to fill in for Leah for a couple of scenes, and I agreed, because really, what else could I do? I was sitting in the auditorium everyday under the flimsy excuse that I was a techie/understudy/genuinely interested in theater.

Can you see where this is going? I get up there, and my face turns bright red because I realized that of course, it is the kissing scene, and oh God I'm so mortified even just thinking about it, but Ben was really nice and he kissed me and it was so great...so horrible...so...

I have to keep on telling myself to take deep breaths, but this is so hard. I know it's not the end of the world and I know that this is not the worst thing that is ever going to happen to me, but dammit, I still feel like crap.

My dad wants to take Emma and I out to dinner now for Family Fun Time (I know, you don't have to say it), so I'll have to tell you about school later.

Hugs and strawberry smoothies

Keltie

Rogue! Look!

Kitty and I have decided to stage an intervention. You have been staying in our room far too much lately, and we for one (or two) are sick of it. Tonight, at exactly 12:21 am, you are meeting us in the garage where we will sneak out (okay, not exactly, Kitty checked with Scott first) and get some frozen yogurt at the dinner downtown.

You study too much, and Kitty and I are sick of you never complaining. Tonight, I demand that you bitch and moan about whatever it is that you are so depressed about. Cause I know otherwise all that pent up frustration is going to explode, and we'll probably all die.

Jubilee

Jubilee! This note! On your binder! That is a great picture of Ewan McGreggor!

Guys,

I know you think I need an intervention, but I don't. I'm really fine, I've just been a little stressed lately, with Logan back being worried about Keltie, exams, these letters from John, all this work everyone is piling up, plus Hank and the Professor are really hounding me about going to the MedLab, and Bobby is just being so damn...

Ok.

I'll see you guys there.

Rogue

Rogue!

What are you doing! You don't have time to be gallivanting around with your friends! There is no room in your schedule for giggling, girl talk, free time, frolicking, fun, amusement, recreating, pleasure...(don't even think about cavorting!) You have studying to do! Revising that needs to get done. And don't forget researching, memorizing, reviewing (and preparing) for exams (and by prepare we mean lie awake anxiously for hours while you think of the horrors to come).

Get cramming!

Nit-pickers of the World United

In association with:
Synonyms Synonymous Inc.

Rogue,

Your friends should be commended for their wonderful actions tonight. Taking you out for your favorite dessert (well, okay, your favorite low-fat dessert) right at the point when you think you are going to have a mental breakdown? And then walking back to the mansion (in the freezing cold we might add) with you instead of taking the bus, or getting Scott to pick you up, because they intuitively know that you want to avoid a certain boyfriend for as long as possible? That's friendship.

You should try it sometime, Rogue. Instead of ducking out of every event someone tries to plan for you.

The Best Friends Club

Keltie,

I can't believe how unfair life is. I can't believe you kissed Ben. I'm sorry for bringing it up, I know it is probably best for you to just forget everything, but really, life sucks. I'm so sorry you have to be going through this. You are handling everything so well though. I mean, if it was me, I'd probably have about 12 holes in my wall. And you would definitely be able to see them. I also probably wouldn't be going out for dinner, because my face would be all blotchy from crying all the time, and when my (hypothetical) father and (hypothetical) sister came to make me get out of bed to go, I'd probably say something along the lines of "I'm sorry, but I think that Complete and Utter Devastation means that moping around in my bedroom is more important than Family Fun Time."

Then again, I do hope that your dad and sister dragged you out of your room because it is very good to be getting out, not moping in your room.

SO. Here is what you are going to do. These are Rogue's Rules For Getting Over Complete and Utter Desolation: (As I have soooo much experience :D)

1) Walk out your door (you have to get out of your pajamas to do this)

2) Walk to the nearest supermarket

Buy the following things:

-Cereal, of your choice, preferably a very sugary and comforting kind like Honeycomb or Lucky Charms

-A 2 liter bottle of soda (I like diet Coke and Fresca, but it is Totally Up To You)

-Some sort of ice cream

-Something chocolate

-A huge bottle of water

-Some sort of fruit, berries are best

-A trashy magazine, either People, or Us (one or the other, you have to pick)

4) Go to the video store and get any movie that does not involve heartache, preferably ones with a lot of explosions or ass-kicking or with really awesome female leads. NO: Beaches, A Walk To Remember, Titanic, generally anything that lets you remember true love exists, okay? Good Choices: Legally Blonde, Terminator 2, Bend It Like Beckham, etc.

Some of these instructions might seem weird to you. For example, the water and berries. You are going to need those to take breaks between junk food binges. Trust me. And the cereal. Because you can shove mass quantities of it in your mouth and not really feel like you've eaten that much.

Oh, and 5) I suggest going with someone to the store, because it will be hard carrying everything back with you. I would prefer if you would go with that Jack guy, because he sounds cute, but anyone would be good.

Totally off the subject, but do you think it's normal to just forget to be sick? Because I think that's what happened to me. I've been sooo busy, and stressed out that inevitably, I got a cold. But then Logan came back, and all this other stuff happened, and I got even busier, and it just sort of slipped my mind until this morning, when I thought to myself how great it was that I wasn't sick anymore and hadn't even noticed.

And now, I'm stuffed up, sneezing, coughing, restless, lethargic, and feverish. I also happen to sound like an ad for Nyquil.

Feel better, and write back

Rogue.

P.S: Oh God, how are you getting through all this and exams? My first exam is tomorrow, any I'm freaking out, but I can't imagine how your...

Okay, I'll stop. I promise. Go. Rent movies!

ALL CORRESPONDENCE HAS BEEN CEASED AT THIS TIME TO ALLOW STUDENTS TO CONCENTRATE ON EXAMS.

Rogue,

WE'RE FREE! FREEEEEEEE! NO MORE EXAMS!

Party in the common room?

Jubilee

Rogue,

We need to talk. Can you meet me downstairs in the kitchen tonight?

Bobby

Bobby,

Sure. What's this all about?

Rogue

Rogue,

How perfect! A secret rendezvous with your boyfriend at midnight. Now is the perfect chance for you to make up for all that time you lost when you were too busy studying! Or hanging out with your friends. Or washing your hair.

The Young Romance Association

Hang on...just a minute here. Let us get our heads on straight. Is he...is he...BREAKING UP WITH YOU? He can't break up with you! You're in love! He supposed to be infatuated with you! Birds fly around his head, and little hearts fly around the little birdies' heads, whenever you walk into the room. He can't live without you! This can't be happening!

Confused,

The Young Romance Association

Rogue,

Don't Freak Out. Take deep, even breaths. Yes, it appears that Bobby is breaking up with you. And yes, it appears that there is a possibility that you will spend the rest of your life alone. But it is nothing to worry about! Think of how much time you will have for...for...free time! Er...you always wanted to take up knitting right? Like the celebrities?

Always a silver lining!

Take a Deep Breath and Calm Down Society

Rogue,

Hate to say it (but not really): We told you so. It is simply not acceptable for someone of Bobby's stature to be seen dating someone as...er, average as you. No offense.

Don't be surprised if you see Bobby strutting around the school tomorrow with a model (or three) hanging off his arm.

Kindest Regards, etc,

The Society of Beautiful People (SOB.P)

Rogue,

WE MOCK YOU

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

P.S. Buy a cat.

Rogue,

You have received letters from our affiliates, The Society of Beautiful People and the COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION? As per usual, we add our support.

But for future reference? A true teenager would not have handled this situation quite so calmly. A real teenager would have thrown that bottle of soda (the same soda that went up your nose, ever so gracefully, when Bobby first started talking) against the wall, screamed names at everyone they saw, and stomped up to their room and slammed the door, refusing to talk to their roommates.

A true teenager would not have calmly walked out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into their room with no door slamming.

However, that last bit? The part where you told Kitty and Jubilee what happened, and then burst into tears?

That was a little bit impressive. You're at least making some progress in the Drama Queen category.

The Association of Teenagers

Dear Rogue,

Based on your previous song choices, we recommend:

"What Becomes of the Broken Hearted" by Jimmy Ruffin

We think you'll agree this song is a useful addition to your iTunes library.

Sincerely,

Apple iTunes Genius Suggestions,

In Association with

The Broken Hearts Club

Rogue,

I feel terrible. I'm going to stop talking about myself from now on because I am incredibly selfish. I can't believe that you go sick because of me. Or at least I can't believe you got sick because my problem made you stressed out.

Or, maybe I'm being incredibly pompous and you actually have other things to be stressed about besides me.

In any case, I'm sorry, and I want to make it up to you. I was thinking how great it would be if we could talk face to face, and I'd really like to meet you. How about we go for a coffee or something and you can tell me everything that's been going on with you, and I can tell you what's been happening with Ben and Leah? (Look! I can write their names now and not feel burning hatred! I'm improving!)

So what do you think? Coffee? Frozen Yogurt? Yoga Class (eww...) You set the date.

Keltie

Rogue! Look at this note! Sliding under the bathroom door!

Are you ok? We know it's important that you're alone, but...

Rogue, I gotta go! Bad!

Jubilee, go away! Just tell us you're okay, please? I mean, under the circumstances?

K & J

Rogue?

K&J

Okay, we're coming in

K&J

Keltie,

I'm so so so sorry I didn't reply to your last letter. I feel horrible, but things have been crazy. You're not going to believe what just happened. It's horrible, and I'm crying now and I can't stop.

One thing you should know about me. I don't cry. Not often, and not unless I'm really upset. I'm bawling now. I can barely write this, I'm so confused, and I don't know what to do.

I know you're probably confused, as well. I'll start from the beginning:

Exams are over now, and Bobby asked me to meet him in the kitchen tonight. I didn't think anything of it…I even showed up a bit late; not thinking it would be a big deal. But then I sit down and I see the look on his face and—oh this is horrible-I laugh at him, and say that exams were over, so why is he looking so serious?

And then he launches into this whole speech about how I've been really distant lately and how it seems like I never want to spend any time with him anymore. And I realize (incredibly slowly, might I add—it was like watching one of those rats, you know the ones that keep on running into the wall, until they eventually realize that it's shocking them) that, "Oh my God, he's breaking up with me," and I should have seen it coming because really, how could anyone stand having a girlfriend they can't even touch?

Right now, I'm sitting in mine and Kitty and Jubilee's bathroom just crying my eyes out and thinking this over. And I'm remembering this cute little thing that Bobby did whenever he said something smart-ass or inappropriate. You'd say, "Excuse me?" or ask him to repeat it and he'd just say "Nothing," with this cute little smirk on his face. And I wish more than anything right now that I could just go find him and ask him to repeat what he said in the kitchen and he'd say "Nothing," in the same way.

Now I'm remembering how Bobby was the first guy who really liked me despite my mutation and took care of me and…

I guess that's not technically…well, whatever.

Anyway, I'm going for a swim, even though it's like one in the morning, because it seems like being in the water is the one of the only things that makes my head clear, and I'll finish this letter later.

Rogue

Dear Rogue,

Based on your previous song choices, we recommend:

"Poison" by Alice Cooper

"My Skin" by Natalie Merchant

We think you'll agree this song is a useful addition to your iTunes library.

Sincerely,

Apple iTunes Genius Suggestions,

In Association with

The "It's Not Emo Until You're Posting Mirror Pictures on Myspace" Club

Keltie,

Wow. Just…wow.

You won't believe how much has happened since I left the bathroom to go for that swim. I mean it. It's crazy.

I'll start from the beginning (again). Kitty and Jubilee weren't in the bedroom when I left the bathroom. I assumed that they were in the kitchen either getting comfort food to lure me out of the bathroom or cussing Bobby out. I hoped it was the first option because I would feel horrible if he thought I was taking this whole thing badly (even though I am - but he doesn't need to know that).

Anyway, I started walking down the main stairs as quietly as possible because if any of the kids woke up all they would see is a mess of a teenager creeping down the stairs, and no one need to see that at 1:15 in the morning.

So I was creeping down the stairs, and my hair was crazy and my mascara was running down my face, and there at the bottom, blocking my way, was Scott.

I was completely shocked for a moment. My first instinct was that Jean sent him, that she knew what happened, and this made me choke up again, a second later, when I remembered. I stood in front of him for a second, staring him down (as much as you can stare down someone who wears sunglasses 24/7).

"I'm going swimming." I said. Unnecessarily, as it was pretty obvious with my bathing suit and towel that I wasn't robbing a bank.

"Rogue," he said. "Come on." At first I thought he was being patronizing, like: "Rogue, come on. You are not going swimming at a quarter after one in the morning just because your boyfriend dumped you. Go get some ice cream and crawl into bed and watch all four seasons of Kitty's Felicity DVD's, like a normal teenager." I felt really, really angry for a second, until I realized that Scott wouldn't patronize me like that, and that the "Come on," was meant to comfort me. I stepped down the last step between us and he wrapped his arms around me in the kind of bear hug that was so completely appropriate for how I was feeling. The kind that I haven't had in so long because most people are too scared to even brush pass me in the halls, let alone extend gestures of physical comfort.

"Come on," he said again, and that's when I realized that I was crying on his really nice jacket, the one that Jean bought him last Christmas (and the one that Jubilee says makes him look too metro for his own good). I like it (it's really soft) and I felt horrible for crying over it, but the fact that he was wearing it meant that he was actually going somewhere, and I, apparently, was expected to follow.

By this point, I was too tired to protest, too tired to do anything but walk next to him until we reached the hangar and it sunk in that "somewhere" probably wasn't in Westchester.

"We're taking the jet?" I said, and Scott looked at me, I think both because he could hear the trepidation in my voice, and because the first words out of my mouth weren't "Where are we going?" as they probably would be if it had been Kitty next to him instead of me. Or "Hells Yeah!" if it were Jubes.

"Rogue," He said evenly as he flipped some switches on the wall and the hanger lit up, revealing the Blackbird in its huge, super-stealth glory. "You flew this thing, remember?"

"Yeah, and crashed it." I muttered. "And got sucked out of it," I added, as I started helping him haul equipment onto the jet. "Remember?"

"Smart-ass," he replied, and I smiled a little, which was a weird sensation because my face felt frozen and my cheeks were stiff from the tears, because the way he said it was so much like Logan had a few days earlier.

We finished the pre-flight check, and it wasn't until I was buckled (securely this time—I triple-checked) into the co-pilot seat that I asked him where we were going.

He took a while to answer as he opened the hangar doors and started the jet. "There's something that has to be taken care of tonight, and I'm not sure I can do it without you. That's why you're here."

I felt a glow of pride. I was needed for something. Then my mood darkened somewhat. "So this wasn't just some mission the Professor dreamed up to make me forget I've just been dumped?"

"The situations conveniently coincided." Scott smiled in my direction, but I felt myself getting angry, as we rose out of the hanger and started flying south-west.

"What, everyone thought I was going to drown myself?" I said, more harshly than I'd intended. "What is this, some alternative therapy for kids on suicide-watch? Wait, I can see the advertisement! Death Defying Missions to save the world: Watch formerly depressed teenagers miraculously transform into-"

"Rogue," Scott cut me off sharply, admittedly later than I'd expected. "Were you planning on hurting yourself?"

"Are you insane?" I half-yelled, trying to keep the edge of hysteria out of my voice. I leaned back to look at him. "Do you really think I'm that stupid?"

"Thank you." Scott said, adjusting some controls. "Do you really think that the world's strongest telepath, not to mention a very intelligent man who happens to know you quite well, couldn't realize that for himself?"

Okay, I'll admit it. I was told.

There was a moment of silence. "I'm sorry," I said. "I know I'm not being very mature. This whole thing just kind of sucks, you know?"

He glanced at me as we rose higher in the air. "Of course it does. You're a teenager. Everything sucks. Haha," he said. "Even you, out of the jet. Get it?"

"Thanks," I groaned, but I smiled nonetheless. It couldn't remember the last time I heard one of Scotts corny jokes.

"I just mean that it's been really hard for you the last couple of weeks. I know that, and your teachers know that. You're not alone."

I was so touched for a minute that I didn't say anything until Scott broke the silence by saying, "Besides, you didn't get dumped."

I sooo didn't want to have that conversation, so instead I leaned forward and said, "Hey, is that Boston?" I think he got the hint because he nodded and dropped the subject.

I know why Bobby dumped me (and yes, he did dump me) but I didn't feel like talking about it anymore. Especially with a man who had experienced way more heartache in the past few months than I could even begin to imagine.

"Wanna hear a joke?" Scott asked, after a couple of minutes of silence.

"Sure," I said, bringing my knees up to my chin and wrapping my arms around them.

"A grasshopper walks into a bar," I smile and shake my head, having heard it before.

"I'm not finished," Scott grinned, and began adding tons of inane details to the joke: "A grasshopper walks into a bar, totally pimped out. I mean, he has this totally…sick hat on his head. And his shoes, well his shoes were-well, you know. They were like, dope, or something…"

And on, and on, and on like this until I put my hands over my ears and threatened to sic Jubilee on him if he didn't stop. I also promised to do the vacuuming for a month if he never said "sick", "dope", "ill", "pimpin'" or "gansta" again.

Finally, he stopped, both of us breathless from laughing so hard. My face hurt from smiling. It was a good feeling.

"So what, are we just going to park the jet behind some bushes?"

"You're hilarious, did anyone ever tell you that?"

We did eventually land, but if I told you where, I'd have to kill you. No, seriously, Scott threatened to give me a zero on my math exam and tell the grasshopper joke every night at dinner until I graduate. Sorry, I'm just not willing to take that risk.

So we started walking from this location, and somehow we ended up in the front hallway of this old, dilapidated apartment building, and this is when I got the brilliant idea to find out what we were supposed to be doing there.

Scott ignored my question and told me to wait in the hall while he went to talk to a fat, balding man sitting in an office that smelled like cat pee and beer. A minute later he came out, looking a little green, and the guy (who I assumed was the superintendent) followed him. When he caught sight of me, he stared at my chest like a rabid dog.

"Just up these stairs?" Scott asked, oblivious, pointing to a narrow hallway I thought was a closet.

The super sort of grunted, and then said: "Hey buddy, why don't you let your girlfriend stay down here with me…s'not very safe round these parts."

Okay, eww. Not only did he talk like he was in a bad western, but as he looked me up and down I was pretty sure that I was being mentally undressed. Gross.

"…wouldn't want anything to happen to a pretty thing like that." He finished, and before I had the chance to inform him that yes, I was in the same room and perfectly capable of speaking for myself, Scott politely but firmly told the guy that he was pretty sure I could take of myself. I backed away from the guy, moving to follow Scott up the stairs, but the guy didn't get the hint.

"Hey, what's your problem?" He grabbed my arm and before Scott could reach for his sunglasses, the guy was out cold on the floor as the result of right hook I delivered to the side of his head.

"Nice," Scott said, obviously impressed. "Why didn't you just let him grab you? Same effect."

I rolled my eyes at him. "You think I want that in my head?" I shuddered at the thought.

His eyebrows responded for him over the top of his glasses. They said "I see your point."

It wasn't until we were halfway down a hallway identical to the one we just left (minus one unconscious guy) that I realized with a paralysing start why we were (more importantly, why I was) there.

"Oh no," I said, stopping dead in the hallway, my arms crossed over my chest. "I'm not."

Scott turned around, probably expecting to see another weirdo trying to harass me. "Rogue…" He said when he realized why I'd stopped, and I was surprised to hear a hint of begging in his voice. "Please? I wouldn't ask unless it was important."

"It's not that important. I know." I sounded petulant, and stubborn, and I didn't want to tell him exactly how I knew, but I wasn't going through with this little plan the Professor cooked up

(Right now I'm getting this image of the Professor sitting in his office, tenting his fingers and laughing maniacally as he thought up his little plan. If you knew the Professor like I do, you would find this image HILARIOUS.)

Scott crossed his arms as well, and even though I couldn't see it, I could feel his stare, so I looked at the ground, the wallpaper, anything other than his face.

"What do you know?"

Finally I looked up at him, hoping that my stance was as intimidating as his. "I know that I'm in an apartment building, in Boston, in a hallway that smells like lighter fluid and…and…" I sniff the air experimentally. "…hair gel, presumably because you—" I put extra emphasis on the pronoun, hoping that it would clearly express my disgust, without actually poking my finger into his chest like I wanted to. "-want me to convince a boy I don't even like to retire from his life as an Evil Minion of Doom and come home to a place he hates." I stopped for breath; a little disappointed that Scott hadn't tried to cut me off. "...and where everyone hates him." I added, lamely.

"Hate's a pretty strong word," he said simply. I swallowed, because of course he was right. Hate wasn't what I felt, exactly. Hate was the memories I had in my head of tattoos and ghettos and shovels applied to the back of your head. Hate wasn't inside that door, but a pretty damn strong dislike was. I said as much.

Scott kept on staring, and I was imagining us, years from now, locked in this same stance, when he leaned over and knocked on the door marked "2B".

I gasped, furious that he would break staring protocol. And then the door opened, and my protest died on my lips.

Let me get this straight. About John, I mean. I do not feel sorry for him. At all. Leaving school and his best friend to join the ranks of pure evil does NOT garner sympathy from me.

But he looked horrible. He was thin, his hair was far too long, and almost every surface of his skin was scratched or bruised in some way. His nose looked like it was broken, but it was his eyes that creeped me out the most. They talk about people's eyes looking dead, lifeless, and his were. There was no defiant spark in them, or sarcastic smirk on his face.

He stared at Scott, and Scott stared back, and I stood there and wondered why my stare contests with Scott never lasted that long. And then the strangest thing happened: The same way I had earlier in the night, John stepped forward and Scott gave him a huge bear hug. For a moment, it seemed to be the only thing holding him up.

He caught my eye over Scott's shoulder. I felt pretty stupid, standing off to the side, my mouth still sort of half open, but I closed it pretty quickly when he said, in this horribly raspy voice: "Thanks for coming…" and then collapsed.

I'll give you a few seconds to get over all of this.

Actually, it's more for me cause I'm still having a hard time believing it.

And my hand is cramping up from so much writing.

Okay, so you want to know what happened after that right? Of course you do. But I have to do this, partly for dramatic effect and partly because I've rambled on for pages and pages about myself.

So what's up with you? I know you said in your last letter that you can write Ben and Leah's names without burning hatred, but it looked like you were pressing REALLY hard on the paper, so I'm not sure if I believe you. But that's okay, because you deserve to feel angry. I would be.

And don't for one second think that I got sick because of you, or that I have things that are way more important to do. I worry about you, but your letters keep me going. I'm pretty sure if you stopped writing to me I'd fall to pieces. People would walk by this giant puddle of uncertainty on the ground and when someone asked, "What's that?" one of my friends could answer "Oh, that's just Rogue. Step this way please."

See? See what would happen? So please don't stop writing. And I would love to meet with you in person, preferably over coffee or frozen yoghurt and not yoga class. As soon as I get back we will figure something out.

You've probably guessed that I'm still not home yet anyway, as I'm going to be sending this care of the Boston University Hospital. Yep, that's where I am right now, tucked into a hospital bed. It was pretty obvious that John was sick, and when the nurse saw me, they insisted that Scott admit both of us (geez, you forget to put on eyeliner one day…).

It's kind of cool though, because the hospital specializes in mutant care, and Scott had to fill out these long, complicated forms that asked for specifics on our "powers". I got a kick out of the fact that they said "powers" instead of "mutations" or "defects." It made us seem like superheroes, or something. I think John liked it too, because his eyes lost the glazed look that had been persistent ever since we found him.

We still haven't talked though. He's lying in the bed next to me, trying to sleep, but he keeps on coughing and every time he has a fit, smoke billows out of his mouth and nose. I shouldn't, but I find it kind of funny. Actually, he sneezed about a half hour ago and they had to come in and disconnect the room's smoke detector. I don't know what's going to happen when we do have to talk, or who's going to speak first.

Wow. I just looked back over this letter and realized how long it was. And Scott just woke up in his very uncomfortable hospital armchair and told me to go to sleep, so I guess I'll mail this tomorrow.

I really hope everything is okay with you!

Love and Chocolate covered almonds,

Rogue.

Title: Feeling Sorry For Rogue
Author: Tornado Ally
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Set about 4 months after X2. Rogue's life, told through letters, emails, and notes from Secret Societies, like in Feeling Sorry for Celia
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em...
A/N: The format of this story is based on the Book Feeling Sorry for Celia, by Jaclyn Moriarty, but the idea to do a fanfic in this format is from Jaffacake1, who is a fantastic writer, and deserves all the credit for my inspiration.

Phone Memo #1

For: Rogue

From: Kitty and Jubilee/Katherine and Jubilation/
Mrs. Orlando Bloom and Madam McGreggor
(there was some confusion over the callers identity)

Time: 9:15

Message: Wanted to ensure patient was not dead and/or dying, that she was getting plenty of rest and that "Stupid expletive expletive evil minion expletive" was not "expletive trying anything and/or "being even more of an expletive than he already is." (Caller number one seemed particularly agitated with so-called expletive.) Callers wish to inform patient that: "Blankity Blank is back and that even though he has history with blankity, they are sure that she will be fine. And also that he was being made a blankity, if you can believe that!"

Phone Memo #2

For: (continued phone memo #1)

From _

Time_

Memo: Callers realized that patient would not understand such a cryptic message and promised to send patient a letter/fax that would explain more. Also, callers send regards (as phone operator assumes "Give a shout out to my bro" is meant to mean this) to a person referred to as "Psych" (?) and that "Jubes is missing her homeboy." (phone operator was unsure if this was meant as a joke or not)

Rogue,

Okay. Wake up, slowly. Now, before you panic and wonder where you are and what you are doing there, slowly think back to the events of yesterday. Slowly now, you don't want to overwhelm yourself.

That's right. Remember the jet ride and the apartment and the stare-down with Scott. Remember the smell of lighter fluid and the cab ride to the hospital.

That's right Rogue. You're in the hospital. Calm down, you are perfectly all right (at least you will be). Scott is in that corner over there, and that's John in the bed next to you. Logan is the one leaning against the doorway watching you wake up-

Wait, Logan? We must check our files. We'll get back to you.

Frantically,

The Everything Is All Right and Perfectly Normal Support Group

To: Operative:

You never saw this letter and it never saw you. You've never heard, seen, or been aware of us before (No, seriously. We can tell by the bewildered look on your face that you really haven't).

We would like to offer you a conditional membership in our Association.

Apparently, a mysterious stranger (Okay, a man whom you are clearly familiar with, but mysterious, nonetheless) has appeared in your hospital room without explanation.

There is obviously something Secret and Mysterious going on here. And athough our name may suggest otherwise, that is exactly what we are in the business of. Mysterious men who mysteriously appear are the stories that make up our (non-existent) history. They create the shadows that follow you home at night, make the noises that cause your spine to tingle when you are without companionship. They put the fog under street lamps and blow your doors closed on windless days. In other words, Rogue, Mysterious Men are where it's at!

So you cannot blame us for being intrigued. We await your response Single-Eyebrow- Raisedly,

The Secret and Mysterious Association
Of All That is Secret and Mysterious

Rouge,

That whole Logan showing up out of nowhere thing? We can explain that. It's because Cyke can't stand being around you any longer and called Logan to come look after you.

He had to bribe him to come, because he can't stand being around you either.

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Rogue,

And another thing.

We can't stand being around you either.
You are a waste of space on our mailing list.
We wish you'd never been born.

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Dear Rogue,

HA. Mystery solved.

Logan didn't come to deliver a top secret message. He didn't drop in to see if you wanted to join him on a Secret Mission.

He just flew in to see if Scott needed any help.

Conditional offer unconditionally withdrawn.

Don't expect to hear from US again.

The Secret and Mysterious Association
of All that is Secret and Mysterious

Dear Rogue,

Still.

He flew all the way to Boston.

We await further developments with interest.

Sincerely,

The Young Romance Association

Dear Rogue,

So, here's what we know.

He flew the red eye to get to Boston.

So he cares.

He hates flying with a burning passion, and isn't too much more fond of John.

So he came for you.

You and John are basically incapacitated, and Scott doesn't seem to need any help.

And Logan is probably the last person he'd ask if he did.

They keep on talking in whispers, surreptitiously glancing over at you every once in a while.

So why is he here? Figure it out.

Yours in anticipation,

Society of Amateur Detectives

ROGUE! LOOK AT THIS LETTER! SLIDING OUT OF THE FAX MACHINE, INTO THE NURSES HANDS (this letter is for Marie D'Ancanto, btw, please ensure that it reaches her safely and without interception), COMING DOWN THE HALL, AND INTO YOUR ROOM!

Hello. It is us, your best friends (KITTY AND JUBILEE, IN CASE YOU FORGOT)

We wanted to make sure that you are okay. The nurse told us a lot of times this morning that you were, but…

WE WANTED TO BE SURE

Ya.

YOU HAD US SO WORRIED. WE THOUGHT YOU…

Well, I don't know what I thought, but Jubilee…

I THOUGHT YOU WENT CRAZY ROGUE.

Well, yeah. And no one would tell us anything, other than that you were safe.

YEAH. AND WHAT DOES SAFE MEAN, ANYWAY? "SAFE" IN A MENTAL INSTITUTION? "SAFE" DEAD IN AN ALLEY?

But then I found out you were in Boston…

YA, KIT USED HER SUPER STEALTH EAVESDROPPING SKILLS TO LISTEN TO THE PROFESSOR AND ORORO.

…with John! And Scott and Logan! And they said you were sick!

DROP KICK JOHN FOR ME ROGUE, OKAY?

Anyways, we're all really worried.

ESPECIALLY BOBBY-WAIT, AM I NOT SUPPOSED TO BRING HIM U-?

We haven't told him any of this.

OUT OF LOYALTY TO YOU, YOU KNOW?

But I kinda feel like we should, just because, well…

HE'S REALLY WORRIED. OH, BUT GUESS WHO'S BACK?

Jubilee, don't tell her.

PETER! PETEY-PETE! AND GUESS WHO THE FIRST PERSON HE WANTED TO SEE WAS?

I'm going down to dinner.

I KNOW, RIGHT? LOOKS LIKE WE'RE GOING TO GET SOME GOOD DRAMA GOING ON AROUND HERE TOO.

Anyway, we love you and we hope you get better.

Kitty and Jubilee

Rogue,

Okay, I had to send you this letter separately, because Jubilee is not letting me hear the end of it. Seriously. Even when she's not around I swear she's got little minions who follow me around and whisper in my ear "Kitty and Peter, sitting in a tree…"

But really, I'm fine. I know that you probably won't believe me, but I don't want you worrying, okay? I need you to get better. And you've been taking on so much lately…I feel bad because you've been here for me and I have a feeling I haven't been there for you, or else I would have seen this coming.

I just have to say one thing though, okay? It's about Bobby. I know I'm supposed to tell you he's a bastard and screw him and all men and if he can't see how great you are he doesn't deserve you and all that. But it's not true. Because he does see how great you are. I can see it in his eyes every time he asks about you (the fact that he's been moping around the mansion ever since you broke up kinda makes it obvious too).

I guess what I really want to say is this, (and if there's one thing, in all of our years of friendship, I want you to believe, let it be this thing): He did not break up with you because he doesn't care about you. He did it because he does.

I really hope I don't have to explain that to you.

I know you, and I know that chances are you aren't going to believe me. I'm pretty sure that you've already decided that you've been dumped and why, but you're wrong. Just…please. Think about that.

I love you. I want you to get better. Please?

Love and Marshmallow Fruit Loops,

Kitty

ROGUE,

I'm worried about Kitty. She keeps on walking around and saying she's okay ("That's great," I tell her. "I didn't ask."), but she so is not.

Neither is Andrew. He keeps on looking back and forth between Pete and Kitty at dinner, certain there's a reason for the awkward silence, but too nice (or maybe too scared) to ask. He likes her so much. This could not have come at a worse time.

There's something else we didn't tell you. It's about Pete. The reason he's back, actually. Remember right after the attack on the mansion, when he found out that his sister was sick? He went back to Russia to help out his family and be there for his sister, but it turned out she was REALLY sick. Like, more sick than anyone could have thought, because she died. And apparently Pete took it really hard. They were really close, you know? And his family was having a hard enough time as it was, trying to make ends meet and stuff. They basically spent everything they had on medical expenses.

And now Pete's back. As an X-Man. Apparently Prof X offered him a place on the team, and he took it. He's sending all of his pay checks back to his family and the Professor told him that he can continue classes if he wants, or enrol in college classes. Basically, he can do whatever he wants as long as he helps fend off a bad guy every once in a while.

I feel really bad for him, I do. I mean, with his sister dying and his family in trouble, and on top of that coming back and finding everything so different…

He didn't even know about John leaving, or Jean dying. At the same time, I think that he's being really unfair to Kitty.

Yeah, they have all this history.

And yeah, he was like the love of her life, and she was his.

And I don't blame him for not putting romance at the top of his list of priorities when he left.

But he barely even wrote to her, let alone calle!. And now he wants to come back and have everything exactly the way it was? I don't think so.

So I'm worried. About both of them. But mostly about Kitty…she was so hurt when he left, remember? I just don't want her to have to go through anything like that again.

Anyways, the point of this letter is too inform you that I am doing enough worrying for the both of us, so concentrate on getting better, okay? Don't forget what I said about the drop kicking (but only if you're up to it).

Love and Strawberry Ringpops,

Jubilee

Dear Keltie,

WOW…so very, very little has happened since my last letter. I was in the hospital right? Last letter? Well, surprise, surprise, I'm still here.

And I am BORED. OUT OF MY MIND.

I feel like I've been in this hospital forever. I don't remember a time when I wasn't in this hospital.

Scott's reminding me that I've only been here a day and a half. Whatever. There's no way it's only been that long. I've been here a week, at LEAST.

I guess I can't say that nothings happened, but compared to that first night, it seems insignificant.

As it turns out, John and I are both really sick. The preliminary diagnosis is tonsillitis for me, and pneumonia for John, as well as severe dehydration and malnutrition. They're running more tests though, to rule out anything more serious. I don't know what he could have possibly been doing that didn't allow him to get water or some OJ, but I'm not about to ask.

Scott's been running around like a madman talking to the doctors, calling the school to make sure someone can take care of his classes for the next few days, and updating the Professor on our conditions, not to mention fetching an endless supply of food, books, water, etc. Basically he's responding to our (well, my) every beck and call.

Logan loves this, of course (did I mention that he showed up? I don't think I did. He walked in this morning looking exhausted and worried), and when he's not dozing in the chair next to my bed, he's chuckling at some of the outrageous things that John and I (okay, mostly I) dream up for Scott to do, and refuses even the simplest of my demands. Even when I ask him to take his feet of my bed so that the nurse doesn't yell at us again, he glares at me.

To be honest, it's nice having him here, although I'm not sure why (he's still here, I mean.) He wasn't very clear about why he showed up in the first place.

I still haven't said a word to John. Once, when Logan managed to convince the nurse that it was Scott, and not him, who got dirt all over my sheets, I caught him giving Logan an admiring smirk. Which quickly dissolved into a fit of coughing.

I think Scott and Logan can sense the tension between us, because so far they haven't left us alone in the room together, which I'm (mostly) grateful for.

I kind of wouldn't mind just letting him have it though. I'm pretty sure in the state he's in he couldn't hurt me. Actually, I'm still pretty amused every time he starts coughing sparks. He set the pillowcase on fire this morning.

It's a mark of how bored I am that I managed to write even this much based on the events of the last few weeks (okay, I guess it might be days).

If you can, please try to write to me. I'm soooo bored, and I need to know what's going on with you.

Love,

Rogue

To Keltie. (Letter # 2)

Well, that was interesting.

Logan only left the room for one minute, to go get me a Fresca…

He glared at both of us before he got up, as if he was assessing whether or not we could be trusted on our own. I guess we didn't look too threatening, both of us pretty sick (and looking it) by this point. John was lying back against his pillows with his eyes closed, his face pale and about a million blankets on top of him because he still couldn't stop shivering; my hair was stuck to my face, my eyes were watering, and there was a layer of snotty Kleenex's covering my bed.

I didn't even think John had noticed Logan leaving, but as soon as his footsteps were no longer audible, he cracked one eye open and looked at me. I pretended not to notice, being far too interested in the magazine Scott had picked up for me at the gift shop.

"Did you get my e-mail?"

Again, I was shocked at how raspy his voice sounded. I had a small inner battle with myself over whether or not to respond. Finally, I smiled sweetly at him and said "What e-mail?"

He wasn't buying it. "Why did you come?"

I laughed, closing my magazine and turning to look at him.

"Don't kid yourself," I said spitefully. I'm not exaggerating when I say that there was so much hostility in that sentence, it was like all of my resentment had poured into those three words.

He looked at me blankly. It was infuriating.

"Don't think for one second that I came here by choice…" Venom spilled out of the last word, and I practically spit out the next bit: "…or because I felt SORRY for you. I despise you John. Everything you've done…every…every person you have hurt in your twisted little hunt for acceptance …I am never going to forgive you for that, so don't even try."

My accent had almost completely dissipated by the end of my outburst, that's how angry I was. I had to stop, partly to catch my breath and partly because my throat was burning, otherwise I probably could have gone on.

There was silence for a few seconds and I started to feel victorious. I've never been able to shut John up before. He always has to have the last word.

