If only she could fast forward time to get to tomorrow quicker – get to sleep faster- do anything to get this pain, this torture to stop.

She forced herself to breathe evenly, slowly, methodically, knowing that if she allowed herself to cry the pain could be - would be - much, much worse. She needed to remain calm. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks. She rocked back and forth in a fetal position within the dark closet of her bedroom, her windowless refuge. How long has it been? Days? Weeks? The professor had warned her that it could take a long time, had warned her that these headaches would be an unfortunate, but necessary side effect. It indicated that her mind was repairing itself, cementing the new blocks that the professor was helping to build, ensuring their permanence. She needed to be aware. No painkillers, no sedation. No respite.

He warned her that once he began, there would be no turning back. He would be ripping down her previously self-made defenses, to make room for the newer, stronger confines he would place within her mind. He had to take away what little control she had managed up to now, leaving her powerless to protect herself in the interim. If they stopped, her mind would be consumed by the many psyches that ran rampant within it.

He said it was up to her, but Rogue knew there wasn’t really a choice. She needed to control the many mutations she absorbed since her own mutation manifested itself. The personalities that accompanied them were gaining strength in her mind. The twisted cutlery in the kitchen, the burnt out back garden, the frozen pool, cars found on the school roof top… it was getting out of hand, and it had to stop. She needed to be stopped.

Professor Xavier knew that she knew this. She had offered to end it all. Scared but bravely accepting her fate. A part of her always knew that this would happen – and she was so tired of living the nightmare that her life had become. But he refused. Charles Xavier was determined to save her.

The professor began small, easily putting the human psyches into one box; those faint and weak traces of others who couldn’t claim her. Day after day, Dr. Henry McCoy monitored them both, keeping track of their vitals as they lay on separate beds, side by side in the sick bay. Most of the occupants of the school had no idea what was happening deep underneath the academy’s floors. No idea of what was at stake. The remaining X-Men who stood outside the enclosed room, each and every day, did however.

Kitty, Jubilee, Bobby, Piotr, Kurt, Ororo and Scott were very afraid for her. Each wanted to do more than just wait, each willing give their strength, their own mutations to save her. But they were also prepared to intercede – in whatever means necessary – should she lose control of the multiple mutations that the professor was attempting to rein in.

It made for little conversation between them.

Charles Xavier was strong and very, very powerful. Slowly, reassuringly, he moved forward - determined to win. The trapped psyches in her mind demonstrated their malevolence towards her, furious at being constrained. To prevent the most powerful ones from possessing her, the professor placed her in her own box, battling them in her place.

And her Inner Logan stayed with her, protecting her, knowing that it was during these times when she was the most afraid.

But only in here, a solitary voice reminded her, and she realized, with a start, that it was hers. That’s how she knew it working, when her thoughts belonged only to her.

Her Inner Logan couldn’t comfort her at night, and the real Logan had been gone a long, long time. Professor Xavier attempted to locate him but Cerebro was unable to pinpoint his location. And that could only happen if the Wolverine wanted it that way.

She bit down hard on her lip as the familiar ache thudded into her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter and refocused on her breathing.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

She tried to keep pace with the shards of pain that continued to stab her head, still tried to convince herself that she could become one with the pain. With a growing sense of horror, she could feel bile rise up inside her. She reached out for the bowl she kept next to her, despite knowing there would be nothing to fill it with.

Incredibly intense, excruciating pain exploded through her skull, her body twisting and bending into itself as she violently threw up nothing. She cried in earnest now, what little composure she had obliterated by the added agony. She whimpered, wanting to die, for her suffering to end.


Just. Please. Stop.


Time passed. The bowl slipped through her fingers and fell to the side as she felt it coming.


thankgodthankgodthankgodthankgod


A wisp of darkness from the back of her mind began to creep forward. Sinking into its nothingness, her last conscious thought was – as it was night after night – that she didn’t die this time; that she made it through another day. A ragged sigh escaped her emaciated form, and she passed out across the hard, mahogany floor.

Minutes passed. The closet door opened slowly, revealing the lithe frame of Kurt Wagner. Catching sight of her on the floor, her tear streaked face now peaceful in its unconsciousness, his frown deepened. Behind him, Scott Summers stepped into the darkened bedroom and pulled down the sheets of the bed, the shadows of the remaining X-Men pouring into the room from where they stood in the doorway.

Kurt gently lifted her into his arms, placing the young woman on the bed and Kitty Pryde pulled the sheets over her best friend. Gasping back a sob, she reached for Jubilation Lee’s hand and the two young women walked quickly away, Piotr Rasputin and Bobby Drake following, solemn-faced.

Professor Xavier sat down in the chair located by the bed; the light from the hallway disappearing as Ororo silently closed the door behind her. He took her gloved hand into his, his voice barely a whisper.

“I won’t lose you too, Rogue.”

Far off in the distance he could make out the outline of the mansion, the rising sun backlighting its massive structure.

Conflicting emotions ran through his mind as thoughts of its past inhabitant, Dr. Jean Grey, came unbidden to his mind. The woman he had loved. The woman who begged he kill her to save the world, to save herself. It took a long, long time for Logan to come to terms with the death of the beautiful red haired mutant by his own hand. It took even longer to know she never really wanted him, still loving Scott as she died in her killer’s arms.

His thoughts turned to Professor Charles Xavier and Scott Summers, the two men she had killed who shockingly came back to life because the Wolverine granted her wish. He slowed the motorcycle down, releasing the throttle as he frowned. Coming back was always double edged, all the ghosts of the past continued to haunt him despite the passage of time. Logan wanted to think he was coming home, but the Wolverine knew better. He had no home. Still not in complete possession of his past, still no closer to owning his future because of it. Still not whole. But he was tired and he needed comfort. He needed Marie.

Approaching the estate, he punched his code into the security pad, only a bit surprised it was still valid. He watched the heavy iron gates swing slowly open, revealing the long and winding driveway that would take him up to the school. Taking a deep breath, he moved forward, barely taking in the massive maple trees that ran parallel alongside him. They led the way, top heavy with crimson and copper foliage that had yet to fall to the ground.

He stopped about a mile shy of the entrance, choosing to walk his bike the rest of the way to the garage. It was early in the morning, the crisp, still autumn air carried sounds easily. Everything was quiet, peaceful, and he allowed himself a few moments of silence. It felt good to be back. He could pretend again for a little while that he belonged somewhere.

After locking up his bike, he walked in through the back door, key in hand, and headed straight to the library. He threw his duffle bag on the floor and sat in one of the leather bound chairs that occupied the large room. He didn’t need to wait long.


~ Welcome back Logan. ~


He smirked.


Thanks Wheels. Everyone asleep?


~ Not quite. Would you care for some breakfast? I do believe the staff already set out the day’s selection. ~


Logan shook his head although he knew the professor couldn’t see him.


No thanks – where’s Rogue?


The professor hesitated before answering. ~ Rogue is presently in the Danger Room. I must tell you Logan, she has…changed. ~


He already stood up and was storming through the halls to the stairs leading down to the Danger Room. He could barely register the professor’s voice in his mind over the loud beating of his heart.


~ Logan, she’s fine,~ the telepath reassured him, ~ I thought it fair to warn you that our Rogue is not the same young woman you last saw three years ago. I’ll leave you now and speak to you later. And again my friend, welcome back. ~


Logan felt the professor’s presence fade from his mind. He was now in front of the doors that led to the Control Room. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise a little. Just what did the professor mean by changed? The doors slid open and Logan stepped inside. What he saw made him stop mid stride.

On the other side of the Control Room’s specially made fortified glass, was a desolate landscape of a city in ruins, sporadic explosions temporarily blinding Logan from their intensity. He could barely make out the familiar giant-like forms of Sentinels through the smoky air, or rather, pieces of them, as they flew in different directions in various forms of destruction. Logan made his way closer to the glass, squinting to make out the small form that seemed to be in the centre of all this chaos. If he didn’t trust his senses so explicitly, he would almost doubt what he saw.

Suspended high in the air, throwing and tearing apart Sentinel after Sentinel with relative ease, was Rogue. Her face was twisted by rage as she effortlessly went through the army of metal giants. Logan quickly looked down at the control panel and realized that there was a Level Ten program in progress.

What the hell?

At that moment Rogue looked in his direction, and her body went entirely still.

Time seemed to stop as they looked at each other, each in their own shock. That’s when a large metallic fist pounded down on top of Rogue, hammering her straight to the ground, crushing the floor as she became invisible under a large rising cloud of dust.

“No!”

Six adamantium claws stabbed through the skin between his knuckles.

He raced to the Danger Room’s entry way, not bothering to ensure that the program had ended. The heavy doors of the Danger Room hissed open as he ran in, and he found himself surrounded by expansive, sleek metal walls. He stopped short when he didn’t see Rogue.

He felt a soft tap on his shoulder.

“Hi sugah.”

He leapt backwards, pulling her into a headlock as he landed, forcing her to the ground with his knee on the small of her back. Both her hands were trapped within one of his, which he had pressed high on her shoulder blades.

Breathing hard, he released the hold he had on her throat and demanded, “What the hell is goin' on?”

He heard her sharp intake of breath – was that annoyance? – before she informed him drily, “ Ah would much prefer to be face to face, if y’all don’t mind.”

She didn’t move a muscle and waited for him to release her. Which he did, sheathing his claws as he stood. Rogue grimaced and got up slowly, stretching her arms back into place after having both her shoulders almost dislocated by Logan’s pin on her. Rubbing her neck, she looked at him with a small smile on her face. “That was some hello.”

Wolverine didn’t smile back.

His eyes noted that her limbs were muscled, her physique lean. She wore a black training suit that covered her from neck to toe, her face the only skin exposed. Her deep brown, shoulder length hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, the familiar white streaks cut short into bangs across her forehead. She appeared amused by his inspection of her. His eyes narrowed and his jaw hardened.

“You haven’t answered me, kid,” he reminded her tersely, crossing his arms on his chest as he glared at her.

Hands on hips, her smile turned into a grin. “Pretty impressive, huh?”

He stood there, his face unreadable.

Rogue sighed, realizing that the Wolverine was not impressed after all. “Have you spoken to the professor?”

“Goddamnit kid,” he snarled, grabbing her arm forcefully. “Start talkin'!”

“Hey!” she objected, shaking him off as her own anger rose up quickly. “Who do you think you are coming into my Danger Room session, demanding anything? Know what Logan?” She paused and her own eyes narrowed.

“Fuck you.”

With that, she spun on her heel and left, leaving the Danger Room and him behind.

Logan stared at her retreating form.

*****

Wolverine made quick work of unpacking, having not much to unpack in the first place.

He appreciated that his things were still in his old room, untouched. After quickly inspecting the mansion, and familiarizing himself with the new scents that now inhabited the school, he made his way to the cafeteria. Several of the students stopped and gawked at him as he strode past them in the hallways, the mixed scent of their fear and awe both annoying and amusing.

He sat down with a plate piled high with bacon, steak, eggs and potatoes and dug in, pausing only to down full cups of coffee to help wash the food down. The large windowed room was about half full but quickly began to fill with students preparing for the new school day. Some he recognized, most he didn't. Three years was a long time in the lives of teenagers.

He saw Ororo make her way through the buffet. Done eating, he waited for her to notice him. And she did, her beautiful blue eyes first widening in surprise, then filling with warmth and affection. He stood up and grinned. Dropping her breakfast tray on the counter, she ran across the room and hugged him hard, exclaiming, “Oh my goddess Logan! How wonderful to see you!"

He lifted her easily off the ground and returned her hug. “It’s good to see you too, darlin’.”

Beaming at him as they sat across each other, she asked, “When did you arrive?”

“Couple of hours ago,” he told her, adding, “things look good around here ‘Ro.”

She nodded, accepting her tray of food from a passing staff member with a grateful smile. “Everything is running smoothly, yes. But we missed you.”

Logan grunted in response. Almost on cue, Cyclops walked in and looked in their direction. Straightening his shoulders, the X-Men leader marched purposefully towards them. Logan stood up slowly and waited for him to approach, folding his arms across his chest.

“Logan.”

“One-Eye.”

Logan kept his face expressionless. Scott wore a tight lipped smile as he held out his hand.

“Welcome back, Wolverine.”

Logan looked at Scott’s outstretched hand. Moments passed with neither man making a move. All eyes seemed to be on the pair of large men, the sounds of clattering dishes and excited conversation coming to an abrupt halt. Ororo rolled her eyes and tore into her muffin, shaking her head at the scene of male machismo before her. Suddenly, Logan grasped the other man’s hand and squeezed it. Hard.

“Thanks Slim.”

Scott returned the painfully tight hold on his hand. “Don’t mention it.”

“Go get yourself some breakfast Scott, and we can both bring Logan up to speed about the going’s on in Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, shall we?” Ororo looked pointedly at the students around them. Within moments, the room refilled with the sounds of eating youngsters. Logan released Scott’s hand with a lopsided grin and sat back down, lifting one of his legs to rest on an empty seat beside him.

Some things change, some don’t. Maybe now he would finally get some answers about Marie.

Rogue was angry. Very, very angry.


Who does he think he is? How dare he come back after three years, and treat me like Ah’m some little girl who jumps when he says jump?

Fuck. Him.


She quickly took a shower, scrubbing herself dry and tearing the brush through her wet hair. To think she was so happy to see him. She thought it was her imagination when she spotted him in the Control Room, old emotions rushing up and grabbing her by the throat when she realized it was really, truly him. Tears had blinded her, made her lose concentration. And she was hard pressed not to burst out laughing when she saw Logan tear into the Danger Room, claws out, unaware of her acquired invincibility. It took all she had not to hug him right there and then. She should have known his lightning quick reflexes would be used against her when she approached him from behind. That was her fault, absolutely. But she didn’t expect him to be so angry. Instead of being amazed by her new abilities, he was mad. And it hurt.


Asshole.


She was the one who had the right to be upset. Wasn’t he the one who always left without explanation? First when they had thought Jean drowned, and again when the Phoenix was destroyed? Wasn’t he the one who left after finding Scott alive at Alkali Lake? Wasn’t he the one who left again after they discovered Professor Xavier still alive, in the body of the professor’s brain dead twin brother in Scotland? Logan was always leaving, with no warning, sometimes with no goodbye. Except this time it was for over three years.


Three years.


No phone calls, no post cards, no nothing. Three birthdays, one high school graduation and one near death experience. All without him. And he expects her to be answerable to him?


Fuck. Him.


Rogue took a deep breath and willed her tears away, refusing to shed them. Why did she always allow him to do this to her? She wasn’t the same little girl with the huge crush on the big, strong Wolverine. She was a competent, strong woman. He wasn’t her guardian, he was her friend. A shitty one.

She stomped out of her room, grabbing her tote bag on the way out.



*****



Logan inhaled deeply from his cigar, releasing the smoke slowly, lost in thought as he tried to come to terms with what Scott and Ororo had told him.

Marie had needed him – badly – and he wasn’t there for her. He reacted – badly - when they told him that her life was in danger just six months prior. Their explanation that they couldn’t find him tore at him. Six months ago, he was in Madripoor, discovering a wife he couldn’t remember, and getting a divorce after he found out that he was tricked into the marriage, having a hell of a time to do it. Meanwhile, Marie had been in danger. And he wasn’t here, protecting her. Like he promised.

Scowling, he stubbed his cigar out on the stone bench he was sitting on. He clenched his hands into fists, his claws at the surface, itching to come out. He wanted to tear at something, anything.

Logan was angry. Very, very angry.

Angry that he wasn’t there for Rogue. Angry that he was an asshole to her this morning. Angry that he was angry.


Fuck.


Standing up abruptly, he put what was left of his cigar into the top pocket of his flannel shirt, and made his way back across the school’s grounds. He needed to speak to the professor, to find out where he fit now at the school.

And then he’d talk to Marie.



*****



“Miss Rogue?”

“Yes Amy?”

“I’m sorry.” Rogue looked up from where she was sitting with the other children, inside the playground sandbox.

She bit back a gasp, and calmly waited for the blue flames that were dancing along the edge of the playground to fade away, relieved that the other children didn’t notice. With a gentle smile, Rogue took hold of Amy’s hand and led her away from the small group, sitting down on the bench just beyond the playground.

“Amy, those blue flames were beautiful.” She held the little girl’s hand in between her gloved ones. Amy nodded her head up and down, although her big brown eyes were full of tears.

“But you’re not happy Miss Rogue, are you?”

Rogue glided one hand along the young girl’s soft blonde hair gently. “No, Ah’m not Amy.”

Amy looked down and began to fidget with the pink frills on her corded skirt with her free hand. “But my fire is so pretty.”

“Yes. It is pretty. It’s also dangerous."

Amy burst into tears and buried her face in Rogue’s lap. Rogue picked the little girl up in her arms, and gently rocked the child back and forth on her lap, making hushing sounds, and lightly rubbing her back.

“It’s scary, isn’t it Amy? Knowing you can hurt things, that you can hurt people with your pretty fire?”

The little girl nodded, her sobs subsiding. “But I’m getting better at controlling it, aren’t I, Miss Rogue?”

Rogue took the little girl’s tear streaked face into her hands and looked into her eyes. “Yes, you are baby girl. But no more playing with your pretty fire without telling me first, okay? Ah want you safe.”

Amy looked up. “I promise Miss Rogue.”

Rogue’s smiled. “Good girl. Now go on and have some fun! Afternoon break is almost over.” She watched the young girl return to her fellow classmates, disquieted. What was the professor thinking, having her watch over this special group of children?

These four children, between the ages of three to five, were unique amongst the students and not just because of their extreme youth. Usually mutations manifested themselves during puberty; or during a traumatic experience during pre adolescence. But these children were born with their mutations already active. Andrew and Christy were abandoned at birth, and Julian was hidden by his frightened family until the professor was able to convince them to release the boy into his care.

And then there was Amy. Whose family died in a strange blue fire that she miraculously survived as an infant.

Rogue blinked away tears, thinking of all the poor mutant children who had suffered and died at the hands of their terrified families. Professor Xavier actively searched them out with Cerebro, but he couldn’t save them all. They had only managed to rescue these precious four. More often than not, Cerebro would detect a new mutant energy only for it to disappear as quickly as it appeared, a young life extinguished. A new horror in an ever growing intolerant human society.


~ Rogue? ~


She wiped away the tear that managed to escape her eye, and stepped towards the children. Sorry Professor, Ah was just lost in thought.


~ It’s alright Rogue, I understand. I would like to speak with you when you are free to do so. ~


She looked up in the direction of Professor Xavier’s office concerned. Is something wrong?


~ No, not at all. Enjoy your afternoon. ~


Rogue gathered up the children from the playground and led them back to the preschool room, not noticing Scott watching her from behind the library glass window.



*****



“Come in Rogue.”

Rogue mouth twisted wryly, her fisted hand about to knock on the professor’s office door. She would never get used to telepaths. Opening the door, she stepped into the mahogany paneled room and smiled brightly at the man behind the desk. “Yes sir?”

Professor Xavier easily returned her smile, his affection for her evident on his face. “How was it today with our young charges?” he asked her.

Rogue settled into the chair he motioned for her to sit in. “Very good, actually,” she told him. “Amy is gaining strength in her fire abilities, she surrounded the playground with her flames in a perfect circumference today. She is growing leaps and bounds in terms of her control. Andrew and Julian’s mutations remain stagnant for now, and little Christy is exhibiting nothing outside of her physical mutation. They seem to enjoy the hour each day that I spend with them.” Her smile became even brighter. “So do I.”

“Excellent. Excellent.” He pressed his fingers together, got up, and came around his desk to stand in front of her. “And you, Rogue. How are you?”

Rogue looked up at him, puzzled. “Ah’m just fine, professor.”

He reached for one of her gloved hands and regarded it pensively. “How are your own control attempts?” he asked her softly.

Her smile became brittle and a shadow came down across her face. “You know the answer to that.” Feeling closed in, she pulled her hand away and walked away from him towards the nearest window. Looking outside, she spotted a group of teenagers playing basketball. Rogue watched them for a few moments as they jostled good naturedly, smashing into each other in their quest to gain control of the ball.

Charles Xavier watched as various emotions played over her face. Sadness. Anger.

Envy.

“I have access to Carol’s mutation, absolutely,” Rogue began slowly. “I can have her strength, invincibility, and her ability to fly whenever I want. “ She looked away from the teenagers and caught her breath when her gaze fell upon Logan, watching her from the garden below. Stepping back from the window as though burned, she looked at the professor. Taking a deep breath, she told him, “And Ah think Ah have the Wolverine’s mutation as well.”

The professor looked sharply at her. “What do you mean?”

She blinked rapidly, not sure how to explain. “For the past few weeks my sense of smell has been getting keener, my eyesight clearer. Ah can hear conversations being held in other rooms, and Ah don’t think Ah can bruise anymore.” She broke off, and then added quietly, “Ah can’t turn it off. It’s constant, just like my skin.”

Charles Xavier’s brow furrowed in concern. “How have you been coping with this new development?”

Rogue sat back down in the chair she had vacated earlier and sighed before answering, “It’s been hard not having my Inner Logan to talk to, losing him was a kind of death. He’d been a part of me for almost five years. I’m grateful that his nightmares are gone, but I miss him.” She remembered the sense of grief she felt when he disappeared willingly inside the box the professor placed in her mind for him. He had been the last to go. She shook her head to clear it, and looked back at the sympathetic man in front of her. “But you know professor, it reminds me of Dumbo.”

The professor’s brow lifted in surprise. He didn’t see that coming. Rogue laughed lightly at the expression on his face, and explained. “When the crows gave Dumbo that feather, it gave him the courage and confidence to fly. The Wolverine in my head was my feather. When he left, Ah was afraid at first, Ah felt lost without him.” She paused and looked at her mentor with a direct gaze. “But Ah am my own hero now.”

Professor Xavier looked at this twenty year old young woman with growing pride. To think they had almost lost her. He reached out for her hand.

“Good for you, Rogue.”

Marie blushed. Receiving praise from the professor was an accomplishment in itself. “Ah would prefer to come to terms with this new mutation myself, before it becomes common knowledge if you don’t mind sir.” She added ruefully, “There’s enough discomfort around me as it is.”

The professor nodded his head in understanding. “The Wolverine is on his way to speak with you,” he informed her. “I’ll leave it up to you to inform the X-Men when you are ready.”

Rogue turned to leave, her stomach twisting into knots. So much for being my own hero, she thought, picking up Logan’s scent as she stepped out into the hallway.



*****



She met him halfway down the stairs, him being on the way up, her on the way down. They stood there for a few moments, sizing each other up. Logan spoke first.

“We need,” he began, “to talk,” she agreed.

She continued past him and he followed her, through the side hallway, and out across the grounds to her favorite stone bench. She crossed her jean clad legs and sat down, pulling her dark green cardigan closer together in an attempt to warm up against the cooling late afternoon air. Looking down at her, Logan noticed her sweater matched her eyes. When did Marie get such pretty eyes?

Rogue watched the man before her carefully. He looked exactly the same as he did the first time she laid eyes on him, five years ago in that rough bar up in Alberta, Canada. Ruffled dark hair jutting off in points that made no sense but did on him; mutton chops that framed a perfect, chiseled face. Gorgeous hazel eyes outlined by thick eyelashes, topped by eyebrows that swooped up and out. And a mouth that was comprised of wide full lips that were moving, forming words that she realized she should be listening to.

“….no right to speak to you the way I did. I was surprised. I wasn’t thinkin’ straight and I’m sorry kid. “ He was standing in front of her with hands dug deep into his front pockets, legs spread apart. He was looking down at her intently, head in his familiar tilt, waiting for her response.

“Ah see.” Moments passed. A confused look appeared on his face.

“You see what?”

She shrugged and folded her arms across her chest. “You’re sorry about this morning. Got it.”

He was trying hard not to get annoyed. “That’s it?”

She nodded, and glared at him, unable to prevent the emotions she experienced earlier in the day from crashing over her. “You know Logan, you might live forever and because of that, a few years might seem like a few minutes to you. But to the rest of us, a year is a year.” Her eyes flashed. “Or three.”

He could smell the anger coming off her. He was surprised at how much there was. “I had things to take care of, kid.”

She stood up abruptly, and said through gritted teeth, “Ah didn’t know if you were alive or dead.”

He stiffened. “No need to worry about me kid.”

She could hardly believe her ears. “Oh? The all powerful Wolverine can take care of himself so he doesn’t need to touch base with anyone, right?” Her voice was shaking.

He lifted his head in confusion, still maintaining eye contact with her. “But you knew I would come back. I always do." His lack of understanding tore at her. He really didn’t get it. She closed her eyes and turned away from him. Suddenly the sight of him was very painful.

“Marie?”

He reached out to grab her shoulder, turning her gently towards him. “I know I let ya down. You needed me a little while back and I wasn’t here. Tell me what you need to make this right, and I’ll do it.”

She kept her eyes closed, not trusting herself to look at him, not trusting herself to speak. He continued to stand in front of her, concerned.


Isn’t this what Ah want? She thought to herself, Isn’t him coming back enough?


With a tremendous effort, she choked down her hurt, her swirling emotions, and looked at him. With a forced smile she told him, “It’s alright, Logan. Let’s start over, okay?”

Bemused, he didn’t know how to respond. He took hold of her other shoulder and pulled her closer, keeping his topaz eyes on her emerald ones. He knew she was holding back, but he decided to let it go. For now.

“Okay kid.”

He pulled her completely into his arms, and felt her relax against him as her gloved hands rested on his chest. As always, she was careful to not let the bare skin of her face touch his neck. After a few minutes, he heard her whisper in a tear choked voice, “Ah missed you.”

They stood that way for a long time.

The weather changed quickly, the trees became bare and stark from the loss of their leaves, and the sky was grey more often than blue.

Halloween came and went, and outside of a few missions rescuing adolescent mutants, things were like before. Wolverine reclaimed his position of Combat Instructor, freeing up Scott to return to English, Dr. Hank McCoy to Biology, and Ororo to Mathematics. Kurt was content teaching World Religions while Professor Xavier continued to teach Ethics and Philosophy. Rogue was a mentor to the youngest students as she took college correspondence courses. The remaining house staff was fellow mutants, cast off by society but finding a place there, in Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

Kitty and Jubilee visited on some weekends, both having chosen to go to college in upper New York State and Bobby and Piotr spent Thanksgiving with the X-Men, away from their West Coast colleges. Presently, the fulltime X-Men were Cyclops, Storm, Nightcrawler, Beast, Wolverine, and Rogue. And everything would have been perfect except for one thing.

Wolverine did not want Rogue to be an X-Man.

He argued that Rogue was too young and too inexperienced, but the other team members knew the real reason. Putting Rogue in dangerous situations went against every instinct Logan had, despite her arguably being the strongest of them. The discord began to create a rift between them.



*****


“Lay off, Wolverine!”

Rogue stormed out of the Blackbird, ears roaring as she tried to keep a lid on her temper. Logan followed close behind.

“How can I ‘lay off,’ kid if you keep makin’ stupid mistakes that get ya hurt! “ He was yelling, not in the least concerned about keeping a lid on his own temper.

She stopped abruptly and faced him, causing him to almost smack right into her. Eyes narrowed, she yelled back, “Ah do not make stupid mistakes! You need to stay out of my way!”

He leaned down into her face and snarled, “What you need, is someone to keep ya in line. Yer too cocky, Rogue.”

She pulled back, offended, raising her clenched fist to deck him. But her arm was caught by a big, blue, furry hand, and it strained with some effort to hold her back. “I apologize dear Rogue, but I must insist that you refrain from striking Wolverine, however warranted.” Both Wolverine and Rogue glared at Beast, and growled.

Wolverine turned sharply and gave Rogue a questioning look. She ignored him and stomped off, tearing off her gloves as she made her way to the women’s locker room.

“Wolverine.”

Logan continued to stare after Rogue, ignoring the X-Men leader.

“Wolverine!” Cyclops repeated loudly, causing the remaining X-Men to jump. Logan turned to Scott, scowling.

“Follow me. Now.” Scott instructed tersely, brushing past him down the jet’s ramp. Logan didn’t move for several moments before releasing a frustrated growl.

I don’t have time for this, he thought testily as he strode after Cyclops.

Scott led him into the men’s locker room and Logan followed his lead as they took off their uniforms in silence. Logan was working hard to calm himself down and Scott waited until the larger man’s breathing returned somewhat to normal before speaking.

“You have to stop Logan.”

Logan continued to undress, ignoring him. Scott wrapped a towel around his waist and stood in front of Logan, arms folded across his chest. “Rogue is a fully accredited member of the X-Men. She was an X-Man long before you came back.”

That got Logan’s attention. “I don’t recall voting her in Slim.”

“You weren’t here.”

“You shoulda waited.”

“Rogue was well on her way to becoming an X-Men whether you were coming back or not Logan,” Scott informed him. “I wouldn’t have allowed you to stand in her way.”

Wolverine stood nose to nose with Cyclops and said slowly and menacingly, “Gettin’ in my way is a really bad idea, bub.”

Scott refused to let Logan goad him, despite the telling tic playing along his jaw. “Your inability to trust Rogue while on a mission can become a liability to this team Wolverine. It’s my responsibility to ensure that each member puts the team’s needs and safety above their own personal agenda. Wolverine, I am instructing you to stand down.”

Wolverine was angry, and was getting more so with every word that Scott threw at him. “Or what, Cyke? Are ya tellin’ me that if I don’t accept Rogue as an X-Man, I’m off the team?”

Tense moments passed. The younger man’s shoulders slumped resignedly. “The X-Men need you Wolverine. But Rogue needs you to see how hard she worked over these past few years to earn that X on her uniform. You can’t lose your place on the X-Men Logan, but you can lose your place in Rogue’s life.”

He walked away to the showers, leaving Logan frowning.


*****



Rogue was in pain.

She was desperate to walk away from the team as quickly as possible to allow her time to heal before Logan could determine the full extent of her wounds. The leather of her uniform didn’t let too much blood escape. She knew Wolverine could smell her blood as soon as they boarded the Blackbird so she fanned his anger as a buffer to keep him away from her during the short flight home.

She peeled her uniform off and jumped into a shower stall. She watched with abject fascination as a copious amount of blood flowed from her body down into the drain. The gash in her side began to close, the puckered skin self stitching itself. She bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain.

Super healing or not, it still hurt like a bitch.

Rogue was still battling with her anger, furious at Wolverine for constantly doubting her, for not trusting in her abilities. She was done being hurt by his lack of confidence in her. Now she was just plain mad.

After a few minutes, she began to wash the mission’s efforts away, noting that Storm had already made her way into a neighboring shower stall. She let the hot water pulsate down onto her head, and absently returned Storm’s goodnight wishes when the other woman finished her shower and left the locker room. Rogue stayed under the water for a long time. She was bone tired, physically and emotionally.

She finally stepped out of the shower and dressed into her familiar, shapeless long sleeve t-shirt and leggings. She pushed her damp hair back with a simple hair band, pulling on her gloves when she exited the locker room. She was so distracted by her thoughts that she failed to notice the man leaning against the hallway wall as she walked towards the elevator.

“Hold up kid.”

Startled, she spun around and barely managed to keep her bone claws sheathed as she crouched into a fighting position. Wolverine lifted his hands palms outward, surprised at her quick reflexes. “Hey, I ain’t the enemy.”

Rogue slowly straightened up, her eyes cold. “Could have fooled me.”


Oh, she was spitting mad, his Marie.


He inhaled deeply and found himself enjoying the smell of her fury. Startled by his reaction, he snapped at her, “Stop actin' like a baby and grow up.”

Her eyes ignited in anger. She pushed him against the wall, holding back just enough to prevent him from crashing through it. “Ah am this close to showing you just how grown up Ah really am Wolverine,” she spat at him.

Rogue could be the strongest on the team, but Wolverine was still the quickest. He retaliated by throwing her over his shoulder onto the ground and holding her in place by placing his body on top of hers, taking advantage of his heavy frame. One large hand held both of hers above her head and she immediately panicked. Her exposed throat was too close to his bare arm, her face too near his own. Eyes wide with fear, she whispered, “Please Logan, Ah don’t want to hurt you.”

He looked at her puzzled, at first not understanding, still a bit winded. When he realized what she meant, he stood up, taking her with him, his hands reassuringly gripping her gloved ones. “I’m careful Marie, I wouldn’t have got hurt.”

She closed her eyes and nodded quickly, willing herself to calm down. She felt herself become less tense as she let her anger go. Looking into his eyes, she asked, “Why can’t you accept me Logan? That this is my life now?”

He was silent, taking in the clean, fresh scent of her, caught in the deep sea of her eyes. Logan felt the animal in him stir and he abruptly let go of her.

“Because as much as you want to play at bein' an adult,” he told her harshly, “ya ain’t.”

She looked at him, trying to understand him, trying to forgive him. Deep disappointment laced itself together with sadness. With that reflecting in her eyes, she said softly, “Good night Wolverine.”

She stepped into the elevator and took one last look at him, but he kept his face in profile. She turned away as the doors shut closed.



*****



She was avoiding him.

Instead of using the Danger Room early in the morning like she usually did, she was there when Logan was busy in the gymnasium for his close combat classes. Instead of eating an early breakfast, she ate her breakfast on the go and had a late lunch. Dinner was spent by herself, or visiting Jubilee and Kitty at their college dorm.

She was everywhere and nowhere. It was frustrating the hell out of him.

He always missed her by mere moments, her scent still strong in the air whenever he entered a room, so sure to find her there. This went on for days, and it was getting annoying.

Then the Louisiana swamp rat showed up. Ororo brought him back with her from a mission, an old friend of hers, who went by the name of Gambit. He got under Logan’s skin more than Scott did, with his creepy red eyes, and his lazy manner of speaking in a Cajun accent. This Remy LeBeau just screamed trouble.

And this trouble was setting his sights on Marie.

“Get out Gambit.”

Remy LeBeau pouted, looking sadly at the beautiful woman. “You injure, chere. Such pain you inflect on dis one’s heart.” Rogue rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Remy, there are so many other women you could be spending all this energy on. You really need to get out.”

Gambit closed the distance between them and let his eyes slowly travel along the length of her body. She might as well have been nude for how he thoroughly appraised her with his red irised eyes. She felt a small thrill as he stepped really, really close. He leaned down to where she was sitting at her desk, and breathed huskily, “Non, ma belle. Remy really needs to get in.” His deep voice reverberated through her.

Rogue closed her eyes, a bit mesmerized. His voice is so damn HOT.

He was about to kiss her and her eyes bolted open. She pushed him harshly away. “Do you have some kind of death wish, Cajun? Ah can kill you, or weren’t you paying attention at your orientation meeting?”

He shrugged, nonchalant. “Remy knows chere, he jus’ don’t care." She stared at him, convinced he was insane. She turned back to her notes, intent on ignoring him. Remy found himself amused by her refusal to acknowledge the attraction she felt for him. Once again he took stock of her body.

This was a woman filled out in all the right places, possessing curves that were made for a man to caress, to hold, to grasp. Her long legs seemed to go on forever, encased as they were in nondescript grey trousers, and he easily imagined them tightly wrapped around his waist. She wore a turtle neck sweater which despite its bulk, still hinted at the voluptuousness underneath. His eyes riveted to her lips, like ripe berries just begging to be bitten. He could feel himself harden, envisioning her under him, above him. Naked.

Mon dieu, how I want this woman.

Remy pulled her up from the chair, pressing her up against the desk with the length of his heated body. He looked deep into her beautiful, catlike emerald eyes which were now wide open, startled. “’Dis one needs to taste you,” he murmured, returning his gaze to her lips, his body tense.

The scent of his arousal was powerful and she instinctually purred low in her throat. Knowing that this gorgeous man wanted her was setting her on fire.

This is nothing like Bobby, she thought dazedly, this was a man. A very sexy, sexy man.

“No Remy, we can’t” she breathed, afraid for him. Tears filled her eyes and he caught his breath at the sight of them. His entire being reacted badly at the sight of her distress.

Dere is somet’ing about ‘dis girl.

Every nerve ending in his body told him not to release her, but he did, telling her, “Remy will figure out a way to be wit’ you chere.” With that he left, sending a wink in her direction before disappearing through the preschool door. Rogue remained leaning against the desk for a while, needing the support, trying to settle herself. This was a new twist, this extreme physical sexuality she was experiencing.

She needed a cold, cold shower.



*****



Gambit relentlessly pursued her, day after day.

“Remy, you can’t keep coming in here like this.” She was helping put away the toys that were strewn about the preschool room. “Ah don’t know how many times Ah have to tell you.”

He raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her. “Why not, chere? Les petit enfants do not seem to mind.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the four giggling children. Smiling slightly at them but cutting her eye at him, Rogue tartly told him, “You need to stop. You’re distracting them, and it’s difficult enough as it is to get them to pay attention."

His red eyes glowed. “Dis one is distracting you as well, no?”

At her glower, he tapped the top of his forehead lightly with the staff he always carried. “Your wish is Gambit’s command petit’.” With a flourish, he bowed deeply and exited the room, complete with his trademark wink. With him gone, Rogue helped the children gather their things before handing them off to their caretakers. The young students left noisily, bumping and jabbing at each other, requiring the adults to chastise them several times before they settled down and made their way to their quarters. Finally alone, she took a deep exaggerated breath, massaging the back of her neck.

She was so tired.

On top of the kids being particularly uncooperative today, her college correspondence courses were taking their toll on her. Sometimes she wished she had chosen to go away for college. But with her mutation, and its complications, it was too dangerous. Besides, she was where she needed to be, where she belonged.

But a break once in a while would be nice, she thought wistfully. She picked up Logan’s scent just outside the preschool door. She looked at him calmly as he appeared in the doorway.

“Any plans tonight kid?”

She took in the sight of him and she couldn’t help but appreciate the male before her. The tight jeans and black t-shirt he was wearing molded over every sinewy muscle on his perfect body. He cocked an eyebrow at the expression on her face, and she noted that it looked different than when Remy did it. With Logan it was more - erotic.

She straightened up and shook her thoughts away. Ah must be more tired than Ah thought.

This was Wolverine, the X-Man who wanted her kicked off the team. He was persona non grata now. “Ah’m tired Wolverine,” she informed him irritably, grabbing her totebag from the back of the chair nearby, “What do you want?”

Logan felt his temper flare but he tamped it down. He stepped closer towards her. “I thought we could spend some time together."

She stared at him.

“What?” she blurted. He stopped by the desk she was standing at, thumbs tucked into his front jean pockets. “Haven’t talked to ya in a while kid. We’re due.”

She placed her bag on top of the desk and turned to face him expectantly, hands on hips. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him. After running his fingers through his hair, he sat down on the desktop next to her. He casually stuck out his long legs, crossing one over the other.

“I know yer avoidin’ me. Get over it, it's annoyin'.”

She blinked.

How was it possible that he could get her from zero to sixty in one second flat on the anger scale? To top it off he was actually smirking, completely aware of how angry she was becoming. Her face was turning a flattering shade of red, and her eyes were flashing. Logan found himself enjoying the view.

Forcing herself to breathe evenly, she replied, “Ah didn’t notice. Ah’ve been occupied.”

His own eyes flashed. “Occupied with what?” he asked, in a too calm voice. She shrugged.

“Ah’ve been busy. Doing a little this, doing a little that."

“Doin’ a little swamp rat?”

Whoa.

She stared at him, confused, and he glared at her, angry. Seeing that he expected an answer, her own anger boiled over. “What or Who Ah do is none of your business Wolverine.” She moved to pick up her things again.

His hand whipped out and grabbed her gloved hand, effectively stopping her. “It is my business, kid.”

“No, it's not,” she told him through clenched teeth, viciously adding, “go find a new runaway to play bodyguard to.” His sharp intake of breath told her she struck gold.

His arms flexed as his hold on her hand tightened. “I don’t want ya hangin' around Gambit.”

“Ah don't care what you want." She lifted her head, refusing to allow him to intimidate her.

His face shuttered closed. “He’s only after one thing Marie,” he informed her coldly. “Once he gets it, he’ll be gone.” He let go of her hand and stood up to his full height.

Logan wasn’t prepared for the tears that suddenly swam in her eyes. She seemed to shatter and she dropped her face into her hands. Instantly he took her into his arms, guilty for hurting her.

“Hey kid, I’m sorry. You had to hear it from someone.” He paused, listened intently, and then stared at her. Rogue’s shoulders were shaking, but not from crying.

She was laughing.

He released his hold on her and she doubled over, laughing so hard and so loudly that he could only stare at her, dumbfounded. Catching sight of his face sent her into further hysterical peals of laughter, barely catching her breath as she fell against him. She held her sides together as though they were splitting apart. Finally, Rogue managed to calm down and she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Oh god,” she gasped, “Ah so needed that!”

Logan continued to stare at her, disturbed. Seeing this, she stepped back, tilting her head up to look at him. “Do you think Ah ever forget that Ah'm untouchable?” she asked him, in a voice close to a whisper. She didn’t look away fast enough and he caught the pain that shot across her face. Ducking her head, she quickly walked out of the room, leaving in her wake the unmistakable scent of her misery.

Logan let her go, not knowing how to comfort her.



*****



Remy and Rogue became inseparable.

Remy flirted outrageously with Rogue, and she blossomed under his adoring attention. Most of the inhabitants of the school enjoyed seeing her so happy and carefree, so unlike the pensive, quiet person they knew up to now.

Most. Not all.

Logan was spending a lot of time in the Danger Room; tearing apart it’s replicated villains in attempts to release his growing frustration. He envisioned it was Gambit that he tore to shreds everyday and that helped. A bit. He imagined them together in his mind, Marie and the swamp rat, laughing together, touching each other… With a roar, he leapt into the air and brought his claws clean down through the Level Ten Sabretooth. He felt no satiation when his oldest enemy flickered away in defeat. He stayed in a crouching position as the Danger Room changed from the forests of Alberta into the gleaming steel expanse that it really was. Slowing his breathing, he waited for his healing factor to do its work.

His thoughts remained on Marie.

It’s not that he didn’t want her happy. Rogue was finally acting like the young woman she was, laughing and quick to smile, silly and fun-seeking. It just bothered him that no one felt the way he did about Gambit. He had a heavy mistrust of the mutant that the X-Men accepted so easily into their midst. Remy LeBeau was not what he appeared to be, there was more behind him than just being a New Orleans thief. Wolverine could smell it.

The professor agreed that Gambit was not very forthcoming about himself, and so did Scott. But Charles Xavier expressed his disappointment that Wolverine could be so judgmental towards the new X-Man. He stated that everyone had a right to keep to themselves, to be taken at face value, and respected. Logan pointed out that Rogue was too trusting, easy pickings for a snake charmer like Gambit. Logan insisted that he was taking advantage of a young, innocent girl. But the rest of his team mates disagreed with him, especially that dick One-Eye who had the stupid idea that Rogue was a grown woman, capable of handling Gambit ‘s advances, or anyone else’s, on her own.


Bullshit.


With a grunt, Logan stood up and made his way to the locker room. Rogue still needed someone to look out for her. Yes, it bothered him to know that he used to be the one who could make her laugh, the one she would turn to with that happy look on her pretty face. He missed the times they spent together, talking, or just saying nothing, each doing their own thing, but still near each other. He missed keeping her company those nights when his nightmares invaded her dreams, safe in his arms until she fell asleep. He was grateful she was finally free of his nightly hell, but he liked knowing that there was a part of him inside her, part of her. And now even that was gone.

He regretted being so tough on Rogue, he saw now that Scott was right. He caused the gaping hole between them. A Cajun swamp rat sized hole.

After a quick shower, he made his way up the several flights of stairs, avoiding the common room. They would likely be there, and he didn’t want to deal with the constant urge to slice Gambit’s hands off the few times he did see them together. Especially when he saw those hands on Rogue, on her waist, on her thigh, in her hair...

Retrieving his leather jacket from his room, he retraced his steps and jumped down the stairs a landing at a time in his haste to get out of the school. He could hear Rogue’s laughter coming from the front entrance and he growled low in his throat. He stood there, wrestling with the impulse to go to her. Closing his eyes, he bit down hard on his cigar and forced himself to leave through the side door for another night of hard booze, tough fights and fast women.

The roar of his motorcyle caught Rogue's attention. Catching the look on her face, Remy wrapped his arm around her waist and playfully bit at her shoulder. She protested, laughing, and allowed him to lead her back inside the school. Thoughts of Logan disappeared as she basked under the glow of his spectacular eyes.

Rogue was having a difficult time getting used to her growing sense of smell and hearing.

The improved eyesight was great, she had no complaints there, but the other two were something else entirely. This was unlike the time she touched Logan to save her life five years ago, or the time he touched her at the Statue of Liberty shortly afterwards. His mutation had been more like a fading shadow, only lasting a few days. Now it was infused in her, and getting stronger.

Every day she wandered about the school, familiarizing herself with various scents and sounds, trying to acclimatize to her new heightened senses. She hadn’t realized how much cologne and perfume the students wore, let alone the stench in the gym area after the kids completed their combat classes. It wasn’t so much that she couldn’t stand the smell of the students and staff’s bodies, each had a distinct smell, like a finger print. It was the artificial scents she found hard to stomach, whereas anything natural was, for lack of a better word, agreeable. So she changed her deodorant to an antiperspirant, and reluctantly let go of the scented bath oils that she used to enjoy so much. She stuck with her usual organic shampoo, conditioner and bath soap, having changed over to the non cloying products long ago.


How did the Wolverine stand it?


Now she understood why he felt compelled to leave the school so often to run through the woods that surrounded the property. She could now appreciate how the scents and sounds of the mansion could be overpowering, and why he preferred to be alone. It took her a while to stop jumping at the slightest sound, everything sounding like it was happening right by her ear. She felt guilty when she unintentionally eavesdropped on the students’ private conversations, and her ears burned with the personal information that she unwillingly gathered.

Adolescent boys in particular were a curious bunch.

However, with practice, she learned to focus on generic, harmless sounds, like the wind or music when these intimate conversations inevitably reached her ears. Turned out Professor’s Ethics class did have a purpose after all.

But nighttime was when Rogue really struggled. If she was lucky enough to fall asleep in the first place, the smallest noise would wake her up, making her instantly alert, making it almost impossible for her to fall back asleep as harsh adrenaline pumped through her veins. Instead of Logan’s nightmares keeping her up at night, it was the world around her that made her toss and turn, her body tense, her fight reflex always engaged. Sleeping with music on low didn’t help because she strained subconsciously to hear every word of every song, and white noise and ear plugs made her anxious, her need to be aware of her surroundings trumping the dull monotone they provided.

Sleeping pills had no effect on her whatsoever, and getting her hands the required amount to defeat her developing healing factor would not go unnoticed by Dr. McCoy.

Rogue was tired.

Very, very, tired.



*****




Tonight was a particularly bad night. She didn’t bother trying to fall back asleep, she learned that once she was awake, that was it. Glancing at the alarm back beside her, she groaned in frustration.


4:17am.


She lay there for a while, using her acute eyesight to pick out patterns on the room’s ceiling above her. Then her ears perked up, distinguishing the sound of staggering footsteps making their way up the staircase of the teacher’s wing. She recognized the heavy 300 lb plus gait of Logan, and his scent wafted to her, confirming it. The scent of alcohol did as well.

She got out of bed and slowly opened her bedroom door. She saw his shadow round the corner of the landing above her floor and she made a decision. Before she could think twice about it, she made her way quickly up the stairs and saw him enter his room. Taking a steadying breath, she tucked her hair behind her ears nervously.


Now or never, she told herself.


She could hear him move about the room as she pressed her ear against his door. Her eyebrows knitted together when the movements stopped.

Suddenly the door swung open and she fell inside, no longer having the solid wood of the door to support her. Sprawled unceremoniously on the floor, she looked up in surprise and saw Logan standing over her, his face in shadows looking down at her. He wasn’t in a very good mood.


So much for hoping the booze would help.


“There a reason yer stalking me, kid?” he demanded, not moving an inch to help her off the ground.

Getting up with little grace, she retorted, “Ah’m not stalking you.”

His eyes slowly took in her state of dress, or undress, making their way down her torso, focusing on her pert full breasts presently covered only by a green camisole. He took in the matching colored loose pajama bottoms that hung low on her hips, resting just below the soft swell of her belly. His eyes jerked back to her breasts and narrowed appreciatively, their shape easily identifiable through the flimsy material. Rogue placed her arms across her chest, embarrassed. In her haste to catch him, she failed to cover herself up, only grabbing her arms length opera gloves at the last moment by her door as a matter of habit. She quickly pulled them on, turning her back to him.

“Ah’m here because you're hiding from me. So we’re going to talk.”

“I don't do 'hiding'. It’s late. Get out.”

Her ears burned in anger. Closing the door behind her, she swung around to face him. “Ah want to talk now.”

Once again his eyes shifted down her body. The smell coming off him was strong and her eyes widened in recognition. She smelled it enough times on Remy when they were together.

The Wolverine wanted her.

She caught her breath. Remy’s scent was very nice and she definitely enjoyed it. But this scent coming off Logan was irresistible. She felt herself react to it, and goose bumps exploded across her skin. If her senses were heightened before, they were supercharged now.

Rogue became very aware of the man in the shadows before her. Very aware of the expansive width of his shoulders underneath his black t-shirt, her eyes riveted to the chiseled chest that tapered to a lean waist, straight hips, and long, powerful legs encased in tight blue jeans.

And Rogue was very, very aware of the growing evidence of his reaction to her. A low growl escaped the back of her throat involuntarily, and the direction of her gaze was clear. His sharply drawn breath made her eyes jump back to his. And what she saw in them made her take a step back.

Too quick for her to react, he had lifted her clear off her feet, the wall of his room slamming into her back. He was too close. She closed her eyes and instinctively inhaled deeply, wanting more of his scent, mesmerized by its effect on her.

He wanted her. Logan wanted her.

His hands gripped her upper arms and he shook her violently, forcing her eyes to reopen. “What are ya doing Rogue?” he demanded. “Why are you actin’ like this?”

Her breathing was hard and fast, and she was excruciatingly aware of her breasts pressed up against him. Her nipples puckered in response and he let out a strangled groan as he felt their tightened buds through both their clothes.

“You need to leave kid.” He let her go and stepped away.

Rogue was overwhelmed by what was happening to her, her entire body trembling. All she knew was that she wanted - needed - to touch him. Her eyes burned hungrily and her voice was barely recognizable to her own ears.

“Ah want you Logan.”

“No.” His voice was gruff.

She shivered in response, and stepped towards him. “Yes.”

His kept his arms by his sides, his hands gripped into tight fists.

Feeling a confidence she never experienced before, she closed the distance between them. He stood firm, his eyes burning. She raised her hand and placed it gently on his shoulder. She slid it down his arm, enjoying the feel of the enormous muscles despite her glove, slowly making her way back up his sculpted chest. She placed her other hand on his waist, fingers splayed out as they dipped up and down across his well defined stomach. She was in a trance; the only thought in her mind was that she needed to claim this male.

Suddenly she was spun around, her back against him, his breathing harsh in her ear. She could feel him, hard and thick, and instinctually she pushed back against him. He gasped, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her head back painfully. They were breathing hard and fast in tandem now and she waited in anticipation, waiting for him to respond. He growled again, a rumble that came from deep inside him. Keeping his hands on her hips, he thrust against her, making her well aware of the full extent of his arousal. She raised both her arms and tangled her fingers into his hair, feeling the molten heat at the apex of her thighs. She wanted his touch there.

With a whimper, she begged him, “Touch me Logan.”

He bunched up the material covering her hips in his fists. Turning her back around to face him, he cupped her bottom in his hands and lifted her off the ground, unerringly pressing against her hot core, their clothing the only barrier. She nearly screamed from the sensations that burst through her, barely aware that he placed her roughly onto his bed. She wrapped her long legs around him, and gripped his shoulders, wantonly rubbing against him. She needed this male deep, deep inside her.

His large hands cupped her breasts and squeezed them, twirling her pebbled nipples between his fingers through the thin fabric. His took one breast hungrily into his mouth, sucking hard, wetting the cotton, attacking the other with the same intensity. Watching him, she arched beneath him, on fire, her gloved fingers running through his hair.

Logan felt lost, the scent and feel of her sending him to the precipice of where Logan stopped and Wolverine began. Her need for him was primal and raw. Marie was in his bed, her delicious body under him, opened to him, his for the taking. The smell of her, the feel of her, was driving him mad. The sounds coming out of her were so like him, the wild look in her eyes so familiar…

His body stilled.

It took Rogue a few moments to realize that he stopped moving. Breathing heavily, she looked up at him bewildered, panting hard. His body was tense; every muscle straining from the effort to not move. A heartbeat passed and he abruptly untangled her from him, getting off the bed. He walked to the window at the far end of the room. Keeping his back to her, he ran his fingers through his hair agitatedly, the muscles on his back rippling from the movement.

Rogue sat up, confused, feeling bereft from the loss of his heat. She rubbed her arms, suddenly very cold.

“What did I do to you?” His voice was a whisper.

Rogue felt fear dig into her stomach. She didn’t understand. Moments earlier he wanted her. Now he was looking at her like a man condemned.

“You’re feral now, aren’t you!” He roared the question at her and she winced. He grabbed a chair and threw it violently across the room, its wooden frame splintering on impact against the wall.

Afraid, she crossed her legs and hugged them to her. “Please Logan, you’re scaring me.”

He couldn’t trust himself to come near her. Anger he could hang on to, anger could stop him from touching her, claiming her.

“When were you going to tell me? “ His stopped yelling, but she could see the glint of his metal blades on the surface of his fists.

Eyes widening, she stammered, “Ah didn’t know how to tell you. It’s like my skin. I can’t control it. Ah thought it would go away, but it’s not. It’s getting stronger." Tears began to fall down her face. "Ah don’t know how to shut it off. ”

His anger died away the instant he smelled her tears. He went to her, snatching the bed sheet and wrapping her in it. He sat down beside her. “It’s okay, Marie. It’s okay.”

She cried hard as she leaned into him, pressing her face against his shoulder. He waited for her sobs to subside before gently asking, “Have you told Chuck? Maybe he can help you control it, like ya do Carol’s.”

She shook her head. “He’s tried.” Her thick eyelashes were spiked with tears. “But nothing’s worked. It’s becoming a part of me.”

Logan tried to get her words to sink in.

Rogue was feral. It explained her behavior over the last month, why he couldn’t catch up with her when she avoided him, her quick reflexes and ferocity, her temper.

It explained what had just happened between them.

Placing his chin on top of her head, her hair an effective barrier between them, he told her carefully, “There are things that are, difficult, when yer feral.” Her face flushed hotly.

She jumped up. “Ah have to go.”

She dropped the bed sheet, and quickly approached the bedroom door, almost tripping in her desperation to get away. He easily caught up with her and stopped her from leaving by placing his hand on hers when she grabbed the door handle.

“You didn’t know what you were doing,” he told her softly. “I took advantage of you. I’m sorry kid.”

She looked down at her bare feet. But Ah did know. Ah knew exactly what Ah was doing.

She willed herself to look back at him, searching his face for any sign of the man who had wanted her earlier. But all she saw was concern. “Ah just need some time to get used to,” she faltered but managed to say before her throat closed up, “this.”

He nodded, and released her hand, letting her open the door. He watched her until she disappeared into the staircase at the end of the hallway. Once he heard the soft click of her bedroom door closing behind her, he stepped back into his room and leaned against the door, closing his eyes.

The Wolverine was stunned.

She set him on fire so quickly, so easily. The Rogue had awakened the feral beast in him instantly.


Marie.


Her ambrosial scent clung to him. He inhaled it deeply into his lungs, like a man addicted.

The Holiday Season was coming up fast and the school became busy with festive preparations.

Rogue’s college exams were over, her thesis submitted. Free of her studies, she volunteered to escort students on excursions outside of the school, immersing herself in their innocent anticipation of the holidays. She developed lesson plans and assisted the faculty, decorating and helping out wherever she could, manic in her need to stay busy.

Because Rogue was on fire.

How did Logan deal with this constant sexual hunger, this basic, primal need? Her mutation made it particularly cruel, her skin longed for touch, and yet her skin was poison. And every time Rogue saw him, she felt scorched, instantly recalling his powerful body pressed so intimately against her, the feel of his hands and mouth. The memory of him, wanting her, always hovered at the surface, simmering, and constant. It invaded her days, tormented her nights, and she hated it.



*****



Rogue was getting irritated, wishing she never confided in her best friends about Remy LeBeau. She once again pointed out to them that sex for her would never be possible.

“I call bullshit,” declared Jubilee, launching herself into the air and landing on Rogue’s bed with a bounce.

“Double bullshit,” agreed Kitty from where she was wrapping Hanukah gifts on the floor nearby.

Rogue gritted her teeth. “It’s not bullshit.”

Jubilee’s face reflected her disbelief. “Know what, Rogue? You’re right. It’s not bullshit. It’s actually you, being a chicken shit. I think you’re so caught up in the whole ‘wah, wah, I’m gonna be a virgin forever’ shtick because you’re scared of being touched and liking it too much.”

“Excuse me?” Rogue’s eyebrows soared somewhere near her hairline.

Jubilee continued, looking right at Rogue, annoyed herself. “There are ways around your mutation, chica. You need to be a little careful, sure, but you can get the job done.” She popped her gum for emphasis.

Rogue was gob smacked.

Kitty picked up where Jubilee dropped off. “You can kiss and touch anything with a scarf in the way. Maybe a piece of heavy duty saran wrap, something moldable. Ever hear of condoms? You can give a blowjob, you can drape a sheer scarf against your pussy and just let him munch away.” She twirled a ribbon with a pair of scissors and turned the bright package in her hands this way and that, eyeing it critically.

“Or you can both get off in front of each other!” Jubilee contributed enthusiastically, warming to the subject.

“OMIGOD, Can you two STOP IT?!”

Rogue had her hands over her ears, face so red she thought she would burn to a crisp. The other two girls looked at each other knowingly and changed the subject.

They had gotten their point across.



*****



Many of the students went home for the holidays, so the majority of the staff took advantage and went on vacation themselves. Kitty and Jubilee were spending the holidays with Kitty’s family in Illinois, Bobby and Piotr decided to stay in the West Coast with their college buddies and Scott planned to visit his grandparents, with the intent to return Christmas Day. Rogue drove him the Salem Center Airport, a big part of her wishing she could go with him to Alaska, her old dream.

Seeing the wistful expression on her face, Scott asked, “What is it, Rogue?”

She inwardly chastised herself. Scott was still hurting over Jean's death, and she understood how difficult the holidays could be. “Just think of me if you manage to see the aurora borealis, will you?” She smiled for him, holding back her hair with both hands from the cold wind that blew past them.

Something flashed across his face, a look she didn't recognize, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He gave her one of his rare smiles.

“Consider it done. See you in a couple of days.”

After a quick hug, he exited the car, his tall frame moving swiftly and purposefully into the medium sized building. Watching him disappear into the crowd, she wondered if maybe one day she would get to complete the journey she had embarked on another lifetime ago. With a sigh, she shifted the Mercedes into drive.

Maybe.


*****


Things were quiet the day before Christmas Eve.

Rogue set out for her daily walk around the grounds, carrying with her a hot cup of cocoa that warmed her hands through her gloves. All around her was white thick snow that fell the night before, blanketing everything in sight. In the distance, she could see Ororo and Hank skating on the frozen over fountain, their laughter echoing as they attempted to help each other stay upright. The memory of Bobby and Kitty doing the same thing, years ago, washed over her.

When she had left the mansion that same night with the intention of taking the cure, Logan told her he hoped it wasn’t for some boy. His words had lashed at her the entire three days she stood in that lineup outside the clinic, until she finally walked away, knowing he was right. Breaking up with Bobby had been the right thing to do, despite her heartbreak, and when the cure ended up being temporary, she was grateful for Logan’s words. She couldn’t imagine having the ability to touch returned to her, only to have it taken away again. But the next time she saw Logan, at Jean’s funeral, her intent to thank him fell away in the face of his grief. The whole world, including her, ceased to exist to him.

And that had hurt. A lot.

“Bonjour, cher.”

She turned, not surprised to see him, having caught his scent the moment she had stepped outside. Rogue forced a smile.

“Hi, Remy.”

He took the cup out of her hands and swallowed its contents whole, flashing a grin at her protests before giving it back to her.

“Ah’m not very good company Remy.” She told him honestly, looking into her now empty mug. Snow began to fall gently around them. He reached out a gloved finger to caress her cheek, his scarlet eyes soft.

“Dis one takes your company anyway he can get it, petit.”

They stood there, looking at each other, one feeling a deep sadness, the other a deep want. He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her close. “How long does Remy have to wait?”

She could only look at him helpless, mesmerized by what she saw in his eyes. She licked her lips nervously and his eyes shot downwards, taking in her movement.

“Mon dieu, Rogue,” he breathed, eyes glowing. “How I want you.”

She leaned into him, unable to tear her eyes from his. “No, Remy.”

His lips were so close to hers, and she felt the familiar, rising panic take hold of her. She didn’t want to push him away, not again, and a lone tear escaped her eye when she realized he intended to kiss her.

“We can’t, we can’t,” she whispered, wanting so desperately to kiss him. Remy’s concerned face swam in front of her as a wave of dizziness hit her, and she went limp against him, weak. Suddenly, his hold on her was gone and she fell to the ground.

Dazed, she looked up to see an enraged Wolverine holding Gambit up by his coat lapels.

“What the fuck do ya think yer doing, bub?”

Gambit hands began to glow purple. Frantic, she jumped up and pulled at Logan’s arms, forcing him to let Remy go. Without taking his eyes off the other man, Logan asked her tersely, “You alright, kid?”

She nodded, anxious to cool down the two powerful mutants. “Yes. Yes, Ah am Logan. Really.”

Pulling her close to his side, he snarled, “She said no, Cajun.”

Remy adjusted his coat and flashed a jaunty smile, despite the dangerous glint in his eyes. “’Dat, so?”

He got a warning growl in response and Rogue quickly placed her hands over Logan’s knuckles, effectively preventing him from drawing his claws. Logan looked down at her, angered that she would protect Gambit, surprised that she kept her eyes downcast, docile. Logan glared at the man in front of him.

“She can kill you, swamp rat. And if she doesn’t kill you, surviving ain’t pleasant either.” He got right in Gambit’s face. “You might think it’s worth it, but you should know that anyone who touches her skin leaves a copy of them and their memories in her mind, trapped like a screamin’ ghost. I don’t want the likes of you ramblin' in her head, got it?”

Rogue was blinking rapidly, gripping Logan’s hands and wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She couldn’t bear to look at him, humiliated by his description of her mutation. Overwhelmed, everything began to spin around her, and the roaring in her ears became louder and louder. She had no time to brace herself before she lost consciousness, falling in a dead faint.

Logan caught her easily, shouting her name. With another warning growl directed at the Cajun, he lifted her into his arms and held her close, calling out to Hank who quickly followed them to the mansion when the doctor caught sight of Rogue’s limp form.

Remy followed them, battling with the jealousy he felt seeing her in another man’s arms. Ororo sent him a look of sympathy as they quickly made their way to the sick bay, not knowing how to explain the complicated mess that was the connection between Rogue and Logan. She couldn’t even explain it to herself.

But as Gambit watched Wolverine place Rogue gently onto the hospital bed, he was confident of one thing. She was going to be his. The Wolverine needed to let Rogue go.

The first thing she became aware of was the blipping sound from the monitor keeping in time with her heartbeat.

What the hell happened?

“Hey, kid.”

She turned to the man sitting in the chair beside her, his amber eyes warm with concern. He was caressing her hair, both of his hands gloved. She gave him a small smile.

“Hey back.”

Logan took hold of Rogue’s bare hand and pressed it against his chest. He was relieved to see her awake. Seeing her lie there, helpless, brought out powerful emotions in him, emotions that he had forgotten. Every part of him felt made to protect her, care for her, like she was his.

Fascinated by the flickering in his eyes, she asked, “How long have Ah been out of it?”

Still stroking her hair, he informed her, “About eighteen hours. Apparently yer exhausted.” She rolled her eyes and resisted the impulse to sit up, enjoying the feel of her hand on his chest and his hand in her hair.

“That’s a pretty shitty reason to faint like a pansy.”

Logan smirked. “Yeah, it was pretty girly." He laughed softly at the look of mild outrage she shot him, but then became serious. “Why are you so tired, Marie?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Should she tell him that the noises that kept her up at night for the past two months paled in comparison to the sexual fantasies of the past week that made her so hot that she spent most of her nights in a cool bath?

That would be, a no.

“Ah guess completing my college correspondence courses took a bigger toll on me than Ah thought,” she answered him, averting her eyes to focus on the door that led into the sick bay. Logan opened his mouth to argue with her, aware that she was telling only part of the truth, when Dr. Henry McCoy entered the room.

“Good morning Rogue."

He greeted her warmly, snapping open his clipboard and quickly writing down information that the monitors were exhibiting. Nodding his head in obvious satisfaction, he went about disconnecting the various machines, and with an apology, took out the IV that was inserted into her vein. Logan shot Marie a look and she shook her head imperciptively. She kept the tiny gauze in place to prevent the doctor from seeing the wound instantly close itself, thanking him when he placed a small bandage over it. It was clear to Logan that she didn’t want her feral state known to their fellow X-Man.

“I trust you slept well, my dear? Is there anything you would like to discuss in regards to your sleeping habits?” Beast pulled up a chair and sat on the other side of her, giving her his full attention.

She reluctantly pulled away from Logan, glad to see that she was wearing a full sleeved t-shirt and pants, standard poison skin garb. She accepted the cotton gloves that Beast handed her gratefully, feeling more comfortable after putting them on. “Just burning too much of the midnight oil Doc, nothing that the holidays can’t fix now that Ah’m done with my studies.”

Patting her covered hand, Hank stood up. “Good to hear. Frankly Rogue, I must say, you are in impeccable health. Outside of this episode, your physical well being is exemplary and your blood work came back with absolutely stellar results. It seems that access to Carol Danvers’ mutation agrees with you.”

Rogue ignored Logan’s raised eyebrow pointedly and smiled tightly. “Guess so. Am Ah free to go?”

Already distracted by his notes, Beast waved her off. “Of course. Get something to eat,” he suggested. “You can afford to put some meat on you.”

She jumped off the bed and Logan rose from his chair to stand with her. He followed her out and joined her in the elevator and was quiet as the lift brought them to the main floor. When the doors swished open, she attempted to send him off with a cheery, “See you later,” but he grabbed her hand, stopping her from taking the main staircase to her room.

“Yer eating, kid."

He pulled her along the wood paneled hallway and into the loud cafeteria that was already swarming with the few students eating breakfast who remained at the school for the holidays. He looked at her sympathetically as the sounds and smells came at her. Squeezing her hand reassuringly, he led her to the farthest table he could find. “I’ll be right back,” he told her.

She watched his retreating back, confused thoughts swirling in her mind. He was being very attentive, opposite of how he’s mostly treated her since coming back. Part of her was relieved, but another, stronger part of her rebelled against it. This Jekyll and Hyde act he was pulling on her was nerve-wracking, and the way he expected her to roll over and accept his alarming mood swings set her temper flaring. When he returned, carrying way too much food on two trays, she decided to let it go. For now. There were worse things than having the Wolverine cater to you.

“Eat,” he instructed.

She shook her head at the amount of food he placed in front of her. Suddenly, she was absolutely ravenous. And once she began to eat, she found she couldn’t stop, eating absolutely everything on the tray. Embarrassed, especially because of the way he had stared at her the entire time, she exclaimed, “Ah’m going to pay for that.” She began to delicately pat her mouth with a paper napkin, but set it down, feeling ridiculous. After that gluttonous display, her southern manners were definitely thrown out the window.

Logan snorted, mopping up some remaining egg yolk off his plate with a torn husk of cornbread. “Actually, you won’t. Rule number one. The more your healing factor kicks in, the more food you need. Don’t hold back on eating what ya want, your body knows how much it needs to sustain itself. Based on what I just saw go down yer throat, you’ve been holding back. Don’t. ”

Startled, she sat back against her chair.