And then he said the one thing (probably the only thing) that could make me lose it (more than I already had, I mean).

"How's Bobby?"

"Aurrgghh!" I screamed in frustration, and picked up a water glass beside my bed to hurl at him, but something stopped me. Not, like, a sudden burst of pity or self restraint, but physically grabbed both my arms and said "Okay kid, that's enough."

I glared at John as I let Logan take the glass out of my hands and put it back on the table. I continued to glare at him as Logan led me outside the hospital room, still holding both my arms as though he didn't trust me not to attack.

To be honest, I didn't trust me either.

I couldn't read the expression of John's face, but I know what mine said. All I could feel was burning hatred.

Logan sat me down in one of the chairs across the hall, and stood in front of me, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, a mirror image of my own position. I noticed that he looked a lot shorter when he stood like that. He took a deep breath, and then…

Nothing. He looked confused for a second, as though he had expected inspiration to strike and it hadn't. I chanced a glance up at him, and he sighed and sat down next to me.

"He started it," I muttered after a moment of silence. He snorted at this, but didn't say anything. He stood up when he saw Scott coming down the hall. I guess from the look on Logan's face it was obvious that something was wrong, because the first thing Scott asked was "What happened?"

Logan looked at me. "I left them for two seconds—"

"It's not my fault!" I insisted. "He provoked me!"

"John did?" Scott said slowly, looking to Logan for confirmation.

"Yeah. He…he…" Thinking about it, saying "He asked me a question!" didn't sound like the best defence at the moment. Neither did telling Scott about the e-mail I probably should have told him about a long time ago.

"I heard her yelling from down the hall."

"I wasn't yelling."

"You were yelling."

"Okay, so they were yelling at each other," Scott said tiredly. I felt really bad for him at this point. He sounded really stressed out. "What happened next?"

"I don't know about him..."(I was slightly comforted to hear the hint of a sneer in Logan's voice. "...but when I came into the room, she was hurling things at him."

"What? Rogue, is that true?"

But I'd stopped listening.

"I grabbed her by the arms and pulled her out of the room…"

Logan's voice sounded funny.

"Rogue, what's gotten into you? What could he possibly say that would make you…"

Scott kept on talking, and I could feel Logan staring at me, but all I could do was stare at my arms. My bare arms.

"Rogue. Rogue, I'm asking you…"

I looked up to meet Logan's eyes, which looked just as shocked as I'm sure mine did. He looked at his hands for a second, and Scott looked from me to him as though we had both gone insane.

And then I fainted.

(from last chapter)

But I'd stopped listening.

"I grabbed her by the arms and pulled her out of the room…"

Logan's voice sounded funny.

"Rogue, what's gotten into you? What could he possibly say that would make you…"

Scott kept on talking, and I could feel Logan staring at me, but all I could do was stare at my arms. My gloveless arms.

"Rogue. Rogue, I'm asking you…"

I looked up and met Logan's eyes, which looked just as shocked as I'm sure mine did. He looked at his hands for a second, and Scott looked from me to him as though we had both gone insane.

And then I fainted.

(all that space, by the way, is to give you time to soak up the dramatic-ness of that scene)

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was that I was back in the room, in bed, and someone's hand was on my forehead.

And it was really, really silent.

I shot up from bed, and Scott stepped back. Logan looked up from the chair next to my bed and removed his hand, which I noticed for the first time had been resting on top of mine.

I don't think I have to tell you how weird this all was.

"What's going on?" I asked, and my voice seemed to echo throughout the room. I put my hands up to my ears and realized why my voice sounded so loud.

There were no voices in my head.

(Yeah, I know. Got issues?…)

"What happened to me?" I whispered this time. "Scott? Why can Logan touch me?"

Scott looked at Logan uneasily. "We're not sure yet." He ran his hands through his hair, and I knew then that they didn't think this was a good thing.

I'm not so sure. It's been a couple of hours now and the doctors have been running some tests, and as far at they can tell, I'm stable. I was really anxious about having them touch me at first-I didn't know when it might turn on again, and I didn't want to hurt anyone. Logan volunteered as a test dummy, and even though I was reluctant to use him for that, Scott convinced me it was necessary.

I hope to God my faith in him isn't for nothing. For all I know, he could have been hoping Logan would end up on the floor.

So it looks like I can touch people, at least for the time being, but Scott seems really worried about this. He's been on the phone with Professor and Hank all morning, asking for their opinion, but he won't tell me what they're saying. I'm trying not to worry.

I mean, how long have I wanted this? I actually can't remember what it's like to not have voices in my head, or how it feels to touch someone without worrying that I might kill them.

But you know all of this. There's no point saying it over again, especially when it's the only thing I've been thinking about since all of this happened.

Actually that's not true. My friends, Jubilee and Kitty, sent me a fax this morning that has me more than a little worried.

It sounds like Peter (that guy I told you about, Kitty's ex-boyfriend) is back at the mansion, and the drama is beginning again (well, according to Jubilee anyway). I guess Peter's sister was sicker than everyone thought, because she passed away a month ago, and he's come back to the mansion because he has no where else to go.

That's not the only thing either. He's joining the team, which is just…I don't know. I guess it's just so weird to think that one of us (by that I mean the students that I've been friends with since I got here) is now…an X-Man. It's hard to explain. I guess it would be like Ben or Leah suddenly becoming one of your teachers or guidance counsellors or something. Maybe it's not even that. We all knew it would only be a matter of time before Bobby officially joined the team, but I think after Peter left Kitty like that, we were all mad at him on her behalf for awhile. It's going to take some time for us all to get over that I guess.

So anyways, Peter's back, and apparently he thought that he and Kitty could just pick up where they left off, and was a little confused when she wasn't so thrilled with the idea. I also don't know if he understands who the tall, spiky haired kid standing next to Kitty glaring at him is.

Okay, this letter is ridiculous. I can't believe I'm sending you two of these. I wouldn't even bother sending them to anyone else, but I think you'll understand that not only are these events Monumental and Exciting, but that I'm also Bored Out Of My Mind (even with all of this drama).

Love and Chocolate Chip Pancakes,

Rogue

Kitty and Jubilee,

Thanks for your letter. I cannot tell you how unbelievably bored I am here, although I am going to have a lot to tell you when I get back.

I feel fine, really, and I'm sorry, Jubilee, I'm not drop kicking John for you. I already got in enough trouble for trying to throw a glass at him (long story).

Kit, I'm sorry, I know this must be really hard on you. Jubes, make her cookies or something, please? Those choco-nut-peanut-butter-marshmallow ones you made for Steph when she found out Taylor and Taylor broke up?

About Bobby…

OH, LOOK, I'VE RUN OUT OF ROOM!

Love you guys!

-Rogue

Rogue,

Please find yourself a paper bag. Or at least a hairbrush, for goodness sakes.

Your hair is stuck to your face, your eyes are bloodshot, and your cuticles are an absolute disgrace. We cannot believe you are letting people see you like this!

No wonder Bobby broke up with you. You might have had a chance Rogue. A few facials, a good haircut and a weekly mani-pedi, and there could have been hope for you.

But, well… We suppose you've always got those paper bags.

Disappointedly,

The Society of Beautiful People (SOB.P)

Rogue,

Remember the first time Bobby introduced you to John? Remember how he referred to him as "His Best Friend"?

Remember the time you feel asleep when helping John with his Physics homework? Remember how he carried you to the couch and covered you with a blanket? And then when you woke up he was sleeping on the couch next to you, despite the fact that he has a perfectly good bed of his own, and even though he knew that a slip of your hand could have killed him?

Remember the time you waited in line all night to get Bobby those Red Hot Chilli Pepper tickets? Remember how John was the only one willing to wait with you?

Remember when you lost your Eminem CD? Remember how John helped you look all over the mansion before giving you his own signed copy?

And remember the time John's cousin Sara flew in from Australia to visit him? Remember how he introduced you to her as "His Best Friend?"

Nostalgically yours,

The Memory Trigger Society

Rogue,

Yeah, right. Like you're actually going to NOT tell us what's been happening?

Throwing a glass at John? That's impressive.

If you don't tell us about it, you wont hear from us again. We don't care how bored you are.

We love you, Rogue, really, but if you don't pull out a pen and start writing us a new, GOOD letter right this instant, we will have no choice but destroy your favourite pair of jeans.

Yes, THOSE jeans. The gorgeous Seven jeans that have their own designated spot in your closet and that we all hate you for looking so great in.

So get writing.

We mean it.

-Kitty and Jubilee

Kitty and Jubilee,

Aww, thank you guys so much for caring! As soon as I got your letter, I picked up my pen because I knew I just had to tell you everything. I'll start with the most important and exciting thing:

IF YOU SO MUCH AS TOUCH MY JEANS, I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN, RIP OUT YOUR INSIDES AND EAT THEM FOR BREAKFAST. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THOSE COST? DON'T THINK I WON'T. THIS IS ME, TALKING, NOT LOGAN. Understand?

Okay now that that's over with…

The glass throwing thing was no big deal, honestly. But I will tell you guys what happened, because I love you and I know you'd never really hurt my jeans (RIGHT?).

Basically, John and I got into a fight. It actually took longer than I thought, considering we've been cooped up in this hospital for weeks (even though Scott's still insisting it's only been a couple of days). Anyway, he was being his usual, douche-baggy self, I went to throw something at him, because I was really mad, and Logan grabbed my arm to stop me.

Geniuses that we are, it took us a few minutes to notice I wasn't wearing gloves.

Oh, and he wasn't dead.

ANYWAYS, I kinda passed out, and when I woke up, Scott was feeling my forehead, and Logan had his hand on mine (Don't even say it!), and neither of them were wearing gloves.

So of course I was freaking out a bit because of top of that, I couldn't hear anyone in my head. Like for once there was no John, Magneto, Logan, Bobby, or David in my head. I asked Scott what was wrong with me and he said he didn't know.

And then Hank came. (I'm actually kind of wondering if there are any teachers left at the school) He told me that they weren't sure yet, but it looked like I'd contracted a really serious virus that only affects mutants. Somehow it latches onto the X-gene or X-factor or whatever and starts to replicate stuff…RNA or DNA, I think. This was the part I wasn't too clear on. I saw Logan's eyes glaze over and I started to wish I had taken Biology. (Correction: I started to wish I had paid attention in Biology) Anyway, it messes with your powers (in my case, makes them dormant) before they start to become out of control.

'Out of control?' You're asking yourselves now (I know because it's what I said). 'Out of control how?'

The short answer is I don't know. From what I can tell, there's actually very little known about this virus (I'm not even sure if it has a name).

"From what we can tell," Hank said patiently, "Both of you are in the early stages of the virus, which is characterized by flu or cold-like symptoms."

I know, you're trying to take it all in right? 'Okay,' You're thinking, 'how long until you get better?' Right?

Scott and Hank didn't answer me when I asked. I looked from one to the other for an answer, and then, for some reason, at John. He had been looking at me, but when I met his gaze, he turned and looked out the window. It was Logan that said "We don't know."

I didn't say anything after that. I think they all realized how tired I was, because Scott suggested that I get some rest and Logan asked me if I wanted anything from the vending machines. I asked him if he could get me a hot chocolate, and the three of them left, Hank saying he had some paperwork to take care of. Logan paused in the doorway before he left, an expression on his face that I couldn't read. Then he closed the door and I was left in the semi-darkness to think this over.

I lay there for awhile before I heard sheets rustling and remembered I wasn't alone. I turned on my side to look at John. He was on his side too, and I could see a bit of the light from the hallway reflecting in his eyes as he looked at me.

"Hank said both of us," I said softly. "You have it too?"

He nodded, erupting into a bout of coughing. When it calmed down, I asked him "How long have you known?"

He didn't answer right away. "Awhile."

But I persisted. "Before Alkali Lake?" But he didn't answer, so I lay back, staring at his profile, wondering if Bobby knew John was sick.

My eyes started to drop, and I was almost asleep, when:

"I'm sorry."

I opened one eye to look at him, but his were closed.

I must have been asleep when Logan came back with my hot chocolate, but I felt someone push the hair off my face, and when I half woke up in the middle of the night, I saw him asleep in the chair next to me, feet up on the bed again. One arm was sprawled across his chest, his hand bunched in a fist, and the other hand was on top of mine.

I don't know why I told you guys that. I just know you're going to have a field day with it.

I think he just knew it was what I needed at that moment.

So that's what's been happening. Hank said that he's getting a geneticist to come in and explain to us the virus a little bit better tomorrow, so hopefully I'll understand it better then.

Thanks for making me tell you guys that, I feel a lot better. Especially knowing my jeans are now safe.

Love,

Rogue

TOP EIGHT RULES OF CONDUCT WHEN IN THE PRESENCE OF A WORLD FAMOUS GENETICIST (who by the way travelled a ridiculous number of hours to be here today)

By Hank McCoy, as Dictated to Rogue D'Ancanto and John Allardyce

Rule #8. When Scott comes in to tell you that you have a visitor, it might be a good idea to be fully conscious before responding.

Rule #7. If, however, you choose to respond while in this semi-conscious state, saying "Yes, Scott, we would be delighted to welcome Ms. Moira McTaggart into our hospital room," would be deemed by all present to be an appropriate response.

Rule #6. NOT "Oh no, Orlando, I'm FAR too tired from last night."

Rule #5. And when actually being introduced to said world-famous geneticist, a simple "How do you do?" will suffice.

Rule #4. To reiterate, I have verified that "What up, G?" is not considered by etiquette authorities to be a universally understood greeting.

Rule #3. When having the details of a very serious illness explained to you (which, may I remind you, you both have), it is recommended that you sit quietly and listen (maybe throwing in a nod of understanding every now and then) to the details being provided to you. This is the sign of a mature individual taking in the importance of a situation.

Rule #2.. Bursting into giggles at the word "diploid" is not.

And the number one, most important rule of conduct when speaking to a world famous geneticist?

#1. Do not tell her that you think your Professor "has the hots" for her.

Response to TOP EIGHT … (blah blah)… FAMOUS GENETICIST

By J-Dawg and Ro.D (as dictated to Dr. Hank McCoy)

6. Despite what you may think, we made a wonderful impression on Dr. McTaggart.

We hung on to every fascinating word she said

Logan was the one falling asleep

5. We were polite and gracious

She thought we were "ahbsolutlay chahming"

She's Scottish, J-Dawg, not English.

4. And if some of us were a little tired when we were being introduced, surely she understood.

Have you even seen Pirates of the Caribbean?

3. If we can get Kitty (from now on referred to as "K-Pry") to start saying "sick" on a regular basis, then we can get you used to the idea that "What up, G?" is not only a polite greeting, but a compliment.

It means she's cool, Hank. She "gets" us.

2. We were simply trying to demonstrate that we will not let this serious illness get us down. We will rise above it, with humour…and grace…

Say it out loud. Please? Just once. Dip-loid. Diploid. D-I-P-L-O-I-D.

…and funny words?

It sounds like a robot!

And the number one response to Hank's Top Eight Rules…(blah blah)?

1. What, do you have a crush on her or something?

Dear Rogue,

The Association of Teenagers

Dear Rogue,

Well, for once, we were wrong. Now that you have this really serious disease, you may have been kicked up a notch in our books.

But it's still really gross.

And so is your hair.

You're definitely going to get a lot worse. Then you'll probably die. No one will miss you.

With sincere glee,

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Rogue,

Are you SERIOUS?

Okay. Okay, let me get this straight. Bobby broke up with you. Bobby broke up with you, and to get over him, you went on a secret mission to save one of your former boyfriends former friends and both of you are sick? And all of a sudden you can touch people? And wait, LOGAN is there? He came all the way to Boston?

I'm sorry I haven't written you anything. I know when I had my tonislls taken out, the days stretched on and on and on and on and on and...

You get the point. It's taken me a while to get through your letters, and I've been worried about taking them to school with me so I have to wait until after to read them, just in case I accidently dropped them, and that Magneto guy found them, or something, and I got arrested for like, treason or something.

(Okay, I'm pretty sure that wouldn't happen, but I'm still not quite up on my mutant affairs, and I don't really now how all of this works. Is there, like, a union, or something?)

(I think it's really just an attempt to insert some excitement into my otherwise dull, depressing life)

Okay, do I sound too self-deprecating now? Not my intent. I wanted to send you a letter full of sarcasm and with that would distract you from the monotony of hospital life. Although, honestly, Rogue? I'm having a really hard time feeling sorry for you. Logan flying all the way to Boston to see if you're all right? John trying to apologize? Your mutant power (as if you don't think of it as a superpower!) suddenly going away? Waking up to find Logan holding your hand?

Wait, that should be WAKING UP TO FIND LOGAN HOLDING YOUR HAND?

Because that is definitely the part that I find most interesting. I don't care if he is a million years older than you. He sounds HAWT.

By the time you get this, you'll probably be married to Taylor Lautner and jet-setting across Europe to have tea with the Queen and Johnny Depp. Which will be a cover for the top-secret mission the CIA is sending you on to find out the real meaning of Christmas, or something. Has anything else happened? At this point, I don't even know what you could tell me.

You told me to get junk food and action movies to get over Ben. No offense Rogue, but that's pretty lame compared to what you're doing.

I can't believe that you are having this amazing adventure, and I'm stuck here in stupid Westchester. I mean, I know you're sick and all, but seriously. Really absolutely nothing has happened since my last letter.

I need more information, so I can accurately give my opinion on all of these goings on in your life.

First of all, Bobby. What exactly did he say? You weren't specific enough about that. Was it a "it's not you, it's me" break-up? Or a "Lets just be friends."? "I need some space."? "I'm dating a Victoria's Secret Model."? "I think I might be gay."? Or just "I'm a big stupid jerkface and you're not giving it up so I'm moving on to sluttier pastures."?

I was thinking about this one line that a guy used on Leah once, about how he thought he might be a mutant, and he didn't want to run the risk of hurting her. A week later he was making out with Mindy McKamron behind the climbing wall. Leah said later that she was definitely justified in telling him it wasn't her that should be worried about getting hurt. He still limps a little on cold days.

That was a stupid story. I was going to try and make a joke about how there's no way anyone could get away with that at your school, huh? But it's a bad joke. I'm sorry; I've been really bad at the humour thing lately. Not to sound all emo, it's just been hard to find things to laugh about lately.

I've turned into what can only be called a social pariah…which is just…

I don't even know how to explain it. I don't know how it happened. But Ben and Leah are the talk of the town (well, the third floor locker bay, anyway), and I've been kind of pushed to the wayside.

I'm not entirely blameless, I can admit that. Ben and Leah still invite me out with them, but it's not the same, and it's pretty obvious that we're not going to be the same kinds of friends we used to be. But it's the rest of the school that's really bothering me…

This is going to sound really shallow, but I'm just going to say it. I'm a fairly popular girl. I hate that word, popular, but it's the truth. And I've worked really hard to get it that way. I try to be friendly to everyone, and I smile a lot and I make an effort to talk to people and take an interest in them. I am interested in them. A lot of people like me, from all different groups. But lately it seems like all anyone else is interested in is Ben and Leah. And I'm sort of realizing that I didn't have any other REAL friends, other than them, you know? I've kind of retreated a bit, I guess. I'm spending a lot more time at home with Emma and my Dad, and I've been studying a lot more (I did quite well on my exams, actually).

But none of that matters, because you are in the hospital! You are clearly a much better friend than I am, because even while you're on this death defying mission, overcoming your mutant power, and having a standoff with an evil minion of doom (who may or may not still want to be your friend), you still have time to be concerned about your friend Kitty and her ex-boyfriend! And to me, even though I've been awful and haven't written you any letters since you got to Boston (although, to be fair, it has only been a couple of days-but I know how slowly time passes when you're confined to a hospital bed).

Do they know what you have yet? I hope it isn't anything too serious. What is going on with John? And Logan? And Bobby? I need updates, soon! Save me from my boredom!

Love and Tylenol 3's,

Keltie

Dear Rogue,

Is it possible that you tried a little too hard? Because now you're going to be stuck with no mutation, no friends, no boyfriend, and no sense of colour co-ordination (pink AND red, Rogue? Really?).

The Society Of Mutants that Can't Control Their Mutations, but Would If They Just Tried

in conjuction with

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Inter-Hospital Memo

To: Doctor Harris

From: Henry McCoy

Subject: Patients D'Ancanto and Allerdyce

Dr. Harris, I'm requesting permission to let Marie and John leave the hospital grounds for the afternoon. While the patients are not recovered and treatment has yet to start, their conditions remain stable for the time being. Both patients have been growing restless and have become, if I may say so, a pain in my behind. Mr. Summers has agreed to accompany them and will be able to contact the hospital if any problems arise.

To: Dr. Henry McCoy

From: The Office of Dr. Alberta Harris

Subject (No Subject)

Permission granted.

J-Dawg! Look at this note! Stuck right under your nose! (Nose hair, much?)

We're free! We're going out for the day, Hank just told me! Wake your ass up so we can get out of here!

Ro.D

P.S. Don't think this means that you're forgiven. Evil minions of doom don't get off that easily.

Dear Keltie,

I'm so so so glad that you wrote me back. I was getting kind of worried.

I don't like what I'm hearing about you not going out and not getting out of bed. But before I get into that, I need to tell you about my day.

John and I have been getting pretty restless, and it has manifested itself in not so productive and frightening ways (i.e. We communicate with each other and even-I can't bear to say it-make jokes, sometimes). We've been getting on Dr. McCoy's nerves a little-okay, a lot-and today he got frustrated and told Scott to get us out of his sight. He and Dr. McTaggart (she's a geneticist from Scotland-she's got the coolest accent) needed to analyze our blood tests and other boring stuff like that, and since he said our conditions weren't likely to change anytime soon, we got a field trip! We were quite excited, as you can imagine, waiting for Scott to come and get us. He laughed when he saw us, sitting on John's bed, our hair combed and our hands folded in our laps. 'Like five-year-olds afraid they'd get playtime taken away from them', he said. Logan told us he was going to sight-see on his own, but that he might meet up with us later. I think he was going to flirt with a nurse from ontology, but you didn't hear it from me.

Scott rented a car and took us downtown. Let me tell you, Boston is not a fun city to drive in. It's all one-way streets, and even Scott had difficulty navigating them. We walked a little bit along the Freedom Trail, but both John and I got tired really quickly, so we turned around and had a nice tour of the Boston Common benches. Scott wanted to see Fenway park, and I took a picture with his Blackberry to send Kitty. She's more of a Cubs fan, but I think she'll still appreciate it.

Then Scott took us to Quincy Market, which has tons of cool shops and stuff. By this point, John and I were exhausted, and collapsed in the food court. Scott bought us some pizza and sodas and suggested going back to the hospital, but we both straightened up and swore we were fine. He narrowed his eyes at us (I'm exaggerating, not actually being able to see Scott's eyes and all) but let us eat without further mention of the hospital. That was when Logan showed up.

I don't know what he'd been doing, but he seemed agitated (maybe the nurse wasn't interested?). He sat down next to us and refused to answer my questions. "You okay?" he asked gruffly, trying to change the subject.

"Fine and dandy," I told him.

Logan accompanied me into some shops in the market. He waited patiently when I insisted on going into one of the girlier shops and only slightly growled at the saleslady who suggested that maybe my 'father' would like to wait outside, after he almost knocked over a display of teacups.

"She didn't really think I was your father?" he asked when we were on our way back to meet John and Scott. I'd purchased a few souvenirs for Kitty and Jubilee. (You'll notice that your souvenir is included with this letter).

"Of course not," I shook my head, because I was pretty sure she'd thought he was my boyfriend, and clearly didn't approve. I didn't mind so much.

We walked a little bit more, when we suddenly came across the most unusual monument I'd ever seen. "What is this?" I asked Scott. "This isn't in the guidebook."

In front of us were six towers, like large glass elevator shafts, about 6 stories high in a grassy area along the road. As we walked closer, I could see that there were millions of tiny numbers etched onto the glass. I could feel my mouth drop open involuntarily as I gazed up.

"It's a Holocaust memorial," said John, from behind me. He was looking at the plaque beside the first tower. It was a timeline of events, leading up to and during, the Holocaust.

We walked through the first tower. Below our feet was a grate, and smoke was billowing up through the grate from embers below. The effect was...I can't even describe it. I could feel John inhale shaply next to me, and I looked up and saw the thousands and thousands of numbers, each one representing a person who lived and died in a concentration camp. Auschwitz-Birkenau, this tower told me. I walked through each of the towers, pausing in each one to look up. When I came through the last one, Scott and Logan were reading a granite plaque, which read:

They came first for the Communists,

and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Communist.

Then they came for the Jews,

and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew.

Then they came for the trade unionists,

and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Catholics,

and I didn't speak up because I was a Protestant.

Then they came for me,

and by that time no one was left to speak up.

-Martin Niemoeller

Underneath, someone left a plain white card, taped to the ground. "Then they came for the mutants."

John was still standing under the 6th tower. I watched him reach his arm around the glass. In the low light, the numbers were reflected onto his arm. He looked at me, and I knew we were thinking the same thing.

I never thought I would say this, but for the first time today, I think that I understood, in some way, what Magneto and the Brotherhood were trying to do. I mean, let's be clear-kidnapping me and being general malefactors is not cool. They were going about it all the wrong way, that's for sure. But I looked at all those numbers, and I didn't understand how anyone could let such cruelty happen. "It was a long time ago, Rogue," Scott reminded me later. But it's not, not really. Look at the genocide in Rwanda-that was only 15 years ago. We had television and internet on our side then, and it didn't help. Or Darfur-what are people doing to stop that? Some of the things I see on the news that people do to mutants is just as bad. What Stryker was trying to do to do last spring with Cerebro was essentially the same thing. It makes me feel so hopeless inside.

"Rogue," Scott said, after a few moments. We had continued to stare at the monuments. "We should go." They walked away, and John and I trailed behind, slowly. I tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn't meet my gaze.

We had dinner at an Irish pub the guidebook recomended, and both of us were pretty quiet. I couldn't stop thinking about the monument, and neither could John, I could tell. I must have fallen asleep after desert (like a toddler, I am) because when I woke up, Logan was carrying me out to the car. I rested my head against his shoulders and wished I could feel like I did when I was 16, when Logan saying he would take care of me was enough to make the world feel managable again.

I know better now. I know that if I want the world to be safe, I need to do it myself. Which doesn't mean I have to do it alone-I have the perfect system in place: The X-Men. I realize now why it was so weird hearing that Peter had joined the team: Because it made me realize that it was something I could never do. I mean, I help out every now and again, but it's really a case of being in the wrong place at the right time. My mutation is largely useless in the grand scheme of things. But I need to stop looking at it as a curse and start figuring out how to use it to my advantage. I want to be an X-Man, and I want to have control of my mutation. I want to find away to make this feeling of darkness go away, and make sure that history doesn't repeat itself.

I need to get better, first. Which means that tomorrow I'm going to do everything that Hank and Ms. McTaggert tell me to do, and I'm going to get John to do it with me. I might still hate him, but if I can help him, then I'll know I can make a difference.

I hope you enjoy your present, and I'll keep you updated.

Love and Boston Tea Cups,

Rogue

Dear Rogue,

So you think you can save the world? Going to be a superhero, now?

We can practically hear the swell of music and see the flag waving behind you.

Yeah, right. Give us a break. Get out of here. Take a hike. [Insert popular colloquialism here]

You think that just because you've had this burst of motivation, you'll be able to get better, control your mutation, and win the hearts of millions of Americans? Good luck with that, sweetheart. We'll be watching from the sidelines.

And we've got popcorn.

Sincerely,

Mothers Against Insincere Epiphanies and Meaningless Revelations (MAIEMR)

With

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

It's proving a little more difficult to be a superhero than you thought, isn't it? Having needles stuck in you all day, being poked and prodded and twisted until your body is numb from it all? "Where's the key to the city?" you ask. "Where's the wise-cracking sidekick?" And "When oh when can I get out of this bed?"

Do you think Batman whined when he had to save Gotham? Do you think Spiderman pouted when he got bitten by that radioactive spider? Do you think Wonder Woman spent forty-five minutes blowing the white stands in her hair off her face over and over and over again? We think not.

That's why you're not cut out for this, Rogue. You may as well give up now, before you seriously annoy someone. Like you're annoying us right now.

Sincerely,

The Association of People Who Can't Be Superheroes (But Could If They Just Tried)

Dear Kitty and Jubilee,

You guys haven't written back in while. What's going on?

I've just spent the whole day being examined by doctors and specialists and geneticists from all over the world. I feel like I have no blood left in my body. Although I guess I should be grateful that these doctors can actually touch me. Remember that time I cut my hand open in the danger room, and Hank had such a hard time stitching it up without losing his life force? Yeah.

I had to run on a treadmill today. You know how much I hate treadmills. I'm always imagining myself as a cartoon character, and fear that I'll get either hurled across the room, or sucked into the track. I'd spend eternity going round and round and round...

Write me back. I'm bored.

Rogue

Dear Rogue,

We don't even know what to say about this new information.

Only nerds want to be superheroes. That's what superheroes are for, after all. To make nerdy little kids feel like they too can contribute to the world.

Well, guess what, Rogue? They can't.

Real teenagers don't need to fantasize about being superheroes because their lives are interesting enough. Clearly, yours is not.

What are you doing, anyway? You sit in bed all day and occasionally hang out with stuffy doctors. You're really living it up, Rogue. Have a hissy fit or something. Then at least we'd be entertained.

Monotonously yours,

The Association of Teenagers

SCOTT! LOOK AT THIS NOTE! BEING HANDED TO YOU BY THE NURSE!

Scott,

I'm bored. Shocker, I know. Would I possibly be allowed to visit a library? Don't want to fall behind on my schoolwork, you know.

Rogue

ROGUE! LOOK AT THIS NOTE! BEING HANDED TO YOU BY ME!

I think leaving the hospital again is pushing it. We'll get you hooked up with an online library catalogue and I'll send someone to go pick up books for you. I know you're not really worried about your schoolwork, seeing how the term has just begun and you don't even know which classes you're taking...what are you really interested in?

-Scott

P.S. I know you're excited by those coloured pens Logan bought you at the Market, but there's something called the Joy of the Spoken Word, you know?

SCOTT! THESE PENS ARE WAY COOLER THAN ANYTHING THAT COULD COME OUT OF MY MOUTH!

Heh, heh. That's what she said.

Sorry.

Besides, I don't think Ororo would appreciate your disparaging remarks about her creative and effective teaching methods.

Ok, you caught me. I want books on mutants, mutations, anything you can find. Knowledge is power, right?

How is your hotel? Are you and Logan sleeping all right? I feel so bad that you guys are stuck here with me. Why don't you hit up a bar, or a strip club, or a bingo hall or something?

-Rogue

Rogue,

We're sleeping just fine. Stop worrying. However, I did want to let you know I'm going back home tomorrow. Classes need to continue and you two don't need the four of us hovering around you constantly. Hank is going to continue working with the doctors here. I'll make sure you get those books, though. And maybe-just MAYBE-we can arrange for you to go swimming. I know you miss it.

-Scott

SCOTT! THANK YOU!

Oh, that is so exciting! But I am going to need a new bathing suit. So maybe you should arrange a trip to the mall, as well?

When can we go home?

-Rogue

Rogue,

Don't push it.

-Scott

SCOTT! LOOK AT THIS NOTE! BOUNCING OFF YOUR HEAD!

Scott, we know you can see this. You didn't answer Ro.D's question. When can we go home? What did the Professor say? Why can't Hank treat us at the mansion?

-Ro.D and J-Dawg

Hear that, Rogue?

Scott and Logan are leaving. Clearly they are tired of your face, not to mention your endless whining, childish antics and vacant expressions.

Logan can't wait to get away from you. He wants to get back to Important Missions and real women who don't constantly trip over their words and get flustered when they accidently walk in on him with his shirt off (real smooth, by the way). He's already given you up for dead.

Scott's just glad to have something to do other than pretending to be concerned about your well being.

How long before Hank and Moira give up as well?

Yours truly,

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Rogue,

We are very disappointed by the lack of activity on your end. Breaking up with your boyfriend, while devastating, at least had the potential for some remorseful and anguished pleas for forgiveness. As of the time of writing, Mr. Drake is still nowhere to be seen.

And then, disappearing into the night: It seemed like the perfect setting for some unexpected but passionate romance. Still, nothing.

Mr. Allardyce has thus far been placed firmly in our platonic relationships file, although we strongly believe that this has more to do with your obvious deficiency in the flirting department rather than lack of interest (don't even pretend you don't know what's under that standard-issue hospital gown!).

And your mysterious man has become decidedly un-mysterious and not the least bit interested in you.

All this, despite the fact that you suddenly have regained the ability to touch, and therefore, are no longer hindered in your ability to "get your rocks off", as your friend "Jubes" would say.

It's not us, Rogue. It's you. We can't be doing all the work here. Please step it up a notch.

The Young Romance Association

Boston Center City Library
117 Washington Road
Boston, Massachusetts
45901

Items Checked Out: 5

Item:

Human Right vs. Mutant Rights?: The Case Against Experimentation on Mutants
Guthrie, M
Due: 02/14/11

Destination Unknown: The Future of Evolutionary Research
MacTaggert, M
Due: 02/14/11

Mutant Manifestation and Powers
Day, S
Due: 02/14/11

Mutants: A History
Kennedy, M.
Due: 02/14/11

He's Just Not That Into Your Ability to Breathe Fire: Navigating the Evolutionary Minefield that is Dating in the 21st Century
Behrenat, G.
Due: 02/14/11

Rogue,

Falling, falling, falling...

This time no one is there to catch you. No one even notices you're gone.

Falling, falling, falling...

Those trees are getting awfully close.

Falling, falling, falling...

SPLAT.

Nasty, Nerve-racking Nightmares, Associated.

LOGAN! LOOK AT THIS NOTE! BEING HANDED TO YOU BY SCOTT!

Hi.

Did you get the note?

I just wanted to say, before you leave, how much I appreciate you coming all the way out here to see me help me vacation? help Scott.

And...that's pretty much all I have to say.

-Rogue

Rogue,

I'm not going anywhere.

-Logan

Rogue,

Ohh, did your legs just turn to jelly? Did your stomach leap into your throat? Did your heart start hurling against your chest in a desperate escape attempt? Is your mind running a million miles a minute?

Maybe it's time to see a doctor.

The Young Romance Association

Rouge,

What did that note mean? Was it an aggressive assertion of desire, spoken in a low voice, later to be followed by a passionate embrace?

Or was it merely a statement of fact, scribbled hastily before he left to tend to his other (more important) business in Boston?

We're dying to find out!

The Association of the Indecisive

A SELF ABSORBED LETTER TO A VERY GOOD FRIEND WHO DOES NOT DESERVE SUCH AN INCONSIDERATE PEN-PAL

Keltie,

I'm having a weird night.

John and I were lying in bed, trying to fall asleep. The light was off, but I could see his outline on the other side of the room, and he was tossing and turning as much as I was. After a while, he turned to face me. "Rogue."

"Mmm?" I mumbled, hoping he'd get the idea and leave me alone.

"You have absolutely no control of your power, right?"

"Uh, right." I rolled my eyes. He didn't say anything else, and finally I gave in. "Why?"

"Have you ever thought that maybe you can't control your powers...because you don't practice them enough?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you?"

"Practice? Oh, yeah, John, the Professor's going to let me suck out the life force of his students, just so I can have sex."

"Who said anything about sex?"

Thank God it was too dark for him to see me blushing. "You know what I mean. He wouldn't allow it."

"Why now?"

"Why not?" I sat up. "Because it's unethical."

"Maybe." He said. "Or maybe he doesn't want you to control it."

"You're crazy. What are you talking about?"

"Maybe he's stopping you. Ever wonder why Kitty can turn hers on and off, and you can't? Or why Colossus doesn't always look like The Terminator, sans Arnold Schwarzenegger?"

"Of course I've wondered! But some mutants maintain their default state all the time, like Mystique and me, and some, like Kitty and Peter and you, I guess, don't."

"That's bullshit," he said. "All mutants have their powers as default. That why the Professor teaches us to control them. That's why, despite my insistence that she does it on purpose, Kitty occasionally falls into the boys dormitory when she's having nightmares. You should be able to control your power, Rogue, at least to some extent. So either you don't, or something-someone-is stopping you."

"The Professor wouldn't do that."

"Really? Like he doesn't control Jean's power? Sorry, didn't."

"What are you even talking about? He didn't control Jean's power."

He didn't say anything. "John? You're just talking out of your ass again, aren't you?" My voice stayed steady, but I realized all of a sudden I wasn't so sure. I remembered Jean's frustration with her training, on days when she could barely levitate anything heavier than a book. And yet somehow, she was still able to hold back that dam at Alkali Lake. Of course, doubt didn't stop me from saying: "You don't know everything, John. Just because you left us to become an evil minion doesn't mean you know more than I do, and it doesn't mean everyone is as corrupt as you and your friends."

"You know, I'm getting really tired of this "evil minion" business. Not everyone's moral compass is as straight as yours, Marie, and you make it sound like Magneto is a pesky villain from a comic book. I've seen things that would make you sick to your stomach."

"You ARE the things that make me sick to my stomach," I snarled, and turned to face the wall.