“Rule number two. The way to get to sleep without all the distractions, is to focus on the rhythm and sound of yer own heartbeat.” He looked directly into her eyes.

She felt a blush creep onto her face.

Pushing his empty plate away from him, he kept eyes trained on her. “You need to be upfront with me, Marie.”

Her stomach flip flopped. She attempted to be nonchalant, exaggerating her southern drawl, when she replied, “A lady needs some secrets, sugah.”

A strange look came over his face. She looked away, unnerved by his direct gaze.

“Good to see you up and about Rogue.” They both looked up to see Ororo and Kurt approaching them with their own breakfast trays. Scooting over to make room for the blue furred teleporter, Rogue flashed him a smile. “Thanks Kurt.”

He bared his brilliant white teeth at her, yellow eyes flashing with mischief. “It appears your present company has you glowing in good health as vell,” he remarked, noting her flushed cheeks. Her cheeks burned further.

Taking pity on the young woman, and shooting Nightcrawler a warning look, Storm told her, “You look rested Rogue." The older woman reached out and squeezed her hand, and Rogue returned the gesture affectionately.

The four friends settled in, the conversation turning to matters pertaining to the school, the rumored Mutant Registration Bill and the night’s planned festivities for Christmas Eve. Kurt reminded everyone to join him for midnight mass before they all went their separate ways.

A red-eyed mutant watched the group from the other side of the cafeteria with a scowl on his face. Logan saw him. And he liked the expression on Gambit’s face just fine.

The giggling was getting louder and louder.

Rogue tried to ignore it, hoping they would get the hint, but when Andrew reached over and pulled Christie’s orange pointed ear, Rogue sent a withering look the young boy’s way. Caught, the young boy retreated against the chapel pew he was sitting on. Rogue repositioned herself so she sat in between the two children, and placed a finger against her lips, indicating to the children to hush. They obeyed, sullen, but within minutes, were back at it.

Rogue could hardly blame them. Kurt was doing a wonderful job leading the midnight service but, she had to be honest, it was dragging along. And the incense that burned at the altar felt capable of suffocating her. There was a collective sigh of relief when he began the closing intonations. Rogue wasn’t Catholic, having been raised Baptist, and her feelings towards religion were ambivalent at best. But she recalled the comfort and security it provided her as a child, and saw no harm in exposing these young children to it. Besides, you couldn’t have Santa Claus without it, and that was what she suspected was the real reason for the children’s inattentiveness.

She approached Kurt afterwards and thanked him for the beautiful sermon. He blessed each child before their caretakers led them away to their beds, promises of a red dressed elf and flying reindeer filling their heads. Rogue watched them go, her heart bursting with love for each of them. She was so thankful to the professor for finding them, and for providing them the safety of his school.

She recalled a Christmas she experienced as a very young child. She remembered the beautiful twenty foot pine tree that stood majestically in the front foyer, shipped down from a northern Michigan forest. She could remember sitting still, hiding, on the top step of the winding staircase, entranced by its glittering lights and multi-colored decorations as a party filled with well dressed adults was well underway in the rooms below. The memory felt like it belonged to another person, another lifetime.

Unbidden, thoughts of her father appeared in her mind and she gasped, recalling his features easily. Her heart ached.

Oh Daddy, why couldn’t you love me enough? Why did you throw me away?

“ ‘Ello chere.”

Startled, she spun around. Remy regarded her, taking in the grief stricken expression on her face. He reached for her, seeing that she needed comfort. “What makes you so sad, Rogue?”

She pushed him away gently, shaking her head as she blinked away the tears that threatened to escape her eyes. “It’s just the season Remy. It’s not a happy time for everyone.”

He watched her silently as she composed herself. Everyone had left the chapel; the two were alone in front of the altar. The full moon shone brightly through the stained glass high above them, reflecting off the gleaming polished wood of the pews. Shadows played across their faces as they faced each other.

“You look well.” His voice was soft and low.

She nodded. “Ah feel better.” Silence grew between them. Watching him, she felt conflicted. The day was spent mostly alone by her, avoiding Logan, and avoiding Gambit as well. She could smell the hurt on him. He stepped closer, stopping mere inches from her. He held nothing back, eyes glowing, and she touched his face with her gloved fingers, lost in his intent gaze. His eyes shuttered closed with a soft sigh, and he grabbed her hand, turning her palm upwards and kissing it. Returning it back to his cheek, he closed the small gap between them and reopened his eyes.

Remy LeBeau was an extremely handsome man. Beautiful, in fact. He was tall and broad shouldered, leanly muscled and strong. His hair shined a dark auburn and fell across his face in long straight lines, his thick lashes surrounding a pair of crimson irises encased in black. He was also a very sexual man. And he was looking at her like she was the only woman in the world.

He pulled out a white, flat box with a red bow on top, and wordlessly gave it to her. She opened it, pulling out a delicate sheer green scarf. He took it from her and rubbed the material between his fingers, his eyes taking on a peculiar intensity.

She stopped breathing. Omigod…

Remy draped the small square of material across the lower half of her face, and with the briefest hesitation, claimed her lips with his own. Terror gripped her, her pupils constricting to mere pin points as she waited for the pull.

None came.

His breath was hot against her mouth, his lips soft, pulling gently at her own. She felt herself go weak, powerless against the wave of pleasure that washed over her. Feeling her go limp, his hold on her strengthened. His lips moved over hers slowly, tenderly, holding himself back. She ran her fingers through his hair, and responded, timidly at first but then hungrily, desperately.

Gambit felt a surge of victory, crushing her to him, devouring her. Rogue wouldn’t, couldn’t stop, amazed by the feel of his mouth plundering hers, of being kissed. Gambit took all that he could from this first kiss, only breaking away to catch his breath. Tenderly, he looked down on the woman he had grown to love, her eyes dazed, her ruby red lips swollen from his kiss. With a cocky grin, he possessed her lips again, in the back of his mind thanking a certain yellow loving mutant.

A cloud passed overhead, plunging them into darkness. A mournful howl could be heard in the distance as a lone wolf bemoaned the loss of its beloved moon.

But Rogue didn’t hear a thing.


*****


Morning sunlight poured through the bedroom window, hitting Rogue’s eyes with laser like accuracy.

At least, that’s what it felt like to her tired body. Lazily stretching out on her bed, her thoughts went to Gambit, and the kisses they shared the night before. A slow, catlike smile curled her lips, and she shivered deliciously at the memory.

It was a Christmas miracle, she thought, giggling to herself.

She got out of bed, and listened to the sounds of students shrieking with joy down in the common room. It was Christmas Day.

Rogue took her time getting ready, taking extra care with her appearance. She pinned her hair up and put a pair of gold hoops in her ear lobes, dressing in a pair of black velvet pants and an emerald green silk blouse. Her eyes caught the rumpled sheer scarf that Remy had given her the night before on her dresser.

Cheeks burning, she pulled out a black silk scarf from her closet and tied it in a loose knot against her throat.

She skipped down the steps, and entered the common room with a big smile. Immediately her four young students ran to her, exclaiming their happiness with the gifts that she gave them. Laughing, she returned their hugs and watched them run back to join the older students. She made her way over to where the teaching staff was congregated enjoying some refreshments.

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” she greeted them, hugging each one in turn before pouring herself a cup of coffee. Happily, she settled into an arm chair, tucking her legs in beneath her. Remy was nowhere to be found but he was probably fast asleep, the both of them having gone to bed in the small hours of the morning. Her smile deepened, lost in thought when Logan stepped into the room.

His eyes took in the sight of her, curled into a chair, looking off to the distance with a mysterious smile on her face. Curious, he crossed her line of vision and she looked up, startled. As she focused on him, he saw a look - was that guilt? - come over her face. She sat up and suddenly became very interested in the contents of her mug.

“Mornin’, Marie.”

Her green eyes looked up at him and then quickly away. “Good morning, Logan.”

His brows knitted together. But the others pulled his attention away, greeting him with festive cheer and he grunted good-naturedly. This was just another day to him. He turned back to her but Rogue had already vacated her chair, and was sitting on the floor with the children, playing with their new toys. He sat down, pensive.

Yep, she was definitely giving off wafts of guilt.

Logan caught wind of him moments before he appeared at the doorway. Evidently, so did Rogue because her body went still. Gambit looked right at her, sitting with the children by the massive Christmas tree. With eyes only for her, he walked up to where she was and with a secretive grin, he bent down next to her and fingered the scarf against her throat.

Rogue blushed, a deep, deep red.

That was the color that suffused Logan’s vision, watching them. Gambit brushed Rogue’s hair behind her ear and Logan noted the gloves that the swamp rat was now wearing. Realization began to dawn on him.

No.

But their body language said it all. She leaned into him, laughing softly at whatever he was whispering into her ear. Her eyes fluttered up to the Cajun’s mouth and Logan felt his mouth go dry, a terrible jealousy taking hold of him.

He was halfway up from his chair when he realized that he couldn’t just split Remy in half with his claws. Fists trembling, he abstained from drawing them out and willed Rogue to look at him. Her eyes flitted up directly to him and their vision locked. Rogue felt her heart constrict, seeing the expression of betrayal on Logan’s face. His heated glare stabbed at her. She felt her body respond, and the flare of his nostrils told her that he caught it. Logan stood up slowly, and began to make his way to her, seeing nothing but her.

Remy was watching the interchange between the two. Seeing Logan stand up from where he was sitting, he quickly pulled the scarf from Rogue’s neck and placed it across her mouth, kissing her hard.

Possessively.

The Wolverine bared his teeth and growled. Several of the students looked at him in fear, and Beast caught the sound. Responding to a potential threat, he bounded to where Logan was and looked in the same direction his fellow feral mutant was. Dr. McCoy immediately understood the situation.

He clamped his hand down on Logan’s shoulder. “Don’t my friend.”

Logan was breathing heavily through his nose, never taking his eyes off Rogue. The children around her and Remy ooh’d at the sight of their kiss, distracting the other adults in the room from Beast and him.

Rogue moved away from Remy in shock, looking between him and Logan. She got up and glared at him, knowing the reason why he kissed her so passionately. Without a word, she stormed off, twisting her arm from Gambit’s hold when he tried to restrain her. She stormed through the front foyer and out the front doors.

Logan and Remy looked at each other. The tension between them was palpable.

Beast didn’t let go of Logan. “Don’t do it, Logan.” He kept his voice even and calm although his body was tense. He knew getting in Wolverine’s way was dangerous. Logan wanted to kill Remy. His entire frame shuddered with the effort to not slice the younger man’s head clean off his shoulders. Through the window, he could see Rogue make her way down the snow covered path that led away from the front entrance.

He gruffly acknowledged the bigger man, before shrugging the big blue hand off his shoulder. Spinning on his heel, he left the room, grabbing his leather jacket before going outside. Seeing where Logan was intending to go, Gambit rushed to follow, but Beast stepped in his way.

“I think your company is not what the young lady desires at the moment my young friend.”

Remy’s eyes narrowed. “Get out of Gambit’s way, Doctor McCoy. ‘Dis does not concern you.”

Beast smiled for the benefit of the children watching them. “I think you have done quite enough this morning, Monsieur LeBeau. I suggest, strongly, that you wait for our Rogue to approach you. Vous comprends?”

Remy clenched his jaw. His deep respect for the doctor warred with the jealousy surging through him. Hank saw the play of emotions run across Gambit’s face and looked him sympathetically. “It’s her choice to make.”

Gambit released his breath harshly. He wasn’t a stupid man. He was just a man deeply in love. He knew the doctor was right. He recalled the feel of Rogue’s lips, and how she returned his kisses last night. Looking out the window in the direction of where he last saw Rogue, he hoped it was enough.


*****


Rogue swung her arms, stomping through the fresh fallen snow angrily.

She needed to get as far away from the mansion as possible. It was bitterly cold, but she didn’t care, relishing the shock of frigid air against her burning skin. She was beyond furious, angry with Remy for the display of ownership he put on in front of Logan, angry that what started out as a wonderful Christmas morning had deteriorated into a petty pissing contest between the two men. So many students saw what happened, she was mortified.

And she was angry with Logan. He had no right to look at her like that, like she betrayed him. There was nothing between them, he made that quite clear. He couldn’t expect her to sit back and not live her life. She was a hot blooded woman with wants. Needs. He wasn’t willing to fulfill them, so she had every right to find someone who would. The Wolverine didn’t want her, but evidently he thought no one should as well.

What the hell was that?

She drew her ears back and crouched into a fighting stance. He was near.

“Fuck off Wolverine,” she snarled, keeping her bone claws sheathed, but just barely. “Ah don’t want you here.”

He appeared from the side of her, stepping out from behind some of the trimmed bushes that encased the garden. “You don’t know what ya want kid.”

“Ah want you to leave me alone,” she snapped at him. She hated how calm he looked, so composed while she was a bundle of anger and resentment. She turned around and retraced her steps, not trusting herself be near him. He fell in step with her, his long legs easily handling the depth of the snow.

“Disappointed I ain’t the swamp rat?” So he wasn’t so unaffected after all, she noted.

She didn’t slow down, kicking the snow, the cold wetness on her feet and legs a welcome sensation. She didn’t answer him. With a powerful stride of those long legs, he stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop. She kept her eyes averted from him.

“Get out of my way Wolverine.”

He looked down at her, her nose and ears tipped pink from the cold. Pulling the jacket off his shoulder, he wrapped it around her. She tried to shrug it off, but he held onto her shoulders, preventing his jacket from falling to the ground. She turned her face away from him, refusing to look at him.

He wanted to shake her, hard, wanted to yell at her for getting involved with the Cajun thief. Seeing that bastard kiss Marie infuriated him. Looking at her, he had the sudden impulse to kiss away the feel of the other’s mans mouth from her lips. His grip on her shoulders tightened. “Just how involved are you two?”

She wouldn’t answer him, remaining silent. Frustrated, he let go of her and ran his fingers through his hair. “He’s not right for you, Marie.”

That got her attention. She looked at him sharply. “Oh, really? Tell me Logan, who is right for me?”

Seeing her expectant face, he responded coldly, “Not him.”

“Then who?” she persisted. “Since you know what’s best for me, tell me. Who is the right man for me? Ah swear Ah’ll throw myself at him, right now.” He stared at her, clenching and unclenching his jaw. The side of her mouth pulled up into a sneer.

“You don’t like that do you?” She took in an exaggerated sniff. “You’re jealous. Now, why is that? Why would the thought of me, with a man, make you jealous?”

His eyes flashed in anger, but a smirk appeared on his face. Tilting his head, he replied, “You don’t have a good grasp of yer sense of smell yet, kid.”

“Oh really?” she taunted, taking a step towards him. “Let’s see now. How about Ah go back inside and kiss Gambit again?” He looked down at her, not saying a word. Again, she inhaled deeply. “That smells like jealousy to me, Logan.”

“No,” he corrected her. “That’s the hate-on I have for Cajun dog.”

“Hmmm,” she wondered out loud, stepping around him now, taking in his tense stance, arms folded against his chest. “How about Ah go inside, go up to Hank, or,” she paused, now directly behind him, “wait for Scott to come back,” she finished, whispering near his ear, “and beg him to fuck me.”

And there it was. The scent of deep, dark jealousy.

Her point made, Rogue maliciously smiled, brushing past his furious frame to go back into the mansion. She was halfway there when she noticed a black long stretch limousine making its way past the school gates. As the vehicle got closer and closer, Rogue felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

From where he was still standing, Logan saw her come to a stop, halfway across the garden at the sight of the black vehicle.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

When the driver got out and stepped outside, Logan saw her take a step back as though hit. The chauffeur opened the back passenger door, and out stepped an older gentleman with the aid of a cane, who looked up at the mansion with an expectant, hopeful face.

Logan could see Rogue knew this man. She collapsed to her knees in the snow and her arms dropped to her sides as though leaden. Logan barely heard her, her voice less than a whisper.

“Daddy?”

Charles Xavier studied the gentleman seated in his office, taking in the gaunt hollows of his face, the haunted expression in his blue eyes. There was no physical resemblance to his youngest X-Man, but the professor had no doubt Owen D’Ancanto was who he claimed to be.


Oh Daddy, why couldn’t you love me enough? Why did you throw me away?


The professor could hear Rogue’s anguished voice echoing repetitively in the man’s mind. She had somehow reached out to her father last night, and here he was, desperate to see his only child. Charles Xavier told him the most basic information about Rogue; that she was safe, healthy, and living amongst people who cared for her. Anything more than that would be up to her.

Professor Xavier learned of the man’s arrival the moment Rogue realized who it was. Her emotional recoil had been so powerful it sliced painfully through his mind, bringing him to his knees. The professor reached out to her, alarmed, and was shocked by the impenetrable psychic defenses she instantly erected, expelling him violently from her mind. Sensing Logan’s presence near her, Charles prepared to meet the unexpected visitor after Logan assured him of her safety.

Owen D’Ancanto invited the professor into his mind, had begged him to, when he learned that the school’s headmaster was a telepath. And what the professor saw, troubled him deeply. Charles walked over and placed his hand on the silently weeping man’s shoulder in compassion.

But his heart hurt more for the young woman in his care.



*****



Rogue ignored the soft knocks on her door as several of the school’s inhabitants checked up on her throughout the day, concerned when she remained in her room as the hours passed. She still sat in the chair that Logan carried her to, watching the day’s light give way to night. Logan had sat beside her the first hour or so, silently watching her, but when she asked him to leave, quietly but firmly, he did.

She needed to be alone.



*****



Ororo fussed over the centerpiece she created, her lovely features reflecting displeasure with the arrangement of flowers and brightly colored ornaments. Frustrated, she sat back down and rapped her fingers against the table, the only sound in the large formal dining room. Finally, she asked the question that the others seated around the dining room table were thinking.

“Who is that man?”

They looked at each other, then to Logan, but he remained silent. Remy stood up abruptly, his chair clattering backwards to the floor. “Why is de professor allowing ‘dis homme to stay ‘ere? ‘E needs to leave!”

Logan grunted, agreeing with the angry Cajun, but still wanting to deck him. He leaned back into the chair he was sitting in and swilled down his beer, his face inscrutable.

“I am sure that Professor Xavier’s decision to invite this gentleman to stay under this roof was made after careful consideration,” Hank stated neutrally. “Clearly he is of some import to Rogue. We should be focused on helping her come to terms with his arrival instead of fixated on his departure.”

“I disagree.” Everyone turned to Scott, who had arrived back that afternoon. They were surprised by the amount of hostility in his voice. “Rogue is upset, shut off in her room because of him. I don’t care who he is, letting him stay is a mistake.”

They looked up to see Charles Xavier entering the room, alone. He put his hand up, effectively silencing the questions that were about to be hurled his way. Stopping at the head of the table, he stated in a stern voice, “I will not be entertaining any suggestions that our guest leave. He is presently retired in the guest wing, where he shall remain, undisturbed. As to his identity, that is not for me to divulge. Rogue is safe,” he looked at them pointedly, his meaning clear, “and that is where your interest should end.”

With a curse, Remy stormed out of the room, abandoning his toppled chair on the floor. Logan eyes were intent on Charles, frowning at the telepath’s response to his enquiry.


~ No Logan. It is up to Rogue if she wants you to know. ~


The school’s headmaster sat down and indicated for dinner to begin, the ensuing subdued conversation a sharp contrast to the festive cheer being enjoyed by the students in the other rooms.

Logan turned his attention to Scott, watching him with a new curiosity.



*****



Later that evening, Charles Xavier made his way to Rogue’s bedroom. She opened the door, expecting him, and quietly returned to the chair by the window.

He grabbed the desk chair nearby and placed it directly in front of her, sitting down as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Rogue watched his movements, quiet. Charles took her hands in his comfortingly, and at her invitation, entered her mind.


A little girl was sitting on a stool, her legs swinging energetically as she watched an older woman stir the contents within a bowl, set on the counter of a large kitchen. The coltish body of the four year-old wiggled as though incapable of staying still.

“Get to bed, Anina. Your daddy’s gonna be cross if he sees you here,” the woman warned. But her dark eyes twinkled, belying the seriousness in her tone.

The girl shrugged her shoulders, dipping a finger quickly into the bowl, earning her a smart smack on her hand by the wooden spoon the woman wielded. She still managed to get some batter, and licked her finger appreciatively. “Daddy’s busy with Auntie Carrie, Nanna. He don’t care none.”

The stirring stopped and Nanna looked at the young girl sternly. “Never you mind, child. He cares plenty. Now git!”

The young girl smiled, kissing Nanna on the cheek before jumping off the tall stool. Charles caught the worried look on the woman’s face as she watched the girl sprint up a spiral iron staircase, located in a corner of the room.


Bright sunshine exploded around him.


There was a summer wedding in progress, and Charles saw the same young girl, dressed in a pretty, yellow cotton dress. She was standing off to the side, the two adults in front of her exchanging matrimonial vows in a beautiful garden just outside a majestic, white antebellum home.

Charles recognized Owen D’Ancanto as the groom, and upon closer inspection, noticed the bride had a startling resemblance to Rogue. After the couple sealed their union with a kiss at the prompting of the officiating minister, they walked quickly down the aisle, eyes only for each other. Neither acknowledged the little girl who had lifted her arms to them when the ceremony had ended. The child slowly returned her arms to her sides as the newly wedded couple stepped into a horse drawn carriage, waiting for them around front. They waved to the gathered guests happily before driving off down the long driveway, away from the Mississippi estate.

Charles looked back at the young girl, left alone at the altar. Tears streamed from her dark green eyes. Nanna approached the girl quietly, and gently pulled the heartbroken child into her arms.


Walls closed up around him.


Charles stood in what appeared to be a young child’s bedroom. Pieces of a shattered porcelain toy tea set lay in a corner, a tiny table upended, its equally sized chairs fallen to their sides. The woman he now knew as Auntie Carrie held a switch in her hand, standing by the prone form of the little girl lying on the four poster bed in the center of the room. Angry red slashes were visible across the back of the six year old’s legs.

“You are a whore Anna Marie, just like your mother!” the crazed woman screeched, punctuating each word with additional vicious blows. “You will stop that sinful singing, you hear me!”

Charles bent down in front of the girl. Her eyes were glazed over, wincing from every strike, tears falling silently onto the pillow beneath her head.


Ballet pink colored walls darkened, replaced by the walnut panels of a study.


The young girl was sobbing hysterically, begging. She was clinging to an unresponsive Owen D’Ancanto, who was sitting in a high backed leather chair behind an imposing ornate wooden desk.

“It's decided, Anna Marie.” He pushed her cruelly away, getting up and leaving her devastated and crumpled on the floor.


The room faded completely away, replaced by cold darkness.


It was raining, and a strong wind tore at the young girl’s clothes as she stood outside an academy of some sort. A Rolls Royce was idling beside her on the roadway. The back passenger side window of the vehicle was rolled down, exposing the hate-filled face of the girl’s stepmother.

“Don’t try to come back, Anna Marie. Don’t ever, ever, come back.”

Carrie D’Ancanto sat back, indicating with a wave of her hand for the driver to leave. The black car drove away into the night, the woman’s malicious smile visible through the rain-riddled glass. Torrential rain pounded on top of the seven year old, soaking her through within seconds. Her dark green eyes were emotionless as she turned to make her way up the wide steps, entering alone into the large, imposing building.


Professor Xavier pulled away from Rogue’s mind and returned to her room, the face of the young girl morphing into the woman before him. Rogue’s eyes then glazed over and looked straight through him.

Xavier stood up, suddenly feeling very, very old. He compelled her to walk to the bed, and pulled the covers over top of her, forcing her into a deep, dreamless sleep.



*****



Logan’s frown deepened, catching the haggard look on the professor’s face when he left Rogue’s bedroom to return to his own quarters. Stepping out from the shadows of the corridor, Logan opened her door and watched the sheets on her bed lifting and falling from her unnatural, even breathing.

Grim-faced, he closed the door behind him and stood by the bed, her pain harsh and enveloping around him. Taking off his shoes and belt, he lay down beside her, digging one arm carefully underneath her to pull her flush against him, reaching to meet the other draped over her waist. He bent his leg under hers, tucking her into his large chest, her back and shoulders pressed into him. He held her tightly, inhaling the peaches and peppermint of her hair to offset the scent of her misery and its effect on him.

Logan’s racing heart finally slowed to match the steady beat of hers and he fell asleep, soothed by their familiar embrace.

Rogue woke up, feeling safe and warm.

The scent of Logan was all around her, on the bed sheets, in her hair and she grabbed the bed sheets to her, inhaling him. Looking around her, she knew she was alone and she was relieved, despite the comfort his smell gave her.

She wasn’t ready.

She forced herself to take a shower, forced herself to brush her teeth and pull a comb through her hair and get dressed. She could hear everyone milling about the mansion, enjoying the day but her name seemed to be on everyone’s lips, so she shut them out, retreating back into herself. She wiped the steam away from the mirror, staring at her reflection, the old pain glittering in her eyes. With a grimace, she turned away, choking it back down.

She wasn’t ready.

When she came out of the bathroom, she saw a plate of food placed at the foot of her bed. Hungry, she tore into the food, registering Logan’s scent once more, grateful for his thoughtfulness and continued understanding that she needed to be alone.

The sun was shining brightly, not a cloud in the bright blue winter sky. She opened her window, the cold slap of winter air striking her. Oblivious, she climbed onto the sill, holding onto the wooden trim and looked down towards the ground below her. She took a deep breath, her mind emptying, and a strange calmness settled over her.

She jumped.

Rogue flew into the sky, higher and higher, no wind hindering her ascent as she reached and then broke through the stratosphere. Ice crystals formed on her fingertips, on her eyelashes, and in her hair, her body turning numb. She blinked, ice flakes breaking free from the small movement, and she floated suspended for a moment before she began to freefall. Air rushed past her as she fell backwards, gathering speed in her descent, feeling detached from the sight of stars becoming smaller and smaller, disappearing altogether as she re-entered the atmosphere. She kept her eyes heavenward, aware of the ground rushing up to greet her.

Rogue switched off Carol’s mutation.

Images of the students, her friends, Logan – others - burst into her mind. Vivid memories crashed over her, the laughter, the love, and she slammed to a halt, inches from the snow covered roadway that ran past the mansion. Her oxygen-deprived lungs painfully ripped open as she forced in air, her body shuddering from its efforts to recover. She curled into a ball and crossed her arms over her head, digging her fingers into her scalp, overwhelmed by her misery. Shoulders hunched tightly above her low hanging head, Rogue finally began to cry.

Tools clattered onto the garage floor, broken and crushed from the pressure of Logan’s clenched fists. The terrible realization that he couldn’t get to her in time as she hurtled back to earth had paralyzed him, the surge of blood still pumping fiercely through his veins as his tortured eyes took in her huddled, sobbing frame gliding back to her open window.



*****



Rogue was sitting in Professor Xavier’s office, idly flipping through pages of a book left on a side table.

Tennyson, Rogue noted drily before dropping it back onto the surface she found it on. Figures.

She was getting impatient. She wanted to get on with her day, and was anxious to see the children, sure that they were missing her. Two days had passed since she holed herself into her room and she was ready to move on.


~ The children are fine, Rogue ~


She straightened up from her slouch as he walked into the room. “Ah’m sure they are, but Ah miss them too.”

“Yes, I know,” he replied. Instead of sitting in the chair behind his desk, the professor sat in the chair beside her, his kind eyes searching hers.

“Your father is still here Rogue, hoping to speak with you.”

Her eyes turned cold. “My father ceased to exist to me a long time ago, sir.”

“I see.” The professor looked intently at her. She stared back.

“Do you not want to hear what he has to say?”

“No.” Her response was instantly given. She was trying to not show her annoyance, out of respect for him, but was failing.

“It was you that compelled him to come here, Rogue. You called out to him late Christmas Eve.”

She stopped fidgeting. He waited as confusion gave way to realization in her green eyes.

Rogue jumped up, flustered. “Ah didn’t mean to, it was just a reaction to some memory that Ah had! Ah know why he threw me away, it was quite clear. Ah let you in my mind so you could see for yourself the monster he is, and the witch that he married. Why are you keeping him here?”

Professor Xavier took her gloved hands into his. “There are things that you…”

She pulled her hands away. “No! Don’t you dare try and convince me to listen to a word he wants to say, Professor. Ah don’t think our relationship would ever be the same if you do. Ah don’t know how Ah contacted my…” she caught herself, wincing, before standing to her full height, her face hardening, “That man, but Ah don’t want him here. Ah don’t want to see him.”

If the professor was offended at her tone with him, he didn’t show it. His gaze remained steady, his composure unruffled by her show of temper.

Rogue sat back down, rubbing her hands over her tired face and running her fingers through her hair before speaking again. “Ah have moved on with my life, became who Ah am, no thanks to that person. Ah closed that chapter of my life a long time ago. Ah don’t want to hear what he has to say.” She looked at the professor, her voice catching.

“Please understand, professor. Ah have adopted a lot of your values, but leave me be on this. Ah know you are in the business of second chances, but Ah’m not. Ah don’t want to see him.”

They sat there, teacher and former student, regarding each other. Charles Xavier nodded. “I will respect your wishes, Rogue.” He made sure to not show his disappointment with her decision.

Nodding, she stood up and left.


*****


Rogue was in the Danger Room when the mysterious stranger left the mansion.

The black limousine pulled away slowly, weaving through the driveway and past the iron gates into the New York state countryside. Professor Xavier watched the vehicle leave, conflicted.

“Maybe,” Owen D’Ancanto had told the professor when he shook his hand goodbye, “This is for the best.” His hand trembled on the cane he used for support. “Ah only want my Anna Marie to be happy.”

The professor turned away from the window with a heavy heart.

So did he.


*****


Gambit watched Rogue with brooding eyes as she skated with the young children. He sat at the edge of the frozen fountain, and asked, “How long do you intend to punish Remy, cher?”

She ignored him, encouraging the smallest of her charges. “That’s it Christie honey, one foot in front of the other. Wonderful!” She clapped her hands as the little girl managed to make her way across the frozen fountain.

“Is dere anyt’ing dis one can do, to make you forgive him?”

Sending Christie on her way, she turned to him, annoyed. “What part of ‘Ah need some space’ did you not understand, Gambit? Ah accepted your apology already.” She skated to Andrew who fell flat on his bum and was having a hard time standing up again. Remy walked halfway around the large fountain to where she was.

“But dis one misses you, Rogue.” His voice took on a deep timber and she looked at him, her anger disappearing. It was clear that he was unhappy. She left Andrew clinging to the centre of the fountain for balance, and skated over to the handsome Cajun.

Taking his hand in hers, she looked into his eyes and told him honestly, “Ah can’t be with you, Remy. Ah need to sort things through, figure out what Ah want.” The pain her words caused was palpable, and Rogue’s eyes softened. “Ah’m sorry that Ah’m hurting you, Remy. Ah don’t want to hurt you more.”

Even with her skates on, he towered over her. He reached for her, burying his face into the curve of her neck, protected by her scarf. “’Dis one can’t stand knowing he ruined what we had, petit.”

Rogue didn’t pull away, letting him hold her. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine,” she told him quietly, voice heavy with guilt. “You made me feel so beautiful, so desirable. Ah was selfish taking from you what Ah couldn’t give back.”

He looked up at her, his red eyes bright with emotion. “You are beautiful Rogue. And so very, very desirable.” He held her tighter. “Let dis one kiss you again. Let Remy show you.”

Again, she felt lost in his heated gaze. But when he began to pull at her scarf, she pulled away, sad. “Ah’m sorry,Remy.”

She skated away from him and returned to the children. They latched onto her coat, shrieking from fear as she pushed them across the ice again. The Cajun thief found it hard to breathe.

“But I love you,” he whispered, heartbroken.

Rogue heard him. She looked back, but he was already gone.

Logan stayed away from Rogue, but she knew he was watching over her.

Everywhere she went, she found little things he left for her, plated breakfasts waiting for her at her favorite table in the cafeteria in the morning, new Danger Room programs specially designed to help her work on her new feral mutation.

Logan’s lingering scent was everywhere.

It’s been four days since last they spoke outside in the garden, before her father appeared, and she missed him. She wasn’t proud of how she treated him the last time they spoke. Provoking him was unfair, throwing their friends into it made her ashamed. She needed to apologize, and as she put away the skates in the sports room, she decided to seek him out before he left on a scheduled recon mission later that night. He was easily found, in the garage, tinkering away on his motorbike. She could tell that he knew she was coming because he was already wiping the grease from his hands with a rag when she entered the large building.

“Hey, kid.”

He gave her a lopsided grin, throwing the dirty rag onto a nearby work table. She took in the delicious sight of him, dressed in his tight jeans and white undershirt, the blue flannel shirt unbuttoned. His hazel eyes reflected the same appreciation as he looked at her.

“Hey back.”

It was as though an invisible band was pulled taut between them, and she felt herself move towards him. His watched her approach, one eyebrow raised questioningly. She stopped a few feet away from him, running her hands along his motorbike nervously.

“The bike looks great,” she told him, enjoying the smoothness of the chrome through her gloves.

If it was anyone else Logan would have bit their heads off for touching his motorcycle, but this was Marie. Putting away his tools, he offered, “When the weather turns warmer I’ll take ya for a ride.”

She laughed, correcting him, “When the weather turns warmer, Ah’ll be riding this beauty myself.”

Both his eyebrows raised in response. He pictured Marie straddling his motorbike between her thighs, and his jeans became uncomfortably tight. He intentionally made a loud ruckus with the tools he was putting away to distract her. “Maybe we’ll get a bike for you. My girl here might be too hard for a beginner to handle.”

“Ah’m a quick learner. Powerful things are kinda my thing.” Her eyes caught his and he saw the flare in the deep green pools. His nostrils flared. Noticing, she heated right up. They both swallowed hard.

She tore her eyes from his first. Rubbing her arms, she said in a quick voice, “Ah wanted to thank you for all you’ve done for me these past few days.”

Face neutral, he replied, “You’ve had it rough there for a bit.” He moved closer to her. She kept her eyes downward, focusing on tire mark nearest to her on the cement floor.

“Yeah, Ah have.”

He was directly behind her now. “Want to talk about it?”

She closed her eyes, his deep, raspy voice close to her ear. She shook her head. She could hear his heart beating faster, feel his heat. She wanted to lean against him, feel his hard body pressed close to hers again. She easily recalled his touch, the feel of his mouth and tongue swirling over her breasts, his teeth grazing her nipples…

“Marie.” Her name ripped from his throat, his aroused scent thick around her.

She pulled off her jacket slowly. “Ah want you, Logan.” She kept her back to him, afraid to turn around, afraid she’d lose her nerve.

He growled, the sound originating from deep inside him as he took in the sight of her. The curve of her hips, the indent of her small waist, the gentle roll of her shoulders. The purple turtleneck top she was wearing clung to her, the swell of her breasts straining against the fabric. He stepped closer, directly behind her, and waited. She needed to make next move.

Rogue did. She took hold of his arms and wrapped them around her waist, pulling his hands upwards to cup her breasts. She rested her head against his shoulder and he buried his face into her hair as his hands caressed her, his thumbs rubbing the hardened peaks of her nipples. She collapsed against him then, her body soft against him and he spun her around, catching his breath at the look of need on her face.

He lifted her leg, and pressed himself against her. She moaned at the feel of him, hard and thick, and her eyes darkened. “Ah need more.”

Hearing the desperation in her voice, he ran his hand along the waistband of her jeans, pulling them down to her upper thighs, exposing her panties. Shivering, she looked at him in fear, so much of her skin exposed, but Logan didn’t stop to reassure her. He slid his hand between her legs; overtop her cotton underwear already wet from her want of him.

“Hold on,” he ordered her. Taking her with him, he walked over to the work bench and knocked everything out of the way, tools and bike parts crashing to the floor, until he found a box of satin latex gloves that was sometimes used by the students for mechanics class. Placing her on top of the cleared counter, he quickly snapped a pair on. She was about to ask him what he was planning when he quickly pulled her boots off, and with one hard tug, took off her jeans completely.

Her long, pale legs were exposed to his hungry gaze. With both hands now covered, he grabbed her thighs forcefully and spread them apart. He locked his eyes with hers and ripped her panties off, causing her to gasp. He lifted the torn strip of material to his face and, still looking at her, inhaled deeply, pressing it against his nose and lips. His eyes got even darker, his look feral.

Rogue was sure she was going to go up in flames. Terror mixed with desire was playing havoc with her senses. Her hips lifted instinctively off the counter, and he held her down easily. He kept his eyes trained on hers, fascinated by the play of emotions across her face.

“Please,” she begged, grabbing at his shirt, her entire being quivering with desire, “Help me.”

His free hand grabbed her left foot and slowly made its way up her leg, fingers sliding along her calf, under her knee and pressing into her thigh. He cupped her bottom again, caressing it, reveling in the feel of her, and then slid both of his hands along the back of her thighs. She licked her lips in anticipation, leaving them glistening and wet, and he found himself staring at her mouth. He pressed a thumb lightly against the core of her, finding its swollen nub. Rogue bucked, letting out a strangled gasp, and he held her down again. He squeezed her between his forefinger and thumb and she shuddered, her entire body tensing up.

“It’s alright darlin’, relax,” he whispered, pressing his thumb against her again. She whimpered, aware only of what he was doing, instinctively opening her legs more, wanting to give him more access. Her wet, slick folds allowed him to glide his fingers easily, stroking her from top to bottom, pinching her gently with every pass. Her face was flushed with pleasure, and he never saw a more beautiful sight.

“You like this?” he asked her, rubbing her now in slow, deliberate circles, “Do you Marie?”

She nodded her head, biting her lower lip to prevent her from screaming. The building tension was all that mattered, all that she wanted to be aware of. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow, and she wiped it away tenderly with her gloved hands. He turned his head to kiss her palms, face intense and eyes blazing. “Tell me then, Marie. Tell me you like this.”

Mouth dry, she whispered, “Ah love it, Logan. Ah love what you are doing to me.”

Her voice seemed to do something to him because his jaw clenched and he almost angrily demanded, “You want only my touch.”

She looked deep into his eyes and clarified, “Ah crave it, Logan.”

With a groan, he slipped a finger inside of her, reaching as deeply as he could, followed by another. He catalogued in his mind everything that displayed on her face, like a starving man. She was so tight, so hot and smelled so damn good.

He brought his hand to his mouth and licked his dampened fingers, moaning in pleasure from the sweet taste of her. Rogue’s eyes widened, watching him. She became impossibly hotter. He kept a finger inside her, curled forward as he pressed the thumb of his other hand in small, tight circles on her swollen centre. The pressure continued to build, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head in pure pleasure. He looked down at her, watching what he was doing to her, feeling her getting slicker and slicker, her entire body quivering.

Her moans were getting more desperate, indicating her impending release. “Say my name darlin’,” he demanded fiercely, “I want you to say my name.”

Her gasps turned to whimpers, and then back to moans, scared but exhilarated by what was happening to her. And then she felt it, the first, wonderful, intense wave of ecstasy that crashed over her, wiping away all coherent thought. Logan shuddered as she screamed his name, digging her fingers into his hair, clinging to him helplessly, sobbing, as she surrendered to a pleasure she never knew existed. He guided her back slowly, her lush frame convulsing and sensitive to his slightest touch. His eyes devoured the beautiful sight of her. Gathering her limp form into his arms, he held her close, bathing in the scent of her, whispering her name against the silky curtain of her hair.

Logan felt like velvet rock and she clung to him. She was lost. Completely and utterly lost.

“You okay, darlin’?”

She nodded, waiting for her breathing to return to normal. She looked into his concerned eyes, and gave him the most brilliant smile he ever saw. “Ah’m perfect, sugah.”

Basking in the glow of that smile, Logan told her honestly, “Yes. You are.”

She blushed, a bright red and he laughed softly. Reaching down, he retrieved her jeans, putting them back on her slowly and lingeringly, before pulling the latex gloves off and stuffing them in the back pocket of his own jeans.

Rogue hopped off the counter, standing a little unsteadily, suddenly very self conscious. She pushed her feet back into her boots, keeping her eyes averted. Logan watched her every move. “Hey.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “We’re good, right?”

Rogue looked at his lips and felt tears prick her eyes. Heartbeats passed. He held her tighter. “Let me kiss you Marie,” he told her roughly.

Her voice was filled with longing. “You can’t, Logan.”

“I can,” he insisted, trying to catch her eyes with his own. “I want to.”

She shook her head. “No, Logan. Ah won’t hurt you.” She traced his lips with her gloved fingers. “Ah can’t.” Her voice mirrored the sadness in her eyes as she pulled away from him.

“Thank you for tonight,” she told him softly, and she walked away, back into the mansion.

“What do you mean you want to stay at the school for New Year’s? Girlie, I am going to drag you out of there, so help me god!”

Rogue pulled the phone receiver away from her ear. “Jubilee, really, Ah just want to stay here tonight.”

“Why, for crying out loud? New York City is the place to be for New Year’s, and you want to spend it in that drafty old mansion? That doesn’t make any sense!” There was silence and then, “Unless you want to spend it with a special someone?”

Rogue stiffened, shocked. How did Jubilee find out about yesterday?

“I mean,” the voice on the other end continued slyly, “You haven’t even thanked me for the gift that gorgeous Cajun gave you for Christmas.”

“Omigod Jubes, you didn’t!”

“Well, someone had to do something about that special problem of yours,” Jubilation Lee told her, unapologetically. “And holy cow, what I wouldn’t do to get me some of that gumbo!”

She couldn’t help it, Rogue started to laugh. Her friend was insane. “Goodbye Jubilee. Have a great time, and we’ll talk in the New Year.” She hung up before the other woman could argue more.

She put on her snow clothes and made her way outside to where the four youngest students of the academy were playing in the snow. It was a bitterly cold day but it didn’t bother her as much as it would have before. Her tolerance for cold temperatures improved with each day. She cringed, picking up the sounds of an argument between the two youngest as she rounded the corner.

“I am NOT a sucky baby!”

“Yes, you ARE!”

“Am NOT!”

“ARE TOO!”

Sighing deeply, she broke out into a run when the two children began to physically hit each other. Suddenly, Andrew began to glow a deep, deep, green.

He backed away from Christie, who had a look of horror on her little face where she lay in the snow. Stunned, Rogue watched the little boy rise up into the air, and he looked to her, terrified.

“Miss Rogue, HELP ME!” he screamed as caretakers grabbed the three remaining children to take them to safety. Rogue flew into the air and reached for him. She grabbed his arms and found herself screeching in pain as she became engulfed in green herself. Andrew began to cry.

“Oh please Miss Rogue, I don’t know how to stop! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!”

Rogue could hear the other children crying in fear and she tried to focus through her pain. Every nerve ending in her body felt like it was being pulled apart. There was only one way she knew to stop this, and she screamed her thought out to the Professor who was already rushing towards them from deep within the mansion’s basement where he was working with Cerebro.


I can't do it, professor!


~ Andrew isn’t responding to me, he's too frightened to hear me. You need to stop him, Rogue! ~


Rogue began to cry herself, not from the tremendous pain she was experiencing but from fear. Ah’ll kill him Professor!

~ He can kill ALL of us, Rogue and he’s killing you now! ~ The professor told her forcefully. The green glow was expanding and the children were barely just ahead of it, running towards the school.

The pain was excruciating. There was a kind of pulse radiating from the child that ripped into her repeatedly, and if it wasn’t for her invulnerability, she would have been obliterated. But it was steadily chipping away at her, and she was tiring. Sight blinded by her tears, she hugged the petrified child and whispered soothingly, “Ah got you, my angel. Ah got you.”

She touched her bare forehead to his and the green vapour instantly disappeared, the child collapsing unconscious in her arms.

They both fell to the ground, Rogue positing herself to cushion the boy’s fall, taking the full brunt of the impact. The remaining children ran towards them, Amy in front, her face tear streaked. She reached out to Rogue, exclaiming, “Miss Rogue, Miss Rogue, you’re bleeding!”

Dazed, Rogue looked down at herself and saw that she was, indeed, bleeding, from every pore in her body, her winter clothes soaked through with the red liquid. She couldn’t move. When she realized that Amy was reaching for her face, her exposed face, Rogue could only stare at her helplessly.

“Oh no, oh no, please baby girl, DON’T TOUCH ME!” she screamed in warning, too weak to pull away. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt little hands cup her face.

Through the haze of her rapidly disappearing consciousness, she heard Amy plead, “Please don’t cry Miss Rogue, please don’t cry!” as little hands rubbed against her cheeks.

Then, there was blackness.


*****


“… her mutation is…”

“ …little Andrew …”

“…Amy’s so…”

“…tell Kurt he needs to wait like everyone else...”

All these voices were making her headache worse. Rogue didn’t feel too good. In fact, she felt like she was hit by a truck. No, make that an envoy of tanks.

Opening her eyes was going to be extremely hard work, and more of her wanted to continue sleeping than wake up. Breathing was difficult. Everything felt difficult. She could feel her healing factor in overdrive and yet, she was still in a lot of pain. Damn it, but why did it hurt so much?

“I’m so sorry, Miss Rogue. Please, please wake up.”

She heard Andrew’s voice. Oh god. Please. No, no, NO! Ah touched him. Ah killed him….

“NO!” She bolted upright, eyes wide in terror. She felt strong arms grab her and she pushed against them, horrified. Wildly, she jumped off the hospital bed, ripping tubes and needles from her body. She heard his tiny voice again, exclaiming, “I want Miss Rogue asleep again, Dr. Beast, please make her go to sleep again!”

Startled, she spun around and found herself staring down at a very afraid little boy. Andrew stared back, still scared, but brave enough to say, “I know you’re really, really mad Miss Rogue, but I’ve been telling everyone that I’m really, really sorry. I mean it!”

Rogue blinked, and then blinked again. She knelt in front of him. “Andrew,” she whispered, amazed, “You’re okay?”

His face twisted, offended. “Me? It’s you that got really hurt. By me.”

Rogue began to laugh. The little brat was actually a bit proud of himself. She hugged him to her, holding his little body against her. The little boy began to cry, whispering in her ear so that no one could hear as his little arms squeezed her as hard as they could. “I was so scared Miss Rogue.”

“Ah know baby, Ah know,” she whispered back. She became aware of the others in the room and stood up to face them. Rogue remembered everything.

“Amy honey, come here.”

The little girl ran to her from behind Hank where she was hiding. “Miss Rogue, I am so happy you’re okay!”

Rogue picked her up in her arms, and sat back on the medical bed. Her eyes caught Charles Xavier’s and his image blurred slightly as her eyes filled with tears. “Ah’m more than okay.”

Rogue ran her ungloved fingers up and down the little girl’s arms comfortingly, her bare hands warm against the young girl’s cool skin.


*****


The X-Men were gathered in the hospital room, minus the Wolverine, Gambit and Cyclops who were still on their recon mission and had yet to return. The remaining super heroes were smiling at the young woman standing before them, their faces expressing their happiness for her.

“Ah can hardly believe it.” Rogue looked at her dear friends, still in shock.

Ah can control my skin. Oh my god, Ah can control it!

Professor Xavier was beaming. “Yes Rogue, you can control your skin. In fact, there are many facets of your mutation that you can now control. Your desire to not hurt Andrew made you shut off his mutation on contact, and you were able to shut off your mutation completely as demonstrated when young Amy touched you. Congratulations, my dear."

The enormity of the morning’s events were beginning to sink in. Rogue stared at her ungloved hands. “Ah can touch,” she whispered. “Ah can touch.” She began to cry deep, hard, gut wrenching sobs.

Jubilee and Kitty were the first to reach her, hugging her tightly and sobbing themselves. Rogue touched her best friends’ faces with her bare hands, and there was no flinch, not an iota of fear on their faces. Then they laughed.

Laughed and laughed and laughed.

Next was Kurt, who hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek tenderly; Ororo took Rogue’s face into her hands and kissed her forehead: and Hank kissed her hand gallantly, before crushing her into a bear hug. There were tears in everyone’s eyes.

Charles Xavier took her ungloved hands into his, his thumbs rubbing over on top them, telling her, “Dearest Rogue. The world is your oyster.”

Rogue looked deep into his eyes, clutching his hands. Thank you, Professor Xavier. Thank you for everything.

The Blackbird landed just before midnight.

Its three passengers were grim-faced, silent as they went about shutting the aircraft down. When the Wolverine walked past the locker room and entered the elevator, Gambit moved to stop him - wearing the X-Men uniform upstairs was forbidden – but Cyclops held up his hand, silencing him.

“Leave him be, Gambit.”


******


Three hours earlier

They were in the Arizonian desert, outside the F.O. H. Headquarters.

Cyclops informed Wolverine, via telelink, that the Professor wanted them to return to the X-Mansion, and instructed him to erase evidence of their presence until they returned the next day to complete the recon mission. It didn’t take much to persuade Logan to abandon their mission temporarily, images of Rogue never far from his thoughts. As he made his way back to the cloaked jet, a wave of anticipatory energy raced through him, remembering the last time he was with her. He had so much to teach her, and he intended to show her, in excruciating detail just how touchable she was.

He crouched, instincts on alert, before two metal tentacles swirled towards him from behind the outcropping where the Blackbird was hidden, taking him almost by surprise. They wrapped around his neck and legs, revealing Omega Red, the Russian super-soldier.

“Where is it?”

Wolverine’s throat was being crushed, and his chest heaved from the effort to breathe. Snarling, his claws sprang from his fists, scraping along the metal of the thick cords that held him, but they tightened, threatening to snap his vocal chords.

“This is almost too easy. You have become predictable, complacent,” the super human hissed, pulling Wolverine up to his metallic face. “Immersing yourself with these X-Men dulls and weakens you, Weapon X. It’s pathetic.” His red eyes reflected his derision. “Tell me the location of the Carbonadium Synthesizer,” he demanded. “Do so quickly, and I might allow you the honor of a warrior’s death.”

Wolverine didn’t know what the larger man was talking about. He cracked his head against the Russian’s nose, its cartilage making a sickening sound as it smashed on contact, blood pouring down the front of his red uniform. Wolverine flung himself over the former Soviet superhero, using his shoulders as leverage, before wrapping his arms about the large man’s neck in a choke-hold.

“I don’t know what the fuck yer talking about, but yer about to die, and there’s gonna be nothin’ honorable about it.”

Arkady Rossovich realized Wolverine didn’t recognize him. With a roar, he grabbed hold of the feral’s head and hurtled him forwards, his powerful strength managing to launch him several meters away. “Still playing amnesiac, are we?” the blonde-haired monster taunted, attempting to distract the dangerous mutant that was about to skewer him. “How quaint. And convenient. Tell me, is it easier to live without the memory of your murdered wife when you play super hero with your X-Men?”

Wolverine thought he was referring to Viper, the woman he divorced in Madripoor, but she was still alive. Seeing his confusion, the evil super human elaborated, his red eyes glowing.

"Ah, yes. Itsu was her name. You married her just after the Second World War, after Ogun sent you to Jasmine Falls to train with the ninjas there. You should have known better, Weapon X, should have known you couldn't hide away in that remote Japanese mountain village forever.” His eyes darkened, continuing in a low, malicious voice, “Creations as valuable as us can’t play house, comrade, can’t play husband. Or father. It causes bullets to fire through pregnant bellies of women." He smiled, cruelly. “Yes, your unborn child, dead. How fortuitous that you can't remember.”

Wolverine stood there, stunned by the lack of deception in Red Omega’s scent, and the Russian immediately took advantage of his momentary loss of concentration. He ran forward and thrust his sword through the Wolverine, twisting the weapon deep in his gut before lifting it up to slice through the feral’s sternum. Thick, red blood ran over his powerful forearms, and the Russian knocked him out with a snap of his carbonadium tentacles.

The sound of a helicopter could be heard in the distance and Omega Red cursed loudly when Cyclops and Gambit jumped in front of the large Russian, blocking his escape with the Wolverine.

“Surrender, Omega Red,” Cyclops demanded, hand on his visor, and Gambit stood beside him, his hands ominously glowing from the charged cards he held within them. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Helicarrier hovered directly above them and scores of men in black combat fatigues rappelled down to the ground, encircling the four mutants with their weapons drawn.

Omega Red roared, throwing the inert Wolverine towards Cyclops and Gambit and whipping his tentacles towards the small army that had suddenly appeared. Several ropes whistled through the air, swinging around and entangling him and he dropped to the ground, immobile. A lone figure landed beside him, and with a quick strike, knocked him unconscious with the back of his gun.

“We’ll take it from here, Cyclops.” Colonel Nick Fury told the X-Men leader, swinging his weapon back over his shoulder as he stood over the subdued super soldier. He jerked his head towards his men, and they grabbed hold of the giant, motionless Russian, before propelling back into the large aircraft above them.

“Just a second, Fury,” protested Cyclops, stepping forward, “Omega Red attacked an X-Man. He’s our prisoner, not S.H.I.E.L.D’s.” Cyclops frowned, seeing the colonel wrap the last remaining rope around his arm, stepping onto the loop at its end.

“He is an unauthorized Russian national on American soil, Cyclops. Best you forget you ever saw him. Or me.” He tugged at the rope and was immediately pulled upwards, back into the huge aircraft. Within moments, it left, leaving Cyclops and Gambit to carry Wolverine back to the Blackbird.

When Wolverine came to, recovered from his wounds, he remained dangerously quiet.


*****


He tried to recall her face, but he remembered nothing, felt nothing, only the growing need for revenge. The sublevel elevator doors swished open to reveal the main floor of the academy, sounds of celebrating reaching Logan’s ears. He glanced at the large grandfather clock that stood sentry in front of the main staircase.

11:48pm

Ignoring them, he strode up the stairs to the third floor and he caught her scent just before he swung open the door to his room. Rogue was sitting in the dark, on the edge of his bed, her hair falling in loose waves to her shoulders. She was wearing a silk, green robe, wrapped tightly about her body, feet bare and hands encased in her ever present black silk gloves.

“Why aren’t you downstairs, kid?” His voice was sharp. He tore off his mask and gloves and began working on taking off his boots. Rogue saw that his uniform was torn and bloodied.

“What happened?” She stood up, concerned.

“You’ll find out tomorrow morning at the debriefing,” he informed her abruptly, unzipping his uniform before disappearing into the bathroom.

Rogue heard him turn on the water for a shower. She nervously played with the sash that held her robe in place, listening to the sound of water coming from the bathroom. After a few minutes, she glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

12:03am

Happy New Year to me, she thought bemusedly, sitting back down.

After a few more minutes, the sound of spraying water stopped and she took in a shaky breath in an attempt to calm her pounding heart. Logan strode back into the room and she stared. He was completely, gloriously naked.

“Why are ya still here?” he growled at her, quickly wrapping the towel he was using to dry his hair around his hips. He crossed his arms across his chest, a scowl on his face.

Logan could smell her fear, her apprehension as she stepped towards him, her burning eyes pouring over him. Moonlight from the window cast a soft glow, caressing every curve and line of her. She reached for his hand, pulling it towards her and he braced himself as he felt the soft, warm skin of her smooth cheek.

Logan stared at her, and then at his hand, and she smiled shyly as she saw understanding dawn in his eyes.

She pulled apart the tie that kept her robe together, letting the delicate garment drop soundlessly to the floor, falling in a silken pool at her feet. She stood before him, every inch of her exposed, dressed in nothing but black opera gloves. Blood rushed through him, eyes pouring over her perfect, alabaster skin. Slowly, he pulled off each glove, dropping them to the floor before he placed her hand on his chest, directly over his heart. His golden eyes darkened as their hearts began to beat in tandem, the sound of the harmonized rhythm pulsating in their ears.

Logan lowered his head, his breath warm against her cheek and she lifted her face upwards, lips parted. He dropped his head further, the distance between them closing, and her breath arrested, the awareness that she was about to be kissed, truly kissed, racing through her. When he was about to slant his mouth over hers, she pulled away.

This was her moment.

Rogue’s mouth claimed his with a ferocity and hunger that surprised them both, opening her mouth to deepen her kiss, her tongue swirling over his, dominating, almost angry, breathing in his surrendering moan. Her hands crawled over his broad shoulders, burying her fingers into his hair to expose his throat, before breaking away to fasten her mouth over the pulse beating erratically at its base.

“Oh god, Marie,” he told her, his voice hoarse, taking her into his arms, pressing his heated skin against hers. “I need you. I need you.”

Rogue was scared. He watched the emotion skip over her face and she fought it, her breath shallow and quick. When her eyes captured his, he saw something, bright and vivid, within their jade depths. Before he could decipher what it was, she pressed herself intimately against him, letting him know she was his. His. The Wolverine growled, but still, he held back. Taking his face into her hands tenderly, Rogue looked into his lust-blinded eyes.

“Ah love you, Logan.” She was looking at him, unafraid. And he knew, with every piece of his undeserving soul, that she loved him, because it was all there, everything, in her beautiful eyes.

Fragments, snatches of non-linear moments from his past clawed forward, scratching jealously into his consciousness - Janet, Mariko, Kayla, Jean - women who loved him, women he had loved. All dead. Because of him.

And now a forgotten wife and their unborn child, killed. Because of him.

“No.”

His voice sounded far away. Closing his eyes, he turned away from her, a piercing pain shooting through him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her hot, supple body pressed against his rigid back. He ran his fingers through his hair, breathing raggedly.

“This can’t happen, Marie.” He grabbed her hands, forcing her to release him, unable to look at her.

Her voice sounded small, confused. “Ah don’t understand.” He didn’t respond, staying quiet, his face shuttered, and he let go of her hands.

She stepped in front of him. “Ah love you.” Her eyes tried to capture his again, but he looked away, angry, so she caught his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her.

“Don’t,” he told her harshly, stepping away from her.

“Ah always loved you,” she confessed softly, her hand reaching out to stroke his hair.

“No!” He shouted the word this time, snapping his head back, away from her touch.

Rogue kissed him, kissed his eyelids, his forehead, his cheeks and jaw, her kisses growing more desperate when he continued to stand there, unresponsive. “Please,” she begged, her hands shaking as she placed them against the hard planes of his chest. “Please, please, don’t do this.”

He pushed her roughly away from him. “No.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but the growing lump in her throat prevented her. She could only manage a whisper, telling him. “Ah can’t stop loving you, Logan. But if you don’t want my love,” she squeezed her eyes tight and took in a painful breath before continuing, “Ah promise you will never hear those words from me again.” She looked up at him, eyes swimming in tears.

“You don’t have to love me. Just let me have this, Logan. Just one night, with you.”

Wolverine closed his eyes, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“No.”

She bowed her head and dissolved into tears as a crushing pain exploded inside her. She could barely hear him getting dressed into his training uniform as she held back her sobs, struggling to breathe. The bright light from the hallway hit them both when he opened the door and then, with no hesitation, he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

She crawled into his leather chair, grabbing the jacket that was draped along its back and clutched it to her, burying her face into the cigar scented leather.

Rogue didn’t join the others for the debriefing New Year’s Day.

Her absence was explained as being due to her recuperating from the previous day’s events, Professor Xavier bringing Gambit and Cyclops up to speed at their looks of confusion. Wolverine sat in the back of the meeting room, sullen and unapproachable in his impatience, ignoring the pointed looks Charles sent his way. He spent all night in the Danger Room, and his resolve to stay away from Rogue was deteriorating with every second that he remained in the mansion.


Let’s GO, damnit!


Professor Xavier winced from the psychic shout Logan bellowed at him. With a growl, Logan stormed out of the debriefing room, making his way through the lower levels to get to the hangar where he quickly boarded the Blackbird. Alone, he buried his head in his hands, struggling to keep his composure, desperate to get far away from the woman upstairs.

“He’s pissed off,” noted Jubilee unnecessarily. The others looked at her, annoyed and she shrugged her shoulders. “Well, he is.”

The professor cleared his throat, choosing to ignore her comments, and came to the end of the meeting. “There is a lot at stake, X-Men. Based on what Cyclops has shared with us, it appears certain governments are restarting mutant suppression protocols. ” He paused, looking to each of them. “With rumors of a proposed Mutant Registration Bill running rampart, knowledge will be our greatest defense. Destroying these facilities prematurely will only cause these groups to go even further underground so, for now, we keep our ears to the ground.”

The X-Men around the large conference table stood up, nodding in understanding. Cyclops motioned for Gambit to follow him and they returned to the Blackbird to join the Wolverine, who was already fully strapped in the co-pilots seat. Within moments, the powerful machine lifted into the early morning air, and took off with a sonic boom that reverberated throughout the mansion, startling Rogue awake from where she had fallen asleep in Logan’s chair.

Blinking slowly, she didn’t recognize where she was. The memory of what happened hours earlier came rushing forward and reality crashed down around her with merciless clarity.

She curled back up into a ball, drawing Logan’s jacket around her, and cried.


*****


She straightened up his room, throwing out his destroyed uniform, tidying the bathroom and smoothing out the wrinkled bedspread. She placed his jacket back across the chair, and left for her own room. The heaviness in her chest seemed to be growing and Rogue could barely breathe.

After taking a shower, she wiped the steam away from the mirror and stared back at the woman inside it. After what she had been through the past week, she expected her hair to be a rainbow of colors. She tugged at the platinum streak, thoughts hurtling her back in time.


Ah kinda like it.


Her pain spiked at the memory. She turned away and re-entered her room, feeling caged by its four walls. The sky outside was stormy, the clouds hanging low outside her bedroom window and she stood there for a while, staring sightlessly into the distance.


*****


Kitty and Jubilee looked at their friend warily when she finally answered their incessant knocking on her bedroom door. Stepping inside, their eyes fell to the two bags of luggage set at the foot of the neatly made bed. They noticed that the walls and furniture were bare.

“Rogue?” Kitty looked at Rogue questioningly.

“Ah have to go.” She had her green cape over her arm, leather gloves in hand.

Jubilee felt herself becoming angry. “I think you’ve been hanging out with the wolfster a little too long. You don’t have to go anywhere, you got us. Whatever it is, we can help you. We’re supposed to be your best friends.”

Rogue winced at the reminder of Logan. With a watery smile, she replied quietly, “You are my best friends. But this is something Ah need to do. On my own.”

The yellow clad mutant opened her mouth to argue but Kitty tugged at her arm and shook her head, her brown eyes filling with tears. “Does this have anything to do with the stranger that came here a few days ago?” she asked gently.

Rogue looked at her, conflicted. Should she tell them? Should she tell them that her heart was in a million pieces? That the thought of seeing Logan again was too much for her to bear? That she had realized, after so many years, that the only reason she had stayed, was for him? That she had been hoping, in vain, that he would come back to her, for her? That he would love her?

Averting her gaze from the concerned eyes of her friends, she nodded, and her vision blurred once again with tears.

The two young women hugged her, and she allowed herself cry in their arms. They offered her words of comfort, and Rogue took it greedily, feeling like she would never again be able to breathe deeply, that she would never stop crying over her aching, broken heart.


*****


“Is this what you truly want, Rogue?”

Professor Xavier was sitting behind his desk, his eyes intent on the young woman seated before him. Her hands were once again encased in gloves, dressed in the green hooded cloak he first saw her wearing when she arrived at the academy all those years ago. She wore her misery just as tightly around her.


~ Let me help you Rogue. ~


Rogue mentally pushed back, hard. “Please don’t, Professor,” she requested softly. She felt him pull away from her mind immediately, his apology sincere.

“I am sorry, Rogue.” He looked at her compassionately. “Your pain is very harsh. Do you think it’s prudent for you to leave like this?”

Tears slipped out of her eyes, and she wiped them away tiredly, wet spots darkening the leather of her gloves. In a subdued voice, she told him, “Ah can’t stay here. Ah can’t bear it, sir.” She covered her face in her hands, ashamed of her tears.

He went to her and held her as she sobbed, her suffering overwhelming him. She accepted the handkerchief he offered and wiped away the tears on her cheeks. Her eyes were even dimmer, looking much older than her twenty years as she stood up, her face haggard with sorrow.

“Rogue, if you would allow me one suggestion.”

She nodded, biting her lower lip to stop its trembling. He took her hands into his. “Live your life. Wring from it every drop of experience you can, good and bad, and fight for the happiness you deserve. Remember, you will always have a place here, with the X-Men. This will always be your home.”

And Charles Xavier let her go.

Rogue left his office and walked swiftly through hallways, the clicking sounds of her boots against the wooden floors quickening. She couldn’t breathe, the hurt overwhelming her so she began to run. She ran down the stairs, across the foyer and through the large front doors into the waiting taxi outside.

She lay down on the backseat and buried her face into her arms, her shoulders shuddering from the sobs that ripped out of her. The car pulled away slowly and many tear-filled eyes watched the yellow colored vehicle glide down the snow covered driveway, past the iron gates and into the night.

Rogue was gone.

“Enough!”

The two men looked to Professor Xavier, furious, as he held them suspended in the air under his telepathic paralysis. Both Wolverine and Gambit were breathing heavily from the exertion of battling each other, shards of the common room’s windows and their splintered wood frames lying below them in the freshly fallen snow. The screams of terrified students could still be heard from within the mansion.

Charles Xavier was angry.

“Let go, Chuck," Logan snarled, his adamantium claws glinting in the moonlight as he strained against the hold the professor had on him. “Little gumbo boy needs to learn a lesson.”

The Cajun’s eyes flared dangerously, his cards lit with energy in his immobile hand. “Dis animal needs to be housetrained, m’sieur,” he retorted through clenched teeth. “And Gambit is more than up to the job.”

Professor Xavier tightened his hold and they both grunted in unison. “I will not have my students and my school in danger because of your inability to control yourselves. Either this stops immediately, or I’ll resort to reducing you both to infantile states. Am I clear?”

Wolverine growled in disgust. “I have a right to defend myself, Wheels. The ragin’ Cajun is the one who came lookin’ for a guaranteed beating.”

“Dis one is going to tear you…” Gambit choked on his words when the Professor tightened his hold further on the younger man, releasing the older.

Logan landed in the snow and glared at Charles. “Next time, make sure to knock me out ‘cause I won’t let ya get away with that shit again.” He sheathed his claws and strode back into the mansion.

Charles kept his attention on Remy. “You need to calm down, Remy.” He loosened his hold but maintained the telepathic paralysis on the angry mutant.

The cards in his hand remained charged. “Dis is Remy’s fight, old man.”

“Is that so? Well Mr. LeBeau, tell me, what is it that makes you feel you have the right to attack your fellow team mate?” Professor Xavier asked calmly.

Gambit eyes flashed red fire. “He is de reason Rogue is gone!”

Professor Xavier waited patiently when the kinetic energy controlling mutant renewed his struggle and although difficult, he managed to contain him.

Barely.

With sympathy, the professor told him, “Rogue left on her own volition, Remy. It was her decision to leave.”

“Mensonges!” Gambit spat out. Charles felt his hold beginning to slip, his earlier hold on Logan having weakened him considerably. Both men were surprised when suddenly the Cajun was swept up in a wind made funnel.

“End this childish display, Remy,” Storm demanded, her white tresses flowing wildly about her head, eyes glowing like mirrored opaque orbs.

Gambit put away his cards and put his bow staff behind his back. “Dis one is angry, cher.” The wind blew his hair about him, his handsome face dark in its fury.

The weather goddess waved the funnel cloud away, telling him, “She chose to go Remy, your anger is not justified. Rogue does not belong to you.”

Remy stepped onto the snow covered ground, tense. “Does she belong to him?” he bit back, head averted from his good friend.

Storm stood beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Rogue belongs to no one but herself. If you truly care for her, let her go. I am sorry she didn’t reciprocate your affections for her, but that’s your demon to battle. And its name is not Wolverine.”

Professor Xavier could feel the raw emotion in the Cajun. Knowing he was in good hands with Ororo, Charles walked back into the mansion to locate the man who surprised him most with his reaction to the loss of Rogue.


*****


Professor Xavier found him in the upper levels of the library, standing off to the side of one of the large windows where he was watching Ororo comfort Remy in the front courtyard. Walking silently into the room, Charles stood beside him, and waited.

“I don’t know how it happened.”

Charles nodded, saying nothing.

He clenched his jaw repeatedly before continuing. “I admire everything about her. Her bravery, her sense of responsibility, her kindness and intelligence. I have seen her grow into a strong woman and step out from under the shadow of the Wolverine. Maybe it began when she decided to remain with us instead of going off to college with the rest of the younger X-Men. Her sense of duty, her loyalty is heady stuff to a man like me.”