The sheets rustled and a moment later I felt my mattress shift under his weight. I turned to tell him to get the hell off of my bed when he did it again.

"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes boring into mine. I could see them shining in the light from the window. I held his stare for what felt like an eternity. "...for calling you Marie."

"Ugh!" I sat up and smacked him on the side of the head. But I couldn't help but smile. There was a point, sad to say, when I would have been most upset about that.

"But I was serious. You should practice."

I stopped smiling. "John, I'm not going to just use my powers against innocent people."

"Who says they have to be innocent?"

I didn't have the energy to come up with a clever response. "What are you saying?"

"Practice on me."

"What?"

"I said, you can practice on me."

I opened my mouth to say that he was being ridiculous, when he leaned over and kissed me. I was so taken aback it took me a few seconds to even process what was happening, let alone stop it. I thought about the fact that I've only ever been kissed twice-once leaving the guy in a coma and the other two times with Bobby. I realized that it was really quite nice, kissing someone, even if that someone was John. I wondered if he realized I didn't really know what I was doing.

And then I realized what I was doing, and I pulled back abruptly, gasping. Before I could say anything, he'd bounced back over to his bed as though he was anticipating an attack. He perched there, smirking at me.

"What was that?" I attempted to keep my voice calm, not wanting to give away the fact that I was thoroughly shaken.

"Practice."

"I don't even have my powers," I said, as if THAT was the point. He just shrugged. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"Just dandy." He was mocking me now, but it was suddenly really important for me to find out if he was actually okay.

"No, I mean, do you feel anything-?" I I stopped myself, not wanting to give him any ammunition. 'How's your life force?' didn't seem to make much sense, either. I stared at his face, his skin, to see if there was any difference. Nothing. On the contrary, he looked healthier than he had a few minutes ago. I decided to give up. "Okay," I said.

"Okay?" he repeated.

I switched on the bedside lamp and turned back to the book I'd been reading. He stared at me. "Okay?" he said again. I glanced up at him. "Okay? You mean you don't want to have an hour-long discussion about this? You don't want to hit me?"

I shook my head. "Not really."

The look on his face was hilarious. "It was nice," I said kindly, giving him a small smile.

He took the bait. "Nice?"

"Mm-hmm." I turned a page. "You should get some sleep. You look a bit tired out."

He gaped at me for a bit, and then, with some delay, climbed under his sheets and lay there, staring at the ceiling (I think) trying to figure out what just happened.

That's right. The student had become the master. The player got played. The...okay, I'll stop.

It was all I could do not to burst into laughter.

I waited till I was sure he was asleep, and then I borrowed some paper and a pen from the nurses station and right now I'm sitting in the waiting room writing this letter to you. Because how could I not?

I'm really quite pleased with myself. I've always been John's favourite victim because I'm so gullible and easily flustered. I'm proud of myself for keeping my cool this time, and not falling for his mind games. I just know he was expecting me to freak out, to hit him and ask a million questions and then refuse to speak to him. Clearly, that was my first reaction. But I caught on to his little game, and the look on his face was so worth it.

And besides...it was quite nice. Not that I have much to compare it to. Which is NOT to say I have feelings for John AT ALL. Just, you know. It wasn't awful.

I keep going back to what he said, though. About the Professor. Is there another reason I couldn't control my powers? It certainly can't be because I don't want it badly enough. But what possible motivation could the Professor have for keeping my powers out of my control?

It's ridiculous, of course. Not only would he never do that, there was simply no reason to. I would be much more valuable to the X-Men if I had the ability to turn my powers on and off.

I'm slightly ashamed with myself for even thinking it.

Anyway, I should probably be off to bed, but I wanted to say that I miss you loads and I really hope things are getting better at school. I think you should just try and go on as normally as possible. It sucks because you don't have your best friends anymore, or at least, not in the same way you used to, but maybe you can look at it as a fresh start, and a chance to meet some new people?

What do I know though? I'm practically delirious with boredom. The idea of going back to school feels like a dream existence right now.

Love and random adventures with strangers,

Rogue

Rogue,

We await further developments.

Fondly,

The Young Romance Association

Rogue,

Could that have been a WORSE idea? Admittedly, John was no longer one of your close friends, but couldn't this screw up an awful lot? Your friendship with Bobby? Your friendship with Logan? Your self-respect?

We implore you to consider the consequences!

Sincerely,

The Best Friends Club

Rogue,

You're behaving surprisingly cooly in light of this recent development. Kissing boys in the dark is EXACTLY the type of behaviour we like to see from the post-pubescent, pre-convalescent, popping-anti-depressants, adolescents like yourself!

Consider us pleased with your progress!

The Association of Teenagers.

Goodness, woman. I leave you alone for a few days and you not only make life-altering decisions but also manage a steamy make-out sesh with your former boyfriend's former best friend?

I had my appendix out a couple of years ago, and let me tell you, if I had known the kind of fun I could have had, I would have requested an airlift to Boston U.

I think that it's really admirable of you to want to use your powers to help people. Obviously being able to control your powers would have double benefits because then you could, like, have sex and make out with people all the time, and not just when you're in the hospital. But the fact that you want to use them to save the world? That makes you just about the coolest person in the world.

Sometimes I think I'd like a career that helps people. Right now at school they're making us do all these aptitude tests to see what we'd be good at, and it's weird because I've never really thought that much about what happens after high school, you know? That probably seems really stupid to you, cos you're obviously really smart and probably want to go to college and get a good job and THEN save the world, like on the side or something, but that's the thing. I'm not sure I'm that smart. I get okay grades, but I'm ALWAYS getting in trouble for talking in class or pulling stunts, and I've even been suspended a couple of times. I'm pretty sure universities don't take people who have been suspended for convincing almost the entire 10th grade class to break into a rendition of "Don't Stop Believin'" at exactly 9:16-inadvertently causing the whole school to hum it all day, and effectively driving our teachers crazy-right?

And ugh...I always assumed that Ben and Leah and I would go to the same college, but now that's totally not happening. Not because they aren't talking to me (though they pretty much aren't) or because I'm so sick of tripping over them in the hallway while they're making out (though I am). But because it's pretty dumb to make plans for the future based off of things like high school friendships, and if I was smart AT ALL, I probably would have figured that out a while ago.

And besides, even if I could get into a good college, I don't even know how I would pay for it. My Dad has been so stressed about money lately. Emma and I used to make fun of him, because he's always stressed about something. He'd say things like: "Someone turn off all these lights! We are in BIG financial trouble right now you guys!" or "Let's run the dishwasher in the middle of the night! If we don't cut down on energy costs, we'll be living in a box by the time you graduate!" He's just a bit extremist like that. Lately, instead of saying anything though, he just gets really quiet when the subject of money comes up. I guess it's just different because there's just his income, instead of his and my Mom's like it used to be.

You know what's worse? This isn't even what I'm upset about. It probably should be, you know, if I were normal and responsible instead of spazzy and boy-crazy. I've just been so floopy lately. So up and down. There are days I feel better, like when Emma and I hang out and talk and I feel like maybe things aren't so bad after all? And then I go to school and I just feel...ugh.

See, there's something I didn't tell you about New Years because at the time it didn't really matter, and also because it is kind of embarrassing.

But remember how I ran out the door at like 12:00:30, or whatever? I thought I was being so dramatic by writing it that way, right? Anyway, between the time I ran out and the time I got in the door, I was walking home. I was teetering on these stupid heels I thought it was a good idea to wear, and I was feeling incredibly sorry for myself because it was cold and I was alone and my jacket wasn't warm enough.

Then Jack (my friend from drama club, remember?) drove by me in his car and stopped. He tried to get me to come with him and said he would drive me home. But by that point I was so content with the idea of feeling sorry for myself that I told him to go away. Even though my feet were killing me and I was freezing. It was like I wanted to punish myself, or more likely, wanted to throw a pity party to rival the party I'd just been at, and a nice boy trying to help me was like the cops showing up to bust it.

I wasn't very nice to him at all. So when he drove off, I was able to hate myself a little bit more, because I was just a massive bitch to someone for NO REASON.

The worst thing is, even though I felt bad at the time, it didn't even occur to me to try to apologize it up to him. That is, until this week at drama rehearsal.

I haven't been going to rehearsal, for obvious reasons. But last Friday our drama teacher cornered me after school and asked me where I'd been. I made up a lame excuse about being really busy and babysitting my sister, but I could tell she wasn't buying it. She regarded me sternly for a moment, until I started to get really uncomfortable, and then she said, "'Tis now the summer of your youth; time has not cropt the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them.'"

"Um," I said. "Okay."

"I expect to see you in rehearsal on Monday." Then she turned and swished down the hall. It was really weird. I had no idea why she said that. I mean, she doesn't even like me. I didn't think she'd even notice that I hadn't been showing up. I considered that maybe she had one of those disorders that causes you to say weird things, like Tourettes, except maybe it caused her to spout random Shakespeare at stray students?

I went home and I looked up the quote. It took me a while to find it since I couldn't remember exactly what she'd said. But it turns out it's not Shakespeare at all. It's this guy named Edward Moore who wrote a play called The Gamesters. I couldn't find a description of the play anywhere online, so I tried to read it from the beginning. I thought if I could read the play, I'd understand what she meant by it.

Except I couldn't understand what the heck was happening. And there's even a note from the author at the beginning of the play explaining how he basically dumbed down the language on purpose, so the audience could understand it.

I felt even stupider after reading that, and I spent most of the weekend in a sort of funk, frustrated at my intelligence, frustrated at life, frustrated at everyone. I wouldn't even look in the mirror. I couldn't stand the sight of myself.

And I went to rehearsal today and sat down next to Jack, and he got up and moved to another seat.

I guess he can't stand the sight of me either.

Anyway, this is a wholly depressing letter, and I don't think it's going to get much better. I hope things are going well, and I hope you get better soon. This virus you have does not good. Aside from the making out part, obviously. Let me know how it goes with Logan and John, okay?

Love and bubblegum,

Keltie

Dear Kitty and Jubilee,

Well, THANKS for the warning, guys!

Why did you have to tell Bobby I was sick? Why, why, why, why?

So, I'm just sitting in the hospital room, minding my own business. I've been reading up on mutations but so far haven't found much that I didn't already know. Anyway, because I've been stuck in the room with pretty much nothing to do but SIT or LIE or SLEEP, my legs have been getting really painful and it makes it difficult to sleep. I decided I was going to take a walk. Since they moved us to this new wing there's almost no one on our floor, so I didn't really care what I looked like.

I walked out the door, and BAM!

(You know how in How I Met Your Mother when Marshal goes "BAM! Lawyer-ed!"?)

Well, I was BAM! Iceman-ed.

Which sounds like it could be a pleasant experience, but when you haven't brushed your teeth since the night before and all you're wearing is yoga pants and a shirt that says "Yank These" with a picture of two baseballs that Scott bought as a joke, and your ex-boyfriend comes out of nowhere and pins you against a wall and starts running his hands through your hair and all over your body and is kissing you passionately and you suddenly realize that this IS a pleasant experience and it's a good thing no one is around UNTIL you see your much older teacher/mentor/sworn protector out of the corner of your eye...

Then it just feels like your best friends suck for not giving you more warning.

So, thanks for that.

-Rogue

ROGUE! LOOK AT THIS FAX! THIS IS VERY, VERY URGENT!

ROGUE!

BOBBY IS ON HIS WAY TO SEE YOU!

We're so sorry, Rogue, we tried to stop him!

WE TRIED NOT TO TELL HIM, BUT IT GOT OUT SOMEHOW!

Thanks to Jubilee.

WELL, IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE KITTY TOLD HIM ANYWAY!

And once he found out you were sick...

THAT WAS ALL KITTY.

Well, I hoped once he found out you were ill he wouldn't do something stupid.

LIKE HOP THE FIRST FLIGHT TO BOSTON-

Barge into your hospital room and-

ANNOUNCE HIS UNDYING LOVE FOR YOU-

Before stabbing John in the face-

AND VOWING VENGEANCE OVER YOUR DYING BODY-

Uh, Jubes, she's not dying!

WELL, SHE COULD! NO OFFENCE, ROGUE. BUT THAT WOULD MAKE A MUCH COOLER ENDING.

Call us if any of the above things happen. Although, please don't die. Because then you couldn't call!

Love,

JUBILEE and Kitty

Well, THAT was awkward.

I really don't know what you're talking about.

Seriously? Well, let me recap. First, you come on to me in a totally inappropriate manner. I gracefully but firmly reject your advances. Then, your ex-boyfriend, my ex-friend, shows up, assaults you in the hallway and reveals that he made a HUGE mistake by breaking up with you and that it was only because he thought you were bored of him but now that you're dying of a horrible disease he wants to kiss and make out. AND all of this was witnessed by a feral man-beast, AKA our teacher, AKA the man you've harbored a not so subtle obsession with since he saved your life on one of America's most cherished landmarks, and cemented his place in your heart and consciousness. AND your ex-boyfriend, my ex-friend, revealed that this disease we both suffer from not only has a name, but is also the reason for the increase in mysterious mutant deaths all over the globe, not to mention the death of the sister of a teammate we both know and love. AND THEN-after a delightful back and forth in which it was implied that your ex-boyfriend, my ex-friend preferred boys to girls, and after it was implied that my mother is morbidly obese, and after it was (okay, I purposefully) implied that we were planning on eloping to Vegas and that you were pregnant with my child-after all that, the feral man-beast, the current love of your life, told your ex-boyfriend, my ex-friend, to turn right around and go back to school, because he didn't have the time to "baby-sit anymore of you brats".

Awkward, no?

Go away.

And I did not come on to you.

The fact that you latch onto that part of the entire scenario indicates that you enjoyed it more than you can say.

Dear Keltie,

Okay, first of all? You are not stupid. Would a stupid person be able to convince the entire sophomore class to break into song ALL at the same time? I don't think so. That is the sign of a highly intelligent individual, one who possesses leadership qualities, a creative mind, and most importantly, a sense of humor. Just imagining how your teachers must have reacted to that stunt cheered me up immensely today, and I definitely needed it.

Second of all, Jack is an idiot. I take back everything I said about him sounding hot. He sounds like a tool, and you can do WAY better.

Although, I mean. It wouldn't hurt to apologize to him. Not that I don't TOTALLY understand why you would want to walk home in the freezing cold in painful shoes rather than get a ride with him, but apologies never hurt. Maybe he was just having a bad day today?

Please don't be sad. It makes me sad to hear you so bummed out. I wish you were here so I could give you a hug and make you feel better.

I feel so helpless because I don't know what to say to make you feel better. I feel entirely helpless in general. I feel like a gigantic sigh is just permanently lodged in my lungs, lately. What a pair we make, huh?

After that whole escapade with John, I was pretty much feeling like nothing more could surprise me. Nuclear bomb from Canada? Whatever. The eligious right declaring that gay marriage is A-OK? No biggie.

But I didn't expect Bobby showing up and kissing me out of nowhere. That definitely shocked me. And of course, because my life is some kind of reality show, guess who happened to turn the corner after that?

That would be Logan, coming to bring me your letter and make sure John and I weren't getting into trouble.

It was terribly awkward, as you can imagine, and while Logan was telling Bobby to go home, Bobby was trying to explain to me that he didn't dump me because of my mutation, but because I didn't seem interested in him anymore, and blah blah blah. And of course, John had to get out of bed and see what was going on. The resulting stare down would have been very intimidating-if John hadn't been in his hospital gown. And Bobby hadn't been sending me sideways glances with these horrible puppy-dog eyes.

They exchanged some words and Bobby said some things about John's mom and implied that I was a slut (only because it was Bobby, it was a lot more along the lines of "You are a moderately promiscuous female, who on occasion stands on street corners.")

Logan got tired of this, popped his claws, and told Bobby to go home.

He left relatively quickly after that.

But not before he told us that we were going to die. Not like he threatened to kill us. He just told us some stuff about the Legacy Virus. I guess that's what it's called, this thing we have. Logan tried to get him to shut up, but I grabbed his arm and made him tell me what he knew.

Basically, it doesn't look good. AT ALL. And even worse, apparently Bobby overheard a discussion about the possibility that a certain metalhead we all know and loathe is trying to obtain samples of this virus, so he can reverse it and infect humans instead of mutants. Lovely, right? Like we don't already have enough freaking problems on our plates.

Anyway, I'm not going to get into it because both of us are already depressed enough.

You know what would cheer you up? Writing me another letter. This has the added bonus of cheering ME up.

Love and emo pop songs,

Rogue

Rogue,

Please call me. 555-4532

Bobby.

To: Bobby (555-4532)
From: (555-2953)

It's Rogue. What's up?

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

Rogue, I love you. Please tell me there's nothing going on between you and John?

To: Bobby (555-4532)
From: (555-2953)

Is that all you care about? In case you don't remember, I'm possibly DYING from a serious disease.

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

You didn't answer the question.

To: Bobby (555-4532)
From: (555-2953)

You dumped me, remember?

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

I thought that was what you wanted! I told you that the other night. You never seemed interested in being my girlfriend. And then you just ran off to Boston...

To: Bobby (555-4532)
From: (555-2953)

I didn't "run off to Boston". I came to Boston after you dumped me. To help Scott. Our teacher?

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

And now your cavorting with The Enemy, and getting yourself sick!

To: Bobby
From: (555-2953)

Because I totally wanted to get the Legacy Virus! Just to spite you. John isn't the enemy, Bobby. And there is no "cavorting" to speak of.

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

What is going on between you two?

To: Bobby
From: (555-2953)

He's hot, passionate, and controlling. Especially when it comes to the remote control.

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

Be serious.

To: Bobby (555-4532)
From: (555-2953)

Nothing, Bobby! What do you think? We're both sick. It's an exciting day when we get to watch the Family Guy instead of The Golden Girls. But it's not even any of your business, because you dumped me!

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

I didn't dump you! Is something going on with Logan then?

To: Bobby
From: (555-2953)

Oh my God.

I'm ending this conversation.

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

Please don't, I want to keep talking about this. Whose phone is this?

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

Rogue?

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

Please, Rogue, just talk to me.

To: Bobby (555-4532)
From: (555-2953)

You had better be back at school, Popsicle, or you won't live to see your graduation day.

-Logan

Rogue,

I'm writing another letter to you because I think I've had an epiphany. Even though I haven't received a response from my last letter, I really need to tell you about this.

The last time I wrote, I was really upset and honestly feeling as low as I've felt since New Years Eve. i.e: As low as the lowdown on the lowest part of Lowtown.

After I got back from posting your letter, I moped around the house, feeling sorry for myself. My Dad came home from work, saw me sitting upside down on the couch, morosely, and snapped.

"Katelyn Elizabeth Matthews," he yelled. "I am sick and tired of coming home and finding you lying around, looking like a farmhouse of puppies has burned to the ground and the President announced an embargo on Toberones. Get off that g-d couch and go to your room! And when you come down for dinner, you had better have a smile on your face!"

I looked at him upside-down, not used to seeing my (normally kind, calm) father in such a state. He appeared to be quite serious, so I somersaulted backwards off the couch, and stomped up to my room. Secretly, I was pleased. If I had my way, I'd stay in my room until school was done and I could leave for college.

I know, I know. I'm pathetic. But don't worry, it gets better. Emma came up to check on me, and, to my deep shock and surprise, cheered me up immensely. She told me that she'd scored really well on these standardized tests she had to take at school, and was being moved up to the gifted class. She's scored almost 100% in the area of 'emotional intelligence'.

You'd think it would make me feel worse, that my little sister is probably smarter (and probably less socially inept) than I am or will ever be, but it didn't. I was just so proud of her. She gets really anxious about school and what her friends think and stuff, to the point where she sometimes throws up if she has to do a presentation or something in class.

"Keltie," she told me, looking down at her lap. "I'm worried that people are going to pick on me for being in the loser class."

"What people?" She shrugged. "Emma, the only thing that matters is what you think. Be a leader, not a follower, and don't let other people get in the way of your success."

Then it was like in one of those cartoons, and a lightbulb went off above my head.

I learned in psychology class that some people can be addicted to emotions almost the same way drug addicts are addicted to drugs. So like, you can be addicted to adrenaline so you go jump out of planes or helicopters, and there are also people who get addicted to being angry or feeling sorry for themselves because it sends this rush of chemicals to your brain in the same way that drugs do. I think I might be one of those people. I think I'm addicted to feeling sorry for myself.

After Emma left, I turned my computer on and I went back to the quote from my drama teacher. I re-read the scene it was from. I'm still not sure I understand it entirely, but it sounds like there is a girl, and her husband has gambled away all their money, and cheated on her a bunch. Her husband's friend goes to her and tells her that she doesn't deserve to be treated that way, that she is still young and beautiful ("'Tis now the summer of your youth; time has not cropt the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them") and has a lot to offer.

Then he comes on to her and offers to kill her husband. Which I HOPE wasn't the point my drama teacher was trying to make, but regardless. I think I get it. And thus, time for my epiphany:

This whole thing with Ben and Leah is not the end of the world.

You're probably thinking: Obviously. And really, it is obvious. And I did know that before, but it was like the other night it just HIT ME. That I'm turning myself into a victim here. That Ben and Leah aren't purposefully trying to exclude me, and that I have a lot of other friends. That I was isolating myself, because it was easier to fit that into my tiny view of how the world is out to get me. That I'm still in the summer of MY youth, and there is less than no point wasting it moping around about this.

Anyway, I spent the rest of the night on the internet, reading the play and trying to understand it, and looking up stuff about this Edward Moore guy. I even wrote down the quote in a little notebook, so I don't forget it.

Then I started thinking, about the things that I'm really good at, and one of those things is elaborate schemes. So I started plotting, and figuring out logistics, and by the next morning I'd come up with a plan that will rival my other stunts times, like, a million. I even figured out the perfect co-conspirators: Jack and this girl Kennedy who also works on the play with us.

Then I remembered the last time I saw Jack, and it occurred to me that I hadn't properly talked to him since that awful night. I started feeling paralyzed by doubt...but I tried to shake it off and decided I would just have to apologize.

It turned out it wasn't quite as simple as that. My stomach was full of butterflies all day, but fortunately this distracted me from the disturbing sight of Ben and Leah practically having sex against my locker.

I walked into rehearsal and sat down next to Jack, like I always used to. He didn't look up from the script, but he didn't get up and move, either. I nudged him. "Hey," I said. "I have an idea." He glanced at me, but only for a second, then he turned back to the script. I nudged him again. Finally he put the script down and looked at me, eyebrows raised.

"Look," I said, in what I hoped was a contrite tone. "I'm sorry." He continued to look at me, as if to say, 'Is that all?'

"I'm really sorry," I added. "I was a huge bitch on New Years and you didn't deserve that."

He shook his head at me. "I don't care about New Years, Keltie."

I was confused. "You don't?"

"Not really. I just don't understand why you've basically disappeared off the face of whatever planet you live on."

I shrugged. "I've been going through some stuff." It was the lamest excuse ever, and I could tell by the look on his face that he thought so too.

"Some stuff," he repeated. "Does it have anything to do with that?" He nodded his head toward the stage. It was the kissing scene. Of course.

I swallowed, and forced myself to turn away, to face him. "No," I lied, trying to keep my voice steady. "Some family stuff. But it's sorted now."

The look he gave me told me he didn't believe me for a second, but he didn't turn back to the script. "What's this idea?"

I grinned. "It's great. Better than "Don't Stop Believin'." And there's virtually no chance it can be traced back to us, which is good because I can't afford to get suspended again."

"Are you going to tell me what it is, or do I have to guess?"

"Depends. Does this mean you forgive me?"

"You going to disappear again?"

I shook my head. He regarded me carefully for another moment, then turned back to the script. "Good. Because this shit is intolerable without company."

I leaned back in my chair, a smile on my face, figuring that was good enough for now.

I showed him the plans I'd drawn up, after Kennedy showed up and took over the script. He was skeptical at first, but when I explained the concept, he agreed it was pretty epic.

I'm not going to tell you what the plan is yet, because there's a chance that this letter could be intercepted. But don't worry, you'll hear about it soon enough.

I've got to go now, because rehearsal is almost over. I'm going to check the mailbox on the way out, to see if you've written back yet. I hope nothing too exciting has happened, because my hand hurts and I'm not sure I could manage another reply right away.

Are you proud of me though? I think I'm growing. I still need to convince Jack that he can trust me, and hopefully I can pull off this stunt without getting suspended (or arrested) and hopefully figure out what to do with the rest of my life, but it's a start.

Love and scented markers,

Keltie

P.S. Okay, I couldn't help but open your letter as soon as I got it, and I needed to add this to the end before I drop it off at the post office.

Um, wow? Bobby showing up and declaring his undying love! Logan walking in on you two making up! An Iceman/Pyro staredown! Promise me you'll write a book someday, okay? I'm almost embarrassed to send you this letter now, but I'm going to because I know you will kill me if I don't and because I can't not share this with you. At this point I feel like you might know me better than anyone.

I just need to know one more thing: How did Logan react? Was he angry at Bobby? Jealous? Ambilivalent? I need details!

And just how serious is this disease? Legacy is a weird name for a virus. I always thought legacies were good things, like money or heirlooms or something? I'm going to ask my Dad if he's ever heard anything about it tonight. Is that okay? I hope that's okay.

:)

Dearest Rogue,

It seems as though you've gotten a bit confused. Never fear, sugar, we're here to help. We understand that it's been a while since you've had...ahem...physical contact, with the opposite sex. However, we'd like to remind you that Good Southern Ladies should not make a habit of necking with gentlemen.

Remember, Rogue. A Good Southern Lady always keeps her cards close to her chest. A Good Southern Lady always distinguishes between her suitors and ensures that they do not come into contact with each other.

A Good Southern Lady does not make out with two friends (or former friends) after breaking up with her boyfriend.

If a Good Southern Lady does decide to disregard the above advice, she tries to remain discreet about such dalliances. She is especially careful not to let other potential suitors witness said indiscretions.

A Good Southern Lady doesn't want to come off as desperate, after all.

Bless your heart, you'll figure it out yet!

Society for the Preservation of Good Southern Manners.

Dear Keltie,

I AM proud of you. I was getting worried...all of your letters were so sad, and I hated to think of you isolating yourself. Of course you have friends-you are lovely and anyone with eyes should be able to see that.

I was thinking about what you said, about being addicted to feeling sorry for yourself, and how that night when you were walking home, you just wanted to punish yourself so you'd have more to feel bad about?

Scott used to say that teenagers exist inside of their own bubble, and even when you try to look outside of that bubble, everything is weird and swirly and multicolored and it's hard to see things with any kind of perspective. Which is why you shouldn't be too hard on yourself, because you know what? Everyone else is in a bubble too. Ben and Leah are in their own little bubble and they can't see how much they're hurting you, just like you were in your bubble and didn't realize you might have hurt Jack. We're all just floating around, bumping into each other occasionally.

I asked Scott if things became clearer as you got older-if the bubble ever popped-and he laughed and said: "Not really. But it does get bigger."

Your bubble is getting bigger, Keltie Matthews, and I'm really proud of you.

As for things with me...well...

Logan is giving me the cold shoulder. I know I should be more concerned about imminent death, but I'm not. More accurately, I don't want to be. I have other concerns

Like Logan coming down the hall just as Bobby was pushing me up against it. Is it weird that I am embarrassed by this? I mean, Bobby was my boyfriend. Now that I can touch, is it really so wrong that I enjoyed making out with him?

It was just the look on Logan's face...I can't describe it. Now I'm feeling totally confused, guilty, and mad at myself. It's so frustrating that this is how it is again.

It seems like that's how it's always been with Logan, and thats how it's always going to be. I never know where we stand. We used to sit on the porch and chat about life, and on those nights, I fall asleep with a smile on my face, sure that we are the best of friends. But we can go for weeks at a time without speaking, and that's when I begin to feel unsure. I start tiptoeing around, until we have another night like tonight, a night I'm sure we can't come back from, when it seems like everything must have changed.

Because the problem is, I do want things to change. Anyone with a set of eyes can see I've always been a little...infatuated, with Logan. I mean, the guy saved my life. Twice. More than that-he was there when I needed someone. Whether I can call him a friend or a mentor, the guy irrevocably changed my life, and I never let myself doubt that it was for the better.

Jubilee and Kitty have known how I felt for ages, although by now they've gotten used to not mentioning it. Bobby, too, in a way. It's waned, on and off, since I met him. After Liberty Island, probably, was when it was at it's worst. Back then, though, I was still dealing with having other people's thoughts in my head, and weird powers I didn't understand. I spent the first few weeks turning everything in my sight into magnets. I mean, things that never should have been magnets. Like Hank's toolbox. Or Scott's BMW. And I was trying to quit smoking, despite never enjoying it in the first place. I can't even talk about the nightmares.

But even those weren't as bad as the other dreams. You know. THOSE kinds of dreams. I'm blushing just thinking about them. How can I explain? It was like I had free cable in my head, and the channels were 24/7 Skinemax. I'm talking graphic, vivid dreams that couldn't possibly come from my own imagination. With my newfound libido, not to mention the natural hero-worship that comes from someone saving your life multiple times-well, lets just say I was infatuated with a capital I.

Then I started concentrating on school, and I made new friends, and suddenly there was a boy-a really cute, sweet boy-who was interested in me, and everything started to get a lot more normal. I know, you're thinking "How normal could life at mutant high be?" but it was as close to normal as I could imagine. We didn't party or go to football games or prom or any of the stuff I'm sure you do all the time, but we went to the movies and did homework and pulled pranks on the teachers. Either way, life became a lot more...regular. Scheduled. Predictable. In a good way.

When Logan first came back, I was relieved, and a little anxious, but I had firmly thrown myself into being "Bobby's girlfriend" and that-not to mention the attack on the mansion, absorbing John, falling out of, and then crashing the jet-kept me pretty occupied. I knew how he felt about Jean, and if not, I certainly did once she died. We all dealt with things in our own way, and his, it seemed, was talking to me. It didn't occur to him that I might have other things to do. He'd find me in the library, or making a snack, or once even in the middle of the night. "Hey kid," he'd say. "Feel like taking a walk?"

It didn't occur to him that I'd ever say no. It never occured to me that I could.

That's how we got so close. I'd say that we were already close, what with me absorbing him several times, but this was different. Mostly we walked around the grounds, sometimes not even speaking. I alway liked the spring the best. I didn't feel self-conscious about being covered up, and my Southern sensibility found comfort in the fact that I no longer had to deal with the cold Northern winters. Logan liked the fall. I postulated once, on a day I was feeling particularly deep and observant, that it was because he was more comfortable with death than life.

"No," he had replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I like the colours."

I found out these things about him-things I doubted anyone else had ever known. When he's distracted, he'll still go out of his way to step on a particularly crunchy looking leaf or twig. For someone whose biggest liability is his inability to sneak up on people, I found this endlessly amusing. He also, I learned, could speak several language-many of which he didn't remember learning.

I did more listening than talking on these walks. It helped me sort out some of the things in my head. Memories or feelings that had no significance until he explained them. I never came right out and asked-I think just the reminder that I knew so much about him and he so little about me would have freaked him out. But then, maybe that was why he felt comfortable talking to me-because he didn't have to explain himself.

Not to sound bitchy or possessive-I know Logan belongs to no one, least of all myself-but I doubt that Jean ever knew these things about him. Or that he knew anything about her, for that matter.

Jean wasn't a huge sharer, but just being around her you picked up on things. Like her warmth, and her intelligence. But just like with Logan, I also knew things I'm not sure anyone else did, except maybe the Professor. Scott was so deeply in love with her I think even if he could feel the conflict inside of her, he ignored it. Jean and I spent a lot of time together, mostly, I think because she was fascinated by my ability and what role my mind had in controlling it. Also, we shared a not so subtle addiction to old sitcom re-runs. Sometimes when neither of us could sleep, we'd stay up watching I Love Lucy or The Golden Girls, and she'd tell me things-about her day, or planning her and Scott's wedding, or growing up as a telepath.

This is going to sound crazy, I'm fully aware, but I got the sense, sometimes, that there was more to Jean than even she knew.

Of course, the things I sensed don't make any more sense to me now than they did then.

I know, though, when Logan talks about Jean, that he didn't really know her, not the way I think you need to know someone to be truly in love with them. Not that knowledge is required for love. Clearly, I loved Logan when he saved my life. And though I can hardly claim to "understand" the Professor, I love him for everything he's given me.

But Logan will never know how Jean sprinkled chocolate chips over her popcorn or how she cried at those commercials that ask you to sponsor a child in Africa. He's never seen her stay up all night with a kid who was homesick or vomiting and still be bright eyed and bushy-tailed the next morning for classes and X-Men meetings. He's never seen how truly in love she was with Scott, or he with her.

By the same token, he's never run into her before she had her coffee in the morning, or when she got too busy to get her eyebrows waxed or her hair blown out, or when she was having trouble with her telepathy and took her frustration out on her friends.

I guess he'll never get a chance to know or see those things now, but that doesn't stop him from dreaming about her, fantasizing about her, idealizing her. Jean was an amazing person, but she was far from perfect, and I don't think Logan gets that. Because she was taken away so early, it's like she's still this perfect picture in his mind.

I used to think I'd give anything to have him think of me like that, but I don't think that's true. I'd always be worried about disappointing him. I'd way rather have him know me-really know me, like I know him-and love me anyway. And I suppose I'd rather have him love me as a friend than not love me at all.

It's a moot point, anyway. Not only does he probably think I'm too young, but I mean, come on. I can barely function as a teenager. How could I even compare to the women he's had? How could I even compare to Jean?

Ugh, listen to me rambling on! I don't even know where that came from! I guess I just have a lot of time to think, and I've been doing an awful lot of that lately. John too. I guess being told your life expectancy is suddenly drastically shortened will do that to you.

Anyway, those are my thoughts for the day.

Love, Rogue.

Dear Rogue,

I've been thinking a lot about love lately. I've noticed that no one seems to know anything about it. My aunt told me to wait until I found a boy who "took my breath away" before sleeping with anyone. "Ew," I said, when she brought up the topic. My Dad told me that good relationships are often based on timing. I asked them both if good relationships had anything to do with love at all, and they couldn't answer me.

Leah seems to think being in love is having that person be the center of your life. She's ditched all her friends, not just me. Ben doesn't seem to feel the same way. I can tell because when she met him at his locker this afternoon he told her that he didn't remember making any plans, and that he was going to play hockey with his friends. She looked crushed, but he brushed it off. It was almost enough to make me feel bad for her. Almost.

I used to think that having someone love me would make all my problems go away. But that's pretty stupid, isn't it? Because everyone has problems of their own. Most people are so busy keeping their own heads above water that they can't stop to rescue us as well.

I thought a lot about your letter, and what I have to say is this: I think Logan is selfish. Really, extremely selfish. You let him pour even more of his mind into you, and he doesn't even try and get to know you better? Come on.

I mean, I know the guy saved your life x number of times. Obviously, I can see why you're so smitten with him, but I don't think you-or he-are giving yourself enough credit. You flew the jet, you stopped John from killing those cops, you saved yourself when Logan almost killed you. If anyone could give Logan a run for his money, it's you, woman or not.

That being said...I know you've been through more than I can imagine, and you've had to grow up way faster than I have, but you're still only 18. What business does he have telling you about his love for your teacher? Why doesn't he want to hear more about your life? It's not an equal friendship if he's doing all the talking.

I know this because I used to do the same thing with Ben. I used to feel privileged, even, when Ben would share his problems with me. Like he was giving me permission to try and make him feel better. I feel almost sick thinking about how happy I would get just listening to him tell me about his D in Math class.

If love is all about understanding the other person, like you said, how could Logan love you, if he doesn't even know you? How could I have ever thought that Ben loved me?

I'm starting to think maybe we've blown this whole "guy" thing out of proportion. Maybe what's most important is that we can give ourselves what we need, rather than the other way around.

If Leah were here, she'd tell me I was hovering dangerously close to the "militant feminist" zone, but what do I care? She could do with a little more feminism, the way she's been acting.

Love and hairy-legged feminists,

Keltie.

Rogue,

Even Keltie can see that Logan could never be interested in you. Did you read that line: How could Logan love you?

How is it, Rogue, that a 16 year old has to tell you what we've been telling you for years?

How is it that you're still not getting it?

Sincerely,

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Rogue,

It's time to make a decision: Are you going to: (please check all that apply)

[] Wait around, letting boys kiss you without any say in the matter?

[] Lie back and let this disease slowly kill you?

[] Let life pass you by?

[] Spend your remaining days in a hospital bed?

[] Playing cards with your former arch nemesis ?

[] While the potential true love of your life avoids you like the plague?

[] Grab life by the balls, get up in its face and scream, "I'M NOT GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE!"?

Kindly inform us of your decision ASAP. Please allow 6-8 weeks for shipping and processing.

Sincerely,

Life Decisions Made Easy, Ltd.

Dear Rogue,

That was oh so smooth. Really, we don't even know why we're surprised anymore. Even when you try to do something Brave and Daring for once in your life, you still chicken out at the last minute.

Go bury your head in the sand. You're not even worth the (hypothetical) ink being wasted on this letter.