Silence again. The professor knew that he wanted no advice. He just needed to talk.

“I know that Rogue caring for me more than a friend is unlikely.” He looked away from the hugging pair below him and fixed his gaze on the professor. “And I know that what Logan and her have is powerful. But I still want her near me, I still want her here. And now Rogue’s gone.” His fingers curled into fists.

Charles Xavier sighed deeply. “She made the decision to leave.”

“Did she Charles?” He retorted angrily, “Did she really? The Rogue I know would never leave unless she felt she had no choice. This was her home, and now that Logan is back, she’s gone. I want her back,” he said softly. “It took her leaving to realize that I’ve fallen in love her. I never even got to say goodbye.”

Professor Xavier chose his next words carefully. “Rogue has had a very difficult life before arriving here. Her mutation has felt like a curse to her. Now, with her new found control, she can determine the direction her life will take. She is a young woman who never got to experience life on her own terms. The future is open ended, not predetermined as so many of us prefer to believe. Rogue needs to decide what her future will be, free of obligation. And that includes the X-Men.”

Scott Summers took in a deep breath, knowing he was right. And he was all too aware that once again, he and Wolverine shared a love for the same woman.


*****


Logan dropped several sheets of wood onto the floor of the common room and began to board up the huge gaping hole he and Gambit had caused earlier that evening. Or rather, the huge gaping hole Gambit caused when he blasted him through the windows onto the courtyard outside.

He pounded the nails into place, not bothering to acknowledge the presence of his closest friend watching him. Nightcrawler was a patient man however, and *bamfed* closer, inspecting the other man’s handiwork.

“Not bad, mein freund, I didn't know you were so handy. I think of you more as a smasher of things, rather than a builder.”

Logan grunted in response.

Kurt suspended himself upside down from one of the chandeliers within the large room, not bothered in the slightest that the conversation was one-sided. “Gambit seems upset by the departure of our lovely Rogue.”

There was no hesitation in the hammer as Logan pounded another board into place.

“Yes,” the blue furred man continued, “Rogue seems to bring out powerful emotions in people. Today vas a particularly sad day in our school, not a dry eye to be found."

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“I tried to make her stay, but,” the German born mutant paused and then said deceptively softly, “she vas determined to leave.”

Logan dropped the hammer to his side and turned to look at the blue transporter. He didn’t need heightened senses to know that Nightcrawler was angry. “Look Kurt, I’m gettin’ her back. As soon as I am done here, I will track her down so ya don’t need to worry about her. She’s got a few hours under her belt and by the time I catch up to her she’ll be ready to come back.” He turned away to grab another board.

Nightcrawler teleported directly in front of him and tore the hammer out of Logan’s hands, throwing it to the floor. His eyes glowed ominously amber, and bared his demonic-like teeth in barely suppressed fury.

“You arrogant man,” he hissed, grabbing the larger man’s shirt and slamming him hard against the recently nailed up board, causing it to splinter apart. “Do you not realize that Rogue is gone? For good? She does not vant to be found, least of all by you. I have seen that girl go through many things, most vithout you around, and she has bounced back vith increasing strength and maturity. But this time,” he shook Logan harder for emphasis. “She seems defeated. And I think it’s because of you.”

The Wolverine glared at Nightcrawler, fighting the instinct to retaliate in kind to his aggression. He couldn’t recall ever seeing Kurt so angry. So, he wisely stayed quiet. Seeing that he wouldn’t get the fight he was spoiling for, Kurt released his hold on Logan and angrily rubbed his three fingered hands through his hair, his pointed tail swishing agitatedly behind him. “You are a dear friend Logan, and I strive to be a creature of God. But I fear Rogue’s very soul has been vounded.”

Logan remained silent. Frustrated, Kurt told him, “I for one, am happy that she has left. I am happy that she has left you. You are nothing but trouble for her. She is young, and she deserves a happy life avay from you."

“At least we agree on something,” Logan muttered.

Kurt got right in his face again. “So you vill leave her alone, yes?”

“After I find her.” He picked the hammer up off the floor and turned his back to the teleporter, ripping off the shattered board to replace it with a new one. Before Kurt could argue further, they heard the sound of a throat being cleared behind them. Logan knew who was there, knew for a while, but he was beginning to get annoyed. These distractions were delaying him from completing this job so he could leave and find Rogue. He would get her back, safe and sound back in the X-Mansion and then he would leave. Permanently this time.

“That won’t be necessary Logan.” Professor Xavier’s voice rang clear and strong throughout the room. “Rogue is gone.”

“Says you,” Logan replied, nails clenched between his teeth as he pounded the last board into place.

“Say all of us.”

Wolverine turned around and standing before him was all of the X-Men. The looks on their faces ranged from angry to serious to sad. He cocked an eyebrow at them, fixating his gaze on the Cajun standing by Storm.

“Come back for more, bayou boy?” he taunted, slapping his palms together to free the wood dust that had accumulated on his hands. Remy lit up a card and held it menacingly but Storm grabbed his hand and shook her head. Logan laughed derisively.

“Listen,” he told them, his irritation evident as he tested each board for strength. “I will get Rogue back before she gets herself into trouble. Not that it’s any of yer business, but if she did leave because of me,” he looked at each of them individually and ended with Professor Xavier. “Then don’t worry. I’m outta here as soon as she steps back into the school.”

Wolverine walked away from them, shrugging on his leather jacket as he made his way to the front foyer. He could still make out Rogue’s scent and figured it would only take a few hours to track her down. The front door handle refused to budge. He tried it several times, but it didn’t move. He turned to face the group that had now made their way into the entrance hallway, glaring at the professor specifically.

“This is gettin’ annoyin’,” he told them with a scowl. “Do ya want her back or not?”

“Not.” This came from Kitty.

“Not?” he echoed incredulously.

“Not,” repeated Professor Xavier. “Rogue has made her decision. We owe it to her to respect it.”

Logan stared at him, shocked. “You can’t be serious.”

Jubilee stepped forward. “Very serious.”

Wolverine could feel anger rising in his gut. “Are you all fucking nuts? She’s just a kid!”

Storm shook her head sadly. “You are wrong, Logan. Rogue is a child no longer. And like the rest of us, she has the right to discover for herself what she wants, who she is.”

Logan opened his mouth, and then shut it, deciding that they all lost their minds. He pointed at the door. “Open this door right now Chuck, or I’m gonna add to yer recent collection of gapin’ holes.”

Scott deliberately stood in front of the double doors, joined by Hank, both crossing their arms. “Let her go, Logan,” Beast said soberly.

Anger continued to rise inside him, and his breathing matched it. Wolverine fisted his hands and said through gritted teeth, “Move.”

His claws slid out slowly, threateningly, but the two men remained where they were.


~ Logan, I know you love her. ~


Fuck you, Wheels.


~ I can promise you that she will remain safe. Let her go. ~


“Fuck you, Wheels,” he said out loud, never taking his eyes off Scott.

They all bristled at his words but one by one, they joined Cyclops and Beast by the front door. Kitty and Jubes were openly crying, but they looked at him, defiant.

Logan stepped back, looking at his team mates, his friends. “Don’t you care for her?” he demanded of them. “That she belongs here?”

Scott stepped forward. “Yes,” he told the feral mutant, “We all know that Rogue belongs here. But she needs to figure that out for herself.”

Tense moments passed. Logan directed his fierce glare to the floor and with tremendous effort, retracted his claws. He strode away from them and made his way through the empty and cold manor, stalking into his bedroom and slamming the door forcefully behind him. Her scent was still in the air, in his leather chair, in the jacket he was wearing, the scent marred by the stench of her tears. He caught sight of the only photo in the room, and he reached for it before dropping his heavy frame into the chair.

It was a photo of Rogue, Jubilee and Kitty when they were all very young, taken around the time when they both first arrived in the mansion. It was given to him as a Christmas present that same year, by Jubilee. His fingers gently caressed Rogue’s younger face, the expression on it scared and unsure. Heartache spread brutally from his chest.

Rogue was gone.


*****


The taxi rolled silently up the dusty, pebble strewn driveway, stopping in front of the pathway that led to the large plantation-style home. The vehicle’s back seat occupant found herself trembling as she looked at the familiar wrap-around porch that fronted the three floors of the mansion.


Willowbend Manor.


The back door swung open, and the driver offered his hand to assist her out of the car in an easy, southern manner. He quickly retrieved her luggage from the back of the cab and tipped his hat in appreciation when she tipped him generously. With a smile, he stepped back into the vehicle before rolling back down the magnolia tree-lined drive.

She stood there in the early morning Mississippi sun, willing herself to move forward. She could sense the many eyes that were staring at her through the windows, the rustling of hastily dropped curtains betraying their presence when she swung her gaze upwards. Familiar scents and sounds assailed her senses as she walked up the expansive steps that led to the massive front doors. They swung open, revealing a well dressed butler who indicated with a sweeping arm gesture for her to enter. She thanked him and another house servant appeared to retrieve her luggage from her hands. The smell was stronger now, and her suspicions were confirmed.

Swallowing the growing lump in her throat, she made her way to the sweeping Scarlett O’Hara staircase that lead up to the upper floors. She placed one foot in front of the other, to the top floor where she walked silently down the wide hallway to its very end. She found a set of double doors left slightly ajar and she paused, tears blurring her vision. She quickly blinked them away and stepped through.

The scent within the room was pungent and her eyes were drawn to the prone figure lying on the bed. His head was turned towards the French doors that led out to a balcony that she knew overlooked the back gardens. Sitting next to the bed in an old rocking chair, was Nanna. She looked almost exactly the way Rogue remembered her, except for the few wrinkles that lined her cocoa colored skin and a slight peppering of her once completely ebony hair. Their eyes met and the older woman covered her mouth with her hands, eyes widening from shock.

“What is it, Nanna? Has my angel arrived for me?” The man’s voice was hoarse with resignation.

Rogue moved forward, and placed herself in front of the French doors. The man’s face crumpled with relief, and he exclaimed. “It’s Prissy, Nanna. She’s come to take me home.” The woman beside him began to weep at his words.

“No Daddy,” Rogue corrected him, in a voice barely over a whisper, “It’s Anna Marie. Ah’ve come home.”

Recognition dawned on the drained face of Owen D’Ancanto. He struggled to sit up and Rogue moved quickly, kneeling before him. He took her face into his too cold hands, his trembling fingers running over her face. “It is you. My beautiful Anna Marie,” he exclaimed wondrously. “Really and truly you.”

She nodded, not able to speak. The dying man took his long lost daughter into his arms with surprising strength, holding her tight.

“Ah am so sorry, my precious girl. For everything.” Rogue knew that he was, and a peace came over her.

Anna-Marie D’Ancanto was home.

FIVE YEARS LATER


“You have your revenge!” the old man screamed, glaring at the dark figure before him. “Does it give you peace, killing her?” he demanded, voice hoarse.

Blood dripped from his extended claws, adding to the stains on the once white kimono of the motionless woman at his feet. He kept his eyes fixated on the lifeless body, making no movement as the large wounds across his torso closed. It was done.

The Wolverine watched the man scramble to the mutilated body of his mistress. “No, Kiro,” he informed the crying man dispassionately, “Only Yuriko achieved it this day.” He sheathed his claws and walked away, the sound of anguished sobs following him.

The agents of the Hand watched him cross the large courtyard, making no move to stop the assassin who had just dispatched their female leader Lady Deathstrike in a ferocious battle minutes before. They looked to Lord Kiro, and with no indication that he wanted the great warrior restrained, their hands remained weaponless by their sides, as the Wolverine disappeared into the shadows. Once outside the compound, he leapt into the large copse of trees that cascaded down the Japanese mountainside, quickly making his way across the landscape lit faintly by a full moon suspended in a cloudless sky.

His countenance was foreboding. Another enemy down, scores more to go. It’s been a year since he regained his memory, but there was much left for him to do.

The Wolverine existed only for revenge.


*****


Dr. Henry McCoy pulled at the collar of his shirt, the movement threatening to burst the seams of the already tight fitting jacket of his tuxedo. Ororo Monroe sent him a warning glance and he stopped fidgeting immediately, settling down beside the beautiful mutant adorned in a sequined midnight blue gown. Beside the pair were Professor Charles Xavier and Scott Summers, both men dressed impeccably in black tuxedos themselves. They patiently looked to the stage, its six storied red velvet curtain yet to pull up to begin the evening’s performance.

La Scala was in fine form tonight; the Milanese crowd within its historic walls muted in their conversations despite the tense excitement in the air. The sounds of the orchestra warming up drifted up to them; violin strings strumming; wistful clarinets exhaling before the conductor rapped his wand sharply against the stand in front of him. The lights dimmed in response and a hush came over the crowd as the three opening chords of the Scarpia motif resounded ominously through the famed auditorium. Eight pairs of eyes were unblinking, waiting for “Floria Tosca” to make her appearance. And then, there she was.

Professor Xavier smiled. The reactions of the three people beside him were almost as entertaining as the performer on stage. He could hear Hank’s strangled gasp as the soprano’s voice rose up powerfully and Ororo pinched him; her eyes narrowing to keep him quiet, although her mouth had fallen open in shock.

Scott simply stared.

What a sight she was. Anna Marie D’Ancanto – Anina as she was adoringly referred to in the opera circuit – was giving the last performance of her famed career. She was Floria Tosca, the glorious singer deeply in love with the doomed artist Mario Cavaradossi and her suffering was palpable, her fury inciting. When she began to sing “Vissi d’arte” just before the end of Act Two, the exquisite coloratura of her soprano range cascaded over the distinguished crowd sitting at the edge of their seats. The haunting interpretation of the prayer libretto transcended them; the small form dressed in voluptuous scarlet robes seemed almost a trick. How could something so delicate expose such vocal strength? How could such youth be capable of taking hold of their hearts with such heartfelt angelic keening?

Even from where the X-Men sat, the emotions conveyed by Anina were genuine. As she delivered the final canto of the famous aria, everyone could hear the slight catch of her breath, an audible sob, before the lights dimmed and the curtain fell, stealing Anina away from their captivated sights.

Scott was the first to jump to his feet as thunderous applause exploded all around him, calls ringing out throughout the large theatre. Beast bellowed “Brava! Brava! Bravissima!” while Ororo covered her mouth with trembling hands, tears streaming down her cheeks. The applause continued, and the crowd’s appreciation only grew in volume as minutes passed. There came the stomping of feet above them from the loggionisti, with demands to see her, chanting her name.

“Anina! Anina! Anina!”

The conductor walked up from the pit and disappeared to the left of the stage. Moments later, he reappeared, leading Anina by the hand to the centre of the stage, releasing her with a dramatic flourish and expansive smile. The internationally acclaimed conductor took a few steps back, clapping his hands together forcefully and the orchestral members stood up as well, joining in the acclaim. The large crowd became frenetic. Anina surveyed the scene before her with wondrous eyes, taking in as much as she could, before tears blinded her, her advanced senses overwhelmed.

Do you see me, Daddy? Do you see me?

She knew this was the penultimate moment of her career. This made every sacrifice, every lonely, tired day and night as she perfected her craft, worth it. Her father had only asked one thing of her before he passed away, and she achieved it. For him.

Blowing kisses in every direction, pressing her hands to her heart with a mouthed, “Grazia” she left the stage, humbled. After the curtains came down for the last time later that night, and after repeated acquiescence to the audience to express their adoration for their Anina, she bowed with her fellow cast mates a final time, emotionally exhausted.

She found herself surrounded by a sea of roses, strewn across the stage in deference to her, and she bent down to grab a fistful of the fragrant blooms to press them to her face. She breathed in their delicate scent and mentally instructed herself to remember this exact moment in its every detail; the smell of the flowers, the dryness in her mouth; the rash of goose bumps across her flesh as she listened to the sounds of the still rapturous crowd. She opened her eyes and spun around slowly, taking in the gorgeous set, the riggings, the lighting and scenery just off to the side of the historic stage before she whispered her goodbyes and walked away.

The cast, ensemble choir, musicians, wardrobe and stage crew had a party in full swing backstage and she joined in the fun, grabbing one of the many bottles of champagne provided as her friends encircled her, chanting encouragingly, mimicking the chant from earlier.

“Anina! Anina! Anina!”

She popped its cork toward the ceiling and tilted the large bottle into her mouth, her throat struggling to swallow the quickly emptying fizzy liquid. She began to choke and sputtered explosively, prompting an older man to approach her and rub her back, laughing hard.

“Are you alright, Anna-Marie?”

She nodded, wiping moisture from her eyes. “I’m just fine, Oliver!” She placed the almost empty champagne bottle back on a table and hugged him tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear, voice cracking from emotion. “Thank you. For all of this.”

The small portly man returned the hug. “No, no Anna-Marie. Thank you.” He held her at arm’s length and regarded the beautiful woman in front of him before speaking again. “Who would have thought that after losing my protégé so long ago, she would return back to me to take the world by storm? That the little nine year old who disappeared from the Lynwood Academy for Girls without a trace would return eleven years later to fulfill her destiny, hmm?” His eyes filled with tears. “To think, my student, singing in all the greatest opera houses of the world. In La fucking Scala!”

Eyes wide, she shushed him, dissolving in a fit of giggles at the shocked expressions on the faces of the people who heard him. Her tutor and manager was clearly drunk, his southern gentleman demeanor on an inebriated hiatus. Wrapping an arm around him, she led him away from the party, apologizing profusely as she begged off her friends’ entreaties to join them for some late night celebrating. After ensuring Oliver Tremblant was safely ensconced in a hired car to deliver him back to his hotel, she made her way a little unsteadily to her dressing room. The champagne she had consumed so quickly had managed to make her a little tipsy, but by the time she reached her room, she was clear headed. She growled in annoyance. It would have been nice to enjoy the pleasant buzz a little longer, for once.

Walking in, she was amazed to see vases upon vases of red roses taking up every available space in the tiny room. Smiling, she sat at her dressing room table and looked at her reflection in the mirror. The woman smiling back at her with the outrageously puffed hair and now ruined theatrical makeup looked so happy. Her smile widened as she reached for the large jar of cold cream from the makeup console, understanding for the first time what it meant to live in the moment. It felt incredible. Bracing herself, she ripped off the fake eyelashes that rimmed her eyes before slathering the cream liberally over her face, grimacing in reaction to its horrendous smell. Leaving it on to work its magic, she shimmied out of her costume and put on a white terry robe, kicking the flats off her feet. She was tearing a thick brush through the backcombed mess that was her hair, when she heard a knock at the door.

Smiling, she threw open the door dramatically, intent on shooing her drunk colleagues away, but instead, dropped the brush to the ground in surprise. For a moment, her visitors looked as surprised as her, seeing her in what could only be described as the exact opposite of the performer they saw on stage. Her dark hair stood up in varying directions, her face completely covered in white gunk, dressed in a bulbous garment and her feet bare. Quickly picking up the dropped brush, Anina gaped at the quartet.

“Oh, for crying out loud!” exclaimed Hank, pushing past everyone and sweeping her up in his arms exuberantly, not caring that the cold cream smeared across his blue fur. “You were magnificent, Rogue! Absolutely, unequivocally spectacular!”

Laughing, she replied, “Thank you, Henry,” as he put her back down, startled by the sound of her old name.

Ororo reached for her hands, eyes shining brightly. “Sweetheart, you have the voice of an angel. You were extraordinary.”

Anina embraced her, taking care to not ruin her evening gown. “Thanks ‘Ro, that means so much to me.” She turned to Professor Xavier. “So tell me Charles, did you prefer this performance to the Met’s?”

Professor Xavier answered with a smile. “This performance was the most memorable. I think you left a bit of your soul on that stage, Anina.”

Looking up at him, Anna Marie’s heart squeezed at his insightfulness. He had been a part of this journey since its beginning, and she was grateful he remained to its end. At her question imparted telepathetically, he answered, “The children are excited, and are looking forward to seeing you again.”

Nodding happily, she turned her attention to the tall man who stood beside the Professor. “Scott?”

The X-Men leader reached out to rub away some of the cold cream that had found its way into her hair. Her eyes widened slightly at the tender gesture, and catching her reaction, he quickly dropped his hand to his side. “I had no idea you could sing,” he told her quietly in a low, intimate voice. She found herself at a loss for words, her cheeks warming. An awkward silence fell between them, and she tucked the hair that Scott had touched behind her ear, self-conscious.

“That,” declared Beast, “was the understatement of the year.” He looked about the room and clapped his hands, rubbing them together briskly. “Looks like a florist’s shop in here! We’ll help you bring everything to your hotel, my dear.”

Still blushing, Anna Marie stepped back to her dressing table and grabbed a face towel. “Thank you Hank, but my assistant will be delivering these flowers to the area hospitals and churches tomorrow morning,” she told him as she began to rub away her makeup. “It’s an understanding at La Scala amongst its performers.” She stepped behind a screen in the corner of the room, quickly pulling on the pair of blue jeans and simple green blouse that she had worn to the venue. She gathered up the remainder of her still tangled hair with both hands, and twisted it into a knot at the nape of her neck. “Sorry that I am so underdressed,” they heard her say and the woman they knew as Rogue reappeared before them.

The X-Men stared at her, taking in her appearance, free of artifice. She looked the same, eerily so, but there was something different about her. Professor Xavier cleared his throat, snapping them out of it and Ororo recovered first, linking her arm through her younger friend’s. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re here to see you, not your fancy diva clothes! Though I have to ask, how were you able to dye your white streak successfully away?”

Anna Marie reached up and fingered the hair along her forehead. “Brown powder. I still can’t dye it.” She rubbed a portion of it and sure enough, the familiar white strands gleamed through.

“Well good,” Ororo said, shaking the rest of the powder away. “I have always liked it.”

Anina laughed, looking pointedly at the other woman’s platinum hair. “How surprising.” They leaned into each other fondly.

“Well then,” Professor Xavier exclaimed affably, “How about we make our way to an establishment of fine refreshment? I have it on good authority that these premises need to be vacated by midnight, sharp.”

Beast rolled his eyes. “Showoff,” the doctor muttered under his breath good naturedly. The group of five friends lined up to leave the tiny room and Anna Marie took a deep breath and shut off the light, closing the door quietly behind her before catching up with them.

She was ready.

Anna Marie was sitting on the bench in the garden, watching the teenagers play football on the lawn in front of her. The New York summer sun was scorching, and the heat pressed against her skin despite the shade the large maple trees behind her provided. She recalled the last time she sat out here, five years ago when she was with Gambit, just a week shy of Christmas Day.


“Remy can’t bear dis torture, cher.”

Amused, Rogue shook her head at the handsome mutant. “Ah’m not torturing you, Remy. Don’t you know Ah want to kiss you?”

He took her gloved hands and pressed them against his face, sighing deeply. “So, kiss me.” He pulled her onto his lap, moving his hand along her ribcage, slowly sliding upwards, his other hand pressed against her back. He shifted his body and breathed into her ear, “Dis one can make you feel so good.” His voice was a sexy rumble, sending shivers over her body. “You would enjoy it, cher. Very, very much.”

Rogue closed her eyes and leaned against him, wanting to touch him, for him to touch her, and a hell of a lot more. Upset, she stood up and stepped away from him. “We can’t, Remy. Please stop making this so hard!” and she sprinted back to the mansion, ignoring his shout for her to stay.


A football landed close to her, startling her out of her thoughts. An apologetic student retrieved it, a boy about the age of sixteen, maybe seventeen, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek. The poor kid was projecting his sexual attraction to her so loudly, she almost winced. When he ran back to his friends, they all slapped him on the back and ribbed him and with her enhanced hearing, they might as well have been yelling in her ear.

“Damn Tommy, didja get a good look at that rack?”

“Oh man, Rogue’s so fuckin’ hot, what a piece of ass!”

“Fuck ya, she is one sexy bitch!”

They paused to look back at her and waved respectively, before returning to their game and she waved back, trying not to laugh. Too cute.

A slight breeze ran along her skin and she lifted the hair off her neck to catch most of it. She looked at her arms, and the tan she achieved earlier at the pool which was already fading back to its natural golden glow, the translucence of her teen years gone forever. She stood up and stretched out her limbs, feeling the eyes of the young men latch onto her as she made her way across the field and back into the mansion. Oh geez. Now I need to cover up for other reasons, she thought as their scents and thoughts crowded her, their very vivid imaginations almost making her blush.

It was summer and most of the students were home with their families. She had spent the past week catching up with her friends and reconnecting with her former students. Bobby, Piotr, Jubilee and Kitty were back with the X-Men, returning to become teachers in their own right for the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Bobby and Kitty were engaged to be married, Piotr had come out of the closet a few years back and as for Jubilee, she was more than happy remaining single. Ororo and Hank remained a couple, and Kurt was spending time with the Avengers, having abandoned his pursuit of priesthood a few years back. Gambit returned to New Orleans almost right after she left, off to investigate the return of his once dead ex-wife Bella Donna. Anna Marie’s heart twisted a bit; she always thought of him as her “what could have been” and she was surprised by the amount of disappointment she felt learning he was no longer with the X-Men.

But she was especially grateful that no one mentioned him to her.

She missed the Danger Room, she missed the gardens; she missed the library and lake and forest. It had been difficult staying away, but she never regretted her decision to leave, not once. Being here for those five years had been a self imposed exile, for so many misguided reasons, she had been afraid to go out into the world and instead lost herself within the school’s cavernous rooms, clinging to a childish dream, a ridiculous fantasy. Now, she was free.

She walked into her old bathroom, turning on the taps and stepping into the shower, enjoying the temperature changing from cool to warm on her skin. Afterwards, she sat at her dressing table and as she began to comb the long tresses that fell thickly to her hips, she assessed her reflection in the mirror.

The last traces of adolescence had left her face long ago. Her green eyes were brighter, changing from dark forest green to the lightest shade of sea in reaction to her emotions and they had become more feline in shape, framed thickly with long, black lashes. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows were darker now, and so was the hair that fell away from a defined widow’s peak behind the still shockingly white strip that used to define her. Her cheekbones sat high on a heart shaped face, comprised of a small, yet haughtily tilted nose, cleft chin and red, full lips. She was beautiful. Very, very beautiful. It was a useful asset, one that she used to her benefit many times. She resented the forced modesty she endured all those years ago because of her once dangerous skin, so a false modesty didn’t sit well with her. Anna Marie knew she was beautiful, sexy and desirable, and it showed in how she carried herself.

Satisfied that her hair was tangle free, she stood before the mirror, and cast her eyes along her body, still moist from her shower, the lines and curves unmarred, unblemished, strong and lush. She ran her fingers over her skin, enjoying how soft and smooth it felt. Her body had changed. Her waist was tiny, especially in comparison to her rounded hips and her breasts were, in her opinion, a bit too big now, soft but firm enough that wearing a bra wasn’t a necessity. Her body was stronger, much stronger, but looking at her, all you would see is curves. She made her way to the bed and lay down, her skin breaking out in goose bumps from the cool air of the central air conditioning blowing through the large manor, sensitive and responsive to the smallest of stimuli. She had acclimatized to her heightened senses, but her sense of touch was electric and if she could, she would be nude all the time. Closing her eyes, her hands began their familiar dance across her body.

There were many, many men in the beginning, but when the relationships turned physical, something ultimately repelled her. She visited strip bars and watched exotic films in attempts to quell her fickle sexuality, even experimented with other women, but it always ended the same. Something always reminded her of him. She tried to not think of him, tried desperately, and it took many months before she stopped crying from the heartache, to stop reliving that night over and over in her mind. He had been so cruel, so heartless.

She moaned, cupping her breasts into the palms of her hands, pinching their hardened tips. She easily recalled the feel of his hands, the pull and tug of his lips and teeth and she began to writhe on the large bed, her breathing slowing, deepening.


You want only my touch.


It was frustrating as hell, for the men she became involved with, and for her. Over time she simply stopped trying and she threw herself into her vocal studies, taking over any time she might have had socially. She became known as a person obsessed by her gift, collecting hearts and breaking them, cold and unattainable. It couldn’t have been further from the truth. It was torture. Anna Marie D’Ancanto was an extremely sexual creature. She cried tears of frustration, wishing someone could crash through her barriers, but after a while, no one dared try, her reputation isolating her. So all she had left were the memories of him, touching her, tasting her, kissing her.

Every night, sometimes several times a night, she would close her eyes and imagine he was with her, pretending her hands were his hands, caressing her throat and shoulders, grabbing at her breasts and then plunging deep into the core of her. She was panting hard now, caught up in her memories; legs spread open, fingers of one hand deep within her, fingers of the other, rubbing, encircling. Faster and faster, she pleasured herself, biting her lip from making any noise and she could feel his powerful body pressed against her, effortlessly holding her shivering body down as his fingers worked their magic. She could taste the salty tanginess of his skin, smell the deep musk that was him and she could hear his growls, his moans, his gasps of pleasure as her name fell from his lips. Tears stung her eyes, the hurt remaining just as breath stealing, never lessening in its intensity, the constant ache that had become a part of her.


Say my name darlin’, I want you to say my name.


She bit harder down on her lip, drawing blood. She never said his name. She gasped as her deft hands brought her to orgasm and she arched her body off the bed, running her hands over her heated skin, wringing what she could from her virulent incubus. She lay there, quivering, dissatisfied, unfulfilled. It was torture.

The X-Men were impressed with her proposal. Professor X stood beside her, having assisted her presentation and looked at his team for their reaction. Their field leader spoke first.

“We need this. Facilities here at the academy have reached capacity for the past year, our ability to accommodate our students compromised for some time now.” He looked around and acknowledged the sounds of agreement from his colleagues. The expression on his face softened, looking at her expectant face. “Whatever you need to get this done, you have it. The X-Men are on board, Rogue.”

She looked at him gratefully. “Thank you, Scott.” She took a deep breath and looked at each of them, gripping the edge of the large conference table with her hands. “Before I get started on this, it’s important to me that you all know my name. My real name.” She felt her eyes drawn to the ruby visored man across the room. “It’s Anna. Anna-Marie D’Ancanto.”

“Anna.” Scott repeated her name, slowly, as though tasting it. She stared at him, a thrill shooting through her, realizing she liked the way he made it sound. Liked it very much. He was looking at her intently, the expression on his handsome face mirroring the one he had when she had taken him to the airport just before she left the academy. But before she could give more thought to it, the rest of the X-Men stood up to hug and congratulate her, excited about her new project and what it meant to them as a whole. The prodigal daughter had returned, and with her, renewed hope in their constant battle of acceptance in the human world.


*****


Everything was a blur, meetings with architects and general contractors took up all her time as her childhood home became overrun with construction crews. They tore down walls and built others within its huge confines, built additions to flank the centuries-old manor to look as though they had been there all along. The horse stable was expanded, the pool made Olympic sized, and the empty land that led to the Pearl River gave way to manicured sports fields. Deep, deep underground, extensive rooms were built, including a medical bay and large sized training room to mimic the Danger Room back in New York. They built traditional classrooms, dance rooms, music rooms, playrooms, and a nursery along with a party room, large movie room and auditorium. Two large dormitories were built to border the large backyard courtyard, leaving the original garden surrounding the main house, untouched. The staff quarters were updated and added to, the kitchen made larger and the dining hall filled with child sized tables and chairs. The main manor remained mostly the same; attached now by the new extensions that housed the majority of the new rooms.

It took almost two years before Anna’s dream of providing a sanctuary for the growing group of very young mutants became a reality, a school to further advance their cultural and artistic talents while safely adjusting to their powers, nestled in the beauty of the lower Mississippi Bayou.


*****


Amy, Christie, Andrew and Julian, now all students of the Willowbend Junior Academy of the Arts, stood beside her as Anna faced the one hundred guests seated in the grand dining hall. All of Caldecott County’s elite were there, including the X-Men and forty plus students who would now be attending the new school.

“Good evening, everyone.” Her cultured voice carried easily through the room, traces of her southern Mississippi drawl having been eradicated by her strict vocal regimen long ago. “Tonight we celebrate the realization of a long held dream of mine to provide a school for our precious children, to afford them the opportunity to immerse themselves in the beauty of art, in all its forms, while ensconced in the glorious state of Mississippi.” All eyes were riveted to the beautiful woman, her hair pulled back into a tight but intricate bun, laced with red beads to match the scarlet satin gown she wore. “Each one of you has played a crucial role in making this a reality and I thank you, for being here tonight, and for your continued support and belief in me.” She raised her glass of champagne and rested her eyes meaningfully on Charles Xavier. With a loud cheer, everyone raised their glasses, and tipped its contents into their mouths, clapping as they settled into their seats, looking forward to the evening’s meal and entertainment.

Anna hugged the children around her, kissing them individually and Julian, as always, hung back, waiting for everyone to leave, uncomfortable with displays of affection. Grinning, she wrapped her arm around his slim young shoulders and gave him a shake. “You know that I’m going to kiss you, cutie pie.”

Blushing a very bright red, Julian looked away, mumbling resignedly, “I know.”

Laughing, she kissed him on the forehead, rubbing away the ruby coloured lipstick she left behind. “Close your eyes, Julian.”

Amused at the look of confusion on his face, she tilted her head and waited patiently for him to comply, which he did. She took his smaller hand into her own and pressed an item into it, wrapping his fingers over it. It was a turquoise marble he had given her seven years ago, the day she had left Westchester. She carried it with her everywhere, and it had come to symbolize her determination to create this haven for him, his friends and for the children who would come after them. His blue eyes filled with tears.

“You remembered, Miss Anna.”

“A promise is a promise, baby boy,” she told him seriously, hugging him tightly. “I told you I’d come back for you.”

She watched him join his friends at their table and turned to walk back to hers where the Charles Xavier, Oliver Tremblant, Nanna, Ororo, Hank and Scott were sitting. They all stood to greet her and she kissed their cheeks, her face beaming. Scott pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Congratulations, Anna.”

Anna was pleasantly surprised to feel the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach at his touch. Blushing, she thanked him before sitting down, recognizing the particular scent he gave off. Scott’s strong attraction to her was disconcerting. This was Cyclops, the fearless leader of the X-Men, her good friend and former teacher, past lover and fiancée of the legendary Phoenix. And he wanted her. She could feel the weight of his stare and she lifted her eyes in his direction, and their gaze remained locked until they were interrupted by the arrival of the meal’s first course.


*****


Charles Xavier had Anna’s arm linked through his, her hand cradled in both of his as they walked slowly along the cobblestone pathway that weaved through the back gardens of the new academy. The early summer night sky was clear, the stars in the sky bright, the air still and warm. It was the last night before the X-Men were returning to New York.

Anna sent an inquisitive look at her former mentor after answering yet another innocuous question he sent her way. “Is there something on your mind, Charles?”

He patted her hand affectionately before indicating she take a seat on the garden bench nearest them. “Is there something on yours, Anna?”

She averted her eyes, taking a few moments to collect her thoughts. “I never intended to keep anything from you, Charles.”

He sat beside her, patient. Sighing, she turned to him, her eyes bright. “Did you know, even back then?”

He regarded her silently before answering. “Yes.”

She nodded, leaning back against the bench, crossing her legs as she looked up into the sky. “It must have been very difficult for you to watch me leave, knowing.”

“Yes. It was.” The powerful telepath added carefully, “It wasn’t the best of times to discuss it.”

Anna swallowed hard. No, it wasn’t. “Were you concerned that I would…?”

Charles interrupted her. “Not at all, Anna. I can’t lie and say that I wouldn’t have much preferred you remained with the X-Men, but I knew you were than capable of controlling the evolution of your mutation. Life has taught me long, long ago that it can pull us in different directions. You made your decision. There is no right or wrong in the paths we choose, just in how we travel them.”

Another silence came over the pair. Anna spoke first. “My father allowed you into his mind. You knew everything.”

“Yes.”

The admission didn’t surprise her. “Why didn’t you throw me out right there and then, Charles?”

He looked at her, startled. “Why would I do that?”

“You knew where I came from, what I could be capable of.”

“My dear Anna,” he told her, his concern evident on his face, “you were only a child. What happened to your father wasn’t your fault.”

Her face shuttered closed. “That may be so, but I’ve made some bad choices in my life before you took me in.”

He hooked a finger under her chin and turned her face towards him. “You did what you had to, in order to survive. You were a child.”

Tears pooled in her eyes, the awful memories coming hard and fast to the forefront of her mind and as she struggled to maintain her composure, a dark shadow came over her face. “So much of my childhood has been built on lies, Charles. The only time I was ever free, was in the Lynnwood Academy, when I was alone.” She paused and her eyes glittered in hatred. “She took me away, convinced me that she loved me. I wanted to find her and destroy her for what she did.”

“Yet, you haven’t,” he pointed out to her quietly.

“No. I haven’t.” She looked into his eyes. “I won’t allow people I love to fall victim to a selfish need for revenge.” He sensed her pain switch to a different heartache and thoughts of Logan hung thick between them. Anna’s psychic defenses were down and she projected freely. “And I couldn’t allow what happened to my father, and to me, stop me from achieving this dream.” Her voice was quiet, but its strength and conviction resonated in the air around them. She looked unseeing into the sky, immersed in her memories.

“Anna.”

Her eyes flicked down to him. “Yes, Charles?”

“How many are there?”

She looked away again, surprised but grateful for the abrupt change of subject. “I’m not sure. I haven’t tried to find out,” she admitted. “I’m too afraid.” They sat there quietly for a few minutes.

“Can you control them, Anna?”

Anna stood up, rubbing her arms with her hands, suddenly chilled despite the humid night air. “You did a wonderful job, Charles. The confines are strong, they are impenetrable, and I am able to replicate them on my own. They fight to escape but they are harmless, their mutations are mine for the taking whenever I want.”

“Except for the Wolverine’s.”

The sound of his name echoed around them and Professor X watched her closely when she threw up her psychic walls once again. Clearing her throat, her voice void of emotion, she answered, “Yes.”

Standing up beside her, he pressed, “And why do you think that is, Anna?”

Her brow furrowed, she replied, “That question’s been answered years ago. My mutation recognized that a feral mutation was beneficial to its own so it absorbed it much in the way that it itself works. That’s what you told me.”

“Yes, when you didn’t have control of your original mutation. You have control now, Anna. Have you given any thought as to why you can’t switch off his mutation?”

She blinked several times, stunned. “I…I don’t know Professor.” She looked around, confusion marring her lovely face. “I’ve tried. Ever since my inner…”she couldn’t bring herself to say his name, so she didn’t. “Ever since you placed those boxes in my mind and captured every last psyche I absorbed.” She looked hopefully at the professor. “Maybe you can try for me again?”

Charles shook his head sadly. “I can’t. It’s a physiological mutation Anna and it’s engrained into your genetic code now, you can see it all over you. Your entire physical self has been altered.” She knew, but still, she had to ask. As much as it was an extremely useful mutation, it was a constant reminder of him, and she would willingly give it up if she could. Professor Xavier leaned towards her, lowering his voice. “It’s imperative that we keep this to ourselves, Anna. If this information got into the wrong hands…”

She closed her eyes and nodded quickly so he left the rest unsaid. Wanting no more secrets between them, she told him, “He knows.” Seeing Professor Xavier become very still, she clarified, “He knows about my complete absorption of his feral mutation. Not about the rest.”

Charles face tightened in response, keeping his thoughts to himself. Seeing her tense, he reached out to squeeze her hands comfortingly. “It’s alright, Anna. Try not to worry.”

“There’s something else Charles.”

She took his other hand in hers and opened her mind and within moments, his grip on her hands tightened in understanding.

After making her rounds and ensuring all the students were asleep in their beds, Anna made her way to the front porch and looked down the three mile drive to the country road that ran long the estate, seeing, hearing and smelling nothing of concern.

Assured of the students’ safety, she let her guard down and sat down on one of the many steps that led into the new academy, resting her head against a wooden pillar. She thought of the discussion she had with the professor earlier, the responsibility she now bore on her shoulders for the young children inside, and she felt much older than her twenty-seven years. She was afraid for the future, the need for her new school proof enough that a war was coming.

“Anna.”

She gasped, claws coming to the surface of her skin, strumming with the want to break free. Flexing her fingers, she stood up and smiled welcomingly when she saw Scott stepping out onto the large porch, his tall, strong frame backlit by the outdoor lamps.

“Sorry,” he told her with an apologetic smile, eyes hidden behind his ever present visor, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Scott was wearing light linen slacks and a matching buttoned shirt that hung attractively on his muscled and tanned body. His hair fell in soft waves across his face to the nape of his neck, and it made him look younger, less rigid than he usually appeared. He ran his fingers through the golden brown strands and she wondered if they were as soft as they looked. He was holding something behind his back and although she could detect its scent, she feigned surprise when he revealed the fully blossomed magnolia. She took it from him, her sweet smile widening at his gesture.

Moonlight shone through her thin white cotton dress, silhouetting her body through the diaphanous material and a powerful shudder of want went through him. Hearing his thoughts, she stepped towards him, placing the white flower behind her ear, its fleshy petals highlighting the single white band of hair that escaped the tightly wound bun the rest of her hair was in. She stopped short of touching him.

“Thank you.” She looked at him expectantly as the delicate scent of the magnolia surrounded them.

His eyes remained on hers and Scott knew they were green, but because of his visor, all he could determine were that they were clear colored, and bright. “You’re welcome,” he told her, hands clenched into fists by his sides, determined to deny what his body raged at him to do.

Anna inhaled the powerful scent of his arousal and the feral inside her stirred in appreciation of the strong, attractive male in front of her. Her eyes darkened, feeling a rush of energy course through her and her eyes flicked upwards, catching his. “What color are your eyes?” she asked him, her voice low.

He swallowed before answering. “They’re brown”

“Brown,” she echoed softly, bringing her mouth close to his, “I have always wondered. You look like you want to kiss me.” Her eyes went to his mouth and then returned to where she knew his eyes were behind the red lenses. “Do you, Scott?” she asked him in a whisper, her breath soft against his lips, “Do you want to kiss me?”

Moments passed and neither of them moved. Scott seemed to struggle with something deep within him, the muscles across his shoulders flexing, tense. She was reacting physically to the signals he was sending but it was for him act on it, not her, and when he did nothing, she pulled back, disappointed.

Scott did not crush her against him like his instincts demanded, he didn’t capture her mouth like the starving man he was. He didn’t run his hands over her luscious body, and take hold of the woman who invaded his dreams for far too long. No, Scott Summers did none of those things. Instead, his lips were soft, featherlike, barely taking hold of hers in the gentlest of kisses, their warmth barely making an imprint on her lips stronger than the force of his breath. His lips tugged softly at hers, not plundering the depths of her mouth like she anticipated he would, like the others before him who wanted her just as desperately. She was experiencing a kiss with no more strength than a butterfly’s wing and when she felt him move away, her eyes remained closed, her breath caught in her throat, entranced.

“Anna?”

His voice was thick with repressed desire and she opened eyes to look at him, stunned. Scott kissed me. His face solemn, he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, ending with a finger tracing her lips. “You’re beautiful, Anna Marie,” he told her simply, “So beautiful.”

Anna couldn’t remember being treated so delicately, or kissed so tenderly. Every man who claimed her lips with their own always did so with a fierce passion, almost attacking her with their want, their desire for her. She remembered Remy, after his initial kiss, had almost devoured her with his need and no one ever matched the ravenous hunger he had shown her, his kiss the only one she could recall with vicious clarity.

But he wasn’t here. Scott was. Handsome, strong, sweet Scott.

Anna felt the protective walls around her heart tremble in response. Standing up on her toes, she wove her fingers through his hair and it was as soft and as silky as she imagined. She took in a shaky breath before brushing her lips against his with as much care as he did hers, never taking full possession of his mouth and yet kissing every dip and curve as she tasted him. He didn’t make a move, allowing her the slow exploration, hands remaining by his sides and when she broke her kiss, he caught his breath at the sight of her exquisite eyes shining with unshed tears. “You’re the one,” she corrected him, “who’s beautiful, Scott Summers.”

He pulled her into his arms then, pressing her small body against his much larger one, resting his chin on the top of her head that now lay against his chest. Her arms were warm around his waist, and he felt each ragged breath she took. Holding her gently, but strongly, he promised as a light breeze caressed the embracing couple, “I’ll never hurt you, Anna.”

She closed her eyes, finding comfort in the steady beat of his heart, and believed him.

She was moaning like a fucking 70’s television cop car siren.

It was as distracting and it was annoying. He reached around to put his thumb in her mouth and she sucked on it greedily, making him grunt in relief. Mistaking the sound for pleasure, she twisted her tongue around the digit, illustrating her prowess with her tongue, biting its soft, fleshy pad teasingly. She tried to look back at him, but seeing her face would ruin it too, so he shoved her face back, causing her to gasp in surprise and look down again. Pissed off now, he quickened his pace, the sound of his belt buckle jangling from where it laid open at the top of his thighs, the brass Indian chief bruising the back of hers. He grabbed her hand and brought it down between her legs, unwilling to wait for her. She went back to that caterwauling again, but with a shudder, he held on, gripping her dark hair, clinging to the image he needed to push him over the edge.


Ah want you, Logan.


He squeezed his eyes tight. Almost there. Just. One. More. Fucking. Second.


Touch me, Logan.


He felt her shake as she came, shoving her ass back against him, hollering.


Ah need more.


He flinched, emotional revulsion fighting against physical release as he managed to finally empty himself over a now too thin back, a too thick waist, a too narrow set of shoulders. In the smoke thickened bar, he convinced himself she was just right, but now, under the glare of the single parking lot light, everything about her was fucking wrong.

He stepped back, and she could hear the sounds of his belt clipping back together. Breathing hard, she looked over her shoulder and pouted, seeing him adjust his t-shirt back into the waistband of his jeans. “That’s it, big man?” She stood up to face him, her heavily kohl rimmed green eyes shifting down to his crotch, the slow deliberate licking of her red stained lips repulsing him further. “Are you sure you don’t want something more?”

“Gotta go, pretty lady.” He tipped his cowboy hat to her, not giving a shit that she glared at him, insulted that he turned her down. He walked back to his bike, and it roared to life, its rumble deep and powerful as he waited for her to stomp angrily back into the bar, the door crashing closed behind her. The bar-owner didn’t look too pleased that Logan had taken his old lady out back in less time it took to serve him two shots of whiskey and in the mood he was in, he couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t drive the poor bastard’s skull straight through the wall. As Logan pulled onto the highway, he decided to bypass this town and continue through to Calgary, determining he’d do great time if the storm clouds continued to stay behind him.

Next time, she needs to have longer hair. And be a fucking mute.


*****


She was the last one.

With Kayla, it had been everything; love, hatred, betrayal, disappointment, shame and anger. For all the love she had for him, she didn’t trust him, and it was the fault of that dysfunction, that flaw, that made him lose everything, and become a killing machine. Her part in transforming him into the first Weapon X had devastated him, and he had raged a long while at her gravesite, searching for the forgiveness she needed. And, after several nights, immersed in his grief, Kuekuatsu finally gave the wild roses to his Moon, his trickster, his cruel ex-mistress, finally setting the Wolverine free.

Each apology was different; he acknowledged his mistakes, and for the first time, acknowledged theirs as well. Janet for being a part of Department H’s military encampment and being his keeper; Itsu for expecting him to prove his worth to her family when his love should have been enough; and Mariko for rejecting the animal in him and for setting a standard so high that even she couldn’t attain it, loving honor more than him. They all had expected something of him, from him, their love conditional, finite. Janet, Itsu, Mariko, Kayla, he said goodbye to them all, relinquishing the false purity of their memories. Standing by their tombstones, he confessed that he loved her, loved her more than he ever did them, and he wasn’t sorry. Wasn’t sorry at all.


*****


Nothing ever bled into each another, each town, each motel room, each bar, they all had their own distinctive mark. Sure, the roads looked similar – the town stores, the town bars, the town motels – but they were never the same. It was the tough guys who were similar, coming out of the wood work when they heard the Wolverine was in town, the screams of the crowd, bloodlust on their faces identical to the spectators from the night before. But the towns themselves, they were always different. Something as simple as the shape of the trees, the outdoor paint of the local barber shop, the type of flowers used outside their town halls; it would tell him he was somewhere different, getting closer.

There were only a few people in the bar, a couple of truckers playing a game of pool, a woman sitting by the back table, trying to convince her drunk husband to come home. He ignored the backhand the man dealt her, narrowing his eyes through the smoke of his cigar, fighting down the impulse to protect the frail. He recognized a ritual when he saw one, one that she obviously clung to, her body reacting to the violence, loving it. She needed no hero.

The bartender was switching through stations of the beat up radio by the cash register, trying to locate some music through the static, swearing under his breath when he could only get newstalk. He flipped past something, something and Logan snarled, demanding he put it back, put it BACK goddamnit.

Fear doing something unpleasant to his stomach, he did, catching the station, barely, the hiss still audible. He stared at the dangerous man sitting in front of him, nursing his whiskey, amazed to see his face soften, eyes warm, as the voice rang out through the bar. The truckers complained - take that opera shit off Barry, fer cryin’ out loud - stupid, stupid - the metallic ringing of claws in their direction making them choke back their words. The Wolverine didn’t make a sound, returning those horrific weapons back into his forearms, and Barry raised the volume, hoping to calm him down further.

Despite the stench of fear that now hung over the small bar, they listened. The couple, the pool players, the bartender, they all listened and understood. Her voice was absolutely, fucking beautiful. Logan closed his eyes, hearing his Marie sing, “Un Bel Di”. He gripped the old faded waybill with the words “Georges Bizet – CARMEN – Anina World Debut – Frankfurt Opera House ” that he always carried in the front pocket of his jacket, listening, listening, translating the words, and she was singing to him. To him.


All this will happen,
I promise you this
Hold back your fears -
I, with secure faith, wait for him.


He left, the sound of her voice disappearing with him, into the day.


*****


Logan found himself sitting in the bedside chair of his motel room, in the dark, whiskey bottle in hand, cigar in the other, waiting for the evidence of the evening’s fight to disappear from his battered body. It never took much to send him back in time, back to before.


Ah love you, Logan.


Her voice, that sweet, honey laden sound that visited him every night, comforting him, tormenting him. I know you love me, darlin’, I know.


Ah always loved you.


He shut his eyes and angled his head, almost wishing the pain would go away, but still relishing in the harshness of it, needing it. I know that too, darlin’. It’s what made me come back. Every time.


You don’t have to love me.


He knocked back the rest of the throat burning fluid, slamming the empty bottle onto the night table, face hardening, chest tightening. I don’t have to love ya, darlin’, I need to. I need to.


Ah can’t stop loving you.


Logan dropped his head onto his hands. I hope so, darlin’. I fucking hope so.

The sound of laughing children could be heard throughout the grounds, squeals interchanged with outraged yells, as the students of Willowbend Academy exchanged water balloons in an intense battle out in the back garden. It was a particularly humid day, the Mississippi heat oppressive and sweltering, and there was no chance of the students being able to focus on their studies with weather like this, so the staff were grateful for the reprieve. Grateful until the children decided to align with each other and began hunting teachers in their aquatic war.

Anna watched it unfold from the upper levels of the plantation manor, laughing out loud when she caught sight of Julian planting a particularly large water balloon on the head of the head gardener, soaking the poor man from head to toe. Judging by the speed the man was chasing the young teenager, it would be only a few moments before young Julian found himself at the receiving end of a fully blasting water hose. She allowed herself a few more moments before descending the main staircase to greet the group of people that had congregated in the front foyer, waiting for her.

Said group watched the finely dressed beauty come down the stairs with an easy grace, dressed in a classic Chanel ensemble of peach colored pencil skirt and matching blouse, silver colored stilettos clicking sharply against the marble floor as she approached them. Her dark hair was brushed back into its familiar bun, her facial features remaining soft despite the severity of the style, the smile on her lovely face welcoming and warm.

“Dear Mayor and esteemed council members, how wonderful of you to visit.” She held out her hand to be kissed by the men and graciously kissed the cheek of the only woman in the group. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Beaming, Mayor Clarkson took her offered arm and led her into the drawing room, where they each took seats amongst the antique chairs placed charmingly throughout the late 19th century décor of the room. “Mah deyah Miss D’Ancanto, the pleajuh is all ours, especially when we get to enjoy Willowbend’s famous hospitaliteh.”

Winking at the red cheeked portly man, she thanked the house servant who had followed them into the room with fresh lemonade in a tray laden with crystal glasses. She rose to serve each of her four guests, before settling back into her chair, legs pressed together in a slight angle with ankles demurely crossed. Gratefully drinking the cool beverage before speaking, the Mayor dabbed at the perspiration that had beaded on his face with a well used kerchief, looking to his fellow council members before speaking again.

“We came in the hopes y’all would agree to attend a little soiree that the Caldecott Chambah of Commahce is hostin’ at the town Arboretum next month.”

Anna raised an eyebrow, politely interested. “A little soiree, Mayor Clarkson?”

He nodded, looking to the elderly woman sitting beside him to continue. With an excited look on her face, Councilwoman Wilkins declared, “We wah hoping Miss D’Ancanto, that y’all would agree to perfahming a song to help benefit the Biloxi Children’s Hospital.” Her Mississipian accent was thickened by her enthusiasm as she continued, “Sev’wal communites aw calling upon their most famous sons and dahtahs to join in the festivities and we would be evah so grateful if y’all would agree to repwahsent the fair town of Pearl River, mah deyah.”

Four pairs of eyes looked to her expectantly. She felt a weight form in her stomach and sink at the prospect of singing in front of an audience again. Clearing her throat delicately, she reached for a decanter and poured herself some lemonade before answering, the clinking sound of crystal ringing loudly in contrast to the room’s sudden silence. Aware they were waiting for an answer, she told them, “It has been some time since I have performed.”

The guests exchanged anxious glances. Councilor Adams spoke next, his southern gentleman drawl distinct, proper and very slow. “Miss D’Ancanto, we would never think to place you in an indelicate predicament if we thought for a moment that you would not be delighted to partake in this most deserving event.”

Anna bit her tongue, making sure not show her annoyance at the pomposity of the man. Smiling sweetly, she concurred. “Of course not. I would be honored to perform and I am humbled that I have been chosen.”

They stood up happily, rushing to shake her hand in gratitude and as fast as they had come, they left, in a flurry down the front steps, disappearing into the black town car waiting in the driveway. As the large vehicle drove away, Anna could hear masculine laughter coming from within the manor, and eyes narrowing, she spun around and stepped back inside to face its owner.

“You could have rescued me.”

Scott shook his head. “There was no way I was going to interfere. I’ve had enough run-ins with the gentle southern folk of Pearl River to know to stay out of their way when they want something, present company included.”

Anna crossed her arms across her chest petulantly when he took her into his arms, determined to stay annoyed. “Where’s my knight in shining armor?”

Scott took her earlobe into his mouth and whispered huskily, “He only appears when he knows you need it, sweetheart.” He kissed her neck just below said earlobe and laughed seductively when he felt her shiver in pleasure.

Grabbing his shoulders, she shamelessly exposed more of her throat to his delicious mouth. “Hmmm,” was all that she could come up with in retaliation.

Grinning at her reaction, he said in a perfect mimicry of Councilwoman Wilkins, “Why, Ah do decleah my deyah Miss D’Ancanto, that y’all aw simplah the easiest pushovah this side of the Mason-Dixie Line.”

She rolled her eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he hit the mark. She pushed away from him and said in a more serious tone, “I mean it, Scott. I really don’t want to perform.”

“You’ve performed in the largest opera houses throughout the world, Anna. Singing for a few hundred people should be a piece of cake in comparison.”

Sighing, she placed her hands on her hips, exasperated. “That was almost four years ago.”

Taking her into his arms again, he told her, “I’ve heard you sing every day during my visits here. Your voice is as beautiful now, as it was then.”

“Teaching snippets here and there is not the same, Scott. Performing takes a lot out of me, there’s a lot a preparation required. Emotionally, I need to be able to sing publicly again.”

He grinned rakishly, hugging her tighter. “Well, that’s settles it then. Think of me and you’ll have all of Mississippi at your feet, ‘Anina’.”

She laughed, kissing him lightly on the lips. “Conceited man.”

“Hmmm…..” was all he could come up with in retaliation before claiming her mouth with his. They deepened their kiss until the exaggerated sound of a throat being cleared behind them sprung them apart.

Face hot with embarrassment, Anna looked at Nanna guiltily, stealing a look at an unapologetic Scott who still kept his arms around her waist, turning her around to press up against his back as he greeted the diminutive woman. “Hello, Miss Nanna.”

“Mr. Summers.” The head housekeeper ignored Anna entirely. “Ah trust you had a pleasant flight in last week?”

He nodded, yelping when Anna pinched him for kissing the nape of her neck. “I did, Miss Nanna. Thank you for having a room prepared for me.” He stole a wry look at Anna and she sucked her cheeks in to prevent herself from laughing. Before leaving to visit her family last week, Nanna had arranged to put Scott in the furthest room away from the back entrance that led to the small gardener’s cottage which Anna had renovated into her own living quarters.

The older woman’s disapproval at the sight of the blatant physical affection was clear. Icily, she informed Anna, “Anina, Ah need you in the kitchen to go over the menu you want set out for tonight’s supper, looks like no one thought to confirm it while I was away.”

Peeling Scott’s arms from around her waist, she gave him a quick kiss and whispered, “I’ll see you later.” She followed Nanna’s retreating form, adding nonchalantly over her shoulder, “Oh, can you check what’s going on in the back with the students, Scott? I thought I heard some kind of disturbance out there.”

“Sure thing, honey,” she heard him reply, all business. Within minutes she could hear his yells as he got pelted relentlessly by what sounded like thirty two water balloons.

No, make that thirty three.

It was difficult keeping a straight face as she listened to Nanna give instructions to the manor chef.


*****


Kitty was more than just concerned. She was downright scared. Catching sight of the expression on his wife’s face, Bobby sat down beside her on their bed, pulling apart the tie that she managed to mangle seconds earlier.

“Baby, worrying about it won’t make it better.”

She looked at him, biting her lower lip. “But I should have told her as soon as I found out this morning.”

Bobby placed a loving hand on the pregnant bump belonging to the love of his life. “But you didn’t.”

“Because you told me not to. And now I’ve changed my mind.”

“No.” He stood back up and faced the mirror, trying to get the tie right himself.

Unhappy with her husband’s response, she got up from the bed and straightened her dress over her ripe, six month pregnant body. “Robert Drake, I can still tell her. At least it will give her some time to get used to…”

“No,” he repeated, more forcefully, catching her eye with his reflection. “It’s complicated enough as it is. It’s her birthday, so let her enjoy it. Just tell her tomorrow morning.”

Kitty took a deep breath, unconvinced. Seeing that he was getting nowhere, she slapped his hands away and within a few deft moves, had his tie perfectly knotted under his throat.

Iceman took Shadowcat into his arms and kissed her tenderly. “We are going to have a wonderful time tonight, kitten. It could be that you’re wrong about how Anna will react, anyway. Since Scott arrived last week, the two of them have been at like teenagers. It’s only been a few months since he last came here and yet they can barely keep their hands off each other. They’re happy.”

Kitty nodded, accepting his hug. Her husband of three years was right. Scott and Anna did look pretty happy, and besides, she had a tendency to make things bigger than they were. She’d let Anna enjoy herself, it was her birthday after all.

Finally settling the children down for the night, the adults made their way to the main hall to enjoy the late dinner feast prepared by the manor chef, Anna making sure to hire outside catering staff so that all of the employees of Willowbend Academy could enjoy her birthday dinner.

Sitting at the large dining room table, Bobby looked to his wife lovingly, amazed that he was lucky enough to have someone like her to spend the rest of his life with, to build a family with. She still looked to him to be the same young girl he began to fall in love with that fateful night they ice skated together, in the fountain that he had frozen over in an attempt to lessen her homesickness. Yet when he looked to the birthday girl, he couldn’t help but stare.

Anna looked absolutely stunning. Her hair was worn in a chignon at the nape of her neck, trapping the long, thick ropes of dark brown hair into the severe knot, the platinum swatch worn to the side. She wore a beautiful pale blue gown that hugged every curve she had, tastefully and gracefully, shoulders and throat bare, displaying clear, golden skin. There was no denying it; she was an extremely beautiful woman, but, there was something more. Bobby’s eyes took an appraising look, watching her laugh and lean every so often against Cyclops, the X-Men leader. In the almost two years that Bobby and Kitty have been with the Willowbend Academy, it seemed to him that Anna never aged. Granted, twenty nine was still pretty young, and Anna did not look the same as she did when they themselves were dating, but still, it was remarkable. Anna-Marie D’Ancanto didn’t look a day over twenty.

“Hey!”

Surprised at the not so gentle punch he got from an annoyed looking pregnant woman, he exclaimed as he rubbed his sore shoulder, “What was that for?”

Frowning, his wife told him haughtily, “I know the two of you were an item at one time, but I think it’s a bit much that I need to put up with my husband panting after an ex-girlfriend when his son grows bigger and bigger in me every day.”

Laughing, he gathered her protesting form into his arms and kissed her passionately and soon, she was returning the kiss with as much enthusiasm. When they were forced to come up for air, he told her lovingly, “Kitty baby, you are the sexiest, more spectacular woman alive.”

Comforted, she leaned against him, playing with the tie that she had so perfectly knotted earlier in the evening. “Damn straight.”

He smiled, giving her another squeeze. “But,” he told her carefully, “You have to admit, Anna does look pretty good.”

It rankled that her husband noticed anything about another woman while she was in her condition, especially a knockout like her best friend, but she had to agree with him, he was right. “It’s like she’s stopped aging.”

They looked at each other, glad to hear another person say out loud what the other was thinking. They turned their eyes back to the guest of honor, thoughtful.

Anna was unaware of the thoughts going through her best friends’ heads, she was too busy looking to the handsome man next to her; his own face smiling and relaxed as she squeezed his hand, returning his kiss happily when he caught sight of her. Everyone seemed well on their way to getting drunk, minus her (not for lack of trying) and minus Scott (for lack of trying) and Anna had already convinced everyone at the large table that she could drink anyone under it.

They sang her Happy Birthday and they ate her cake and she opened gag gift after gag gift, most of it geared towards her becoming an old maid. After Anna opened yet another gift, this time leaning towards becoming a crazy cat lady, Bobby laughed a little too hard, falling off his chair dramatically. Accepting help from the two people seated next to him, he sat back on his chair and wiped tears from his eyes. “At least Anna doesn’t need to worry about that after tonight.”

Alert, Kitty asked her husband. “Why is that?”

He answered her with a wink, reaching for his beer bottle.

“Robert Drake, you better explain yourself.”

He looked at her, or at least, tried to focus on one of the images of his wife that was wobbling in front of him. “Anna’s days of being a single lady are soon coming to a close, baby. Scott’s popping the question.”

“What?” Kitty gaped at him.

Bobby smiled widely, tipping the bottle into his mouth, looking smug.

“You mean tonight?” She demanded to know, taking the bottle away from him, anxiety rising in her.

He made a show of looking at his watch. “Yep, just before midnight he said. That’s why you need to be, like, you know… shhhhhhhh.” Off the mark, his index finger landed on his cheek.

Ignoring him, Kitty looked to Anna, feeling extreme joy, then extreme anxiety. Oh god, Scott was finally going to ask her to marry him. Anna looked at her best friend sitting at the other end of the table, having caught the intensity of what she was feeling. She stood up and made her way over to her.

“Hey guys, “she said, sitting beside her best friends, “Having a good time?”

Clearly Bobby was, having taken advantage of Kitty’s distraction to grab the beer bottle back. He tried to take a big swig, but booed when Kitty grabbed it out of his mouth. Rolling her eyes at her husband, Kitty smiled at her. “We’re having a great time, Anna.”

There was still some anxiety rolling off the smaller woman and Anna reached for her hand. “Are you sure, Kitty? You seem a little preoccupied.”

Kitty struggled with the decision she made earlier that evening. Seeing the emotions in the other’s woman’s eyes, Anna squeezed her hand worriedly. “You can tell me anything Kitty, you know that.”

Kitty closed her eyes. She just hated lying to her friend. “I’m just worried about the future, Anna.”

Anna could smell her sincerity. The anxiety was still there, but Anna had no idea how it felt to be pregnant so she hugged Kitty close, telling her, “Well, you got all of us and we’re not going anywhere. We’re going to take care of you and your little one, alright?”

Anna stood up and offered to take Bobby to their quarters since he was now passed out, mouth open, with a piece of birthday cake stuck to his ear from where his head landed abruptly on the table seconds earlier. Someone near them offered to assist Kitty in her stead, which got everyone standing up, one after the other. The next half hour was spent saying goodbye and spreading good wishes, most of the party goers inebriated.

They look so happy, Kitty thought, watching Scott and Anna wish everyone goodnight. Bobby’s right. I’ll tell Anna first thing in the morning, there’s enough time. She walked behind the crowd, kissing Anna good night and made her way outside to the back garden to where the staff’s rooms were located.

Nanna was the last to leave, clucking her tongue at the mess even though the caterers were already making quick work of it. Laughing, Anna kissed the older woman on the cheek. “Nanna, it’ll be right as rain by tomorrow morning.”

The older woman’s eyes suddenly filled with tears at the tender gesture, remembering her promise to look after little Anna Marie, knowing she had failed miserably. Anna reached out to the woman, and hugged her; she was projecting so loudly, the images were too painful, even for her. “Nanna, you did everything you could,” she whispered in her ear. “Everything turned out alright. I’m happy.”

Surprised that Anna seemed to read her thoughts, the woman blinked away her tears. “Bless you, child. You deserve happiness.” She looked at Scott, and pointed her finger at him. “You get that, boy?”

Scott grinned. “Loud and clear ma’am.”

Nanna narrowed her eyes, staring him down to see if he was making fun of her. Dissatisfied, she shot him a suspicious glare before making her way to her own room, just off the main kitchen. When she disappeared around the corner, Anna laughed quietly into her hands, chastising the man beside her. “Scott, really, you need to stop tormenting her! She’s the closest thing I have for a grandmother, you need to respect her.”

Scott shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not my fault she’s out to get me, Anna.”

“She is not,” she began to argue but he placed a finger across her lips, effectively silencing her. She looked at him, eyebrow raised, but stayed quiet as he took her hand, leading her out of the room. He avoided the back gardens where the majority of the staff were still trying to make their way to their quarters - drunkenly and loudly - much to the delight of the children that were awakened by their merry making. Anna hoped some of this was caught on film by the estate’s security cameras, thinking that this year’s Year in Review could become a classic. Scott couldn’t hear them, but Anna could, and she giggled to herself, making Scott think she was tipsy. “You okay?”

Nodding her head happily, she looked up at her handsome boyfriend, dressed in his dapper suit and her smile broadened. They had walked through the foyer and out through the front doors where she leaned her back against one of the massive front porch pillars with a soft sigh.

Scott stared at her. She was so lovely with that angelic smile playing on her lips, and he couldn’t resist. He released the jeweler’s box that he had gripped in his hand into his pants back pocket and took her into his arms, slanting his mouth over hers, needing to kiss her, taste her, inhale her. Anna returned his kiss hungrily, pressing her body brazenly against him and caught off guard by her reaction, Scott pushed her back up against the pillar behind her, slipping his leg between hers.

“Oh god, Anna,” he breathed huskily against her throat, “You’re driving me crazy.” The sound of her purring made the low fire in his belly explode. “I need to touch you, taste you,” he told her in between kisses as her fingers raked through his hair. “I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

Anna clenched her eyes tight, willing her body to stay on fire for this man, to not shut down. Scott remained so patient over the past two years, never pushing, following her lead, never asking for more than she was willing to give. It was no coincidence that they were standing in the exact same spot where he had first kissed her, and tonight she wanted to give him what he wanted, desperate for this to work and willing to push past her body’s objections. Scott had nothing to prove, she knew who he was before their relationship blossomed romantically, and yet he still managed to surprise her with his patience, loyalty, and love. He deserved so much more than she had been willing to give him up to now, it was time.

Tonight’s the night, she thought dazedly to herself, grateful that she still wanted his touch; her body still reacting to his desire. She kissed him hard, delving her tongue deep into the warmth of his mouth, relieved, but then, it started. Her body began to shut down and with a growing horror Anna could feel herself pull away, her body once again rejecting him, only it was so much worse this time; because she could actually smell him, as though he was…

“Happy Birthday, kid.”