Sincerely,

The Association of Teenagers

Keltie,

I really thought that the next time I would be writing to you, it would be to say one of the following two things:

"You're going to be so proud of me."

OR

"I've made a huge mistake."

Unfortunately, I cannot start this letter with either of those things (and not just because the letter has already begun, making it impossible to start with either of those things, anyway). I can't start the letter like that, because I haven't even DONE anything.

I wanted to be brave. I wanted to be a bombshell, a vixen. I wanted to have moxie, to be sassy, sexy, and alluring. I wanted to be completely and totally devastating.

The truth of the matter is, I'm none of those things.

Except maybe devastatingly pathetic.

I suppose I'll start from the beginning.

In the last week, I've been kissed by two boys. That's 50% of kisses that I've received in my life. Both times, I was taken entirely by surprise. Both times, I had no say in the matter. Both times, I barely even had time to react, let alone respond, before the whole thing was over.

And you know what I've been thinking, Keltie? I've been thinking that I might die soon. I've been thinking that even if I don't die soon, this whole thing with my skin isn't going to last forever. I've been thinking that if I'm going to be kissing anyone, I should get a say in who that is.

I've been thinking that I'd really like that person to be Logan.

SO. This is what I did: I told John to cover for me. He wanted to know where I was going of course, but I told him that it was none of his business. He didn't like that response, but I figured by the time anyone figured out where I was, my objective would be accomplished, and one way or another, I'd be on my way back to the hospital.

The walk to the hotel wasn't too far, but it was cold. My teeth were chattering by the time I entered the lobby, although that could have had more to do with nervousness than the temperature.

I knew the floor Logan was on, but not the room, so I followed the smell of cigar smoke (I'm guessing his size was enough to prevent the staff from enforcing the "No Smoking" ban) to a room at the end of the hall. I took a deep breath, praying for bravery, while my stomach flipped over.

I knocked.

I heard water stop, and a moment later Logan opened the door, nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His usual scent of cigar smoke, leather and testosterone was replaced by the scent of generic soap.

"'The hell you doing out of the hospital?" he asked, his voice gruff. It snapped me out of my 6-pack induced trace.

I smiled and slipped by him into the room. "Hello to you too, Logan. Lovely day, isn't it?"

I honestly don't know where that glibness came from. It certainly hadn't made it to my knees, which were shaking as I slid my scarf off.

He looked into the hallway, and, after a moment's hesitation, closed the door. I sat myself down on his bed, noticing that the sheets had been hurled into the corner of the room.

"Why are you here, kid?"

"I'm bored!" I pouted. "I'm sick of the hospital. I feel absolutely fine. John is driving me crazy and Bobby pretty much left after the...encounter you stumbled upon." He ran a hand through his hair, saying nothing. "I've read every book I can get my hands on about this stupid virus, and since I'm pretty much going to die-"

"You're gonna die." His head snapped to look at me.

"-I don't want to spend the rest of my time in the hospital." I finished. I clasped my hands in my lap and waited for his reaction.

He sighed. Turning around, he walked into the bathroom. When he came out he was wearing a pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt. Leaning against the doorframe, he considered me. I raised my eyebrows. "What did you have in mind?" he said, grudgingly.

I grinned. "I want to get drunk."

He exhaled a large breath. "Yeah, right."

"I'm being serious," I said, as he crossed the room and threw open the curtains, wincing at the bright light.

"I like that you think I'm not." He leaned down and started digging for something in his bag, which I noticed carried quite a lot. How had he known Scott would ask him to stay so long? I wondered.

"Why not?" I said. "I'm young and reckless and I've done all these crazy things but I've never had a beer in a bar. I'm not going to die without getting totally and completely hammered at least once in my life."

"No, you're not." He said. "Because you're not goin' to die. Will you stop saying that?"

"If you take me to a bar and get me loaded."

"No."

"Why not?" I whined. "If you say 'Because I said so' you lose any and all cool points you might have."

He just shook his head at me, still digging in his bag. "Lots of reasons," he said. "Not the least being that you're underage."

"Not in Quebec." I protested.

"So go to Quebec."

"Take me to Quebec."

"No." He closed his bag and stood up. He tossed me the object he'd been searching for. It was a Blackberry, identical to the one Scott had just purchased.

"What's this?"

"Scott gave it to me. I don't know how the hell to use it."

"And you want me to show you? That's your alternative suggestion?"

He made a face at me. Comical. "I want you to call him and ask him what you just asked me."

"Pffft." I spluttered. "Right."

He gave me a look. I sighed. "You're getting soft, Logan."

"Maybe." He said. Then a moment's hesitation. "'What do you mean, soft?"

"Well, for one, you just called Scott 'Scott' instead of a snippy little nickname. And two..."

"Not taking an underage girl to a bar at two o'clock in the afternoon when she's dressed like jailbait does not make me soft," he interrupted.

I continued like I hadn't heard him "...next thing you know you'll be staying at the mansion longer and longer...reading bedtime stories to the kids...wearing socks with sandals..."

He snorted. I vaguely wondered how he got his hair to stay like it did when mine usually wouldn't obey maximum hold gel, a flat iron, or the laws of gravity.

"Staying here in Boston, and being Scott's bitch is just the first step-"

"Hey," he said, looking me straight in the eye. "I'm here because of you, not Scott." His eyes held mine, and I felt a catch in my throat as my next sentence died on my lips. I caught his message loud and clear. He was saying he'd put up with everything to this point, but I was taking it a step too far. I didn't know if was guilt or a twisted sense of honour that's kept him from taking off, but I do know what his eyes were saying: Don't push your luck.

"Okay," I said, despising how small my voice sounded. My plan went out the window. It was pretty obvious that whatever I'd expected, whatever reaction I'd hoped for, was now completely out of the question. I felt drained of energy all of a sudden, and my resolve just weakened. I closed my eyes and lay back on the bed. I suddenly wanted to throw up. Was this how it was always going to be? Was I only ever going to be with boys who could make decisions for me? Was I never going to be able to decide these things on my terms? An image of myself, as a lonely, acquiescent virgin on my death bed floated through my mind, and I shook my head. That wasn't going to happen.

"Kid?" Logan asked. I cringed at the endearment.

"I'm not feeling well," I lied, standing up. "I'm going to go back to the hospital."

He grabbed his jacket. "I'll go with you."

"No!" I said, jerking my head. "I mean, no. I'm fine. It's just down the street." Before he could say anything I threw open the hotel door and walked out. As soon as I reached the stairwell I sped up, racing down the stairs so I could be out of his sight in case he tried to follow me. Once outside I set off in the opposite direction I'd come in. I found the first bar a couple of blocks away, and that is where I am sat now, writing this letter.

Pathetic, right? I'm going to die soon. I have literally nothing to lose, and I still couldn't even go through with it.

Anyway. I'm getting good and drunk. It's decided.

I guess being a college town, Boston has some pretty strict policies on ID, but I have about 10 personalities and 8 months on the road under my belt. I know how to order drinks like a seasoned pro, and I know how to tip so that the bartender doesn't ask too many questions. This one, to his credit, has been refilling my bourbon and Coke without me even having to ask.

It's funny though, because I'm not really feeling it. I've had about 5 of these now, and I feel a little lightheaded, but it's nothing like I imagined it would be. Have you ever been drunk? Is this all it is?

What am I saying? Of course you have! Because you're pretty and popular and go to parties all the time. I wish I could be more like that.

Several guys have approached me, but I've turned them down. I've decided that if I'm going to do this, (whatever "this" is-I haven't exactly decided yet) I'm going to be picky. Taking control, you know? It's pretty much the only thing I can control at this point.

Logan's right about one thing, though. I do look like jailbait. This is going to be even easier than I hoped.

I'm just going to order a couple more drinks, and then I'm going to go talk to those guys playing pool in the corner. The blonde one is kind of cute...

Wish me luck!

Rogue

Rogue,

Pain. Pain like you've never known it before. Pain coursing up and down your body like it's a racecar and you're the NASCAR track.

Also: The Smell.

Like garbage dipped in sewage and mixed with a good dose of hobo sweat. What is that?

Oh. How awkward.

It's you.

Welcome to your very first hangover,

Sincerely,

The Morning After Club (in no way or form associated with: The Morning After Pill, The Morning Glory Adventure Club, the Deborah Cox album, the 1986 film staring Jane Fonda and Jeff Bridges, or The Breakfast Club)

Rogue! Look at this note! Attached to this Large Bottle of Water!

STEP ONE: Drink the water

STEP TWO: Swallow the pills next to it (just Tylenol, I swear)

Think you can handle that?

-J-Dawg

P.S. What the eff happened to you?

LETTER #2/2

Dear Keltie,

You may recall from the previous letter my inability to start with one of two potential phrases?

That has changed. Because:

I've made a huge mistake.

You would not be proud of me.

You're probably not that surprised, given the way the last letter ended. I don't know why I'm surprised either. I guess I just thought what with the whole "dying" thing, the world might think I'd had enough and given me a break. Might have just let me get rid of my virginity in an uncomplicated, consequence-free way.

Not that that's what I was trying to do, necessarily. Get rid of my virginity, I mean (you can rest assured that it is still very much in my possession). I just wanted to...I don't even know, exactly. Maybe just make myself feel a little better about Logan's rejection.

I should have learned from all those after school specials that alcohol doesn't solve anything. There's also probably a lesson somewhere about how your virginity is sacred and pure, but as I can't even see straight, finding the moral of the story is not my top priority.

I'm so humiliated right now that it actually painful to write out what happened, but I'm going to, if only so that the next time I consider putting bourbon (or vodka, or rum) to my lips, you can shake this in front of my face and remind me that bourbon (or vodka, or rum) is the DEVIL'S BEVERAGE.

Just like I said I was going to, I walked right over to those boys and introduced myself (Well, I introduced 'Olivia'). They looked pleased as punch that I'd come over and wasted no time making sure I had a fresh drink.

"Would you believe," I said, smiling in what I hoped could be described as an 'alluring' manner. "That I've never played pool before?"

"Really,' Blonde guy said, winking at his friends. 'Well, we can certainty teach you."

"Really, sugar?" I said. I was trying to emulate my cousin Rhonda, who was an expert at picking up men. "That would be just swell!"

(I may have been overdoing it just a tad)

(Not that they seemed to mind)

"What are you trying to pull, kid?" Logan's voice sounded it my ear. I gasped, and whirled around to give him a piece of my mind.

There was no one there. I searched the bar, but it was just me and these guys. I shook my head and smiled at Blonde guy again, when I felt an odd sensation on my waist. I put my hand in my pocket and pulled out the Blackberry, which I didn't even realize I had brought with me.

"One second," I held up a finger to the boys. They looked at me strangely, exchanging a glance.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Rogue?" a voice said. "Is that you?"

"Why yes it is," I answered, twirling a piece of hair around my finger.

"Rogue? Are you with Rogue? I need to speak to her."

"Yes, it's me," I said impatiently. "Who is this?"

"This isn't funny," the voice said. "What is that, Japanese? I need to speak to Rogue. Please give this phone to her."

I narrowed my eyes. "Who is this?"

They hung up. Confused, I put the Blackberry back in my pocket. And then I had to grab the pool table, because I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. I only realized I was nearly to the ground when two of the boys pulled me back up.

"Woah," one of them said. "Your hands are like ice cubes."

"How much have you had to drink?" asked the other.

"What?" I said. The room was spinning, and I gripped his shirt to keep from falling back down. "Only two. Or ten."

"I don't understand," the guy said. He turned to his friends. "What language is she speaking?"

"It's Japanese," said a voice from behind him, and this time it really was Logan.

"Uh-oh." I said. He just gave me a look like: You think?

He walked up to the guy I was holding onto. I stepped back, trying to find the wall, a chair, something else to hold on to, but the floor suddenly shifted up behind me. Logan grabbed me around the waist and practically picked me up, guiding me away.

"Dude-" Blonde guy protested. "Who are you?"

He growled. Blonde Guy backed off.

"Is that all you got?" I looked back at Blond Guy. "Come on!" I shouted. "I want to see a fight!" I jabbed my fists out, hitting Logan in the jaw and nearly falling over again. He sighed and picked me up so that my hands were pinned by my side. "Hey!" I said.

"Everything okay here?" The bartender, deciding now to be responsible. Logan swiveled to look at him. The room spun the opposite way and I was about to be sick.

"You've been serving her?" Logan snarled. The bartender took a look at me and I could see his career flash before his eyes.

"Look, guy-" he said. Logan narrowed his eyes. The bartender straightened up. "She's clearly had too much," he admitted. "But you can't just pick her up and take her away. For all I know you could be a-criminal, or something." His eyes flicked nervously to Logan's arms. "I'll call the cops."

"That so?" Logan said. He put me down and took my purse. I tried to protest, but the act of standing straight took too much concentration. Logan pulled out my wallet and handed the bartender my license without looking at it.

"Her name is Marie D'Ancanto, she lives in Westchester, New York. She's 5'6 and 130 pounds. And if you look right down at the bottom there, bub, I think you'll see that she's underage. Still want to call the cops?"

The bartender handed the license back without a word. "Good luck," he said to Logan, glancing at me.

"Not in Quebec!" I protested.

Logan nodded at him and grabbed my arm roughly, dragging me out of the bar. I preferred it when he was carrying me. Walking was so much more...complicated.

As soon as we got outside, I broke out of Logan's grasp. Running down the nearest alley, I leaned my forehead against the wall, taking deep breaths and trying to straighten out my head. I saw Logan come up behind me out of the corner of my eye. He stayed in a doorway across from where I was bent over. I couldn't read his expression. I waited for him to say something, ask me what the hell I'd been thinking. But nothing came, and with the way he was looking at me, it was almost worse.

"I see why you do it now," I said finally, poking my finger into a crevice in the brick. He said nothing, so I continued. "Drinking, I mean. It's like, for just a little while, you forget who you are. It's a relief." I looked over at him.

His jaw tightened, and he was still looking at me with that inscrutable expression. Finally he sat down in the doorway and patted the step next to him. I straightened and made my way over, dropping beside him.

"It doesn't affect me the same way," he said finally. He sounded like he was going to say more, but changed his mind. I closed my eyes and rested my head against his arm, inhaling his comfortable scent. He was still tense, but I could tell he was softening.

"I just wanted to see," I yawned. "what it was like." I opened my eyes and glanced up at him, wondering if he knew I wasn't talking about drinking.

He didn't look at me, but he reached his arm around and started stroking my hair. This had the effect of making me very sleepy. We sat in silence for a moment. "Iceboy didn't?" He said gruffly, finally. "I find that very hard to believe."

"We broke up," He shifted slightly, but said nothing. "Ages ago, now. And I think he knows about me kissing John." Even though I didn't know that at all, I wanted to see his reaction. His hand stopped, but he still said nothing. "I didn't want too," I said, blabbering. "But I kind of did. But I didn't start it. And I didn't start it with Bobby either. And I just don't want my whole life to go by only being kissed by boys who are bored or boys who are lonely, or boys that only kiss you to mess with your head. I want to kiss boys that I like and I want to decide who that is. And for the first time, I can." I looked up at him and he looked down at me.

I wish I could remember what his face looked like, what his eyes were telling me, but I don't. They must have told me something, though, because that's when I kissed him.

It was awful, Keltie. I now understand how awful it must have been for you to kiss Ben. Because by awful I mean completely wonderful-until he pushed me away. I looked down at the ground, too completely humiliated to look him in the eyes. My own eyes were filling with tears and I didn't want him to see.

"Kid..." He said, and my heart seized up and I felt like I couldn't breathe. If he'd called me Rogue, or Marie or even 'bub' -anything but "kid"-I wouldn't have felt the complete and utter devastation as I did in that moment. I continued to stare at the ground, trying to come up with some way to make this better, to make it so it never happened.

"I'm drunk," I announced, matter-of-factly, before he could say anything else. I wasn't really, not anymore, but he didn't know that. I started giggling hysterically, and stood up, swaying precariously. Logan reached out an arm to steady me, but I was laughing to hard, and I fell against the wall. "Logan!" I said, as though I'd only just noticed he was there. "I'm drunk!" I said again, still giggling.

"Yes, you are." He said, and I think I saw relief spread across his face. "Come on," he said. "Let's take you home."

"I don't know where home is," I giggled. Then I leaned over and was sick behind a dumpster. When I'd finished I pulled a tissue out of my bag and wiped my mouth, still crouching on the ground. When I held out my hand, Logan hauled me up and passed me a stick of gum.

"Better?" He asked. I nodded. He took my arm, literally touching as little of me as possible, and lead me out onto the street. He hailed us a taxi and I got in, leaning my head against the window. I pretended to fall asleep.

John was up when Logan walked me through the hospital door. He was sitting in the only armchair, reading one of my library books. He took one look at me and shook his head.

"Scott called." He told Logan, who was helping me into bed. "Wants to know why his Blackberry is being answered by a Japanese woman."

"I'll call him back. If you leave this bed," he turned to me. "You'll spend the rest of your days just wishing a hangover was the worst of your problems." He walked out after that, and I put a pillow over my head.

Keltie, this is the worse I've ever felt in my life. I know it sounds dramatic, but at least when I put David into a coma and Magneto kidnapped me, I could tell myself it wasn't my fault. This is 100% completely my fault, and I've never felt so stupid. I just want to go back to a couple of days ago. The worst part is that Logan's been the most understanding of my situation up until now. He was always finding excuses to touch me, to hold my hand or brush my arm or something, without having to say anything about it. Of anyone, I think he understands the frustration of my mutation the most, and I completely misread it.

Well, that's not exactly true. I knew he didn't have those kinds of feelings for me. Which is part of the reason why our friendship is so wonderful. But now I've just gone and ruined it.

And I also know something else. The reason that I'm suddenly speaking Japanese, and why the alcohol wasn't affecting me, until it suddenly was.

It's because my powers are starting go out of control. Which means death probably isn't that far behind.

It's a sign of how mortified I feel right now that that thought brings me more comfort than fear.

Don't write back to me, okay? I couldn't stand your kindness, especially because I know that at this very moment you're questioning why you are friends with me in the first place. Just burn these letters and go on with your life.

Really, it's okay. I'll understand.

Rogue

Rogue,

We don't really know how to address this. Maybe you misread our earlier instructions?

You've gone and kissed three different boys in a matter of days. We told you to be a little more romantic, Rogue, not turn into a huge hussy.

This kind of behavior reflects badly on all our members. If it continues, we may have to ask you to leave.

Kindly,

The Young Romance Association

How are you feeling?

Like a Sentinel went to town on my head. Are you mad?

Mad you didn't take me with you.

I didn't really plan it.

It was pretty damn stupid.

Did he tell you?

Who, Logan? Yeah. He said he found you getting boozy in some dive bar a few blocks from here.

Is that all?

He didn't say it but I gathered that more happened. Really bad move, Ro.D. You don't have your mutation to protect you anymore,. You can't just go hit on random guys.

Who says I need protection?

If you can't lie down without holding on to the ground, you probably can't defend yourself against drunk frat boys. Just imagine what could have happened if you ran into a gang of dancing, finger-snapping street toughs!

Remember, part of defending yourself is not getting into a situation where you have to.

You sound like the Professor.

Thanks, I think.

I'm really embarrassed.

I can't do much about that. Did you at least get lucky?

I don't want to talk about it. Was Scott really mad?

I don't think Logan told him.

HE DIDN'T?

Keep it down. If Logan wakes up, he'll kill us both. I really don't want to be on the business end of those claws.

John? Can I ask you a question?

No, I did not have sexual relations with that woman.

What was it like? When you were gone.

I really don't want to talk about it.

Please? I need to understand.

John? I don't know what this is between us, this weird friendship-y thing that's happening. Trust me, if you told me three weeks ago that I'd be talking to you more than Bobby OR Logan I'd have laughed in your face. But there you have it. Bobby hates me and now Logan does too, and you're the only person I can talk to. I need to know. For my sanity.

Why would Logan hate you?

I don't want to talk about it.

Fine.

Fine.

Please tell me.

He talked about you sometimes.

Who?

Magneto? Why?

He said that if he hadn't had to kidnap you and turn you against the Brotherhood, you would have made a good addition to the team.

WHAT? No way.

Yeah. He's right.

No. No he's not. What the hell, John?

You've got the anger. You've got a powerful mutation, and it's the kind that people hate the most. The kind who look completely normal but have a deadly power. Humans react worst to you because you can kill without meaning to. Mutants hate you because you can take away the thing that makes them powerful, that separates them from humans. You can use their power against them. You're a threat to both sides, see?

Great. Good to know I'm so universally beloved.

The thing is...You've got the power, but you've actually mastered restraint. You don't like to use it. That's rare.

I don't have much of a choice.

But you do. And that's why he liked you.

Forgive me if that's not a comfort.

It was boring.

What?

Being there. Being an "evil minion". I thought I'd have more power, responsibilities. I wanted to really show off. But he just wanted foot-soldiers, people who wouldn't ask questions. In some ways, he was just like Xavier, with the restraint business. It was boring.

Why is it so important to you? Showing off?

I don't know. I wanted to be a big hero, go down in history as someone who changed things for mutants. I didn't see that happening with Xavier, and I thought it was his kindness that was the problem. And now I'm dying of this stupid mutant virus and I've lost my best friends and the only people in the world who care about me, and suddenly that kindness is the only thing keeping me alive. Clearly my plan has worked out really well.

Do you know how you got it? The virus?

No. But I know it wasn't an accident.

What do you mean?

Open your eyes, Rogue. It's not natural. Someone's created it to destroy mutants. Someone knew I'd join up with the Brotherhood eventually, and they knew I couldn't resist showing off my powers. Not like you. No, it stops with you because you don't use your powers on anyone.

Oh.

You know how you got it, right?

Yeah. I figured it out.

I'm sorry. I knew something was wrong but I didn't know how bad it was. I never would have thrown those fireballs if I'd known what would happen.

Yeah, you would have.

Well, I never imagined you'd have the guts to stop me. No offense.

It's okay. I'm a wimp. And when I'm not, it gets me into trouble.

What are you talking about?

Nothing. Did Logan just move?

I don't know.

Why is he even sleeping here?

You can't be trusted.

You have no idea.

Rogue,

Maybe don't look Logan in the eyes for the next few years? Follow his example?

Helpful suggestions at your service, Ltd.

Rogue,

You may have wondered why it's taken us so long to contact you, considering recent events.

We were too busy laughing. Never have we had such an amusing client! And despite your consistent displays of thick-headedness, you must know yourself how truly disastrous you have made this situation.

We couldn't be yours more gleefully,

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Rogue,

Is it safe to say that we are rather impressed? Underage drinking, reckless risk-taking-it's what being a teenager is all about! While your wanton behaviour leaves something to be desired, we really like the path that your recent actions have forged.

But don't become complacent now, Rogue! You are so close! We see you moping in your bed, reading your books, and we have to admit…it's quite hard to take you seriously when you've been wearing those track pants for three days straight now. It's getting a bit embarrassing for us.

Don't get cocky, Rogue. You still have a long way to go. But at this moment we are very pleased with your progress.

The Association of Teenagers

Rogue, it's me. Keltie.

You may be confused. You may be wondering how this doctor has a note from me. You may be wondering what else this doctor knows about you, if he has somehow intercepted our other letters (Don't panic! This is not the case!). You may, by now, have noticed the name of this doctor. You maybe have noticed that it sounds a little familiar?

Have you figured it out yet?

This doctor is my Dad, Dr. Adrian Matthews!

"How odd!" You're thinking. "What is Keltie's Dad doing standing in my Boston Massachusetts hospital room, when his medical practice is Salem Center, New York?"

WELL. Let me tell you a story.

It turns out I kind of forgot to mention the whole Legacy Virus thing to my Dad. I'm sorry, but I've been a little distracted lately! Which I will explain to you shortly, but first I have to explain something else.

So I was sitting in my living room, watching the news with my father. (This is a lie. My father was watching the news. I was going over blueprints for the schools heating and ventilation systems, but more about that later). All of a sudden, I start to hear some familiar words.

Words like "Legacy" and "Mutant" and "Epidemic". Words like "fatal" and "urgent" and "Boston". I look up.

"Hey," I said. "My friend's got that."

My Dad's head just about flew off his neck. Really. I very nearly had to scrape brain matter off the wallpaper, that's how quickly my Dad's head snapped when he heard that.

"Explain" He said, in his elaborate way.

So I did, a little shocked at his reaction.

Did you know that you're not the only one who has this virus? Did you know that the hospital you are staying at is currently one of the only hospitals on the Eastern Seaboard that is accepting mutants with your virus? Did you also know that before my father became a General Practitioner, he was trained in the area of outbreak control and epidemics?

(Yeah, I know I might have mentioned that earlier. But like I said: Other things on my mind—and I didn't know that this thing was at Outbreak level).

Anyway, it turns out that my father has been fielding a lot of calls lately, from people who are trying to figure out how to contain this virus. People who have been offering to fly him all over the world so he can speak at conferences and help more important people figure out a solution. In general he has been turning these down, because he has me and Emma to think about, and he cant just jet off to Geneva whenever he pleases.

But when I told him you were in Boston and they were treating you there, he made a few phone calls.

And then booked us a flight to Boston.

That's where I am right now. Boston. At a hotel just down the street.

It turns out the WHO has set up a conference at the University to discuss North American containment, and they are delighted to have my father's assistance.

And I am delighted to finally have a chance to meet you.

Only if you want to, of course! I understand if this is the very last thing you would want, and if you don't want to see me, just let my Dad know, and Emma and I will go shopping, or something, instead.

I really hope that's not the case though.

Send a reply back with my Dad, okay?

Love,

Keltie

Dear Keltie,

ARE YOU KIDDING ME! Of COURSE I want to see you! How soon can you get here?

Rogue

Rogue,

This is going to be a disaster. Keltie is going to take one look at you, and your dirty hair and completely disastrous life, and say two words: See ya!

Just watch.

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Rogue,

When was the last time you sent a letter to Kitty or Jubilee, huh? What about Logan? Don't you think it's time they heard from you? Don't you think it might be a good idea to try to work things out with him?

Maybe before you get too excited about meeting a girl you've barely known for 3 months, you might like to think about some of your other friendships, huh?

Sneeringly yours,

The Best Friends Club

P.S. I mean, if a Complete and Total Stranger knows about your kiss with Logan before your best friends do, something is seriously wrong

Rogue,

Please let us do something about your hair, first. How much can you do in five minutes?

Dye over the white? Give yourself a perm? A deep conditioning treatment?

Can you brush it?

We are wringing our hair combs anxiously,

The Manager,

International Department of Hairpieces, Toupees, and Wigs.

Relax,

Keltie will love you. You'll get along fabulously. Everything will be okay.

Deep, cleansing breathily,

The Take A Deep Breath and Calm Down Society

Well. I think that went better than any of us expected.

Colour us astonished.

The Association of Teenagers

In conjunction with

The Society of Beautiful People,

The Best Friends Club

And

The Take A Deep Breath And Calm Down Society

Keltie,

Was that not totally the weirdest thing ever?

And my "weirdest" I mean "most awesome"?

I can't believe you never told me how gorgeous you are. How in the world Ben decided to go for Leah or you is completely beyond me (I just Facebook creeped her on Logan's Blackberry-she looks like giraffe). I felt like a leper next to you in the waiting room.

But a very happy leper, because it was so nice to finally talk to you in person. And I'm so glad I got to explain the Logan thing to you while you were there, rather than having you read it. It made me feel so much better, seeing your reactions after each part of the story. The way you nodded along, like everything I did made total sense (even though I know it was totally deranged) did more for my nerves than you can understand.

And the way you introduced yourself to Logan!

"And you must be...Scott?" With your face dead serious! It makes me dissolve into giggles just thinking about it! Even John was impressed, and he is the king of deadpan.

And I'm so glad you could tell me all about what happened with Ben! I can't believe he actually apologized to you! (Not that it wasn't Completely Overdue) I can't believe that he didn't realize that you and Leah have basically stopped being friends, either! Boys are SO dumb sometimes.

It just occurred to me that our meeting may not have been as enjoyable for you. Maybe you were just being nice, and now that we've met, you're starting to think "hmm, not sure I should waste my time with this Rogue person."

I don't think that's what you're thinking. I really hope it's not. Because I had such a good time today. I feel like a whole new woman.

Love and hospital staredowns,

Rogue

Rogue,

Don't be silly! Of course I enjoyed meeting you! I more than enjoyed it! It practically made up for the last month and a half of crap that my life has been.

And what are you talking about, gorgeous? Have you looked in a mirror lately? Woman, if Logan isn't seriously suffering from a mad case of blue balls every time you walk out of a room, I'll eat my hat.

I just got a really cute new one this afternoon, as well. So you KNOW I'm serious.

It was so nice to talk to you too. And dude, of course I understand about the Logan situation. If I had received your letter before I left for Boston, I'm sure I would have felt the same way. I'm glad I made you feel better though.

Love and new friendships,

Keltie

P.S. Did you manage to convince him to let you and John come to the hotel to go swimming? I know he might be reluctant to let you out of the hospital again, but he's obviously welcome to come too. I'd like to see him in a pair of swim trunks (if you don't mind my saying so!)

Keltie,

Convincing him would be rather difficult, as he still refuses to be in a room alone with me.

But I'm working on it.

Rogue.

FOR ROGUE WHEN SHE WAKES UP! A LETTER FROM YOUR FRIEND KELTIE!

Rouge! I hope you read this letter before you start to freak out!

I'm writing this from beside your hospital bed. You look very peaceful and calm right now, and I am very relieved about this fact. I hope when you wake up you remain peaceful and calm and don't start asking questions until you read this letter.

It's just occurred to me that in a certain context it would be considered very creepy for me to watch you sleep. I'm watching you sleep because we've all just been through a Very Strange Ordeal, and the doctors said you probably won't remember anything. I don't trust anyone else to give it to you straight-hence, this letter.

So what happened was this: You somehow managed to convince John to convince Logan to take you to my hotel so that we could all go swimming in the hotel pool. Logan was really not impressed with this idea, I could tell. He insisted on waiting down in the hotel bar while we went upstairs to change. Emma said that when she went down to get him he was drinking whiskey and writing furiously on some cocktail napkins.

You borrowed a bathing suit from me, and even though I know this is not exactly relevant to the discussion, I just want to tell you that both Logan and John were not exactly unappreciative of how you looked in it. It certainly helps that your boobs are about two sizes bigger than mine (bitch! You probably could have mentioned in your letters that you've got a rockin' body-if we hang out again, you're wearing a muumuu, okay?).

So we went down the pool and Logan sat down and kept writing and ignored us. You tried to get a look at what he was writing but he yanked it away and got a little pissy about it. You looked kind of affronted, but completely cheered up as soon as we got into the water.

Since the hotel was pretty dead that night (the concierge was reading a magazine when we first came in), we had the pool to ourselves. And since there was no lifeguard, we took turns seeing who could do the biggest cannonballs into the deep end. Logan was not impressed, as you can imagine.

Then we were just swimming, splashing around when you decided to do some laps.

Emma and I watched you as you glided through the water like you were Lance Armstrong or something. Or is it Michael Phelps? Whatever. You looked like a boss. Logan even looked up from his napkins and watched too, and John sat on the side, flicking his lighter.

You reached the end of the pool and put your hands in the hair and yelled something. It sounded like a foreign language. Suddenly, the water got really cold, and a layer of frost appeared on the walls and the floors, and just as quickly melted, steam rising from the ground. The rails on the side of the pool and under the diving board started rattling. You went under. I watched, completely confused, as bubbles appeared on the surface and you started to sink. Logan was up in a flash and John's lighter clattered onto the ground. They were both at the other side of the pool before I could blink. Logan backed up, preparing to dive in after you, but John held out his arm.

"You can't."

"She's going to drown!" Emma screamed. I swam over to you as fast as I could, but John yelled: "Don't touch her!" He turned to Logan. "You can heal her. I can't."

He then proceeded to dive in after you. It seemed like he was underwater forever, and Emma was crying (I realize now that it was mostly because of Logan, whose claws came out, cause of the stress I guess) but he didn't move, his eyes glued to your blurry form. Finally, John broke the surface, but it was only for a moment before he started to sink. Logan reached in and grabbed his arm, managing to pull him out. John was grey, and veins were popping out all over his neck, but he never loosened his grip on you.

"Keltie!" Logan barked at me. "You know CPR?" I nodded, swimming as fast as I could to the side of the pool and hauling myself out. I knelt down beside you, but Logan yanked me away. "Don't touch her." I looked at him, confused, and he pointed at John. I scrambled over and looked at him, terrified at the colour his skin had turned and the veins that looked like they were pulsing all over his body. I started panicking for a moment.

My Dad insists that Emma and I take our CPR recerts every year, but at that moment the knowledge flew right out of my head. I looked up at Emma.

"I'll call 911," she said, but it sound more like she was asking me a question. I took a deep breath. I felt calmer, and I nodded.

"Tell them we have two people who are unconscious. Make sure to tell them they're mutants." No point calling for help if the paramedics didn't come prepared-or worse, refused treatment. Apparently it's happened before.

Emma ran out of the room and I looked down at John. I titled his head back and pulled his mouth open. He wasn't breathing. I didn't have face mask, I realized, but I had to make a decision. I decided, to hell with it, and gave him two breaths. Then I started compressions.

It was just as creepy as my CPR instructors always said it would be. I heard a gross cracking noise that sounded like the breaking of ribs, but I knew it was the cartilage between his lungs. I forced myself to keep going, to keep the compressions steady. Water bubbled up out of his mouth, and I rolled him towards me to get it out. He still wasn't breathing when I rolled him back.

I looked over at Logan, who had his hands on your face. He cursed when you didn't move. I stopped compressions to give John another two breaths, and then started again.

Logan never took his eyes off of you. I'm telling you, Rogue...he may have hurt your feelings, but you should have seen the way he was looking at you. It wasn't like his whole life was flashing before his eyes-it was like you were his whole life, and he was watching it slip away. I've never had anyone look at me like that. That man is in love with you. And when he leaned down to give you breaths-well, let's just say, I've certainly never been taught THAT method in my CPR classes.

I was giving John another two breaths when Emma came running back into the room. And she had the most beautiful thing I've ever seen: A portable AED machine.

"Take over compressions," I told her. She knelt down on John's other side, and started doing wonderfully even, deep compressions. I could have cried with relief. No one tells you how exhausting doing CPR is. I couldn't have been doing compressions for more than 3 minutes at this point, and my arms were already feeling the strain.

The concierge from the front desk was hovering around, looking terrified that her previously quiet night had taken a turn for the worse. I started opening up the defibrillator box. "Do you know First Aid?" I glanced up to meet her eyes. She nodded, but she looked so freaked out I didn't think she'd be able to help much.

"What's happening to him?" she yelled and pointed at Logan. Veins had started popping out all over his face, and I was so tempted to start crying, but forced myself to turn back to her.

"Go to the front to meet the paramedics. Show them in here. Okay?" I waited until she nodded and ran out.

I ripped the plastic backing off the pads. Emma had already wiped John's chest down with a towel, so I stuck the pads on the way the diagrams indicated, and connected them to the machine. I considered for a moment that perhaps you needed the machine more than John, but it was too late, and I figured Logan could take care of himself. I couldn't even bring myself to look over again.

The machine started beating. "Don't touch patient," it blared in a robotic voice. "Analyzing." Emma scrambled away and I watched as the machine kept beeping. It administered its shock, and then said: "Continue compressions." I looked at Emma, and she nodded and kept going.

I crawled over to you. Logan still had his mouth on yours, and veins were popping out over his hands and face. His eyes were wide open, terrified, but he would not let go. I could see colour creeping back into your face.

Blood started to gush from his knuckles, and he pulled his face away from yours, leaving his hands on your shoulders. He was starting to convulse and I wanted to pull him away.

The AED was giving another shock to John, and almost simultaneously, both your eyes popped open and you coughed up copious amounts of water. Emma started bawling in relief, but I watched in horror as Logan collapsed on top of you. I tried to pull him off (what is that guy MADE off? He's freaking heavy!) but I couldn't. That was when I pretty much lost it. I kept pushing and pulling him, but it was too much weight for me to handle. I knew you couldn't breathe and I was Freaking. Right. Out.

Of course, that was when the paramedics came in. One of them came over and helped me pull Logan off of you, and another wrapped John in a blanket. They made me sit down in the prone position and gave me a blanket and asked me if I was okay. Then they loaded both you and John onto stretchers (don't worry, I made sure they were wearing gloves so they didn't get hurt) and wheeled you out to the ambulance. Logan was still having what looked like a seizure, and since they'd only brought two stretchers, they put a towel under his head and basically had to wait until he'd stopped. Then they loaded all of us into an ambulance and took us back to the hospital.

I tried to answer their questions as best as I could, but I must have been in shock or something. I couldn't stop shivering, and my teeth were chattering so hard I couldn't speak. Emma wouldn't stop crying. I managed to tell them my Dad's cell phone number, but I guess they couldn't get a hold of him because so far I haven't seen him.

Oh, wait. There he is. He doesn't look happy.

He's out in the hallway yelling at someone. Hold on while I move closer and try to hear better.

He's speaking with a beautiful black woman with the most amazing white hair I've ever seen. They're standing right outside your room. She's nodding understandably as he keeps on yelling, and Emma is gripping his hand.

Okay, it looks like he's starting to calm down. She's saying something about how she understands, and that she's going to have a very serious talk with Logan.

Huh. She also just told him that he should be very proud of both his daughters. She said we both reacted well under pressure and if it hadn't been for our quick thinking, both you and John could be dead. She told him we were heroes, but she said it in a funny way, almost like she knew I was listening.

Well. I don't know about heroes...

Oh, Dad just poked his head in here and told me he was going to take Emma back to the hotel. He doesn't even look angry any more. I told him I'd really like to stay here with you, which he wasn't happy about, but the doctor even told him he'd like to keep me in here overnight for observation anyway. They want to keep Emma too, but she won't let go of my Dad's hand.

Eventually he relented, and now I'm checked into the room right across the hall from you. These hospital beds are seriously not comfortable.

From here, I can hear almost everything that's going on. I can hear John talking to that woman, explaining what happened. I can hear her yelling at Logan. She said that she can't believe he could have been so stupid to try and heal you himself. He's shouting back, and a bunch of nurses came in and told them to shut up.

They're speaking quietly now, but I can still feel the undercurrent of tension emanating from that room. The woman must be Storm, I assume? She certainly seems to live up to her nickname. She's telling Logan it was completely irresponsible to try and heal Rogue while leaving Emma and I to deal with John.

"Well, the kid did alright, didn't she?" he said. He's arguing with her, but I can tell he knows she's right. In my First Aid classes, they always talk about someone appointing themselves as a leader to manage the scene, and how you're supposed keep yourself safe before rescuing others. Logan was the oldest and most experienced, so I guess it was pretty dumb of him to knock himself unconscious.

But if he hadn't, you'd probably be dead. So I don't know how strong Storm's argument is.

Oh, she just came in here and introduced herself. She thanked me profusely for doing what I did. It was the most sincere thank you I've ever received, and I'm pretty sure my face is still burning. She also said if I ever needed any help from Charles Xavier, I just needed to let you know and help would be on its way.

It was SO embarrassing.

But also, you know. Nice, in a way.

Anyway, I asked Ororo if she could give you this letter, because I'm so exhausted I'm about to pass out. I don't know how you do it, Rogue. It's all so dramatic-hot men trying to save you, speaking foreign languages-I've been part of it all for two days and I'm already overwhelmed. Anyway, I hope you don't freak out too much when you read this. Hopefully I'll see you in the morning and you'll feel better.

Love and hospital jello,

Keltie

Dear Keltie,

John gave me your letter when I woke up. I thought it was a joke at first, until I got to the part about you saving John's life and I realized you wouldn't make that up.

I can't believe you did that. You are so, so, so brave. I don't think I could have done what you did, and to for someone you barely even knew! You're a hero, Keltie Matthews. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I hope John thanked you profoundly.

I just asked him and he told me that in fact, he has not thanked you but he would very much like to. He also told me that the word is profusely, not profoundly. WHATEVER JOHN. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT. STOP READING OVER MY SHOULDER.

He also said something entirely inappropriate about HOW he would like to thank you, but I won't write it here because just hearing it made me blush and I can't imagine you would want to even know, let alone participate in, what he has in mind. Because you like that Jack guy, right?

Forgive me if you're thinking: "What? Jack? He's just my friend."

But come on, admit it, Keltie. You know he's not just your friend.

Feel free to thank me any time for bringing this obviousness to your attention.

John just said: "Who the hell names their kid Jack?"

I told him Jack is generally a derisiveness of John, and he scowled and told me the word is "derivative." WHATEVER. I'VE JUST BEEN THROUGH A NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCE, JOHNNY. VOCABULARY IS NOT AT THE FOREMOST OF MY MIND.

(He just said: "It's fore-oh, never mind!")

I'm actually in a really good mood right now. Why, you ask? Well, because I'm alive. And so is John. And you know what? I got to meet you and you are just as wonderful as you are in your letters-in fact, even more so. And even though I don't believe what you wrote in your letter, about how Logan was looking at me all googly eyed or whatever, it still made me immensely happy that the guy still cares enough to save my life. Again.

I'm also feeling 100 times better than I did yesterday. It's probably just the exhilaration of hovering near the edge of death, but I don't care. My skin is off again-John let me touch him for a second just to check, and it's definitely off. There are no voices. I can't speak Japanese. Everything seems to be back to (relative) normal.

I have to go, because some doctors are here to check on me, but I wanted to write this letter and get it to you before you leave Boston. I wanted to tell you that you are amazing and brave and you know what I just realized? I don't need to write this letter. I can pick up the phone and call you. Which is exactly what I'm going to do after this check up.

Love and cherry lifesavers,

Rogue

Dear Rogue,

Based on your previous song choices, we recommend:

"Lust For Life" by Iggy Pop

"Life is Beautiful" by Vega 4

We think you'll agree this song is a useful addition to your iTunes library.

Sincerely,

Apple iTunes Genius Suggestions,

In association with

The We Heart Rainbows, Unicorns and Sparkles Club

Rogue,

Right now your bubble is floating high up the sky, bobbing merrily past the birds and the clouds and the airplanes and precipitation.

It's full of air, full of life, full of anticipation for the future. Your bubble has never looked brighter.

But you know what happens to bubbles, don't you Rogue? They float too high, they get in the way of a 747, or they get snarled in the tree branches.

To put in words you'll understand: They burst.

We give your bubble an estimated life span of 37.8 seconds.

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Rogue,

We've been in contact with the Memory Trigger Society, and while their data from Saturday night is sketchy and inconsistent at best, they have managed to retrieve some information that we felt it was crucial to remind you of.

When you were passed out on the floor, your skin turned itself on, and Logan was able to save you, right? When you absorbed his healing power, you also absorbed some of his memories, right? While those memories are gone now, or at least locked away in some recess of your adorable striped head, for a few brief seconds-after you came back to life but before you threw up all over that cute EMT guy-you were fully aware of the thoughts you'd absorbed...right?

Do you remember that, Rogue? Do you remember how the Logan you had just absorbed was WAY different than the Logan you absorbed at Liberty Island? Do you remember a particular lack of a certain redhead in his thoughts, and the prevalence of a certain brunette? Do you remember seeing that certain brunette in a number of situations you're quite sure you never participated in?

Of course you do. It was what caused you to vomit over that EMT guy.

We can barely contain our excitement over these developments.

Gleefully yours,

The Young Romance Society

Rogue,

I'm a little worried, because even though your letter (which was delivered to me right before we left Boston, so I had something to read on the plane) said that you would call, I haven't talked to you since Saturday. Do you have the right phone number? 518-555-2329?

I'm back in boring old Westchester again, and today I went into rehearsal fully expecting Jack to be pissed about the fact that I had ditched on Friday. But he just greeted me with a smile and a hug and asked me how my grandmother was doing.

"Huh?" I said, eloquently, totally forgetting that when I left Ben on Thursday I told him I was going to visit my grandmother. At the time, it seemed like a better plan than "I'm going to go visit my mutant best friend, who is possibly dying as the result of a bioweapon that evil geniuses developed to wipe out the species."

I guess he told Jack. About my grandmother, I mean. Not the other stuff.

And I realized something. Not because of what you wrote in your letter, about me liking Jack as more than a friend (though you're right, I realized-I kind of do), but because of the smile on Jack's face when I sat down and propped my legs up beside him. The thing is, I think Jack likes me as more than a friend, too.

This is a lot more information than I was prepared to take in on Monday, and I don't quite know what to do with it.

Because the weird thing is, I also wouldn't mind knowing what, exactly, your friend John had in mind as a way of thanking me. I mean, the guy had really soft lips, for an evil minion.

So I guess what I realized is that maybe I'm not as hung up on Ben as I thought I was. He came up to me to give me a hug before class today, and I felt...very little. Sadness, I guess, just because I know that even though he's apologized, things aren't really going to be able to go back to the way they were before. How could they? I used to think we were like a family, and nothing could separate us. But obviously, that's not true, and now that I've had time to accept it, I've realized…maybe that's okay. I don't know. I'm still kind of confused about it, so I'll have to get back to you on that one.

And also I realized that I really liked being a hero. Seriously, the whole way home my Dad was telling Emma and I how proud he was of us (of course, this was in between bitching about the irresponsibility of the supposed educator in charge of our well being and a lot of gloating that he knew we'd be grateful for those CPR courses one day). I felt kind of glow-y and light all Sunday and even today, and it turns out that's a way better feeling than being mopey and sad. Who knew?

So I'm thinking maybe I should try and get that feeling to happen all the time, or at least more often, and go to school to become a paramedic, or something. Or, I don't know, maybe even a doctor. I'm sure that being a doctor isn't ALL about your grades or whether or not you can get the whole school to break out into a choreographed dance during the national anthem. I'm sure they also want people that have experience actually saving lives.

Anyway, it's just an idea.

Enough about me. How are you feeling? Have you seen Logan since I left? Did he profess his undying love for you? Any more news on this hypothetical antidote to the virus? (I forgot to tell you-my Dad has been contacting colleagues of his from all around the world to see if anyone a) has anymore information, or b) would be interested in developing an antidote. Clearly guilt can do good things for people.)

Write me back! Or call me.

Love and sequined throw pillows,

Keltie

Keltie,

Have you ever been outside in the cold for so long that you stop feeling it? And you can almost convince yourself that if you just stay out for a little longer, you'll stop feeling everything?

I don't know if I'll ever stop feeling as bad as I do right now. No matter how cold I get.

One day ago, everything was perfect. Or as close to perfect as I could reasonably imagine. Why couldn't it have stayed that way? Why does everything have to change right when I'm starting to figure it out?

Rogue

Rogue,

We're th-th-thinking warmth. We're thinking things that are HOT. We're th-th-thinking log f-fires, h-hot choc-cocolate, mittens, b-b-blankets, steam baths, h-h-hot tubs, cuddles, tropical islands-s, the equator, s-s-solar flares, chicken soup, volcanic magma, goose-down duvets, hot sp-springs, candelabras, a curry from that shop down the street, deep fryers, L-l-logan with his shirt off, and The Hospital.

Don't any of those warm things sound more preferable to freezing your ass on this park bench?

S-s-sincerely,

Sensible Suggestions at Your Service

In conjunction with

Synonyms Synonymous

Rogue,

I know you're upset, but if you leave this room again without my explicit permission, I will handcuff you to my side until we get back to Westchester.

Truly,

Ororo

P.s. A letter arrived while you were being examined for frostbite. It's from your pen-pal. I left it in the bedside table.

Rogue,

What the hell is going on? What's wrong? Are you okay? Did something happen to John? Why are you outside in the cold feeling bad?

I'm freaking out, Rogue, and you STILL haven't called me. Please let me know that everything is okay.

Love,

Keltie

Keltie,

I'm sorry if I made you worry. I really didn't mean to, but then I didn't mean for any of this to happen and I still manage to hurt everyone around me. It's like my mutation has evolved so that I now emanate pain and destruction to the people I love.

I'm sorry, I'm not even making sense right now. It's 3 o'clock in the morning and the hospital ward is completely silent. I can't sleep. I feel like there is a huge rock on my chest and I have to work extra hard just to breathe normally. Every time I'm about to fall asleep, I imagine the rock getting heavier and suffocating me in my sleep, and I wake myself up because I have to start gasping huge gulps of air.

Okay. I'll tell you what happened.

Two days ago, everything was perfect. Or as close to perfect as I could reasonably expect.

The doctors came in to talk to me. They'd run some tests while I was passed out, and they came to tell me the results. Ororo and Hank were there too, and they both looked grim. John grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

Then the doctors told me the most amazing thing. They told me that I no longer had the Legacy Virus.

I didn't understand at first. I thought maybe they meant I had moved on to a whole new stage of the virus, one in which I felt completely normal but could spiral out of control at any second. I wriggled my hand out of John's grasp, just to make sure.

But no, that wasn't it. It turned out I really was cured. Not only did I feel completely better, I was completely better. I started laughing hysterically.

"Did y'all just make a mistake or something?" I asked, when I could catch my breath.

"Rogue," Ororo said in her soft voice. "When Logan touched you, he passed on his healing power. His mutation eliminated the virus from your system."

"Well, that's great," I said. Then I stopped. "But if I don't have the virus anymore, why is my mutation not back on?"

For a second, I thought they were going to tell me that I was no longer a mutant. I thought that might be why they looked so grim. I didn't really mind. I mean, it's cool to think that I have special powers, but if it was between being healthy/touchable and not healthy/an X-Man, there wasn't really much of a competition.

Actually, the real reason was even better. Hank had spoken to the Professor, who sent me a letter explaining why he believed I suddenly had control. I'm including it here.

Dearest Rogue,

You are no doubt confused, if not elated, that your mutation appears to be dormant. I've spent some time thinking about it, and I believe the reason is this:

The first time you absorbed someone, you not only absorbed their life force, but their thoughts and memories as well. For someone as young as yourself, this onslaught of new information was an overload that your mind attempted to manage through containment. In other words, in order to maintain your sanity and sense of self, your mind created barriers between yourself and the personalities that you absorbed.

I believe it was this containment that prevented you from being able to turn your powers on and off, as many of our kind can.

Once, however, the Legacy Virus latched onto the gene that controlled your mutation and subdued it, the barrier, being no longer necessary, was removed. This allowed the rest of your brain access to the area that can control when and to what extent you absorb someone.

It is my belief that this control is permanent. However, I might suggest that you exercise some caution ( as I'm sure you already intend to) in the coming weeks, until we can examine the situation further.

Yours Truly,

Professor Xavier

Confused? Elated? The way I was feeling was so much more than that. It was like someone had told me I won the lottery, my dream home, and my own personal genie. It was only everything I'd prayed for since I was 16.

I wanted to find Logan and grab him and kiss him, and not listen if his goddamn conscience told him to push me away. I'd use restraints if I had too. There would be no other way to express how truly grateful I was that he'd saved my life.

But that was when I noticed that everyone was still silent and grim. And I realized I hadn't seen Logan since the night before.

No one spoke when I asked where he was. They just looked at each other awkwardly like "How awful. She doesn't understand."

"Where's Logan?" I asked again, a ribbon of hysteria creeping into my voice.

Finally Ororo told me why he wasn't with them.

It's because he was down the hall in his own hospital room.

Because he was dying.

When Logan touched me, he made me better. But it seems that just like I caught the virus when I used my power on John, Logan infected himself when he touched me.

And now the person I care about more than anyone in the world is lying in a bed at Boston University Hospital, probably dying from a disease I gave him.

I can finally touch because of Logan, and I don't even care-because the only person I care about touching is him.

God has a cruel sense of humour.

After the doctors left, John and I sat on the floor, our backs against my bed. I hugged my knees to my chest and stared at the floor. John sat close enough so that our shoulders were touching, but I barely registered his presence.

"Rogue," he said. I didn't look up, mesmerized by the way the grey flecks in the floor quivered through my watery gaze. "Rogue. I know you're upset, but you're healthy. You're alive. That's still a good thing."

I didn't speak at first. I couldn't. Because what I wanted to say, but couldn't, was that there was no point in being alive if Logan wasn't.

Because even in that state, I dimly recognized that I had more to live for than just Logan. I had friends and a home and I'm sure, somewhere down a foggy, feebly-lit road, a future.

And I had just remembered something else. I opened my mouth to speak, but it took a couple of tries before I was able to squeeze words past the lump in my throat.

"You're still sick."

He nodded. The hard glint in his eyes told me that he hadn't forgotten, even though I had.

"Other people are going to get sick." He didn't speak, didn't move, but his eyes acknowledged this fact. "Someone created this virus to hurt mutants. If they can create it, they can modify it. They can put it in the water supply, or make it airborne. Other mutants will die."

I wasn't saying anything he hadn't thought of already. I could tell by the way his bottom lip tightened.

"I could even get it again." His head flew back a little at that, and I could tell that the thought hadn't occurred to him. "There might be no stopping it."

I started crying then, and I pressed my face into my knees and let the tears roll down my legs. John sat there, awkwardly patting my head. As I started crying harder, though, he pulled me closer to him and put his arms around me.

"He's going to die, isn't he?" I wailed, and my shoulders shook. I was getting snot all over John's shirt and I didn't even care. I felt like my whole body was breaking apart.

"Shh," he said. "No one is going to die." That only made me cry harder, because there was no way he could know. And really, he should have been the one crying, not me. He was handling his imminent death way better than I ever had. Then again, his method was probably similar to mine: Denial.

Finally, I calmed down enough to grab a tissue, and clean up what I could of my face. John's shirt was pretty much done for, but I handed him a tissue anyway. He crumpled it in his fist. I slowly got to my feet.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to see him," I tried to run my hands through my hair. It was no use-I hadn't brushed it since the pool incident, so you can imagine the snarls I was dealing with. I tied it back the best I could.

"You look like shit," John told me, climbing back onto his bed.

For some reason this made me smile. "Thanks."

"Want me to come with you?"

I shook my head. I walked down the hall until I found Logan's room. I knocked quietly and then stuck my head in when there was no response, terrified by what I might see. I let out a noise-half gasp, half laugh-when I saw that the bed was empty.

"Lookin' for me, kid?"

I whirled around and came face to face with Logan's chest. It was still a magnificent chest, I must say. I was happy to see that he was wearing a black t-shirt and grey track pants-I don't know why, but I just felt like this was a sign that all hope was not lost.

Also, I honestly don't know how I could have kept a straight face with Logan in a hospital gown.

He motioned for me to enter the room, and I took a seat beside the bed. He stretched out on top of it, more like he had decided to lounge around, and this room was the most convenient place for it. I almost convinced myself that the doctors had made a mistake and everything was fine-until I saw the bandages on his hands.

He followed my gaze. "I guess they told you, eh?"

I picked up one of his hands in my own. It was heavy as always, the adamantium weighing down his bones. I knew it was twisted, but I secretly thanked Stryker, sick bastard that his was, for coating him in the stuff. Genetic viruses aside, Logan was still virtually indestructible.

I gently peeled one of the bandages back, revealing two bloody knuckles. Self-consciously, Logan drew his hand away. "Don't wanna hurt you," he said gruffly. "They've been comin' out with no warning." I felt my eyes fill with tears.

"Don't do that, kid." His eyes fell on my bare hands and arms. "I talked to Chuck. Heard you finally got some control. Good for you."

I snorted. "I had nothing to do with it, and it's costing you your life."

He raised his eyebrow. "It's not...Let's talk about somethin' else. You feelin' okay?"

I didn't know how to answer that, so I shrugged. Medically, I was fine. As for everything else...

"Think you'll still want to swim as much when you get home?"

This time I did let out a little laugh that didn't quite reach my cheekbones. "I don't know. Probably not."

"Everytime I see you, you're either swimmin', about to go swimmin' or comin' back from the pool'."

I shrugged. "I really like being in the water."

"How come?"

I didn't know how we could be talking about this when there were so many more important things to talk about. But I decided to humour him, mostly because I didn't know what else I could do. "I don't know. I guess...I guess I've always felt so capable in the water. So free to move. My Mama always said swimming is the closest thing humans will ever get to flying. So I guess I like that."

He quirked his lips. "Flyin', huh?"

"Yeah," I smiled, playfully nudging his arm. "I know how you feel about it."

"Well, swimmin' or flyin', you seem to have a knack for it." I blushed at the unexpected compliment.

"Storm thinks I should learn how to fly the jet," I told him. "Properly, I mean."

"You should."

"Why?"

"It's a good skill to have."

"I'd rather learn how to ride your bike."

I cursed myself as I realized the implication of what I'd said, and almost immediately there was a change in his demeanor, a shift in the air that indicated I'd gone too far. I bit my lip and looked down. The memory of the humiliation from the other night rushed back, and my cheeks started burning.

Suddenly there was sound of grinding metal on metal, and his claws ripped through the bandages on his knuckles. Logan grimaced, his face twisted in pain. It was strange-I've seen his claws come out a hundred times, but other than that first night I met him, I never considered the pain he must go through every time. This time, however, the claws didn't slice through the skin neatly and quickly. They broke through the skin slowly, ripping through wounds that had just started to scab. It was bizarre to see them in this context. No immediate danger; no training modules, just Logan and I, sitting in this nondescript hospital room.

"Sonuvabitch" he cursed, through gritted teeth. "Sorry, kid." My eyes must have been wide, and I could feel the blood draining from my face.

"Why is it happening so fast?" I asked. "It took months for my powers to start malfunctioning like that."

"Different rates for different mutants, I guess. Without the healin', I've got the immune system of someone at least twice my physical age."

I looked at his face in shock. With closer inspection, he looked as though he'd aged in the last day and a half. He looked almost...ashamed to be showing me this, his disintegration into someone vulnerable and capable of pain. I swallowed, trying to rearrange my features to hide my horror.

"How is this happening?" I whispered. "How could someone create something like this?"

"A lot of desperate people out there." He tried to keep his voice level as the claws slid slowly back into his skin. I kept my eyes on his face so I didn't have to watch.

Desperation was an emotion I was becoming very familiar with. I took a deep breath. "I'll see you later."

"Where are you goin'?" I didn't answer. I was tripping over my own feet in my hurry to leave the room.

"Rogue!" he called after me. It was the first time in a while he'd called me anything but 'kid'. "This isn't your fault."

I was already halfway down the hallway, looking for the exit. Because the problem is, I know Logan is wrong.

This is completely and totally, 100% my fault.

I don't really remember how long I sat in the Commons for. I know it was a stupid thing to do, and I could have ended up with pneumonia or frostbite or Lord knows what else. But at that moment, I didn't care. I just kept seeing it in my mind, the way the metal tore through his skin.

The memories aren't as clear as they were before I got control over them, but I knew that the one thing Logan hated more than anything was not having control over his own body. I just sat there and cried. I cried for him and I cried for John but mostly I cried for myself, because I'm pathetic and selfish like that.

More than a few people cast me strange looks, and a couple women even asked if I needed help. I just waved them away. Finally, a police officer came over and told me I couldn't keep sitting there. He asked me if he could take me somewhere and I asked him to give me a ride to the hospital. He was pretty close to bringing me to the mental hospital, I'm sure, but he decided to humour me, and the receiving nurse confirmed that I was indeed a patient.

I got seriously reamed out by Ororo once I got back. She made me feel really guilty, like I didn't already feel shitty enough. She also told me that she was taking me back to school tomorrow.

"Absolutely not." I told her.

"Rogue," she told me, as patiently as her exhaustion and worry would allow. "This is not a debate. Scott needs me back at school. You no longer need medical attention. Hank can worry about John and Logan, but you need to get back home."

Does she not understand that it won't be a home if Logan never comes back? That I wont be able to live with myself if he and John die and I'm not there? If I do nothing to stop it?

I don't know what to do, Keltie. Ororo is watching me like a hawk, but even if I could get away from her, where would I go? What would I do?

I'm so lost and confused.

-Rogue.

Rogue,

You know, we were going to write you a letter telling you how much worse things are going to get.

But we're pretty sure you already know that.

Just for good measure though...

You know all of this is your fault. Right?

Cheers,

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

JOHN! LOOK AT THIS NOTE! BOUNCING OFF YOUR HEAD!

Oh, and also:

WAKE UP!

Jesus Christ, WHAT?

Don't say that.

What? JESUS CHRIST?

You know it bugs me.

It bugs you when I say JESUS CHRIST? Even if I'm actually referring to JESUS CHRIST, your (supposed) Lord and Saviour?

Yes.

That's rich, coming from a woman whose best friends say "Omigod!" More than anyone else on the planet.

Do you want me to hit you?

Not really, but only because I'm a good friend. If Ororo hears you you'll be dead meat.

I don't give a damn about Ororo.

So you'll say damn but I can't-you know what? Never mind. Did you wake me up from my peaceful slumber for a reason?

Peaceful my ass. You were snoring. Ash was coming out of your nose.

Yeah, you know, anytime you want to do my laundry to get your snot out of my shirt, you're welcome to...

I was just thinking. Logan's healing cured me from the virus, right? The virus was attached to my x-gene, but since technically his mutation isn't in my genes, the virus couldn't attack it. That's why I'm better...

Okay...

So, I'm just thinking about that lecture Jean gave about how no two mutations are exactly alike, and even mutants that have similar powers have a different X-gene composition.

You pay way too much attention in class.

John. Think about it. There have to be other mutants who can heal themselves.

Yes. I believe your furry friend Sabertooth was one of them.

So what if scientists could find a way to isolate that gene, and use it to cure other mutants?

John?

I'm thinking.

That's what I smell burning.

Okay, even if it was possible, which I highly doubt, it would still take years and years before something like that could be approved for widespread use. Half the mutant population will be dead by then.

Rogue? What's wrong?

Are you crying?

Shit, I'm sorry.

He's NOT going to die, okay? I won't let it happen.

What are you proposing?

I don't know yet. We need to speak to someone who actually knows what they're talking about.

To: Moira MacTaggert (MIGRC)

From: Rogue (Xaviers School)

Hi, Dr. MacTaggert, it's us. Rogue and John. From Xavier's School? We're the ones who were dying from that horrible disease you happen to be researching.

Yeah, that one!

How are you?

The reason we are sending you this e-mail was because, well, we don't know if you've heard, but Rogue is no longer sick and it's because she absorbed another mutant's powers. A mutant who has healing powers. Unfortunately, now that mutant is sick (you might remember Logan? Big, scary looking guy? Piercing hazel eyes? Abs to die for?). And John is still sick.

ANYWAY. We were just wondering if there was some way to isolate mutations and somehow...we don't know...replicate them? So that another mutant could use them temporarily?

We don't know if this helps you at ALL, but we actually know of one such mutant that could serve this purpose. Perhaps you've heard of Victor Creed? He's currently enjoying a leisurely holiday at Rikers Island Correctional Facility, but we happen to think he would make the PERFECT candidate for radical experimentation. The more painful, the better!

Please get back to us as soon as possible. Time is of the essence.

Whatever that means.

Sincerely,

Rogue D'Ancanto and John Allardyce

To: Rogue (Xaviers School)

From: (Moira MacTaggert (MIGRC)

Hello, Rogue and John,

Of course I remember you two. In fact, when I returned to work, I asked my research staff if they wouldn't mind referring to me as "MacTwizzle". They're having some difficulty adjusting to it!

Just a question: How are you two getting access to the internet?

You know what…Don't tell me.

I'm not supposed to be telling you any of this. Professor Xavier believes it would be better if you didn't know, but I'm afraid I disagree. I've never felt that dishonesty was a good policy when it came to treating patients.

The truth is that we are working on a cure in our labs right now. Unfortunately we have hit some setbacks.

You are not the first to suggest the idea of using another mutant's genes to attack the virus. The problem we found was that any time we did this, the effect was only temporary. In your case, Rogue, the healing power is adopted as a function of your mutation-as a defence mechanism. For most mutants, however, this was not the case. In most of our test subjects, this antidote only prolonged life-it did not save it.

We have come up with another version of this antidote that is more promising, however, it's ethical implications are more complicated. Essentially, in order for it to work, the antidote neutralizes the effects of the virus. For this to work, a human needs to serve as a host for the virus and the antidote. In our early experience, this results in an almost 100% death rate for the host. I'm sure you can see how we might have some trouble getting such a process approved by the WHO and the FDA.

I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this. I hope I've made the right decision, and that I can trust you both not to do something impetuous. Of course, you understand that this information must remain confidential.

Best Regards,

Moira

"Evolution is not a force but a process. Not a cause but a law." -John Morely

This email originates from the Muir Island Genetic Research Centre Email System. Any distribution, use or copying of this e-mail or the information it contains by other than the intended recipient(s) is unauthorized. If you are not the intended recipient, please notify me at the telephone number shown above or by return e-mail and delete this communication and any copy immediately. Thank you.

Dear Rogue,

We don't think we need to tell you this.

You already know what to do.

Godspeed, little striped one.

The Society of Mutants Who Can't Be Superheroes (but could if they just tried)

To: (Moira MacTaggert (MIGRC)

From: Rogue (Xaviers School)

MacTwizzle! We're so touched you remember.

Thanks for the info. We just wanted to be absolutely positive that there was nothing more we can do. We haven't given up hope or resigned ourselves to our fates, but we acknowledge at this point that it would be best for us to leave it to the professionals. We'll keep quiet, make no fuss, and wait patiently for news. Just to reiterate: Absolutely no death defying rescue missions for us! And of course...no reason to tell The Professor we sent you this e-mail!

Hypothetically, though...

Does the person who hosts the antidote have to have the virus as well?

Thanks!

Rogue and John.

Rogue,

Remember a week ago when you and John were enemies, and then you kinda weren't any more?

Remember three days ago when John was the one who kept talking to you even though Logan was furious? And gave you water and aspirin because you were hungover, even when Logan stomped around extra loudly to punish you?

Remember two days ago when you and John realized you both could sing the entirety of the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song, much to Logan's chagrin and the delight of the overnight staff?

Remember one day ago when John almost died trying to save your life in the pool?

Are you really going to let him risk his life for you?

Sincerely,

The Best Friend's Club

Rogue,

May we dare to inquire what you are doing? We are somewhat concerned that you have lost your mind.

We observe you standing in the middle of the Airport Gap, purusing their underwear table.

Look over at John, your former nemesis. See him standing in the clearance section, staring at those jeans like he's in a trance, Rogue? See how he's having trouble standing up straight? Do you really think having him along is going to help you at all? What happens if he gets worse? What happens if his powers go out of control? How do you know he's not going to turn on you like he did before?

While we're at it, let's discuss your plan of action.

What that, Rogue? You don't have one?

We're unsure how much longer we can continue correspondence with you before we self-combust ourselves.

Reality Check, inc.

Rogue,

At the start of our correspondence, we told you to be a little more rebellious. A little less high strung. We were imagining spontaneous road trips, trysts in the words, or perhaps a drunken party or two.

Skipping out of the hospital to fly half-way across the world with the intention to serve as a neutralizing agent for what basically amounts to the world's most discriminatory bioweapon? Not exactly what we had in mind.

Admittedly, it was pretty cool how John managed to get a hold of those black market passports. And the way you flirted with that airline agent to get a free upgrade to first class, after economy was sold out? That was impressive, and if we may say so, a little frightening.

But Rogue, you can stop now. You've skipped right through teenage delinquency and are hurtling into "adult felony" territory. It is no longer in the best interests of our Association to be identified, associated, or affiliated with you.

Please destroy any previous records of correspondence. When the Feds haul you in, no trace of our existence should be found on your person.

Disconcertedly yours,

The Association of Teenagers

To: Keltie Matthews (Westchester High)

From: Rogue (Xaviers School)

Keltie,

This is it. This is what I've been training for the last year and a half. The mission that's going to determine the fate of my friends, and possibly mutant or mankind.

John and I are going to find the cure for the Legacy Virus. One of us is going to take the antidote so that no other mutants can be subjected to it.

I know it sounds crazy. Believe me, I know. And I can't even say that I've fully thought this through. I just know that I can't sit around and watch my friends die. I have to do something.

I'm writing this to you on Logan's Blackberry. I stole it before I left, but it has a GPS tracking chip in it. I'm turning it off so that no one can follow us. You won't be able to e-mail me.

Keltie, I'm hoping that by the time we get there, we'll be able to figure out a way to activate the antidote without using one of us as the host, but if we don't, and I never see you again, there are a couple things you should know.

1) You are AMAZING. Seriously. I could not have gotten through these last few months without you, and I think you are one of the funniest, clever, and brave people I've ever met.

2) You are too hard on yourself. I know better than anybody what that's like, so take it from me that you should go easy on yourself.

3) Leah is an idiot, and doesn't deserve a tenth of you as her friend.

4) If this somehow works, and John makes it back alive, I think you should go out with him. He's a good guy, it turns out. Confused and lost, but then, who isn't?

5) That is, only if things don't work out with Jack.

Would you be able to also do me a favour and tell Logan some of what I told you? About how I felt? I'm writing him a letter right now, but if for some reason he never gets it, I want him to know how much he meant to me. You can show him my letters if you want.

I'm really scared Keltie. But I think I'm doing the right thing.

Thanks for being my friend.

Love,

Rogue

Dear Logan,

You're going to kill me.

I know you're going to kill me. If I make it out of this alive, I mean.

Strangely, I'm not scared of dying. I feel like I've had enough time in the last two weeks to contemplate my own mortality, and I've come to terms with it. Mutants tend to have a shorter shelf life than humans, and X-Men even less, so it's not like I expected to live to a ripe old age.

Still, I can't lie. I didn't expect to die before telling you how I felt. I mean, really telling you, not attempting to drunkenly jump you.

Sorry, again, about that.

I love you. God, it's weird to write those words. Look at them, just sitting there, plain as day. They look so…free. Rather than tramped down and buried underneath my dirty socks, which is usually where I try to keep those kinds of feelings.

You're totally going to kill me, aren't you? When you find out what I've done. What we've done.

Do you remember that day on the train? I asked you what to do, and you said "I think you should follow your instincts."

I've always been one to second guess myself. When I look back to the day we met, my stomach twists when I think about how easily I trusted such a perfect stranger-especially one as openly dangerous and unpredictable as you seemed. How naive was I, to climb into the back of your truck, just because I had some harebrained idea that we were kindred spirits? You could have killed me in an instant, and I seriously doubt that seventeen year old me would have been able to defend myself if you'd really wanted to, deadly skin or not.

But if I hadn't gotten in, I could be dead. A lot of other people could be dead. My decision making process was based on flimsy information, but it was backed up by instinct.

My instincts have been screaming at me all day. It's fight or flight, and…I just keep asking myself what you would do, if you were me.

The thing is, Logan, that part of my infactuation with you (if you want to call it that) has always been at least one part admiration. Not just because you're the kind of person who would save a girl's life (although that's part of it), but because you're the kind of guy that couldn't leave a seventeen year old on the side of the road. And you're the kind of guy that wouldn't take advantage of said seventeen year old, even when it would have been very easy for you to.

Even when she may have wanted you to.

And I've been inside your head. I know that you wanted to, too. Not the animal side of you. The good, noble side of you. You love me—that part wasn't a surprise. I've always known you loved me. I guess I just didn't know that you could love me like THAT, is all.

I'm not doing this to prove myself to you. I swear it, Logan, I'm not. I'm doing this because I love you. You're my family, my best friend, and my lifesaver. You're the person I look up to more than anyone else in the world. If you knew about this antidote, you would have been in Scotland two weeks ago yesterday. I know that without a doubt.

I may never get the chance to be with you the way I want to be. I'll settle for knowing that we are friends, true friends, and that by doing this, I'm not only saving you, but other mutants as well. And maybe somewhere out there, there's another damaged girl, one as trusting and naive as I was. Maybe she needs you to come along and save her life. And maybe she'll save yours, too. Either way, you're no good to anyone if you're dead.

Anyway, what I really want to say is: Don't be mad. I know what I'm doing. (That's a blatant lie, but you know what I mean). Truly, after everything you've done for me, it's the least I can do.

Well, it looks like we're about to land. I'm surprisingly calm. Maybe because John managed to pilfer some tiny liquor bottles and has been spiking our soda with them, but mostly because my instincts are telling me that we're doing the right thing.

I hope I'm doing the right thing.

I hope I get to see you again.

I love you,

Rogue

Rogue,

Relax. Everything is going to be okay. Look how far you've already come! You've made it all the way across the ocean to this remote part of Scotland. You haven't been caught, arrested, or molested in any way.

Try not to think about what's ahead of you. Look at the view outside, as you bounce along this narrow dirt road, weaving in and out of mountains. No, don't focus on the fact that you're driving on the wrong side of the road, or that this cab driver looks like an escaped mental patient! Look at the lakes! Look at those trees! Look-anywhere but that fuzzy, lumpy shape on the ground! What is that, anyway?

You still have ages to figure out how to get inside this top secret research facility. Eons before you have to decide if you can sacrifice yourself to save the people you love. Forever until-

Oh, wait. You're here.

The Take A Deep Breath and Calm Down Society

Rogue,

Never in a hundred million years are you going to be able to do this. You're not smart enough. You're not brave enough. You're not any of the million things a body needs to be in order to successfully execute an operation of this magnitude.

We'll be watching from the sidelines.

Don't expect us to help when things go completely, horrifically wrong, though.

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Well, just because getting past security was that simple doesn't mean the rest of this will be. You still have to find the lab that houses the antidote...

Oh. Who would have thought the signs would be that obviously labeled?

Well, you still have to get into the actual lab, and without a pass, it's going to be...

Huh. Excuse us while we check our notes.

THE COLD HARD TRUTH ASSOCIATION

Rogue,

We have a bad feeling about this. Something is very, very suspicious about this situation. It's a little too easy. Neutralizing those security guards at the gate? Even YOU managed to do that without a problem. Stealing those passes, not to mention the uniforms to get you past the front desk? While definitely the sort of thing we look for in our society members, we certainly didn't expect it of you, Rogue. Something must be up.

Look around you. What do you see? Several pasty, nervous-looking scientists in white coats. A couple of security guards with nightsticks. A potted bonzai tree.

Wait. Hold up. Stop. Halt.

Reassess.

It's actually a ficus tree.

Crisis averted.