Scott, having felt her familiar withdrawal, had already pulled away, but at the sound of the other man’s voice, he released her completely, spotting the dark figure standing at the bottom of the porch steps.

Anna didn’t want to turn around. Panicked, she tried to convince herself that if she kept her eyes closed maybe this wouldn’t be happening, maybe it was just another one of her nightmares and she could wake up back into her real world, without him. But then she heard Scott confirm what her mind screamed at her to deny. “Logan.”

Hearing his name - in Scott’s voice - made reality crash all around her. Anna released the hold that she had on Scott’s hair and stood straight; patting her hair to make sure it was still in its chignon, gathering her courage together, all of it, before stepping around to face him. The night sky was filled with clouds, and a strong wind made its way across the estate, blowing against the man who stood there, motionless. Her eyes took him in, and everything around them melted away into a faded, inconsequential nothingness until there was just him - and her.

Tight black jeans encased a pair of powerfully built legs anchored by brown leather cowboy boots, grey checkered cotton shirt unbuttoned, its sleeves protesting against flexed arms resting across a black undershirt covered chest, eyes hidden under the brim of a brown leather cowboy hat. She could make out the familiar mutton chops that outlined the sharp square of his jaw, noting his hair was longer, falling slightly past his wide shoulders, and his scent, oh god, she never forgot how tantalizing that scent could be, spiced as it was by the jealousy he was emanating. Scott touched her arm and she looked away, burning, wiping away the imagery that particular aroma dug up, because she didn’t care. Not anymore.

“Slim.” The nickname came out clipped, hard. Anna didn’t need to see Logan’s eyes to know they were trained on her, watching, assessing, and she felt ice flow through her veins, remembering just how harsh his voice could be.

“Wolverine.”

Logan tensed, her voice cold and unwelcoming, and his breath shortened as he watched Marie walk slowly down the stairs, taking in the flowing silk gown, the elegant lines of her neck and shoulders gleaming from the artificial light spilling out from within the mansion, realizing, as his heart pounded in his ears, that she had become impossibly more beautiful over the years. His fingers splayed out beside him, spastic with the need to reach out to touch her glowing skin. His nostrils flared and Logan bit back a growl.

He could smell Scott all over her.

Scott caught up with Marie as she reached the last step, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. Logan’s face hardened at the possessive movement and he looked to Marie but her eyes were on Scott’s hand, resting on her hip.

“I interrupt a private party?” His voice was low, deceptively calm.

Anna closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, needing to get her emotions under control, forcing herself to stop reacting to his physical cues. “What brings you here?” She ignored his question and replaced it with her own, keeping her voice even, polite.

He tilted his head, his familiar smirk appearing. “Can’t an old friend extend birthday wishes, darlin’?” His voice had taken on a sensual burr and her body ignited instantly, causing his smirk to deepen and her eyes to flash. Bastard.

“Who’s the girl?”

Anna blinked, surprised by Scott’s question. Sure enough, standing directly behind Logan was a young girl, maybe eleven, twelve years old. She was a slight little thing, small and thin, her face covered by long, stringy black hair that hung heavily across her face. The distrust that rolled off her was disconcerting, intense and aggressive; her scent similar to Logan’s which explained why Anna didn’t pick up on it sooner. Anna reached out to the child and was shocked by the hostility the girl directed towards her making Logan hold his hand up, preventing any more moves towards his young companion.

“This here is Laura,” he told them, his face in profile. “I found her in New York and after taking her to Chuck, he figured the best place for her to be is here.” He looked directly at Anna and added, “He thinks you can help her.”

Anna looked back at the young girl, suddenly understanding. Laura was feral. “The kid wouldn’t come unless I tagged along,” he added, and that caught Anna’s attention. Logan didn’t want to be here. He hadn’t come back for her.

Scott watched Anna and Logan appraise each other, and although their faces were expressionless, he didn’t need to be an empath to know there was something strong between them, the air positively charged with it. Anna’s body was rigid and unyielding against his arm, but she didn’t pull away, resting her hand over top of his and his thumb rubbed absently against the velvet box still in his pants back pocket, feeling disappointment, confusion and anger. X-Men conditioning kicked in however and Cyclops put his feelings aside, holding his hands out, palms outward to indicate to the young girl that he was harmless.

“My name is Scott Summers, Laura. Professor Xavier must have explained to you what it is that we do, and what these academies are for. We want to help you.”

The young girl’s hostility simmered down slightly as her eyes rested on Scott, eyes curious. Anna added gently, “You can trust us, Laura.” At the sound of Anna’s voice, the hostility ramped right back up again and that was a definite growl they all heard coming from the girl. Anna turned to Scott, knowing that the staff was more than likely passed out in their rooms and couldn’t be expected to settle in the new student. “Scott, can you assist our young guest? A room in the girls’ dormitory closest the gardener’s cottage would be ideal.”

She looked to the sports car that Logan had driven down from New York and it was evident by the fumes coming from the vehicle’s engine that they had driven directly down from New York State, without stopping. She shot an accusing glare at Logan, wondering how he could be so thoughtless as to not cater to the exhausted child and the growl became louder, Laura baring her teeth now, staring intently at her. Instinctively, Anna felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and she fought back the instinct to respond to the immediate physical danger.

Logan stepped in between the two females, keeping his back to her as he faced the young girl. “Rogue is not a threat, Laura.”

Scott and Anna watched in fascination as the young girl seemed to decipher the information with a slight tilt of her head. An oddly familiar movement, Anna noted, discarding the jolt she felt hearing her old X-Man name. Laura’s hostility towards the older woman lowered substantially at Logan’s command and the expression on her face returned to being impassive. Anna looked to Logan inquisitively, but he kept his back to her as Laura stepped up to where Scott stood. She was so young and small, her large green eyes taking up most of her face. Anna stared at her, wondering why everything about the girl was so familiar but Scott took Anna’s hands into his, tugging them lightly to make her look at him.

“Will you be alright, Anna?”

Logan raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar name, looking amused. “What’s gonna happen, Scooter? Scared the big bad wolf might steal your little lamb away?”

It was Anna’s turn to tug at Scott’s hands when he stiffened in anger. “It’s alright, Scott. Take care of Laura, she’s our first priority. Get her comfortable and I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Scott clenched his jaw, agitated, and she reached out to cup his face in her hands, giving him her full attention. “Okay?” Something was wrong. Scott was giving off waves of frustration, sadness, and deep disappointment. Seeing the genuine concern in her eyes, he kissed both her hands and smiled reassuringly.

“Okay.” He pulled her close and kissed her, before whispering into her ear, “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” He turned back into the manor, ignoring Logan entirely and Laura followed him, without a backwards glance.

“How touching.”

Anna turned back to Logan, annoyed. His arms remained crossed at his chest, his face still half hidden by the cowboy hat but Anna knew he was angry, she knew he was jealous and she also knew he was feeling betrayed. Glaring at Marie, Logan knew she was angry, he knew she was hurt and he also knew she was afraid. Very, very afraid.

“You don’t look thirty.” He stepped closer to her, standing as close as he dared, inhaling her scent, all peppermint and honey, all his Marie.

A beat passed. “You don’t look one hundred and twenty,” she replied, her eyes intent on his, letting him know she was aware of his recovered memories.

He raised an eyebrow at that. “No welcome hug for me, Marie?” His voice was soft, compelling, and she stiffened.

The sound of that name, the name no one else called her but him, battered her insides. “I am not Marie.” Her voice sounded strange, even to her own ears, and her denial of who she was told him more than he was willing to accept.

His simmering anger shot up a few degrees. “You sure as hell ain’t no Anna.”

Her anger matched his easily. “My name is Ms. Anna Marie D’Ancanto, Mr. James Logan Howlett, and I ask that you become familiar with it while here, in my home.”

Smirk back in place, Logan walked back to the vehicle he drove in and popped open the back trunk. “Fine, kid,” he said over his shoulder as he pulled out a duffle bag. “Whatever gets you through this.” He nodded towards the house. “Cozy.”

Anna swung away from him, marching up the porch steps and through the foyer, intent on not letting him get to her, refusing to respond to the ridiculous use of her old nickname. He followed her so silently that she was half tempted to turn around to make sure he was behind her and if it wasn’t for his scent, she would have. She was well aware of his eyes pouring over her body as it sashayed up the stairs, his arousal thick and warm, and her lips curled maliciously.

She took her sweet, hips-swaying time.

Anna chose the corridor leading to the wing farthest from Scott and the other guest rooms, and upon reaching its end, entered through a set of double doors that opened into a large suite of rooms. She threw open the French doors that overlooked the gardens, letting in some much needed air to dissipate the staleness of the never used boudoir, not bothering to turn on the lights since she knew they both could see clearly without them.

“These are your rooms,” she told him matter-of-factly, waving her arm towards the bed. “The key to lock your doors are located in the nightstand’s drawer. There is a private bath to your right and a sitting room to your left and the staff will do their best to make your stay here as comfortable as possible.”

As she spoke, she noticed that he was looking at her oddly. Annoyed, since he still kept his hat on and she couldn’t see his eyes, she asked him impatiently, “Is there a problem?”

“Your accent. It’s gone.” He sounded displeased.

She stared at him a few moments, not understanding his disappointment. Not knowing what to say to that, she continued, “Our breakfast begins at 6:30am, our lunch at 11:00am and our supper at 6:00pm. In addition to that, you’re welcome to use the staff kitchen at any time and help yourself to whatever you like. Classes begin at 8:30am and end at 3:00pm and we usually have activities planned for the students throughout the evening. Its lights out by 7:00pm for the younger students, 8:30pm for the older, but obviously you are free to do whatever you see fit.”

Logan wasn’t paying attention to what she was saying, watching Marie walking slowly about the room, testing furniture tops for dust, her movements concise but graceful, carrying herself with confidence and poise, comfortable with the exposed skin her gown allowed, so unlike the woman he remembered. But she still smelled like his Marie and she was still the most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes on, and she was still the woman he loved. It was her face he saw when he sought comfort in the arms of countless women over the years and it was her name on his lips when she invaded his dreams night after night, and here she was, so close. So damn close.

Anna moved to leave through the suite doors, not wanting to be alone with him longer than necessary, uncomfortable, his attraction to her blatant and aggressive. She was angry, and she was scared and she wanted him to go away, far, far away from her, and the life she made for herself. He didn’t belong here.

“She’s my genetic clone.”

That stopped her. She turned sharply to face him, hand hovering above one of the door handles.

“She was created to be a weapon,” he informed her quietly, and she could see the weight on his shoulders, the responsibility he felt. “And she’s done some bad things. X-23 was what they called her, but her mother named her Laura.” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a thick white envelope and she caught it easily when he threw it towards her. Quickly glancing down, Anna could make out the name “Sarah Kinney” scrawled elegantly in pen across the well worn paper.

He placed his duffle bag on the chair nearest the bed. “We have to help her, Marie.” With a tired sigh, he turned his back to her and began pulling out his things.

Anna stood there, suddenly possessed with the need to comfort him, to tell him everything would be okay and that she would take care of him, and Laura, and anything else to make him not so unhappy, not so alone. Then a red hot fury came over her and she wanted to hurt him, wanted to know why he left her, why he never came back, why he hurt her so badly, and why he couldn’t love her back when she begged him to.

Logan spun around, her turmoil hitting him like a punch to the gut, but she had already left, the doors to his room slamming closed from the wind that blew in from the garden outside.

After reading the letter that Laura’s mother had sent to Logan, Anna went straight to her new student’s room, easily determining which one Scott assigned to her based on her scent. She wasn’t surprised to find the girl wide awake, sitting cross legged on the narrow bed, in the dark. Anna had changed into a pair of black Lycra pants and rash vest, and brought along a gym uniform for Laura to wear, knowing she had nothing. She took off her shoes and left her feet bare when she saw that the young girl only had combat boots in her possession, and the Laura did the same before silently following Anna outside.

The moon was still hidden behind a cloudy sky but the landscape was easy for the two to travel, the sounds of the river making its way to the swampy bayou breaking the silence between them. Anna waited patiently each time Laura stopped to explore the terrain on her own, the young girl asking no questions and Anna offering no information. The two figures wandered together, no words exchanged between them, as the clouds cleared and the wind died down, the air becoming humid and still again.

It was some time before Anna heard Laura’s heart slow to an even beat, although the young girl’s eyes still displayed her distrust. They walked for hours, Anna making sure to cover all the estate’s grounds from the Pearl River to the west, the low-lying swamp lands to the east, the flat fields to the north and the beach to the south, knowing the feral girl needed to become familiar with her surroundings. The sun had just begun to crest when they stepped off the light brown sand to make their way back to the main grounds of the academy and once there, Anna followed the less tense Laura to the stables. The powerful animals reacted skittishly to Laura’s scent but calmed down when Anna patted them down reassuringly, and when Laura held her hand out to the largest stallion, her eyes glittered in amazement when its head nuzzled into her open palm.

The sounds of breakfast being prepared by the house staff carried towards them as they walked alongside the fence of the corrals and Anna heard Laura’s heart begin to race, her eyes darting to the dormitory buildings near the main house. Without breaking her easy stride, Anna told her, “No school for you today, Laura.”

They entered the main house, the coolness of the marble floors soothing to the healing soles of their feet. Anna led her to the large kitchen and while there, gathered up some fruit in a basket along with two paring knives, greeting the bleary-eyed staff warmly. Laura raised an eyebrow, surprised, when Anna passed her one of the knives but Anna just turned her back and stepped up an iron spiral staircase located in a far corner of the expansive room. It led all the way up past the third floor into the attic, which currently housed various pieces of draped furniture and holiday labeled boxes.

Anna popped open a dormer window and disappeared through it, climbing effortlessly along the eaves trough before vaulting herself onto the steep shingled roof. She sat down cross legged on one of its peaks and settled the basket of fruit on her lap, Laura dropping down beside her. She threw an apple to the young girl and they sat in silence.

She watched the young girl deftly peel the apple with the razor sharp utensil, slicing the skin so thin it curled into a continuous, long transparent ribbon. Laura cut her eye at her and Anna twisted her mouth into a wry smile, letting her know she noticed. Laura didn’t return the smile, stuffing the entire peel into her mouth instead, but there was no denying the self satisfaction that scented the air from the young feral.

It was going to be another hot day, late spring usually was in Mississippi, and sweat was beading on both their bodies, their skin shining from it. Anna passed another apple to the young girl and began to peel herself an orange, still invigorated from their hike despite being up all night. They both watched as more and more staff appeared below them, exiting and entering the various buildings throughout the grounds, the new school day beginning. The sounds of waking children soon followed, and in time students began making their way from the dormitories into the main house for breakfast. Anna didn’t make a move to leave and after a while, Laura looked at her questioningly.

“I can hear them asking for you.” Her voice was soft, and like Anna expected, it sounded much older than it should have.

She shrugged, popping the last of her orange into her mouth, taking her time, enjoying its sweetness. Anna had heard them as well, including Scott’s voice down in the kitchen. “Right now, I’m with you.”

“I can take of myself.”

Anna observed the young girl for a few moments. The words were said without a trace of surliness, delivered in a fact based tone and Anna forced herself to not react compassionately, knowing Laura would resent sympathy.

“Good.”

Laura looked to her, surprised.

“Everyone sees a lost, abused little girl when they look at you,” Anna told her. “But, I don’t.”

“What do you see?” The question was thrown at her, full of challenge.

Anna stood up, grabbing the empty bowl off the slanted roof beside her. “I see someone who thinks she’s a monster.”

She was well aware of the growing anger being directed towards her and Anna held out her hand, looking pointedly at the paring knife that was now gripped in Laura’s hand. “Are you done with that?” she asked quietly, her eyes connecting with the girl’s.

A full minute passed. With a grunt, Laura handed the knife to Anna, breathing hard, head held high. “Why did you agree to take me in then?” She sounded like the young adolescent she was, sullen and petulant.

Anna gave her a steady look. “Because, you deserve the opportunity to find out if you are.” She walked away, leaving the brooding young girl on the roof.


*****


Logan stretched out his body, reaching up behind him to grip the solid oak headboard and curled his toes downwards, tendons and muscles warming and refitting against his adamantium skeleton. He had slept comfortably, half forgetting luxuries like king-sized beds and his eyes looked about him lazily, taking in the sumptuousness of his surroundings. There were twelve foot ceilings, large crown moldings and thick baseboards framing pale cream-colored walls, the rich damask burgundy drapes preventing the sun from pouring in from the large French doors beside him. He stood up slowly and made his way over to them, pushing the thick material back and grimacing before becoming accustomed to the bright sunlight that hit him.

He could see children running back and forth between the buildings that flanked a large courtyard, noticing the large pool off to the side and the stables beyond two fenced-in corrals. Across to the opposing side were tennis and basketball courts with a field running alongside them that had both football and soccer posts on its far ends, the large estate mostly bordered along its west side by one hundred foot tall willow trees that bent over towards the river. He pushed open the French doors and immediately put to memory every sound and scent for deeper exploration afterwards, impressed that Marie knew to surround the academy with this fortress style set up, all lines open in case of attack. He planned to go over the rest of the layout to ensure there wasn’t anything she might have missed, just to be sure, but he doubted he’d find anything. He knew he had taught her well.

He turned back into the bedroom and pulled off his jeans, throwing them carelessly onto a chair, striding naked into the bathroom. It was painted in the same pale cream with matching marble basin and tub and when he stepped into the large separate shower stall, he welcomed the automatic spray of hot water that poured over him, his thoughts focusing on owner of the junior academy.

Marie had done well for herself, achieving success on the world stage to create a sanctuary for mutant children, far removed from that starving, freezing teenager he found huddled in his trailer. The animal in him scratched forward, snarling, and Logan drove it back down, rejecting the Wolverine’s revulsion to her autonomy. He was proud of her, and her accomplishments, but he should have been by her side, helping her, protecting her. Loving her.

God, her body was so perfect, so fucking ripe. With a groan, he began stroking himself, envisioning those long legs holding him between them, those full lips close and panting in his ear, that sexy voice begging he sink himself deep into her hot, luscious flesh. His fist pumped faster, his breathing harsh until he finally felt the tightening coil at the base of his spine snap, and he gasped her name, resting his forearm against the marbled wall in front of him, every powerful muscle rippling but still tense, still unrelieved, wanting more, wanting her.

His hands began to shake, thinking about the men who must have kissed her, touched her, tasted and fucked her. He thought of the man who was fucking her now, and he roared, claws shooting out, a murderous rage overtaking him.


She’s MINE!


Growling, he positioned his head directly under the spray of water, trying to calm down, reminding himself that it was his fault. All of it. He pushed her away and now she was with that perfect, all American poster-boy.


Please, please, don’t do this.


He winced, remembering. She begged. His beautiful Marie had begged.


Just let me have this, Logan. Just one night, with you.


He had been wrong – horribly, horribly wrong. It was one thing for Jean to love that rigid Boy Scout, she had thrived under that ice princess veneer, but that wasn’t Marie. Marie was fire and sass and heat, and she was his.


His.


Walking out of the bathroom, he immediately noticed the envelope he had given her last night, resting on the nightstand. Reaching for it, he pressed it to his nose, and his chest expanded, taking in her bewitching scent, eyes darkening.

The first person Anna sought out after her shower was Scott. She found him in the lower levels, having Laura go through various combat exercises with a tight look on his face. Catching his attention through the window of the observation deck, his face remained serious when he turned to the assistant beside him to take over. She met him halfway down the stairs and he stopped a few steps away from her, a hesitant look on his face. Alarm flooded through her unpleasantly.

“Scott?”

His jaw was clenched and his body was tense. She closed the gap between them slowly, reaching out to rest a hand on his chest where his heart was pounding so hard and so fast it scared her. Suddenly, she found herself in the familiar circle of his embrace and she rested her cheek where her hand had been.

“Are you alright, Anna?” He pulled her away and looked down at her intently. “I couldn’t find you this morning.” His tone was almost accusing.

Tendrils of annoyance curled into her but she brushed them away, flashing him a bright smile. “I was getting to know Laura.” She combed his hair away from his face and rubbed her hand against his close shaven cheek. “Miss me?” she asked mischievously.

“I was worried.”

Anna watched him war with something within himself, but jealousy was definitely simmering at the top of the other emotions he was giving off. She pressed her lips against his, hating to see him so conflicted, and he didn’t respond so Anna intensified the kiss, pressing her body against his. Unbelievably, he remained like stone and she began to pull away, hurt. But before she did completely, he pushed her up against the cold cement wall and fastened his mouth onto her throat, his hands running up her sides from her hips to her waist before cupping her breasts into his large, warm hands.

She was shocked. “Scott?”

His slid a leg between hers and lifted his knee upwards, lifting her so that his lips easily made their way to where his hands pulled at her blouse, unbuttoning the green silk to reveal the black laced bra underneath.

“Scott!” Her voice became more urgent and she pulled at his hair to force him to look up at her, his breathing hard and fast. She caressed his face, concern mingled with fear showing on hers. He exhaled harshly, resting his head on her shoulder, his arms snaking around her waist and Anna ran her fingers soothingly through his hair, knowing he liked it when she did, whispering endearments and words of comfort into his ear.

“I’m sorry Anna, I’m sorry.” He let her stand again and pulled her into his arms completely, pressing her head gently against his chest as he held her tighter. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

She nodded, tears burning in her eyes, grateful that her Scott was back, strong, protective, in control Scott. Pulling away first, she kissed him tenderly, comforted. “Let’s go talk about Laura, okay?”

Anna took his hand and they walked back up to the upper level where she prepared him a green tea and she poured herself a black coffee in the staff kitchen. The room was empty except for the two of them, it being mid morning and classes being in session. Taking a sip, Scott’s face still wore the tense expression he had in the training room and when he spoke, his voice was serious and apprehensive.

“She’s an assassin, Anna. Created and bred specifically by the Weapon X program that now calls itself the Facility. She has a long list of murders under her belt, including the ruthless killing of a United States Senator and his aides. Matt Murdock and Captain America have provided me with a copy of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s file on her.”

She quietly regarded him over the rim of her coffee mug. “I see.”

A tic played along his jaw line. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with her being at Willowbend Academy.”

Before Anna could respond, Logan appeared in the doorway behind her. “If I thought Laura was a danger to anyone here One-Eye, I wouldn’t have brought her.”

Anna kept her eyes on Scott although she was very aware of Logan behind her, hearing him reach for a mug in the cupboard and pouring some coffee into it. Scott meanwhile stood to his full height and crossed his arms across his chest, in full X-Men leader mode. “Due to her sharing your genetic imprint Wolverine, your judgment is questionable at this point.”

Logan slowly gulped the hot beverage down his throat, taking his time. Placing the empty cup back onto the counter, he asked, “You wanna take this outside, bub?”

In a flash, both moved towards each other but Anna quickly stepped between them, hands outstretched, touching Scott, and almost touching Logan. It was an ugly moment and Anna forced herself to look at Logan, whose eyes remained fastened on Scott. He was wearing tight blue jeans and white t-shirt, the cotton material stretched over him like second skin and free of the cowboy hat, she saw that his face was exactly like it was when she last saw him, not a single new line on his achingly handsome face. His hair was definitely longer, still swept up in the familiar points but falling slightly forward now across his forehead and she fought the shiver that threatened to overtake her body in appreciation of the very sexually attractive male.

His amber glare turned to her suddenly and she quickly looked down, but not before he caught the look in her eyes. He took in the sight of her dressed in an immaculate white skirt and green silk blouse, noting the healthy blush that came over her flushed cheeks and once again he could smell Scott on her. Snarling, he stepped away from her.

“I have no problem taking Laura back to New York.”

Anna lowered her arms and turned to Scott. “That’s not going to happen. Laura is staying here.” Scott didn’t say a word and Anna narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t that right, Scott?”

“That decision hasn’t been made yet, Anna.”

She turned to look fully at him, head tilted as though she didn’t quite hear him properly. “That decision,” she told him evenly, “was made as soon as Laura arrived here.” The two looked at each other, eyes flashing. Logan moved into their line of vision, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth and their glare turned to him.

“We need a debriefing,” Anna instructed him, sitting back down. “What do you know about our newest student?”

Logan poured himself another cup of coffee and pulled out a chair from the table that was set in the middle of the room, turning it around to straddle it between his legs before sitting down, his forearms resting casually across its backrest. “She’s twelve years old and she was created to be a living weapon and assassin for hire. She has killed the people who created her, has killed the people who trained her, and has killed the woman who gave birth to her, to name just a few.”

Scott’s sharp intake of breath cut across the room and Anna clenched her fists in anger at Logan’s deliberately blunt comments. He easily met her heated look and toasted his mug to her.

“Anna, she’s too dangerous.”

She closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down before she informed Scott, “Laura is my responsibility.”

Scott became aggravated again. “The students of this academy are our responsibility.”

Her fingers rapped against the cool granite counter, and Logan arched an eyebrow at her perfectly manicured nails. Catching this, Anna re-coiled her fingers back into her palms and placed them by her sides, annoyed with herself that she did.

“Scott, I appreciate your concern.” Her voice was firm. “However, I agree with Charles that I am best suited to help Laura, and I can do so without jeopardizing the safety of my students.” The emphasis on the possessive was not lost on either man. “Furthermore,” she continued, her voice cool, “I recall another young mutant being welcomed into a school despite her demonstrated ability to cause certain death with a single touch of her skin. I would hate to think that we wouldn’t offer the same sanctuary to other young people in similar predicaments.”

Understanding dawning in his eyes, Scott reached for her, an apology on his lips but she strode past him, her heels clicking purposefully away as she made her way out of the small kitchen and into the corridor.

“Damn,” remarked Logan, full on smirk across his face now. “You fucked up, Scooter.”

Scott ignored the soft laughter that followed him out the door.

Being Anna’s second in command, Bobby took it upon himself to show Logan around, introducing him to the staff and students and explaining the goings-on of the Willowbend Academy to his fellow X-Man. It annoyed Scott, seeing the staff fawn over the Wolverine, even the children couldn’t help but gape at the famous mutant, but he knew his aggravation was due to his jealousy over Anna’s reaction to his long absent team member. He tried to catch Anna after she left the kitchen, but it was like she disappeared into thin air and the only thing that made him feel better was that she wasn’t with Logan either, having kept watch on him when he explored the estate.

Anna was actually away from the Academy altogether. She had sought Kitty out and told her that she would be gone for the day, waving away her best friend’s apology for not telling her about their newest student and her escort before their arrival. Noting the lack of engagement ring on Anna’s hand, Kitty tried to talk about their visitors, one in particular, but Anna insisted their conversation would need to wait, promising that she would be up to talking about it another time.

Taking off in her Maserati GranTurismo, Anna went into town to pick up a few things and it wasn’t until well past 9pm when she returned, pulling the sleek black sports car back into the garage. It took her a couple of trips into the manor before she emptied the convertible of all its bags, her first stop the staff kitchen, and her last stop, Laura’s room.

She found the young mutant sitting in the dark again, but this time she was sitting in the desk chair by the window overlooking the empty courtyard below. Acting as though it was perfectly normal to find her like that, Anna left the light off and began emptying the bags, separating the items according to their use; underwear in one drawer, socks in another, the remaining drawers soon filling with several pairs of pajamas, leggings, shorts and shirts. Within a half-hour, the closet and wardrobes were filled with clothes and various types of shoes, the once bare vanity table now covered with brushes, combs and hair accessories. All the while Laura looked outside, refusing to acknowledge Anna. She let out a gasp when Anna pulled her up off the chair, and she was pushed gently but firmly out into the hallway, towards the dormitory bathroom at its end. Anna turned on the shower and stripped the young girl down, holding out the soap and shampoo pointedly. Sullenly, Laura took the items and entered the small cubicle, locking the door behind her with a slam. She purposefully took a long time, and when she finally stepped out of the stall, Anna was there, patiently handing her a large warmed towel, along with new underwear and a plain grey cotton pajama set. Once dressed, Laura followed Anna back into the bedroom.

Closing the door behind her, Anna reached for the hairbrush on the vanity table but Laura grabbed it from her quickly. “I can do it,” she mumbled, turning away, confused, clearly not used to being cared for.

Anna busied herself with gathering the torn wrappers and plastic wrap she had thrown to the floor, stuffing them into the emptied shopping bags. Laura began to work out her many tangles and Anna sat on her bed, one last bag still to be emptied. Sarah Kinney must have been a very beautiful woman, Anna thought, looking back at her, and Laura’s head tilted in that familiar angle that clearly indicated Logan’s genes were at play, watching her.

Anna reached into the bag and pulled out books; some crossword puzzles, some word searches, and others classics, none geared towards a twelve year old girl. There were jigsaw puzzles and various model kits for cars, planes and boats, all ranging from moderate to advanced, in terms of difficulty. Anna placed them in a pile by the small night table, and once done, got up to leave. She resisted the impulse to hug the young girl, knowing it was too soon, very aware that Laura could leave whenever she wanted. Anna learned that trust was a precious thing. It wasn’t just earned; it needed to be proven, over and over, constantly, before it could ever be believed in. This was just the beginning.

Anna turned back to the bed and pulled down the covers before leaving the room as silently as she entered it, closing the door behind her.


*****


It was past 11pm and the dormitories were dark. The staff quarter’s had a few lights on here and there but mostly, everyone had turned in for the night. She felt a pang of guilt, thinking she should seek Scott out, knowing he felt bad for his words earlier that morning, but she just wasn’t up to it. She was tired, mentally, physically and emotionally and just wanted to crawl into her safe, comfortable bed.

After dumping the bags into the recycling bin, she walked over to her cottage at the back of the garden. She caught wind of him halfway there and would have turned around except she knew that he must have caught her scent already. She’d be damned if she was going to hide away from him in her own home.

He was barefoot and bare-chested; his blue jeans still as tight as ever, his hair defying the weather and remaining stick straight, impossible points and all. He was holding a Molson’s beer bottle in his hand, one arm supporting his weight against the white picket fence that surrounded her porch, watching her approach. Seeing him, Anna wistfully recalled how she would find him like this at the Westchester Academy so long ago, in the kitchen late at night when his nightmares would wake him up, or worse, when they woke her up. They would share buckets of ice cream, debating over silly topics like pecans versus macadamias, Canadian football over American, hockey over baseball, and she’d feel safe. Protected.

“Here I was thinkin’ you forgot how to smile.”

His words snapped her out of her reverie, and the unconscious smile disappeared from her face. “Is there something you need?” she asked him politely, stopping just shy of the porch steps, holding on to the rail.

He pushed off the white wooded rail. “Nope. Just thought I’d thank you for this,” he raised the bottle to her, “and for the cigars. I won’t ask how you got your hands on Cuban.” He was standing about three feet away from her and she remained where she was, apprehensive, watching him.

“How’s Laura?” His eyes were soft, looking at her, bathed in moonlight.

“Clean. Hopefully sleeping.” She stepped onto the porch. “Do you intend on provoking Scott the entire time you’re here?”

He laughed, and took another swig of beer, leaning back against the rail again.

Face serious, she told him, “I would prefer that you stopped.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You do, do ya?”

She crossed her arms. “Yes, I do.”

He finished the beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as the golden liquid made its way down his throat. He made a loud smacking sound of appreciation before returning his attention to her. “He treat you good?” His voice was quiet but his hazel eyes were piercing.

She kept her eyes on his, steady. “Very good.”

Moments passed. His jealousy was palpable, but he fought it, willed it away. His eyes slowly travelled along the length of her. “You look good, Marie.”

Anna didn’t trust herself to say much other than, “Thank you.” Please don’t come any closer, Logan. Please don’t.

Golden eyes searched verdant ones and for a brief moment, Anna thought she saw regret flash through his, but as quick as it appeared, it disappeared, making her doubt what she saw.

“You happy?” His eyes took on a peculiar gleam, watching her intently.

“Yes.”

He cocked an eyebrow at the too quick answer. “That’s quite an accomplishment.”

She kept her eyes on his, cold and hard. “What about you? Put all your ghosts to rest yet?”

Logan rolled the empty bottle between his palms, looking away. He looked off to the distance, and then answered, his voice quiet. “Just the dead ones.”

His eyes caught hers and the air between them became charged. Anna stepped back, unprepared for the look of torment in those gorgeous hazel eyes.

“Marie…”

Panicked, she cleared her throat, interrupting him. “It’s been a long day and I’m exhausted. I really should get some rest.”

He stared hard at her, like he was looking for something, expected something from her, and she stepped further away from him, unwilling to find out what it could possibly be, wanting to show him that it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all. But Logan didn’t hold anything back, and his want for her, his need for her, poured out of him, encircling them.

No, no, no. Don’t do this Logan. Not now. Anna forced a smile on her face, swallowing hard before telling him in a bright voice, “Good night.” She made her way into her little home, making sure to lock the door behind her, not waiting for him to reply. Leaning against the door, she squeezed her eyes shut and she could hear his breathing, his heart pounding, on the other side.

Go away, Logan. Go away, because I can’t do this if you don’t play along. She released the breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding when he finally walked away, hearing the shuffling sound of his feet making their way down the porch steps and down the cobblestone pathway, and she was relieved, no, not disappointed, relieved, when she heard the gate swing closed behind him.

She sprinted to her bathroom, her clothes dropping to the floor, her skin on fire. It was so wrong, so wrong, because god help her, every piece of her, every inch of her traitorous body, screamed for him. Stepping into the shower, cool water poured down over her feverish body, her hands followed and she choked on sobs of frustration, hating this, hating him.

Logan needed to leave. There was no room for him in her life now. None at all.


*****

Biloxi, Mississippi 2:07am.

“You little bitch! What did I say, Erin? Didn’t I tell you to get rid of it? Didn’t I?”

She nodded, terrified, backed up against the wall of the small apartment, pain stealing away her ability to speak. Not that she would have. Jonny was past being furious and she knew. She was going to die.

He grabbed the hair at the back of her head and dragged her, blood smearing the floorboards beneath her as he threw open the front door. Doors along the musty carpeted hallway slammed shut, fearing that he might see them, a cowardice shared, an apathy learned.

“You. BITCH!” He kicked her abdomen again, harder this time and she made a gurgling sound, blood pushing up her esophagus, spraying outward onto the plaster wall across from her. She curled into a ball as she coughed, her eyes swelling shut, left cheekbone shattered, lips split, jaw broken. She was dying.

She felt it before she saw it, the warm glow that filled the hallway, bright, brilliant, and all encompassing. She heard Jonny swear, fear causing his voice to raise a few octaves, demanding that something let him go. But she felt the cold creep shard like into her limbs, replacing the ripping pain that shot over her swollen belly, and she was losing consciousness, unaware that his false bravado gave way to blubbering pleas for mercy. From behind her eyelids, she could feel the light becoming brighter and warmth began to combat against the ice inside her, spreading through her as she felt herself pulled into a gentle embrace, her head resting against a strong, warm shoulder.

Don’t be afraid, Erin Drepaul.

The voice was melodic, exquisite, ethereal. She felt loved. She felt cherished. Erin tried to open her eyes, tried to speak, but blood dribbled over the side of her smashed mouth, her lungs filled with it, choking. Her entire body became warmer, almost hot, and she felt an energy course through her, a powerful but soothing wave, that took away all her pain, until there was nothing left but the strong compulsion to sleep.

The doors to the other apartments opened, its owners curious, having heard Jonny’s cries for help suddenly stop. An old woman was the first to step out, seeing his crumpled form against the wall, eyes wide and unseeing, and she cried out, dropping to her knees at the vision just outside her door.

The golden creature looked to her, tears streaming down its stricken face, and its massive six wings pulled back, revealing the motionless body of the girl. Titian colored feathers retreated into themselves, revealing its feminine form, and it bade her forward.

Come, Agnes Wilson. Come help this poor child. I could not save her baby and she has need of you.

A strong sense of peace came over Agnes, and she ignored her neighbors who tried to keep her back, fearing for her, afraid of the celestial-like being. Agnes took Erin into her arms, amazed to see not a mark on the young teenager’s face, beautiful in its innocence, her body completely healed. She looked up to the golden face of her savior and was humbled by the sight of deep sorrow on its face.

Please take care of her. I have failed.

It began to glow brighter, its golden skin becoming luminous, until everything became engulfed in pure white light. Agnes shielded her eyes, overwhelmed, and then, it was gone.

Westchester, New York 3:46 a.m.

Beast and Storm stood behind Professor X, their breathing harsh, overcome by sadness, anger, and guilt. Beast reached for his lover’s hand, and she leaned into him, both thankful for the other’s support. They knew that the emotions didn’t belong to them, that they emanated from the strange being that hovered in the centre of the X-Men hangar, above the Blackbird, but it was difficult to experience none-the-less. Its two middle wings, the largest of the six, flapped powerfully behind it, displacing the air around them, its top two wings covering its face, the bottom two covering its body modestly.

Charles reached up, both arms outstretched and it flew down to him, its spectacular wings retreating from its twenty foot span to fold into the other four before resting impossibly on its small back.

Storm and Beast stared at its revealed form, seeing for the first time in the two years since their initial meeting that it was a woman, with long, golden hair swirling about its body, its auriferous skin shining as though molten. They were shocked when it fell into the professor’s embrace, silent sobs racking its body as it accepted comfort from him, startlingly human, and tears fell unchecked down their faces as its grief washed over them, profound in its intensity.

It pulled away with a sad smile, and imparted something telepathically to Charles before looking to Hank and Ororo. Its affection for the couple surrounded them as the creature spread open all six of its massive wings, lifting up into the air, its pinions punching forward repeatedly to attain tremendous height, until it cleared the open rafters, its radiance disappearing from the hangar as it flew away into the early morning sky.

Charles Xavier turned to look at his X-Men, his face reflecting the figure’s sorrow. “She was unable to rescue the baby. The young woman’s abusive partner killed the new mutant life before her arrival. There was nothing she could do to prevent the death, the embryo became unviable.”

Ororo nodded, now understanding the anguish of the seraphic mutant and Hank placed a comforting paw onto the shoulder of the professor. The three friends walked back into the X-Mansion, solemn.


*****


Laura stood out like a sore thumb. The younger students tried to reach out to her, but her morose countenance discouraged them. The soon to be graduated class, however, consistently asked her join them in their activities, knowing that she would be returning with them at the end of summer to Westchester Academy, but even then it was clear there was nothing in common between the young girl and the other children. Julian and Amy stayed by her side, much to Laura’s annoyance, who preferred to be alone. She got rid of them a few times, but they remained persistent, never showing their annoyance at her rude behavior, always chipper and kind. After a while, she learned to tolerate them, becoming a shadow that trailed behind the school’s first alumni.


*****


Kitty did manage to finally corner Anna, who uncharacteristically had slept in. After a few half hearted denials that she was fine, Anna finally relented and admitted to her best friend that yes, having the Wolverine around was distracting.

Rubbing her belly thoughtfully, Kitty asked, “Obviously there’s some unfinished business between you two. I remember Kurt seemed to think Logan was the reason you left all those years ago, and so did Remy. Gambit blasted Logan through the first floor windows when he found out you were gone.”

Anna’s heart thudded hard. Seeing the look on her face, Kitty declared, “They were right, weren’t they?”

They were sitting outside the main dining hall where garden tables and chairs were placed about the back patio, choosing to sit under the shadow cast by the main house. Anna straightened her pink tunic dress and picked at imaginary fluff along its hem, checking her matching pumps for any scuffs. Kitty rolled her eyes, watching her.

“I’m still here you know.”

Anna pressed her thumbs against her temples, closing her eyes as though pained. “Why does it matter, Kitty? I left for a myriad of reasons.”

Kitty pressed on. “It matters, Anna, because I remember Logan’s reaction when he found out you had left. It took all of us to stop him from running out and dragging you back.”

Anna’s heart thudded hard again, a sadness settling over her, feeling very tired. “It was a good thing you did. I know I hurt you Kitty, and I told you I was sorry, but leaving the X-Men was the right thing for me to do.” She waved her hand, indicating the buildings surrounding them. “Look at what came out of my decision. No matter the reasons for me leaving, in the end, they led me to this, and it was worth it. All of it.”

Kitty played with the straw of her decaffeinated ice tea. “I thought you and Remy had a great thing going.” She stole a glance at the taller woman, curious to see her reaction.

Anna couldn’t deny the pang of angst she felt thinking of the sexy red-eyed thief. Her voice was reflective, remorseful. “It wasn’t meant to be. It ended before it began, before I even left New York, Kitty. Besides, didn’t his wife came back from the dead a few years back? Sounds to me I was lucky I didn’t get too involved.”

Kitty shook her head, surprised Anna didn’t know. “Remy and Belladonna are still divorced. He’s claimed the leadership of the Guild after saving his ex-wife’s life a while back, but he’s still an X-Man. He hasn’t been living at the X-Mansion, but he’s touched base a few times, here and there over this past year.”

“Oh.” Anna stirred her drink, eyeing the mint leaf that had sunk to the bottom of the large glass, wondering why Scott failed to mention Gambit’s return to the fold. Kitty’s next question pulled her out of her thoughts.

“How are things between you and Scott?” Kitty had decided to not tell her friend about what her husband had drunkenly revealed to her on the night of her birthday, knowing the marriage proposal must have been interrupted by the arrival of Logan and Laura. Anna’s eyes darted across the table to look at the other woman, uncomfortable, her face becoming very hot.

Face gentle, Kitty remarked, “He loves you.”

“I love him, too,” Anna told her honestly.

“Yeah, I know.” The pregnant woman’s voice matched her facial expression. “But maybe, you should deal with this thing with Logan before things get more serious between you two.”

Annoyed now, Anna pushed her drink away. “There is no ‘thing’ with…him. You’re the one who’s seems to think there is, Katherine Pryde Drake.”

Kitty was non plussed by the cold tone in Anna’s voice. “You can’t even say his name.”

“Wolverine? Of course I can!”

Kitty observed her old friend through assessing eyes. Anna was hot with anger, and her eyes were positively lit. Yep, there was a thing there, alright. But Kitty’s bladder was screaming to be emptied and she knew that she wouldn’t be getting anything more out of Anna today. “I’m grateful for everything that you’ve given me, Anna, and I love you. I would never do anything to make you unhappy, but I won’t pretend that there isn’t something there, between you and Logan. For now, I gotta pee.” She smiled to lessen the abruptness in her tone and got up, making her way back into the manor.

Anna closed her eyes after Kitty left, and took a few minutes to sort through what she had said. In her desperation to leave Xavier’s all those years ago, she never gave the proper goodbye that Remy deserved, and she still felt guilty about it, recalling how he said loved her that day outside by the frozen over fountain, thinking she didn’t hear him. Images of the handsome man flooded her mind. She remembered how drawn she felt towards him, how she would feel entranced by his voice, how desirable he made her feel, how much she wished she could kiss him, touch him. She had no idea that the New Orleans native blamed Logan for her leaving. If only Remy had come into her life earlier, if only she turned to him that night, instead of Logan, maybe her life would have been different. Maybe.

Scott found her, frowning into her empty glass. Kissing her gently, he sat in the seat that Kitty had vacated earlier. “Penny for your thoughts?”

She gave him a small smile, dispelling her unfaithful thoughts, making sure to prevent the shame she felt from showing on her face. “Too generous by far for what they’re worth, Scott. How was your baseball game with the kids?”

He pulled away the towel he had around his neck and rubbed his face with it, his neck, arms and shoulders slick with perspiration. “Cut short, it’s too hot. I dropped the boys off at the beach to join Karen and Stuart’s group, I’m just too exhausted to keep up with them. I thought I would take a shower and spend the rest of the afternoon with you.” He leaned forward and took hold of her hand, kissing it gallantly.

Anna’s smile brightened. “I would absolutely love that, Scott.”

Returning her smile, he jumped up and kissed her again, this time lingeringly. “Love you.” His face was earnest, looking down at her.

“Love you too,” she replied, just as earnestly, and pulled him down for another, more passionate kiss.

He left and she continued to sit there, watching the distant willow trees by the river sway slightly from the barely there breeze.


*****


The sunset was beginning to dip down behind the low swamplands in the distance, its fire colored light slowly overpowering the bright blue of the open sky. Humidity clung to her skin. Anna was lying on the grass, eyes closed, drawing comfort from the cool ground against her back, trying not to care that she was probably ruining her outfit from the moistness beneath her. Her ears picked up the sounds of children settling in for the night, their shouts easily drifting towards her through the still air and she sighed, forcing herself to stay where she was.

She placed her hands behind her head and looked up into the branches of the large willow tree above her. When she was a little girl, she imagined little fairies lived and danced there, way up in the shadows and amongst the silvery offshoots that draped gracefully down towards her. She would lie under this particular tree for hours, eyes darting at the slightest movement, in the hopes she could catch them, convinced that if she managed to see one - just one - a magical world would open up and she could escape into it forever and leave behind her sad, lonely existence. Looking up now, Anna could determine, with fine detail, each and every single leaf that grew out of the over fifty year old tree. There was definitely no fairy kingdom hiding up there.

She closed her eyes again, and willed her senses to deaden. She breathed in deeply, and focused on her sense of sound, instructing it to dull, telling herself to ignore the sounds around her. She held her breath, intent on dispelling the scents around her as well. She waited, and waited, but she knew it was in vain. Almost as though in punishment, every sound, every scent came roaring at her, even the feel of the crushed grass beneath her seemed to stab into her. She released the air out of her lungs very, very slowly, emptying them completely before taking in the sweet Mississippi air once more.

“Kinda hard to breathe in this weather, isn’t it?”

Anna didn’t open her eyes but she knew exactly where he was. About twenty feet away from her, slightly to the left, near the trunk of the next tree over. He had been steadily making his way towards her from the direction of the stables, smelling of glycerin and cigar and Logan. Anna determined that he was now beside her, although he had moved soundlessly. He lay down beside her.

“Hidin’?”

She kept her breathing even, her heart rate steady, reacting pleasantly to his low, rumbling voice so near her ear. “Trying.”

She heard his soft laughter and struggled to keep her lips from curling up in response. Minutes passed and she found herself tuning into the sound of his breathing, amazed that he could make something simple and necessary so distinctly him. Anna heard him shifting. He was now on his side, one arm at an angle supporting his head, the other draped across his waist as he faced her.

“You did good with this place, Marie.”

She nodded, acknowledging his compliment, eyes still closed. He smelled so good, and she inhaled deeply again, enjoying it, enjoying the calmness she felt.

“A lot of kids over there wanna trap the moon for you.” His voice was raspy, sexy, and close.

Her heart tripped a bit but she willed herself to maintain a steady beat, not wanting to lose the peace that she was feeling. No anger, no passion, just her and Logan, almost like the way it used to be. She couldn’t prevent a tinge of sadness from creeping in. “I know the feeling,” she whispered without thinking, her voice catching a bit.


Damn, damn, damn!


She stood up abruptly but Logan was right there, placing his hand on her forearm to prevent her from leaving. It was the first time they touched since he arrived, and the contact burned them both. She kept her face averted from him.

“Don’t, Logan. We can’t go back to...” Anna stopped, not knowing how to go on, so she just pushed through in a rush of words, sadness and regret in her voice. “We can’t go back to how things were before.” She took a deep breath and finally looked at him.

Logan felt his world tilt as her beautiful eyes took possession of his. She seemed smaller, free from the high heeled shoes that she always wore and looking down at her, at her familiar height, his breath caught, stunned by how much he loved her.

Anna knew that she could tap into the anger that was always simmering at the surface, it was her strongest weapon against him, and she needed it to hold back all of the other emotions she felt towards the man who was now looking at her with an unfathomable expression on his face. She wanted to lash out and hurt him, to see pain in those mesmerizing topaz eyes, too retaliate in kind to the heartache he caused her during the time when she had needed him most. But she accepted long ago that Logan hadn’t wanted her, she knew she had risked it all, laid herself bare to him, literally, and had lost. He had seen her as a lonely, sad little girl, who was possessed by a feral mutation that she couldn’t control, pitiful Rogue, who threw herself at the resident sex god of the X-Mansion because of a crush she foolishly nursed over the years. Awkward, undesirable, pathetic.

Logan watched her face, seeing her struggle with her thoughts and he wanted to demand she tell him what they were, so he could battle them, so he could repair the damage he caused. He wished they could go back in time to when she was his sweet Marie; the woman who turned to him for comfort, for guidance, for friendship so he could stop her from becoming Anna; the prim, proper, perfect headmistress with the aristocratic voice and demeanor who wore designer clothes and towering heels, who maintained perfectly manicured hands and played the matching set piece to good guys like Scott Summers.

Anna pulled her arm free from his hold. It was a small movement, but it was enough.

“I missed our friendship,” Anna admitted quietly, her eyes dim. “I missed the way things used to be, between us. But that was a long time ago. If you felt any responsibility for me leaving all those years ago, I want you to know, it’s alright.” Anna swallowed down the lump in her throat but her voice was strong as she told him, “Because, I’m over you.” She looked away from him and left, walking swiftly through the open field, back to the academy’s main grounds.


I’m over you.


Her words were like a bullet, ricocheting through his entire body with a destructive force, leaving the sharpest pain he had ever felt, in their wake. Logan watched her small frame reduce in size as she moved away from him. Further and further away.


But I’m not over you, darlin’. I’m not over you.

Anna and Laura sat in the large training room deep below the ground floor of the academy, both dressed in simple gym pants and t-shirts. The students and faculty were away on a day trip to Biloxi and Anna took advantage of the opportunity by having Laura remain with her instead of visiting the Ohr-O'Keefe Museum of Art with her class-mates. Scott volunteered to stay behind to assist but Laura insisted on Logan, and only Logan, so reluctantly, Scott boarded the chartered bus, clearly unhappy. Before he did, Anna kissed him, deliberately in front of everyone, determined to reassure Scott every chance she got that she loved him. Logan was keeping his distance from her ever since that evening in the meadow and was focused entirely on Laura and yet Scott’s jealousy continued to make him hostile and wary towards his fellow X-Man.

“Everything alright down there?”

She was startled out of her thoughts by Logan’s terse voice booming from the speakers around them. Laura was looking at her impatiently.

“Sorry.” Anna rolled her head, snapping it side to side sharply to release the tension she felt. She looked to the young girl sitting cross legged on the floor in front of her. “Are you ready?” Anna asked her softly, aware of Laura’s growing anxiety.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Laura’s legs were shaking, and her hands pulled at her hair.

Anna held out her hand, smiling encouragingly. “It’s okay Laura. We’ll stop anytime you want to. I promise.”

Laura’s eyes lifted up to Logan, who was standing by the large window in the observation room above them, grim-faced. At his nod, she closed her eyes and placed her hand into Anna’s. Anna closed her eyes as well and switched on her skin mutation. Gentle, with a faint buzz, both females felt the connection and Laura’s memories began to flood into Anna’s mind. Anna deftly pushed the images to the side and began to isolate each memory according to its age, pulling up the first images and its corresponding emotions to the forefront for closer inspection.


A sterile environment – a laboratory, so like the memories, nightmares, that belonged to the Wolverine - isolated – training, tests, training– a child - a weapon – X-23 - made to kill – made to kill


Anna reached for Laura’s other hand and gripped the young girl’s hands, a slow anger building inside her.


Seven years old - exposed to radiation - kick starting her mutation – arms and feet sliced open without anesthesia - exposing two claws from each hand, one claw from one foot - coated in adamantium – screaming, crying, healing – Dr. Sarah Kinney, looking so much like a grown up Laura - sneaking into the white walled cell - holding her, reading books to her, brushing her hair


Anna felt tears prick her eyelids. Laura’s favorite story was Pinocchio; she wanted to be a real girl.


Laying her head down on a soft lap - pushed away because eyes were watching, watching – waiting, waiting – do better, be stronger, be faster


Anna winced, the memory of Laura’s first kill flashing through her mind, abrupt and harsh, chilled by the lack of emotion expressed by the young child. She felt Laura try to pull her hands away, sensing Anna’s shock, but Anna held on tighter, rubbing the young girl’s knuckles reassuringly with her thumbs. Logan continued to watch the two below him unblinkingly, on edge.


Dr. Martin Sutter, Dr. Zander Rice - killing them both - destroying the pods that held the embryos for more Weapon X clones, numbers X-24 through to X-50 - walking away from the young son of Dr. Rice, little boy hiding in a closet - won’t kill, won’t kill – escape, escape


Anna smiled. Laura was no monster, the memory revealing that she could disobey orders and make a conscientious choice. Then there was nothing, pure nothingness, and Anna eyebrows knitted together in concentration, forcing her way through. Laura whimpered, and a blur of shrieking images blew past Anna consciousness, directly into the box she made for Laura’s psyche in her mind, burying deep inside it. Anna went after it, startled by its viciousness, but another memory broke through, grabbing her attention.


Aunt Debbie and cousin Megan – in danger - kill him – running away - living in New York – oh god, those men, those BASTARDS, how could they, she was just a CHILD - slicing, hurting, watching, waiting - finding the Wolverine


It was here that Anna faltered.


Brutal, bloody - tearing into his body, ripping away flesh, exposing his adamantium skeleton, bleeding him out - his heartbeat slowing, slower, stopping – no mercy – anger, disgust, he won’t fight back – the Wolverine must die, DIE


Gasping, Anna let go of Laura’s hands and covered her mouth, fighting back the bile that had risen up in her throat from the grotesque scene in her mind. The room began to spin, and she fell forward on all fours, closing her eyes, her heart beating too, too fast. Anna couldn’t get any air into her lungs, the horror of witnessing Logan dying taking hold of her, and she screamed soundlessly, powerless to help him, devastated.

Suddenly, she felt strong, large hands grab hold of her, pulling her up off the floor, and she heard a masculine voice call out her name. Squeezing her eyes tightly, she tried to calm down, tried to shut away the images of Logan being ripped apart, disemboweled and sprawled across a forest floor just outside the X-Mansion, because he was here, alive, and he was safe. With her.

“Marie, look at me!”

She blinked rapidly, still unable to breathe, her throat straining into itself, refusing to allow air in. She tried to focus on Logan who was looking at her with fear in his eyes, holding her face between his hands, and the border around her vision began to darken from lack of oxygen.

“My memories must not be very pretty,” Laura told Logan, dispassionately watching Anna’s reaction.

Logan pulled Marie into his arms, the stench of her terror pulling out his Wolverine, clawing forward to protect her. He growled, telling her harshly, “You need to pull back, darlin'. Shut Laura’s memories away, right now!”

She was struggling with the poisoned black of Laura’s hate that the young girl experienced when she had tracked the Wolverine, and a low growl began at the back of Anna’s throat, succumbing to the ferocious murderous rage. She had to kill the Wolverine. He was why she had been created, the reason why she was a monster, and he needed to die, had to die.

Logan watched in fascination as her green irises split into feline ovals, her lip curling back into a snarl, her scent replaced by malice.

His distraction cost him - six claws burst from Anna’s hands and they swung towards him, catching him across his throat and slashing it open. Blood spurted forth in a broad arc, spraying them and floor all around them and Logan dropped to the ground, clutching at his neck to stem the flow, choking on the blood that poured freely over his hands from the deep wounds.

Anna drove her fists downwards, aiming for his back, and although weakening from his rapid blood loss, Logan rolled away, trapping her left leg between the two of his. He forced her down, pinning her underneath him and holding on tight, trapping her arms between them. She struggled violently and singular bone claws jutted out from the front of her feet, barely missing his legs as his blood continued to pour over her, joining the growing crimson pool beneath them on the concrete floor.

“Damn it Marie, stop it!” He was straining with the effort to hold her down, his healing factor barely keeping up, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to restrain her much longer. Laura didn’t move, confused and fascinated by the scene in front of her.

A powerful fragrance, strong and intense, began to cloud over Anna. It was overwhelming, irresistible, and she inhaled it, tasted it, her body instantly responsive. Her irises returned to their natural shape, refocusing on the aroused feral male on top of her, and her senses sharpened with awareness. With a purr, her claws sheathed themselves, and she lifted her body upwards, grabbing his hips and thrusting hers forward, spreading her legs apart so he settled in between them, growling as she slid herself against the hardness she found there. Logan grabbed the long twisted braid of her hair and met her eyes fiercely, his other arm wrapping around her small waist, keeping his body pressed against her intimately, grinding downwards, feeling her heat, smelling her reaction to him. The Wolverine growled in response.

“Well, that was effective.”

Laura’s voice was like a blast of cold water. Anna gasped and pushed against Logan’s chest, his blood coating her palms, making them slip. Thick and red, it was all over her, and her eyes shot to his throat where the three gashes she had caused were stitching into themselves. Logan stared at her, breathing hard and fast, and let her go, the Wolverine roaring in protest. She rolled away from him and jumped off the floor, her eyes darting between him and Laura, horror at what she had done dawning in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, trembling visibly, wiping her hands on her clothes, but his blood was there too, slick and viscous. Logan moved towards her, but she held out her hand in warning. She stared at it, specifically the spaces between her knuckles, and lowered her eyes to her feet, her skin itching where it repaired itself over the puncture holes the bones claws had created. Her inner Laura was shrieking, furious she had let the Wolverine go and she fisted her hands into her hair, conflicted because her body was on fire for a man she had wanted to kill only seconds earlier.

“You got my foot claws too,” she heard Laura remark, curiosity making the young girl slide her own out, after seeing it replicated in the older woman. “But without the adamantium. Lucky for you, huh Wolverine?”

Anna turned her back to them and crossed her arms to hold her shoulders together in an attempt to stop shaking; trying to sort through the memories she got from Laura, and the disturbing emotions that came with them. It hadn’t been her intention to absorb Laura’s mutation, she had lost control when she saw Logan being attacked so ruthlessly by the young girl, and the mindless loathing Laura felt at that time was staggering. That Logan survived Laura’s attack was incredible, the younger feral was identical to him, a true killer, determined to end the life of the mutant that she considered responsible for making her a freak of science, an abomination. X-23 had set out to destroy the Wolverine and she had almost succeeded because of his refusal to fight back, having received the letter from her mother asking he take care of Laura should she not make it out of the Facility alive.

But there was something else, something that terrified Anna, and it had to do with Dr. Sarah Kinney. She slammed the rest of Laura’s psyche into her box, wincing from the sharp pain that sliced through her head from the effort.

“Marie?” Logan was standing behind her, but she flinched, spinning around to face him. He wiped away the blood on his hands on the front of his jeans, clearly agitated by the accusing look in her eyes. “I had to do something to stop you. I didn’t mean for us to...”

Anna forced herself remain there standing, although her flight instinct was screaming. “It’s fine, Logan. I understand.” She sounded calm, but the other two ferals knew she was anything but. Face tight, aware of this, she said stiffly, “I have to go.” She walked away, resisting the urge to break into a run, counting each foot forward. I can do this, I can do this.

Laura looked to Logan as Marie left the room, but he ignored her, fighting against his own instincts that demanded he give chase.

Anna scrubbed Logan’s blood from her hair; her face and neck, her arms and hands, everywhere. She scrubbed so vigorously that she could feel her healing factor kick in to replace the skin she was scraping off in her desperation to get clean. Breathing deeply, she filled her lungs with as much air as she could, several times, trying to calm down. The look on Logan and Laura’s faces flashed into her mind and she punched the wall of her shower stall in frustration.

Goddamn it! She had been so careful over the years, she had such control and just like that, she lost it.

She stepped out of the shower and dried herself quickly. Pulling on a cream colored linen skirt with matching blouse, she brushed her hair tightly into a bun and applied her makeup sparingly but expertly, taking comfort in the mindless routine. Slipping on a pair of high heeled sandals, she made her way out of the small cottage, her composure restored.

She found the two of them out by the pool, showered and changed into fresh clothes themselves, the mid afternoon sun blasting down all around them. They were quiet, their blue jeans rolled up to above their knees, their lower legs swinging slowly back and forth in the water. They didn’t look up as she approached them. Anna plucked off her shoes and sat down beside Laura, sticking her legs into the pool as well.

“I’m sorry, Laura. I didn’t mean to absorb your mutation.” Anna looked intently at the young girl, concerned because Laura was back to being tense around her. Laura didn’t look at her. Sighing, now that she understood how the child processed information, Anna regarded their feet, the shapes distorted by the water. Logan looked over Laura’s head at Marie, his corners of his mouth turning down when she didn’t acknowledge him.

“Outside of you two and Professor Xavier, no one is aware of my feral mutation. As for what happened in the training room,” Anna sighed. “I don’t know. I haven’t lost control of my skin like that in a very long time.”

Logan remained silent, keeping his eyes on her. Laura asked, “You can’t control your power?”

“I can. Usually.” She refused to look at Logan and instead, focused on Laura. “I lost my concentration and it was my fault. I should have been better prepared.”

Laura ears pushed back. “So now you have my mutation, and I’m inside your head?” Something changed in Laura’s scent. The young girl pulled her feet out of the pool and turned to face Anna, her head tilted, eyes blank of expression.

“In a way,” Anna replied. “You’re safely tucked away in your very own box within my mind.”

“So you know everything.” Laura’s eyes became sharp.

Anna‘s instincts told her to be alert. “I could, if I examine your memories in detail, which I haven’t.” Anna’s voice became gentle. “What is a trigger scent, Laura?”

Laura stared at her. Logan broke his silence, confused. “Trigger scent?”

“The Facility developed a trigger scent that would immediately place Laura into a mindless berserker state, unable to control herself, killing anyone within her vicinity.” Anna’s eyes stayed on the young girl between them. “Part of being feral is the ability to throw up psychic defenses, Laura. I know that you aren’t able to recall the times when you’ve been exposed to your trigger scent, but you have to know, I don’t require that same psychic protection.” Anna waited until she saw understanding dawn in the young girl’s eyes. Seeing it, she told her, “I have your berserker memories, Laura, although I haven’t accessed them. I can find out what happened to your mother, and to the others. It’s up to you.”

Laura jumped up, growling.

“Stand down, Laura.” Wolverine got up slowly, making no sudden moves but his entire body was sprung tight, eyes fastened on the young feral. Anna remained where she was, deceptively still. She kept her eyes on Laura.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three heartbe…

Logan lunged for the young girl just as her foot kicked out towards Anna’s skull, the single adamantium blade cleanly slicing apart the flesh on Anna’s cheek the same instant Anna dove into the water to avoid the death blow. Logan wrapped his arms around Laura, swearing loudly as a thick ribbon of blood trailed behind Anna in the water as she swam to the other side of the pool. When she hauled herself out of the water, he could see she was bleeding profusely, her exposed cheek bone as white as the streak in her hair. The sight of her mutilated face enraged him.

“God damn it kid! She’s on your side!” Sharp relief flooded through him when the horrible gash on Anna’s face began to close. She dove back into the water, quickly making her way back to them.

“You should leave,” Logan grunted as Laura fought with renewed strength at the sight of her resurfacing near them. “She won’t be calming down anytime soon.”

Saddened by the rage Laura was feeling towards her, Anna lightly caressed the girl’s cheek. Laura’s eyes rolled back into her head and she passed out, limp in Logan’s arms. Anna closed her eyes and grimaced as she placed the screeching girl back into her box within her mind. She felt a hand on her face and her eyes flew open.

“You alright, Marie?” Logan’s fingers traced her still closing wound, his gaze a mixture of concern and tenderness.

She nodded quickly and tore her eyes away from him to rest on the child who looked much younger in her forced sleep. Logan picked Laura up easily, her head rolling back against his chest, looking very small in his powerful arms. Anna turned to walk back to the manor and he followed her, back down into the lower levels to the med-bay.

He laid Laura down on one of the empty beds and Anna covered her with a blanket, pushing back the hair that fell across the young girl’s face. She carefully combed Laura’s long black hair as best she could with her fingers before trapping it into a braid; pulling impatiently at her own wet hair to unwind it from its tight bun to access the elastic there.

“She’ll be out cold for a couple of hours,” she told the taciturn man beside her, twisting the hair band around the bottom of the braid she had made, “I made sure to not take more energy from her than was necessary.” Anna began to shake her hair out, intending to put it into a braid as well, but Logan’s hands stopped her.

She stared as his fingers worked into her hair, running them gently through to the ends, his movements gentle. He arranged the wet tresses so they fell past her shoulders, its dark waves cascading to her waist, curling the white strands behind the curve of her ear. Her wet clothes clung to her, her lace underwear visible through the now transparent, thin material. His eyes made their way down the entire length of her body, slowly and deliberately, before latching onto her eyes, his own darkening. Anna’s heart began to beat erratically, heat rushing through her, her skin electric and she forced herself to take in air, her breasts straining against her soaked clothing from the ragged movement. A moan escaped him, a desperate, guttural sound and he stepped closer, causing her to back up against the wall, alarmed.

“Just a touch,” he told her roughly, close to pleading.

His fingers brushed along her forehead, tracing the arch of her eyebrows before caressing her cheeks, lingering where the gash had once been. His thumbs rubbed against her bottom lip, his breath hitching and she shivered, catching it. His hands continued their path down her throat, gliding across her shoulders to where they lowered slowly down her arms, taking hold of her hands. He raised them to his lips, kissing the palm of each one, each fingertip, his struggle showing on his face.

Anna watched him, unable, unwilling, to move away. His mouth hovered above hers, his intense eyes transfixed on her lips. With a visible effort, he lowered her hands back to her sides, releasing them.

“You need to get away from me, Marie.” He closed his eyes, and his entire body shaking with restraint. “Right now.”

She felt frozen in place, her breathing shallow and light. Logan radiated power, his tall frame vibrating from his repressed desire for her. Anna wanted to let go, to feed her hunger for him, it had been torture for far too long, denying that she wanted this. That she wanted him.

Anna placed her hands on his chest and his eyes shot open. Hope, want, and something else, shined there in his eyes, almost desperate in how they searched hers. Her face softened, understanding how he felt, her bright green eyes glittering with emotion and she looked at his lips, her own parting invitingly.

“Logan?” The disembodied voice rang out around them, abrupt and loud. Logan growled, the sound ferocious with frustration, and he looked up to see Bobby in the observatory. From his location directly above, he couldn’t see Anna leaning against the wall.

Chest heaving, Logan pressed his forehead against hers, giving her a haunted, starved look. Then he pivoted on his heel and strode out of the room.

Anna’s body strummed with need. After a few moments, over the sound of her frantically beating heart, she could hear Bobby and Logan leave the observatory; both now out in the hallway and making their way away from the med bay to the training room.

Anna ran. She ran and ran and ran.


****


Laura was surprised to find the woman she had tried to kill sitting on the bed next to her when she woke up. With a gentle smile, Anna placed a tray of food across Laura’s lap and waited as the young girl ate, informing her that she decided to teach Laura how to ride a horse that day, as though what had transpired hours ago was inconsequential.

Laura was mute as she listened to Anna’s instructions and kept her eyes downcast to the ground when they entered the stable. She didn’t acknowledge Anna’s encouraging words when she first attempted to mount the horse that had been chosen for her, the tension so thick between the two females that it cloyed in both their lungs. After a few false starts, Laura managed to stay upright and her eyes flashed proudly. Catching Anna’s smile, Laura frowned and turned away, unwilling to share the moment.

They rode in silence towards the estate’s southern border. Both powerful horses galloped leisurely towards the beach, prancing excitedly when they reached the retreating waves. Without warning, Anna kicked her horse’s flanks with her legs and yelled out, leaning into the animal’s mane before it tore off like shot down the shoreline. Laura stared after her, pulling back hard on her reins when the horse beneath her bucked impatiently. Fear curled in her belly, unfamiliar and unwelcome, a scowl appearing on her face when she saw that Anna had no intention of returning to her. Before she could think twice about it, Laura mimicked what Anna had done, and held on tight as her own horse tore after its stable mate.

Nothing could have prepared Laura for the exhilarating euphoria she felt as she raced along the crashing shore of the beach.

Anna reined in her horse a few miles away, and looked back at Laura. The joy on the child’s face as the wind blew back her long black hair was spectacular. When Laura pulled up beside her, Anna was fascinated by the wide smile on the young girl's face. And Laura’s smile didn’t disappear this time. She reached out her hand to the older woman.

“Thank you.” Her enormous green eyes were filled with grateful tears.

Anna felt like her face would crack from the size of her reciprocating smile. She squeezed Laura’s hand understandingly with her own and with a wink, she yelled again. Both horses raced against the surf, their riders laughing as water sprayed up over them, hooves tearing up the sand behind them.


*****


Logan watched the couple as they walked hand and hand along the back garden’s cobblestoned path. He could hear the man’s whispers, telling the woman how beautiful she was. He watched as he took her into his arms, pausing to look down into her lovely face before kissing her, and watched when she returned the kiss, curling her fingers into his hair.

Logan remained in the shadows, watching as their kiss deepened. He watched as the man pressed the woman against him, his hands sliding from her waist to the small of her back, holding her closer. He heard him tell her how much he loved her, how happy she made him, how grateful he was that she belonged to him. He watched him kiss her bare shoulders, his hands caressing her back and he watched as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, giving access. Submissive, receptive.

A night breeze swirled around him. The delicate wind made its way to the embracing couple and Anna pulled away from Scott, startled. She looked up to the balcony outside of Logan’s room, but saw no one there.

Logan had taken to doing the rounds every night, making sure that every student was accounted for and in bed, and that freed time for Anna to spent every moment she could with Scott. Although he continued to avoid her, she knew that Logan watched her.

He watched her early in the morning when she would go swimming in the pool after taking her daily run around the perimeter of the estate and he watched her when she would visit classes throughout the day. He watched her when she pretended to be blown by wind, much to the delight of the young students in the creative dance room, and he watched her correct the forms of young ballet dancers when they struggled for balance at the barre. He watched her demonstrate proper breathing techniques to reach perfect and sustained pitch, and he watched her sit at the piano with the students, tuning violins and guitars while patiently answering, what seemed to him, endless questions from the children. He watched her groom the horses before and after riding lessons, and watched her comb children’s hair in the common room after dinner, encouraging young artists as they painted on easels set up along the large bank of windows. She never rushed, always listened, affectionate and gentle with the students, gracious and kind to the staff. He watched her greet the many guests and business associates who came to the academy, graceful and charming, every inch the well mannered, soft spoken genteel lady she had become.

Impeccably dressed, prepared, dependable, responsible, very much like…

Yes. The similarities were many.

But Logan didn’t watch her when she was with Scott. Whenever the X-Men leader appeared by her side, Logan always, always, looked away.


*****


Bobby, Kitty, Logan, Anna and Scott were sitting around a boardroom table in the war room beneath the academy. It was late Thursday afternoon, and four weeks had passed since Logan’s arrival with Laura.

“She’s adapted well to be being around other children,” Bobby contributed, agreeing with his wife who had just verbally handed in her report on their newest student. He leaned back against the comfortable leather chair. “Laura’s not your average twelve year old, but I see a marked difference in her behavior since arriving here a couple of weeks ago.”

Charles Xavier’s holographic image sharpened. “I’m glad that she has developed a relationship with Julian and Amy, and has become familiar with your recently graduated class. It will make her transition back to the senior academy less jarring.” His eyes rested on Anna. “Good work, Anna.”

Anna straightened in her chair and told her former mentor, “While I think she should attend classes Charles, accommodations need to be made for her. Expecting her to partake in the same level scholastically with the other students is unrealistic. She is already well educated and speaks ten languages fluently. Her SAT score is perfect. Attending classes is imperative for socialization, but I feel the focus ought to be more on her training with the intention of joining the junior team, if she chooses to, in the future.”

Professor Xavier nodded his head at her words, the familiar wood paneling of his study visible behind him.

“I’ll be back in New York on Monday, Chuck.”

All eyes turned to Logan. He was sitting alone at the far end of the table, his legs propped up on the seat of an empty chair, cowboy hat set low on his head.

Anna looked away, frowning slightly. She heard Professor Xavier say, “Good. We will need a field leader to stay behind with the students while Henry, Ororo, Scott and I attend the Senate Committee meeting next week.”

Scott’s eyes were on Anna, watching her.

“Are you able to join us in Washington, Anna?” asked the professor, eyes resting on her again.

She nodded, avoiding Scott’s probing gaze and ignoring the disappointment that had flooded through her at Logan’s words. “I’ll be there. Bobby and Kitty will be in charge during my absence, so the junior academy will be well taken care of.”

“Wonderful. By the way my dear, I hope you have a wonderful time at your charity gala tomorrow night.”

Smiling, she replied, “Thank you, Charles.”

He returned the smile and then addressed the group as a whole. “Goodbye, my X-Men. Keep up the good work.” And with that, Professor Xavier’s image dissolved from view.

Everyone stood up to leave but Logan had already left the room, leaving the war room door open in his wake. Anna looked at his empty chair, her face clouding over.

Scott rested his hand on top of hers, startling her out of her thoughts. “Ready for dinner, sweetheart?”

She nodded and stood up, taking his hand as he led her out of the room.


*****


It wasn’t too hard to find him. The stench of his cigar made her want to wretch.

“Can you put that away, Wolvie? I think I’m gonna hurl.”

With an annoyed grunt, he stubbed out the just lit Cuban on the meter high brick wall he was sitting on that bordered the back garden’s inner courtyard. “You don’t have to be here, kid.”

Kitty had a look of disgust on her face, her bulky frame preceding her before she came into view. “Neither do you, you know.”

Logan arched an eyebrow at the expectant mother. “House rules, kitten. No smokin’ near the kids.”

She leaned against the low lying wall beside him, her expressive brown eyes flashing in annoyance. “I meant, you don’t have to be here. In Mississippi.”

He regarded her for a few moments before deciding to ignore her comment. “Got a name for him?”

She wasn’t going to let him change the subject. “Yeah. It’s moron.”

“Holy shit. Poor kid.”

“I meant you. You need to talk to Anna. The sooner the better, I’d say.”

He swung his legs to the top of the wall and lay all the way down, closing his eyes and resting his hands on his stomach. “I think you lost your mind, Mrs. Popsicle.”

Kitty glared at him as he rotated his shoulders to get more comfortable. She tried a different tactic. “You know, Rogue was always such a hurt little thing.”

His jaw clenched, but his eyes remained closed, making no indication that he had heard her.

“She always tried to hide it from us, the times when she felt sad. We knew it was hard for her, seeing how close we were to our families, or when we began to develop relationships. She had such a hard time fitting in at first, and it was even worse for her after the Liberty Island incident.” Kitty voice became softer, remembering. “She was so quiet, and kept to herself, tormented as she was with all those voices running around in her head. The only time she was ever truly happy, was when you were around.”

Logan remained silent. Despite the even rise and fall of his chest, Kitty knew she had his full attention, and she carried on, undeterred.

“It was obvious there was something special between you two. I guess almost killing each other can do that to people. We all knew she was nursing a big ass crush on you, the whole time. Bobby tried to reach out to her, and lots of guys tried after him, but in Rogue’s eyes, I guess they all couldn’t measure up. And you only had eyes for Jean.”

His jaw clenched again. Kitty stepped closer to him, looking up into the clear early evening sky before resting her eyes back on him.

“We pretended not see her tears each time you left,” she continued, aware that he was getting upset. “And we pretended not to notice the change in her behavior the few times that you did come back. The happy girl you got to see definitely wasn’t the same girl we saw whenever you weren’t around. When we almost lost her, she kept asking the professor to keep trying to locate you with Cerebro, just so that she could tell you goodbye in case she didn’t make it. She didn’t want you to feel guilty, for not being there for her when she needed you.” Kitty shifted uncomfortably. Her swollen feet were killing her.

In an instant, Logan jumped off the wall and grabbed two iron garden chairs nearby, placing them beside her. She gratefully sat down, fanning herself with her hand in an attempt to get relief from the heat around them. He reached for her legs, placed them across his lap, and began to massage one of her feet.

“Better, Kitkat?” he asked sympathetically.

“You have NO idea,” she groaned, fluttering her eyelids in pleasure. His large strong fingers rubbed her aching appendage, and she decided to enjoy it, staying quiet for the time being. The two friends remained that way for a few minutes.

“She was too young.” His voice was so quiet she had to strain to hear him.

Kitty considered what he said for a few moments, and sighed. “That’s the thing, Logan. Rogue was never too young. She just looked it.”

His face shuttered closed at her words. He reached for her other foot, and began giving it the same attention as he did the first. “I’m an old man, Kitty. I’ve lived lifetimes already. She might have had the memories of other people’s lifetimes trapped in her mind, but she didn’t have any experiences of her own. She deserves to at least have that.” He was silent, and then added, “Women have nasty habit of dyin’ around me.”

Kitty caught the bleakness in his gruff voice. She lifted her legs off his lap and stood up, facing him.

“I remember the day she gained control of her skin.” She smiled at the memory. “I had never seen her so happy, Logan. And yet, the very next day, I had never seen her so devastated.” Kitty gave him a hard look. “Rogue said she had to leave, letting us think it was because of her father’s surprise appearance. She came back here and inherited not just this place, but her father’s guilt as well. After his death, she set about achieving all the dreams he had for her, just so that he could rest in peace. But is she truly living her life, gathering up all these experiences you say she needs and deserves? Or is she living for someone else, as someone else?”

A deep weariness settled over Katherine Pryde Drake that had nothing to do with the baby now kicking with gusto within her. Rubbing her belly, her heart ached for the miserable man in front of her. She touched his arm gently. “I just need her to be happy, Logan.”

She kissed his cheek and walked away.

Anna knew there was something on Scott’s mind; he had been distracted all night long. He barely responded to her comments about the recent goings on in Washington with the proposed Mutant Registration Bill, when it was all he could talk about for the past few weeks. He seemed more interested in his glass of wine than in her.

They had visited the Pearl River Conservatory earlier which had been beautifully decorated for the following night’s festivities. The elite of Caldecott County were looking forward to seeing Anina perform for the Biloxi Children’s Hospital Charity Gala being held there, and Anna met up with Oliver who would be accompanying her on the piano for the performance. After a few rehearsals of various arias, Anna cut short their appointment, sensing Scott’s anxiety escalating. She left the song selection in Oliver’s hands, requesting that he just choose a song he felt best suited to her, over Scott protests. He told her to take her time, but she took Scott’s arm and led him through the downtown streets of Pearl River towards their favorite Italian bistro, intent on enjoying the rare opportunity to be away from the academy.

Now it was two hours later. Anna put down her glass of wine and took Scott’s hand into hers. “What is it, Scott? Is it the hearing next week that has you so distracted tonight? The Mutant Registration Bill isn’t a done deal, we’ve prevented it for almost ten years already. We just need to remain vigilant, that’s all. We have enough support to keep it from passing into law. It’ll be alright.”

Scott was silent for a few moments. Then he squeezed her hand, suddenly serious. “That’s not what I want to talk about, Anna.”

She tilted her head, smiling encouragingly. “What do you want to talk about then?”

“Us.”

She felt herself flush and her mouth suddenly became very dry. She lifted her glass to her lips, taking a small sip, before asking in a quiet voice, “What about us?”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. Almost angrily, he told her, “I love you, Anna.”

Fear began to take a hold of her. “I love you, too,” she told him softly, her eyes darting over his handsome face. His ruby quartz visor reflected the candlelit centerpiece on the table between them.

Scott pressed her hand again to his lips, his hold on it tighter. She saw him swallow harshly and the anguish that began to pour of him slammed into her. She leaned forward, growing more afraid, and placed her free hand against his cheek. “Please, Scott. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He released her hand. The expression on his face became haggard. “I’m letting you go, Anna.”

She stared at him, not understanding. “Letting me go?” she repeated, pulling back.

Scott fought the impulse to gather her into his arms and kiss away the pain that began to seep into her eyes. But he pressed forward, determined. “We can’t pretend anymore.” His voice was rough with emotion and he cleared it before adding more calmly, “We both know that Logan coming back has changed things.”

Anna closed her eyes, her throat suddenly very tight. There was a loud roaring in her ears and she was grateful that she and Scott were the only people left in the small restaurant. The serving staff had left the dining room to afford them privacy after having served them their desert minutes before, and didn’t seem to be returning any time soon.


Thiscan’tbehappeningpleasepleasethiscan’tbehappening


“Anna. Anna, look at me.” Scott’s voice seemed to be coming at her from very far away. She felt his fingers lace themselves through hers and she stared at them, as though seeing them for the first time. Her vision blurred immediately with tears. She blinked and the first few escaped.

“Please sweetheart, don’t cry.” Scott’s voice was thick, tormented.

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly behind her. The owner came to investigate the sound, a big grin on his face, but he stared at the scene, confused. This wasn’t what he expected at all. Anna turned to him and forcibly read his thoughts as he backed into the kitchen.


La signorina must have said no. How sad, they looked so in love. What a bellissima bride she would have made.


Shock raced through her. Her eyes turned back to Scott, who was standing up now and looking so miserable that her aching heart twisted even more painfully. “Why, Scott?” She asked him, taking a step towards him. “Why are you doing this to us?”

He stepped back, not wanting to her to touch him, feeling his resolve weakening. Scott wasn’t prepared for how hurt she would be. “I’m not blind, Anna,” he told her harshly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a black velvet jeweler’s box. He threw it onto the table and it rolled awkwardly across the white linen. “I had intended to give this to you on your birthday.” His voice was flat, emotionless. “I was going to ask you tonight.”

She stared at the box, and shook her head, the reality of what was happening beginning to hit her.

“Scott?” She looked beseechingly at him but he looked away, the sight of her heart breaking too difficult for him to witness. A tic played along his jaw, telling her that he was getting angry. She approached him slowly, hoping he wouldn’t move away from her again. He didn’t, but he still wouldn’t look at her.

Barely able to speak from the pain, she whispered, “Ask me, Scott. Ask me to marry you.”

Anna felt as though she was made of the thinnest glass as she waited for him to reply. This was the man who took her to Alaska when he discovered it had been her teenage dream to go there, where he shared with her his earliest memories, what little he could remember, before his parents were killed in a horrific plane crash, orphaning him. This was the man who shared with her the terrible memories of being placed in foster home after foster home, before being rescued by Professor Xavier. He shared with her the joy he felt at the discovery that his younger brother Alex was still alive, and how the responsibility of being the X-Men leader weighted heavily on him. This was the man who understood what it felt to have a mutation that you couldn’t control; who understood what it felt to not be loved as a child. He shared with her the devastation he felt at the loss of his first love, and how he thought he could never love again.

This was the man who showed her how to trust again, love again. Anna reached out to him, but he backed away from her as though she were a toxin. His body became tense and still as stone.

“I wanted you to wear that ring for all the wrong reasons.” He took a steadying breath before bravely looking into her eyes. “I wanted Logan to see that you belonged to me. I wanted to brand you with that ring. I wanted him to see that I won.” Each word was like a stab directly into her heart.

“But you bought that ring before he came here, Scott.” Her eyes were begging him to listen to her. “This has nothing to do with Logan. This is about you and me.” Tears fell from her eyes, scared she was losing him.

He grabbed her by the forearms suddenly, pulling her towards him. “No, it’s not Anna! I’m trying so hard, so hard to be the good one here, but everything inside me wants to throw you across this table and make love to you. For two years I waited, waited for you to let me in, to show you just how much I love you. And in an instant, I see you go up in flames. For him!”

Anna was crying openly now. “You don’t understand, Scott! It’s not that simple!”

“Oh really?” he snapped, shaking her roughly. “Are you going to tell me that you don’t want him, in your bed, inside of you?”

Sobbing, she desperately told him, “Please, Scott. It’s not what you think!”

The pheromones he was giving off were powerful. Anna closed her eyes and her body went lax in his arms, submissive and pliant. She would give him what he wanted. His hold on her increased painfully, and she could feel his breath, hot on her face. She opened her eyes, bright with resolve. “I’ll do anything for you, Scott. Anything.” And she meant it.

His desire blinded eyes poured over the beautiful woman in his arms. The body he dreamed of making love to so many times, night after night, for so long, was finally there for his taking. With a strangled sob, he pushed her away.

“No, Anna. I can have you physically for the rest of our lives, but you will always want him.”

Anna felt dizzy. The room spun around her and she stumbled into the nearest chair, staring down at her lap. “You don’t know what I want.” She said this more to herself, but Scott heard her.

“You don’t know what you want, Anna. You’re confused.” He sounded impatient, aggravated.

“I’m confused?” she echoed, incredulous. She wiped the tears from her face with shaking hands. “Is that what you think?” With a steadying breath, she stood up to her full height, giving her temporary strength. “Well then, Mr. Summers, it appears that you have made my choice for me. I don’t recall being asked for my opinion, but clearly that’s irrelevant since you obviously know what’s best for me.”

“Stop it, Anna!” He yelled at her. “This isn’t my fault!”

They glared at each other, both angry and hurt. Moments passed and Anna could see that Scott wasn’t backing down. He made his decision. She knew him enough to know that there was nothing she could do to change his mind.

She reached for her handbag resting on the table, her vision blurred by tears. She touched the carelessly thrown jewelry box with her fingers, and bit back a sob, digging her nails painfully into her palm. She raised her eyes to him, a heavy sadness reflected in their green depths.

“I loved you, Scott.”

Anna walked away, out the glass front doors, into the night.

Anna stayed in town, checking into the main hotel. She called Kitty and told her what Scott had done and although it took some time, she managed to convince her furious friend that she was fine. She just needed to be alone.

Anna had her evening gown delivered to her room and spent the next day in the hotel’s spa. Being around people forced her to not think about the previous night’s events; the women in the spa keeping her distracted with their sycophantic fawning over her. She couldn’t disappoint the charity organizers by cancelling her appearance, despite her heart feeling like it was going to split in two. The show must go on, she thought to herself with a mirthless smile, hearing but not listening to the mindless prattle of the women around her.

Alone in her room, Anna stared at her reflection in the mirror. She should have known better. The Rogue will always be alone.

She slipped on a matte gold silk gown, held at each shoulder with delicate pearl clasps. It was completely bare to small of her back, wrapping around her hips and flowing down to the floor into a small train behind her. Her makeup was simple but exotic, playing up her feline features, her long hair swept up into a high placed ponytail, falling down in a thick rope against her exposed back. Matching gold stiletto strap sandals stretched her already long legs, one of which peaked through the daringly long slit at the gown’s side. The phone rang, informing her that her limousine was waiting downstairs.

She took one last look at her reflection. She was Anina again. She would escape her reality for one night.

The long black car pulled up to the Pearl River Conservatory entrance. Lights flashed and bulbs popped as she made her way up the red carpet, pausing to take pictures with fans and signing autographs. Smile in place, she made her way into the historic town building, nodding her head in acknowledgment at the smattering of applause she received when she entered the large windowed room.

Anna drank. She drank and drank, champagne flute after champagne flute emptying down her throat. Oliver Tremblant stayed close by, concerned by her behavior. Watching her laugh, he thought back to when he first laid eyes on Anna Marie D’Ancanto, or rather, when he first heard her, that fateful afternoon twenty years ago.

Anna Marie had been sitting on the highest branch of a magnolia tree in the center of the Linwood Academy front garden, surrounded by its white blooms. He was struck by how pretty she was and how young, hardly believing that the voice that drew him outside had originated from a child. She didn’t say a word to him when he instructed her to visit him in the music room, her huge green eyes looking at him, expressionless. He had walked away, disturbed by the strange girl. But when she showed up to his classroom and began to sing for him, Oliver Tremblant knew. The rain-soaked student, who had arrived alone in the middle of the night the week prior, was a child prodigy. The little girl who kept to herself, who never spoke unless spoken to, possessed the voice of an angel.

Under his tutelage she had flourished, amazing both staff and students alike with her vocal gift, but even with all the attention and acceptance she received, she continued to remain alone. During the time Anna Marie had been a student of the prestigious school - a full two years - her parents had never come to visit her. Not once. She never went home for the holidays, never received anything from home; no letters, no gifts, nothing. It was as though she was an orphan. And then, one day, she had vanished.

It haunted him for years afterwards. When Anna Marie didn’t show up to class one morning, Oliver contacted her parents himself after determining she was nowhere to be found on the academy grounds. Mrs. D’Ancanto had answered the phone and informed him that Anna Marie had returned home, unhappy with her experience at the boarding school, and that for the sake of the school’s reputation, she demanded no further contact was to be attempted to either her or her husband. The school dean refused to listen to his suspicions that something was wrong, and insisted he drop the matter, less he found himself unemployed. Unhappy, he reluctantly did.

Oliver became disillusioned and heartbroken. When Owen D’Ancanto had come looking for his daughter years later, the poor man had been devastated to learn that she had disappeared, unaware what his recently deceased wife had done. Oliver Tremblant blamed himself for the loss of little Anna Marie.

Then she reappeared, twelve years later, sitting in the dean’s office, looking for him. That had been the most shocking, and the most wonderful day of his life. They picked up where they had left off; her voice having matured, rich and full from powerful emotions that she was able to convey with incredible ease, desperate to prove to her dead father that she could be, would be, the very best.

And she was. Anina caressed her audiences intimately with her voice; immersing herself effortlessly into every single role she took on. She was Carmen; she was Madame Butterfly; she was Floria Tosca; she was Mimmi. Her passion on stage was unmatched, mercurial in her rise amongst the ranks of long established operatic stars, a sensation the world over. But yet, she continued to remain alone. Many, many men tried to capture her heart, but none had ever succeeded. The passion she emoted on stage was nowhere to be found in her real life, and the trail of heartbreak she left in her wake became well known, lending itself to her allure, to her fame. Until Scott Summers.

But where is he? Her dance card was filled and she twirled on the dance floor, clearly enjoying the attention she was receiving from the attractive men that flocked to her, her handsome boyfriend nowhere to be seen. Women surrounded Anina as well, thrilled feminine gasps peppering the air in reaction to her scandalous tales involving royalty and celebrities, the adoring crowd around her hanging on to her every word. Anina was the Belle of the Ball.

He frowned in concern when she swayed on her feet, smiling flirtatiously at the man who jostled against the others to win the prize of being the one to catch her in his arms. Glancing at his watch, he made his way over to her.

“Anina, don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

She laughed charmingly as she draped an elegant arm around her former manager shoulders, smiling at the group’s disappointed expressions when she walked away with him. “Oh Oliver, let loose. It’s a wonderful night! I see some interesting prospects for you, too.” She winked conspiratorially, accepting another flute of champagne from a passing waiter.

He couldn’t help but melt at the sight of her. Anna Marie D’Ancanto was by far, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Thank goodness he was gay, or he strongly suspected his heart would have been one of the many lost to her long ago. He continued to lead her away from the crowd, removing the glass from her hand and drinking its contents himself when she protested. “The night is coming to an end, and you’re up, Scrumptious.” She pouted, but followed him to the back of the room.

Anina stepped gracefully up onto the stage that was erected in front of a large bay of windows overlooking the extensive magnolia tree arboretum that stretched out for miles, right to the borders of the Willowbend Junior Academy of the Arts. The full moon could be seen through multistoried glass panes, and its glow cast downwards onto the gleaming grand piano Oliver now sat at. The crowd quieted in anticipation as she made her way to the centre of the stage, her solitary figure grabbing their attention.

Her elegant frame was backlit by the moonlight, the muted golden sheen of her gown reflecting softly against her skin. The richness of her dark hair was a sharp contrast against the white tendrils that shot through the rest of its waves that fell over her shoulder. Anina looked like a gilded goddess.

She closed her eyes and became very still. He was here.

The rich, masculine, full bodied aroma that could only be him wafted towards her, and this time, she didn’t fight the accompanying heartache that crashed over her. Marie was done with the masquerade.

The first chords of “Caruso” came from the piano, and she felt the haunting melody rise up inside of her. She felt herself be transported into the song, the crowd hushing themselves as she drew in a long breath, filling her lungs in preparation.



“Qui dove il mare luccica
e dove tira forte il vento,”


She was singing softly, eyes still closed.


“Su una vecchia terrazza
davanti al golfo di Sorriento.”


Then more strongly, she continued,


“Un uomo abbraccia una ragazza
dopo che aveva pianto,
Poi si schiarisce la voce
e ricomincia il canto.”


Here the crowd stopped breathing collectively. She drew in a soft breath that could be heard all the way to the back of the expansive room, and she sang,


“Te voglio bene assai
Ma tanto, ma tanto bene sai
E' una catena ormai
Che scioglie il sangue dint'e vene sai.”


Logan made his way slowly towards her, his eyes intent on the woman who stood on the stage. Her voice, her beautiful voice, had him gripped in its sirenal influence. It possessed him, passion and want infused in it, calling out to him.


“Vide le luci in mezzo al mare
penso alle notti la in America,”


Her eyes opened, and found his unerringly, despite the distance between them in the large room.


“Ma erano solo le lampare
e la bianca scia di un'elica.”


Her eyes were bright with tears. Logan pushed forward, listening to her, needing to get closer to her, as she continued,


“Senti il dolore nella musica
si alzo dal Pianoforte,
Ma quando vide la luna uscire da una nuvola,
Gli sembro piu dolce anche la morte.”


She drew in another quick breath, desperate to tell him,


“Guardo negli occhi la ragazza,
quegli occhi verdi come il mare,
Poi all'improvviso usci una lacrima
e lui credette di affogare.”


Tears swam in her eyes as she held the note hauntingly, collapsing almost into herself as she tore her eyes away from him. She drew in a haggard breath, not sure she could continue as the heartbreak, the crushing sorrow he caused her years ago, threatened to overtake her. But then she stood tall, and lifted her head, holding onto the strength given to her by the beautiful piano chords that ripped the chorus out of her, finding him again.


“Te voglio bene assai.
Ma tanto, ma tanto bene sai
E' una catena ormai
Che scioglie il sangue dint'e vene sai.”


She watched him, his form a dark shadow moving slowly behind the mesmerized crowd. His eyes glittered and an anger took hold of her, at what he did to her, and how it haunted her all those years while on stage, making her break from the melody briefly, drawing her eyes downward.


“La potenza della lirica,
dove ogni dramma, é un falso."


She refused to look at him, continuing,


“Che con un po' di trucco e con la mimica
puoi diventare un altro.”


The pain became unbearable and she wrapped her arms around her waist, taking in another broken breath, but determinedly sang,


“Cosi divento tutto piccolo
anche le notti la in America.”


Her voice broke, thick and tear stung,


“Ti volti e vedi la tua vita
come la scia di un'elica.”


The note hung suspended in the air, pure and clear. She braced herself against the piano beside her, and Logan willed her to look at him and she did, drawing in a sob before singing to him, only for him,


“Te voglio bene assai
Ma tanto, ma tanto bene sai
E' una catena ormai
Che scioglie il sangue dint'e vene sai.”


Her powerful voice exploded across the silent room and she turned to him fully, her love thrown viciously at him as she sang,


“Te voglio bene assai,
Ma tanto ma tanto bene sai…”


Tears streamed down her face, and she hung on to the note like she couldn’t, wouldn’t let it go.


“E' una catena ormai.”


She gasped back her tears, forcing herself to sing,


“Che scioglie il sangue …”


… and she ripped open her lungs one more time, singing softly,


“dint'e vene sai, dint’e vene sai.”



Her voice dissipated hauntingly as she emptied herself completely of air. It became eerily silent, Logan and Marie aware only of each other.

The room exploded around them in deafening applause. Marie felt herself embraced by Oliver, who was openly weeping and he was followed by others, the crowd rushing towards her.

“Oh Anna,” whispered Kitty, her face streaked with tears, humbled by Anna’s pain.

Bobby blinked rapidly, stunned quiet by Anna’s naked display of emotion. They had arrived just as she had begun to make her way to the stage, late, because Kitty insisted they attend the gala in support of their friend, refusing to leave the academy unless they all agreed. Scott and Logan had resisted, until she declared she would never forgive them for making her miss her one chance to see Anina perform live.

Kitty wiped her eyes, seeing Scott leave through the Conservatory front doors. She was tempted to go after him, but looked away with a determined frown. Witnessing Anna express her heartbreak over Logan was a deserving punishment for what he did to her last night. Kitty looked back towards the stage, but couldn’t see Anna anymore through the throng of people who had surrounded her.

Marie was finding it hard to breathe. She tried to smile her gratitude through her tears, but couldn’t find her voice. Oliver, seeing her distress, came to her rescue. “Thank you everyone, thank you. Please move back. Everyone move back, please.”

With the crowd effectively blocked by his body, Marie stepped down to the back of the stage, unable to stop crying. Pain was ripping through her, leaving her gasping and she made her way blindly out into the garden, pulling off her shoes and looping her fingers through the straps so she could escape into the night.

Marie was running.

She ran and ran, stopping only when she reached the fountain at the far end of the old estate, throwing herself on the ground and sobbing brokenly. She was splintering apart. All the ache, all the horrific pain of that night, came roaring back at her and it was consuming her, ripping away all her carefully made pretenses, perfectly created denials, that she had collected over the years. When he stepped into view, she held out her arm to stop him, using the other to cover her eyes so he wouldn’t see her tears.

“Please, Logan,” she begged, trying to stop crying, but finding she couldn’t. “You have to leave. Go away and never come back, because Ah can’t do this anymore. Ah can’t!” She buried her face into her arms, her shoulders shuddering from the force of her sobs, completely and utterly devastated.

In a flash, Logan pulled her off the ground, holding her weakened body easily against the hard wall of his chest, crushing her to him before his mouth slammed down on hers, hard and possessive. She tried to break free of his hold but he held on, his powerful arms tight around her.

Her body betrayed her, like it always did, to the feel of him. With a moan, she viciously tangled his hair with her fingers, and kissed him back, her kiss full of the pain, humiliation and heartache he caused her all those years ago. She kissed the mouth that she tasted every night in her dreams, tasted the poison that prevented her wanting the taste of another, with a desperation that stole his breath away.

Logan matched her kiss just as fiercely, filled with his own unrequited desire for the woman in his arms. Because he loved her, had always loved the young woman who claimed his heart the moment he promised to take care of her on that train, a lifetime ago. Tasting her again, touching her again; Logan knew he was lost in the paradise that was his Marie, and it was where he should have been, where he should have stayed.

His mouth moved to her throat, biting at the beating vein at its base before sliding over the curve of her neck to tell her roughly, “I’m sorry, Marie. I was wrong. I never should have let you go.” He pushed the silky material of her gown off her shoulder and kissed the bared skin tenderly; trailing wet kisses along her collarbone before returning back to her lips. “I missed ya, darlin’. So much that I forgot how to live.”

Marie was drowning, drowning from the feel of his lips, in the hurricane that was her Logan. His kisses robbed her of breath; the feel of his warm hands on her bare back robbing her of thought. She was only aware of the beautiful, powerful man who was holding her, telling her that he missed her, and that he was sorry for letting her go.

Logan was sorry.

Marie pushed him away. Her eyes narrowed and a growing fire began deep inside her.

“You’re sorry?”

Logan grabbed her back into his arms, determined to keep her there. “Don’t, Marie.”

She tried to break free of him, tried to shut out his words. “Don’t what, Logan? Don’t tell you that it’s too late? Don’t tell you that too much has happened, that you absolutely destroyed me? Don’t tell you that you don’t get to say sorry, and expect to be accepted back in my life? Because that’s not how it works, you bastard!” Her fists pounded on his chest and shoulders, her fury taking hold of her. “You completely ripped me apart! Ah didn’t know how to put myself back together again, Ah couldn't find all the pieces, and now, Ah don’t know who Ah am anymore. And it’s your fault, all your fault!”

Logan winced, but held her tight, refusing to let go. “I know Marie, I know. But I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll do whatever it takes, darlin’. I am so sorry for what I did to you.”

She began to shake, and memories began to rush forward:


She remembered when she first saw him in the fighting cage, almost shot by the bar owner, screaming out to save his life,

No. You didn’t


She remembered how he tried to grab her hands, to warm up by his truck’s heater vent,

What kind of name is Rogue?


She remembered when he found her in the train, promising to take care of her,

Yeah kid, I promise


She remembered his prone form, wounded and bleeding on the Statue of Liberty after saving her life,

Come back Marie, come back


She remembered him giving her his dog tags for safe keeping the first time he left,

I’ll be back for these


She remembered him comforting her when his nightmares invaded her sleep,

Scooch over kid, I’m stayin’


She remembered his grief over the beautiful Jean Grey, not once but twice, rejecting her attempts to comfort him,

I’m fine kid


She remembered how mean he was to her when she fought alongside him on missions,

Yer too cocky, Rogue


She remembered his tenderness when she retreated into herself when her father came for her,

I’m here Marie, I’m here


She remembered his jealousy when Remy kissed her,

He’s not right for you, Marie


She remembered him touching her,

Tell me you like this


Pleasuring her,

You want only my touch


Tasting her,

I need you, I need you


Begging him, asking for just one night, one night with him,

No


And she remembered him walking away.



Coldness flooded through her, strong and encompassing.

“No,” she whispered.

Logan stared at her, his body tense, his breathing harsh.

“No,” she repeated. She looked into his eyes, her own frosting over.

A shadow fell across his face. “You want me, Marie.”

“Yes,” she admitted, the coldness in her eyes now in her voice. “Ah want you, Logan. Ah never stopped wanting you. But you taught me how to live without you.”

Growling, he pushed her up against the back wall of the garden, pinning her with his body. “I won’t let you, Marie. You belong with me!” He roared the words, his hold on her upper arms tightening painfully before he was able to calm down. His eyes were pleading now, begging her to listen to him.

“Please understand, Marie. I thought I was protecting you. I thought you would be safer, away from me. I thought I was doing the right thing, darlin’.”

Ice gave way to fire in her eyes. She pressed herself against him, feeling him hard and big against her thigh. She looked at his lips, and licked her own, leaving them wet and glistening. “Instead of being deep in thought all these years, sugah,” she told him huskily, her voice a sexy rasp, “You could have been deep, deep inside of me.”

He sucked in his breath. With a tortured groan, he lowered his mouth to capture hers again, but she turned away, cold once more.

“Let me go.” She kept her face averted from him, her voice emotionless.

“No.”

“Ah will never forgive you.”

“NO!”

His mouth came down hard on hers, punishing and cruel. She could taste blood from where her lip split from the violent contact, copper and metallic. She knew the Wolverine was threatening to take over, but she was much more afraid of the feral deep inside her that was shrieking for its mate. She could feel it scraping viciously forward, stronger than it had ever been before.

She needed to get away.

His head snapped back as she drew out his strength, keeping her mouth on his. Terrible convulsions grabbed hold of him, blackened veins streaking across his face and body as he tried to break free, but she didn’t let go, opening up her mutation completely. Crying, she stepped away from him and he fell to his knees, gasping for air. She clutched at her head as he howled in her mind, demanding that she stay with him and she screamed, stumbling away, unprepared for how powerful the Wolverine would be in her mind. This time she obeyed her instincts and took off at a dead run.

“Marie!” Logan bellowed after her, forcing himself back onto his feet. His head felt like it would explode from the pain to stay conscious, but he had to stop her.

Logan obeyed his own instincts. Mine. The Wolverine lunged forward, snarling.

Hearing him, she ran faster. Marie ran towards the front entrance of the Conservatory where she caught the familiar form of the X-Men leader, about to get into her Maserati.

“Scott!”

Startled, he spun around to see her emerge from the back garden. “Please help me, Scott.” She fell into him, pressing her forehead against his chest, breathing hard and crying softly. “Please, take me home.”

Holding her close, he opened the passenger side door of the vehicle and placed her gently inside. When he sat down and closed the driver’s side door behind him, she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. Kissed him as though she was starving, whimpering when the Wolverine in her mind roared in fury.

The real Wolverine staggered out from the garden, and seeing Marie in Scott’s arms, a murderous rage came over him. His claws shot out, but a wave of dizziness caused him to waver. Bobby caught him before he fell to the ground, both men falling to their knees from the tremendous weight of his adamantium frame. He felt someone touch his shoulder and he struggled to focus on Kitty’s concerned face, fighting the unconsciousness that threatened to overcome him.

“Let her go, Logan. If Scott is who she wants, you need to accept it,” she told him gently. The convertible tore out of the parking lot into the night, its red tail lights bright and retreating against the darkness.

He growled, the sound ferocious and savage. He stepped away from Kitty and Bobby, whose arm iced over protectively in front of his wife. Staring after the disappearing vehicle, his eyes darkened completely into solid black discs.

“Never.”

He turned his back to them and leapt into the shadows. The Wolverine was in control now.

Anna watched the countryside fly by as Scott expertly tore down the country roads back to Willowbend. He was quiet; his hands busy with the stick shift and steering wheel as the high performance vehicle took sharp turns and rode the low hills of the Mississippi bayou. She continued to battle the Wolverine in her mind, who was ferociously resisting her attempts to control him. With a painful gasp, she managed to cage him into the box that had contained the older Logan, and they both melded into one, their furious roars reverberating through her mind in defeat.

But the Wolverine’s harsh sexual desire still raced through her body.

Scott resisted the urge to pull over and take her into his arms when Anna began to kiss his neck, rubbing up against him, her hand between his legs. She was intoxicating, her body so hot he could still feel its heat through their clothes.

Scott was done being the gentleman.

Tires squealing, he pulled into the academy’s driveway and jumped out of the car. He picked Anna up in his arms and carried her swiftly through the front door where he found Nanna waiting in the foyer.

“You leave that girl with me, Mr. Summers! You’ve done enough!” Kitty had made her aware of Scott’s actions the night before. Scott didn’t break his stride, brushing past the old woman and holding Anna against his chest as he took the stairs two at a time.

“No offense ma’am, but back off.”

He kicked his bedroom door closed behind him. Scott threw her on the bed, and captured her lips with his and she sat up, returning his kiss as deeply and as passionately as him. Anna pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and when he shifted to remove it himself, she tugged at his shirt instead, freeing it from the waistband of his pants. Their kiss grew feverish and hungry and as Scott began to unbutton his shirt, Anna impatiently tore the fine material apart, its buttons clattering to the floor beside the bed.

She fastened her mouth to his exposed throat, and bit him, causing him to hiss in pain. That only fueled her more and she licked the wound, the faint metallic taste of his blood fulfilling some deep need inside her. She sat up and kissed him deeply again, straddling herself on either side of him, pressing herself against him.

Moaning, Scott caught her face in his hands and plunged his tongue into her hot, moist mouth. She grabbed at his hair, letting the feral in her take over and she was on fire. She smiled in satisfaction as his hands pulled her gown down from her shoulders, baring her to his ravenous eyes.

Scott took her breasts into the palms of his hands, squeezing the firm but soft mounds, weighing them, relishing the creamy smoothness of the skin that he dreamed of touching for so long. With a groan, he took a pink nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly, catching the hardened peak between his teeth. Anna threw her head back, gasping his name in surprise at his bite and he swirled his tongue around the other nipple, sucking harder than the first. She writhed against him in retaliation and Scott broke his hold, shuddering in pleasure as her body rocked even more intimately on top of him.

Her hand reached down and squeezed him through the material of his pants, causing Scott to buck, his hips lifting her. Anna pushed him down onto the bed and continued to grind her pelvis against him, her breathing harsh and primal, her low purr turning into a growl. Scott stared at the beautiful woman on top of him, half dressed and glowing from the light that poured into the room from the windows, his for the taking. He grabbed her hips, powerfully thrusting upwards and she threw back her head, growling louder in pleasure.

Sliding his hands along her sides, her waist encircled by his hands, he whispered, “Marry me, Anna.”

She stopped moving, but just for a moment. She lay down on him and took his earlobe in her mouth. “Hush, Scott. Focus.” She traced the curve of his ear with the point of her tongue and blew softly, grinning when he shivered in response.

Scott ran his hands along her back, her breasts pressed against his chest playing havoc with his mind. “Then say yes, sweetheart. Say you’ll marry me.”

Anna ignored him, placing small kisses along his neck and across his muscled shoulder. She shifted to accommodate his growing hardness between her legs, scraping her nails along his arms. “I’m going to make you scream, Scott,” she snarled, biting his nipple lightly, and then blowing on it, taking in the rash of goose-bumps that appeared on his skin.

With a strangled sound escaping his throat, he sat up. “Say you’ll marry me, Anna,” he demanded, groaning again when she continued to rub against him.

She wouldn’t look into his eyes, knowing hers were diamonded by borrowed feral lust. Instead, she fastened them on his swollen lips, picturing what she was going to have him do with them. “Kiss me, Scott,” she instructed him, reaching down again between them and pulling down his zipper. Scott gasped at her touch, her hand sliding along his length through his boxers. He held her face tightly when she moved to kiss him again.

“Marry me.” He frowned when she refused to meet his searching gaze.

“Stop talking.” She stroked him again and he bit his lip. Her smile widened at his reaction. “Now, where were we?”

Scott didn’t move. Anna frowned in annoyance.

“God damn it, Scott, is this going to happen or not?” Her frustration was clear. He released his hold on her and supported himself by placing his arms straight out behind him, hands splayed on the bed.

“It depends, Anna,” he told her in a taut voice, “Are you going to marry me, or not?” She sat back and pulled her gown back over her shoulders. She lifted a leg to get off him but he clamped a strong hand on her thigh, preventing her.

“Anna, what’s going on here?”

She dipped her finger into her mouth, pulling it out slowly and trailing it across his chest, down to his waist where it disappeared under his boxers. “I’m trying to fuck you, Scott Summers.” She was pleased that her fingers weren’t able to ring completely around him.

Between the feel of her hand around him and her choice of words, Scott found it hard to speak with his suddenly dry mouth. Her eyes flared in victory and she bent down to kiss him. He moved his face just as she was about to.

Anna jumped off the bed quicker than he could reach for her. She shook off his attempts to hold her. “Just leave me alone!” she bit at him, storming across the room to leave. But Scott was much larger and simply blocked the door with his body.

“Anna, I want to marry you.”

She spun away from him. He stood by the door, watching her. He could hear her struggle to get her breathing under control, curling and uncurling her fingers as through releasing tension there.

“Why, Scott?” he heard her finally ask, turning to look back at him. “Why now?”

He began to walk towards her, but she stepped back, shaking her head. “Why?” she demanded more strongly, tears shimmering in her bright green eyes.

“Because I love you, Anna,” he answered her softly, arms by his sides.

She laughed, but the sound rang hollow. “You love me? Well, that’s a revelation. You told me that last night, but you didn’t ask me to marry you then. Try again.”

“I was wrong, Anna. The wrong decision was made because we failed to communicate with each other.”

Her face reflected her disbelief. “You’re the one who failed to communicate with me. I had no say in your decision to leave me. I didn’t stand a chance.”

She saw the muscles across his shoulders flex. “Anna, you’re upset. We need to talk about this rationally.” He sounded calm, and in control. Everything she knew him to be; and everything she knew she wasn’t. They stood there, only feet apart, but to her, it might as well have been worlds.

“You promised.” Her voice was hoarse, full of disappointment and betrayal.

His face showed his confusion. She spun away from him, rubbing her arms, suddenly very cold. A tear managed to escape her eye, but she wiped it away quickly. “You promised me, Scott,” she clarified. “You promised you would never hurt me. And I believed you.”

In one long stride, he swept her into his arms. “No, Anna,” he insisted desperately, “It’s not like that.”

Her body was unyielding, and she looked away. “Yes, it is Scott. You promised, and you lied.”

Scott tucked a finger under her chin and raised her face so he could catch her eyes with his. “There was unfinished business between you and Logan. You needed to deal with it.”

She blinked back her tears. “You’re the one who needed to deal with it, not me. I’ve done nothing to make you jealous. I’ve done everything in my power to convince you that I loved you.”

“Except make love to me.”

She had no response for that. It was true. She listened to the rapid beating of his heart for a few moments, before she asked him, “Why didn’t you tell me Remy was back?”

There it was. The shift in his scent, letting her know that not telling her was intentional. “Does it matter to you that he is, Anna?” His jealousy was thick, ugly. “Do I need to worry about every man that has ever loved you?”

“That’s not fair, Scott. I should have been the only person you needed to worry about. Nobody else was supposed to matter, it should have been just you, and me.”

“How can you expect me to pretend that I don’t see the way Logan looks at you?” he asked her, steel entering his voice.

She looked at him sharply, her eyes accusing. “You did with Jean.”

She felt the shock ripple through him at the sound of his dead fiancée’s name. Scott swallowed hard. “Jean made her choice.”

“Yes, she did. You let her make it,” she pointed out to him bitterly. She tried to pull away, but his arms were like a vise.

He looked intently at her, his heart pounding harder and faster now. “Jean chose me, Anna. Not him.”

“I chose you too, Scott.” Her eyes showed all the pain he caused her. “But unlike Jean, you didn’t trust me, even after I tried so hard to be like her.” She pulled away and he let her go, stunned by her words. “I wanted tonight to happen so badly, Scott. And you took that choice away from me as well.” She stepped around him and left the room, closing the door behind her.

The sound of a crystal decanter shattering against a wall followed her down the empty hallway.


*****


It felt like forever before Logan could make out the outline of the academy dormitories in the distance. He ran steadily, taking an unbeaten path that led directly back to Willowbend, avoiding the road which was almost three times the distance with its bends and twists through the swampy bayou.

Logan went to her cottage first, but even before reaching it he knew she wasn’t there. Her scent was even fainter that it had been earlier in the day when she had remained in town after her dinner with Scott the night before. Sprinting through the back garden and courtyard, he was about to enter the back door when he caught Scott’s scent around front. Without pausing, he tore off in his direction.

Scott was loading the back of the vehicle that Logan had driven down in from New York. He was reaching for the last bag on the front porch when Logan appeared, his claws extended and glinting in the moonlight.

“Where is she?” Logan’s voice was barely more than a snarl.

Scott placed his hand threateningly on the side of his visor at the sight of the other man. “Don’t come any closer, Logan. I swear I will blast you in half.”

Wolverine grinned, his bared teeth white against the dark expression on his face. “Get to it pretty boy, because I’m gonna be more than just closer in a second.”

“Don’t you two dare!”

Both men turned to see the elderly black woman storm down the porch steps. “Ah won’t be having Anna Marie’s house torn apart by you two damn fools!” she declared, stepping in between them. Hands on hips, Nanna took turns glowering at them. “Ah don’t know what is going on between you two boys, and Ah don’t know if it has to do with my girl, but Ah’ve had enough. Anna Marie has been through enough heartache in her lifetime so y’all just stop this, right here, right now. You hear me?”

Tense moments passed. Both men glared at each other. There was so much history between them, so much each man could accuse the other of, but the silence stretched too long and nothing was said at all.

Scott dropped his hand. Threat gone, Logan followed suit and sheathed his claws. Satisfied, Nanna stormed up the stairs and disappeared back into the house.

“She’s inside,” Scott told him coldly. He grabbed the last bag and threw it in the trunk, slamming it shut forcefully. His face was a mask of barely controlled anger and pain. “You don’t deserve her.”

Logan kept his eyes steady on the taller man. “I know. But I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to.”

Scott uncurled his fists. He entered the vehicle and drove away, dust clouds rising up behind him into the night sky.

Her scent was easy to detect. He stepped through the front entrance, and followed it up the wide staircase. He frowned – a trace of it would have led him to Scott’s room if not for the stronger, newer scent that went down the opposite hallway, leading directly to his room.

Logan stood in front of the doors, hesitant, afraid. Everything that mattered in his world was on the other side. He had to fix this. He had to fix her. Logan knew he fucked up, fucked up real bad. For all his promises to protect her, he had failed, again, and again, damaging the one thing in his life that had been perfect and pure. Knowing that she would never love him again was ripping him apart, but he could never stop loving her. He was prepared to accept whatever meager scraps she might be willing to throw him so he could stay in her life, be near her. He wouldn’t run away. Not anymore.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened the doors to his future.

She was curled up in the arm chair beside the bed, head resting on her arm, feet tucked underneath her. Her face was tear-streaked and sad, even in her sleep. His heart twisted. He took off his shoes; the blisters caused by his run healed over, and tore off his bloodied socks before pulling out the belt from the waist of his black trousers. He removed his jacket, and loosened his tie, throwing them both onto the dresser at the far side of the room. He had just removed the cufflinks from his dress shirt when she shifted in the chair, at first trying to get more comfortable, but then waking completely when she realized he was there.

“Hi darlin’.” He approached her and bent his knees so he was squatting directly in front of her.

She blinked a few times, frowned, then sat up, legs still underneath her. She remained silent and simply looked at him. He tilted his head, watching emotions chase themselves across her face, placing his hands on either side of the chair. She looked towards the French doors, with a faraway look in her shimmering green eyes, shoulders straight and head held high. Her body was tense, still dressed in her gold gown, her hair pulled tightly away from her face in that high ponytail. Logan bit down the growl that began to form in his throat, smelling Scott all over her, but he didn’t make a sound, waiting.

He listened to the frantic beating of her heart, the irregular pattern of her breathing, her throat working, coiled tight to hold back the sob he knew was there. He waited. Her chin trembled and the liquid sheen in her eyes transformed into tears that fell along a previously established path down her cheeks. She gasped out the sob that successfully fought its way out of her, taking with it the air that kept her upright. She collapsed against him, resting her head on his shoulder as her arms snaked around his neck, crying softly.

He closed his eyes, and pulled her completely onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her small frame, holding her tight when she buried her nose into the valley where his neck and shoulder met, her body convulsing from the strength of her sobs. He swallowed hard, resting his chin on the top of her head, his shirt soaked through by her tears. Marie needed him, she needed the friend he used to be, and he would be that again. For her.

“You hurt me, Logan. You hurt me somethin’ fierce.”

He flinched, the rawness of her pain slicing through him. He caressed her back comfortingly, and drew in a deep breath, both of them rising as his chest expanded from his air-filled lungs. His voice was thick with self-condemnation. “Tell me what you need, Marie. Tell me and it’s as good as done.”

She took a few moments, soothed by the familiar feel of his strong arms holding her so close against him, the thick muscles of his thighs easily supporting her weight, rock solid beneath her. She pulled away and stood up in one fluid movement, looking piercingly into his eyes. He kept them on her as he stood up as well, towering over her, afraid now, afraid she was going to send him away.

“Ah need to finish what we started, Logan.”

His nostrils flared. Scott’s scent on her was the strongest it’s ever been, but Logan refused to give into the Wolverine who demanded that he replace it with his own. Looking down at her, Logan knew he should insist she go back to sleep, that she needed the clear light of day to bring the night’s events into focus. But that look on her face, whatever it was, told him to keep the words unspoken. She wanted this. And god help him, Logan was going to give Marie exactly what she wanted.

Keeping his eyes on hers, he reached up and unclasped the golden band that trapped her hair high atop her head. Almost with a sigh, the strands fell down, over her shoulders and down her back, like a dark pool of silk into his hands. He ran his fingers through her long hair, the scent of peaches filling the air from its release. His hands untied the band that held the gown tight across her hips before slipping his fingers underneath the twin swaths of material that covered her chest. Slowly, his fingers slid upwards, touching her stomach and ribcage lightly, and she held her breath as they feathered along the sides of her breasts, stopping at her collarbone.

His eyes trapped hers as he hooked his thumbs under the pearl clasps, sliding them off her shoulders and down her arms, the pads of his fingers tips soft against the surface of her skin. With a sharp tug, the gown fell to the ground at her feet and she closed her eyes, her almost nude body igniting as the cool air of the room bathed over her.

Logan cupped her face into his hands and kissed her forehead where her platinum streak began. She felt his breath move across her face as he kissed her eyebrows and eyelids, softly and lingeringly, hearing the rush of blood flowing through his veins - pushing, retreating - with every beat of his strong heart. He kissed her cheekbones, nose, jaw and chin, his eyes pouring over her face, watching her, alert to her cues, prepared to stop, praying she wouldn’t ask him to. Encouraged by her continued silence, he bent his head and left a trail of kisses along her neck to her shoulder, retracing it across to her other shoulder, unrushed and savoring the creamy taste of her. He curled his fingers around her wrists and placed them on his shoulders, kissing the entire length of her arms, reclaiming her mouth instantly with his when she curled her fingers into his hair to press her lips against his.

He knelt before her, his hands sliding down her back, kissing her ribcage and opening his mouth wider; biting into the dip of her waist, making her gasp from the erotic jolt of pleasure it gave her. He kissed the soft swell of her stomach and dipped his tongue into the indent of her belly button before licking upwards between her breasts to her throat, standing tall in front of her again.

“Look at me, Marie.” Her eyelids fluttered open at his whispered command. He placed her hand over his heart and held her close, the feel of his starched shirt and its buttons pressing into her sensitive skin. Their hearts began to beat together in tandem and their eyes locked, listening to the familiar sound.

One of them, maybe both of them, kissed the other, their kiss tender, gentle, and explorative, every crevice rediscovered, their tongues dancing with a generous give and take. When they came up for air, Logan grabbed handfuls of her hair, nuzzling his face into it, relishing its silky softness, knowing he could never, ever, get enough of his Marie. She ran her fingers up his chest and began to unbutton his shirt, one by one, and he waited until she was done, continuing to breathe in the scent of her glorious hair, holding back, not wanting to make a mistake, needing to show her that she was in control.

She peeled the shirt off his body, dropping it on the floor beside them, caressing every curve and muscle she exposed. Every part of him was the same, every line, every dip and curve of his powerful chest and shoulders and arms, his waist still as narrow, his flat stomach as taut as she remembered. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her small soft hands running over his skin, denying the Wolverine hollering deep within him that he take her. Tonight was about what Marie wanted. It was the only thing that mattered.

He grabbed her hips and spun her around, his hands reaching up to cup her breasts. She melted against him as his thumbs grazed over their puckered tips, throwing her head back against his corded shoulder, her hands resting on his forearms. He kissed the back of her neck, licking across the soft angles of her shoulder blades and down her spine, ignoring the feral in him becoming louder, more insistent, smelling her sweet, delicious aroma. His hands slid over the soft swells of her bottom, down the back of her thighs, to behind her knees and calves, kissing the curve of her hips and flattening his tongue into the indents he found there. She pulled him up, unable to stand under her own power any longer, so he stood up and wrapped her long legs around his waist, his hands roaming over her before curling into her hair at the base of her skull to bring her panting mouth back to his.

He walked over to the bed, not breaking her kiss, receptive as she moved her luscious lips over his, her tongue darting out to lick his before dipping deep into his hot mouth. He laid her down on the bed and waited for her to come up for air before moving his mouth back down her body, his hands running down her outer legs as she spread them apart to hold him in place between them. He held each breast gently in his hands, slanting his mouth over them, leaving no part of them un-tasted, sucking and biting, rolling their tightened peaks in between his teeth, her moans and gasps sweet sounds of reward to his ears.

His mouth released a reddened nipple and he raised himself up to look at her, half convinced this was another one of his fantasies of making love to his beautiful Marie. Seeing her lying beneath him, her hair splayed out about her golden skin like an earthbound Venus made Logan’s heart skip a beat and he stared at her, amazed.

The look on his face, so tender and full of wonder made tears well up in Marie’s eyes. His finger caught the first tear, then rubbed away another, a small frown pulling down his lips. His eyes followed the last escaped tear, and just as it was about to disappear across her temple into her hair, he caught it with his lips, whispering in her ear, “I love you, Anna Marie D’Ancanto.”

Her brilliant emerald eyes shot to his blazing hazel and his love for her crashed through him with an incredible force. “I always have darlin’,” he told her simply. “I always will. Forever.”

A torrent of tears slipped silently down her cheeks at his admission and he kissed them all away, the salty taste of them burning his lips. He hugged her tight against him, wishing for the millionth time that he could go back in time and erase all the pain he caused her, knowing he could never make it up to her, but determined to try anyway.

She kissed him again but Logan took control of this kiss, and she allowed him, succumbing to his strength and experience. She pulled his pants down over his hips and he kicked free of them, followed by his boxers. He reached down between her legs, under the silk band of her panties, delving his finger into the hot, moist core of her. She moved underneath him, sucking in his breath with her sharply indrawn gasp at the intimate contact. Logan needed more, his entire body was wound tight from the strain of rejecting the feral within him, but he still managed to hold back, swirling his fingers around the swollen nub he found there, pulling, pinching, pressing, until she was trembling beneath him.

He ripped away the flimsy material of her panties and lifted his hips to resettle between her legs, hard and throbbing against her, bearing his weight on the forearms he placed either side of her face. Logan caught her spike of fear and asked if she was sure; if she wanted this, wanted him. She whispered into his ear that she was sure, that she did want this, and him, very, very much. She closed her eyes when she felt him position himself above her, and braced herself.

“No.”

Her body stiffened and he was quick to assuage her terror. “I need you to see me when I’m inside you, Marie. I need you to see only me.” Scott’s scent was still there, on his Marie, a penance he knew he deserved, but he needed for her witness their first time, needed for her to know that it was him that was loving her, and not the others before him.

She spread her legs wider in response, keeping her eyes on him, biting her lower lip when he began to slip into her. Her breathing became shallow; her entire body trembling uncontrollably, feeling the sheer size of him begin to enter her. A growl finally tore from Logan’s throat, every sense alert to the submissive female beneath him and digging his hands underneath her, he pressed the small of her back upwards as he drove powerfully into her.

Intense pain shot through her, sharp and stunning, and she instinctively pushed at his shoulders to escape his deep impalement of her. Logan stilled with shock.

Marie was a virgin.

She buried her face into his neck, her fresh tears hot and wet against his scorching skin. He kissed her forehead, cursing himself, her once pliant body now tense beneath him. His face tightened with remorse, angry with himself for causing her pain, searching her eyes for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. I didn’t know, and I hurt you.”

“Yours,” she whispered, interrupting his apology, wiping away her tears as she lost herself in the warm sunset of his eyes.

Logan was a simple man. Always considered what was his, to be his. But something he never experienced before grabbed a hold deep inside of him, and it washed over him, wiping away everything in its path, taking with it all the suffering, guilt, fear and loneliness that had shackled him his whole life. The unexpected absolution made his throat constrict painfully.

“No, Marie,” he corrected her, his voice rough with emotion, overwhelmed by the truth. “I’m yours. I belong to you.”

She tenderly kissed his eyelashes, seeing the moisture of his unshed tears shimmering there. When he opened his eyes, he saw the forgiveness in hers.

She had accessed his memories. She knew everything.

Marie touched her forehead to his, and rested her hand lightly on his chest overtop where his heart lay. She placed her other hand over hers, softly confessing, “Ah love you, James Logan Howlett. Ah always have, sugah. Ah always will. Forever.”

Logan choked back a sob, kissing her, inhaling her, tasting and breathing in the very essence of her. He hadn’t lost her. He hadn’t lost his precious Marie.

The pain was beginning to subside, her healing factor thankfully kicking in as she accommodated the size of him, big and hard inside her. She shifted and he groaned when she thrust her hips upward tentatively, a growing, unfamiliar primal need beginning to well up inside of her. He could smell the metallic tint of her blood and his face reflected his concern.

“Darlin’, I don’t know how hurt you are.”

Tilting her hips again, she determined that the movement felt, very, very good. She admitted to him with a shy smile, “Ah’m not hurting now, Logan.”

Whatever else she wanted to say was forgotten when he pulled out and eased back into her experimentally. “Oh my god,” she gasped, grabbing his shoulders and digging in her nails. “That feels amazing!”

Logan grinned and moved again, slipping almost completely out of her before easing himself fully back in, slowly, so that she could become accustomed to his size. He sucked in his breath at the feel of her, so wet, and hot and so very, very tight. He reveled in the smell of her virginal blood and he reached down to smear it over her belly, the Wolverine growling in approval at the sight of the scarlet slashes against her abdomen.

His fingers took hold of her again, his fingers tracing and pressing small, slow circles against the tiny engorged bud of flesh, as he repeatedly buried himself deep inside her.

Marie began to breathe heavily. The combination of him inside her, stretching and filling her while his nimble fingers manipulated her, was driving her wild. Logan was trying to hold back, intent on being gentle to make up for hurting her, but she clenched around him in frustration, milking him each time he withdrew, making him shudder from the torturous restraint.

She nipped his lips with her own, breathing in his moans, before whimpering into his mouth, “Logan, Ah don’t know exactly how this works, but goddamn it sugah, you better put out this fire in me awful quick.”

The Wolverine took over.

Holding her behind her knees, he began slamming into her, his hips rocking powerfully against her. She called out to him, begging him to not stop, not really knowing why and when she began to shake, Logan pumped into her even faster, his breath hot in her ear, encouraging her, telling her how sexy and beautiful she was, how much he loved her, how good she made him feel. Taking in the gorgeous sight of her trembling body as he pounded into her, he demanded gruffly, “Say my name, darlin’. Say my name.”

She stabbed her nails deep into his back as ecstasy took a hold of her entire being, screaming his name, sobbing it, as she clung to him, sure that her body was exploding into a million sparks. Exquisite pleasure crashed over her, her limbs heavy as her blood thickened and flowed languidly through her veins as wave, after acutely enjoyable wave, crashed over her, leaving her weak and spent in the protective circle of her lover’s embrace.

Logan grabbed her hair and exposed her throat, breaking the delicate skin with his canines, sinking his teeth into her as his powerful body shook violently with his own release. He crushed her to him, every muscle straining as she claimed him, and he roared; his lips curling back to expose red stained teeth. She kissed him, tasting her blood in his mouth, and she purred, letting him know that she liked it, shivering when his hands caressed her now overly sensitive skin.

He was careful not to crush her under his weight, breathing through the delicious aftershocks that rolled over him, knowing with grateful clarity, that this was what happiness felt like.

“Yours,” Logan reminded her, nuzzling her ear with his nose.

Smiling, Marie scraped his mutton chops gently with her nails. “Mine.”

And they spent the rest of the night, proving it.

“What have you done?”

The question hung in the air, full of whispered horror. The woman pressed a hand against her cheek, stemming the flow of blood from the deep cut the furious woman's stinging blow had caused her.

“Do you know what I did to her?” Her body shook, images racing through her mind, attaching themselves to emotions, sickening her. “I almost killed her!”

“Now, now, no need for hysterics,” said a cultured, masculine voice behind her. The tall man bent down to caress the hair of the woman at her feet, the short black strands falling back from the now bruised face. She watched with disgust when the woman both flinched and leaned into his touch, and he smiled, clearly pleased with her reaction.

She fought the nausea that soured her mouth. “You should have told me,” she spat at him. She returned her contemptuous gaze to the cowering younger woman, disgusted further by the adoring expression on her face when she wrapped her arms around his leather-clad leg. “I would never have agreed to our deal if I had known what this creature had done to me.”

He shrugged, his smile turning mocking as he stood to his full height. His fingers continued to run along the brunette’s hair, sliding softly overtop its sleek lines. “It’s of no consequence. I found this creature, as you so lovingly refer to her, extremely anxious to find you so she could rectify what she has done. I have delivered my part of the bargain by bringing her to you. It’s your turn now.”

“Pick someone else.”

His eyes narrowed. “He won’t like that.”

“I don’t care. Pick someone else, or the deal is off.”

He appeared calm, but she knew differently, noting how the muscles on his forearms twitched with restraint. “Outside of the telepath, she is the best candidate to provide my employer with the information he seeks,” he told her, as though bored. “You can have her back afterwards,” he continued, his voice becoming soothing, hypnotic. “We can achieve both our goals without disturbing a single hair on her pretty little head.”

She hissed, baring her fanglike teeth. “Unlike this lapdog, your pheromones are useless on me. The deal is off. I’m getting her myself.”

He laughed, crossing his arms over his heavily muscled chest. “That should go over well. And how do you intend on keeping her with you when you do?”

“I will tell her the truth.”

His laughter deepened. “Oh yes. The truth shall set you free, and all that, I take it? I am sure she will believe every word that comes from you.”

The wounded woman began to weep. “I’m sorry.”

The softly spoken amends was so ridiculously insufficient in relation to the enormity of what she had done, that her assaulter could only pull her head back sharply, as though hit.

“It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this,” she tried to explain to her former guardian, desperation in her voice. “She told me…” The man moved quickly to stand in front of the apologist, cutting off her words with a vicious tug on her hair, recognizing that the other woman’s fury had grown murderous.

“You mustn’t kill her, my dear. If you hope to reconcile with your little nightingale, you will need her help, and mine.” His eyes took on an appreciative gleam, the scent of the angry woman’s growing hatred intensely arousing to him. “I must say, I am disappointed. Where is my reward for orchestrating her return to you, my beauty?” he asked, licking the corner of his mouth, stepping close to her. “A show of gratitude is in order, I should think.”

She sneered. “My gratitude is reserved for things that are appreciated, boy.” She emphasized the last word, rejecting his advances. “You have done me no favor.”

He pretended to experience pain, placing a hand over his heart where the strange design of his tattoo branched around in solid black streaks. “It is because of me that your little family reunion will be soon in coming. Surely you can think a way to show your appreciation for that?” He was standing right in front of her now, his lips just above hers.

“I only did what she told me to do,” the forgotten woman at their feet declared through her tears, her jealousy evident, watching the two powerful mutants above her. A white booted foot suddenly shot out, its stiletto heel cracking against her skull and she crumpled to the ground, unconscious from the vicious kick.

He tsked, shaking his head in feigned disapproval. “Temper, temper, aoi hana.”

She lifted her head haughtily. “Clean up after your little pet, and be sure to keep her away from me until our departure. Tell your benefactor I will honor our agreement, but after this is done, you best stay away.” She gave him one last baleful look before striding across the empty confines of the abandoned river-side warehouse.

Alone now, he bent down to sling the woman’s prone form over his tattooed shoulder, an anticipatory thrill shooting through him.

His revenge was close at hand. He could almost smell it.


*****


His eyes felt starchy, dry from the lack of lubrication that blinking would have normally provided. But he couldn’t help but stare at her.

This is some scary shit, he thought, brushing a lock of platinum hair away from her sleeping face. Her love made him vulnerable. Marie told him last night that she always loved him, but she had loved Scott as well. Choking back the burning jealousy that churned in his gut, his thoughts turned to the X-Men leader and his frown deepened as the memory of the other woman that they both had loved flooded into his mind.

Jean had been calm and composed; a sharp contrast to the wild and impulsive Wolverine. He had clung to the idea that a love from someone like her would anchor him, her serenity a balm to his turbulence, lost as he was without a home to call his own. He had hid behind his forced pursuit of the beautiful telepath, convinced that he could be the good guy for her, when all along it had been to prove it to someone else.

His eyes softened, looking at the woman sleeping peacefully beside him. Holding her lifeless in his arms, at the top of the Statue of Liberty, had brought out emotions in him that at the time he had been unwilling to accept. It was wrong; she was too young, too innocent, too pure. She had her whole life in front of her, and he gave her nothing but the anguished nightmares of an unclaimed past. He left as soon as he could, had tried to stay away many times afterwards, but he always found himself drawn back to her. Only to constantly hurt her, making her bear witness to the mistakes he made as he barreled through life, blind to a love he pretended was only a schoolgirl’s crush.

How could he have walked away from her, when every piece of him was created to hold her, protect her, love her? He should have grabbed their future with both fists instead of casting her aside to battle the specters of a past that never should have mattered. He almost lost her, living her life without him, loving another. Logan took a steadying breath, trying to will away the images of her and Scott together, resting his eyes on her again.

Damn, but she’s gorgeous. Not a line or blemish on her exquisite face, her full red lips still swollen from his kisses, thick black fans of eyelashes hiding sea colored eyes that he knew burned with love and passion. For him. Her deep slumber told him how much she trusted him, and a rush of protectiveness and belonging coursed through him. Oh, she’s got me good, my Marie.

Logan slipped out of bed and donned on a pair of jeans, making sure to not disturb her. He was hungry, and instinct propelled him outside to the hallway, running down the spiral iron staircase nearby that opened up into the kitchen, intent on getting some food for the both of them. He didn’t want to share his Marie with anyone today.


*****


He found Nanna sitting at the island counter in the middle of the large room, sipping at a mug of coffee. He could smell eggs, toast and bacon coming from the covered tray set beside her, juice and coffee set in separate thermoses alongside the plates it contained. He kept his eyes on her as he sat down, a wary look on his face. The two appraised each other silently for a few moments.

“Are y’all responsible for yanking the heart out of my Anina all those years ago?” She kept her hard, ebony eyes latched onto him.