The Society of Amateur Detectives

Okay, Rogue,

You're in the refrigerated room where they keep the samples. Every sample is labeled with a number, a letter, and a coloured dot. There are over a hundred of them.

Red is for Legacy

But M is for MacTaggart.

Which one is it? Figure it out.

The Society of Mutants Who Can't Be Superheroes (But Could If They Just Tried)

Wait. Why does one of these vials have your name on it?

The Secret Association of All That Is Secret And Mysterious.

Do you hear that? Someone is coming.

It might be a good idea to grab what you can. Perhaps find some syringes? Find the emergency exit, and RUN?

Sensible Suggestions at Your Service, Ltd.

Smooth move, Rogue.

No, really. Completely freaking out like that, dropping everything on the floor, and then pushing John behind that garbage can? It was brilliant.

Especially because that noise you heard was just Logan's Blackberry turning on in your pocket.

We're so amused, Rogue. This couldn't be going better.

Sincerely,

The Society of People Who are Going to Get Themselves Killed (and most likely others, too!)

To: Rogue (Xaviers School)

From: Jubilation Lee (Xaviers School)

Rogue,

WHAT THE EFF IS GOING ON? THE LAST THING WE HEARD YOU WERE BETTER AND NOW THE MANSION HAS LITERALLY GONE BANANAS. SO BANANAS, IN FACT, THAT I AM NOW USING THE WORD BANANA'S 300% MORE OFTEN.

Rogue, we were in Math class when Scott got a phone call, and I'm not even kidding you, his face went completely white. We thought he was going to pass out.

HE ALREADY WASN'T LOOKING SO HOT. THE WHOLE WEEK HE'S BEEN BACK, HE HASN'T BEEN SLEEPING.

Bobby said he walked by his room the other night at 3:00 and he was still on the phone.

NO ONE WILL TELL US WHAT'S GOING ON.

But we've figured some stuff out.

LIKE WE SAID, WE KNOW YOU'RE BETTER, BUT JOHN'S NOT.

And something's wrong with Logan?

AND THE PROFESSOR DOESN'T WANT EITHER OF YOU TO KNOW THAT THERE MIGHT BE AN ANTIDOTE IN SCOTLAND.

Although we can't figure out why. We didn't call you, because in general we trust the Professor to know what's best.

BUT HE'S BEEN ACTING A LITTLE BANANAS, TOO.

And Pete said that if he was sick and there was an antidote, he'd want to know about it, no matter what the Professor said.

RIGHT NOW, EVERYONE IS HOLED UP IN THE PROFESSORS OFFICE.

Classes were canceled for the rest of the day.

EVEN THOUGH WITH ORORO AND HANK GONE, WE'VE BEEN RUNNING ON A LIMITED SCHEDULE ANYWAY.

Oh wow. Bobby's just come in and told us the Professor wants to see us. He thinks that we might actually get to go on a mission.

I'M SO ANXIOUS AND TOTALLY EXCITED!

As excited as we are to finally go on a mission, we really hope it has nothing at all to do with you.

OR IF IT DOES, IT WILL BE A SIMPLE MATTER OF RESCUING YOU FROM THE CLUTCHES OF AN ATTRACTIVE BAND OF MERRY MEN.

Please be okay, please, please, please be okay.

PLEASE?

Love,

Kitty and Jubilee.

To: Rogue (Xaviers School)

From: Logan (Xaviers School)

Rogue,

Last year, you asked me to send you a postcard. I told you that words weren't really my thing, and I know you were disappointed, even though you tried to hide it. I didn't understand it then, but I think I do now. Words are important to you. Hell, you're always writing those letters, and reading those big books about vampires and shit. I may be no good at this mushy, overwrought, letter writing business, but if there's one thing you've taught me, it's that skill is not a pre-requisite for action.

I just laughed a little, thinking that you probably wouldn't like the sound of that. You know what I mean. You've got guts, kid, and I admire that.

The least I can do is try and get this down on paper.

You are no doubt blaming yourself endlessly for getting me sick. I'm not going to try and convince you otherwise, 'cause if anyone understands a thing or two about self-loathing, it's me. But I hope you'll give me a little credit, and realize that I knew the risk I was taking when I touched you the other day.

I've never tried to put this into words before, so bear with me. Something happened to the both of us last year. A scrawny kid climbed into my truck and my life veered so far off course I'm not even sure I could find that old course on a map. I'm not even just talking about the obvious—the leather uniform, living in a mansion kind of life we're both living now. I'm talking about the ridiculous irony that I used to be able to go weeks without speaking to a single human, and today I'm proud to call that scrawny kid my best friend.

You've never asked me what happened in those two days that made me decide to risk my life for you, though I know you well enough to guess that you've wondered. I almost don't want to quantify it—I don't feel like there are words adequate enough to express how I feel without diminishing it, somehow.

I could say that in a way you're my salvation. I read in a book once that loving someone was like being told you never had to die. That it won't save you, but it will save your sanity. Now, I've been told I'll never die, and I can tell you it's no recipe for sanity. Caring about you is a different story.

You saw what I was capable of, and you decided to trust me anyway. It was an incredibly moronic thing to do, and something in me couldn't stand that you were so goddamn vulnerable that trusting me was the best option you had. I almost didn't have a choice but to somehow live up to that trust.

It was never about guilt. In some ways it was about responsibility, but it was never about guilt.

You need to know that I could save your life a thousand times before I could even begin to give you back what you've given to me. You gave me a life, Marie. You gave me something to live for.

I hate that I hurt you. I know from experience that not much I can say on this topic will make you feel better. I could lie, but unfortunately by now you'll know that my thoughts on the matter haven't exactly been…platonic, as of late. I wish I could have prevented you from seeing that.

Kid, there's just something about you that makes me want to be a better person. I don't know if it's the absolute faith you put in me, or something that's innate in you. You make me want to be the kind of person you seem so convinced I am.

And I've come to the conclusion that that guy wouldn't take advantage of an eighteen year old. Even a willing one. And especially not one he considers his best friend.

I know this is scattered, but so are my thoughts. I'll try to end on this note: I hope you know that if you ever need anything, I'll go out of my way to give it to you. So if you need me to leave you alone, or fuck off for a while, you let me know. I hate seeing you hurt, especially if I'm the one who doing it.

Logan

P.S: Have you seen my Blackberry? I'm borrowing Hank's right now-haven't seen mine since the other night.

To: Rogue (Xaviers School)

From: Keltie Mathews (Westchester High)

Rogue,

You've got to be fucking kidding me. You are not going halfway across the world to kill yourself. You just aren't. You're too smart for that.

Tell me you're too smart for that?

You do realize that going halfway around the world to kill yourself (even if it is for a noble cause) isn't actually different from killing yourself at home, right? The end result is the same.

Rogue, I'm freaking out. Please answer this e-mail. I'm going to call Logan right now and tell him everything.

Unless you e-mail me right back and tell me this was all a joke.

You have five minutes.

Keltie

To: Rogue (Xaviers School)

From: Keltie (Westchester High)

I mean it Rogue! I'm going to call him. Then I'm calling your Professor.

Keltie

To: Rogue (Xaviers School)

From: Logan (Xaviers School)

If you want to live to see your 19th birthday, you'll turn on this phone right fucking now.

Logan

To: Rogue (Xaviers School)

From: Charles Xavier (Xaviers School)

Rogue,

Please reconsider what you are about to do. I don't think you understand the seriousness of the situation you are walking into.

I realize I have not been completely upfront with you, and for that I apologize, but my dear, I have my reasons and I wish that you could trust me enough to recognize that.

Please let us know you are safe. We will find some other way out of this.

Professor Xavier

INCIDENT REPORT

Name: Andrew Lowson

Position: Surveillance Technician: Level 2

Supervisor: Dr. Moira MacTaggart

Date of Incident: February 7th

Approximate Time: 13:10

Nature of Incident: (check all that apply)

[X]Health and Safety

[X]Personal Injury

[X]Contamination

[X]]Security Breach

[X] Property Damage

[X] Fire

[X] Information Leak

Were the authorities called?

[X]Police

[X]Fire

[X]Ambulance

[]Excalibur

Reason: Excalibur on assignment to FOH headquarters

Describe incident in as much detail as possible:
Security breach in lower levels. Subjects attempting to procure Legacy strain. Conflict ensued. Gas line was cut and an explosion followed. Subjects were apprehended and are being dealt with by local and international authorities.

That's all anyone's told me, anyway. Moira, you know more than I do, so I hope this description is acceptable.

Please attach any supporting documents and turn into your Acting Head of Security.

Surveillance Transcript

Camera 26. Interior hallway Laboratory 5. Monday, February 7th, 12:47 PM

Two subjects, one male, one female. Skittish. Enter the hall through laboratory 5 door.

Female: Doors are locked. I don't think anyone even knows we're here.

Male: Good

Female: But that's weird, isn't it? This is supposed to be a top secret facility. We practically strolled right in.

Male: Lets not look a gift horse in the mouth, okay?

F: What does that expression even mean?

M: I don't know. I heard Logan say it once.

F: Do you have the syringe?

M: Yeah, it's here. You know, when this is all over, and he's better, you should tell him how you feel.

F: Logan?

M: No, your gift horse. Yes, Logan!

F: Been there, done that.

M: Really? When?

F: One guess.

M: The night you came back drunk as a skunk?

F: Yeah

M: What happened?

F: Is this really the time?

M: You know, I can't say there's going to be a better one.

F: What do you think happened? He called me 'kid', I threw up, and we both pretended it didn't happen. Pretty standard Logan behaviour.

M: Pretty standard Rogue behaviour, too.

F: Shut up!

M: You just need to wait him out. He loves you, don't worry.

F: Don't worry? John, you're holdin' a syringe filled with a toxic bioweapon. I think we're past "don't worry".

M: Good.

F: So...what now?

M: I don't know. I feel like I should say something profound.

F: You don't have to do this.

J: I'm not letting you do it. Got another plan?

F: No. Well...no. I don't know. Maybe we should call Hank, or someone. There's got to be someone else who can do this.

M: You want someone else to die for us?

F: I don't want anyone to die!

M: If I wasn't standing here with you, what would you do? Look at me, Rogue. What would you do? A lot more people are going to die if I don't do this.

F: I...

M: Don't cry.

F: I can't help it. This doesn't feel real. I feel like it should be done in the heat of the moment, with explosions and the building fallin' all around us, not me and you standin' in this piece of shit hallway debating the minutiae of my non-love life!

M: It does seem pretty anti-climactic. But you know, doing it here or in the heat of the moment doesn't make it less real. It's just more like the movies that way.

F: Okay.

M: Don't do that.

F: What?

M: Don't look at me like that. You're making it harder for me to get up the nerve. I'm not going to hug you or anything, so forget it.

F: It's okay. I know you love me.

M: Whatever you say, Ro.D. Well, here goes nothing...

F: Wait!

M: You're procrastinating.

F: Yeah, I am. But think about it. There are like, six guards out there. You take this, and you die. How am I supposed to get you out of here?

M: Leave me here.

F: What? No! How am I supposed to get your body out of here with no one noticing? Especially cause I'm gonna be all sniffly and stuff.

M: Sniffly? Really?

F: Fine, inconsolable with grief, are you happy?

M: Are you really going to be that upset?

F: Do you see my face? Obviously! Where have you been?

M: Off being an evil minion?

F: Yeah, well, we all have our awkward phases. Come on.

M: Wait.

F: Now you're procrastinating.

M: No, do you hear that?

F: What?

M: It's your phone.

F: My-what? What do I do? It's Scott, what do I do?

M:...Answer it?

F: ...Hello?...Jeez, Scott, stop yelling. What's that? Are we at the Muir Island Genetic Research Center, stealing a lethal antidote to the Legacy Virus? Absolutely not.

M: Uh-oh.

F: We are...on holiday. Needed to get away from the doom and gloom, you know? Get a little sun...No, really. We're on the beach as I-What? Mystique?

M: What is it? What's he saying?

F: Stop hitting me! Can you say that again, Scott? Scott?

M: What happened?

F: It got disconnected. He said that Mystique is here. He said we need to get out.

M: What does that mean? Why would Mystique be here?

F: I don't-Oh my God, John! The virus! The different strains-they're going to release it!

M: Why would Magneto want to do that? It doesn't make any sense. Unless...

F: Unless it's been modified to infect humans.

M: Dammit. Why would MacTizzle do that?

F: She wouldn't. But one of her research assistants might. The lab must be compromised. There are probably moles everywhere.

M: Compromised? Moles? You've been watching too much Alias. So now Mystique's coming to get the modified strain?

F: We have to do something.

M: No, we don't. I'm going to take the antidote, and you're going to get the hell out of here.

F: Okay.

M: Finally! Now let's-

F: Right after we destroy the other strains.

M: Can you ever do anything the easy way?

END VIDEO

DAMAGE ASSESSMENT

LABORATORY FIVE

Description of Physical Damage: Crumbled walls, charred equipment, extensive scattered debris. All samples lost.

Other damage: Computers and hard drives melted; information located in the main frame computers accessed and erased from within facility.

Source of damage: Broken gas line. Appears to have been tampered with.

Is restoration likely? No

Injuries? Raven Darkholme, AKA Mystique suffered 2nd degree burns and extensive bruising. Cause of the burns was the explosion but bruises look like defensive wounds.

Her companions, a man and woman who cannot be identified, suffered 3rd degree burns and more serious contusions, also defensive. Currently in a comatose state at the county hospital. Condition is critical

You're such a moron. Look at yourself. Your first time in Europe, and where's the first place you head? A cafe in Amsterdam? A discotheque in Paris? A pub in London?

Nope. A freaking research lab in the middle of nowhere, Scotland.

Even when you do something kind of cool, like saving the world, you do it in the lamest way possible.

Look at yourself. Your hair is slicked to your forehead. Your skin is clammy and blotchy. You look green and blue and purple and to be honest, more than a little creepy.

Do you have something against hairbrushes, Rogue? Against a little preparation before you sacrifice yourself for the sake of humanity? Your face is going to be plastered over the newspapers, hon. Would it have killed you to bring along some lipgloss?

It looks like that syringe might.

You really don't look so good.

The Association of Teenagers

Congratulations, Rogue. You managed to destroy the facility, destroy the other strain, neutralize Mystique and her cronies, and obtain the antidote. Now it's just the simple matter of watching your friend die in your arms.

Sadly,

The Best Friends Club

Don't do it Rogue.

We see you, crouched on that rocky cliff, hunching over those syringes like a kid in a candy shop. We know the sight too well. You think this will solve all your problems, don't you, Rogue? You think it will just take a second and everything will be better, right?

Wrong.

We're here to tell you that drugs are NEVER the answer.

We see that crazed look in your eyes. In John's eyes. We see how your hands are shaking as you tie that fabric around his arm. Both of you are just salivating at the idea of your next fix, but we beg you to look at other options! You have your whole future ahead of you!

Just say NO to drugs, Rogue.

Sincerely,

Clean Teens Club

Rogue,

There's a reason there is a vial with your name on it. Think. Think hard.

Why isn't there one with John's name on it? What's so special about you?

Why would Moira be interested in you in particular? Could it have something to do with your mutation?

Come on, Rogue. We can't be doing all the work here.

Sincerely,

The Amateur Detectives Club

Rogue,

Remember a couple of days ago, when Logan's mutation cured you of the Legacy Virus?

Remember one day ago, and that e-mail from Moira, where she told you that your mutation reacted to the healing gene differently than other mutants?

Remember half an hour ago, when you saw the vial with the true antidote, the vial with your name on it, and the vial with the faulty antidote all next to each other?

Think maybe these things have something in common?

The Memory Trigger Society

Rogue,

Pain. Pain like you've never felt it before. Pain coursing up and down your body, waging a war with your bloodstream, fighting a battle within your very cells.

Everything hurts so much, and you're screaming and crying and begging for it to be over. You're clutching the grass and you can't see straight. The only sense you're aware of is the one that allows you to feel this excruciating pain.

Maybe it's just too much. Maybe you just don't have the strength for this. You've put up a valiant fight, Rogue. We couldn't be prouder. You've come so far, and maybe this is the end of the road.

Death sounds like a pretty good option right now. Just give in to it. Just let go.

You can thank us later,

Sensible Suggestions at Your Service, Ltd.

To: Admin

From: ScottSummers

I found them. About a hundred meters from the lab is a cliff that overlooks the sea. The grass was high enough so that they couldn't be seen from the facility.

Both unconscious, but both alive.

Moira is tending to them now, even though I told her to go to the hospital with the rest of her staff. She brushed me off.

Mystique is in custody, and two researchers (presumably Brotherhood moles) are dead. We're interrogating everyone, trying to determine what exactly happened and how many other moles there were. So far we've found two others, masking as a janitor and an intern. Had the kids not been there, they probably would have disappeared without anyone noticing, and we might live in a very different world right now.

By now the virus should have been neutralized world-wide, but I guess we won't know for a couple of hours. As soon as the kids are stable enough to be moved, I'll arrange for a MedEvac to take them to Glasgow for a thorough observation.

I suspect Logan will be showing up here as soon as he's cleared for release, so I'm sending Ororo and Kurt home with the jet. I'll stay overnight with the kids and at that point I'll have time to write a full report.

I'll update you on their conditions throughout the night.

Scott

FOR ROGUE AND JOHN WHEN YOU WAKE UP! LOOK AT THIS LETTER! STUCK IN THIS VASE OF FLOWERS!

I've been sitting here for over an hour trying to decide what words I can use to express how angry I am at the two of you for the stunt you just pulled. I even asked the nurse for a thesaurus to try and find some stronger synonyms. (For the record: irate, livid, seething, and apoplectic all fit the bill)

But before I could finish, the phone rang. And the letters started flowing in. And the cards and the e-mails and the flowers. Then the President called (yes, that President, the President of the United States) called to congratulate you on your bravery. The British Prime Minister called to ask if there was anything he could do for you while you were in Scotland. Somewhere in the mess of plant life, stuffed animals and candy that is strewn all over this room is a card from Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, wondering if you'd like a cameo in their next film.

It turns out that a quite few people have friends and family who were infected with the Legacy Virus. It turns out even more people have friends and family who are affected by HIV, or SARS, or other epidemics that don't yet have a known cure. People who understand what magnitude of disaster was prevented by what you two did, as stupid and reckless as it was.

And that's when I realized that I already had the words that described how I felt. The words I used when Ellen Degeneres called and asked how I was feeling.

Proud, I told her. And relieved.

I was the first generation of Xavier's students, but you're the first generation that I've ever taught. I figure...well, if I had even a tiny part to play in the people that you've turned into, then a few gray hairs and an early grave is worth it.

I'm prouder of both of you then I'll ever be able to express.

Scott

P.S. But if you ever pull something like this again, you'll be grounded for the rest of your lives.

ROGUE! LOOK AT THIS NOTE! BOUNCING OFF YOUR SKUNK STRIPED HEAD!

How are you feeling?

Like I've just been through a hundred danger room sessions. Why are we writing notes?

My throat is so raw, I can't speak. Can you?

Apparently not. Smoke inhalation?

Must be. How's the arm?

Oh my God. Is it broken?

I'm afraid it is.

How did that happen?

Well, after you tricked me...

I didn't trick you. I had a plan.

Did you ever think about letting me in on it?

Maybe "plan" is a bit too strong of a word…

Hey, John. I'm alive.

Yes, you are.

You're alive.

Yes I am.

We did it!

You did it. If it wasn't for you, I'd be six feet under right now.

I'm pretty awesome.

You're a goddamned superhero. How did you figure it out?

I don't know. It was like I was kneeling there, in the grass, watching you load that syringe, and I just had this feeling like I was missing something. And I thought back to the e-mail Moira sent us, about how my body processed Logan's healing power? And I thought that it probably wouldn't work unless it was absorbed the way I absorbed it, through skin to skin contact. I just hoped if I injected the antidote and you injected the healing genes, and then I touched you, the healing would prevent the antidote from killing me.

You're out of your mind crazy.

Yeah, well...

I think I hear Scott coming. Try to look meek and helpless, and maybe he won't yell at us again.

Dear Keltie,

Well, I'm back in the hospital again.

Have you ever been so tired you couldn't fall asleep? That's how I feel now. I'm tired right down to my very core. I can feel exhaustion rattling around in my bones like clanging old pipes, but I can't fall asleep. Part of the reason is that my arm is in a cast, and it's really hard to fall asleep when I can't sprawl all over the bed like I normally do.

I decided there was no point in tossing and turning and my time would be better spent writing a letter to you. Scott told me he could fax it first thing in the morning.

First of all, I need to say I'm sorry. I'm so sorry to have written that letter to you. I should have known it would just make you worry. I guess I was just sitting there on that plane, with nothing but nervous energy racing around my body, and writing to you always calms me down, so that's what I did. It probably wasn't necessary to send it, though I did think someone should know what we did and why we were doing it.

I totally understand why you called the Professor, and I'm glad you did. It may have saved my life.

I want to tell you everything, really, I do, but even though I trust you, I'm having a hard time convincing the several dozen INTERPOL, CIA, Mutant Affairs, Excalibur, WHO, UN and MI-6 agents that have descended on my hospital room since 3:00 this afternoon. Apparently they want you to have some kind of clearance? Whatever.

I mean, how ridiculous is that? That my life is subject to security clearance? This whole thing is so ridiculous, I don't even understand what everyone is so excited about.

So here are the things I can tell you:

1. I am alive

2. So is John

3. I have a broken arm

4. I can't really talk much

5. Which is actually good, because

6. I still haven't seen Logan

7. I feel more than a little bit ridiculous.

8. Mostly because now that the magnitude of everything has sunk in, I've realized how completely stupid my whole plan was.

I promise that as soon as I can tell you something, I am going to call you up and tell you everything.

I'm starting to get a little sleepy, but before I go, I want to tell you that I'm really glad you're my friend. I understand if after all this you want nothing to do with me, but it doesn't make it any less true. Your friendship (and your letters) have saved me over the last few months, and I don't know what I would have done without them. I hope when I get back home that we can have a more normal friendship, with movies and coffee and girl talk. Does that sound good to you?

Love and gardenias,

Rogue

TRANSCRIPT OF INTERVIEW WITH JOHN "PYRO" ALLARDYCE

Conducted by Scott Summers. Transcript typed by Thelma Thompson.

(The following interview is conducted in a medium sized conference room on the third floor of the hospital. There are leather chairs surrounding a blonde wood conference table. A television monitor stands at the end of the table, with several disks and files piled neatly on top of it. Two others-a man with dark hair and sunglasses (despite the weather, which, I can see out the large window that takes up the West side of the room, is currently grey with a high chance of snow) who is fiddling with a digital recording device, and a younger boy, about 19, sitting slouched in a chair-accompany me. The younger one is extremely irritating-he keeps flicking his lighter back and forth, open and closed. He's not igniting it, though I wonder how the older man can stand such blatant disrespect? If this boy were one of my wards, I-)

Scott: Is this thing on?

John: I think that green light indicates that it is.

Scott: Alright, uh, I'm Scott Summers and this is an interview conducted between myself and John Allardyce. I'm going to, uh, ask you questions about what happened, and you just answer them as honestly and, well, accurately as possible. Let me know if you need a break.

(John makes a pointy gun gesture, and clicks his tongue, as if to indicate: "You got it!")

Scott: Okay. After you guys snuck out of the hospital, what did you do? Uh, actually, before you answer that, why don't you tell me how you got out of the hospital in the first place?

John: Can I ask a question?

Scott: Uh, sure.

John: Who's she? (The interviewee points to yours truly)

Scott: That's Thelma. She's a nurse here. She's going to type up the transcript.

John: So what's up with the voice recorder?

Scott: It's for clarity.

John: How do you know she can be trusted?

Thelma (Me): Oh, I'm very discreet, I can assure you.

Scott: She's quite quick. Look at her go. (They watch me type in fascination for a moment, and I try not to blush too severely) Okay, back to the questions. So, how did you get out of the hospital?

John: It's a bit technical, really. We strapped ourselves into these fancy gadgets called shoes, and used those to walk out.

Scott: (rolling his eyes) Try to keep the sarcasm to a minimum, okay? There's only so much my nerves can take. Where did you go after you left the hospital?

John: McDonalds.

Scott: (rubbing his forehead) John...

John: I'm serious. After we left the hospital, we sat in a McDonald's and tried to figure out what to do next. We'd heard Ororo mention that the virus was probably created by the FOH, so we were going to head to their headquarters. We figured if anyone would have an antidote, they would.

Scott: Did you realize how dangerous any attempt to infiltrate their headquarters would be, and decide to head to Muir Island instead?

John: Uh, no.

Scott: Did you know that Excalibur was attempting to shut the FOH down, leaving the Muir Island facility more vulnerable and therefore easier to infiltrate?

John: No.

Scott: Did you know the Brotherhood had already infiltrated the Muir Island facility and created a strain that was lethal to humans, so you decided to it was your duty to destroy it?

John: No.

Scott: Then I give up. Why head to Muir Island instead of FOH headquarters?

John: We didn't know where it was.

Scott: (rubbing his temples as though he must have a very bad hangover. Which, considering the fact that he is wearing sunglasses, indoors, in the middle of February, is probably very likely). Go on

John: So, uh, we figured we'd try Muir Island, because we'd been e-mailing Moira and we knew she had a few things cooked up. We hoped that it wouldn't have to come down to one of us injecting the antidote and dying, but if it came down to it, I was going to do it.

Scott: (looking quite pale under his glasses) Why?

John: Why what?

Scott: Why would you be willing to sacrifice yourself? Why would you do something so reckless?

John: (as though he hadn't heard) Anyway, we decided to go to Scotland, but we didn't have any ID so I, uh…do I have immunity?

Scott: Immunity?

John: Well, what we didn't wasn't strictly speaking legal, so...I'd like immunity, please.

Scott: Let's just skip ahead…we can deal with the legal ramifications of your actions later. (Looking concerned, he jots something down on his pad of paper) You're in Scotland. How did you get into the facility?

John: We walked in. No one was at the security station.

Scott: No one?

John: Yeah, we thought it was weird, but now that you mention Excalibur being on a mission...

Scott: They were trying to take down the Friends of Humanity. I didn't realize the security would be so lax that you guys could just stroll right in though...Most likely it was a result of the Brotherhood infiltration...

John: (scratching his neck, avoiding everyone's eyes) Yeah...probably...

Scott: Do you think Mystique knew you were there at that point?

John: No. She seemed pretty surprised when we busted in on her in the lab.

Scott: So what happened after you walked into the facility?

John: Well, you saw the tapes, right? We got into the lab, found the antidote, gave Rogue a minute to freak our about there being a vial with her name on it, and tried to get the hell out of Dodge.

(We all look up as a big, frightfully attractive man walks into the conference room and takes a seat. He makes a gesture as if to say 'Don't mind me.' Again, I try not to blush as his hazel eyes land on me)

Scott: (Turning back to John) But you went back.

John: She made me. Once you called and we realized why the Brotherhood was there, she said we couldn't leave the virus to fall into wrong hands

Scott: And that's when you ran into Mystique

John: And a couple of her more nefarious buddies.

Scott: How did you get away?

John: While Rogue was showing off her hand to hand combat-nice training, by the way. She kicked ass.

Scott: (frowning) I don't think I can take credit for that. (He glances at the large man, who hasn't said a word)

John: So while she was taking them down, I pulled an oxygen line out of the wall. One flick of my lighter and the whole lab was done for.

Scott: And Rogue?

John: Poison skin comes in pretty handy sometimes. I grabbed her hand and we both just rode it out. After the lab was destroyed, we made a run for it. By then, the whole centre was being evacuated out the front, so we ran out the back. We ran down this cliff to a ledge that provided enough cover for the both of us. I filled up a syringe while Rogue was looking at the bottles.

Scott: And she realized what the other vials were?

John: She must have, but I didn't know it. She told me to wait, and I was getting pissed because I was already pretty fucking anxious, and she kept trying to procrastinate. I think she's in love with me.

Scott: (clearly trying to hide a smile) Why do you say that?

John: Because she threw herself at me?

(Both men jerk their heads up in surprise, but only the pointy-haired one looks murderous)

Scott: Why don't you stick to the facts, John?

John: Those are the facts! Okay, okay, calm down. She asked me to, uh, try the other antidote first, the one Moira said came from the healing powers of mutants like the Wolverine (He looks at the large man, who must be the Wolverine-what an unusual name! But then this whole group seems rather unusual.) I knew it wasn't going to work, but I don't know...I guess I was trying to buy time as well, so I humoured her.

As expected, it did nothing. Before I could make a snarky comment about it, Rogue grabbed the other syringe and jabbed it into her arm. THEN she threw herself at me.

Wolverine: She'd figured out that if she absorbed the healing power through you, after taking the antidote, she might survive.

John: If that helps you sleep at night. I think she just wanted to make out.

Scott: Okay, Logan, I think I can take it from here. Go take a walk.

(Wolverine/Logan makes a very rude gesture in Scott's direction, but leaves the room)

Scott: What then?

John: Well, obviously her skin was turned on, and she wasn't holding back. I'd felt it before, but it was nothing like this. It felt like my soul was being ripped out of me. I tried to pull away, but I couldn't. It was like...

Scott: Like what?

John: I dunno. It was almost like she'd taken the part of me that could control my body, and was using it against me. Like I was a puppet or something. It was-disturbing, to say the least.

I was shaking and sweating, and when she finally let go, I fell over and landed on her arm. She didn't even scream or anything-just passed out. But then her whole body started shaking, like, uh, like a seizure. It looked like she was being electrified, like something inside of her was trying to pummel its way out. These bubbles of blackness were creeping into my vision, and I just wanted to lie down and lose consciousness, but her whole body was thrashing about so I dragged myself over and tried to hold her head so she wouldn't cut it on the rocks. Like you taught us in that First Aid class?

Then, I dunno, I must have passed out too. The next thing I know, I'm in the hospital again and everything smelled like gardenias.

Scott: That's probably enough for now. Thank you John.

John: No problem.

TRANSCRIPT OF INTERVIEW WITH ROGUE D'ANCANTO

Conducted by Scott Summers. Transcript by Thelma Thompson.

(In the same conference room. The weather has, as predicted, turned to snow. In the conference room with me sits Scott (the man with the sunglasses), another imposing looking man (although this one is different than the Wolverine, and not nearly as fit) and a young girl with a rather unattractive hairstyle. The girl is watching the snow falling outside the window. I wonder how this could possibly be the girl that everyone is talking about? She looks barely out of high school, and certainly not feisty enough to be the one responsible for all this hoopla. But what do I know? I'm just a grandmother of three, although if anyone tells you that doesn't count as expertise, they haven't-)

Scott: Rogue, good to see you up and healthy.

Rogue: Thanks.

Scott: How's your voice?

Rogue: Still a little rough.

Scott: Okay, well there's, uh, water here, and if you need to take a break, just let me know.

Rogue: Alright.

Scott: I've already talked to John, but I need to get your side of the story. Do you want to tell me what happened after you two left the hospital?

Rogue: Do I have immunity?

Scott: Immunity? I think you two have seen too many Law & Order reruns. Let's just say you do.

Rogue: Do you have the authority to grant that?

Sullivan: I do. Just tell us what happened, honey.

Rogue: Who are you?

Scott: This is Officer Sullivan. He's our INTERPOL liaison. Just pretend he isn't here.

(a few minutes are spent having Sullivan write out an immunity agreement on a napkin. Mr. Summers and I sign it as witnesses)

Rogue: (looking suspiciously at Officer Sullivan, but continuing in a soft, southern accent) Alright. After we used our totally legitimate passports and entirely legally obtained tender to get to Scotland, we broke into the lab.

Scott: By broke into, you mean walked right in?

Rogue: Sure, if that helps you sleep at night. What did John tell you? After we "walked right in", we got to the lab, saw the vials, grabbed them and ran. John was going to inject the virus right there, but I had the foreskin-

Scott: Do you mean foresight?

Rogue: What did I say? I told him he was an idiot, 'cause he is, and that we had to go somewhere else. Then I realized that we couldn't just leave without destroyin' those samples-

Officer Sullivan: Even though destroying intellectual property constitutes an international felony punishable by life in prison?

Rogue: Um, have you ever met Erik Lensheerr? D'you even know what he could've done with those samples?

Sullivan: That's all well and good, honey, but it wasn't your decision to make.

Rogue: You're right. Good thing I have that immunity thing though, huh sugar?

Scott: John told us how you destroyed the lab.

Rogue: (Grinning, and I swear, it changes her whole face. Lass could probably sell pianos to elephants with that smile) Yeah, that was pretty awesome. (Glancing at Officer Sullivan, who has dropped his forehead rather loudly to the table) What?

Officer Sullivan: Just...continue.

Rogue: I got to deliver the most satisfyin' roundhouse kick to Mystique.

Scott: Logan's training, I presume

Rogue: (I can't be sure, but she seems to be blushing) Yeah.

Scott: He'll be proud.

Rogue: Is he-? Nmh, never mind. So anyway, we ran outside, to this beautiful cliff overlookin' the ocean. We could hear sirens and helicopters but we were pretty well concealed. John started fillin' up a syringe, and I ripped off a piece of my shirt to tie around his arm. Then I started lookin' more closely at the bottles, and the names of the antidotes. I realized that the vial with my name on it was exactly the same as the vial that John was gonna inject. It was the antidote that Moira said would neutralize the virus but kill whoever took it.

Scott: And I thought you never paid attention in Chemistry class.

Rogue: (smiling awkwardly) Yeah...Well, actually it was more a matter of just being able to read...

Scott: Oh.

Rogue: But yours a very good class, don't worry. I tell everyone how much I like it, all the time. Really, ask anyone.

Scott: Really?

Rogue: Sure. So...I dunno if I really even thought out the whole thing-I'd like to think I did, but lookin' back it's all kind of a blur. I guess I just figured that maybe if Logan's powers could heal me through absorption, the other healin' powers could too. I figured maybe Moira had thought the same thing, and that's why my name was on the vial?

Scott: You're right.

Rogue: And I also figured she never would have asked anyone to take that risk...

Scott: Not with a compound that wasn't FDA approved. Too many legal and ethical complications.

Rogue: Right, but with the time frame we were workin' with, I couldn't just wait and see.

Scott: (sighing) Do you have any idea how big of a risk that what?

Rogue: I've gotten a pretty good idea...

Scott: (Continuing as though he hadn't heard) You didn't know if the antidote would work in the same way the virus did. Or if the healing factor they used in the other antidote would work in the same way as Logan's...or if there would be any side affects...or if you'd be able to control your mutation enough not to kill John...

Rogue: Like I said, I didn't really think it through...

Scott: Which was pretty stupid.

Rogue: Yeah, but Scott, gimme a break. The whole thing was stupid. Everythin' that worked out was completely by chance. We could have just as easily decided to go find FOH instead, or Excalibur could have picked another day to leave the facility. If that had been the case, we would have been SOL, because there was no way we could have broken into the lab as easily as we did. And there's no way the Professor or Moira would have let me take that antidote, no matter how dire Logan's situation was. I still made the right decision, no matter how stupid my reasonin'.

(she looks as though she may cry)

Scott: (After a hesitation) You may have done a stupid thing, but I'm still proud of you. And it's not your reasoning I'm worried about-not many people could have been as quick thinking as you were. I just...it makes me want to be sick, thinking about what could have happened to the two of you.

Rogue: (sniffling) I know. I'm sorry I scared you.

Scott: Okay. (Turning to me) You don't need to include that part.

Thelma (me): Oh, no, this is great! Please continue.

Rogue: I asked John to try the other antidote first. He was pissed, I could tell, but he did it. I think he's in love with me.

Sullivan: Oh brother...

Rogue: I tied the piece of my shirt around his arm, but we had trouble findin' a vein at first. All of a sudden, I had this delirious moment where I saw the scene as it would look to an outsider-you know, two kids desperately tryin' to shoot up? I had an insane desire to start laughing. I caught John's eyes, and he had the same crazed look. We both lost it-fell over, clutchin' each other, gaspin' for breath, dyin' of laughter. It was ridiculous.

Then we calmed down enough to find the right vein. He took the syringe and jabbed it into his arm. He paused, shrugged, and said: "Here goes nothin'." He injected the full dose into his arm. Before he could stop me, I picked up the second syringe, his original. I didn't have time to find a vein, or to tie something around my arm. I had to hope that it didn't matter. His eyes widened and he freaked out when I jabbed it into my arm.

He screamed at me, asked me what the fuck-pardon my language-I was doing. He was furious, but mostly he was scared. I felt the pain almost immediately, and it took every ounce of willpower I had to stay conscious, to grab his shirt and pull him towards me. I turned my skin on full blast, and then...

Scott: You kissed him?

Rogue: (blushing fully now) Yeah. I mean, maybe it was kind of slutty, or overdramatic, I dunno. It wasn't, like, a...sexual...thing. I don't see him like that, not like with...uh, I just figured I might die. Why the hell not?

Scott: What did you see when you absorbed him?

Rogue: (pauses for a minute, smiles a bit) No offence, but I think that's between me an' John.

(Everyone in the room is silent)

Scott: Okay, I think that's all we need. Thank you, Rogue.

Rogue: Yeah, no problem. Oh, and about that movie with Brad Pitt...