He cleared his throat. “Depends ma’am. Are you the Christian, forgivin’ type?”

She sipped more of her coffee, but he had caught the flash of amusement that flickered across her face before she became serious again. “Ah just need to know that her heart is in safe-keepin’, is all.”

“Sealed tight, ma’am.” His voice was firm.

She nodded, and continued to drink her coffee. Logan stood up to dig out the cigar from his jeans, intending to go outside, but stopped when he saw her reaching into her housecoat to pull out a lighter. She lit his cigar for him when he finally managed to pull it out and his eyebrow elevated even higher in surprise when Nanna pulled out a cigarette. She lit it, dragging the smoke deep into her lungs before blowing it out to the side of her face with a long, drawn out exhale. It balanced between two bony fingers as she got up to grab a mug from the cupboard, waving away his thanks when she placed it in front him, filled with coffee. With a sigh, she sat back down and began to speak.

“She’s the spittin’ image of her momma. Every picture and paintin’ of Priscilla is gone now, Carrie saw to that, but no one could ever forget how beautiful Prissy was. God forgive me, but I hope Carrie is flayin’ a deep shade of roast down there where she deserves to be.” Her hands were steady but Logan could hear her heart beating fast. He stayed quiet, knowing she had more to say. “Ah raised Owen myself after his parents died in a car crash. He was the loneliest little boy you could come across, easy pickins’ for a girl clever enough to give him a bit o’ her attention. Carrie and Priscilla lived across the bayou, poorer than poor, stayin’ in a houseboat alone after refusin’ to live in town after their crazy momma killed herself. Twin girls as beautiful as the good Lord can make’em.”

“They were identical, outside of their colorin’,” she continued. “Carrie was like the day with that white blonde hair and cold blue eyes, and Prissy was the night with her dark mahogany hair and warm green eyes. Poor boy didn’t stand a chance once Carrie set her sights on him.” She broke off here, lost in the memory, thinking of the sickly young man who couldn’t do enough for his pretty young girlfriend. Then a shadow came across her face. “The banks of the Pearl River must have overflowed from the screams that came from that girl when Owen and Prissy up and eloped.”

Logan stared at her, surprised.

Nanna smiled bitterly. “Oh yes, Owen married Prissy instead of Carrie. It was easy to see why, when you compared the two. Prissy was all sweetness and light, while Carrie was all bitterness and dark. Ah’ll never forget how Carrie carried on, accusin’ her sister of vile things, voodoo and such, but the deed was done. The gold ring was on her sister’s hand, not hers, so she left for parts unknown. And things were good for a while. Every day we would hear Prissy sing and everyday Owen would listen to her, the happiest I had ever seen him.”

Nanna sipped at her coffee, rolling the burning ember of the cigarette into a point with the edge of a well used ashtray she had pulled out from under the counter. “Little Anna Marie came along almost nine months to the day. Her poor momma gave up the ghost to give life to her. There was no warnin’, no time to get Prissy to the hospital. One minute she was walkin’ in the back garden, and the next she was screamin' on her bed, bleedin’ her short life away. Sixteen was all she was,” she informed Logan softly, eyes sad.

“But Owen, he pulled through. Don’t know how, but he did, and he tried to raise that baby right. And Ah swear, little Anina knew how to sing before she could speak a proper word. When her daddy would get all sad, missin’ his pretty Prissy, that little girl would know and start singin’ for him.” Her voice became wistful, remembering. “It was the most beautiful sound in the world, just like her momma’s. And a father could not love a child more than that man did his Anna Marie. Then Miss Carrie came ‘round again.” Her eyes got dark here, her face showing her age. She looked intently at Logan, and he saw the hatred in their depths.

“She showed up with some kind of strong mojo, ain’t no other way to understand it. The moment Owen D’Ancanto laid eyes again on that woman, he was lost. It was like Prissy never existed. Carrie sucked Owen dry of any love he could give, includin’ the love for his own daughter, keeping it all on her.”

She shook her head. “It was a terrible thing, watchin’ Anina lose her daddy’s love. After they married, Carrie would beat her down if she so much as heard a peep of song from that poor child, and Anna Marie never said a word about it to anyone. Carrie convinced Owen his daughter was the devil’s own and after a short while, he sent her away. We lost our little singin’ angel.” Nanna bit back a sob, looking away. “Anna Marie was only seven years old.”

Tears had begun to roll down the woman’s cheeks and Logan leaned forward, heart pounding with anger. So many questions came to mind, crowding his thoughts, picturing Marie as the child she was. But he maintained his silence, seeing how important it was for Nanna to tell him her story. The guilt on her face was unmistakable, its smell surrounding her like a musty blanket that weighed heavily on her thin, aged shoulders.

“The will of a wicked woman is the wind beneath the devil’s wings, Mr. Logan. Carrie had Owen trussed up good. It wasn’t until she died some five years later, getting her drunk self killed in her fancy car, that Owen came out from under her spell. It was like watchin’ a man unbury himself. When he couldn’t find Anna Marie at the school he sent her away to, that poor man just about lost his mind.” She looked at him, eyes still reflecting her contempt for the woman responsible for driving Marie away from her home. “Someone had stolen her away, and Carrie had known all along. She told the boardin’ school that Anina was home so no one would be the wiser about her kidnappin’. Imagine the evil needed for that? Imagine not caring about a nine year old child disappearin’?”

She took another deep drag from her cigarette, the smoke calming her down somewhat as she blew it out of her mouth. “Owen searched high and low for his little girl, but nothin’ came of it. It had been three years since she was last seen, there was no clue left behind to help the authorities find her. He never stopped tryin’, mind you. Then came that Christmas Eve when he suddenly up and went to New York. And not a day too soon, dyin’ like he was. Cancer got a hold of him, somethin’ quick.” Grief flashed across her face. “When Anna Marie came home the week later, she only had him for a little while before he reunited with his Prissy. And Anina sang to him every single day, up until he died in her forgivin’ arms.”

Nanna stubbed out her cigarette and stood up, wiping tears impatiently from her face. “That girl was half alive herself when she showed up that day. Anna Marie came back to nurse a nasty heartbreak, not just for a daddy she could barely remember. All this time, through all the high falutin’ world tours, even with the openin’ of her home to these blessed children, she’s been hurtin’.” She looked to him, pinning him with a knowing glare.

“And then y’all came along. Mr. Summers is a good man, but I always knew he wasn’t the one for my Anna Marie. The way she’s been looking at you these past few weeks, it reminded me of the way Owen would look at Prissy. No more truer love than that.” She pointed to the tray of food. “Get that up to her, and don’t fret none ‘bout the rest of the day. Ah’ll be sure to bring up some lunch and dinner. Seems to me that there’s a lot y’all need to make up for to that girl, so stop your dilly-dallying and get your fine ass up there already.”

She took his cigar out of his hands and clenched it in between her teeth before taking the ashtray and making her way outside, the sun now peaking over the horizon to usher in the new day.

Logan knew Marie was in the shower before he walked back into the bedroom, the sound of spraying water easily identifiable through the wall of the hallway. Stepping inside, he noticed she had changed the sheets and made the bed during the short time that he was gone. Logan grinned wolfishly.

What a complete waste of time.

Putting down the tray on the soon to be re-messed bed, he pulled off his jeans and headed into the bathroom. Her back was to the door, hair falling to her waist, slathered in what he could tell was hair conditioner, the smell of peaches permeating through the steamed up room. She was running a well sudded bath sponge down her uplifted arm, skimming across the top of her breasts to her flat stomach before bending down to apply the same care to her legs. It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. She spun around, startled, when Logan swung open the glass door, growling in appreciation as his eyes raked over her wet, glistening skin.

“Logan, you scared…,” but her words were lost as he crashed his mouth down on hers, the hot water quickly soaking him through, plastering his hair across his face. Laughing softly against his lips, Marie climbed up on him, wrapping her legs around his waist as she took him, hardened and ready, into her hand. She slipped him into her and he hissed, from shock, but mostly in pleasure from the feel of her sheathing so tight and hot around him.

“Fuck me, Logan,” she whispered in his ear, breaking from his kiss and biting his earlobe.

Pushing her up against the cool marble wall, he began to piston into her. She bit along his throat, gripping his shoulders, panting, “So good…so good,” as she pushed his hair away from his face, relishing in the sight of him, knowing he was, without a doubt, the sexiest man ever created.

He effortlessly held her in place, his hands cupping her as he buried himself into her, harder, faster, powerfully. He was so big and she felt so small, her golden skin a sharp contrast to his hair darkened body and like the many, many times in the hours previous, Logan knew exactly when she was close to the edge, knew to twist his hips just so when she began to tremble and breathe in that certain way. He whispered her name soothingly as she cried out his name, pleasure flooding through her as overwhelmingly as before, encouraging him to join her. With a drawn out groan, she felt him shudder, his forehead resting on her shoulder as he crushed her tight against him, his muscles rippling under her hands, succumbing to his own incredible release.

“I love you darlin’. So much,” he told her roughly, licking the spot on her neck just below her ear before kissing her, his mouth tasting of cigar and coffee. She nodded, holding him tight, swirling her tongue around his as he deepened the kiss.

Breathing heavily, she stood up in one graceful movement and reached for the soapy sponge she had dropped, giving him a little smile. She stepped around him and ran it along his back and arms, following the trail of soap with her free hand, enjoying the feel of the heavily corded muscle under it. He reached behind and tried catch her with his hands, but she slapped them away.

“Be good and hold still,” she instructed him, smiling.

She ran the soap over the powerful shape of his shoulders and back, the dips and ripples of muscle bunching at her touch. She slid the sponge across his slim waist and lean hips, taking a particularly long time across his backside, making him look over his shoulder with a smirk on his face. Ignoring it, she bent down to wash the back of his long legs, hands running along the front of his thighs as she stood back up, feeling him tense as she lightly ran the sponge between them. She cradled him within her palms before raking the dark curls at its base with her nails, stroking once before releasing him, pressing her slick body against his as she stepped back around to face him.

The sight of his burning eyes trapped her own. My god, but he is absolutely beautiful, she thought, lost in their depths.

Squeezing the sponge between her fingers, she continued to wash him, across his throat and chest, pinching his nipples before sliding the sponge across his stomach and ribcage, going by feel alone, having put to memory every inch of his perfect body as she kept her eyes on his. Fascinated, she watched as his eyes darkened with desire.

He caught her hand and took the sponge away, rolling it deliberately between his fingers, making her shiver in anticipation. Even slower than her, he ran it over her body, over her throat, across her shoulders and arms, along her calves and thighs and lingeringly on her breasts, sending jolts of electricity through her as the rough mesh grazed over their sensitive tips.

Pouring shampoo into her hand, Marie began to wash his hair, enjoying both the feel of the silky strands and the feel of his hands running over her body, a deep satisfaction settling through her when he closed his eyes and sighed, almost purring as her fingers massaged his scalp. When he slipped his fingers between her legs, she gave out a startled gasp, fisting her hands in his hair to bring his mouth down to hers as her body instantly ignited from his gentle probing. Soon she was shaking in his arms, ardently telling him how good he made her feel, how desperately she needed his touch, how much she loved him, before another powerful orgasm rocked her, stealing her breath away.

“I know, darlin',” he told her, putting a leg between hers and lifting her with it to catch a wet, beaded nipple into his mouth. “I know.”

He positioned her under the stream of water and rinsed the conditioner out of her hair, and once done stood under the water himself, shaking out the shampoo in his hair as Marie held him close, resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart with her arms wrapped about his waist. He ran his hands down her hair, squeezing out the excess water straight through to its ends before returning her hug tightly. His heart thudded hard as the hot water continued to pour over the two of them, and he closed his eyes to better hear its companion, his love for her rushing through his veins.

He stepped out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around her tenderly and wrapping another around his waist. He took the towel that she had reached for to dry her hair himself, giving in to the territorial feral who instinctually wanted to care for its mate, and understanding, she stood with her back to him, lifting her head with a pleased smile on her face.

Catching sight of them in the large mirror, Marie dropped the towel from around her body to the floor. She took his hands and brought them to her breasts, squeezing her fingers over his, keeping her eyes on their reflection. She rested her head against his shoulder and raised her arms, curling her fingers into his wet hair, rubbing herself against him, hard and thick against the small of her back. He licked her throat as he fondled her breasts, brushing his thumbs lightly over top her nipples before sliding his hands down her stomach and she watched through the mirror, loving how his body shadowed hers, his broad shoulders and arms giant behind her.

Agonizingly slow, he reached lower and lower, until he finally dipped into her, his deft fingers sliding across her delicate folds before bending her over sharply, eyes snapping to catch hers in the mirror with a wicked glint, letting her know he was aware of her voyeuristic gaze.

He caressed her back, thumbs gliding along the indent of her spine, palms fanning out across her shoulder blades before running down her arms and placing her hands against the marble countertop for stability. He caressed her backside and spread her legs apart before grabbing her hips, bending his knees so he could push himself into her, and he did, so slowly that that she closed her eyes, feeling herself stretch as he filled her.

With a squeal, her eyes shot open in shock, feeling the sting of his palm spanking her.

Logan flashed a devilish grin as he admonished, “I want you looking, Marie. You started watchin’, so watch.” He plunged back into her, and pulled out more slowly than before, looking at her through the reflection of the mirror, a low growl emanating from his throat. Marie clenched her jaw, maintaining eye contact with him and began to push against him but he spanked her again, making her gasp from the surprisingly painful sting.

“Behave darlin’. I’m doing the drivin’, not you.”

She struggled to not move against him, frustrated by his measured tempo and as much as he wanted to dominate her by forcing her to remain still, the sight of her bent over, helpless, made the Wolverine escape his control. Snarling, he began to slam viciously into her, grinding deep inside, his fingers digging into her hips to hold her in place, creating bruises that appeared and disappeared on them. She bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out as he rammed himself powerfully and completely into her, and when he released his iron hold on her hips, she immediately pushed back against him, tilting her pelvis and dropping her torso lower, taking him even deeper inside her.

“Oh god, Logan,” she cried out, twisting under him, her voice almost begging as it rose. “Please,” she gasped. “I can’t take it.”

He caught her before she collapsed to the floor, wrapping an arm around her waist and another across her shoulders, lifting her up against his chest safely as he continued to thrust upwards into her, his body shuddering powerfully with hers, both experiencing their orgasm together. Holding her tight, he pressed his mouth into the hollow of her neck, telling her roughly, “You’re driving me crazy, Marie.”

Completely weakened and dependant on his hold of her, she laughed softly, struggling to catch her breath. “Thank goodness Ah heal Logan, or Ah wouldn’t be able to survive your lovin’.”

He turned her around and lifted her up into his arms, arching an eyebrow at her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “More like the other way around, darlin’,” he argued, making her blush and he laughed, delighted at the pink flush that spread itself across her whole body when she buried her head into his shoulder, embarrassed.

Logan carried her out into the bedroom and kept her on his lap as he sat them both down onto the bed. “Poor Nanna’s breakfast has gone cold by now,” he lamented with a small frown, removing the lids from the tray of food he had brought upstairs earlier.

Pouring them both some orange juice, Marie grinned and shrugged. “Ah’m starving Logan, so you better eat what you can or Ah’ll eat it all myself, warm or not. You weren’t kidding about side effects of healing factors.”

They fed each other, Logan snatching up most of the bacon before she could but sharing anyway when she pouted prettily. Afterwards, he retrieved a brush from the vanity table and began to work out the tangles in her hair, smiling contentedly when she reached for his thigh instead of a pillow to lay her head on before falling asleep again, purring.

Marie snuggled deeper into Logan’s arms and twirled his hair, the ends flipping away softly as she repeatedly caught them between her fingers. It was the middle of the night and they were alone on the balcony, everyone fast asleep throughout the estate. The air was hot and humid, their sweat slickened bodies fitting perfectly together on the lounge chair just outside the French doors of the bedroom. They both knew that he needed to get ready to leave and return to Westchester, but neither was willing to be the first to let go.

Smiling contentedly, he gave her a tight hug. Let the rest of the world call her Anina, let their friends call her Anna, but to him, she was his Marie. So perfect, so sweet, so beautiful; so damn sexy. Looking up at him, her dark green eyes shone with love.

“Ah don’t want you to go,” she told him softly, frowning slightly.

He rubbed her lower lip with his thumb before placing a gentle kiss on it. “I’ll be back, darlin’. As soon as yer done in D.C. and Slim’s back in New York, I’m comin’ right back.”

She nodded and continued to play with his hair. Over the past two days and nights they had time to talk. They talked about Jean, talked about Scott, talked about Logan’s past and her time spent away from the X-Men. He confessed how his love for her had scared him, how hard it was watching her live her life without him and she confessed how not having his love had devastated her, how hard she tried to stop loving him.

Marie was sitting across his lap – she enjoyed this position most – her legs drawn up together, her shoulder leaning against his chest as Logan slid his hand along her arm, tracing a circuitous path over her hip and thigh. He refused to allow her any clothes, even the bed sheets were forbidden so he could feast on the sight of her, naked. He liked being able to touch her bare skin, constantly, with no barriers. She pressed little kisses to his neck, inhaling his musk, enjoying the smell of the lit cigar presently clamped in between his teeth and he kissed the top of her head, enjoying the silence, and her.

He watched her fidget with his hair for a few more moments more before asking, “Who stole you away when you were little, Marie?”

Her movements stilled completely. Alarm rushed through her and her eyes shot up to his, startled. Pulling away his cigar, Logan caught her lips with his own, deepening the kiss so she was forced to return it, and she did, both of them flushed with desire before he forced himself to pull away.

“I don’t like the way you’re feelin’ Marie. I don’t like how scared you’re gettin’.” His eyes flashed, rubbing his free hand down her back again soothingly, upset at her reaction to his question. She sighed and rested her head against his chest, curling into him, drawing her legs higher. He stubbed out his cigar on the ground and wrapped his arms around her tightly, wanting to show her that she was safe, with him.

He waited patiently, knowing by the way she was breathing that she was preparing to answer him. When she started, her voice was soft, sounding calm although he could hear her heart fluttering nervously in her chest.

“Ah was on my way to ballet class, rushing, because Ah was late,” she began, ringing his hair around her finger again. “Ah was running along the pathway that connected the main school to the dormitory.” She closed her eyes, remembering. “There was a blind woman, about fifty years old or so, standing off to the side, waiting for me. She said that she had known my mother, told me my mother’s name.” Logan’s arms tightened encouragingly when she stopped, her voice catching.

“She said that they had come to rescue me.” Marie’s voice sounded far away now, her eyes dimmed. “That’s when Ah saw her for the first time.” She looked up at Logan then, eyes filling with tears. “She was so beautiful, Logan, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. When she took my hand in hers, Ah felt so loved. She told me she was going to take care of me, that she would be my mother from then on. No one stole me away, Logan. That day, without a moment’s hesitation, Ah went away with her. Willingly.”

Logan held her face in his hands and kissed her eyelids, tasting the salt of her tears, hating the sadness that suddenly surrounded her. “It's okay, darlin’. You don’t have to tell me.”

Marie shook her head, rewrapping his arms around her, needing them about her. “No. Ah want to.” She took a steadying breath and continued. “Ah was nine years old at the time. She was like a fairy godmother, appearing out of nowhere, giving me the family Ah always wanted, and Ah loved her. Ah loved her so much. Ah lived to make her happy, to make her proud of me. She worked for the federal government, Ah don’t know which department, and was away a lot, but Auntie Irene was always there, taking care of me. Ah still got to take dance and music lessons, but Momma insisted Ah stop singing. Said it was too painful for me, that it was a part of a past she wanted me to forget. Ah just wanted to make her happy, terrified that Ah would lose her love, just like Ah did my father’s, so Ah never sang again. Life seemed so perfect, just the three of us, living in our little house.” She stopped, and let go of his hair, drawing into herself.

“Until I turned fifteen, and Cody kissed me.” Logan felt her shiver as her sadness gave way to horror at the memory. His hold on her tightened, all senses alert to her powerful emotions.

“It was awful. Ah couldn’t tell which screams were Cody’s, and which were mine inside my head. Ah’ve never been so scared. Momma told the paramedics that Cody had a seizure, and Ah let her. We hid the truth about what really happened. She told me that Ah couldn’t tell anyone, told me that Ah would be hunted down like a dog if anyone knew about my mutation. She said that the world would see me as a monster, a freak and that she would protect me.”

Marie pulled away from him, ashamed. “Ah can’t remember too much after that. Ah lost all my friends, Momma took me out of school, and Ah stopped going anywhere altogether, scared that Ah would hurt more people like Ah did Cody. As time went by, more and more different voices began to enter my mind, constantly screaming at me. I don’t remember touching any of those people, but Ah figured out that Momma must have been responsible. She kept telling me Ah had a gift, that Ah had a responsibility. Ah didn’t complain. Ah loved her, Ah trusted her. Then one day Ah was being choked to death by Carol Danvers.”

She looked at him, her heart beating more frantically, her fear hanging thick around them. “Ah still don’t know how Ah got to be in that alleyway in New York City. One moment Ah was in my bedroom, falling asleep, and then suddenly, Carol’s hands were wrapped around my bare throat, skin to skin. Ah could feel her personality taking over mine, telling me to not fight back, to let her kill me. Momma was there, trying to save me, trying to get Carol to release her hold on me, but Carol was too strong. Ah don’t know how Ah managed to break free, but Ah must have because suddenly Ah was running, with Auntie Irene’s voice in my head telling me to run faster and faster away.”

Marie kept her eyes averted from Logan’s, afraid of what she would find there. “Ah hate myself for what Ah did for Momma, for what Ah must have done to all those people to trap their personalities in my mind. Ah didn’t have their memories like Ah did Cody’s, just their voices screaming at me for hurting them. Momma had taken advantage of my love for her, making me think that Ah owed her, but Ah let her, it was my fault. Ah knew all along that it had been wrong, no matter how hard Ah tried to convince myself that it was okay.”

She cleared her throat, and resumed playing with his hair, trying to ignore how still Logan had become.

“That was the night Ah buried Anna Marie D’Ancanto and became the Rogue. Ah spent the next year trying to make my way to Alaska, where Ah figured Ah could get away with wearing gloves and heavy clothing all the time. After almost nine months on the road and no news reports to report me missing, Ah figured Momma had just let me go, glad to be rid of me, just like Ah believed my father had done when Ah left the school years before. It got to be pathetic, how Ah would always try to catch the news to see if she reported me missing, only to be constantly reminded that she didn’t. Momma just didn’t care Ah was gone.” She blinked away her tears, and became quiet.

Logan was staring down at her, trying to process what she had told him. He knew Carol Danvers. Very well. Ms Marvel had recovered from the coma Marie had put her in years ago, although she had to go through hell before her memories were restored to her. He never thought to question Carol when she assumed it was her that attacked Rogue in a drunken rage when Marie was just a kid on the streets. He had been angry with his old friend at the time at the discovery, when all along it might have been Marie who attacked her, not the other way around.

Seeing the look in his eyes, Marie took his face into her hands, heart in her throat. “Ah never lied to you, Logan. Ah know Carol thought it was her fault that Ah took away her memories and powers, but Ah was so confused at the time, Ah’m still not sure what really happened. Ah was wrong to not tell anyone about my suspicions that it might have been my fault, and about Momma. But Ah wanted to forget my past, forget about that woman who used me, who pretended to love me like a daughter.”

She was crying openly now, his face blurred through her tears. “Ah was wrong, Ah know, but finding you and going to Xavier’s Academy was a chance for me to try and make up for all the things Ah did for her. Please Logan, please try to understand. Ah was so lonely, and so tired. Ah didn’t want to run anymore.”

Logan was already hushing her, stroking her hair soothingly, holding her close, his face a mask of sympathy and love. “I do understand darlin’, I do. I didn’t exactly stick around long enough fer you to trust me anyway.” He rested his chin on her head, his voice gruff. "Please don’t cry, Marie. I love you.”

His Marie had suffered so much in her life, used and tossed around like a rag doll. He had no idea that she had gone through so much before coming into his life, he had assumed her life was picture perfect before her mutation had kicked in. It infuriated him to learn it hadn’t been. He had so many more questions, about her mother, about her step-mother, about this Auntie Irene, but he needed to wait, seeing that she was too raw. All he wanted to do was to stop her pain, her fear, and make her feel happy again. He lifted her chin and swallowed her sobs with a tender kiss, letting her know he was here now, that she could love and trust him, that he would protect her.

Marie took his kiss and deepened it, desperately clinging to him as she banished away the image of the only mother she had ever known back into the recesses of her mind. Logan didn’t stop her when she sat up and straddled him between her legs, didn’t stop her when she reached between her legs and began to stroke him, her bites on his throat almost painful, eyes reflecting her growing feral state.

She raised her hips and impaled herself on him, lifting herself up and slowly sinking back down, wriggling her taut, voluptuous body as a rhythm took hold of her. Logan forced himself to not reach out to her, giving her the control she needed. She threw her head back and reached behind to steady herself on his thighs, her fingers digging into his unyielding, muscled flesh as she rocked against him steadily, as deeply as she could, gasps escaping her open mouth. The moon made the sweat on her skin gleam, and he watched beads of it roll down her spectacular body with envy, devouring the sight of her, her hair falling over her shoulders and tickling his chest.

He dug his fingers into the palms of his hands to prevent them from grabbing her, tasted blood from where he bit his lip to prevent them from tasting her, growling himself when she quickened her pace, her moans becoming louder and louder as the tension built within her, within him. But he couldn’t help thrusting his hips, giving her that extra pressure to cast her over the precipice to ecstasy that he knew was evading her and with a grateful sob, she reached for him, suddenly desperate for his hands on her body, for his lips to be on hers as explosions of pleasure burst through her.

Logan brushed her hair away from her face, running his hands all over her trembling body, catching all the sweat that had accumulated on her smooth, hot skin. Logan continued to push himself into her as she pooled around him, kissing his Marie, kissing and kissing her, gasping out words of love and words of forever into her ear until he joined her in blissful relief.

Marie was ushered up the steps leading into the Capitol Building, two S.H.I.E.L.D. bodyguards dressed in black fatigues clearing a path for her through the throngs of protestors both for and against the proposed Mutant Registration Bill. As she was about to enter the building, she felt a hand slide intimately across her backside and she whirled around to face the offender, finding herself glaring into the handsome face of Tony Stark.

With a flick of his head, the guards immediately obeyed the instruction of S.H.I.E.L.D’s deputy director and stepped back to afford the two some privacy.

“Oh. My. God. You just get hotter each time I see you.” Tony’s eyes trailed along the length of her, appreciative and lit with mischief. Marie turned her face before his lips could make contact with hers, his mouth landing openmouthed on her cheek.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark.” Her voice was icily polite, matching the cool expression on her face as she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand in an exaggerated slow motion.

Unruffled, his face dimpled, flashing perfect teeth in a cheeky grin. “Now, now my enchanting Anina, I think we can stay on a first name basis. I think that night in Paris demands it.”

Marie considered him for a moment. His pursuit of her over the years had long ago become a familiar bantering routine between the two of them; he remained relentless and she continued to be unyielding. She lidded her eyes and leaned into him, resting her hands gently on his chest as her lips brushed against his ear.

“Je me rappelle tout au sujet de cette nuit à Paris, Antoine,” she whispered huskily, leaning into him, and curling her fingers around the lapel of his custom made Armani jacket.

Anthony Stark, aka Iron Man, CEO of Stark Industries and senior member of the Avengers, swallowed hard, visibly affected by her words. He closed his eyes and muttered under his breath, “C-SPAN’s going R-rated if you keep this up, little Miss Anna. When are you going to let me finish what I started?” Gone was the teasing tone in his voice. He wanted her.

Marie put her arm through his and stepped back, smiling brightly for the cameras flashing in front of them, their owners jumping at the chance to catch the two celebrities together for their respective newspapers. Tony followed suit, smiling as brightly as her, standing behind her to hide his unmistakable arousal. Placing his hands on her waist, he took advantage of the opportunity to illustrate what she was responsible for by pressing against her, a moan rumbling low in his throat.

With a last brilliant smile directed to the throng of photographers in front of them, Marie stabbed a stiletto heel into his toe and ignored his barely concealed yelp of pain, telling him, “I’m spoken for Stark,” before spinning around to make her way into the gigantic building. She shared a knowing smirk with the female S.H.I.E.L.D. guard who fell back in stride alongside of her, the male counterpart wincing in sympathy for the man she left behind. They escorted her to the assigned seat opposite to where the attending X-Men were already situated before turning to stand at the nearby wall, eyes scanning the quickly filling room.

Scott stared at her, his eyes taking in the navy blue pencil skirt and fitted waist jacket she was wearing, the white of her blouse bright against the exposed golden skin of her collarbone and neck. Her hair was pulled back loosely into a braid that fell over her shoulder in an uncharacteristically soft style, the white streak snaking through the thick rope. Her face was free of makeup, making her appear even younger than usual, and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the sight of her, just a few feet away from him.

Feeling the weight of his stare, Marie turned to him and he nodded to her briskly in acknowledgment before looking stiffly away. Ororo and Hank smiled in her direction affectionately and she returned their smiles before trying to get Scott’s attention, but he kept his face in profile, back straight and jaw clenched. With a sad sigh, her eyes pulled away from him.

Professor Xavier was sitting with Dr. Richard Reed and his wife Susan at the delegation table, going over their notes, seemingly engrossed in their conversation until she felt his soft pull at her mind.

~ How are you, Anna? ~

She kept her eyes forward, exhibiting interest in the senator’s aides that were distributing various documents on the long table that stretched across the front of committee room. Just a little nervous Professor. It’s upsetting enough to know that the Bill has already passed the House of Representatives. It’s a bit too real.

~ We are still far away from this Bill becoming Law. I am very glad you’re here, my dear. Your public opposition to the Bill will be invaluable. ~

It’s the very least that I am willing to do. Good luck Charles, she told him earnestly.

Several federal agents came into the room and began to clear out people that were milling about the aisles, ignoring the looks and exclamations of outrage sent their way when they removed those who did not have a seat, out into the hallway. Security around the federal building was already at its highest possible deployment, and all protocols were being strictly adhered to. No standing room allowed.

Marie looked behind her, easily distinguishing which people in attendance that were for the proposed Bill and which weren’t. The scents of hatred and fear coming off the “for” factions were mostly to the left of her; the concerned but resolute expressions on the faces of the “against” on her right. She glanced at her watch, and frowned, noting that the hearing was already over fifteen minutes late.

“Nerve wracking, isn’t it?”

Marie turned to the woman who was sitting beside her. She smiled politely and replied in the affirmative. The woman was dressed in a black trouser suit, her medium length blonde hair parted on the side and falling along her face in an efficient bob. Her scent was familiar, prompting Anna to ask, “Have we met before?”

That seemed to startle the woman. With a quick smile, the woman told her, “I think the whole world knows who you are, Ms D’Ancanto.” She held out her hand and introduced herself.

“I’m Melanie. Melanie Doonan.”

Marie shook her hand, noting that the woman’s eyes widened slightly at the skin to skin contact. “Pleased to meet you, Melanie Doonan. And please, call me Anna.”

“Will do.” The woman scanned the room before returning her blue eyes to her. “So tell me Anna, which side do you support?”

Marie shifted in her seat, taking full stock of the woman. Her question was innocuous enough, but she could sense that the woman already knew what her answer would be. The public didn’t know Anina was a mutant, so it was surprising that this stranger was so willing to ask her opinion on the contentious issue. Yes, her scent was definitely familiar. No alarms were going off, but there was something there.

“I support the acceptance of humanity in all its forms, Melanie. It’s not so much the taking of a side, but the outright rejection of there being sides at all, that I support.”

The woman nodded her head at Marie’s words, face grave. “I hope they fucking throw this bill into the nearest shitter too.”

Shocked, Marie couldn’t help but laugh and Melanie joined her, making several people turn in their direction in the otherwise somber room. The feeling became stronger than déjà vu – something more– and Marie knitted her brows together, feeling like there was something just outside her consciousness that could allow her to recognize this woman. That’s when she noticed the faint bruising on Melanie’s jaw line, heavily covered with makeup, and the cut just above her cheekbone that her hair tried to conceal. Disturbed by the marks of violence on the woman’s face, Marie opened her mouth to ask more of her, but the Senate Chamber doors swung open to reveal Senator Robert Kelly.

The committee’s chairperson made his way to the chair set in front of the seated attendees of the hearing, his fellow Senators filing in behind him. They all sat down and began shuffling through papers, adjusting the microphones set in front of them and listening to the whispered comments of their assistants before settling in.

The noise in the room rose in anticipation and Melanie smiled, making a show of becoming serious as she shifted in her seat to face the committee. Marie determined that there would be time enough to get to know Melanie during what would be a decidedly very long day. Everyone anticipated these hearings would carry over through most of the week and Marie felt disappointment resettle over her. She knew where she would much rather be, her thoughts of a certain double handed, triple clawed feral turning decidedly carnal.

Multiple cameras erected throughout the room turned on, the checkerboard of screens in the temporarily constructed control room out in the hallway showing the images of the individuals gathered to provide testimony. In opposition, Professor Charles Xavier of the X-Men; Dr. Richard Reeds and his wife Susan Reed of the Fantastic Four; and Anthony Stark of the Avengers acting as representative of S.H.I.E.L.D., and in support, Graydon Creed; flanked by his Humanity Now church leaders, and not surprisingly by his side; Norman Osborne of H.A.M.M.E.R, the new federally sanctioned agency.

But the majority of the screens contained close up shots of the famous Anina, her lovely face captured in varying angles.

Logan was standing beside Kurt in the common room of the Westchester senior academy in New York. Marie’s face flashed across the screen of the large television set against the wood paneling of the north wall, and his heart clenched at the sight of her. He growled when several of the students sitting around the room whistled.

“Pay attention and shut yer yaps, unless you wanna spend some time in the Danger Room with me for some extra trainin’.”

His eyes scanned the group of about twenty teenagers, resting on the few that were particularly vocal in their appreciation of the woman whose image was still broadcasted on the screen. They avoided his eyes and settled down, their fear palpable and with a satisfied grunt, he leaned back against the wall, ignoring Kurt grinning beside him. The hearing was under way.

“The Legislative Standing Committee has now come to order. Bill Number H.R. 37883, also referred to as the Mutant Registration initiative, has been in consideration for some time now, and after substantial revisions in the House of Representatives, is now in the position of being presented to House of the Senate for consideration. These preliminary hearings are for this Committee to determine if it should reach the Senate Floor for ratification.”

Senator Kelly’s words boomed across the capacity filled room. Flipping through pages set before him in a tired fashion, he removed the glasses that were resting on the bridge of his nose and looked directly at Charles Xavier.

“Several members of the public and various government agencies are present to provide evidence and on behalf of the committee, I thank you all for your time in being here today. What say you, Mr. Xavier?”

The room became completely silent as Charles stood up to address the committee. Logan pushed off from where he was leaning against the wall, and stood with his legs spread apart, arms folded across his chest as he stared intently at the screen.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I have adopted this fine country as my own over thirty years ago, and I am grateful for all the opportunities these United States have afforded me. During this time I have witnessed many things. Times of challenge, and times of triumph. I could remind the honorable members of this Committee that this was a country that once determined worth by skin color. I could also remind the Committee that this was a country that once refused to recognize mothers, sisters and daughters as equal beings to men. But reminders of our past are unnecessary because, you see, I do not intend to ask that we learn from our mistakes.” He lifted his head higher.

“I demand it.”

Professor Xavier turned to the crowd seated behind him, taking the time to cast his eyes over the room before returning his attention to the Senators seated before him.

“Mutant Registration.” He spat the two words out, startling most of the attendees with the vehemence in which he did. “Are they to be branded cattle? Should they line up, men, women and children and cast aside their dignity to assuage the irrational fears of a loud few? Are they different? Yes, quite glaringly so in some cases actually.” Here he looked to Dr. McCoy, who nodded somberly in acknowledgment.

“But we are - all of us – the same in our shared humanity!” Professor Xavier fairly bellowed the last sentence, smashing his fist onto the table in front of him. The sounds of raucous applause exploded around him and Senator Kelly had to bang his gavel several times, uselessly at first, before the crowd finally settled down.

Hundreds of miles northeast, the common room in the Westchester Academy exploded with high pitched cheers, and hundreds of miles southwest, the staff room in Willowbend Academy resounded with exclamations of solidarity. Bobby pulled Kitty back up against his chest, rubbing her belly, their facial expressions solemn.

Logan allowed the students their burst of emotion before putting his hand out to silence them. Marie’s image came back on the screen, clear green eyes shining with conviction and his hands itched, missing her. It had been only three days since he last saw her, but it was seventy-one hours too long already.

There was a commotion off to the side of her and Logan could make out a couple of protestors suddenly tearing off jackets exposing white t-shirts with the words “MUTANT MENACE” emblazoned across them. They were screaming words, unintelligible through the newsfeed, and the S.H.I.E.L.D. bodyguards who were assigned to Marie stepped in to clear them from the room. Logan’s hair on the back of his neck rose. Marie was in a hostile environment and for the umpteenth time since leaving her to return to New York, wished that he had accompanied her, instead of being stuck babysitting. Just being apart from her felt fucking wrong.

Things settled down once again and Senator Kelly took the time to angrily point out that any more outbursts would be severely reprimanded. As Professor Xavier continued his testimony, Marie could see someone stand up from their seat from the side of her. Turning to look, Marie determined it was a woman, wearing a black pair of sunglasses, her head covered in a blue scarf, her long, lithe body sheathed in a black, form-fitting dress. The manner in which she walked tugged at her, and so did her scent. Marie narrowed her eyes, frustrated that she couldn’t place it, just like she couldn’t place Melanie’s.

She turned her attention to Melanie who suddenly became very anxious, her body tense, almost afraid when the woman continued to make her way to where they were seated. Charles Xavier stopped talking and looked sharply in Marie’s direction.

~ What is it, Anna? Who is that woman? ~

I think I know her Professor, I think…

The woman stopped directly in front of her. She pulled off the scarf that hid her hair, along with the sunglasses. Long black hair swirled about her shoulders and she looked lovingly at Marie.

“Momma’s here, precious girl.”

Marie’s face whitened, now recognizing the woman’s scent.

She heard Scott yell her name in warning when Melanie suddenly took hold of her hand, her eyes pleading for understanding when she said in a voice full of remorse, “I’m so sorry, Anna Marie. Forgive me.”

Marie’s head snapped back, a rush of images pouring into her mind, fitting perfectly into empty spaces that she hadn’t known were there, connecting to emotions that cemented them back into her psyche. Images of a teenage Melanie flickered among them, interspersed between images of Momma and Auntie Irene. Only Auntie Irene was also dressed in a flowing blue cape over a blue bodysuit, her face featureless under a golden mask and Momma transformed into a beautiful blue skinned woman, with flashing yellow eyes and red hair falling away from a skull pendant set in high on her forehead.

Mystique.

Marie remembered.

Melanie, guilty and heartbroken at the expression on Marie’s face, kept the connection between them open as she returned all of the memories she had stolen fifteen years earlier back into Marie in one tremendous push, gripping her hand forcefully.

“Welcome back to the Brotherhood, daughter,” Marie heard Mystique say before the multi-armed mutant named Spiral appeared out of nowhere and transported all four women away amongst the yells of shocked spectators around them.

Marie’s screams reverberated in Charles Xavier's mind and he looked to his stunned X-Men, stricken.

He was waiting for them.

The X-Men saw him as soon as they ran down the Blackbird’s opened hatch, Nightcrawler standing grimly beside him. The Wolverine’s face was blackened with fury, his chest heaving with the effort to hold back his rage. He was dressed in uniform, his fingers twitching.

“Yer wasting time, Chuck,” he growled through clenched teeth when the professor stopped in front of him. He eyed Cyclops accusingly. The X-Men leader met his heated glare steadily, silently accepting responsibility for what had happened hours earlier in Washington. Storm squeezed Cyclops arm in passing, disagreeing on his take of things during their flight back, but recognizing that arguing the point now would do nothing to get Anna back. That was all that mattered.

Professor Xavier had already rushed down the hallway to the large room where Cerebro was situated. The rest of the X-Men geared up and began refueling the jet, each avoiding the enraged feral who remained standing in the middle of the hangar, all of them well aware that the Wolverine was barely in control.

They raced back to the Blackbird and had just finished strapping themselves into their seats when Charles Xavier contacted them telepathically.

~ She is in Natchez, Mississippi. I am sending you the co-ordinates and I’m imparting a visual of the building she is in. Hurry X-Men. ~

The students watched from their dorm windows as the sleek black jet rose up from underneath the opened basket ball court, hovering momentarily, its rockets gathering power before streaking across the cloudless, late afternoon sky.


*****


St. John Allerdyce was looking up at Anna Marie, lying unconscious on the bed in what used to be her old bedroom. “Who would have thought Rogue was a member of the original Brotherhood?” he wondered out loud.

He was sitting on floor, the clicking of his lighter making the only other sound in the small room. The silence was grating on his nerves. “All this time, I thought I was the bad seed in Xavier’s high school of misfits, meanwhile, Rogue was the full blown weed.” Pyro laughed, nimbly jumping to his feet to stand over his former friend.

“I always knew there was something about her.” His eyes took on an appreciative gleam, taking in Rogue’s curvaceous form. Mystique frowned in annoyance from where she was sitting at the foot of the bed.

“My daughter is no weed, Allerdyce.”

He shrugged, turning his attention to small pretty woman with the short dark hair, who, in his opinion, suited the blond wig more. Melanie, also known as Blindspot, had her hands on both sides of Anna Marie’s face, her own tense with concentration as she sorted through the memories she was encountering. Spiral was standing by the window, her eyes fixated outside, watching.

Pyro was getting antsy from the lack of conversation. “Does Magneto know?”

Mystique pointedly ignored him, but the slender man continued, trying to wrap his head around what he had just learned. “Can you imagine how different things would have been if Rogue stayed in the Brotherhood?” He shook his head. “That was some ugly business at the Statue of Liberty a few years back, she still has that funky white stripe in her hair. I remember Rogue really hating you.” He laughed, flicking open his lighter again. “That’s going to make for some awkward conversation around the family dinner table, mommy dearest. God, I can’t wait for her to wake up.”

The narrowing of Mystique’s yellow eyes gave the only indication that his words affected her. She kept her eyes focused on Anna Marie.

Spiral turned to Pyro, flexing her many arms. “Let’s go wait outside,” she suggested, growing annoyed herself at his constant prattling. He lifted his hands, palms up, to illustrate no foul before leaving with the transporter, smiling. This was the most excitement he’s had in a long time and it was only going to get better in the next few hours.

Reaching out with a gloved hand to hold her foster daughter’s hand, Mystique’s eyes flickered between blue and yellow. No, Erik had no idea about Rogue, having joined Mystique’s Brotherhood of Mutants after Anna Marie had run away. She could care less about what his reaction would be. His abandonment of her after she temporarily lost her powers from getting shot with the cure removed any sense of loyalty she had to the man who she hoped lived the rest of his natural days in the plastic prison that now held him.

Mystique's thoughts turned to the betrayal that cut her deeper. Destiny had never told her of the premonition she had of Anna Marie's death at the hands of the Brotherhood. After the incident with Ms Marvel, Destiny convinced Blindspot to remove memories from both Mystique and Anna Marie, leaving her foster daughter with nothing but the memories of them as Irene Adler and Raven Darkholme - their civilian forms - and Mystique with no memory at all of her beloved foster daugher. Destiny had passed away years ago, taking what she had done to the grave, little realizing that her premonition had almost come true anyway.

Her heart icing over the ache, Mystique eyes rested on the young woman working on Anna Marie. She had used Blindspot as well, having her remove Anna Marie’s memories repeatedly each time Mystique forced her foster daughter to use her mutation. It had been unavoidable; Melanie’s particular mutation didn’t take skill and knowledge from her victim, whereas Anna Marie’s did. Anna Marie was so young, Mystique was sure, given time, she would have stopped protesting and agreed with the Brotherhood’s goal of achieving mutant supremacy over baseline humans. But she had been forced to run away, almost straight into the clutches of those X-Men fools.

Learning that the Wolverine had a son was almost as shocking as the discovery that she herself had a daughter. It was sheer luck that Daken had met Melanie at an art auction in Brussels where he had enslaved her under his pheromonal influence to gain access to her wealth. In time, Blindspot exposed her mutation and long standing secret to him in a misguided attempt to impress her new lover and now, here he was, using the information to his advantage.

Mystique took the place of Spiral at the window and peered outside, asking Blindspot in a cutting voice, “Have you discovered any information in regards to the mutant that Daken wants to locate?

Melanie shook her head, frowning. “Anna Marie has no memories of her. There’s nothing here. Nothing at all.”

“That’s impossible. That mutant’s been delivering children to the X-Men Academies over the past two years, many to Anna Marie’s location in Mississippi specifically. There must be something, a name at least.”

Blindspot bit back a sharp retort. “There is nothing. No images whatsoever of a golden angel-like creature that Daken’s so desperate to find.” Melanie felt fear stab into her, thinking of him and fell silent. He was going to be upset. She looked down at Anna Marie, face softening. At least she was back in her life.

Mystique looked towards her, agitated. “Have you not accessed Anna Marie’s memories of the past fifteen years?”

A shadow crossed over Melanie’s face, the savage jealousy that had taken hold of her earlier returning in a hot rush. Yes, she had accessed Anna Marie’s memories – that was her particular mutation after all; stealing and implanting people’s memories at will - but what she had seen infuriated her.

Anna Marie was able to touch.

Melanie had always thought that her immunity to Anna Marie's mutation would have led to her younger friend falling in love with her. When Destiny asked her to remove all memory of her from Anna Marie's mind, she had comforted herself with the belief that Anna Marie would always remain untouchable and unloved. The famous Anina’s reputation of being a cold, heartless woman had supported that belief. But now, Melanie knew different. The images of Anna Marie touching and being touched stabbed at Blindspot’s heart, enraging her, taunting her. And a special hatred for the Wolverine began to develop deep within her.

“Keep looking, Blindspot. We don’t know how much time we have before they locate us.”

*****


Daken assessed the unconscious figure lying on the bed. Learning that she had nothing to offer in terms of locating the mutant his employer wanted found was disappointing, but he learned long ago that patience was always awarded. His flight back to Japan was leaving in an hour, but he wanted to see her, this famous Anina who used to be an X-Man. Like his father.

He reached out to grab some of the startling white hair that framed her face, glowing almost, against the darkness of the remaining locks that flowed around it. The Mohawk haired man twirled the strands around and around his finger until he touched her smooth forehead. He tugged, and her head shifted, but otherwise, she did nothing. Aware of Blindspot watching his every move from the far corner of the room, he climbed onto the small bed and placed a leg on either side of the beautiful woman, sitting back on his feet.

“I can see why you want her, Melanie,” he told her, tilting his head as he took in the shape of the woman beneath him. Curious, he focused and allowed his arousal to surround them, smiling when a small moan escaped her full lips. Blindspot’s startled gasp behind him made him smile further.

“Well, well. Unlike Mystique, this piece of tastiness reacts to me just fine.” He unsheathed one of his claws. Daken plucked off the buttons of her shirt, exposing the black lacy bra underneath, and with a decisive downward slash, cut away her skirt, revealing the matching panties. His eyes narrowed, blood rushing through him in reaction to more of her body being exposed for his perusal.

“Come here, Melanie.”

Melanie approached him, afraid for her, afraid for Anna Marie. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, flipping it over his shoulder to fall to the middle of his powerfully muscled bare back, the expression on his handsome face patient, almost kind. He gently patted the spot on the bed beside Anna Marie’s head and she sat down, docile, eyes downcast as they always were whenever she was near him. But then, she couldn’t help herself, Melanie’s eyes looked up and took in Anna Marie’s body, feeling heat pool between her legs.

Daken’s laughter made her ears burn.

He began to rub himself, his erection clearly visible against the tight black leather pants he wore. Retracting his claw, he laid his open hand on Anna Marie’s throat, squeezing it as though he intended to choke her. Fascinated, Daken saw that she began to breathe deeper, dragging in his scent deep into her lungs, heating up beneath him. Daken lowered his hand to her breast, curling away the lace of her bra so that the full, rounded flesh filled heavily into his palm. At his touch, she arched her back and he growled instinctively.

“Get out.”

Melanie hesitated, fear and anger battling within her. She wanted to be the only one to touch Anna Marie, but at the same time, she wanted Daken to touch only her. Her conflicting emotions made her hesitate too long and he snarled. Daken only had eyes for the woman on the bed, mesmerized. He ran a thumb over the beaded tip of her breast, his growl deepening when Anna Marie responded by spreading open her legs. His breathing shallowed.

“I said, get OUT!”

Blindspot jumped and left the room, slamming the door behind her. Daken was barely aware of the sound, eyes fixated on the woman who was now gyrating under him, making sounds that told him that she was on fire, the heady aroma of her own thick arousal grabbing hold of him.

“Who are you?” he asked in a whisper, running his hands along her thighs, wishing she would open her eyes. She began to growl; fingers digging into the bed and he felt the feral in him respond. He impatiently pulled his pants past his hips and wrapped a hand around himself, hissing in relief as his fingers ran over his engorged length. He grabbed her legs roughly and threw them over his shoulders, positioning himself to bury himself inside the submissive female beneath him, consumed with lust.

“Get off my daughter!” Daken felt himself be pulled away and thrown against the wall, causing all six of his claws to spring forward as he faced the enraged morphing mutant.

Mystique had transformed into him, sprouting her own version of his claws, and held them up against his throat, a murderous glint in her still yellow eyes. With a roar, he spun her around and pinned her up against the wall, momentarily unsettled by the eerie mirror image of himself.

“I can kill you!” he reminded her viciously, his thwarted desire pressing against the hard abdomen of the exact duplicate of himself.

Mystique was well aware that she was seconds from being gutted, but she was more afraid for her daughter, lying on the bed, half ravished. Knowing him, she looked down at his lips and said in a perfect cadence of his own voice, “I am sure you and I can come up with an alternate option for entertainment, Daken.”

Breathing hard, he kept his eyes on her. The feral in him demanded that he return to the responsive female laying on the bed, but suddenly, his mouth was captured by its twin, his body pressed up against a body identical to his own. Another fire raced through him. This was interesting.

“I like your style, Mystique.” He wrapped her/his hand around himself and stroked downwards, before biting into her/his neck. Laughing softly, she/he backed out of the room to lead him out into the hallway where the door to Mystique’s bedroom slammed shut behind them. Watching her/him take him deeply into her/his mouth, Daken smiled. This would be a pleasant enough diversion before he left. With a grunt, he focused on the ministrations of the mutant kneeling before him.

Out in the hallway, Melanie shook with fury. This was going all wrong. Silently, Melanie re-entered Anna Marie’s room, tenderly pulling up the bed sheet to cover her.

Blindspot knew what she had to do.

Cloaked, the Blackbird landed behind a copse of trees on the bluff above the banks of the Mississippi River, just outside the Natchez city limits as the sun was beginning to set. The X-Men exited the jet silently, each spreading out in pairs to approach the small, white washed house nearby. The home was completely dark, no lights shone from anywhere around or within it. Jubilee and Colossus informed Cyclops via tele-link that they were clear on the south end, Storm and Beast indicating the same from their position on the north, followed by Nightcrawler from the east.

Without clearance, the Wolverine ran off, senses alert to his mate, picking up her scent. The X-Men leader swore under his breath and chased after him, telling the others to keep close, his annoyance alleviated knowing that Wolverine’s impulsive action confirmed that Anna was nearby. Wolverine stopped in his tracks, sniffing, and Cyclops stilled himself, lifting his right fist up to instruct the rest of his team to follow suit.

Suddenly, flames exploded across the front lawn of the home.

The X-Men jumped back and Storm flew into the air, dark clouds swirling above her to summon forth rain to combat the large fire that had surrounded the home in a protective ring. Pyro laughed from where he was standing on the roof and raised the height of the fire to his level when Beast attempted to leap over it.

“Now, now Doc. It's invitation only to this welcome home party,” St. John admonished, stretching out his fingers to make the flames flare upwards towards Storm to offset her efforts to extinguish his inferno. Wolverine roared and leapt into the air with claws extended, his flesh singing from the fire as he pushed through it, ignoring the searing pain as the powerful lunge catapulted him onto the roof.

“I hate party-crashers,” he heard a woman’s voice announce from the left of him, just before multiple fists landed powerful blows to his body in quick succession. “This is a private, family affair.”

Each word was accentuated with additional punches to his gut and ribs, ending with an uppercut that sent him back to the ground below. Spiral grinned and jumped down, clearly enjoying the opportunity to engage in battle with the Wolverine. “But we can have our own party, big boy,” she suggested, fisting all six of her hands, bouncing on the balls of her feet in front of him.

Cyclops and Jubilee *bamfed* onto the front lawn past the fence of fire with the assistance of Nightcrawler before the blue demon transported himself to where Pyro was standing, taking the younger man by surprise.

“It seems my mother failed to invite me to the festivities,” the blue colored demon stated with a shrug. He grabbed his former student’s head and pulled it down as he brought his right knee up to connect with the fire wielding mutant’s face, rendering him unconscious from the vicious blow. With the fire gone, Beast and Colossus joined their team mates in front of the house, Storm landing beside them.

“Show yourself, Mystique!” Cyclops demanded. He placed a hand on the side of his ruby quartz visor, eyes intent on the front door of the small home, the X-Men crouching into fighting stances beside him. The dark-haired woman who was at the Committee hearing appeared at an upstairs window, opening it and smiling as she leaned out, resting her elbows on the window sill as though finding super-heroes on her front lawn were an everyday occurrence.

“Why, it’s the X-Men! What a pleasant surprise,” she exclaimed to the group below when they stepped back to put her into view. “To what do I owe this honor?”

From the left of them, Wolverine launched himself at Spiral with a guttural roar, his claws slicing through air when the multi-armed blonde teleported away safely to stand outside the window the brunette was now stepping through. Both women stood on the small roof that ran across the top of the porch, looking down at the group of mutants below.

With a growl, Logan stepped forward, his nine inch adamantium claws glinting from the small fires that still burned around them. “Where is she, Mystique?” He would know that maniac’s scent anywhere. His voice was harsh from suppressed virulence, teeth bared. He could smell Marie. She was close.

The woman laughed and morphed into her true form, long black hair giving way to shorter red, yellow pupil-less eyes shining against deep blue skin. “Where is who?” She looked to Spiral beside her and they both shrugged their shoulders in feigned confusion.

“La petite that you stole, femme. Where is she?”

Gambit landed alongside the X-Men, his red eyes flashing dangerously, surprising everyone but Wolverine who had smelled the mutant’s approach from the river nearby. One hand held fully charged cards, the other his staff, his brown leather overcoat swirling behind him. He pushed forward, intending to storm the home but stopped short when the front door suddenly swung forcefully open, instead of in, causing it to rip off its hinges.

“Lookin’ for me, handsome?”

Gambit pulled back as Rogue stepped onto the porch. She was dressed in a black leather cat suit, the thin material clinging to her every curve like second skin, thigh high heeled boots accentuating her long legs. Her hair was loose about her shoulders, cascading down her back in waves, the white streak pulled across her forehead and pulled behind one ear like a hair band. She arched an eyebrow at him, a small smile playing at her lips.

It had been easy for the Guild’s underground network to uncover where Raven Darkholme lived, and its leader had torn up the Mississippi River from New Orleans the moment Professor Xavier had informed him that she was responsible for Rogue’s abduction. Gambit looked at the mutant he had come to rescue, breathless from the sight of her after being starved of it for so long. The years melted away and his heart lurched. Rogue was more beautiful than he remembered.

His scarlet eyes widened when she reached for him, her green eyes taking on a sultry glow. “Y’all look delicious,” she whispered just before she captured his mouth with hers.

Stunned, Wolverine watched as the woman he loved pressed her body against the Guild leader, digging her gloved fingers into his hair to deepen the passionate kiss.

Gambit wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace, enthusiastically returning the kiss, thinking he was in heaven, only to realize he was in hell. His eyes shot open, his bare skin riddling with blackened veins as his life energy drained away from him and into her. Rogue broke away and released him, her face full of malice as he fell into a twitching heap at her feet.

She licked her lips.

“Now dat be some good Cajun gumbo, fo' true,” she declared softly, removing her gloves menacingly. Rogue’s eyes blackened, irises burning vermillion as she stepped out onto the porch steps; both hands lit with purple energy.

The X-Men stepped back, shocked, except for Wolverine who stepped towards her. He retracted his claws, eyes fastened on hers. “Marie, it’s me. Logan. We’ve come for you. Everything’s alright now, darlin’.’”

Something was very, very wrong. He saw her crouch down and remove cards from the debilitated man’s overcoat, drawing her arms back with one leg placed behind her for balance.

Rogue’s eyes flared.

She flung all the charged cards in her hands at him with pinpoint accuracy, the tremendous force of the explosions blowing the rest of X-Men back, sending them toppling for cover. The blasts tore into Wolverine, ripping his chest open, the sickening stench and sight of his charred flesh making Jubilee cry out his name in horror.

He collapsed, motionless to the ground.

Mystique and Spiral laughed. Eyes whitening, Storm flew into the air and hurled lightning bolts at the two women, as gusts of winds lashed around them. Storm encompassed Spiral in a funnel cloud, levitating her high into the sky and ruthlessly squeezing the air tight around the multi-armed mutant, sending her idle form smashing through the roof of the home. Mystique screeched in frustration, furious that two of her colleagues were so easily incapacitated, and now her planned mode of escape was closed to her.

“Rogue is one of us!” Mystique shouted, leaping away from the weather controlling mutant’s attack while simultaneously evading the clusters of blinding lights that Jubilee threw in her direction. Mystique managed to side-step Jubilee, drop kicking the smaller woman, and slamming the bottom of her palm hard in an upwards strike under the younger X-Man’s chin. Jubilee stumbled, wiping away some blood from the side of her mouth, grinning.

Jubilee always preferred hand to hand combat, anyway.

Rogue turned her attention to the X-Men leader, whipping charged card after charged card at him, hair blowing about her face, reflecting her malevolence. Cyclops blocked each of her attacks with precision shots of his optic blasts, careful to not harm her.

“Stop it, Anna!” He jumped back as she bore down on him, her onslaught deadlier with each step she took. “Why are you attacking us?”

Rogue continued to advance on him, incensed. “My name is Rogue! And y’all are the ones attackin’ my home, my family!” she screamed before throwing a volley of charged cards that encircled him. Nightcrawler grabbed Cyclops and teleported him away before the slips of paper set off in a powerful explosion, blowing a crater into the ground.

Rogue spun on her heel and back-flipped away from Colossus’s attempt to grab her. “Stop this, Rogue,” the steel skinned giant implored to her. “We are here to rescue you!” The Russian backed her into Beast who caught her, trying to determine what could have gotten into his young friend as she struggled in his arms, his fur protecting him from her bare hands.

“Anna, you must desist!”

She grabbed his tele-link and charged it. “Momma was the one who rescued me, and now y’all want to take me away! Ah won’t let you!” Beast was forced to use one arm to tear away the communication device from his ear before it exploded and she took advantage, swinging her arm back to slam her elbow against the side of his head, making him release her.

Nightcrawler and Cyclops reappeared by Gambit’s side. The teleporter checked the Cajun’s pulse and shook his head, worry etched on his face. “Ve have got to get this poor fellow to a sick bay, Cyclops.”

Cyclops nodded tersely in agreement and Nightcrawler teleported Gambit to the interior of the Blackbird, quickly returning to retrieve Beast. Once in the jet, the doctor immediately began to administer emergency care, hooking the critically injured mutant with oxygen. He inserted several intravenous needles into the unconscious man to begin pumping steroids in an attempt to rip open Gambit’s shrunken veins, gravely telling Cyclops via Nightcrawler’s tele-link, “We’ve got to get Gambit back to New York right away. It’s not good.”

Seeing Mystique surrounded by the remaining powerful mutants, Rogue sprinted towards her, her entire body lighting up in an ominous purplish hue, her hands holding all the remaining cards in her possession. The building strength of the charge lit up everything around them.

Jubilee yelled, “Don’t do it, Rogue!” Her own hands lit in lights, and she turned to Cyclops for direction, terrified. Cyclops placed his hand on the side of his visor. He had no choice. He needed to strike Rogue down.

Suddenly a powerful roar could be heard and Rogue fell hard to the ground, side tackled by a recovered Wolverine.

“Sorry, darlin’,” was all Rogue heard before a fist crashed across her jaw. The charge around her body dissipated at the contact and she dropped to ground, limp. Breathing hard, Wolverine pulled her into his arms, frowning at the ugly bruise that was already forming on her face. His head snapped up, hearing the sounds of helicopters in the distance.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.’s contacting us,” Nightcrawler informed them through tele-link, as he powered up the Blackbird. “They want Rogue.”

Wolverine growled. He lifted Rogue protectively in his arms and began to run towards the jet, the rest of the X-Men close behind him.

“We’re leaving Mystique and the Brotherhood to Colonel Fury and his team,” Cyclops informed the German. “Rogue’s coming with us.”


*****


Blindspot was angry.

Watching the X-Men’s jet rise into the air, she waited until it blasted away before quickly touching Spiral and Pyro and sprinting to the nearby Mississippi River. She wasn’t surprised to find Mystique waiting for her in the speedboat Gambit had used to race up from the Louisiana basin.

An elegant eyebrow arched at her. “You appear displeased, child.”

Blindspot glared at her. “I needed more time. I was forced to wake her up to help you. You said you had everything under control.”

“I underestimated the X-Men’s resourcefulness,” Mystique responded with an edge in her voice, thinking of the Guild leader. She started the engine. “Did you remove Spiral’s and Pyro’s memories of our little escapade?”

“Yes.”

“Do they have any memory of Daken?”

The younger woman’s face darkened. “None at all.”

“Good.” Mystique morphed into the form of an old man, and threw a blanket for Blindspot to hide under, pulling away slowly from the dock as helicopters flew in the air over them to land at their now abandoned former home.

Melanie closed her eyes, her entire body shaking.

Oh, Anna Marie. What have I done?

Rogue was on the floor of the cell, legs pulled up against her.

She stared at the men standing outside the sound-proof glass walls, her heart beating so fast she thought it was going to explode. The three in black leather uniforms each had their arms folded across their chest, standing in front of an older bald man who she assumed was in charge. Based on the hard expression on his face, he wasn’t too happy with whatever it was they were saying. The big blue furry one had an earnest look on his face as he spoke, making the bald man nod his head in quick understanding while the one with the red visor must have been adding his own comments because the same man would every so often glance at his direction in acknowledgment. She couldn’t hear their conversation, but it was obvious the overly side-burned one was the angriest of them, the muscles of his back tense, his entire body tight and still. She felt herself drawn to him, and was surprised when he suddenly turned to look at her.

His concerned frown wasn’t what she expected.

She looked away quickly and hugged her knees more tightly to her. How could that guy be breathing, let alone standing, after what she did to him? She practically blew him apart; the condition of his destroyed uniform was evidence enough that he should be dead and yet, there he was, wound-free. She stared at her hands, relieved that she was no longer able to draw on that Cajun’s mutation. If she had known how powerful his mutation was, she would have never touched him, she had been completely unprepared for the strength of it. An ugly wash of guilt came over her. She hadn’t anticipated him returning her kiss, it made the connection between them rip open and she took far more from him than she had intended. She closed her eyes to hold back the tears that flooded them, recalling how he had stared at her, genuinely shocked that she had hurt him. He had been in excruciating pain before she let him go, and when that guy with the claws stepped towards her instead of back like his friends, she had lashed out at him more from fear than anything else. She swallowed down the bile that rose up in her throat at the memory.

He should be in pieces.

She placed a hand on the side of her face, testing it for a soreness that should have been there. His punch had hurt. There should be some pain at least, but all she felt was the coolness of her skin. From the corner of her eye, Rogue could see that the strange haired man was still staring at her, taking in every move she was making so she turned her back to him, uncomfortable under the weight of his stare. She leaned her forehead against the wall of the small cell.

Rogue was so confused.

Where was she? Who were these men? Where was her mother? Where was Irene? Were they okay? Why were they attacked? Who was that strange mutant fighting alongside her mother? How did she end up back in her bedroom in Natchez? Rising panic began to shudder through her and Rogue squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to take a deep breath.


Okay, Miss Anna Marie Darkholme. Calm down. Let’s try this again.


She focused.


I was running out of a dark alley, feeling scared. And guilty.


But why?


Cody. Ah almost killed Cody.


Anguish flood through her – but the memory stood out on its own - by itself - with nothing following it and it felt very, very old. Why were her memories so disjointed? How was she in Momma’s arms sobbing one minute after the ambulance took her boyfriend away, to her suddenly being in some alleyway in New York City running like her life depended on it? What happened in between? Why was she in New York? What was she doing there? How did she get there?


Alaska.


She was trying to get to Alaska. She remembered making it past the Canadian border and finally reaching Laughlin City, a place that turned out to be a tiny town in the middle of Alberta instead of the bustling metropolis she had been hoping for.


Eight months.


She had been on the road for eight, long, lonely, scary, horrible months…


Don’t think about that. Don’t.


Rogue began to rub circles overtop her knees with open palms, fingers spread out like starfish, her hands shaking. She soothed herself, willing away the images, huffing air in and out of her mouth, reminding herself that she didn’t have to look; she didn’t have to remember what she didn’t want to.


I walked into that bar – there was some commotion going on in the back inside some kind of cage – god, I was so hungry - and then…and then…


…she was back home, waking up to find her home under attack.


No. That didn’t make sense. Something was wrong. Something was missing. A lot was missing.


Rogue caught her reflection against the glass, touching the image in front of her with her fingers, matching the tips to their mirrored counterparts. She wasn’t surprised that she didn’t look sixteen years old. In fact, she didn’t feel like a teenager at all. She pulled at the streak of long white hair at the front of her head with her still shaking fingers.


And where the hell did this come from?


Just hearing her own thoughts was beginning to freak her out. What happened to all the voices in her head? Where did they all go? The constant low lying buzz that had always hovered at her consciousness was completely gone – no random shouts, no repeated recriminations, no vicious accusations from the crowd of personalities that she had added to exponentially over the course of her months on the run- even Cody’s voice was gone. She closed her eyes and listened.


~ Don’t be so afraid, petit. ~


There he was. Everyone was gone except for him. Rogue caught her breath, hearing his deep, unfamiliar masculine voice. From the moment she had woken up, the Cajun tried to talk to her, tried to convince her to listen to him. At first he yelled at her when she ignored him, they always did, but she easily shut him behind the wall she had built to keep all the personalities at bay. Now he was being very cautious, pushing forward slowly to keep her attention.


~ Remy can help you. ~


Rogue whimpered suddenly, grabbing at her tangled hair. He was one of them. He didn’t want to help her, he wanted to hurt her. They always wanted to hurt her.


~ Non, my love. S’no true. ~


What? Was this guy crazy? He was probably dead because of her, and he was calling her his “love”? There was a moment’s silence before she heard him again.


~ Can’t t’ink of a better way to go, cher. ~


Her hands stopped shaking. He was actually flirting with her?


~ Come on, Rogue. Look at de memories Remy has of you. ~


She found herself hesitating. She was about to shut him away again but she realized with not a little amount of shock, that he wasn’t upset with her. Why wasn’t he angry? They were always angry, they always hated her. Why was he being so…nice?

She continued to pull at her hair, needing the constant movement of her hands. Maybe his memories could at least explain why he seemed to know her – why the others seemed to know her. Maybe she could find out what they wanted from her.


~ Trust me, bebe. ~ His voice became tender, sincere.


His tone of familiarity made her angry. No. She wouldn’t trust him. The Rogue didn’t trust anyone, but she decided to look into his memories. She needed some answers.

Taking a deep breath, she reached inside her mind. She clumsily knocked aside images of what looked like New Orleans - a woman with blonde hair - a strange pallid-skinned man with a red diamond set on his forehead – and many, many women in many, many compromising positions. She could have sworn she heard him laugh in amusement to her embarrassed gasp, but when she stopped to listen, she was met with silence.

Blushing, she continued, finding a lot of memories that meant absolutely nothing to her until she finally found an image of a woman that looked like her. As soon as she focused on it, the others immediately fell away back into the recesses of her mind.

She saw the woman with a group of young children in a playroom, obviously in charge of them. She had the same hair as her but it was shorter, the white stripe cut into bangs. She seemed annoyed with the Cajun, but there was affection in her eyes when she shooed him away. The image faded away to another and the same woman was smiling and laughing with him, clearly enjoying his company outside a huge, ivy-covered mansion. They were chasing each other through piles of leaves that had fallen from large maple trees that ringed the estate, him easily catching her and throwing her repeatedly into the orange and yellow foliage.

No, not a mansion. A school. A school for mutant children.

More memories wrapped around her consciousness, coming hard and fast now. They were part of a team, called the X-Men. Images of some of the mutants that she fought with earlier came into focus, now, interacting with her, clearly caring for her. They were her friends. Good friends.

No, they were more than that. They were her family.

One image rushed forward, fervent and vivid. She flushed in reaction to the harsh sexual attraction that coursed through her, seeing him look at the woman with deep wanting. Her breath hitched, seeing him place a sheer scarf across her face in a darkened church and stunned, she saw him kiss her.

Remy Etienne LeBeau had loved her.


~ Dis one has missed you, petit. ~ His voice was soft. Sad.


She swallowed hard, feeling his pain.

But that was impossible. That woman who skated away from him after telling him it was over between them couldn’t be her. She had never seen him before tonight. She had never seen any of these people before tonight. Shouldn’t she have the same memories as him if that woman really was her? Shouldn’t she be able to remember at least something?

Another image flashed in front of her and she felt his jealousy wash over her, hot and fierce.

The Cajun was kissing her under a Christmas tree and was keeping his eyes on someone. Wolverine. So that was his name. This Wolverine was watching them, and he looked upset. The woman looked upset as well, pulling away from the Cajun and storming from the room to go outside. She looked more than upset. She looked furious.


~ Ignore dat, cher. ~ Remy sounded angry.


Images flew at her – Wolverine pushing her behind him when the Cajun tried to kiss her – watching the Wolverine carrying her away, fainted in his arms – watching the Wolverine and her sitting at a table from across a cafeteria-like room – watching the Wolverine chase after her when she had went outside after Remy kissed her under that Christmas tree – Remy blasting the Wolverine through a wall of windows – Remy blaming the Wolverine for him losing her…

His emotions became too intense, overwhelming her, and she pushed his memories away from her consciousness with a barely suppressed cry. She returned to rubbing her knees again, breathing faster, lightheaded and nauseous.

She couldn’t connect to anything, couldn’t identify with the woman in his memories. She couldn’t make any sense of what she just saw and to what she could remember on her own. The woman in his memories looked to be the same age as she was now, but how was that possible when the Cajun’s memories were almost ten years old? He looked older now, yet that man he called the Wolverine looked the same age as he did in the Cajun’s memories as well.

It didn’t make sense. It didn’t.

She grabbed her head again, her mind reeling from all the inconsistencies. Remy pushed forward, trying to comfort her but she pushed him away behind the wall she had erected, his protests muffled and undecipherable once more.

She started shaking again.


Where are you, Momma? Ah need you.

“We had to keep Anna under heavy sedation the entire time it took for us to get back here.” Hank’s voice was even, but anger was there as well. “Why were we kept unaware of her acquired feral mutation, Charles? If Logan hadn’t informed us of her healing factor, we would have had a nasty in-flight surprise.”

Charles Xavier was looking at Rogue, watching her dig her fingers into her hair, his frown deepening at her thoughts. Realizing that the doctor expected an answer, he responded, “I respected her wishes, Henry. She didn’t want anyone to know.”

Scott turned to look at her as well, his heart squeezing at the sight of her curled into herself. “What else don’t we know, Professor?”

“That’s classified, Cyclops.” The tall figure of Colonel Nick Fury strode into the room, instructing the two S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers beside him to stand guard outside. As the large metal doors re-shut behind him, he turned to face the four men.

“We’re here for Rogue, Xavier. Your X-Men did not have the authority to take her into custody.”

They all heard the growl.

“Yer askin’ for a whole lotta hurtin’ Nick if you think we’re handin' her over to you,” Logan snarled at him, taking a menacing step towards the S.H.I.E.L.D director. Every nerve ending in his body strummed with the need for violence. He was spoiling for a fight and the person responsible for not having Marie properly guarded was the perfect candidate for it.

“Are you threatening a federal officer, Howlett?” The Colonel stood to his full height, the eye not covered by a black patch shining over in anger.

“Need it repeated in stupidese, Fury?” Logan took a step forward.

Nick Fury stepped forward as well, nostrils flaring. “Anina was under our protection at the time of her abduction and we were on our way to retrieving her. You X-Men interfered in S.H.I.E.L.D. business, and left the scene with her when we expressly instructed you not to.”

Charles placed his hands on the shoulders of both men, recognizing that neither would back down from their now nose to nose stances without some intervention.

“While I can certainly appreciate your position, Colonel Fury, Rogue’s membership with the X-Men has never been terminated,” he informed the S.H.I.E.L.D. director, relieved when Logan stepped back first. “She may not have been an active member of the alpha team, but she’s remained an affiliate of ours all the same.” The colonel considered his words, breathing heavily for a few moments before speaking again.

“We need to talk privately, Charles.” He pointedly ignored the other men.

Charles shook his head definitively. “Rogue is in no condition to have her involvement with S.H.I.E.L.D. remain classified. My X-Men need to know.” Nick Fury stared at him and then swore under his breath, angry.

“That is not your call to make, Xavier!”

“Godammit, one of you had better start talkin’!” Logan shouted, stepping forward again, the glint of his claws appearing on the surface of his skin. Scott and Hank didn’t move to stop him, his frustration mirrored on their own faces. They wanted answers as well.

Nick Fury glowered at the professor, his disapproval obvious. Finally, he looked to the other men and said through gritted teeth. “I don’t care who or what you dip your dicks in, I swear, I’ll have your nut sacks if you repeat what I have to say to anyone. Understood?”

Logan grunted. Scott and Hank nodded tersely.

Satisfied, Colonel Fury revealed, “Your prisoner has been working as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent for the past ten years. This was in exchange for intel on potential premature mutant manifestations in children. S.H.I.E.L.D keeps files on certain families who display genetic predispositions for the X-factor gene, much like the Guthrie family. Your Cerebro can only detect the X-gene after the mutancy manifests itself and unfortunately by that time, many children disappear, usually at the hands of their own families. With the information we are able to provide her, Rogue has been given a better chance of interceding before that can happen.”

Hank was confused. “I don’t understand. Why the secrecy? Recovering mutant children in danger is part of what the X-Men do, Colonel.”

Nick Fury looked quickly to the professor. Logan’s eyes narrowed.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.’s mandate is to respond and neutralize threats against the American people within our country’s borders,” the colonel responded carefully. “I am sure you gentleman can appreciate that these threats mostly originate outside of the United States. As Anina, Rogue was in a unique position to assist S.H.I.E.L.D. on missions outside of our jurisdiction, as a covert operative.”

“Oh my stars and garters!” Beast was incredulous. “All that time when Anna was pursuing her operatic career, she was an international S.H.I.E.L.D. spy?”

Logan’s simmering anger was threatening to boil over and his voice reflected it. “You should have told us, Chuck.”

“All of you can deal with that later,” Nick Fury interrupted, impatient. “For now, it’s best the X-Men stand aside and allow S.H.I.E.L.D. to take Rogue into custody, especially in light of her association with the Brotherhood.”

Cyclops looked as though he had been struck. “All this time Rogue was a member of the Brotherhood?”

Professor Xavier shook his head. “No, Scott. As I’ve explained before, Rogue was unaware of her past with Mystique and her associates when we first encountered her and Logan all those years ago. I think it’s safe to assume that Mystique had been unaware of it as well, considering what transpired at the Statue of Liberty in New York City.”

“That doesn’t excuse her being involved with the Brotherhood, Charles.”

Logan turned to the X-Men leader, surprised. “Rogue was just a scared kid, One-Eye. She didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” Scott looked away, grappling with the information that the woman he loved was associated with the organization who played a major role in Jean’s death. But a bigger part of him was upset that Anna hadn’t confided in him. She hid so many things from him. What else didn’t he know about the woman he had wanted to spend the rest of his life with?

Ignoring him, Logan fixed his eyes on the S.H.I.E.L.D. director. “Why did you drag Rogue into your shit, Fury? Couldn’t you have just given her the information without needin’ to put her in danger?”

“Don’t drop that in my lap, Logan. Rogue was the one who approached S.H.I.E.L.D. to offer her services in exchange for access to my agency’s resources, not the other way around. If anything, take it up with Tony Stark. He was her contact, not me.”

The professor put out his hands, stopping them from arguing further. “It’s all a mute point now gentlemen. Rogue no longer has any recollection of her activities with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Logan’s ears pulled back, sharply looking at the telepath. Professor Xavier was grim-faced as he told them, “Rogue’s memories from the time she arrived in Canada when she was a teenager, up until the X-Men’s arrival to retrieve her last night, are gone.”

Logan felt ice run down his spine at his words. He kept his eyes pinned on Charles as he continued.

“The woman sitting beside Rogue at the Senate hearing is a mutant. Her mutation is the ability to steal and plant memories by touch,” the professor explained. “Rogue’s memories are not hidden somewhere in her mind, they are quite literally, gone. There are only outlines of where memories should be, empty impressions, if you will. This woman has Rogue’s memories and she alone can return them.” He turned to Nick Fury. “The information I gave you based on what Rogue was able to transmit to me prior to her abduction is all that I have. Unfortunately, this Blindspot has removed all memory of her existence from Rogue once again.”

The colonel nodded, offering, “S.H.I.E.L.D.’s already working on it, Charles. Both Pyro and Spiral have no recollection of Blindspot, apparently she’s removed all memory of their part in what’s transpired so they are useless to us. Wiping away memories of her existence, and her activities, is this mutant’s calling card. Lucky for us, she didn’t anticipate Rogue’s ability to reach out to you as quickly as she did. We’ll get her. This Melanie Doonan will be found.”

Meanwhile, Logan was raking his fingers through his hair, the implications of what the professor had said beginning to sink in. “What about Rogue’s mutation? Does she still have access to Ms Marvel’s powers?”

“Without the memory of their encounter, there is nothing for her to draw on. Your mutation is clearly still prevalent as evidenced by the rapid healing of her broken jaw and her resistance to sedation, but then again, she was never able to shut it off like she could with Ms Marvel’s powers.” The professor took a deep breath, a haggard look coming over his face. “Rogue’s mutation has regressed back to the state it was when you first met her, Logan. The memory of when she gained control over her skin has been taken as well.”

Logan felt the air in his lungs suck right out of him. He couldn’t breathe. He heard someone gasp beside him.

“You’re able to help her, right?”

“I will certainly try, Scott.” But everyone in the room knew he wasn’t optimistic.

Logan moved away from the group to stand at the door of Rogue’s cell. She was still in the same position he last saw her in, squeezed into the corner of the small cell, face turned away. She looked so small, so defenseless. He pressed his palm against the cool pane of the glass, the conversation continuing behind him.

“Rogue has to come with us, Charles. This evening’s events have demonstrated her allegiance to Mystique and to the Brotherhood.” The S.H.I.E.L.D. director was trying to remain calm, but was failing. “We are taking her, effective immediately.”

“Rogue is an X-Man,” Logan heard Scott say firmly. “We take care of our own. She stays with us.”

“You can’t let your personal feelings blind you to the seriousness of the situation, Scott,” Nick Fury argued. “She is an enemy combatant on United States soil. And as such, must be held in S.H.I.E.L.D custody.”

Logan watched Rogue slowly stand up, and he reacted to the sight of the familiar curves that shaped her, the black leather cat-suit tight around her. She walked towards him and pressed her palm against his on the other side of the thick glass, keeping her eyes on his. He searched for any sign that she recognized him, looking down into their dark green depths, but he only saw resentment and anger.

Her eyes narrowed and with deliberate exaggeration, she mouthed the words, “Ah’m coming for you first.”

He pressed a finger along the glass where her cheek was closest, as if caressing it, despite the thick barrier between them. Face softened by his love for her, he mouthed back, “You better, darlin’.”

Her eyes registered surprise, then confusion. The expression on her face became vulnerable and she twisted away from him, digging her nails into her scalp, as though trying to rip out her thoughts. He watched her, every muscle strung tightly in reaction to her turmoil, heart squeezing in his chest seeing her suffer. Becoming angry, she snarled and pulled back her fist, slamming it against the thick glass.

Six claws sliced through the skin between her knuckles. Rogue stared at the bone extrusions, eyes widening at the blood that poured from the wounds they created. She looked to him, face paling, then back to her hands.

She screamed.

Logan desperately tried to open the door, keeping his eyes on Rogue as she backed away from him, tears streaming down her face. She fell against the far wall of the cell, pupils dilated in horror, her entire body beginning to shake violently. She was going into shock. The sound of his claws unsheathing alerted the other occupants in the room.

“Don’t,” Colonel Fury shouted in warning. “We don’t know what she’s capable of!”

With a roar, Logan smashed through the door, sending the other men ducking for cover as shards of broken glass showered down around them. He stormed into the cell and grabbed hold of Rogue’s wrists, careful to avoid her skin.

“It’s okay, Marie. It’s okay.” He held her hands up, careful to keep the sharp claws that protruded from them away from her. He caught her eyes with his and she stared at him, terrified.

“What did you do to me? Ah’m a… a…” Her eyes widened even further. “Ah’m a monster!” Her voice rose hysterically and she tried to pull away, her genuine fear of him breaking his heart. The others encircled them, alert.

Logan crossed her arms over her chest and spun her around, pulling her back up against him to effectively still her movements. He dropped to the ground and pulled her onto his lap, whispering in her ear through the curtain of her hair, “Just breathe darlin’, breathe. Everythin’s going to be alright.”

Rogue closed her eyes, not understanding why she believed him, not understanding why her instincts insisted she trust him, not understanding why just his scent alone was calming her down. The bone claws slipped back into her forearms and she collapsed against him, weeping.

“What’s happening to me?” She sounded broken.

Logan tightened his hold, rocking her back and forth comfortingly. His eyes shot up to Colonel Fury, the challenge in them clear. With a sigh, the S.H.I.E.L.D. director turned to Professor Xavier.

“It’s on you, Charles. We’ll be watching.”

Professor Xavier said nothing in response as the uniformed man left the room, keeping his eyes on the young woman crying wretchedly in the Wolverine’s arms.

After two full days of secluded sessions with Professor Xavier, Rogue was released without restriction from the lower levels of the mansion. He refused the X-Men’s offer to have Rogue touch them to compensate for the theft of her own memories, the chance of Rogue losing control like she did ten years ago prompting his caution. The added strain of their powerful mutations could set her back in coming to terms with what was stolen from her, and he didn’t want Rogue struggling any more than she already was.

And she was struggling. Badly.

Discovering her beloved foster mother was one of the most nefarious mutants in the world and that her Auntie Irene had died years ago devastated her. Knowing that her father passed away as well further exacerbated the precarious hold she had on reality, having no memory of their reconciliation to console her. Everyone agreed that revealing the last fifteen years of Rogue’s life would add more stress to the already tremendous chaos within her mind, the potential of a complete mental breakdown very real.

Rogue kept to herself, gently rebuffing everyone’s attempts to engage her in the daily routine of the somewhat empty mansion now that it was summer. She appreciated their efforts in trying to make her feel welcome in the large school, but she preferred solitude, immersed in her tearless grief.


*****


Rogue knew they were watching her.

The professor every so often checked up on her telepathically - always polite, always asking for permission before entering her mind, patient and kind in his dealings with her. But the others, they were always around. They were never too obvious, never close enough to disturb her, but still – they were there, taking turns, standing guard. She didn’t know if it was for her protection or for theirs, but if the behavior of the X-Men leader was anything to go by, it was definitely for theirs.

The distrust and anger he exhibited towards her in comparison to the affection and concern the others felt confused her. It was when he had found her standing by the beautiful statue in the middle of the back garden that she discovered why. He had stormed outside, very upset, telling her in a barely civil voice to go back inside the mansion, his entire body visibly shaking. Finding out that the stone angel was erected in memory of his dead fiancée helped her understand somewhat, but when Jubilee went on to explain that she had died while with the Brotherhood, Rogue understood completely.

She avoided Cyclops after that.

As she made her way towards the elevator that would take her down to the sublevels of the school, her thoughts turned to the one person she hadn’t seen since the night of her rescue. The Wolverine. She learned from the professor that he had left to join the Avengers in locating the person responsible for stealing away most of her past and although she wanted to ask if he would be returning, she didn’t.

Rogue cringed, pushing the button that would take her to the sickbay floor with more force than was needed. God, she had clung to him. She could only imagine what he thought of her, bawling like a baby the way she did.

The Rogue does not cry.

And yet she did, just like that, falling apart because some stranger she tried to kill told her everything was going to be alright. How embarrassingly pathetic.

The doors swished open and she strode purposefully through the wide hallway, shaking her head clear. Maybe it was better he wasn’t around – she didn’t want to be reminded of being such a wimp.

Affection flooded through her as she stood by the observation window, watching the blue furred doctor administer various blood tests on Gambit. Rogue liked spending time with the red-eyed mutant. She visited him every day, still guilty but so grateful he didn’t hate her when he had finally woken up from the coma she put him in. His memories had comforted her during the brief time she had access to them and knowing he at one time cared for her despite her poisonous skin made her feel close to him. That he was really cute helped.

Rogue lifted her hand in greeting when the two men caught sight of her, eagerly making her way to into the room when the doctor nodded to her in permission.

“Ah, der is mon ange. Come close, cher. Your pretty face can distract Remy from dis poking vampire.”

Blushing, she walked towards his bed and smiled shyly at the doctor’s warm greeting. As soon as she was within reach, Gambit took her gloved hand in his and fastened his remarkable eyes on her.

“Is dis a good day or bad day, petit?” His handsome face was soft with concern.

Rogue shrugged and resisted the urge to pull her hand away, not used to how comfortable he was touching her. “Ah’m okay.” She forced herself to smile brighter. “Thanks for asking.”

Remy LeBeau returned her smile, dimples relieving the gauntness in his cheeks. “As soon as dis one is free, we go out for some fun, hmm?” His eyes fell to her lips, before lifting back up to catch hers. Rogue’s face burned, her stomach filling with butterflies.

“That will be at least a couple of days yet, Gambit,” the doctor said sternly before turning his attention to Rogue. “Have you thought about joining Ororo and I for dinner this evening, my dear?”

She pulled her hand from Gambit’s grip, eliciting a disappointed frown from him. Rogue nodded, curling her hair behind her ear. “That would be nice Dr. McCoy, thank you.”

Beast beamed at her. “Wonderful! We’ll retrieve you at your quarters at 6pm sharp. For now, unfortunately, Mr. LeBeau needs his rest.”

His patient protested, dramatically declaring it was necessary to his recovery that she stayed by his side, but even Rogue could see how tired Remy was. After assuring him she would return the next day, Rogue turned to leave, a small smile lingering at her lips. He was a charmer, this Remy LeBeau. It was easy to see how she could have fallen under his spell all those years ago.


*****


Charles shut the journal closed with a frustrated snap, his face tight with worry. It was happening. Despite everything he did over the years to prevent it, somehow, someway, the future described on its weathered pages was coming true. He lowered himself slowly into the upholstered leather chair in his office and pressed the bottom of his palms against his eyes, the stress of the past week feeding the dark circles under them.

He had been wrong. He should have told Anna about the existence of Destiny’s diary. The perfect opportunity would have been when Willowbend Academy first opened, after she admitted to him her ability to access the powers of mutants she touched. He told her that he had known, had known all along, but what he didn’t tell her was that he had known many, many years earlier, recuperating on Muir Island while the world thought him dead.

Dr. Moira MacTaggart had given him the diary immediately after he awoke in his brain dead brother’s body, shocked because it predicted he would, regretful she hadn’t given it to him in time to prevent Jean Grey’s death. His old friend had assumed the journal contained the written ramblings of a dying madwoman in her care two years earlier, completely unaware it had in fact been filled with fastidiously documented predictions of a possible future.

Sighing, Charles Xavier returned the diary back into its hiding place in the bookcase behind him, the burden of this secret weighing on him more than all the others. The hologram receptor at the corner of his desk began to beep and Charles activated it, knowing who it would be.

“What’s her progress, Xavier?”

Charles sat back down on his chair and looked at the image of Colonel Fury hovering above the machine. “Rogue remains the same, Colonel.”

Nick Fury frowned. “So she still can’t access her previously absorbed mutations?”

The professor paused, an unpleasant hum niggling at the back of his mind. The missions Rogue took on for S.H.I.E.L.D in the last couple of years had become increasingly dangerous and it led to her being forced to tap into the mutations she had at her disposal. It was only a matter of time before the colonel and Tony Stark became aware of her ability and when they did, they insisted she join the Avengers. Rogue declined, repeatedly, wanting her evolved powers to remain secret, but S.H.I.E.L.D. continually tried to enlist her into their own superhero team ever since. That was the real reason Colonel Fury wanted Rogue in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody after her abduction.

Professor Xavier frowned himself. Rogue becoming an Avenger would never happen.

“No. And I won’t be suggesting she try, Colonel. It’s best for everyone she remain ignorant.”

“And that includes your X-Men? You do realize that Logan knows you are keeping something from your team.”

“Yes, yes, I am very aware of that,” snapped the professor with uncharacteristic annoyance. “I hardly need to remind you that an Omega Level mutant would be an incredible weapon in the wrong hands. The less people know of Rogue’s Level Five capabilities, the better. Quite frankly Colonel, Rogue has been in grave danger ever since you and Mr. Stark discovered her evolved mutation. Thankfully the safeguards I placed in her mind held during her ordeal.”

“Relax, Charles. The alias Rogue uses for S.H.I.E.L.D. is in no way tied to her other identities. There will always be that failsafe as well.”

The professor’s face hardened. He wasn’t so sure anymore.

The colonel changed the subject, seeing how upset the other man was getting. “With Wolverine’s assistance, we have been able to determine that Blindspot escaped with Mystique by way of the Mississippi River up to Memphis where they both boarded a private jet headed for Japan on the same night of the abduction. He’s informed us this morning that he will not be joining the team we have assembled to apprehend them."

That surprised Charles. “Why?”

“He’s confident that the Black Widow and Iron Man will be able to do so without his help.” The S.H.I.E.L.D. director leaned forward, his face grim. “A complication has developed, Charles. The Muramasa blade is missing.”

A few moments of silence passed. This was bad news. Very, very bad news. The professor forced himself to appear calm. “Logan is aware of this, I take it?”

Nick nodded. “Someone wants him dead, only fair we give him a head’s up. The blade’s ability to negate super-healing makes it the only weapon that can do the job.”

“Then it’s a good thing Logan is returning to New York. He is better protected here, with the X-Men.”

The colonel laughed, genuinely amused. “He’s not coming back for his protection. He’s coming back for Rogue’s. The Muramasa blade is capable of killing anyone with super healing powers and with its whereabouts unknown, every feral is unsafe until it’s found.”

The professor’s mind was in overdrive, the news adding to the growing list of predictions coming true. “Who had access to the blade?”

“The only person who had access and who we haven’t been able to locate is Norman Osborne,” answered the Colonel with an expression of distaste.

“The head of H.A.M.M.E.R ? Why would he want it?”

The colonel snorted. “Why wouldn’t he? There are scores of people in the world who want the Wolverine dead, Xavier, which always made the blade invaluable. In my opinion, Rogue’s abduction has Norman Osborne’s stench all over it. Osborne had been in private meetings with Senator Kelly all week leading up to the Mutant Registration Bill hearing trying to shore up support for his new agency and there’s no way Mystique and Blindspot could have gotten through S.H.I.E.L.D. security without some inside help. We find him, we’ll find Blindspot.”

Charles agreed. “When should I expect Wolverine’s return?"

“The day after tomorrow. Interestingly, Emma Frost has requested he visit her in Boston before making his way back to Westchester. You wouldn’t happen to know why she is so anxious to see him, do you Charles?” Nick’s voice held more than just a trace of suspicion.

The professor’s face was neutral. “I am not all-knowing, Colonel.”

“Right. Of course not.” The sardonic sentence was the last thing Charles heard before Nick Fury’s image flickered away.

Charles steepled his fingers under his chin. Everything was happening quicker than he anticipated. He hadn’t been looking forward to telling Logan what Emma had revealed to him yesterday, and he was glad the blonde-haired telepath realized it was best Logan heard the news from her directly. With these new developments, it was a good thing Logan was coming back. He was needed here.

Charles thought of Rogue again. Just that morning she easily relearned how to create a psychic box for the inner Gambit in her mind, impressing him with her prowess. Keeping her unaware that she had one time been able to touch was turning out to be a necessary kindness. After he taught her how to shut the Gambit in her mind away, she asked if he could also teach her to control her skin, the yearning and desperation in her voice heartbreaking. When Charles had to admit he couldn’t, the brief flicker of hope in her eyes had been replaced by such brutal despondency that her projected misery almost brought him to his knees. After that, he couldn’t find it in himself to tell her she used to have control. It would have been too cruel.

Hot anger coursed though him. It was all so unfair.

She heard the music before the elevator doors opened, the soft sound of violins and a lone harp drifting towards her from the end of the hallway. Drawn to the sweet music, she walked past the sick bay and entered what appeared to be a laboratory. Rogue recognized the beginning of an aria emitting from a small speaker set on top of a desk hidden underneath piles of paper. Seeing no one, she closed her eyes to let the beautiful melody cascade over her.

Rogue remembered the lyrics of Puccini’s “O Mio Babbino Caro” and she began to sing. She was shocked at the sound that came out of her, powerful and strong, shocked at the vocal range she was able to express. The memory of singing for Monsieur Tremblant, her old vocal instructor, exploded vibrantly across her mind. She recalled with perfect clarity how he chose this aria for her first performance as “Lauretta” in front of the boarding school she attended as a young child. Only now, her lungs were able to support the demanding breaths and sustained notes that as a child she could only attempt, her tessitura perfectly achieving and mastering the alternating notes throughout the two and a half minute piece.

It felt wonderful - it was amazing - it was as though she had never stopped, and damn, she was good! She pressed her hands to her chest, aware of the group of people who had gathered at the doorway behind her and she spun around to face them, catching her breath. Dr. McCoy, Colossus and Kurt clapped loudly, while Remy sat in his wheelchair looking absolutely gob smacked.

Laughing, Rogue exclaimed, “Ah can sing!”

Hank walked into the room and turned off the music he had left on his desk, smiling at her declaration. “Yes, that you most definitely can. Your vocal ability clearly hasn’t been affected by the removal of your memories.”

Rogue’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You knew Ah could sing? You’ve heard me sing before?”

Kurt laced his three fingers through his foster sister’s five, leading her past a still stunned and speechless Remy LeBeau. “Ja, mein liebchen, the entire vorld has heard you. Come vith me ‘Anina’. You and I have a date vith YouTube.”

Rogue spent the afternoon with the teleporter watching performance after performance of her singing in different opera houses throughout the world, feeling like she had fallen into some strange, parallel universe. There was nothing of her in this “Anina”, nothing at all outside of sharing a childhood nickname. Staring at the screen in front of her, Rogue felt even more removed from the woman she used to be.


*****


Public outrage over the abduction of Anina necessitated the holding a press conference. It was explained by Tony Stark that S.H.I.E.L.D., along with the assistance of the X-Men, had rescued the famous soprano from an organization intent on fracturing the relationship between mutants and humans. The incident was spin-doctored as a shining example of co-operation between the two factions for the greater good, and the rising tide of hatred towards mutants subsided temporarily once more. The Senate hearings on the proposed Mutant Registration Bill were quietly postponed, and the nation turned its attention to the upcoming presidential elections in November.

It was not good news for everyone.

“I am not happy, Daken.”

Daken was sitting on a white wraparound leather sofa facing a large bay of windows that overlooked the Tokyo harbor and Rainbow Bridge. He absently stroked his tie, and stretched his other arm over the back of the seat before settling his eyes on the shadowed figure across from him.

“Yes, I assumed you would not be.”

Norman Osborne regarded the sharply dressed man in front of him for a few moments before speaking again. “How do you plan on rectifying this situation?”

“I have brought in two other members to join your new team in place of the two who have refused, Osborne. Mystique and Blindspot will be powerful additions. Moonstar, Bullseye and Kimura are pleased with my choices.” Daken crossed one leg over the other, smoothing away the wrinkles that appeared on the expensive slacks that covered them. “My one regret is not taking the Rogue with me when I had the chance.”

The head of H.A.M.M.E.R. looked at him sharply. “The X-Men, let alone the original Avengers, would never have allowed her to join us. No. I will have to be satisfied with who you have managed to bring in, short the one mutant I really wanted.”

Daken shrugged. “I could go after the telepath. The way to catching your precious angel is through him.”

“That was never an option, Daken. You don’t want to cross paths with Charles Xavier.”

“Crossing my path is just as inadvisable.” Menace was laced in every word.

Norman Osborne smiled placatingly. “You don’t have to convince me, Daken. You are after all, your father’s son.”

In an instant, blackened claws were pressing into the skin of his throat.

“I am not his son.”

The former Green Goblin fought the compulsion to swallow, knowing the small movement would cause the sharp talons to slice into his carotid artery. The enraged feral growled, satisfied with the level of terror emanating from the cowed man and stepped back, returning the deadly weapons into his forearms with an audible snap.

Threat removed, the H.A.M.M.E.R. director cleared his throat and stood up unsteadily. He had forgotten he was dealing with a psychopath. “We’ll proceed as is.” He recovered his composure and reached out a hand to the still fuming mutant. “Although I didn’t get my ‘precious’ angel, you will still get your reward.”

Daken stared at the extended appendage, more inclined to slice it clean off its attached torso than to hold it. But he didn’t come this far to ruin everything over his daddy issues. The men shook hands.

“I can’t think of a better way to introduce yourself to the Wolverine, Daken.” This time, Norman Osborne’s smile was returned.


*****

Rogue raced towards the Danger Room, heart pounding and breath short. She pushed her hand against the cool metal doors, continuing her sprint into the room when they silently opened to let her in.

“Gambit?”

She was surrounded by overgrown oak trees, the synthesized night-sky clear and bright with stars. A full moon cast its light in front her, the unnaturally giant orb hanging impossibly low in the horizon. She sniffed. He was close by.

“'Ello, cher.”

Landing elegantly in front of her, the New Orleans thief stood to his full height before leaning on a fully extended staff beside him, eyes bright red against the darkness.

“Gambit!” Rogue launched herself at him, wrapping her arms about his waist and hugging him tightly, causing the startled mutant to step back and drop his staff. She laid her cheek against his body armored chest, grateful that he was finally out of the sick bay, ashamed that it was her fault he had been there at all.

Rogue loosened her hold to look up at him. “Ah’m so happy you’re okay. And Ah’m so sorry for what Ah did to you,” she told him, eyes full of guilt and remorse. “Ah can’t tell you how much.”

Gambit grinned, pulling her into his embrace, enjoying her unexpected outburst. “You’ve told Remy dat every day since dis one woke up, cher. But instead of tellin’, maybe you show, hmm?”

She smiled, responding to his scent thickening with desire, cutting her eyes flirtatiously at him. Seeing this, his own eyes flashed and he pressed his open palms against the small of her back to hold her more intimately against him.

“You are not authorized to be in the Danger Room.”

Rogue jumped out of Gambit’s arms, startled by the disembodied voice that exploded around them. She looked up to see Cyclops glaring down at her from the Control Room.

Unfazed, Gambit’s grin was still in place. “Don’t go too far, bebe.” With a wink, he picked up his staff and leapt into the dark shadows of the programmed environment, disappearing back into the strange fabricated landscape.

Rogue left the Danger Room, embarrassed. When she hadn't found Gambit in the sick bay, she searched for Dr. McCoy who informed her that Gambit had gotten up that morning and felt well enough to train. She was so excited by his unexpected rapid recovery that she ran straight to where he was. God, she was so stupid. She couldn’t just burst into rooms whenever she felt like it – this was a serious place for serious superheroes. What the hell was she thinking?

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Rogue made her way up to the Control Room to speak to the X-Men leader, ignoring the fact that she was probably the last person he wanted to see. She walked in quickly before she lost her nerve and Scott looked up from where he was sitting, surprised. Rogue forced herself to smile. She approached him, gripping her hands nervously behind her, realizing this was the first time she had been alone with him since he found her by Jean Grey’s memorial a few days ago. Her voice came out in a rush.

“Ah want to apologize, Mr. Summers. Ah just found out Gambit was released from the sick bay and Ah let my excitement get the best of me. That’s no excuse, Ah know, and Ah swear Ah’ll be more respectful of what you do here from now on.”

The tall man remained silent, making no movement to show he heard her. Rogue became more uncomfortable, unable to see his eyes through the ruby quartz visor she learned contained his concussive optic blast. Sympathy ran through her. “It must be awful, seeing the world in no other color but red.” Rogue slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified she said that out loud. “Ah meant no offence, Mr. Summers!”

Rogue turned to leave, completely mortified, but Scott was beside her in two long strides, grabbing her gloved hand to prevent her exit. “It’s alright, Rogue. It’s fine.” He kept his hold on her hand. “And call me Scott. My name is Scott.”

She let out a relieved sigh, glad the tension she smelled on him when she first stepped into the room was gone. “Scott. That’s a nice, strong name. Ah like it.”

The expression on his face softened and her eyes widened, caught off guard by the change in his scent. This man didn’t hate her. This man cared for her. A lot.

He abruptly dropped her hand and returned to his seat, speaking into the intercom. “I’m upping the program to Level Seven, Gambit.” He hit a few buttons and became engrossed in his notes and when he didn’t say anything more, she realized he was done speaking with her. Rogue felt anger rush through her, hot and enveloping. There seemed to be so many secrets, so many unfinished sentences in this place - from Ororo and Hank evading her questions about how she joined the X-Men to Kurt and Jubilee changing the subject whenever she talked about her unexpected feral mutation. She was getting sick of it.

Rogue closed her eyes, and willed herself to remain calm. “What are you hiding from me, Scott?”

He stilled, the papers he was rifling through caught between his fingers. She could hear his heart accelerate and Rogue kept her eyes trained on him, alert.

Scott didn’t look at her when he replied evenly, “I’m not hiding anything from you, Rogue. Half your life has been stolen away. Getting a crash course on those fifteen years isn’t a good idea considering your fragile state of mind.”

She could feel her ears burn, his words making her angrier. “Ah can understand that,” she told him slowly, keeping a lid on her temper. “But Ah’m not asking for a crash course on half my life. Ah am asking about you and me.”

Scott returned to his notes, looking annoyed and impatient, back to the Cyclops she knew. “Now isn’t a very good time for me, Rogue.”

She stepped in front of him, slamming her hand down on the papers, blocking his view of the Danger Room. “It’s a very good time for me, Scott.”

Rogue was unprepared when he suddenly stood up to tower over her. His frustration was clear. “Don’t push this, Rogue. I need to do what’s best for everyone.”

She looked up at him, bewildered by his behavior. “Ah don’t understand. The only memories Ah have of you are Gambit’s and you seemed to be my friend. Ah know you’re angry about Mystique and my life with the Brotherhood and Ah’m sorry for their part in your fiancee’s death, but Ah don’t know how to convince you that Ah’m not one of them. Please, if you’ve ever been my friend, if you ever cared for me, you have to believe me. Ah am not one of them.”

The muscles along his jaw were working furiously and she could see his eyes narrow behind the red lenses covering them. Scott turned away and ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavily. When he hung his head, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise – he was hiding something.

“There was a time when you loved me.”

She blinked.

“You loved me and I didn’t trust your love. I hurt you.” He turned back to look at her, his face showing his pain. “We were together for over two years and I thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. But I lost you.”

Rogue stared at him, stunned. She tried to reach for him but he put up his hand, his heartache wafting towards her. “Don’t. Your memories are gone, but not mine. I still love you, Anna.”

Rogue didn’t know what to say. She wanted to comfort him, but he had also said he hurt her. In a soft voice, she said, “Maybe in time Ah would have forgiven you.”

He laughed, but it was harsh sound. “My mistake didn’t just make me lose you. I lost you to him.”

“Him?”

Scott opened his mouth, and then closed it, his face hardening. “I can only speak for myself. I sure as hell am not going to make it easier for him.”

It wasn’t hatred that the man in front of her was feeling, but it was close to it. Who was he talking about? Remy’s memories hinted nothing about a relationship between her and Scott. It wasn’t Remy, so who could it be?

Scott took a step towards her and took both her hands in his, pulling her out of her thoughts. “I know you need time to adjust to the loss of your memories, and I know there is a lot for you to deal with right now. But I’m still hurting, Anna. It’s difficult for me to accept that what we had is over.”

She looked at their hands, his large ones covering her smaller gloved ones, finding it difficult to speak. His revelation shook her. She felt disoriented, and she swayed on her feet as a wave of dizziness came over her. Scott grabbed her shoulders, concerned.

“Anna?”

She shook her head, sweat breaking out across her forehead, her skin prickling uncomfortably against her clothing. “Please don’t call me that. Ah’m Rogue. My name is Rogue.”

“I know.” He sounded sad. “We’ll get your memories back, Rogue.”

She wished she could believe him. “Too much of me is gone now. Ah don’t know who Ah am anymore.”

Scott walked around the console. “Sure you do.” He hugged her, telling her firmly, “You’re an X-Man.” He ignored the alarm that indicated the Danger Room program was over, wishing he could be more than just a shoulder for her to lean on.

“We always take care of our own.”

“… is that he’s feral. Emma’s pretty sure the woman with him was Blindspot.”

The sound of students playing basketball outside carried into the professor’s office through an opened window, the humidity of the air outside doing little to alleviate the staleness in the room. Annoyed, Logan got up from the chair he had been sitting in to slam it closed. For someone as rich as the professor, it always bothered him that he never invested in air conditioning for the one room he spent the most time in. Logan leaned on the sill and glared at nothing in particular, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He was still trying to sort through what he had just learned a few hours ago, the muscles of his back working against the tightness of his shirt. That the professor looked completely comfortable annoyed him further. What was it, mind control that made him able to stand the heat in here?

Unperturbed by Logan’s behavior, Professor Xavier’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Was there anything else she was able to learn about him?”

“Outside of him havin’ some kind of connection with Itsu?” Logan looked sharply at Charles, the memory of his murdered wife tightening the skin around his eyes. “No. Blindspot touched Emma before she could find out more. If Emma hadn’t managed to change into her diamond form, she would have lost more than just the memories of this guy’s name and face.”

“His psychic trap is quite powerful as well, apparently. Ms Frost was in a coma for a week after attempting again to read his mind after their visit.”

Logan frowned. “You don’t know the half of it, Chuck. If Shaw had his way, Emma would still be in that coma. That’s why she’s willin’ to help. Figures she owes you.”

Charles nodded. The Hellfire Club and its members were long time enemies of the X-Men. Asking for his assistance to save their White Queen must have been a very difficult decision, one that he knew their leader Sebastian Shaw disagreed with. “I trust Ms Frost told you about this mysterious mutant’s intentions?”

“Somethin’ about him buildin’ a team and wantin’ a telepath on board which is why he approached her. He told her about his hate-on for me thinkin’ it would motivate her to join. Good thing Emma and I got her sister Kayla’s death resolved between us a while ago.”

Logan’s face darkened.

“The scent he left behind on Emma is the same strange scent I found in Mystique’s old hideaway.” Although Emma admitted to Logan she had enjoyed fucking the unidentified mutant, she was sure that the man had used his pheromones to convince her to sleep with him. The distraction of her riding him allowed her to read his mind, and if it hadn’t been for Blindspot attacking her in a jealous rage, Emma could have gotten a lot more information.

Claws shot through Logan’s knuckles. That same particular scent had been all over Marie.

Charles’ eyebrows raised at the sight of the adamantium blades. “Thankfully Ms Frost turned down his invitation,” the professor said slowly, wondering what made Logan suddenly so angry. “This individual was clearly involved with Rogue’s abduction. I think we can assume that he had hoped to enlist Rogue as well.”

“He didn’t do his homework if he thought that was goin’ to happen.” Logan’s voice was barely more than a growl as he re-sheathed his claws, his berserker rage frothing at the edge of his control. His chest heaved from the effort it took to calm down, and he had to reach deep inside to do it.

“I agree.” The professor waited for a few moments before asking, “Do you know of any other feral outside of Sabretooth who would harbor such an intense hatred towards you?”

Logan shrugged, still agitated but able to think clearly. “There’s more than a few, Chuck. I’ve been around a long time and most of that time wasn’t spent makin’ friends. This new guy’s just another number on the ticker. Killin’ Victor with the Muramasa Blade probably served as a good enough warnin’ for him to have stayed clear of me. But he’s on my radar now.”

The reminder of the missing weapon hung ominously between them. Logan pushed off the edge of the sill, re-opening the window and flexing his arms to release the tension there. “Until the blade is found, I’m not going anywhere.” And when it’s found, I’m gonna hunt this bastard down with it for getting near my Marie.

Charles Xavier stood up as well. He knew he couldn’t hold Logan’s attention any longer. “I am glad you’re back, Logan.”

“Me too, Chuck.” He left the professor’s office and immediately picked up Rogue’s scent, not breaking his stride to make his way downstairs.


*****


Logan found her in the school’s common room sitting off to the side, watching her former students Christie and Nicholas play foosball against each other. He stopped at the doorway, the sight of her making his heart pound hard in his chest.

She had her feet curled under her, the way she always did when she wanted to be comfortable, her hair worn long and loose in front of her. She tugged at her shapeless clothing, stretching the long sleeves of her shirt over her gloved hands, its neck pulled up to cover her mouth and nose. Despite the casual pose, he knew she was feeling anything but relaxed and a fierce need to caress the tenseness away from her body came over him.

Rogue had become aware of him as soon as he left the professor’s office, his scent preceding him to where she was. She was surprised at how her heart began to race, and how her ears unnecessarily strained to hear his heavy footsteps on the stairs, anticipation taking hold of her. Her breath shallowed when his powerful frame stopped by the doorway, and she fidgeted nervously with her clothing, unsure of how to greet him. So she kept her eyes on the two kids playing gitoni.

When he finally stepped into the room, Rogue couldn’t help but look at him and her stomach flipped over. The intense look on his handsome face didn’t frighten her, but it did make every nerve ending in her body snap to attention. Her eyes widened when he walked straight to her and held out his hand.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Her mouth went dry. Rogue wanted to refuse, suddenly afraid to be alone with him, the timbre of his gruff voice adding to her already overloaded senses. Logan was well aware of her reaction to him, especially her fear and his jaw clenched, hating it.

“I don’t bite,” he told her softly.

Rogue placed her gloved hand in his but when the contact sent an electric thrill through her, she jerked her hand back, startled. She avoided his questioning look and quickly stood up on her own. Frowning, Logan reluctantly dropped his hand.

She followed him to the back of the school where he stopped by a bench underneath a maple tree, near the sports field. Logan watched for any sign that she would recognize the spot as their favorite, but she just sat down, looking around her. Looking at everything but him.

“Hey.”

At his gentle prodding, she looked up and focused on something just over his shoulder, curling her hair nervously behind her ears with shaking fingers. Logan’s heart twisted at the expression of uncertainty of her face, knowing he should have been prepared that she still wouldn’t be able recognize him, should have been prepared for the pain he would feel because of it. But he wasn’t prepared. The reality that the woman he loved saw him as nothing more than a stranger felt like a hard kick to his gut. Logan kept his hands fisted by his sides, aware that her fear of him was growing.

Rogue was afraid. She hadn’t seen him since the night she was brought to the X-Mansion and during that time managed to convince herself that the powerful emotions he had brought out in her were due to the discovery of her feral mutation. Having his mutation could explain the connection she was feeling towards him, but why was his nearness making every sense she had go into overdrive?

Logan’s frown deepened. Her growing anxiety was hitting at him relentlessly.

“You okay?”

Rogue finally looked at him, and found herself lost in his burning hazel eyes. Sure, Gambit was handsome, in a boyish, charming way and so was Cyclops, in the classical sense. But this Wolverine, he was male perfection. Heat flared inside her, her eyes taking in his tightly worn jeans and white t-shirt, the powerful muscles clearly defined under them. Rogue wanted to smear herself all over him and she heard him inhale sharply.

“Darlin’, you keep that up and I don’t think I can keep my hands off you.”

Rogue gasped. She jumped up to leave but he stepped in front of her. “Don’t go.” His voice was rough, unsteady. “Please.”

Rogue didn’t move, breathing in his scent, confused by how it both excited and soothed her. A wave of frustration, lust, and pain weaved in between them; indistinguishable as to whom it originated from.

“Marie.” The name sounded like a plea.

Rogue found herself falling against him, weakened by the sudden need to be held by him. He wrapped his arms around her and she sighed, tears pricking her eyelids. For the second time since losing her memories, she felt safe.

“Ah’m so scared,” she whispered against his chest. “Ah don’t know what’s real anymore.”

Logan closed his eyes and held her tight, the familiar press of her soft body against his overwhelming him, the animal in him snarling because its mate was unhappy. “I know, darlin’. But the memories you do have are yours. They’re real. Just a few are missin’. You’ll be okay.”

She looked up at him, her green eyes bright with tears she didn’t want to shed. “But it’s what’s missing that’s making me lose whatever’s left of my mind. There’s something about you.” She hesitated a moment before deciding to be brave.

“It’s setting me on fire."

She might as well have doused him in flames. A tremor erupted over him and the heat left in its wake threatened his already tremulous control. A thousand responses raced through Logan’s mind as he struggled to rein in the Wolverine, to not react to her whispered confession the way the feral in him demanded. Logan wanted to tell her that he loved her, that she loved him - that twelve days ago they made love to each other for hours on end - leaving no part of themselves untouched, unkissed, untasted by the other. He wanted to kiss her so she could see his memories, the professor’s concerns be damned.

Even though every fiber of his being rebelled against the possibility, the chance she would never get her memories back was very real. He could see how much she was suffering. His eyes poured over her beautiful face, conflicted.

Rogue watched him struggle with his thoughts, wishing she could read his mind. “Tell me. Whatever it is, Ah can handle it. Ah just need the truth.”

Logan looked deep into her eyes, his own darting between them, hoping to find something there that told him she knew instinctively that he belonged to her. But the crack in his heart split further when he saw nothing, just fear and confusion and desperation. Not being able to touch would make knowing about them a torture. It was a torture for him already.

It took almost everything he had to let her go, but he did. He dropped his arms and stepped away from her. “It’s our shared feral mutation, Rogue. It makes us react physically to each other. That’s what’s throwin’ you off about me.”

Rogue stared at him. He wasn’t lying, but something wasn’t right. She didn’t feel this way about Dr. Mc Coy and he was feral. “When Ah touched Gambit, Ah got his memories. In them Ah saw him looking at you, more jealous than a scrawny dog eyein’ a fat cat. And it was over me.”

She caught the sound of his heart quickening, the sudden rise in his body temperature as he dug his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He squinted at something in the distance but when he looked back at her, his eyes were shuttered. “Gambit was in love with you. You and I had a strong friendship before he showed up to join the X-Men and the swamp rat didn’t like it.”

“Oh.” Despite the hot weather, Rogue shivered. “Thank you then, for clearing it up for me.” Her disappointment surrounded them.

Logan instinctively reached out to push back the strand of white hair that had fallen across her face, saddened that she flinched when his fingers came close to her bare skin. The action confirmed to him that he had to be patient - he had to hold back - just until her memories were restored. Just until her love for him returned.

“No problem.” He crossed his arms across his chest, giving her a small smile. She tried to smile back but found she couldn’t. Not trusting her ability to speak, Rogue brushed past him, confused by the pain she was suddenly feeling.

“I’ll take care of you, Rogue.”

She stopped at his words and looked over her shoulder. The sun was setting behind him, giving him a slightly fiery glow, the sharp angular planes of his face softened by its dying light. The Wolverine wasn’t gorgeous, she realized. He was beautiful.

“Promise?”

Something flashed across his face, something raw and naked but as fast as it appeared, it was gone. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod before returning his hands back inside the front pockets of his jeans, looking away again.

Rogue continued walking back to the mansion. She calmly walked through the front entrance and hallway, up the stairs and into her room, ignoring the strange looks sent her way. Jubilee followed her, concerned by the stony expression on Rogue’s face. When she asked if something was wrong, Jubilee was given a big smile and was told everything was fine.

“Just another bad day, that’s all.” Then Rogue sat down on the bed and promptly dissolved into gut-wrenching sobs.

Jubilee hovered at the doorway, unsure of what to do. Rogue had never cried before, at least, not in front of anyone since she arrived. She hesitantly approached Rogue and sat beside her, carefully draping an arm around the crying woman’s shoulders, frustrated that Rogue’s missing memory of their treasured friendship prevented her from providing any real comfort.

After a few minutes, Rogue slowly dropped her head onto Jubilee’s shoulder, the small, trusting gesture releasing the breath the Jubilee hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Chin trembling, tears streamed down her cheeks as she stroked her best friend’s hair soothingly.


*****


One floor below, Professor Xavier felt relief, knowing Rogue had finally allowed herself to cry.

Two floors below, Scott felt sympathy, watching Logan walk to the forest surrounding the school. He knew all too well how it felt to lose Rogue’s love.


*****


Rogue woke up in the middle of the night, horrific agony slicing through her head, her vision distorted by golden bursts of light. The nightmare lingered in her mind, three identical women with clutched pieces of torn flesh in their bloodied hands, attacking the body they surrounded, hissing their names at it.


I am Anna.

I am Anina.

Ah am Marie.

“No,” the carcass had begged through its ripped face, defeated and dying on the ground. “Ah am Rogue.”


Rogue stumbled into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time before the contents of her stomach were emptied into it.

“Ah’m Rogue,” she whispered, gasping from the pain and holding onto the porcelain rim with trembling arms. “Ah’m Rogue, Ah’m Rogue, Ah’m Rogue.”


Ah am Rogue.



*****


Charles Xavier cried out, grabbing at his head, a silent scream on his lips. Their connection severed as powerful shields erected in Rogue’s mind, her last thought ricocheting through his mind.


~ Ah am Rogue. ~


He sent out a distressed call and within moments, Logan burst into her room. Finding her, he rubbed her back, holding her hair away from her face when she continued to throw up, telling comfortingly her that yes, she was Rogue.

She was Rogue, she was Rogue, she was Rogue.

The next day, Jubilee made it her mission to bring Rogue up to speed about the origins of Xavier’s Academy for Gifted Youngsters and what the X-Men stood for. She told her about Willowbend Academy and all that Rogue had done for abandoned and threatened mutant children, getting former students to share their experiences of when they attended the Mississippi school that used to be her childhood home. Jubilee told stories of when her, Kitty and Rogue were students themselves, regaling her with outrageous stories of the escapades the three girls had gotten themselves into, showing Rogue photos and video clips of when they were younger.

Rogue hid her pain behind false laughter and insincere smiles, not wanting to tell her well meaning friend that the more she learned about her past, the more she mourned her inability to recall it on her own. She felt pressure to behave like this Anna/Anina person, and when she did, Jubilee and the others responded encouragingly, happy to see hints of the person she used to be.

But she wasn’t Anna, she wasn’t Anina. She couldn’t find anything inside of her personality that would lend itself to ever being like these women. She was just Rogue. Plain, simple, unremarkable Rogue.

She was secretly glad when the professor discovered he was no longer able to read her mind after her horrific nightmare. She patiently sat in his office and pretended to be disappointed right along with him when his attempts to re-enter her mind failed time and time again, relieved that she could now keep her thoughts to herself without sharing them with the X-Men founder. It was better this way. It was always better this way – keeping her emotions to herself - not becoming too attached to this place. She needed to accept the empty spaces in her mind, needed to accept that her memories were gone forever and she would only be able to do that on her own, away from their assurances that things would go back to normal.

Rogue wondered how they thought that could ever happen when the woman she was before seemed anything but normal.

Rogue did look forward to the hour each afternoon she spent with Piotr. The Russian was pleasantly surprised she agreed to let him sketch her when he found her sitting on her own, looking outside the Library window after she had first arrived. Approaching her shyly, he revealed that he had always wanted to draw her, even since meeting her for the first time fifteen years ago. She didn’t have the heart to say no to his humble request. Maybe it was because he was thinking of the person she had been back then rather than the person she was recently, maybe it was because it flattered her that he thought she was worth being made immortal on canvass. Whatever it was, she was glad she didn’t.

She learned about his life as a young boy in Russia, about his sister Ilyanna and the tribulations the siblings encountered when they first arrived in America. He told her about his boyfriend Jean-Paul Beaubier, the famous Canadian former ski champion and superhero that he hoped would join the X-Men after he located his missing twin sister Jeanne-Marie, a mutant herself who was known to disappear because of her mental illness. The large man’s love for Northstar was profound - it wrapped itself around Rogue every time he spoke of him.

Rogue admitted to him her envy. She couldn’t imagine how wonderful it must feel, loving someone and being loved like that. Colossus had frowned and she turned quickly away, not wanting to see the pity they all felt for her reflected in his eyes as well.

He had her sit on a stool by the window, a simple white sheet draped tastefully around her nude body, able to adjust her pose without fear because of his ability to metalicize his skin. The simply furnished room became her sanctuary because being in the company of the gentle, silent giant, Rogue was able withdraw into herself, free of the imposter she had become.


*****


“You owe Remy at leas’ one, cher. Please? Pretty please? Pretty pecan pie please?”

The late afternoon sun was strong, making the air thick and warm around them and Rogue stretched out her arms and legs, trying to catch as much of the cool grass against her heated skin as she possibly could. Her gloves were set beside her, a boundary between her and the man lying down next to her. The sound of the students’ horseplay from the pool carried over to where they were on the front lawn of the mansion, which was why Rogue felt comfortable enough to be in shorts and t-shirt.

“Don’t be thinking Ah’m going to fall for your charms, Cajun. Ah know all about your suggestive mutation.” Despite the warning in her voice, Remy’s playful begging did have the effect of making the corner of her mouth lift into a smile. A shadow came over her and she knew he was leaning over her.

“Remy needs no mesmer mojo for a beautiful woman’s affection,” he drawled. “Besides, it only works on dose who don’t know. You know. So you’re under dis one’s spell because you want t’be, cher.”

Rogue’s eyes remained closed. “Ah didn’t know when we first met. For all Ah know, Ah was caught in your voodoo spell back then.” It became very quiet, the sound of her breathing the only one she could hear. Concerned, she opened her eyes.

“Never.” His scarlet eyes were serious. “Dis one would never do that to you.”

Rogue kept her eyes on his, losing herself in their strange beauty. He really was a spectacular looking man. Even so, she surprised herself, saying, “Alright, Cajun. Kiss me.”

His eyes brightened. Remy pulled out a sheer purple scarf from the back pocket of his jeans and draped it gently over her face and she caught her breath when he lowered his handsome face closer to hers, every piece of her becoming electric.

His mouth slid slowly across hers, pressing softly, pulling invitingly at her lower lip, his tongue wetting the diaphanous material. One arm dug under her waist, pulling her up against him as he rolled on top of her, placing his leg between hers, his hard body forcing her softer one to mold to it. His other gloved hand held the back of her neck, tilting her head to accommodate his kiss and she felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the weather pour over her. Remy moved his leg higher, his knee pushing at the apex of her thighs and she gasped, stiffening.

“Shhh, bebe. Remy will make you feel good.” His hand slid under her shirt and over her bare stomach, unbuttoning her shorts before pulling down the zipper to pull them apart. He recaptured her lips, deepening the kiss, his fingers dipping under the band of her underwear.

Rogue broke away and grabbed his roaming hand with her bare one. “That’s not going to happen, Remy.”

He looked down between them, sighed, and reluctantly re-zipped her shorts. “Just o’ bit of fun cher, nothing more.” He smiled and flashed his dimples. Rogue relaxed.

“Ah lead,” she told him sternly, the sheer scarf fluttering from her shallow, nervous breathing.

“D’accord, petit.” Remy closed his eyes, and didn’t move - a patient expression on his face.

Her kiss was surprisingly innocent, unsure but explorative, and he kept his hands on her tiny waist as she curled her fingers harmlessly into his hair. But after a few minutes, a tortured moan escaped him and he crushed her to him, again deepening the kiss, his tongue delving possessively into her mouth. Remy settled himself between her legs, his arousal easily felt through their clothing. He slid his hands along the inside of her thighs, both thumbs digging under her shorts on either side in an attempt to meet at the heated core of her.

Rogue pushed at his shoulders, shifting under him to get him to stop. His kiss became demanding, his hands gripping her hips to hold her down and he drew back to press himself again more intimately against her so she could feel the size of his desire for her. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pulled viciously, forcing him to stop kissing her.

“Ow!”

Sitting up, she threw the scarf from her face to the ground beside her and brushed away the blades of grass from her back. “Damn it, Remy!”

He sat back on his heels, rubbing the spot on his head where she almost ripped out what would have been a sizeable amount of hair. She tried to scramble out from underneath him, but he crawled back on top of her. He was genuinely surprised by how upset she was.

“Cher, is no right to get mad at dis one for being a man.” He tried hard to not be offended, but failed. His ego was getting more than just a little bruised by her reaction.

Rogue’s face reddened, reaching for her gloves and pulling them on with hard tugs. “What about being my friend? Why do you always push for more?”

“Would you rather Remy lie, petit? Dis one wants more dan friendship from you.” He grabbed her hands and pressed them to his heart, telling her earnestly, “I want you, Rogue. I never stopped wanting you.” His eyes hid nothing, his scent even less.

Rogue sat up abruptly, forcing him to pull back and this time, he didn’t stop her when she stood up and moved away from him. She hugged her arms around herself, overwhelmed and confused, the revulsion she was feeling not making any sense. She had enjoyed his kiss, enjoyed the feel of his hard, muscular body against her but when he had tried to touch her, it was like ice being dumped over her. It was better when she kissed him until he took over again, becoming much worse when he became sexually aggressive, shutting her own arousal down completely.

Rogue cared for him, he was the only person she felt any real connection to in this strange place, the only person who knew her as Rogue – so why was this happening? Remy had no memories of her as the saintly Anna, no memories of the wildly successful Anina. Remy wanted her, just as she was.

Broken, half empty, Rogue.

“You pull in with one hand and push away with the other,” she heard him say softly behind her. “Every time dis one tries to get close, you punish him. Is cruel, cher. Is no fair.” She closed her eyes and knew he was right. It wasn’t fair.

Rogue wanted to feel something more than just an attraction towards the handsome, charming Cajun. Remy’s memories told her that she hadn’t loved him before but why didn’t she? And Scott told her that she had loved him but who did he lose her to? Not to Hank - he was with Ororo. Not to Piotr- he was with Jean-Paul and definitely not to Kurt, his feelings for her fraternal.

Was it to the Wolverine? He told her they had shared a close friendship but nothing more. And yet, thinking of him, incinerating desire shot through her, completely obliterating the pleasant experience of Remy’s kiss. She growled in frustration, and Remy head shot up, hearing it.

“It’s because of him again, isn’t it?” The humid air around them became stained with his jealousy. Rogue spun around to look at him, her eyes narrowing.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Dat animal. He’s poisoned you, he’s marked you.” Remy grabbed her roughly, his face hard with anger. “Dat’s why you couldn’t love Remy before, why you can’t now.” But just as fast as his anger appeared, it was gone and he pulled her into his arms, holding her in place when she tried to pull away. He placed his lips near her ear, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Give me a chance, Rogue. The chance I never got when you went away.”

Rogue tried. She tried to feel something, tried to feel more than just affection and physical attraction. But she couldn’t. Scared as she was to lose the only person in her life who accepted her as she was, Rogue knew what she had to do.

“You are a sweet, handsome, amazing man, Remy LeBeau. There’s something wrong with a woman if she isn’t head over heels in love with you. But knowing Ah should love you, and being in love with you are two different things.” Rogue pulled away from him, finding it hard to continue, but knowing he deserved the truth. She had to let him go.

“Ah don’t love you, Remy. Not the way you want me to. Ah don’t think Ah ever did, but Ah do know Ah never will. Ah’m sorry.”

The head of the Guild of Thieves loved many women in his life. A few deeply and even then, never as much as they did him. His memories of Rogue haunted him for ten years; his unrequited love for her a constant ache all that time. It was a wound he prevented from healing over, convinced that her quick departure was to blame for her not loving him but looking into her remorseful eyes, Remy LeBeau realized that this beautiful woman would never be, could never be, his.

He reached out and caressed her cheek, pinching her chin gently between his forefinger and thumb. Smiling sadly, he admitted, “Dis one is hurting, cher.”

Rogue nodded, tears threatening to escape her eyes. She didn’t say anything, she knew he was.

Remy took a cleansing breath, and dropped his head back dramatically, massaging the back of his neck. Looking up at the sky, he watched the sun hide behind a cloud and noticed the storm making its way towards them. A strong wind blew his hair away from his face.

“Ah hope you stay, Remy.” Guilt was in her voice, fear too.

“Remy is going nowhere, petit. New Orlean’s too hot dis time of year, anyway.” He winked at her and held out his hand.

Rogue squeezed it gratefully. He pulled her into the curve of his shoulder and they walked slowly back to the mansion, the wind picking up around them.

She was dancing outside on the back terrace, bopping away to what Logan initially thought was to nothing until he caught sight of the thin white cords attached to Rogue’s ears. The tinny sound coming from the small earphones as he approached her told him that the volume was on way too high - her eardrums had to be screaming in protest - but then he remembered they were probably healing as fast as they were being damaged.

When Rogue started to sing he backed up for a moment, the lyrics of whatever song she was listening to reduced to a garbled mess of nonsense - she clearly had no idea what they were supposed to be. She still sang along anyway, singing at the top of her lungs, startling him by how loud someone so small could be.

Laughing quietly to himself, Logan slowly crept up behind her, deciding to teach her a lesson for being so distracted by the crap she thought passed for music. Crouching down, he waited until she was belting out what sounded like the chorus again before lunging at her, arms aiming for her waist so that he could take the brunt of the fall when he brought her to the ground.

Except it didn’t quite work out that way.

Logan found himself sailing overtop of a flattened Rogue who ducked quickly to avoid his attack, swiftly spinning on her heel and raising herself up one leg to kick out her other leg in a perfect ninety degree angle to her body, her foot lodged against his throat when he jumped up in recovery. Her elbows were tight against her, her hands in fists by her smirking face, her long braid swinging behind her. Music coming from the tiny earbuds stuck in her ears was the only sound, both of them perfectly still. Seeing the shocked expression on his face, Rogue tapped her nose with her thumb.

His scent gave him away.

With a growl he pushed her foot away and swung his right fist at her and she ducked again, easily parrying his continuous attack on her with her forearms, the only give being that she was forced to back up from his offensive advance. He thought he had her when she was left with only a foot left of terrace, but she surprised him again by leaping onto the stone ledge, back flipping over him and wrapping an arm around his throat, forcing him to fall backwards onto the ground. Only this time, instead of smirking, she trapped him between her legs and hooked her ankles together over his chest and arms, squeezing him in a powerful hold.

The annoying music got louder, an escaped earphone hanging over his shoulder, taunting him with its electronic beat.

“Had enough, sugah?”

Logan rolled his shoulders inwards and taking advantage of the give it earned him, he broke free of her hold and flipped over, quickly climbing on top of her and forcing her onto her back. He pulled both her arms over her head and held them against the ground, effectively gaining the dominant position.

“Not even close, darlin’.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. Rogue adjusted her hips, the heat emanating between her thighs now pressing against him. An appreciative growl worked its way into her overly alert ears and smiling seductively, she arched her back and bent her knees, instinctively knowing the submissive movement would please him. It did, and his deepening growl confirmed it. Breathing hard, he released the hold he had on her hands, hooking his arms under her knees to rub himself against her. Her eyes fluttered shut, gasping in pleasure, and he grinned arrogantly, repeating the motion.

Eyes still closed, she suddenly grabbed his head with her freed hands and swiftly brought it up to meet hers, her forehead cracking sharply against his nose.

They both fell back from the contact, the maneuver stunning them both. Him, because of the dirty viciousness of the move - her, because of the stars that swam in her vision from coming in contact with an adamantium laced skull.

Pressing a hand to her bleeding forehead, Rogue glared at him and yelled, “Holy fuck! What the hell is your head made of, cement?”

Sitting up, Logan wiped the blood from under his nose with his shirt before pinching his nostrils together to stop the bloodflow quicker. “No, not cement,” he answered drily. “Metal.”

Logan grimaced, his clogged up voice sounding ridiculous, his raging hard-on pushing uncomfortably against his jeans. He forcefully brought up the blood trapped in his throat into his mouth and spit it to the side, earning a look of disgust from her.

Swearing again, Rogue sat up and plucked out the remaining earbud from her ear after turning off the i-pod attached to her belt. “Thanks for the warning,” she snapped at him, using her glove to mop up the blood off her face.

Logan realized she wouldn’t have remembered he had an adamantium coated skeleton. Not wanting to get into it, he asked, “Where did you learn to fight like that?” He released the pinch on his nose - the flow of blood having stopped, and relaxed slightly seeing her injury had healed as well.

Rogue stood up and offered her arm to help him do the same, which he accepted, surprised she knew how to plant her legs in the way needed to be able to pull his substantial weight up. If she was surprised by how heavy he was, she didn’t show it. “You pick up a few things when you’re raised by a homicidal megalomaniac.”

Aha. He should have recognized Mystique’s fighting style.

“Don’t you think it’s a bad idea to have yer hearin’ compromised by that shit you have blastin’ in your ear?” He frowned at the amount of blood splattered on his freshly laundered t-shirt. Blood and white cotton were always a bad combination.

Rogue shrugged, folding her arms in front of her. “No. Ah like the way it forces me to rely on my other senses. This feral mutation is pretty handy.”

“Handy?”

She laughed at the affronted tone in his voice. “Yeah, handy. Ah can over exert myself physically and the only side-effect is getting to eat pounds of food to recuperate. That’s handy. Besides,” she added with a wink, hands on hips now, “It must be the reason why Ah have this fantastic body.”

Logan’s eyes drifted down said body and agreed inwardly that it was, without a doubt, fantasy-inducing.

“Up here, sailor.” He saw her eyes were bright with amusement when his own shot back up to meet them. “You’re pretty hot yourself, Wolfman. Despite your seventies facial hair hang up.”

His eyebrow cocked. “Thanks.”

Rogue grinned at him and put the earphones back in her ears. Before she turned the music on again, he told her, “There’s some room for improvement in your fightin’ skills.”

She rolled her eyes, turning her back to him. “Ah don’t think so. Ah’m pretty much unbeata…” Her words were cut off by a single shining blade suddenly appearing across her throat, so close that she could feel the warmth it radiated on her skin.

“Don’t ever think yer unbeatable, Rogue. We all get our asses kicked sooner or later.” He sheathed his claw and walked back into the mansion, leaving her to glare at him.


*****


Logan watched the cardio class out on the basketball court, the sound of the annoying techno music Rogue had been dancing to the morning before carrying over to where he was, like a buzzing fly trapped in his ear. Observing the rash vested, tights-clad woman dancing energetically to the high trebled beat as she led the class, Logan decided it was worth it.

He was absolutely riveted.

Rogue whipped her long ponytail about her head, rotating her hips and kicking her legs high into the air as her delicious body bounced to the music. She was shouting encouragement to the students, hopping between them in their lines, pausing to assist those who needed it. Logan growled seeing the male students pretend to not understand the simple movements, stealing knowing looks at each other when she placed her hands on them from behind to demonstrate.

Curious as to what Logan was staring at, Kurt walked over to where he was standing by the common room’s window and looked over his good friend’s shoulder. Catching sight of Rogue, a knowing look came over his face and he began to beat box deep in his throat, exaggeratedly jerking his body spastically to the music. This only made the feral’s growl louder, not appreciating the blue demon’s amusement at his expense.