Scott: We'll discuss it later.

How are you feeling? Scott said you lost your voice again after the interview.

Yeah, I did.

I just wanted to say thanks.

For what?

Well, for everything obviously. But mostly for what you said-or rather, what you didn't say. I just read your transcript.

Oh. Yeah, don't worry about it.

What did you see? When you absorbed me?

Do you really want to know, John? It's your head.

Yeah, I would. I'd like to know where we stand.

What do you mean?

I'd like to know what you saw.

It's all kind of a jumble.

Please, Rogue.

You didn't understand what I was doing. That was the first thing I felt, when the connection opened. You were furious at me, scared for me, and resentful that I was stealing your martyrdom. You were in pain, because I was taking too much, but I didn't have a choice.

I know that.

There's more. I saw the first time you and Bobby and I walked in the woods after midnight. The first time you and Bobby talked about your respective families. The first time you and Kitty kissed-I didn't know about that one.

Yeah.

The day you realized your parents weren't coming back for you. I'm so sorry. That must have sucked.

What else?

Images of the desert, of strange birds and landmarks I've never seen. A cave, red and dusty. A girl, blond, naked, her lips pressing against your chest. Magneto, dismissing you. The view from the helicopter as it lifted off from Alkali Lake. The knowledge that you'd left us to die.

That was it, wasn't it, John? Your impetus for sacrificing yourself? You wanted to atone for it?

Do you want me to stop?

No

And me. It was really weird watching these images of myself flow into my brain. I mean, I've seen myself through others eyes before-first Cody, then Logan, and later Bobby. It's a weird sensation, to see yourself as others see you. It's mostly feelings of fear and self-preservation-that overrides everything else.

(The only exception was with Logan on the statue. When I woke up from that, I saw myself mixed with images of another girl, one with red hair and old fashioned clothing. It took me days to even remember my name, to accept that I'd never worked in a mine or churned butter or been killed by the man I loved.)

Anyway, with you, it was the sheer amount of images that overwhelmed me. I saw myself as I'd looked my first day at the mansion, that first day of school as you and Bobby competed for my attention. I saw campfires on the grounds, movie nights with Kitty, and midnight snacks with Jubilee. I saw myself changing into my swimsuit early in the morning (pervert-how come I never saw you?). There was an intensity of emotion that surprised me. It wasn't romantic. It was vaguely erotic, although that probably had more to do with that fact that we were kissing. It was more like a strong feeling of attachment and loyalty, mixed in with its own fair share of resentment.

John?

John, I know its weird to think that all that's inside my brain, but I don't think any less of you. And I promise you, it will fade. Don't get all weird on me.

I'm not...okay, well, maybe I am a little. You really saw all that?

Yeah.

Don't get any ideas. I'm not like, in love with you or anything.

Ha ha, yeah, I know. But you do love me.

Whatever, Ro.D.

Yeah, I love you.

I love you too, D-Dawg.

Logan, however, is a different story. He is very much in love with you.

Oh, shut up.

You think I'm lying.

No.

You saw it inside his head, didn't you?

I'm not exactly sure what I saw.

Yes you are. It just scared you too much to think about.

Oh, what do you know?

I know that you've loved him since the first time you got a look into that twisted head of his. God, Rogue, if there's a chance he feels the same way, why don't you take it?

Because it doesn't matter how he feels. It never matters how Logan feels, it's what he thinks that always screws me over. He acts like he's this lone cowboy with no morals, but inside he's a compunctious mess. If he gave in to how he felt-if he even thinks about how he feels, it would violate whatever imaginary duty he has to protect me.

Maybe he just needs to know you can take care of yourself.

I just saved the friggen world, for goodness sake. If he doesn't know it by now, I don't think there's any hope.

You've thought about this a lot, huh?

Well, we've been in the hospital for months now.

Rogue, it's been a day and a half.

Whatever! I know he's here. I heard one of the nurses talking about how "fit" he was. Where the hell is he?

Maybe he's scared, too.

I'm not scared. I'm pissed off. And the worst thing is, I can't even tell him how pissed off I am because thanks to Scott and his questions, my vocal chords have gone AWOL again.

That's all you want to tell him? That you're pissed?

John, he already knows the rest.

Hey, Kid. John said you've lost your voice. He said you've been talking in notes like this?

Yeah. Where is he?

I think he's taking a walk with Scott. Do you want me to go get him?

No.

I'm glad you're okay, Logan.

I'm glad you're okay, too. I should have said that before.

You calmed down since the last time you were in here?

Yeah...look, I'm sorry about that.

Good.

I probably shouldn't have yelled.

No.

I probably shouldn't have punched the wall.

Probably not.

I definitely shouldn't have said you were a damned idiot with delusions of heroism.

Definitely not.

But if the shoe fits…

You can leave anytime you like.

Come on, kid.

No, you come on! You strut in here all high and mighty when I just saved your ass from dying. You would have done exactly the same thing in my shoes.

It's different.

HOW IS IT DIFFERENT?!

It just is. It's my job to protect you.

ITS NOT YOUR JOB! YOUR JOB IS TO BE MY FRIEND!

I'm sorry kid, I shouldn't be antagonizing you when you're sick.

Oh, Logan. I'm not a china doll. It's that kind of thing I was talking about…

You mean when you were screaming at me earlier?

Yeah.

It was kinda hard to tell.

Yeah, well. Smoke inhalation combined with a toxic bioweapon does not a healthy voice box make.

Explain what you meant, before.

You, walking on eggshells around me. Acting like I need someone to watch over me every second. Like I can't take care of myself. It drives me crazy!

Can you blame me? One second you're begging me to get you drunk, the next you're committing an international felony because of some harebrained idea that you're going to save the world. You could have been killed. You could gotten a lot of other people killed. What you did was stupid and reckless.

Yeah, and it was also the right thing to do. And it worked.

I thought I could kick your butt to make you stronger, but it's made you think you're invincible. I don't know how to help you when you're throwing yourself into harms way like that.

Well, I don't know how to be your friend when you're being a condescending asshole like that.

Excuse me?

You think I need you to tell me all this? You think I don't question myself every damned day, about every single thing I do? I have your voice in my head, Logan, and you're not shy about telling me exactly what you think.

But just because you're in my head doesn't mean you understand me, and it doesn't make us alike. I did what I thought I had to do. I've been doing what I thought I had to do for the last year, and if you ever stuck around long enough, you'd see that too. If you don't know what to make of it, well, then that's your own damned fault.

I told you I'd take care of you, and I've tried. You just keep making sure I have to try harder.

Is that what you think I'm doing?

You think I do this stuff so that you can keep proving you care about me?

I don't know.

No.

Good, because do you know how insulting that is? Dammit, I didn't ask for you to play sworn protector.

So what, you don't need me anymore?

I need you. But God, Logan, it's so much more than that.

I don't understand.

I don't know how to explain it to you.

Why did you do it?

Break into the lab?

All of it.

Because:

1. It was the right thing to do.

2. I wanted to be a superhero (so that part you're right about, sue me)

3. Illyanna Rasputin died, and more people were going to.

4. I wanted to save you like you saved me. (And I'm in love with you.)

5. To prove myself. (To you, to everyone, but mostly myself.)

6. It's what Jesus would have done. (And probably Superman, Spiderman, or Wonder Woman, too.)

7. It's what you would have done.

Honestly, it wasn't even a decision, Logan. The night on Liberty Island, when you saved my life, did you come up with a list of pro's and con's? Or did you just act?

I hesitated.

I'm sorry?

Before I touched you, I hesitated. I was scared. I'm not proud of it, but there it is.

Are you serious?

Yes.

I sure as hell hope you hesitated! Everyone would have thought you were some kind of pervert if you were running your hands all over me as soon as you got the chance.

Kid...

Logan, the list above is just what I'm thinking now. I'm not even sure what I was thinking when it was happening. Maybe I thought it was going to be like the movies, or something. Maybe I thought Brad Pitt would come knocking on my door after...I don't know. I could have had the stupidest reasons in the world, but does it matter?

You're the one who taught me that noble actions don't always need noble intent. Remember?

I remember.

I don't care if you hesitated.

About #4…

I can already tell by the look on your face that this conversation is not going to turn out in my favour.

You're so young, Rogue.

And you're so old.

The look on your face! Whatever, Logan. You know how I feel. But if you've made up your mind, I'm not going to try and convince you.

That's out of character.

I'm trying to grow.

I know you are, kid.

I should let you get some sleep.

Whatever, Logan.

Whatever, Rogue. I'll see you in the morning.

A/N: One more chapter! Thanks for sticking it out this long!

Marie, John,

Here's the full interview. My editor has a few changes to make, but I wanted your approval before it's sent to the presses. You can call me at the office—917-555-8585.

It was a pleasure meeting you both. Good luck with finals.

Jeremy.

Legacy Epidemic - A background

Jeremy Reese

Reporting from Glasgow, Scotland

In the five years that I've worked at for The Washington Post, I've covered stories on everything from street level mutant attacks to Brotherhood confrontations to the events of Black Thursday. If I'm going to be honest here, the so-called superior species hasn't done much to endear itself to me-especially after my friend and colleague Cooper "Doc" Saunderson was killed by a member of the Brotherhood of Mutants last October in the infamous Rapid City standoff with US Marshals. I wasn't shedding tears over the news that there was a virus targeting only mutants, and I hardly seemed alone in this sentiment: the American public had grown more than resentful over increasing reports of mutant conflicts. With two wars brewing in allied nations, an economy on the downturn, and Congress in disarray over the Masterson scandal, we had a lot on our minds.

When Supreme Court Justice Thompson was hospitalized for exhaustion in late December, I, along with every other Democrat in Washington, wondered if there was a chance of getting another liberal on the bench. A week later, Senator Kelly, notorious for his unexpected about-face on the issue of mutant registration, dropped out of the public eye. Around the same time, the President's chief of staff announced his sudden retirement

Outside of Washington, seemingly unrelated events took place. Miranda St. Denis, star of the popular pseudo-reality show "What Happens In Vegas" entered rehab for a rumoured sex addiction, while Harlan Sheffield, winner of the CMA for Performer of the Year, cancelled his North American tour. And John Church, one of the most respected comedians of our time, announced he could no longer host the Oscars due to "family problems".

Suddenly the rumours were flying. Something other than addictions or affairs were behind these disappearances These people were mutants, and they'd contracted the Legacy virus. Across the country, panic spread. If people under as much scrutiny as our celebrities could conceal their mutant status, could friends and neighbors as well? And was there a cure for this so-called "Legacy"?

Within a week, the WHO had raised the epidemic spread estimate to Phase 5. In the Oval Office, President McKenna met with the CDC to discuss declaring a State of Emergency.

Like any similar crisis in the 21st century, people questioned the seriousness of the situation. After all, the virus was isolated only to mutants—did that really necessitate declaring a State of Emergency, a move that would surely pass more costs onto the taxpayers? Civil liberties activists took issue with these statements. Donald Francisco, head of the Los Angeles ACLU, harkened the rumours circulating about Legacy to misinformation and paranoia that was rampant at the start of the AIDS epidemic. "Let's learn from our mistakes," Francisco urged during a press conference in early February. He encouraged Americans to take the regular precautions advised during a flu epidemic, and to remember that mutants were citizens as much as anyone else. More radical groups claimed that the virus was being re-engineered to infect humans, a rare example of propaganda that was chillingly correct.

Before the panic had reached an all time peak, however, infected mutants made a miraculous recovery. Word spread that an antidote had been created, one that needed only one living source to neutralize the virus. As more reports trickled in, the country was gripped with the realization of just how close we had come what the WHO called "the worst bio-chemical threat since the 1918 Spanish Influenza". The public demanded answers. How had such a catastrophe been prevented, and who was responsible?

The answers were slow in coming. We eventually learned that the virus had been created by the Friends of Humanity (FOH) an anti-mutant group dedicated to preserving the human race. As for the recovery, two mutants had been responsible-not only for hosting the antidote, but also for destroying the only sample of the cross-engineered virus (suspected to have been created by the Brotherhood of Mutants). Even more astounding was the fact that not only were these mutants barely adults, neither had perished as a result.

For safety reasons, the names of the individuals responsible were not released. Of course, it didn't take the media long to identify the two as Marie D'Ancanto, 18, and John Allardyce, 19, and even less time figure out that the pair were being cared for at Glasgow's University Hospital. While I conducted the interview featured on A6, journalists from almost every news outlet in the developed world gathered outside, hoping for a glimpse of the teenagers that the Daily News has dubbed, rather melodramatically, "The Children of the (R)evolution".

Scientists are continuing to study the development of Legacy and the possibility of mutated strains. Visit for a day-by-day timeline of the virus and extended interview coverage.

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH LEGACY HEROES

Jeremy Reese interviews the two teenagers responsible for the Legacy cure

It's time for a confession: If I were still eighteen, I would have fallen completely head over heels for Marie D'Ancanto. Something tells me, however, that I'd have more than my fair share of competition.

Take for example, her partner in crime, John Allardyce. The two insist fervently that they are indeed just friends, but the way he grins at her corny jokes, and the way she teases him about his messy hair, say otherwise. The two are comfortable with each other in way that most married couples would envy.

To paint a picture: Marie is the image of a perfect Southern belle, were it not for the goth-style streaks that frame her face- and the fact that this debutante is extensively trained in Krav Maga, Aikido, and marksmanship. Her eyes are simultaneously shy, wary, and playful. I tell her that she has the kind of smile men would walk to the ends of the earth for.

"Stop it," she blushes. "You're just trying to get some juicy gossip for your readers."

"Don't put yourself down," quips John. "I'd walk to the ends of the earth to get away from your singing."

I mention that he clearly had no problem following her all the way to Scotland. He falls silent, tossing a battered Zippo between his hands. John has a lanky build, with a slouch and smirk that could give James Dean a run for his money.

The two are cagey, though they do their best to answer my questions about their experience as mutants. Marie ran away from home at 16, after what can only be described as an attempted lynching in her Mississippi hometown. John was abandoned by his parents a few months after his power – an ability to manipulate fire—manifested. It's not easy to listen to their histories—neither seem to fit the "teenage runaway" archetype, but both admit to squatting, stealing and fighting in order to survive.

I ask them why they chose me to conduct their first and only interview with the press. They explain that they wanted someone without a pro-mutant bias. "We wanted to reach a wider audience, and there are certain reporters that some of the conservative population just won't listen to." Marie explains.

Out of curiosity, I name a few. John nods, and pokes Marie when I mention Geoffrey Perry. "Marie wanted him because he's cute." I pretend to be insulted, and she quickly rushes to assure me that I am equally attractive. Her already flushed face reaches near fever levels.

I ask what I know most readers will want to know. Why did they choose to risk their lives for total strangers?

Before answering, the two conduct an entire conversation in a glance, as though confirming which details to reveal or conceal. Eventually Marie tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "John was sick, with the Legacy Virus, and my...one of my very good friends was as well. We didn't know what else to do."

I tell them that many people had sick loved ones. Why did they decide it was worth sacrificing their lives, instead of leaving it in the hands of someone older, more experienced?

Another look. They reveal that originally John was to be the one injecting the antidote. His logic? "Well, I was already a goner, as far as I was concerned. Figured I might as well help a few people along the way." He makes sure I know that it was Marie that insisted on going back to destroy the re-engineered sample.

"I don't have, like a hero complex, or a death wish," she explains, when I press for more details. "We weren't trying to be martyrs, we were just trying to do the right thing." She pauses. "I think that most people in our position would have done the same."

I ask John what happened to make him change his mind about taking the antidote. At this, he grins, and turns to his friend. "Nothing. [Marie] just felt like stealing the spotlight."

"I did not!" she protests, but as she explains, she smiles. "My particular mutation works in a way that it was able to process the antidote without killing me. I only realized it in the nick of time. Sorry I didn't send you a memo," she adds, tetchily.

I ask her for specifics about her mutation, but she politely refuses to elaborate. Instead, she asks me how I like working for the Post. I get the hint, and turn my questioning back to their backgrounds.

Much has been made over that fact that the two attend a school for mutants.

While not the only institution of its kind, it is the only one that also trains its students in combat, espionage, and warcraft, in the hopes that when they graduate, they'll join in the fight for mutant equality. I ask whether such training is really necessary-surely the fight for mutant equality could be fought in courtrooms and classrooms, much like other movements of its type?

They both rush to assure me that they aren't being taught to use violence as a means to an end. "It's more like a...byproduct," John says, thoughtfully. "The lessons are more to protect us than anything else. But also to protect others," he turns to his companion. "Right?"

"Right," she confirms, seemingly more convinced of the schools objective than he is. "The world is a hostile place for a mutant, with groups like the Coalition for the Protection of Man, or the Friends of Humanity," she spits the name like a sour taste in her mouth. "Trying to wipe us off the planet. And for humans, with the Brotherhood of Mutants or what have you. Our teachers want us to work for the good of everyone, not just mutants."

I ask them if that's why they felt they had to embark on their mission to destroy the Legacy Virus. "I think..." John says slowly. "That we've been taught to see our powers as tools, instead of curses. And...we've been taught that we can make a difference." He looks at Marie, who is regarding him with a mixture of pride and surprise on her face. "So...I guess my answer is...probably? [Our teachers] definitely weren't happy with us for doing it, so I don't think they'd ever actively encourage their students to do something as stupid as we did, but I think the core values are there, yeah."

Have their lives changed now that the whole world views them as heroes?

"Oh yeah," John says, stretching his arms up and cracking his neck. "Before, we couldn't leave the hospital without [our guardian's] written permission. Now, we need to consult Scotland Yard and be accompanied by MI-5, and that's before Scott even considers laughing and telling us to forget about it."

Marie says that all of the cards and letters from supporters have been overwhelming. "Just to know we made such a difference to so many people..." she bites her lip. "It brings home the fact that we made the right choice."

People have sent money and gifts as well. Marie confirms that everything has been donated to charity. One particularly generous donor sent two tickets for an Alaskan cruise, after friends of the pair told the press how "like, totally obsessed" Marie was with the state. Those, Marie admits, they kept.

"Since I'm done school this year, it's going to be a bit of a graduation trip."

When asked if he's going as well, John shakes his head. "I hate the snow. And those friggen polar bears... No thank you."

Marie laughs at him. "Polar bears? Really?"

I have to ask: If not John, who would be accompanying her?

"Oh, one of my friends, I'm sure." She has to wait until after her broken arm heals, which gives her plenty of time to finish her studies and find a travel partner.

Before I wrap up the interview, I ask two more questions: With all the obstacles they faced on the journey, what was it that kept them going?

She considers the question. "I don't think I realized I had any other options. I just did what I thought was right, and everything worked out from there."

John nods in agreement.

Surely, I ask, others have an opinion on the qualities they possessed that allowed them to succeed?

"Scott said we had a shitload of luck and the recklessness of youth on our side." John answers.

Marie smiles and adds: "Whatever that means."

For those interested, donations can be made to the Jean Grey Memorial Fund for Mutants in Need by calling 1-888-555-9876. If you know a mutant child in need of protection, contact Hank McCoy at the Mutant Affairs office, or send an e-mail to HankMcCoy(at)MutantAffairs(dot)gov

To: Sector4(at)interpol(dot)int
From: BSullivan(at)interpol(dot)int
Subject: Thing 1 and Thing 2

Subjects will be moved from hospital to GLA tomorrow morning at 06:00. Security has been put in place to prevent media interference.

Flight from GLA to EWR at 11:00. Officers will be on board, as will a Federal Air Marshall.

-Sullivan

I'm bored. This movie really sucks. And I'm pretty sure I've seen our flight attendant in "Big Busty Babes 2: Babes Take Los Angeles"

You would know something like that, wouldn't you?

You okay? You're looking a little green.

Yeah, you know I just hate flying. I'll be fine.

Bit ironic that you're scared of flying, considering the experience we've just been through.

Whatever. You're scared of polar bears. Did those Coca-cola commercials give you nightmares when you were a kid or something?

THEY ARE THE BIGGEST BEARS! And they're really vicious. Don't judge me.

Why are we writing notes, anyway?

I dunno. I guess I just got used to it. Besides, I don't want anyone to hear what we're saying.

Yeah, I can see how bears and babes makes for some high clearance intel.

You know what? I'm sick and tired of your attitude. Go to your room.

Speaking of rooms, where are you going to stay when we get back to the mansion? I can't imagine you'll want to bunk up with Bobby again.

John?

John, I know you're awake. If you're not careful I'm going to have a pretzel free throw contest into your mouth. That's really attractive, the way your tongue is hanging out like that.

God, you're annoying.

3 points!

You're not coming back are you?

No.

That's great, John. What are you going to do? Live on the streets? Crash on Magneto's couch? I can't friggen believe this.

Would you calm down? I never said I was going back. You just assumed.

I thought I had a good reason to.

Aw, don't look at me like that. Are you going to let me tell you the whole story, or do you want to continue jumping down my throat? Because in all honesty, if you're going to jump down anything, I'd rather it be my-

DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT FINISHING THAT SENTENCE. Fine. Tell me the whole story.

Scott and I had a long talk the other day while you and Logan were duking it out. He said that as much as he wanted me to come back to the mansion, he understood if I didn't want to jump back in like nothing had happened. He told me no one was going to force me to come back.

That was awfully reasonable of him. I'll have to smack him when he gets back from the washroom.

ANYWAY. He said if I'm interested, Xavier needs someone working abroad. Someone able to travel, to get in and out of places and not cause too much trouble.

And you said yes?

Not at first. I didn't think I fit the bill. But after I thought about it for a couple of days, I realized it doesn't matter. I want to try. Maybe I'll be really good at it. And who knows? Maybe after I've proved myself, I'll come back and become an X-Man.

I don't think you need to prove yourself.

Maybe not to you. Or to Scott. But to everyone else I do. And…I need to prove it to myself, as cheesy as that sounds. Does that make sense?

Yes. That doesn't mean I have to like it.

I didn't think you would. That actually means a lot to me.

What? That I understand or that I don't like it?

Both.

You're a weirdo.

And you're squeezing my hand hard enough to make my bones crack. It's just turbulence. We're going to be landing soon.

Oh God, landing's the part I hate the most!

Is it just me, or has Scott been in the bathroom a long time?

Do you think he's okay?

I don't know, I'll…Oh.

What? What did you see?

He's flirting with the Busty Babe.

He is not. Let me see.

Okay, but don't be too obvious about it.

OH MY GOD!

Told you.

This is insane! This is crazy! This is…

Totally awesome?

Yeah!

Dear Scott,

A grasshopper walks in a bar. The bartender says: "Way to be a pimp, you old rascal you."

Love,

Ro.D and J-Dawg

FOR ROGUE! WHEN SHE GETS HOME!

ROGUEY!

We missed you SO much. We are so happy that you're safe and sound.

THAT BEING SAID, WE NEED TO TALK.

There are a lot of rumours flying around, Rogue.

YEAH, NOT ALL THEM ARE VERY NICE, EITHER.

We mean, they're more then the standard "Mutant teen saves the world" rumours.

WHICH, SPEAKING FOR MYSELF, I'M A LITTLE TIRED OF. SAVE SOME GLORY FOR THE REST OF US, WOULD YA?

So about these rumours…

DID YOU ACTUALLY HAVE SEX WITH JOHN ON A REMOTE SCOTTISH ISLAND BEFORE YOU INJECTED THAT STUFF INTO YOUR BODY?

Did you really take down Mystique and some of her cronies all by yourself?

DID SCOTT ACTUALLY WALK IN ON YOU MAKING OUT WITH AN INTERPOL AGENT?

Did you guys really blow up the whole lab?

ARE YOU ACTUALLY HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH THAT (MARRIED) CORRESPONDENT FROM THE WASHINGTON POST?

Are you actually asking these questions, Jubilee?

ARE YOU ACTUALLY SURPRISED, KITTY?

Actually…I would like to know what's going with John. Is it true he's coming back?

OH MAN, I CAN'T WAIT TO GET MY HANDS ON THAT GUY.

Bobby's going to freak.

EVERYBODY'S GOING TO FREAK.

I guess he did sort of help save the world.

OH COME ON. WE BOTH KNOW IT WAS ALL ROGUE.

We're sure you're going to be tired when you get back

YEAH, SO WE WONT COME BUG YOU TO TELL US EVERYTHING UNLESS YOU REALLY, REALLY, WANT TO.

Yeah. Just to be clear, though. WE really, really want you to.

REALLY, REALLY.

We're so glad you're back.

Love,

Kitty and JUBES

Guys,

I'm glad to be back too. I am really tired, and my arm is killing me, so I think I'm just going to go to sleep…

Oh, forget it. Come on over.

Rogue

Rogue,

I was going to write you a letter telling you how mad I was at you. What were you thinking, running off and practically killing yourself like that? You had me scared half to death when I got your e-mail.

But honestly, now I'm just so glad you're okay that I'm prepared to forgive you. On one condition…

Attached to this letter are 3 tickets to my play. Well, not MY play, specifically, but the play I've been working on since the beginning of time. I can't believe it's in two weeks! Anyway, I would love it if you came to see it. I included the extra tickets in case you wanted to bring friends, but I can send more your way if you want.

And I was thinking maybe afterwards you could come to the after-party? You might think it's totally lame, what with the fact that you've just saved the world and everything, but it's usually pretty fun (by Westchester standards). I can guarantee some under-age drinking and at least some kind of make-out drama (usually involving Mariella and Hot Thomas, but since Hot Thomas graduated this year, who knows?). Either way, I'll be there, and that's all you really need, right?

And OH MY GOD I can't believe I'm talking about my stupid play when you've just saved the world. You must think I'm such a spaz. Maybe you're beyond this whole "high school drama" thing? I'm not sure. Hmm. Now I'm re-thinking this entire letter, from the content to the syntax.

WHATEVER, I don't care. This letter was really just to say I'm glad you're alive and welcome back, and for heaven's sakes CALL ME when you get it, because I need to hear what REALLY happened, not this garbage they keep spouting on the news.

Love and ice cream sundaes,

Keltie

P.S. I can't believe I'm saying this, but if you want to send one of those tickets John's way, I can't say I'd be totally opposed to him being there. DON'T LAUGH.

Dear Keltie,

Are you serious? I'd love to come to your play! John's leaving tomorrow for San Diego, and I'm not sure when he'll be back, but I'll ask him. I have so much to tell you. Do you want to meet up for coffee tomorrow and I can finally tell you everything?

(oh, and FYI, you've been thoroughly vetted by just about every intelligence organization in the Western world, and have apparently been found to be no threat)

Let me know!

Rogue

Rogue,

I'd love to, but I am so insanely busy with the play that I can't! As soon as it's done?

I kind of have some stuff to tell you too, but I don't know if you would even be interested?

Keltie

Keltie,

Are you insane? Of course I'm interested! Tell me tell me tell me tell me!

Rogue

Rogue,

How's the arm doing? I'll bring the car around front at 3, so we can make it into the City for your appointment.

Logan

Rogue,

I read online that eating a balanced diet will heal bones faster. Stop eating so many of those chocolate peanut butter cups and have an apple.

Logan

Rogue,

Okay, okay. I'm sitting back stage right now, drinking a Fresca and writing this. I'm supposed to be taking notes on how everyone is blocking, so that our director can yell at everyone about it later. Obviously writing to you is way preferable, so here I am!

The play is in one week! Ahhh!

Okay, so a LOT happened while you were off saving the world. First of all, Ben and Leah had a massive fight, and basically broke up.

!

I know!

Don't worry though, they are probably going to get back together.

So what happened (as far as I can tell) is this:

After Ben and I had that talk, and he admitted that he had been a moron, he decided to go and talk to Leah about it. Only, because he's a boy, instead of saying something like "Hey, we never hang out with Keltie anymore. What do you say we cut out some of the excessive PDA and include her in some of the stuff we do?" he went up to her in the hallway (before her math midterm, no less!) and said "Why are you being such a bitch to Keltie lately?"

Boys, huh? You can't live with 'em, you can't kick them through a brick wall. (Well, you could, probably.)

I was sitting in the library, unawares, while all this was happening. I had just gotten your email and was freaking out, trying to decide what I should do. Francine Brenning found me in there. Apparently she hadn't gotten the memo that I was a social pariah, and no longer on speaking terms with Leah, because she told me that Leah was crying in the ladies room and that I had to come, quick.

Honestly, I was still reeling from your message and in no mood to help Leah at all, but since worrying about you in the ladies room was no worse of an option than worrying about you in calculus, I followed Francine back to the third floor.

Leah was indeed crying. On the floor. Against the wall. When she saw me, she narrowed her eyes and said "What, are you here to ask me why I've been such a bitch lately, too?"

My eyebrows rose involuntarily, because at this point I didn't know Ben had talked to her ("talked" to her). "No," I said. Francine chose that moment to back out of the ladies room awkwardly.

Leah started crying harder. I didn't know what to do, so I leaned against the counter and stared at the fascinating pattern on the tile floor. I wondered where you were and if you were even still alive, and I hated Leah a lot for being such a drama queen when so many more important things were happening outside of the brick walls of this prison/school.

When she started to breathe a little more normally, I glanced at her. "Why have you been such a bitch lately?" I didn't say it in an accusing tone. I really wanted to know. I knew that Ben hadn't cut me out on purpose, and that a good deal of my social pariah-hood had been of my own doing, but I hadn't imagined the coldness I'd been feeling on her end.

She didn't answer, just stared stonily at the wall. I rolled my eyes. "Fine," I said, pushing myself off the counter. I was heading for the door when she said my name.

"What?" I turned.

The look on her face now was one of guilt. "I was jealous."

I crossed my arms. "Jealous. Of what?"

"Of you. I wanted Ben all to myself and I didn't want to share him. Even with you."

"That's really dumb, Leah."

She looked down at her hands. "I know."

We were silent for a moment. "I don't get why that meant you had to be so mean to me." I said finally.

Slowly, her eyes met mine. "It wasn't just that. I felt…I felt guilty. I pushed you away."

"Guilty because you didn't want to share him?"

"Guilty because I knew how you felt about him."

I felt my stomach drop into my chest. "W-what? You mean 'cause he was my best friend?"

Her eyes softened, into a look that was so close to pity it made me want to punch a wall. "It was more than that. You had…feelings for him."

I shook my head. "No, I didn't."

She looked unsure, and at first I thought I had almost covered convincingly, until she said "I found the letter you wrote to him." She glanced away, almost like she knew how red my face was getting and didn't want to embarrass me more. "It fell out of your binder that time you came over to do that project on the UN. I know I shouldn't have read it, but once I did…well, I couldn't unread it. I didn't know what to say."

I remembered the letter, and the project. I had always assumed I'd thrown the letter out. The idea that Leah had read those lame, sappy words made me want to throw up, or die, or both. I considered turning around and walking out, but I didn't. I don't know why.

"I've been a terrible friend," she said softly. "I just…I liked him so much and I knew that you're not supposed to go after the guys your friends like. But I did anyways. And because I felt so guilty I tried to convince myself that it was okay. You were acting so weird anyways that it wasn't that hard to just…keep pushing you away."

"You should have told me," I said, my voice almost choked up. "I would have understood." Lie. "I would have been okay with it." Another lie. "It would have been better than the last three months of solitude." Well, that at least was true.

She started crying again. "I've missed you so much."

I didn't say anything, because even though I'd missed her too, I was still bitter and resentful. She'd basically stopped being my friend over a boy. Everyone knows that you just don't do that.

"Is there any way," she sniffed. "We could start over?"

I picked at a loose piece of the linoleum countertop. "I don't know. Maybe. I have a lot on my mind right now." At that moment it occurred to me that it was time to contact your Professor. I hadn't wanted to, at first, because I didn't want you to get into trouble, but then I realized how stupid that was. "I have to go."

After that it was a lot of running around and scrambling while I found someone with a car willing to take me to your school (Jack) and a lot of confusion while I tried to get in and talk to someone (Professor Xavier) and a lot of yelling while everyone freaked out about how stupid you were (mostly Scott). But you already know all that by now.

When I got to school the next day, exhausted and tense because I had heard no news about whether you were alright, everyone was talking about Leah and Ben breaking up. At first, I was startled. And then I was surprised, but not by the fact that they broke up. It was because

a) It didn't make me feel anything. Seriously. I didn't feel a pang of longing or hope or anything.

b) I dimly realized that Leah had probably broken up with Ben as a way to prove that our friendship meant something to her. I knew it was probably my responsibility to tell her that she was being ridiculous, but…

c) There were so many bigger problems in the world, and this one didn't even make this list of things I was concerned about.

I went to class and I worried about you. At lunch, I was at my locker getting my books, when Leah approached me. Before she could open her mouth, though, my cell phone rang. It was Kitty, telling me that you had been found and you were alive. I put my hand over my eyes and started crying.

"Keltie?" Kitty said.

"Yeah," I said shakily. "I'm here."

"Are you okay?" asked Leah. She put her hand on my shoulder.

Kitty was saying something. "…in the hospital in Glasgow, but they're alive. I'm not supposed to tell you anything else, but…"

"Did it work?" I asked.

"Turn on the news," Kitty said, but she sounded like she was smiling so I knew the answer was yes. I hung up the phone, and turned to Leah, who still looked concerned.

"Come on," I said, and grabbed her hand. I walked into the student lounge, where a group of seniors were gathered around the tv. I sank into one of the couches. Leah sat down next to me, still looking concerned.

"Keltie," she started.

"Shh," I said. "Watch."

As we watched the news come in, the lounge started to fill up. We watched as news helicopters flew over the smoking lab in Scotland, as reporters tried to yell questions at Scott as he left the hospital, and as government officials in Washington tried to make sense of everything. Mostly, we watched person after person talk about their loved ones with the Virus, and how your actions had saved their lives.

Rogue, honestly, I don't think I realized what a big deal this all was until that moment. I can't even tell you how proud I am.

I cried again after the third straight interview with a mother whose child had just been cured of the virus. Leah hesitated, then put her arm around me.

Anyway, that was two weeks ago, and I wouldn't say things are back to normal—Ben is shooting hurt puppy dog looks at Leah on stage as I speak—but maybe I don't want them to go back to normal. I feel like I've aged years since New Years Eve, but in a good way. I've missed Leah's friendship, but I've realized that I don't have to rely on it anymore. I've also (mostly) figured out a passion that I have. I think if I don't become a paramedic, maybe I'd like to be one of those people who find people after avalanches, or something. It would definitely be a good reason to get a very big dog!

I've decided to actually get my lifeguard certification this summer, so I can practice saving people as quickly as possible.

So that's what happened while you were off saving the world! It's certainly not as exciting as what you were doing (which I can't wait to hear all about) but it's what happened.

Uh-oh. Our director is coming back here to see my notes. Gotta go make some up now.

Love and mocha lattes,

Keltie

P.S: What's going on with Logan? Has he declared his undying love for you yet?

Keltie,

Wow! I can't believe that Leah apologized.

I'm really happy that you're getting your friends back. I know how hard the last couple of months have been for you. And if "back to normal" isn't what you want, I completely understand!

Everything here is good. My arm is starting to heal and the doctor says the cast can come off in a couple of weeks. It was pretty chaotic the first day back—everyone wanted to know what happened, and some people (Bobby) were freaking out over John being back, and some people (Kitty and Ororo) wanted to yell at me for being so reckless, and some people wanted to apologize for yelling and give me a hug (Kitty and Ororo again). Jubilee wanted to know the full list of boys I wanted to kiss now that I could do so without killing them, and Peter wanted to ask for my hand in marriage (he was just kidding, but he was extremely grateful, and he had an actual ring and everything, which, thinking about it, is kind of strange).

As for Logan, he's been very…helpful. He drives me to my physio appointments in the city, and he helps me bring my books to class. But it's awkward, and we don't really talk, and I'm starting to wonder if the painkillers they gave me in the hospital made me hallucinate that I told him I loved him. Several times. Because how can you tell someone you love them without them, I don't know, RESPONDING?

Remember how you once said my life should be a movie? If my life were a movie, it would be a boring one. If my life were like a movie, it would have been Logan who found us on that cliff, and he would have taken me in his arms and told me how he thought he had lost me. I'd have tears sparkling in my eyelashes and my cheeks would be delicately flushed and I would have looked heartbreakingly heroic.

It would have been HOT, right?

But because I'm me, I have to settle for awkward silences and hastily scrawled notes instead.

Oh, because that's right. Suddenly Logan thinks he's Shakespeare. I can't even remember the last time we had a whole, normal conversation, now that he's taken to writing. All he does now is write notes. Good for him, I guess, except I'm pretty sure when he's not writing me notes about where he'll meet me after class (so he can carry my books and NOT TALK TO ME), he's writing letters to himself, trying to convince himself of all the reasons he can't have feelings for me.

Either that, or he's writing letters to me, trying to let me down gently.

I honestly don't know which I'd prefer. Either way, I get screwed. Not in the good way.

Anyway, I have tons of homework to catch up on, so I'm going to get back to that. Good luck with play rehearsals and I'll see you next week!

Love and rubber duckies,

Rogue

Logan,

As much fun as this whole note writing thing has been, do you think maybe we could hang out normally tonight? You know, have an actual conversation? About anything. Even hockey. You can teach me which team is better: the Montreal Canadiens or the Toronto Maple Leafs?

Let me know,

Rogue

ROGUE! Look at this note! Over here on your pillow!

First things first: I'm sorry. For a multitude of things, which I would really appreciate the chance to explain in person. Would you like to go to a movie with me tonight, and then after we can talk? Just as friends, I promise.

Love,

Bobby

Bobby,

Sure. It doesn't look like I'm doing anything else tonight.

Rogue

Rogue,

Didn't get your note till it was too late. I'll meet you in the garage tomorrow to take you to physio.

Logan

P.S. I guess you were being sarcastic when you said I could teach you which team was better.

P.P.S. Do you really not know?

P.P.S. Maybe we should talk.

Dear Keltie,

I know you're really busy with the play, and I'm going to see you this weekend anyway, but I just HAD to tell you this:

Several really weird things just happened. I was heading down the stairs to the main hall just as Kitty and Jubilee were getting back from the mall. Pete walked in just as I reached the landing, but before I could say hi, he got down on one knee in front of Kitty and pulled out a ring (the same ring, I might add, he used to fake-propose to me). Jubilee shrieked so loudly that of course, everyone in the common room and kitchen ran into the hall to see what was going on—including Andrew.

Pete started going on about how he knew how much he hurt Kitty by going back home and not writing, but that he hadn't wanted to burden her with his sorrow. Since he had been back, his love for her had only grown, and given everything that had happened with his sister and Ms. Grey, he was realizing how short life really was.

I'm pretty sure we all stood there with our mouths hanging open while he made this speech.

"Katya," he said finally. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

This was followed by the longest stretch of silence you've ever heard.

Then three things happened in quick succession:

Kitty, a look on her face I can only describe as 'horror', let out a breath and said "No."

Andrew flew out of the crowd of people and punched Pete in the face.

There was a loud crunching sound, and Andrew shrieked louder than Jubilee

It was because Pete's face had broken Andrew' hand. He wasn't even using his mutation. Apparently his face is just that hard.

Logan, who came into the hall just in time to see this last part, yelled at everyone to get the hell out. He told Jubilee to take Kitty, who was standing there in dumb shock, up to her room. He told me to take Andrew down to the MedLab. I helped Andrew get up, and we walked toward the elevators. Before the doors closed, I looked back at Pete, who was still standing in the hallway, his face frozen. Logan was saying something to him, his hand on Pete's arm, but before I could hear what it was, they turned and started walking towards the kitchen.

After I dropped Andrew off at the MedLab, I intercepted Kitty and Jubes on the stairs. The three of us walked back up to our room, silently. When we walked in the door, Jubilee asked tentatively "Kit, are you okay?"

She dropped her bag on the floor and whirled around. "Guys, Peter left. He left, okay? I know he was going through all that stuff and I don't fault him for that, but you know what? I wouldn't have ever done that to him."

She sounded so angry, and hurt, that I put my hand on her shoulder. "I know, sugar."

She glared at me, tears in her eyes. "Do you, really Rogue? Cause I seem to remember you doing the exact same thing a couple of months ago."

"Um," I said, eloquently. It wasn't like I could deny it. Or like I could say I had thought about Kitty at all while I'd run away to Boston/kept everyone in the dark about how sick I was/decided to save the world with our former arch nemesis. "I'm so sorry, Kitty." I said, finally. "I know you wouldn't have done that to anyone."

It was like she deflated, all at once. "I loved him so much." She sank down onto my bed, tears streaming down her face. She looked down, pressing her chin into her shoulder in a half shrug. "I still do. But I don't think I'd ever be able to trust him again."

Jubilee and I glanced at each other. "What about Andrew?" Jubilee said.

"Do you love him the same way?" I asked

Kitty spoke slowly. "I don't know. I think I could. He's been here. He treats me like a princess. He would never hurt me like that. I think…I think that's what matters."

After she went into the bathroom to take a shower, Jubilee and I lay down on our respective beds. She passed me some gum. "It sort of makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

"About what?"

"Who it's more important to be with."

"You mean, someone who is there for you and takes care of you, or someone that makes your heart shudder in every good and bad way?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know."

"Which one do you think Logan is?"

I gave her a wry smile. "Guess."

"I'm sorry, chica."

I shrugged. "There are worse things in this world than having someone love you so much they'd do anything not to hurt you—even if it means not being with you."

Jubilee sent me her own twisted grin. "You really believe that?"

"I want to."

Anyway, that's what's happening. I suppose I could wait until tomorrow and just tell you in person, but I wanted to write it down. Something about writing to you helps me clear my mind a bit.

Tomorrow is your play! You must be so excited. I know I am. Kitty and Jubilee are coming with me to see it, and possibly Sean and Andrew, and I'm sure it will be fabulous.

Love,

Rogue

Dear Rogue,

The play is tonight.

Oh my God, it's TONIGHT.

I know that this whole time I've been acting like it's not important, but it actually means a lot to me. It seems like everything revolved around it this year—everything with Ben and Leah and Jack and a million other little things that never made it into my letters but were sometimes the only things to keep me going in the last few months (besides you, of course) and now the school year is coming to an end and the play will be done by the end of the week, and everything feels like it's just…ending.

It's weird, because even though I know I will be back here next year, it feels as though an era has ended, and a new one is beginning. I don't know what it will bring, but I have to believe it's going to be good.

My Dad is coming and so is Emma and so are a bunch of my family members. Which is stupid because I'm not even in the play, but it still makes me happy in a weird sort of way.

Okay, so I will meet you after the play is done in the atrium and you can meet everyone, and then we will head over to Gillian's for the after-party, does that sound good? It's usually a lot of fun and hopefully you wont find it lame and immature after all of your adventures!

It's going to be so much fun, I can't wait to see you again!

Keltie

Dear Keltie,

Your play was AMAZING! Seriously. I can't believe you had a part in all of that. The blocking was quite possibility the best and most professional blocking I have ever seen in my entire life.

My only complaint was that there didn't seem to be very much chemistry between the two leads. I'm just saying…

I also can't believe that after-party. As if you were worried it was going to be lame! It was amazing. I've never been to a party that big before. I don't think I've ever been to a party at all, at least not one as crazy and awesome as that one.

You were right on all counts. There was underage drinking, and dancing, and some kind of making-out drama. Imagine everybody's surprise when it turned out that it was NOT Mariella and Hot Thomas who locked themselves into the coat closet, but you and Sean! Don't worry, I think the two of you looked adorable together, messy hair and all. I don't think Jack and Ben were very happy about the turn of events, however…

And as for the other event—well, I won't say too much as I don't want to accidentally incriminate you. But it was epic, just like you said it was. I don't even want to KNOW how you got all of those horses up the stairwell. I'm sure no one will forget that prank for a long time!

I hate to turn the focus back on myself (goodness knows I do it enough) but I thought I would give you an update on the situation here.

Kitty and Andrew are still together. She seems content, if not overly happy, and I think that's a good thing. Even though in my heart what I want for her is to find true, passionate love, I'm not sure that's what she really needs right now. We've all been through so much upheaval in the last year. And who knows? Maybe Andrew is the perfect guy for her after all.

Peter is still sulking, but he seems to be doing a bit better. I found him working on one of Scott's cars in the garage today, and when I asked him how he was doing, he smiled and shrugged. I was about to leave, when I asked him, on impulse: "Would you do it over?"

"Pardon me?"

I turned back to him. "If you could go back in time, would you do it over?"

He titled his head quizzically at me. "I did what I thought was right. My sister was sick, and I thought…I thought it was too much to ask of Katya, to…"

"Support you?"

He nodded. "I did what I thought I had to. I did not mean for anyone to get hurt." He paused, sighed. "I lost her." He said it almost like a question, and I nodded. "It is not an easy answer, would I do it over. Every choice is a lesson. But this…I still do not know the lesson. Maybe some people are just…" he waved his hand.

"Not meant to be?"

He shrugged. "Maybe there is no lesson."

As for Logan…he is still acting the same. Barely speaking. I feel as though all of the peace I felt in the hospital has evaporated. I really felt as though I had come to terms with our relationship, or lack thereof, and that everything would happen as it should.

Back here, though, I just feel antsy and impatient.

I tried to run a simulation in the Danger Room, just to burn some energy. Before I had even warmed up, Logan had disabled the controls. We had an all out screaming match, where he told me I was pushing myself too hard and I needed to wait for my arm to heal before I could use the room. I screamed right back at him. I all but called him a controlling jackass and it didn't even seem to faze him.

Part of me wondered why he didn't just offer to heal me. (Does that make me sound horrible? I hope not)

I think it's because he doesn't want me to know what he's thinking.

Back in the hospital, even with my zen-like attitude, I was so sure that if I just gave him enough time, he would come around.

But he hasn't. We've been back for over a month, and he's said a total of maybe sixteen words to me (minus the screaming fight). He's leaving the mansion for longer and longer periods of time, and I can't help but think it's only a matter of time before he leaves again. Probably to get away from the looks I keep trying to give him, and which he keeps avoiding.

I have to keep reminding myself that it has nothing to do with me. Reminding myself that I know I am worth it, that I have nothing more to prove. I know that.

Theoretically, I know that.

Anyway, I am sure you are relieved to be done with the play, and I am glad because it means we can grab coffee, and catch up for real!

I think we should still keep writing letters though. I think I would feel weird if I couldn't check my email or mailbox and see a new letter from you in there. What do you think? Coffee Thursday?

Love,

Rogue

Dear Rogue,

Did you know that Starbucks over-roasts their coffee? Yeah, apparently because they get beans from so many places, it would be impossible to perfectly roast all of them. So basically, when you drink Starbucks, you are drinking burnt coffee.

That being said, I am seriously craving a caramel macchiato, so how about the Starbucks on Elk Road at 5?

I'm so glad you enjoyed the play! We got a lot of good feedback, and who knows? Next year I might even try out for a part.

Love,

Keltie

P.S. Sorry this letter is so short. Out teachers are already piling on the homework in preparation for exams, even though they are like, WEEKS away.

P.P.S. You may notice that I have not mentioned Sean, Jack, or Ben in this letter. It is because I have decided to take a break from boys, for a while.

P.P.P.S. Because I feel as though, of all of the amazing, wonderful things that have happened this year (meeting you, rocking the assistant directing, saving Johns life, hanging out with Emma), not a single one had to do with boys. But a lot of the really sucky parts did.

P.P.P.P.S. Not to say that I am avoiding boys because I am avoiding opening up and getting hurt (which is what Leah started to say when I first told her this, budding psychoanalyst that she is)(not). I have just decided that it would be to my benefit to maximize the awesome in my life and minimize the sucky. And right now, the awesome includes taking a summer course to become a lifeguard, acing my finals (hypothetically), dying my hair a crazy colour (maybe pink or turquoise?), and planning an amazing prank to pull next year.

Dear Rogue,

We see your dilemma, but we don't think that we can help.

To tell you the truth, we can't figure it out, and we don't think you're going to figure it out either.

It is perfectly possible that Logan is in love with you and is bidding his time, waiting for the right moment to sweep you off your feet.

It is also possible that he is just watching the hockey game.

You can sit there across the room and turn toward the couch as many times as you want on the pretext that you are checking the score. You can do that, Rogue. You can run through all of the evidence backward and forward and and inside out if you want to. You can stare very hard at the back of his head and watch as he notices nothing but the fact that the Canadians are about to get kicked out of the playoffs.

But you're not going to figure it out.

Yours,

The Society of Amateur Detectives.

Dear Keltie,

So, a couple of things have been getting to me today:

Studying: Is it so ridiculous that I should find it completely unnecessary to write exams? I'm pretty sure that I have already proved I am capable of living outside the four walls of a high school classroom. For example:

Algebra: If Plane A leaves Dulles Airport at 23:00 travelling west and Plane B leaves Heathrow at 08:00 traveling north, what time will you be able to infiltrate the Muir Island Research Facility? Answer: Whenever the guard starts reading his comic book and doesn't see the tranq gun pointed his way.

Chemistry: What two chemicals, combined, will create an explosion large enough to distract the other guards of said facility? Answer: No chemicals needed, just a lighter and a pyrokinetic partner in crime

Law and Politics: How many international laws were violated by infiltrating said facility? 17, depending on whether you recognize the authority of the International Criminal court. For the purposes of my own future, I chose not to.

See? I don't need to study.

Unfortunately, none of my teachers seem to agree.

I went for a walk after dinner tonight, hoping I could clear my head enough to sit down and study for my math final. As soon as it's done, Logan is supposed to drive me into the city so I can have my cast taken off. I can't wait. It's starting to get dirty and kind of smelly. Plus, I'm getting really tired of showering with one hand.

I was thinking a lot about lessons and doing the right thing and what you said, about maximizing the Awesome and minimizing the Sucky. And while I can't deny that some Sucky has resulted from Logan (angst-wise), most of the truly awesome things that have happened to me in the last year and a half have been a result of him. He brought me to Xaviers, he saved my life, he kicked my butt until I got strong. And he was my friend.

And I think I was a huge source of Awesome for him too. After all, if I weren't, why would he keep coming back?

Until I smelled the cigar smoke, I wouldn't admit that I'd been looking for him.

He was leaning against the boathouse, the blue smoke lingering in the cool evening air. I breathed in the familiar scent as I approached. The sun was setting behind the trees, casting a golden light onto the water.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey, yourself." He looked deep in thought, and the tone of his voice made it clear I wasn't welcome, though he'd never come right out and say it.

My better sense told me to walk away, leave him be. He'd make up for it somehow, I knew from experience, even though I didn't expect him to. But another part pulled me to stay, to push him. To see what would happen if I invaded his thoughts the way he invaded mine. That part won, and so my feet stayed planted on the ground, waiting and wondering how he would react.

"I…" I started, and my voice shook. The sound of it sickened me, and all I wanted was to be as confident and sure of myself as I was in the hospital. I wasn't though, and it must have been a combination of my frustration and my pride that defeated my best intentions. "I came out here because I wanted to tell you that…that you don't owe me anything."

WHAT. WHAT. WHAT. My brain screamed at me. That had not been what I was thinking at ALL, and somehow, that's what came out.

"I just mean," I babbled, when he didn't respond. "If that's what you've been thinking, that you owe me, and so you should just give me what I want, I'm here to tell you that…that that's not what I want."

Panic alarms were screaming in my head by that point. The force that had been holding me there snapped and just like that physics law I can never remember the name off, I felt compelled to turn and run back towards the mansion.

"Forget it," I said. Tears burned in my eyes, and I was about to turn and leave, when Logan finally spoke.

"The thought hadn't occurred to me." He said.

"What?"

His upper lipped twitched. "That I might owe you. Hadn't crossed my mind."

"Oh," I said, looking down at the ground, then back at him. "Good. I..it was a stupid thing to say. I—"

"Maybe it should have."

"Logan—" I went to him, and grabbed the hand that wasn't holding the cigar. "You shouldn't. Of course you shouldn't. That wasn't what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

"I don't know. I just…" I took a step back, and tucked my hair behind my ear. I'd already gone this far…

"Logan, I told you I loved you. Twice, essentially. And I might have thrown up the first time, but I meant it. And you…you didn't even say anything."

"What am I supposed to say?"

I almost laughed and rolled my eyes. "You're not supposed to say anything. I just…I just had to come out here because it seems like you've been thinking a lot, and you've been writing a lot, and I just had to make sure…I had to know if you're even thinking about the possibility of you and I being together, or if this is it." I paused, and I thought about what Pete had said earlier. "Are…are you even worried about losing me, at all?"

He swore, and shook his head. I backed up as he started to pace. "What do you want, kid? You want the guy who promised to take care of you, who would do anything to make sure you were never hurt, or do you want the guy who would throw that all away?"

"I just want you, Logan." My voice cracked, along with my composure. I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes, praying he would see it as a sign of frustration, rather than weakness.

"You don't even know who you're talking about, kid."

Just like that, my mood changed. I lowered my hands and glared at him. "No, I know who you are. Maybe you don't, or maybe you don't know who I am. Either way, you've answered my question. Neither of those are problems I can fix for you." I backed away again. "Consider this my white flag. I can't keep fighting for this. It hurts too much."

I turned and walked away, and then I went to my room and cried. And cried and cried and cried. I didn't actually know there were so many tears in my body. After about the fifth or sixth hour, I sort of thought I would have run out, but they kept coming. Kitty and Jubilee took turns trying to comfort me, but I really just wanted to be left alone. I kind of drifted in an out of sleep a couple of times, but as soon as I woke up, I remembered everything and fell apart again.

It hurts so much, Keltie. It's somewhere below my chest, this pulsing pain that won't go away and I'm not sure it ever will. I wish…I wish I could just pretend it away. I wish I could put on a brave face and suck it up and pretend I don't care. I used to be so good at that.

But I'm just so, so tired. It's taken everything I have just to write this letter. I don't even know how I'll get up tomorrow and get dressed. I'm supposed to go into the city and get my cast taken off, but all I want is to never leave my bed again.

That's not all I want. I want Logan to love me. But he doesn't, or he won't, and there is nothing I can do about it.

Rogue

Rogue,

To answer your question, no we can't reschedule. I had to get Ro to cover my math class. I'll have the car ready at 3 to drive into the city.

I couldn't care less whether you stayed in your pajamas or not, but you might want to think about the example you're setting for the younger kids.

Scott

Scott,

I am teaching them that there are more important things in life than physical appearance.

Besides, Jubilee says flannel is the new black.

Rogue

ROGUE! LOOK AT THIS NOTE! PINNED TO YOUR BACKPACK!

HAPPY CAST-OFF DAY!

TAKE A PICTURE OF YOUR SHRIVELED ARM FOR ME, OKAY?

SEE YOU WHEN YOU GET BACK!

JUBES

Dear Rogue,

Oh Rogue…Roguey…I wish I could say something to make you feel better. Anything.

He's an idiot. Really, Rogue, he is. If he can't see what he has in you…

But I know you know that. And I know nothing I say is going to make you feel better.

Why don't you come over tonight and we can have a sleepover and you can just cry if you want, and I'll sit with you and give you klennex and tell you cheesy puns, and even if you don't laugh maybe it will make you feel better?

You can stay for the whole weekend if you want, and maybe when you go back, you'll feel a bit better about the whole thing?

You are amazing and I promise you that everything is going to be okay.

Love,

Keltie

Jubilee, Kitty! Look at this note! Taped to the door!

Hey guys,

I am going over to Keltie's for the weekend. Don't worry, I'll be back.

Jubilee: Yes, my arm looks weird and shriveled. No, I don't have a picture

Kitty: Yes, I'm fine.

Everyone else: Mind your own damned business.

I'll see you guys on Sunday and we'll study for Algebra.

Love, Rogue

Dear Rogue,

Welcome back!

You had a good weekend at Keltie's—you watched cheesy movies, consumed way too much coffee, and even found yourself laughing a few times. Keltie got you drunk on wine coolers and the two of you made up some truly terrible choreography to a Taylor Swift song.

Shockingly, as you walk up the steps to the mansion, you realize that in fact, you are feeling a bit better. That in spite of your insistence otherwise, you are still a teenager, and allowed to feel like one.

Now, you are going to go inside and talk to your best friends, and probably end up talking and laughing and not studying at all.

And it will be okay.

Best of luck,

The In All Likelihood Everything Will Turn Out For The Best Club

Dear Keltie,

First of all, thank you so much for that weekend. It was exactly what I needed.

I probably shouldn't even be writing this letter. I'm in study hall, and if Scott catches Kitty and I talking again, I swear to God he is going to take off his glasses and literally stare us to death.

Have I mentioned that I hate exams? I am seriously considering some kind of revolt against the institution. What are they going to do to me? If my previous shenanigans haven't gotten me kicked out, I'm not sure anything will.

In other, non-rebellion news, I got a phone call from Jeremy Reese—he's a super hot reporter for The Washington Post. He wrote a thing a while back about John and I. It was so not a big deal—I didn't even read it, but I guess they want to do a follow up piece in a couple of months, and he wanted to know if he could come to the mansion. Of course I said no, immediately, but he kept calling and managed to get a hold of the Professor, who agreed. I know, I was surprised too, but I think there's been some negative backlash from the first article. I found an article in the newspaper (okay, it was a post on Tumblr) that was outraged that children were being trained as so-called "mutant assassins".

It's total BS, but I guess the Professor thinks it couldn't hurt to show him around and take a few pictures of the facility.

ANYWAY, Reese wants to take some pictures of John and I too (since everyone knows what we look like now, thanks SO much US Weekly.) And basically since my arm has been broken I've been slacking on my training and watching way too many reruns of Alias when I'm supposed to be studying. Which means, for the first time in my life, I'm actually starting to get a bit fat.

Put the phone down, Keltie. Yes, I will shut my stupid face.

My point is, I need to get back into shape before said article. Ugh. It was so much easier when Logan was training me, because I could pretty much eat whatever I wanted and be guaranteed to work it off in the Danger Room. But now Ororo's taking over my training, and she's a lot less, shall we say…demanding? She wants me to ease back into training, because my arm is still healing. Her idea of easing into it involves a lot of deep breathing, which is great and all but it's not going to get me into a bikini anytime soon. And hey—for the first time in my life I'll be able to wear one without worrying about accidentally killing anyone, so you better believe I'll be taking advantage of that.

Fortunately, we've had such a warm spring that the groundskeepers have opened the outdoor pool early. There is an indoor pool I was using all weekend, but it's usually full of kids and I'm convinced they spend most of their time either doing cannonballs or peeing.

As soon as study hall is done, I'm heading straight there. I'm hoping the exercise will help calm my head enough to study for my history final. It's my last exam—the last exam I'll ever take as a high school student.

It's kind of a strange feeling. I still don't know what I'll be doing next year. While everyone here was focusing on college and study-abroad applications, I was in the hospital, wondering if I'd even live long enough to see September. Now I don't know what I want to do.

Jubilee will be staying on and becoming an X-Man. Bobby and Pete are technically already X-Men, and so they're staying too, although Bobby is going to be taking online courses, and Scott is trying to convince Jubes and Peter to do the same.

Kitty will be heading to MIT for a degree in some really complicated computer-sounding thing, although I think she may be having second thoughts. She's talking about doing at least the first semester here in New York. She won't admit that her decision has anything to do with wanting to be near Andrew or a reluctance to leave home.

Technically, I guess I'm an X-Man too, although I always figured it was more of an honourary position. Now that I can control my mutation (and have some, ahem, actual hero experience) I feel way more confident that I can be a contributing member of the team. But the idea of university appeals to me too. Those weeks I spent trying to learn everything there was about mutations, and the complications it poses, legally—I loved that. I think I would enjoy studying those kinds of things (at least more than I would enjoy studying for my history final).

I don't know, Keltie…today I was walking through the halls, and the sun was shining through the windows, and suddenly I started laughing, I felt so overwhelmed by possibilities—it was such an amazing, and new feeling. Like I can be anything, and go anywhere I want.

Oops, study hall is over! I'm going to go swimming but I'll drop this in the mailbox on the way. I hope your exams are going well and that you have had a chance to relax now that the play is over.

Love and suntan lotion,

Rogue

Rogue,

That was very smooth of you. How you didn't mention Logan at all in that letter to Keltie. We see what you're doing, and we applaud your effort. We see you doing everything in your power to pretend that you're not heartbroken.

Let's tally up all the things you didn't say, shall we?

You didn't tell Keltie that there is a physical ache inside of you that has nothing to do with broken bones and everything to do with a broken heart.

You didn't tell Keltie that while you had one lovely moment in the day that was filled with optimism, most of your days are filled with an indescribable sense of deep disappointment.

You didn't tell Keltie that you're probably going to fail your history final, and if that's the case, you probably won't graduate at all.

You didn't tell Keltie that while you now feel as though you could go anywhere, you also know that you'd rather stay here. That you've always wanted to stay here, because this was where Logan was. And you'd always sort of suspected that he felt the same way.

You didn't tell Keltie that Logan left, as you were worried he would. You didn't tell her that you only happened to glance out your window to see him taking off on his bike, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. You didn't tell her that he didn't bother to say goodbye. You didn't tell her how much it hurt.

Most of all, you didn't tell her how mad you were, not at him but yourself, for being so affected. You didn't tell her that for the briefest of moments, you considered touching someone, anyone, just so you could have thoughts in your head that weren't your own.

Sincerely,

The Association of Lying Liars Who Lie

P.S. This information provided for your own purposes. Any judgmental tone is purely accidental.

P.P.S. But really, Rogue? Get it together.

Dear Rogue,

Aren't you tired of all the up-and-down, back-and-forth, will-they-or-won't-they, he-loves-me, he-loves-me-not, happy-then-sad, absolute rollercoaster of emotion that has been the last 6 months?

We know we are.

Sincerely,

The Young Romance Association

This heat is horrible! I'm dying. Like, literally dying.

Hold on…is Katherine Pryde actually using the word "literally" figuratively?

No…I literally am dying from this heat. It's freaking MAY. My hair is frizzing up like crazy!

I love it.

Only because you get to bare your midriff and no one can say boo about it to you.

I can't even apologize.

How is the studying going?

Horrible. Really, really, terrible.

You know, I'm pretty caught up on my reading…maybe if I concentrate on it, and you touch me…

No!

Okay, it's just a suggestion.

Honestly, I'd consider it. I AM considering it…

Holy crap, how did Scott do that?

I have no idea. We didn't even DO anything, and he was right there, like he knew what we were thinking about.

Do you think Scott has some latent telepathy abilities we just don't know about yet?

I think the Professor probably told him.

What a snitch.

Dear John,

It feels very weird to be writing those words, almost like I am trying to let you down gently, or something. Like you are a travelling soldier, and I am a lonely war-bride left to sit at home and weep over my needlepoint.

Or something.

Dear John,

Unfortunately, your absence from this country will no longer be tolerated by this institution (AKA, our marriage) and as such, you will cease being a partner in said institution, effective immediately. Should you need to contact me, I will most likely be fornicating with your best friend.

Sincerely,

Your wife.

Okay, that was weird. Apparently studying for history made me go a little bananas.

How are you? Are you having a good time…wherever you are now? Where was it this time? Malaysia? Thailand? I can't keep track anymore. Wherever it is, I hope the food is good, the ladies are loose and the souvenirs are cheap…'cause I totally expect a present when you get back.

I'm sorry I've been so crap at keeping in touch. To be fair, though, it has been FOREVER since you last called. (I know, you're probably going to say "Rogue, it was five minutes ago," or something ridiculous like that, but I know it's been at least a couple of weeks, and it feels like a lot longer)

You asked me to keep you updated on the Logan situation (P.S. You're a girl) and while I was going to send you a huge long letter with all of the ups and downs (mostly downs), I just didn't have it in me.

So instead I will tell you about my swim yesterday.

First of all, it is absolutely beautiful here. It's the beginning of May, and it already feels like July. Its hot—humid hot, which is fine because I grew up with humidity and it doesn't bother me as much as it bothers Kitty and Jubilee (who are being total babies about it, BTW). It's so hot that I can swim outside, which is wonderful.

Yesterday, I was freaking out mildly because I hadn't studied nearly enough for my history final. When we came back, Scott gave me a PILE of reading to do and told me if I spaced it out, I would be ready to take the exam with the rest of the class.

Soo…Obviously that worked out. As of yesterday morning, I had read exactly none of it. Every time I sat down with it, I panicked at the thought of how much I had to do. So instead I'd make the super responsible choice of doing anything else at all. It was pathetic.

After dinner last night, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to go swimming, in an attempt to clear my head. I have also been thinking about Logan way more than is probably healthy, which isn't helping matters. I got into the water and started doing laps. As I swam, I started thinking about the questions on the review sheet Scott handed out a few weeks ago (and which I had helpfully only looked at earlier that afternoon. At first, it made me want to cry because I didn't know any of the answers (What was the biggest impact of the Antiquities Act on Teddy Roosevelt's presidency?) but as I swam, I started thinking through them. And I realized that I knew a lot more than I thought I did. To be fair, most of the knowledge was probably not my own. But hey, the Professor might be able to stop me from stealing knowledge during exam time, but he can't do anything about the knowledge that was already there.

I started feeling better, and I swam harder, and even though I'm a lot slower than I used to be, thanks to my arm, I felt so much stronger than I have in a while.

And then I looked up, and Logan was standing there.

I swallowed some pool water, I was so surprised. I opened my mouth to say…

To say a million things, I suppose. But I closed my mouth, and instead I waited.

The sun had gone down by that time, and the turquoise light from the pool reflected off his face, making him look, if possible, more uncertain than he already did. I was treading water, wondering if I was seeing things or if he really was standing in front of me. Finally, I couldn't take the silence any longer, and I said "I thought you left."

He took a step closer to the pool. "I did."

I cocked my head, waiting him for elaborate, but he didn't. I recognized the significance of the moment, that he had come to me, rather than the other way around, but I refused to think about what it meant. I refused to get my hopes up again. I swam over the side of the pool and rested my arms on the concrete, looking up at him. "Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you come here for a reason?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You want me to go?"

My head jerked back an inch. "That's not what I said." Then I rolled my eyes. "Why does this happen to us?"

He sighed, and bent his knees so he was crouching in front of me. "Beats me, kid."

I rested my chin on my forearms. "You've never had trouble talking to me before."

He rubbed his hand over his face. "Things are different now."

I thought about this, and shrugged. "Maybe they don't have to be?" I hated how small my voice sounded, how sad and needy and desperate. I knew, even as the words were coming out of my mouth, that it was impossible. We would never go back to how things were before.

He was silent, again, and finally the silence got to me. I started getting angry, all over again, which was the last thing I wanted. A million questions flew through my head, but they all boiled down to one thing: Why didn't he want me?

I couldn't ask. I had asked, in various ways, since the night I told him I loved him, and he hadn't given me a satisfactory answer yet. Frustrated, I pushed myself up and out of the pool. Dripping, I walked past him to the lounge chair where I'd left my towel. I turned around as I wrapped it around me. "What are you scared of?"

My voice was stronger that time, and it sounded more like me. I could hear the anger and frustration in my voice, but I wasn't sure if he could. I didn't even know how he would take interpret the question.

"Your honesty?" He said, only I didn't hear him properly, so I said: "Yes, honestly."

"No…it's your honestly I'm scared of."

"I don't…"

"You're so honest with me and with yourself, and it's sexy as hell but it's intimidating too. You're so vulnerable, Rogue, you always have been, and it's terrifyin'."

"I still don't understand." He was not describing me. He couldn't be.

"Most women just aren't like that. They hide their anger and their pain, and I get it because it's about survival and it's about pride. But you open yourself right up to me and you tell me exactly what you're feeling and I can't screw around with that. I can't pretend I don't notice because it's right there in front of me and…I don't know what to do with it."

"You don't want to be with me because you can't screw me around?" I shook my head. That was messed up in so many ways and I just didn't want to hear it anymore. Not when it was just another reason, another excuse.

"No."

"Logan."

"I want to be with you."

"Wha…what?" My head flew back. I had not been expecting that, at all.

He walked over and put his hand against my cheek. My body froze.

"I want you, all of you. I just don't want to hurt you."

"Is that inevitable?"

"I dunno."

We stood there, his hand on my cheek, my breath caught in my lungs like it didn't know where to go from there anymore than I did. I looked into his eyes and tried to see past them, into his soul maybe, but probably that kind of thing only happens in movies because all I could see was myself, reflected back. Finally I let out the breath, lifting my hand to cover his. He didn't say anything, which gave me a chance to think.

Because a part of me was hesitating. A part of me was remembering the pain of the last couple of weeks, of what felt like a hundred different rejections. A part of me wondered if this—whatever this was—would stop me from doing all of the things I had realized were a possibility this week. College. Travelling. Becoming an X-Man.

As I looked in Logan's eyes, I realized that he had thought the same things. And I remembered what I told Jubilee a few weeks ago: That there were worse things in the world than having someone love you so much they would do anything not to hurt you. Logan hadn't wanted to hold me back either.

"I don't care." I squeezed my eyes shut. "I don't want to risk losing you but I don't want to live my life running from anything that might hurt. After everything that we've been through, that we've seen…we live our lives dealing with pain. Especially when I want you so badly…I have to believe it's worth it."

I opened my eyes and looked at him. His lip quirked and I found mine doing the same. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from leaning in and closing the distance between our mouths.

"When do you leave for Alaska?"

I cocked my head, surprised. "Right after exams."

"I want to go with you."

"Really?"

"Really. If you'll have me."

"I'm flying. I know you hate flying."

"I'll deal with it."

"Are you sure?"

"Would I say it if I wasn't?"

"Okay."

"Okay, yes?"

"Yes."

"Okay." His hand dropped and he stepped away. "You should probably go study."

I almost laughed. As if I would be able to concentrate! But I nodded. "You're not going to change your mind, are you?"

He looked at me, his eyes looking more green in the watery light. I realized I had hurt him, and wondered briefly how many more times that would happen. Probably dozens.

"Are you?" he asked.

I suppose you could guess what happened after that. I floated back up to my room in a daze. The room was empty, which I was relieved to see. I knew I'd never be able to sleep if I had the opportunity to surgically analyze every aspect of the night. I stared at my history textbook, even flipped through a couple of the pages, but it was hopeless. I felt a twinge of worry—was I risking my future because of this? If I failed this exam, would I hate myself later?

The next thing I knew, Kitty was shaking me awake. Somehow I managed to get dressed and down to breakfast, and then to the classroom where the exam would be held. My stomach was twisting and turning and my mind couldn't stop replaying the scene from the night before over in my head. I tried to remember the significance of the National Security Act of 1947, but all I could picture was Logan's palm against my cheek, the way he had looked at me as I climbed out of the pool.

Somehow, somehow, I managed to fill in the answers on the exam. I waited until everyone filed out of the room, and I asked Scott if he would mind grading it right there. He looked at me a beat longer, and I felt my face flush, as though he had known what thoughts had been going through my mind, but he sat down with his answer key.

And I passed. Barely, but it was all I needed. I am officially a high school graduate. And I am as surprised as anyone about how much that means to me.

And I'm going to Alaska with Logan.

Because he wants to be with me.

John, I am so scared for a million reasons, only some of which I can begin to put into words. I think, over the next couple of days, I'm going to have to find a way to put them into words, so that I can make sure that this is the right decision.

But it feels right. I don't know any other way to explain it.

It's now after lunch, and I've spent the rest of the day writing this letter to you. Kitty and Jubilee are bugging me to go out and celebrate the end of our high school experience, but I wanted to finish this first. They don't know what could be so urgent that I needed to write to you right away.

If you haven't figured it out already, that means that you're the first person to know any of this. At least, you're the first person I've told (by the time you receive it probably the entirety of the western world will know, if we can rely on the Jubilee Broadcasting System to do its job).

I told you first because…well, I'm not going to get mushy here. If someone told me a year ago that you would be my best friend again, I probably would have punched them in the face. This whole year-this crazy, intense, messed up, amazing year—wouldn't have been the same without you. I love you Johnny, and I miss you a lot.

I hope you're happy. I know I am…not because everything is perfect, or because I think it will be. I'm happy because I am filled with hope, and possibility and a freedom I never knew was possible.

I can't wait to see what comes next.

Love and half-filled glasses,

Rogue

Dear Rogue,

Yes, we realize that things are going rather well for you. We realize that you recently attended a fantastic party, that you saved the world in an only moderately illegal fashion, and that you have garnered the admiration of millions of adoring fans while possibly achieving some degree of self-actualization, and that you are probably going to embark on a relationship with the love of your life.

But YOU realize, we assume, that NONE of this makes you into a teenager? You realize that you still fail to meet several of our regulations? You realize that things may be going well with Logan, but you won't have a clue what to do once he kisses you. What if he wants to have SEX, Rogue? What will-

Dear Association of Teenagers,

I am writing to let you know that I chose not to finish reading your last letter. I am also writing to let you know that I am no longer especially interested in your opinions. In the last few months you have been very helpful pointing out my faults, tripping me over every time I was about to feel happy, and making me cry into my pillow each night before falling asleep.

I am very grateful for this but I would like you to remove my name from your mailing list. Before we end our correspondence, you should know this: Last week I went to a party in my honour with drinking, dancing, and all my best friends in attendance.

Next week I am leaving for Alaska with the sexiest man alive, who I'm pretty sure is about to become my boyfriend. (Okay, so I don't know what to do if he wants to have sex with me. But has it occurred to you that maybe I want to have sex with him? And maybe you're not supposed to KNOW what to do? I think you just do it. I think I can't wait to do it, actually.)

I think I have not one, but two new best friends. (Okay, so one was my best friend previously, but still.)

When I get back from Alaska, I'm accepting a medal from the President for Exceptional Acts of Bravery. Because I just so happened to have saved the freaking world, and plan to do so several more times in the future.

And guess what? If your letters are any indication of normal adolescence, I don't think I want to be a teenager. Whatever I am now is so, so much cooler.

So if you'll excuse me, I would like to go to sleep.

Write to me again? I won't even open the envelope. I'll rip it into shreds and feed it to Kitty's new pet dragon.

With very best wishes,

Rogue D'Ancanto

A/N: Thanks so much for sticking it out this long :) I can't believe I actually finished something! Please let me know what you think in the comments!