“Fuck off ‘bamf’ boy.”

Kurt grinned, watching his foster sister dance rhythmically to the high energy music in front of the small group of students. “Can you blame them, Logan? Look at her, she’s every teenage boy’s vet dream come true - God forgive my observation.”

Logan’s eyes remained focused on Rogue as she spun around, taking in her perfect body shaking to the music, her laughter infectious. He saw Jubilee and Ororo join in, dancing and laughing right along with her, the three women clearly enjoying themselves as another song exploded from the speakers Rogue had set up in front of the basketball nets. Their excited yells spurred the students on and a flurry of swinging arms and legs stabbed through the air in response to their teachers’ enthusiasm.

Rogue reached for her water bottle and Logan’s fingers twitched, watching the drop of water that escaped her lips drip under her jaw down her throat, joining with the sweat that shined on the exposed skin above her breasts before disappearing between them. Kurt laughed softly at the haunted expression on his face.

Ignoring him, Logan turned sharply on his heel and stormed out of the room, intent on engaging in a Level Ten Danger Room session. Followed by the coldest shower he could stand.

Kurt took Logan’s vacated place at the window and shook his head when Rogue looked in his direction and winked as she led the students into another cardio routine.


*****


Logan insisted on taking over Rogue’s retraining.

Their daily sessions were brutal and vicious, neither holding back on their attacks, both relishing the opportunity to let loose on a fellow super healing sparring partner. They were never alone, Colossus and Kurt usually joining them, and if they weren’t available, then a couple of students did. Their pins on each other lasted a bit longer each day, their recovery time when one held down the other a little more slow in coming.

Logan insisted she be glove-less and when she argued that she wasn’t in the mood to drain away the life of a senior X-Men, he showed up the next day in full battle gear, right up to his neck with gloves to match.

Rogue showed up the day after that in the skimpiest training outfit she could find.

Outside of the Danger Room they hardly saw each other, she spent a lot of time in the Library and he spent a lot of time in the garage. One week after his return, Rogue couldn’t be sure if Logan was avoiding her on purpose so she sought him out and found him in the staff lounge, watching a televised football game.

“Hey.”

Logan looked over the back of the sofa where he was sitting and frowned. Rogue was wearing cut off jeans, her black bra peaking out from under the low cut blue top that ended just below her ribcage. Damn. “Hey.”

He watched her make her way to the cupboard, tilting his head to enjoy the view when she went on tippy-toe, eyeing something on the top shelf.

“Can you help me with this?”

“With what?” His voice sounded more harsh than he intended. Jesus, her legs just go on forever.

“Ah can’t reach the pilsner glasses.” She turned to face him, shifting her weight onto one hip and drumming her fingertips on the granite counter top, looking put out.

Logan returned his attention to the flat screen in front of him. “Drink from the bottle,” was his curtly delivered suggestion, staying where he was.

Rogue pouted, stepping to the refrigerator. Swinging open the door, she bent over and took her time rummaging through it, her lips curling into a triumphant grin when his aroused scent spiked even higher than it did when he first caught sight of her. She grabbed two beers before standing back up and turned to face him. If she didn’t know any better, he had his eyes on the television the entire time. Keeping the grin on her face, she walked over to where he was.

She passed him a bottle and he grunted in thanks, twisting off the cap and tilting the beer back to swallow its contents in one go. Rogue stood there, enjoying the view of his throat accommodating the fast flow of brew, noticing how his upper lip slipped just inside the tip of the bottle, his lower pressed firmly under it to prevent any of the golden liquid from escaping. Burping in his mouth and blowing it out the side of his mouth, Logan leaned forward to put the empty bottle on the ground beside his feet, his attention still on the game as he resettled back against the sofa. Undeterred, she sat beside him, lifting her legs onto the coffee table.

“Takin’ a chance with that outfit, ain’tcha?” His face and voice were expressionless, still not looking at her.

Rogue shifted closer, bending an arm so that her elbow stabbed into the sofa’s upholstery, her hand supporting the side of her head to look at him comfortably. “No one gets close enough for it to matter,” she told him simply, determining that she liked his mutton chops. It suited that wonky hairstyle of his.

He didn’t respond. She sat there, quietly inspecting his profile until he looked annoyed. “Somethin’ on yer mind, Rogue?”

She took a sip from her cold beer with her free hand, finding it amusing that he refused to look at her. “Just thinking.”

He took the bottle from her and raised an eyebrow when she opened her mouth to protest. Left unchallenged, he smirked and asked before taking a long swig, “About what?”

Rogue smirked in return. “About friends with benefits.”

Beer sprayed from his mouth. Coughing, he saw her raise her own eyebrow, calmly observing him. She took her beer back and drank the rest of it, placing it on the floor alongside his finished one. Logan forgot all about the game.

“What did you say?” He ignored the burn in his throat and stared at her.

Rogue shrugged, reaching out to play with a lock of his hair. She flipped it between her fingers, enjoying the feel of the strong, silky strands despite her gloves. His face softened watching her, remembering.

“There are some potential candidates Ah’m thinking of pursuing.”

“Like who?” He snapped out of the memory and snarled the question, the tenderness he had been feeling replaced by harsh jealousy.

Rogue’s eyes were green fire when they looked into his. “There’s a few.” They darted to his lips, and his breath hitched, knowing he was in trouble. Logan’s mind screamed at him to get up, to leave, but his body refused to obey.

“Be specific.”

His voice was deep and rough, and a chill ran deliciously through her hearing it. Rogue leaned into him, her breasts brushing up against his arm and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. “Ah’m open to suggestions.”

Logan got up abruptly and she fell forward into the suddenly emptied seat. Annoyed, Rogue recovered quickly and stood up, standing as close to him as she dared, telling him, “It’s only a matter of time, sugah. There’s only so much this woman can take.”

He grabbed her forearms where her gloves ended below her elbows and drew her up against him. “Darlin’, this man can take even less.”

Rogue closed her eyes, inhaling him and Logan’s eyes darkened, feeling and hearing her purr. All their senses focused on each other, they were completely unaware of Jubilee who had just entered the room.

“Oops, sorry children. Just need to get my hands on some cold stuff.”

Rogue and Logan sprang apart. The moment gone, Rogue moved away to help the shorter woman gather up water bottles to bring back to the pool, hearing but not listening to Jubilee complain about how annoying it was that just because she was going into the mansion, it didn’t mean that they could ask her to bring them back refreshments, she only had so many hands after all and next time they asked her she wouldn’t do it because they can get their own damn water, thank you very much. Jubilee’s chatter lessened in volume as they walked away down the hallway towards the back of the mansion.

Moaning, Logan collapsed onto the sofa, the sound of his frustrated yell muffled by the cushion he buried his face into.

Logan waited for over a half hour before he accepted that Rogue stood him up for their morning training session. Sending Colossus on his way, Logan stomped through the school looking for her, tracking her down to one of the outside buildings. He slowed down when he heard the strains of Swan Lake coming from one of the classrooms.

Rogue was in front of five students, all of them facing the mirrored wall of the dance studio. She instructed the teenagers through their reflections, raising her voice louder than the music to describe each pose, keeping her eyes on each of them and correcting their forms. She held each position effortlessly, every muscle taut and responsive, moving from one movement into the next with fluid grace, demonstrating for the young girls what she expected of them. Logan recognized the Grand Pas of Odile, specifically the coda of the Black Swan and he stood at the back of the class to watch, Rogue nodding at him in acknowledgment that she was aware of his presence.

Spending time in Russia many years ago had given him an appreciation for the famous ballet, it was Natalia Romanova’s favorite and during that time when he had trained her to be the Black Widow, she insisted he accompany her to Moscow over and over again to watch it. In fact, Logan remembered other, more enjoyable things she insisted he do over and over again with her.

Rogue sent him a sharp look. He forced the memory of the sexy spy out of his mind, seeing her nostrils flare. Sexual deprivation made for a very, very frustrated Wolverine and knowing there was enough tension between them as it was, he forced himself to behave.

The girls struggled to keep up with her and Rogue smiled at them encouragingly when they faltered, waiting for them to catch up and seamlessly picking up where she left off each time they did. One by one, they stopped to stare as she launched into the thirty two fouettes required for the coda, kicking one leg out continuously and landing and lifting en pointe repeatedly with the other before ending flawlessly in fourth position when the music faded away to end the famous finale. The students applauded and she blushed, shushing them. Grabbing their towels and water bottles, the adolescents giggled and wished Logan good morning before rushing outside, squealing when he returned their greeting.

Rogue grabbed her own towel and wiped away the beads of sweat on her face and neck, rolling her eyes at the young girls’ behavior. Their idol worship of the Wolverine was ulcer inducing.

Logan grinned, making his way towards her. “Impressive.”

She shrugged, gathering her things together and stuffing them into her tote. “It feels like Ah danced only a few months ago instead of fifteen years ago. Since Ah’m stuck with the memories Ah have, Ah might as well do the most Ah can with them.”

His head tilted, catching the bitterness in her voice. “We’ll get your memories back, Rogue.”

Suddenly, Rogue became very, very angry.

“Would everyone just stop saying that? For all Ah know this is as good as it’s going to get. Ah lived half my life missing a good portion of my memories already and now, it looks like Ah will be living the rest of my life with half of them gone forever. So don’t tell me that Ah’ll get my memories back because you don’t know that!”

Rogue bit her lip. Damnit.

Upset that she lost her composure, she moved to leave but Logan side stepped quickly to stop her. She was wearing a thin black leotard and white dance skirt, her arms, hands and legs bare so she was forced to jump back to avoid touching him. Rogue glared at him, throwing the tote over her shoulder impatiently.

Logan remained where he was, undaunted by the daggers she was throwing at him with her eyes. “I want to help you, Rogue. I’m your friend.”

She tossed her head and laughed, the hollow sound echoing in the empty room. “Oh please. Enough with the bullshit. We both know you are the furthest thing from a friend to me.” He took a step towards her and she jumped back again, getting angrier.

“Stop that!” she demanded, frustrated that he didn’t care about the danger he was in. He didn’t have his combat suit on and she didn’t have her gloves on, making her feel extremely vulnerable. Logan continued to move in her direction, ignoring the anxiety she was giving off and forced her backwards until her back hit the wall.

Barely an inch from her, he told her quietly, “I know what it feels like, darlin’. You don’t know where the beginnin’ is so you don’t know how to move forward.” He looked deep into her eyes. “You don’t know what’s important and not important in your life, so you decide nothin’ is. I get it.”

She swallowed hard, resenting the compassion she saw in his eyes. “Really? You get it? Tell me, all-powerful Wolverine, do you know how it feels to live with people who know the truth about your past but refuse to tell you?” She let him see all the hurt in her eyes, holding nothing back. “What are you not telling me? What are you holding back?”

Logan stepped away from her, eyes unblinking. After a few moments, he ran his hands through his hair and told her, “It’s complicated, Rogue. You’re not ready.” The aggravation in his voice sliced through the silence between them.

She looked at him, breath caught in her throat, knowing he wanted to tell her. When he remained silent, his eyes settling on something on the floor, Rogue narrowed her eyes in disgust.

“Fuck you, Wolverine. Ah don’t need you.” Rogue stepped around him and left the room, her ballet slippers stomping soundlessly against the sprung wooden floor.


*****


Rogue began to change.

She cut the length of her hair, its dark waves falling to the middle of her back instead of to her hips, the white stripe shortened to frame her face in layered bangs. She wore heavier makeup and sexier clothing, the growing awareness of her sensuality evident in how she carried herself. She flirted openly with the male staff members and did little to discourage anyone from trying to gain her favor, enjoying the attention, pandering to it. The members of the X-Men were becoming worried, Rogue’s behavior so unlike the woman they had known and when Jubilee expressed their concerns to her, Rogue laughed.

“Just having some fun, honey. Ah’m untouchable, remember?”

“True. But you sure aren’t acting the same way you did a couple of weeks ago. What’s up, chica?” Jubilee leaned against the dresser located near Rogue’s bathroom, watching her friend pull out the clothes that had arrived that morning from the Louis Vuitton luggage set on the bed.

Rogue stood in front of a full length mirror next to her and held up another piece of clothing. She was disappointed. This had to be the most boring pile of clothes she had ever seen. Did she really wear these things? “Nothing’s up, Jujubes. This is how Ah act.”

“Well, it’s not the way Anna used to act.”

Rogue clenched her teeth. “You know what, Miss Jubilation Lee?” Rogue angrily threw the clothes in her hands to the floor, and faced the surprised Asian woman. “Ah could care less about the way Ah used to act. This is me. This is who Ah am. If you don’t like it, too bad, because Ah sure as hell am not going to pretend to be this perfect, sweet, bend-over-backwards-to-make-everyone-happy princess that this Anna sounds like. Little Miss Perfect is not me.”

Jubilee stared at her, mouth open.

Rogue lifted her head unrepentantly at the shocked look at her friend’s face, prepared to argue her point further. Jubilee pushed off the wall to pick up a discarded silk blouse that landed near her and rubbed the fine material between her fingers. Then she looked at Rogue and smiled.

“Thank god. I couldn’t fucking stand her.”

Rogue blinked, not sure if she heard her right. Jubilee laughed, balling up the shirt and whipping it at Rogue’s surprised face. “I waited so long for you to snap out of that saint shtick you were on, and even though it took practically lobotomizing you to do it, it’s about fucking time. Welcome back, Rogue.”

Rogue whipped the shirt right back at her, but she was relieved at Jubilee’s reaction. “You’re insane.”

“Says the half amnesiac woman who’s stepping all over thousands of dollars worth of designer clothes on the floor.” Jubilee reached down and began to gather them but Rogue purposely put her foot on the blouse Jubilee was in the process of picking up.

“Honey, Ah just found out that Ah am filthy rich. You, my stylish friend, are about to become very busy updating my wardrobe.”

A cheshire cat sized grin took over Jubilee’s face. “Roguie, you have no idea what you have just unleashed.” A tendril of dread unfurled in Rogue’s stomach, catching the evil gleam that appeared in the midnight blue eyes of the yellow-loving mutant.


*****


Logan was furious when he learned Rogue left the estate with Jubilee. He spent the entire day in the garage assuming she was inside the mansion, and when he sat down for dinner and was informed by Ororo they had been gone since morning, he lost it. After yelling at everyone for letting them go, he stormed outside to chase them down, the fear of Marie disappearing again making it hard to think.

Halfway to the garage, he heard the familiar roar of Scott’s Porsche and by the time the sports car drove through the front gates, he had his legs planted squarely in the middle of the driveway, waiting for them. Despite the angry scowl on his face, Logan felt a tidal wave of relief crash over him catching sight of Marie sitting in the passenger seat. She was safe.

Seeing him, Jubilee said, “Uh-oh. Someone’s not happy.”

“Someone doesn’t care,” was Rogue’s flippant reply, getting out of the car when Jubilee parked it in front of the angry-looking feral.

“What the were you two thinking, leaving the school like that?” he demanded, watching them reach for the bags stuffed into the tiny backseat. He noted Jubilee at least had the decency to look guilty. Rogue on the other hand was anything but.

She kept her face impassive, calmly walking past him. Following her, Jubiliee shrugged apologetically at him.

That sent his temper flaring. “Don’t walk away from me! Who’s stupid idea was it to leave the school?”

Offended, Jubilee stopped to answer but Rogue looked behind her and motioned for her to continue walking, so she did but this time she sent Logan a scathing look.

He took the steps five at a time, forcing the silent duo to stop in their tracks halfway up. “I swear, if one of you don’t start talkin’, I’m gonna throw you upstairs in yer rooms and lock you in them for a week!”

Jubilee snorted. “Oh puh-lease, Wolvie. Now even I think you’re an idiot.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Jubilation, do you think you can handle bringing these bags upstairs by yourself? Ah would like to speak with the Wolverine privately, if you don’t mind.”

Jubilee took Rogue’s bags from her, keeping her own eyes narrowed at Logan. “Sure you don’t need any help with the school’s rabid watchdog?”

Rogue shook her head, a small smile on her face. “Not this time, thanks.”

Jubilee turned around and gave Logan one more hard look before walking up the rest of the steps and disappearing through the front doors. Logan in the meantime was having a hard time picking which woman he was angrier with. He went with the one who was standing in front of him, calmly shaking out her hair, the freshly styled locks falling in place around her face.

“What is the problem, Wolverine?”

“The problem?” He towered over her, close enough for her to catch the bits of yellow fire in his eyes. “The problem is that there are people out there who not even three weeks ago, abducted you. You don’t think that maybe, just maybe, they might be waitin’ for the chance to do it again?”

Rogue was aware the man in front of her was angry, the rapid clenching and unclenching of his jaw less of a hint than the claws that had slid out from between his knuckles. Biting the inside of her cheek, she remarked, “Those nifty shiny thingees must be your way of showing your concern.”

He sheathed them with an audible snap. “This isn’t funny, Marie.”

“Ah’m not laughing. And the name’s Rogue.”

He ignored her correction, forcing himself to calm down. Having her back did more than half the job already, but he was still upset. “You need to take this seriously. You can’t just take off without proper protection.”

Keeping her eyes on his, she replied, “Ah am more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“No, yer not.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes.” She stabbed her finger against his thickly muscled chest. “Ah am.”

“Marie…” he growled, losing his patience.

That’s when she lost hers. “God damnit! Ah told you my name is ROGUE!” She spun around to leave but he easily caught her arm, pulling her sharply and making her lose her balance. He grabbed her before she fell and steadied her, his face tight with anger.

“You can’t afford to be stupid, Rogue.” He said the name mockingly. “There are good people out there tryin’ to find the people responsible for what happened to you. Takin’ off like you did today can get you caught again, wastin’ all their time and effort. You might not appreciate what they’re doin’, but the rest of us do. Next time, you pass it by me first if you want to leave the mansion.”

“This is where Ah would tell you to go fuck yourself and that Ah’m my own boss but we both know you’re incapable of hearing anything outside of what is stuck in the small brain of yours.” Her voice was even, but the darkened irises of her eyes told him she was very, very, angry. “Let me go, Wolverine. Ah don’t take kindly to manhandling. It’s what bullies do. And Ah don’t like bullies.”

Logan’s lips curled back to bare his teeth. He didn’t like her talking back to him, didn’t like that she refused to listen to him. He wanted to demonstrate his dominance over her, wanted to punish her for not obeying and holy hell, she was sexy when she was mad.

The delectable aroma of his arousal reached out to her and Rogue inhaled it deliberately.

“Omigod.” Her eyes widened. “That smells so good.” She leaned into him, raising herself up on her toes so she could place her nose near his neck. Rogue inhaled deeply again. “Wow. You need to bottle that stuff. It must drive women crazy.”

A bit surprised by her sudden change of mood, he slid his hands down her arms to her hips, gripping them tightly. “Jesus,” Logan groaned in frustration. “You can’ talk like that, darlin’.”

Rogue held on to his shoulders, taking in deeper breaths. “Ah don’t believe it.” She ran her gloved fingers along his powerful arms, her body softening against his. “It even has the ability to make me not angry anymore.”

Logan growled, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Good.” His ability to think was deteriorating quickly, her arousal wrapping itself around him.

“In fact,” she said in a breathless voice. “Ah am so turned on right now.”

His arms tightened around her, his growl louder. His blood was rushing to between his legs to support the part of him that was quickly swelling to giant proportions. He was going to explode.

“Good thing you warned me about this or we’d be in big trouble.” Rogue stepped out of his embrace. A strangled sound of confusion squeezed out of his throat.

What the hell?

His arm snaked out to grab her again but she had already skipped up the stairs out of his reach. “Ah suddenly need my B.O.B.” Rogue ran into the mansion, a malicious smile on her face.

Logan dropped to one knee, wincing from the ache between his legs, barely able to process that she had, in fact, left him there. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, her words registered.

Her Bob? Who the hell was Bob? Drake? She needs him?

When he found out later that evening from a highly amused Jubilee who B.O.B. was, Logan decided he had enough.

Light emanating from the single lamp left on in the front foyer rose up through the mansion’s grand staircase, softly illuminating the dark wood steps and paneled walls, casting shadows of its winding banister against the undersides of each landing. A door slowly opened on the third floor and Rogue’s head peaked out, her eyes immediately adjusting to the dimness as she stepped out into the hallway. Closing her bedroom door behind her, she made a face.

The sounds were louder out here.

Long drawn out sighs of familiar shared pleasure from one couple - feminine gasps and masculine moans of recently discovered passion from the other. A piece of her twisted inside, trying hard to pretend it didn’t matter. He didn’t belong to her, she had no right to feel sad, but yet she did, envy eating away at her as she listened to him find comfort in the arms of another. Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes and tried not to envision what Remy was doing to the woman who was whispering his name, what it was that brought out such stunned cries of surrender.

Tears sprung to her eyes. Rogue wanted to be her. Rogue wanted to touch and be touched, to kiss and be kissed. She wanted.

She wanted.

Rogue stepped towards the stairs, wiping tears from her face angrily, needing to get away from the sounds. She always hated this time of night when they thought everyone was asleep and couldn’t hear them. Their love-making kept her up, true, but it wasn’t what woke her up. That particular honor belonged to the dreams of the Wolverine that visited her every night.

Since his return to the mansion she’s been on fire, and it went fever-pitch every time he was near. This non-stop awareness was nerve-wracking, his scent was everywhere - even the faintest hint of it threw her into a state of hyper alertness and Rogue was reaching her breaking point. She couldn’t take much more of it. She had to have him.

The reasons for keeping her hands off him were making less and less sense to her with every passing day. She knew he felt the same way, that nonsense about them only being friends lost credibility a long time ago and her need to punish him for it paled in comparison to her growing hunger for his touch. She knew he wanted her. He knew she wanted him. It was bordering on ridiculous now.

Friends with benefits, she had told him. She couldn’t have made it any more clear.

Her growl of frustration followed her down the stairs. Bad enough she was trapped with poisonous skin, she was in a permanent state of arousal as well. Rogue wanted crazy monkey sex, and she wanted it with the Wolverine. Worse than that, she wasn’t even sure if she had any kind of sex before.

She couldn’t imagine being a virgin – dear lord, she was almost thirty years old. A man like Scott could not have gone two years without some kind of sexual relationship with her.

Scott.

There was a thought. Maybe she could approach the X-Men leader with an arrangement. He would be willing – he practically salivated every time she was in the same room with him and he was most definitely hot. Their previous relationship must have meant there wasn’t the issue of the problem she had with Remy, and she was sure that under that responsible, stalwart veneer there was a passionate, sexually experienced man. Just the shape of his mouth guaranteed it.

Rogue frowned, reaching the first floor and turning quickly towards the staff lounge. No, she couldn’t do that to him. He had admitted he still loved her and she wasn’t that much of a bitch. Besides, her life was screwed-up enough as it was.

Why was she stuck with the Wolverine’s mutation, anyway? The professor told her it was because he stabbed her accidently with his claws, forcing her to absorb him to survive, but it was a diluted reason at best. It didn’t explain why Wolverine’s mutation stayed with her permanently. When she asked for an explanation, the professor evaded her question. As usual.

All in due time. It’s complicated. Be patient.

God, she was sick of it.

They were all in it, the vague responses and half finished sentences becoming as common as the déjà-vu that plagued her every waking hour. This place was full of half-truths and secrets. A month had passed since the loss of her memories and yet she was the only one who accepted that they were gone forever. She needed to move on and she couldn’t do that surrounded by people who forced her to stay in a constant state of limbo because they refused to believe that their precious Anna was gone. She was Rogue, godammit.

She was Rogue.

Switching on the light, Rogue entered the staff lounge and pulled out an ice cream tub from the freezer, impatiently tearing off the top with her teeth while simultaneously grabbing a spoon from a drawer. She scraped around the crater already gouged into the creamy dessert from all the nights previous, bringing the large scoop to her mouth with a grateful moan.

“Your body would appreciate protein more.”

Startled, Rogue jumped off the island counter she had hopped on. Embarrassed, she wiped the chocolate fudge from the sides of her mouth with her thumbs, swallowing the oversized portion with some difficulty. Rogue snapped the lid back on and put the ice cream back in the freezer, surprised she hadn’t been aware he was in the room. She was in worse shape than she thought.

Logan stood up from where he had been sitting on the sofa, hooking his thumbs through the empty belt loops of his jeans as he made his way towards her. Her eyes took in the tight, long sleeved black shirt he was wearing that molded to the delicious muscles under them, curious that he was wearing gloves.

“Are you cold?” Rogue was forced to back up when he stopped too close to her. She looked up at him warily.

“Not at all,” he replied, watching her for a few moments. Logan looked down appreciatively at her bra-less chest. “Are you?”

Rogue fought the urge to cross her arms over top her breasts, throwing the spoon she had used into the sink behind her and giving him a challenging look. The clatter of the metal utensil settling into the aluminum basin rang around them and neither made a move, keeping their eyes on each other. After what seemed to her to be an eternity, he turned sharply to leave.

An unpleasant buzz of disappointment shot through her.

Sighing, Rogue stepped to the sink and washed her hands, viciously tearing a piece of paper towel off its holder and drying her hands with more vigor than was necessary. A click was heard behind her and when she turned to the sound, she was surprised to see him place a chair underneath the knob of the now closed door of the staffroom.

He walked slowly back towards her, the expression on his face predatory, his arousal so thick she could taste it in her throat. Rogue became very aware of thin pajamas bottoms and camisole she was wearing, and the gloves she was not.

Logan took the crushed paper towel from her hands and threw it over his shoulder. “You can’t run away this time.”

He reached for her and suddenly, there was too much of him touching too much of her, his body a black covered specter crowding her. He slid one gloved hand under her top to grab her breast while the other dug into her pants to grab her bottom, lifting her off the floor to fit against him. She pushed at his shoulders, overwhelmed.

“Just a second, cowboy. You need to slow down.”

Logan grunted impatiently and hoisted her onto the counter she had been sitting on earlier, leaning forward to catch a beaded nipple into his mouth, forcefully opening her legs wide to fit between them. Rogue gasped in shock, and when he began to pull at her pants, she grabbed his covered wrists with the intent to stop him.

“Cut it out,” he snapped at her, eyes flashing in warning. “No more games. This is happenin’. Right here, right now.” He pulled her pants off roughly and immediately pressed his gloved hand between her thighs, his fingers pulling aside the crotch of her panties to slip within her folds. He growled in approval. She was very, very wet.

Rogue didn’t know what to do. He was touching her in the most intimate place he could have, and now, his hot mouth was wrapping around her other, equally over-sensitive nipple, his teeth sharp despite the thin cotton barrier of her camisole. She ran her hands over his shoulders, gripping his powerful biceps, frustrated her bare hands prevented her from touching him, wanting so much more but feeling trapped by her exposed skin.

Logan moved his head downwards, his hot breath hovering over her bare stomach before placing his hands on either side of the slip of cotton covering her between her legs. Stretching it flat, he nuzzled his nose against her, making her buck as he deeply inhaled her.

“Oh god, you’re… that's too much. Ah can’t, Ah can’t…”

“You can’t what?” she heard him say tauntingly before flattening his tongue and pushing it against her. Rogue lost coherent thought and Logan hardened his tongue to nudge her tiny, swollen center, her thighs twitching with each jab. She spiraled into mindlessness and her entire body began to shake.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” She drew her legs further apart and moaned, placing her feet on the counter’s edge for stability. She bent one arm behind her for support and tangled the other into his hair, almost screaming when he blew a hot breath against her rewardingly. “Oh god, that is just so…so…”

“Good. It’s just so good, darlin’,” he clarified for her, the rumble of his soft laughter adding to the sensations crashing through her. He began to swirl his tongue around her, his thumbs digging into the valley where her legs met her hips, his fingers cupping her to lift her more into his mouth. His teeth briefly nipped her before his lips tightly captured the compact bundle of nerves to suck on it.

Rogue whimpered, louder and louder as the pressure inside her built higher and higher. She threw herself backward, her hair falling down towards the floor as her head hung over the edge of the island, aware only of what he was doing with his gloriously talented mouth, the sounds of his mouth feasting on her filling her ears. He hooked her legs over his shoulders and grabbed her hips to keep her in place, breathing harder and faster, sucking harder and faster, his groans vibrating against her. She was shaking uncontrollably, her skin breaking out into a rash of goose-bumps and her back arched off the counter, knowing she was so close, so close.

Logan looked up at her, the desperate sounds coming out of her throat telling him she was going to come, her body so hot he could see waves radiating off it. Clenching his hands into fists, Logan gathered all the willpower he had and channeled it into a tremendous effort to bring himself under control.

And forced himself to stop.

Rogue opened her eyes and blinked several times at the upside down sofa directly in her line of vision.

She waited, thinking he was teasing her - a variation of a stop and go to draw the pleasure out - but when she felt the heat of his mouth disappear, her legs dropping down without the aid of his broad shoulders to hold them up anymore, she realized that he stopped.

Completely.

Logan watched the muscles of her stomach bunch together tightly as she awkwardly brought herself back up into a sitting position, bracing herself with her arms to stay upright. He stood up, face expressionless, and crossed his large arms over his chest.

“Are you for real?” Her voice didn't sound right. Rogue cleared her throat, and tried again. “You can’t stop now. Ah’m not there yet.”

There went that damn eyebrow. “You’re not where, yet?”

“You know. There. Ah need more.” She closed her legs, a soft moan escaping her from the slight pressure it gave. “You stopped too soon.”

Logan shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry. Tongue got tired.”

She paused. “Use your fingers.”

He lifted them from where they were resting on his biceps. “They’re kind of tired too.” He looked as surprised as her.

She stared at him. Realization dawned in her eyes and they caught fire. “You bastard.”

Logan’s face hardened. He could do this. Just a few minutes, to get his point across, to teach her a lesson. Okay, a minute. He could last a minute. That should be enough punishment.

He shifted in his too tight jeans.

Make that seconds.

Logan watched as Rogue pulled down the straps of her camisole, exposing her breasts to pinch their hardened tips between her fingers, keeping her eyes on his. His mouth dropped open in shock when she released one to push a hand under the band of her panties, closing her eyes as she reopened her legs, her fingers sliding between them.

Hearing his sharp intake of breath, she reminded him, “Ah don’t need you, Wolverine.” She slipped a finger into herself, then another, and released a pleasure-filled groan as she plunged them deep inside her, her thumb pressing down on her throbbing centre.

The scent of his anger hit her harder than the scent of his heightened arousal. Suddenly, her underwear was ripped away in one, vicious movement and eyes shooting open, she felt a tickle of fear at the sight of his face, darkened with lust and fury. He removed her hand and gripped it painfully in his.

“You do need me.”

Her mouth became very dry. With a low growl, he slipped his gloved finger inside her and her eyes widened, the digit thicker and longer that her two combined, stretching and filling her. She tightened around it, her hips tilting to push more into her, leaning back to give him better access. He curled it forward, making her shiver powerfully.

She held his hand in place.

“You’re going to finish this, right?” She didn’t trust him.

He gave her a snarl for an answer and pressed his thumb against her in hard tight circles. She threw her head back, a long drawn out groan coming out of her as he pumped his finger inside her, twisting it on the way in, withdrawing it slowly on the way out. His free hand curled around her throat, his thumb ghosting over the blue vein pumping hard along it, before sliding along her collarbone to cup a heavy breast into his palm. Rogue braced her arms behind her, trembling now, and when she felt a harsh rush of intense pleasure push through her, she cried out, spreading her arms out to collapse back onto the counter. Her head fell over the edge again and she ran her hands overtop her quivering breasts, grabbing at them and pulling her nipples as aftershocks of her orgasm chased over her entire body.

“Hot damn.”

She smiled. He sounded impressed with himself. A surprised gasp escaped her when he dug an arm under her waist to pull her up.

“You are the sexiest woman I have ever fucking seen,” he told her honestly, bringing her closer to him, cupping both breasts with his hands and running his thumbs overtop them. God, how he missed them. She draped her arms around his shoulders, careful to avoid his bare neck.

“That’s no way to talk to a lady, sugah,” she admonished him, sighing in pleasure when he rolled the pebbled tips of her nipples between his fingers.

Logan unzipped his jeans and pulled himself out. “Darlin’, I don’t want no lady.” Looking down at him, her tart response died on her lips.

He was huge.

“Ah don’t think Ah can handle that.” The size of him guaranteed it was going to hurt, whether she was a virgin or not. She watched as he began to stroke himself, and she promptly forgot how to breathe. He became impossibly bigger.

With his free hand, Logan pulled out a small square packet from his back pocket and brought it to his mouth to bite off the corner to expose the condom he quickly rolled on. Almost impatiently, he grabbed her hand and curled her fingers around him, hissing at the contact. When her small fingers failed to encircle him completely, Logan grabbed her other hand to wrap around him as well.

His hand tightened over hers. “Be careful not to go all the way down. I couldn’t find condoms big enough to fit.”

Omigod.

Tentatively, Rogue began to stroke him, fascinated by the size and feel of him despite the thin layer of latex. Moaning, he dropped his head forward to watch, the sight of her bare hands around him making him swell even larger, spreading her fingers even more apart. Thinking she did something wrong, she loosened her hold and Logan quickly put his hand overtop hers again with a strangled gasp.

“No,” he bit out, his jaw clenched. “Tighter, darlin’. Hold me tighter. And go faster.”

Oh.

She did as he told her and he growled, placing his arms on the counter for support, the tense muscles rippling on either side of her. She liked having the powerful and strong Wolverine vulnerable and dependant on her. She liked it a lot. Rogue slowed down to find out just how much power she had and he growled.

“Don’t. Stop.” He was breathing heavier now and his hips pushed forward in frustration. He wasn’t begging but she knew he was getting angry. Rogue realized that she liked that too. Deciding she would explore that another time, she resumed her stroking.

“That’s it, sugah,” she whispered near his ear, encouraging him as she picked up the pace, pumping him harder and faster now. She loved how he was shaking, loved the sounds that originated deep in his chest and escaped through his throat. “You’re going to come for me, Wolverine. All of you. For me.”

And he did, loudly swearing out his pleasure, thrusting desperately into her palms, holding her hands because she had become dangerously close to the base of him where his skin was exposed. Logan buried his face in her hair, the heat coming off him adding to hers, utterly spent and startled from the force of his release.

It took him a couple of minutes to recover and she didn’t move, enjoying the smell of him, of her, scenting the air. With a final shiver that ran across his shoulders and down his arms, he let go of her hands and discarded the condom in the bin under the sink. With a grin, he bent down to pick up her pajama bottoms and she put them on, hopping off the counter to pull them over her hips.

“That,” she told him with a grin of her own, “was a lot of fun.”

Logan laughed, tucking her torn panties into the back pocket of his jeans. He pulled up the straps of her camisole back onto her shoulders and took her into his arms. “I agree, darlin’.”

“Looks like Ah’m past my hang up of being touched.”

He looked at her, confused. “What hang up?”

Rogue shrugged negligently. “It doesn’t matter. It’s fixed now.” Distracted, she placed her hands on his pectorals, giving them an experimental squeeze. Yep. No give at all. They were like rock.

Logan pulled back to look at her. “What’s fixed now?”

Seeing he was curious, she replied, “For some reason Ah couldn’t stay turned on when someone touched me. You’ve just proven that Ah can, thank god. Ah was getting worried.” Rogue moved into his arms again, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Someone’s tried to touch you?”

Rogue was surprised at the tone of his voice. He sounded angry. She looked up at him, confused. “Yeah, someone’s ‘tried’ to touch me. So?”

His eyes became so dark, they were almost black. “No one can touch you.”

She stared at him.

“If anyone touches you, I will kill them. Do you understand, Marie? I will kill them.” His threat was ugly, making his face twist with it and she pushed him away from her, annoyed.

“You’re acting like Ah’m your property or something.” She glared at him. “And my name is Rogue.”

He grabbed her face with his hand. “Obey me on this. No one touches you. Ever.”

“Obey you?” Anger was beginning to build inside of her and she slapped his hand away. “Ah will touch whoever Ah want, when Ah want, how Ah want. You don’t own me.” She brushed past him to leave but suddenly she found herself slammed up against the wall, his harsh breathing hot on her face.

The memory of a feral male’s scent came crashing over him. It was so powerful, so vivid, that he could almost smell it. That other feral's scent that had been on her.

His mate.

White hot rage lashed through him and Logan felt himself slip perilously close into a berserker rage. Rogue was aware something was wrong. The growl that had begun in his chest had become much louder, his scent much stronger, wrapping itself around her. It was more potent than she ever smelled it being and seeing the split in his irises, she realized the feral in him had taken over.

Time passed. He lowered his head and sniffed the base of her throat, his growl consistent, menacing. Rogue was terrified he was going to touch her bare skin, her fear of getting a double dose of his mutation making her stay very still. Her behavior seemed to make him angrier and he lifted his head to look into her eyes. “He touched you.”

She shook her head, thinking he meant Remy. “He tried. He stopped.” She winced when his growl turned into a roar.

“I smelled him on you!” His hands ran over her, fingers digging possessively into her skin, pressing and kneading her flesh. Not knowing what to do, Rogue grabbed his hands, forcing him to stop.

“You smelled Remy?”

He grabbed her hair, snapping her head back painfully. “I am going to kill him.”

“But nothing happened between us.” Rogue’s fear grew. He seemed to be getting worse. “Ah swear.”

“He tried to mark you.”

Mark her? Remy never tried to mark her. “You’re talking about someone else, aren’t you?”

His growl took on an even more murderous timber.

“You have to tell me who you’re talking about. Who tried to mark me?” She was so confused. Rogue didn’t understand what was happening.

Logan closed his eyes and she watched carefully as he slowly regained control, his grip on her hair loosening, his breath becoming deep and steady again. Finally, he stepped away from her, his entire body trembling with restraint as he ran his hands agitatedly through his hair.

“I mean it, Marie. I’m gonna find him. And when I do, I’m gonna kill him.” His voice stayed hard. His eyes were hazel again, but they were still flaring dangerously, his fury barely contained.

She brought her hands down to her sides, hating that she didn’t have her gloves on. “Ah don’t know who you’re talking about.”

He turned away from her abruptly and pulled the chair away from the door, opening it wide. Logan felt like he was suffocating.

“Did he fuck you, Marie?”

Her back went up. Now he was pissing her off.

Narrowing her eyes, she replied, “Maybe if you gave me his name, Ah can check it against the list.”

Logan moved to grab her again, another roar escaping him, but she was ready this time and jumped back, putting enough distance between them. Stalking her around the island counter, he spat out, “I smelled him on you the night you were rescued. Who was he, Marie? What does he mean to you?”

“Ah don’t know who you’re talking about!” She was getting frustrated. “There wasn’t anyone there when Ah woke up in my old room that night. Ask the professor, he had access to my thoughts at the time. Ask him if someone ‘touched’ me.”

She was telling the truth. She didn’t remember. But the scent of another alpha male had definitely been on her and this alpha had wanted his mate. And there was something peculiar about this scent. Something familiar.

“Wolverine?”

She pulled him out of his thoughts. The steel in his voice matched his eyes. “No one can touch you, Marie.”

Animal barely on a leash or not, Rogue had it.

“Listen to me good, Wolverine. You’re obviously going through some kind of feral-man-scent thing right now and you have my sympathy because Ah’ve learned there’s some downsides to your mutation. Remy did mention some nonsense about you marking me.” She shook her hair off her face and placed her hands haughtily on her hips. “But that shit doesn’t fly with me. So stop this whole, ‘me Tarzan you Jane’ crap. This woman doesn’t get off on it.”

She moved to leave and again, Logan reached over the counter to stop her. Rogue snatched away the hand he tried to grab and pulled it back into a fist, dropping into a fighting stance. She was more than willing to take him on.

Logan dropped his hands and kept them by his sides. “Just remember what I said, Marie.”

Rogue rolled her eyes derisively. This whole machismo act was getting old. Unimpressed, she straightened up and walked out the door, shooting over her shoulder, “Because you marked me, right? Give me a break, Wolfman. You just remember that my name is Rogue.”

Logan didn’t try to stop her. He stood there and listened to her bare feet making contact with wooden stairs, making her way up to the third floor until the sound of her bedroom door opening and closing drifted back down to him.

To him, it was an audible reminder of the growing barrier between them.

You’re wrong Marie. It’s not because I marked you. It’s because you marked me.

Logan closed his eyes. He needed to get her memories back.

Where are you, Momma? Ah need you.


Mystique turned her head, the fingers she had pressed against her temples doing little to offset the dull ache behind them. The pain was nowhere near the intensity it had been before, but the fear and confusion in her foster daughter’s voice still tore at her. And it was Rogue’s voice. If Mystique hadn’t been a thousand miles in the air trapped inside a metal fuselage when she first heard her, she would have raced to her daughter’s aid. Rogue’s terrified voice swirled in her mind ever since.


Where are you, Momma?


Mystique couldn’t understand how Rogue managed to reach out to her, or why she sounded so afraid. The X-Men were a tight little group. Surely they wouldn’t punish Rogue over the revelation of their relationship.

Would they?

The flight to Japan had been a silent one. Blindspot kept to herself and Mystique was glad for it. The easy defeat she had suffered at the hands of the X-Men paled in comparison to the helplessness she felt hearing Rogue’s desperate cry for help. Those do-gooder fools arrived too soon, she never got the opportunity to talk to her daughter – to explain, to defend, to hopefully reconcile. And now her Anna Marie was gone, trapped with those idiots once more.

Mystique looked over to where Blindspot and Kimura were sitting, the two women glaring at each other over the kitchen table where they were eating breakfast. Being in the company of these rabid females only added to her restlessness. The wait was becoming unacceptable – she needed to get back to the States. She needed to make sure her daughter was alright.


Ah need you.


Mystique winced and walked over to the penthouse window, her hands resting on her folded forearms. Swallowing hard, she struggled to keep her emotions in check. What a waste the past fifteen years had been. If only Destiny told her about her premonitions, she would have been able to protect their daughter, would have been able to ensure her safety, would have prevented all this loss and heartache. How different all their lives would have been if her dead lover had trusted in her.

Mystique looked down at the busy Tokyo harbor below, her eyes tracking the vessels docked at the Harumi Passenger Ship Terminal. Contempt flooded through her as she watched the fireboats put on their daily water spray show, the display eliciting excited facial expressions from the throngs of tourists that crowded onto the harbor’s observation deck.

Disgusting humans and their insignificant lives.

Humanity’s fear of mutants should be encouraged, not alleviated. The continuing efforts of Charles Xavier and his kind to co-exist peacefully with them were setting mutants' rightful place as the dominant species back decades. Magneto was right about one thing. The war the X-Men aimed to avoid was already at their doorstep and their refusal to acknowledge it forced enlightened mutants like her to pick up the slack. Mutants like her daughter.

Rogue was a born warrior. Mystique had groomed her, taught her everything she knew and Rogue had become a powerful weapon in the hands of the Brotherhood. It was hard for Mystique to imagine her fiery daughter choosing to wallow in the coddled world of the X-Men, why she would throw her support behind the Xavier’s absurd philosophy of protecting those who were bent on persecuting them. Jean Grey had known better, she saw through her benefactor’s façade and managed to break free of his hold. Charles Xavier had only himself to blame for his protégé’s death.

Real fear took hold of Mystique, thinking of the destruction the god-like Phoenix had caused. She could only hope he hadn’t made that same mistake with her daughter.

Daken was still pushing Osborne to enlist Rogue into the team and although Mystique would love to have her daughter by her side, she argued against it at every turn. She couldn’t imagine the X-Men and the Avengers ever accepting Rogue joining their new group and told the H.A.M.M.E.R. director as much. But the real reason was because she needed to keep her daughter as far away as possible from Daken. His growing obsession with her was disturbing.

Deep male laughter brought her out of her thoughts and she frowned, seeing Daken walk out of his bedroom with an almost nude Moonstar. He stopped in the center of the room and kissed the curvaceous blonde, making the glares of the women in the kitchen turn jealously towards them. Aware of his audience, Daken deepened the kiss before pulling out his erection and pushing Moonstar down to her knees in front of him.

The blue-skinned mutant looked at him impassively when he caught her eye, a small smile lifting the corners of his cruel mouth.


*****


Jubilee was in Rogue’s room, reaching for a pair of gold hoop ear rings from the vanity table and putting them on when Rogue indicated she could. She backed away to face the mirror, turning this way and that, her face reflecting her indecision. Rogue ignored her. She learned the hard way that it was best to let Jubilee burn herself out when it came to picking out her outfits.

“Seriously – this look okay?”

Rogue tapped a wand of mascara to the ends of her eyelashes and stayed quiet.

“Maybe I should go with the skirt.”

Rogue opened her mouth, and then snapped it shut. Jubilee let out a sound of frustration. “Chica, you sure take a long time to get ready!”

Rogue gritted her teeth and put on a final swipe of blood red lipstick to her mouth, muttering, “Sorry,” before pressing her lips together. The thought that it was, in fact, Jubilee’s fault they were late stayed prudently within her mind. That was another thing Rogue learned. Never get into a debate with the firework wielding mutant. There was no winning. Ever.

Still looking unsatisfied with her choice, Jubilee sighed dramatically and retrieved her purse from on top of Rogue’s bed where she had thrown it earlier. “You know,” she said carefully, “Wolvie isn’t too happy about tonight.”

Jubilee’s ears were still ringing from the blistering lecture she got from the angry feral earlier in the day. Logan confronted her on the shopping trip she took Rogue on and he almost went ballistic when she mentioned that she was taking Rogue out again. It was starting to freak her out how easily he lost his temper when it came to Rogue, and even worse, how Rogue seemed to enjoy pushing him to lose it. Jubilee was finding herself in the middle of their arguments little too much lately, and it was not a good place to be.

Rogue stood up straight and snapped closed her own purse, pulling the tiny strap around a shoulder and facing her friend. “Wolverine’s happiness is not on my to-do list, Jubes.” She pulled on a pair of opera length red leather gloves and changed the subject.

“Let’s skidaddle, my hot friend. You promised me a night on the town, and tonight’s the only night available before you leave on assignment with Gambit tomorrow. Time’s a’wastin’.”

Jubilee followed her out the door, suggesting, “You don’t have to go with me. What about Kurt and Colossus?” Maybe that way Logan would stop growling at me and share the love, she thought to herself with a rueful grimace.

Rogue let out a bark of laughter, the sound bouncing off the walls of the hallway. “A gay man and a former Catholic priest initiate escorting me to a ladies’ night at the local hotspot? No way, Ah need my wingwoman.”

“Hey! You’re MY wingwoman!”

The two women continued to argue good naturedly as their heels stomped noisily down the stairs, alerting an already very agitated Logan pacing in the common room. Catching sight of him, Jubilee tried to escape quickly, pulling Rogue by the arm towards the foyer but Logan intercepted them, scowling.

“Where’s the rest of your clothes?” His voice was a growl.

Rogue stopped in her tracks. He looked delicious, all mad and fuming. Smiling, she winked at Jubilee and remarked, “Ooh. He’s cute and clever.”

Logan stepped closer and looked disapprovingly at her outfit. “Yer skin’s lethal.”

Rogue’s eyes widened as though shocked. “What? It is?”

The muscles along his jaw were working furiously. “I told you before, yer not funny. This is a bad idea, it’s too dangerous. I’m coming with you.”

Her smirk vanished and Rogue got right in his face. “No. Fucking. Way. Ah told you before, you’re not invited. If you try to sneak in to the club, Ah’ll smell you and Ah’ll call off our arrangement.”

His chest heaved with anger. “It’s not safe, Marie.”

“Rogue,” she instantly corrected him. It had gotten to be a routine between them. He refused to call her Rogue and she refused to let him get away with it. It became a part of every single conversation they had.

“The more protection you have, the better. Think about it.” Logan tried to sound helpful, but failed miserably. He didn’t want her going out, period.

Rogue shrugged and shifted her weight onto one hip, folding her arms across her chest. “Here’s something to think about. How about Ah go into New York City instead of Salem Center? How about Ah go out on my own instead of with Jubilee? How about Ah have no back-up plan instead of having Kurt on standby? How about Ah do whatever the hell Ah want? What do you think about that?”

Logan glared at her.

“Right.” Rogue stepped towards the full length mirror nearby and checked out her reflection.

The skin tight, red leather pants fit against her like they were poured on, the matching, crisscrossing halter top just as snug against her breasts. She adjusted the opera length red leather gloves, eyeing herself critically. Rogue looked hot and she knew it. Her black, knee-high leather boots clung to her calves and she spun expertly on their steep heels, the riot of dark curls and waves that framed her heavily made up face flowing over her bare shoulders. She pulled at the white streak and twirled it around her finger, walking slowly back to where Logan was glowering at her.

“Ah’ll try to keep my hands off the Yankee boys,” she told him, thickening her accent and holding her arm out to Jubilee.

Logan turned to Jubilee for support but she lifted both hands in defeat, before linking her arm through Rogue’s. “My instructions are clear. I go where she goes.”

His face reflected his disapproval of her as well, her get-up not too much different in her trademark yellow and she grinned, popping her gum loudly at him before allowing Rogue to lead her outside to the taxi waiting for them.


*****


As soon as the two women arrived at ‘Wannabe’s,’ they were ushered in by the bouncers, bypassing the long lineup that snaked along the sidewalk outside the popular night club. The pounding beat of house music assailed Rogue’s senses and she surrendered to its rhythm, her hips swaying as strobe lights flashed all around her. A path was cleared through the mob of people by the two bouncers assigned to her and Jubilee, the burly men leading them to one of the special VIP cages suspended over the expansive dance floor.

Jubilee was already enjoying herself, jerking her body in time to the music and waving at various people she knew. She pulled on the bars as though she was a prisoner, screaming, and the appreciative crowd below screamed back. Laughing, Rogue grabbed a bottle of vodka from the personal bar and began to chug it down her throat.

Jubilee shot her a concerned look and Rogue yelled, “Pesky healing factor!”

Jubilee put a hand to her ear, indicating she couldn’t hear her. Rogue feigned a gun-shot to her head, followed by her eyes popping wide open as though revived. Jubilee waved her hands at her in understanding, laughing hysterically and Rogue laughed along with her, passing the bottle to the beautiful Asian woman who took a swig of the clear, tasteless alcohol.

Rogue looked around, pleased to see that most of club-goers were fixated on the two of them. It felt so good to be away from the mansion, she never realized how much of a prisoner she felt until tonight, grabbing one of the bars and giving it a good shake. Enjoying the attention, she began to dance, throwing her hands in the air as she swung her hair about, many of the patrons below shouting out to her as she rotated her body to the blasting music.

The bouncers stood directly below them to prevent anyone from entering the private booth, their massive arms folded across equally impressive chests. The Wolverine was quite clear. If anyone came near these women, it was their heads on a platter. They weren’t going anywhere.

Rogue drank heavily over the next few hours, sometimes pouring alcohol into the open mouths of the crowd below, but mostly pouring it down her own. She was feeling good, finally able to hang on to a good buzz, and she danced and danced, becoming mesmerized by the lights that remained focused on her and Jubilee as she maintained a copious amount of alcohol in her system.

Jubilee collapsed onto the purple leather sofa that lined the back of the VIP booth, realizing that maybe she had a little too much to drink. She blinked several times before being able to focus on Rogue, barely aware of someone climbing into the cage. Rogue grabbed the intruder and threw him onto the ground, her knee jamming into his throat before he could inadvertently touch her skin. She smiled when the young man could only stare at her, obviously infatuated. Rogue pulled him up and passed him down towards the bouncers who quickly became overwhelmed by the surge of the crowd, some now clambering to enter the cage as well.

“Shit!” Jubilee exclaimed, jumping up and seeing the commotion below them, “We need to get out of here, chica. Pronto.”

Rogue eyed the four empty bottles on the floor of the cage balefully, agreeing. Shit. Shit. Shit. She was too drunk. Way too drunk to be able to make it through the mob of people underneath her, several of whom were already hanging off the bottom of the cage.

Jubilee climbed out onto the top of the booth, holding her hand out to Rogue to follow. Rogue did so, unsteadily, and Jubilee barely caught her hand in time when she almost lost her footing, the chanting crowd below lifting their arms eagerly to grab her. Jubilee sighed resignedly as she pulled Rogue up to sit next to her. Time to call in the cavalry.

“Come and get us elf!” she yelled into her tele-link, wrapping an arm around her inebriated friend. Rogue meanwhile was clinging to the bars for support, the crowd beneath her frenzied. She giggled. This was funny.

Suddenly, the loud music of the club vanished completely, as did its flashing lights. Rogue found herself in the foyer of the X-mansion, the smell of sulphur combined with the dizzying effect of teleporting making her fall to her knees, sickened.

“Oh crap, chica!” Jubilee’s voice came from the side of her, sympathetic but amused as well. “You look awful!”

Rogue leaned forward on all fours and closed her eyes to stop the vicious spinning the floor was currently engaged in. “Fuck, Jubes. I’m gonna hurl.”

A low growl came from somewhere above her. “Goddamnit, Marie! What the hell were you thinking?”

Uh oh, Rogue thought, her mouth lining itself with thick saliva that preceded the bile that was coming up fast through her esophagus. She wasn’t feeling too good.

Swallowing, she kept her head down and managed to gasp out, “My name - you fucking asshole - is Rogue.” And then she moaned before lying down across the floor.

Rogue felt herself picked up by strong arms and her head rolled back, landing against a heavily muscled chest. She couldn’t trust herself to look up, dizziness still threatening to win the battle so she snuggled against Logan, squeezing her eyes shut at the multiple grinning Nightcrawlers and the equal number of disapproving Gambits and laughing Jubilees. The jarring footsteps up the stairs did little to stop the nausea she felt, but the scrumptious aroma of the Wolverine helped.

Rogue smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and rubbing her cheek against him.

He smelled so good.

Rogue counted the steps in an effort to distract herself, relieved that by the time he was striding down the hallway towards her room, the nausea had gone away. She almost sighed when she caught sight of her bed. Sweet oblivion was almost at hand.

Except that Logan strode directly into her bathroom and dumped her into the tub.

Rogue gasped in shock as cold water sprayed on her from the shower head he wielded, sobriety rushing towards her. She scrambled to get up but Logan held her down easily with his free hand, wordlessly continuing his aquatic assault with a stony expression on his face. He ruthlessly soaked her, plastering her hair against her face, making her eye makeup run in rivers of black ooze down her face. Screaming, she kicked her leg upwards, trying to land it against the side of his head but he easily evaded it, deliberately spraying the water at her nose and mouth to effectively block her ability to breathe.

“Cut it out.’” His voice was calm but she knew better. Wolverine was absolutely furious.

Rogue fought him. He stopped her from pulling off her gloves, an already difficult task due to their wet condition, and held both her hands effortlessly in one of his while swatting away her kicks with the other. Frustrated at how easily he physically overpowered her, Rogue went with her only option.

She kissed him.

It was just a quick pressing of her bare lips to his, an instant long and meant to weaken his hold, but it was enough. The imagery that flew into her mind caused Rogue to recoil from him, aghast.

Logan’s hands slackened and she immediately broke free of him, jumping out of the bathtub and gasping. Memories of him – them – assailed her, and she clutched her throat from the sudden tightness there, staring at the man whose memories were now crashing into her mind. Seeing the look on her face, he weakly reached for her, falling to one knee when he tried to stand.

“Wait, darlin’. Let me explain.”

Rogue was shaking her head, her eyes looking straight through him as she retreated into her mind. She saw herself being made love to - kissed – touched - tasted – and overwhelmed, she backed further away from him, unable to accept what she was seeing. Images of her astride him, having him deep inside her, flashed across her consciousness like a slideshow on fast forward and she put her hands to her mouth, shocked.

“How?” she whispered as she backed even further away from him, staring at her hands, then at him. Logan growled, smelling her fear and disbelief and she flinched at the sound before spinning around and racing out of her bedroom. He swore, yelling at her to stay but she ran and ran, desperate to get away from him.


There’s something about you. It’s setting me on fire.


Her face had been so earnest, her eyes so hopeful. She threw the memory away, humiliated.


What are you not telling me? What are you holding back?


God, she had been a fool. She should have known. It was all there, all this time and she had been blind to it, caught up in her upside-down world. Her and the Wolverine. No. Not Rogue. Marie.

His precious Marie.

Rogue tried to shut his memories away as she ran out into the night, barely aware that it had begun to rain, lightning flashing across the cloud-filled sky. She hesitated as his psyche relentlessly poured through her, her heels digging into the soft grass of the sports-field as the wall she tried to shore up in her mind was destroyed by his powerful personality. He was demanding she go back to him, yelling at her to accept the truth but she grabbed at her head and screamed, sprinting towards the forest as more and more images of them together assaulted her.

His memories came at her hard and fast - the first time he laid eyes on her - trying to grab her hand in his truck – her asking if his claws hurt - her screams when he flew out the windshield of his truck – his anger when he woke up in the med bay without her there – his screams for help when he stabbed her…

Everything.

Rogue reached an open clearing and stopped in the centre of it, wavering slightly before falling to the muddy ground, overcome. Wolverine’s feelings for her were too intense; they rolled over her, obliterating her ability to cope, crippling her as they continued to claim her mind. She ripped off her ruined gloves and threw them away, needing to see if the hands she saw in his memories were truly hers, needing to confirm what her mind was forcing her to accept. Hard rain poured down on her as she stretched out her fingers, staring at them like they were absurd growths springing from the ends of her arms.

Rogue refused to believe she used to have control of her skin, that she was able to make love and be made love to, that she had known what it felt to feel bare, warm skin against her own. That she had known what it felt to be kissed. Truly, truly kissed.

She had been able to touch.

With a mournful howl, Rogue buried her hands into the wet clay beside her, wishing the muddy ground would open up so she could disappear under the earth forever.


I love you, Anna Marie D’Ancanto. I always have, darlin’. I always will. Forever.


Lightning flashed overhead and she saw him at the edge of the clearing, his face in shadows.

The sound of thunder rolled above them, drowning out the frantic beat of her heart. Rogue looked away from him, digging her hands even deeper into the mud as the rain began to taper off. Logan dropped down on his knees in front of her, his face a mask of misery.

“I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

The rain stopped completely. Rogue winced at his admission, the effort to breathe, to speak almost impossible from the pain that coated her throat.

“You love me.”

Rogue said this softly, accusingly. She looked at him, her eyes shining with anger and betrayal.

“I do.” He grabbed her thighs and slid her towards him. “So much that I can’t breathe right.”

Rogue tried to move away, but his grip tightened, preventing her escape. She averted her face and began to cry, telling him, “But Ah don’t remember. Ah don’t remember a thing. Ah don’t remembering being Marie, Ah don’t know who she is.”

She moaned from the ache that was growing inside her. Her muddied hands slapped his as she tried to scramble away, but Logan’s hand shot out and grabbed her ankle, making her fall onto the ground. He dragged her back to him, and his hands reached for her, drawing her close.

“She’s you.” His voice was hoarse and he took her face into his hands, her hair acting as a barrier. Logan forced her to look into his eyes. “Marie is you.”

Rogue shook her head and stood up abruptly, looking down at him, stricken. “Ah am NOT Marie. Ah’m...Ah’m …Rogue. That’s who Ah am. Ah don’t know you. Ah don’t remember seeing you in that bar, Ah don’t remember you promising to take care of me on that train, Ah don’t remember you saving my life!” She gasped, forcing air down her constricted throat. Rogue closed her eyes, unable to bear the heartbreak she saw growing in his.

“Ah don’t remember you,” she whispered. “Ah don’t remember loving you.”

Her words sliced into him, sharp and painful. Moments passed and Rogue could hear his ragged breathing, his anguish heavy around her. Her eyes shot open when she felt his fingers lace through hers and she stared at their hands, intertwined and protected by the thick mud between them. Startled, she looked into his eyes and was immediately lost in their darkened depths.

Pure fire raced through her entire body.

Tentatively, she reached out and touched his face, the mud from her fingers streaking across his stubbled cheek. “Ah don’t want to hurt you, Wolverine. Ah can’t touch you.” She held back nothing, allowing him to see in her eyes how desperately she wanted to touch him. For him to touch her.

Logan punched his fists powerfully into the ground, sinking his arms deep into the wet earth before pulling them out, coated with mud. He placed his hands on her bare stomach and fluttered his eyes closed at the feel of her and she ran her fingers carefully through his hair, holding back tears.

She could see how desperately he missed his Marie.

Rogue knelt down in front of him and took his other muddied hand into hers, placing it on her throat. She unhooked the back of the halter top, letting it fall away, and made his hand slide downwards, keeping her eyes on his. She could hear his breath catch as he cupped her bared breasts, coating them with mud, his fingers kneading and caressing the firm but soft globes. Rogue dropped her head back, enjoying the slick feel of his large hands, keeping her hands overtop his as she released a sigh of pleasure as they moved across her skin.

Logan covered her with the wet clay, his hands caressing every inch before taking off his shirt to press his bare chest against hers. He lay her gently onto the ground, his lips touching the wet hair by her ear, murmuring, “Marie. Marie.”

She shut the name out, wordlessly replacing it with another.

It’s Rogue. Rogue.

His hands continued to touch her, over top her shoulders and down her back, slipping around her waist and gliding up her stomach to re-fondle her breasts before pinching their tips. He placed himself between her legs and her hands grasped his jean-clad hips to keep him there as she lifted her hips to meet him, her hot softness molded against his steeled hardness.

But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more, he wanted more. They needed more.

Lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a crash of thunder. Suddenly, the skies ripped open and water began to pour down on them in torrents, hitting them and ripping into the ground like machinegun fire. The mud began to wash away from their bodies and Rogue frantically pushed him away, frightened as his skin became more and more exposed to her. Logan dropped his hands into fists by his sides, his face a mask of torment as he watched the driving rain rinse away the clay from her beautiful body, making her skin untouchable once more.

With a ragged sob, Rogue slowly stood up and wrapped her arms around her trembling, naked torso, her shoulders hunched over in defeat.

“NO!”

The sound was torn from him and she instinctively reached out to him, stopping just short of caressing his face, his eyes staring at her extended hand. Swallowing hard, she curled her fingers into her palm, her nails digging into the flesh before dropping her hand away from him. Their eyes locked and neither could move, trapped in each other’s tortured gazes.

The rain came down even harder. Lightning cracked above them, bathing them briefly in its harsh glow and Logan saw her tears through the sheets of water. So sad, so alone. So broken.

His beautiful Marie.

With a roar, Logan stood up and took her in his arms, capturing her mouth in a ravenous kiss.

Rogue tried to push him away but he held her tightly, not caring as agonizing pain wracked through him, not caring that his healing factor couldn’t keep up because he was already dying. Dying without his Marie.

His emotions consumed her, his want, his need, his love and she stopped fighting him with a whimper, returning his kiss, taking him all and feeling as though his very soul was pouring into her.

Rogue caught him as he continued to weaken, both of them dropping to the ground from his deadening weight. She cried, clutching his body with desperate hands to hold him close as he slumped against her, never ending his kiss, still wanting to taste her. Rogue pushed his hair away from his face and realized, with stunning clarity, that she loved him.

She loved him.

The pull stopped.

Rogue broke free, startled, but Logan managed to grip the back of her neck with the little strength he had left and forced her to kiss him again, greedily taking what he could. She surrendered, sharing his anguish as she waited for her skin to turn on again, sure that it would.

It didn’t.

Swallowing back grateful sobs, Rogue slid her lips over his desperately, savoring the sweet flavor of him, holding his face tenderly in her hands. She felt one limp arm wrap itself around her waist, lightly at first, then stronger and Rogue could almost hear his muscles regain their strength, his other arm moving to support his weight against the ground. His entire body trembled powerfully from the effort, but he managed to raise himself up onto his knees, forcing her head up as he took back control of his kiss.

She heard his claws ring out and felt them slice along her hips and thighs, her legs stinging where he scratched her. The rain washed away the trickle of blood as the cuts immediately healed and grabbing both sides of the ruined leather with his hands, he pulled them sharply apart, tearing them from under her boots and from her body.

The cold rain was shocking against the heat of her naked skin and he reared back on his heels, pulling apart his jeans and pushing them past his hips with quick, impatient movements. Rogue gasped, seeing him engorged and large and she suddenly became afraid, confused because she knew they had been together before but still not knowing what to expect.

He immediately plunged himself deep inside her.

Rogue held back a cry as she stretched painfully to accommodate him, biting her lip from the pain, so buried he was in her that she felt lanced to the ground, unable to move. Rogue choked back her sorrow, and he looked sharply at her, concerned, but she shut her eyes and turned her face away. She fought away his memory of their first time together, rejecting it, hating it, wishing she had her own. Her own memory of being made love to.


I’m yours. I belong to you.


Tears streamed down her face, knowing that he didn’t belong to her, but to his precious Marie.

Pushing aside the confusing heartache she felt, Rogue lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist and digging her heels into the small of his back to take more of him into her, to push away the emotional pain. Growling in response, he began to slam into her, powerfully hammering his body into hers as his hands gripped her thighs to pull and push her body against him to meet each vigorous thrust.

Pressure began to build, concentrated at the centre of her, tightening and coiling within her. She opened her eyes and took in the sight of the ferocious feral fucking her, feverishly and fast as the rain poured over him, plastering his hair against his darkened face. His powerful muscles were taut from the exertion of stabbing into her, his back arching to pound harder and deeper and she screamed, her wet heat coating him, her body trembling and clutching him tightly as an incredible orgasm took ownership of her.

With a roar, Logan buried himself into her one last time before a powerful shudder ripped through his body, shoving his pelvis against hers as he let go, every tendon stretched to support the muscles that siphoned all their power into his final thrust. He dropped forward, his strength spent and landed hard on his elbows to prevent his weight from crushing her, the Wolverine in him howling with satisfaction as he poured himself thickly into his mate.

She lay shaking beneath him and when he looked into her eyes, his breath caught at what he saw in them. Gathering her up into his arms, Logan buried his face into her neck, devastated.

“I’m sorry, Rogue. I’m so sorry.”

Over the noise of the storm raging around them, she heard him. He called her Rogue. He knew.

Ah’m not his Marie.

She was barely aware of him pulling up his jeans and putting his shirt on her, effortlessly lifting her into his arms and holding her close as he made his way back to the mansion. She only saw the lightning, only heard the thunder as a deluge of pain drenched her heart, making her choke on bitter tears.

Logan held her tighter, hearing her weep softly into his shoulder.

Dawn was breaking over the horizon when Logan arrived back at the mansion, the wet road sticking to the tires of his motorcycle as he took the turn slowly to ride up the winding driveway. The air was saturated with the moisture left behind by the storm last night, the grass and leaves on the trees reflecting the first rays of the morning sun off their glistening surfaces. Pulling into the garage, he kicked the stand down and sat there for a few moments, gripping his handlebars, his face tight with self recrimination.

He refused to accept that last night was a mistake. Rogue reached out to him and matched his passion, had wanted him as much as he wanted her. She wanted him badly enough to be able to shut off her skin and that had to mean something. She could learn to love him again, she would love him again. What made them fall in love with each other was still there; he just needed to create new memories to replace the ones stolen from her and he could do that. Looked forward to it. He would show her every single day what she meant to him because she was everything.

Everything.


Ah don’t remember you. Ah don’t remember loving you.


Logan winced, pain lancing through him. Fuck, that had hurt. Still did. But he was convinced she felt something for him, something strong, something powerful. He smelled it on her last night and the intense aroma was like a balm to his shattered heart when he was forced to walk away from the bedroom door she closed on him. Riding all night gave him a chance to think, a chance to formulate a plan. They were going to have a long talk. They were going to go through his memories together and figure out the answers to all the questions she had about her past. He would lay it all out there, no more keeping secrets, no more hiding, to hell with what the professor wanted. She needed to move forward and he was going to help her in any way he could. If that meant leaving the mansion, then they were leaving today. He planned on showing her that the love they shared was the forever kind. That he was hers.

Logan’s ears twitched. The sound was faint at first but it grew louder and he immediately recognized the roar of a quickly approaching jet. Stepping outside of the garage, he saw the hovering aircraft land directly in front of the mansion; it’s red and gold metallic sleek exterior a sharp contrast to the antiquated stone ground beneath it. The hatch opened and he saw a familiar figure jump jauntily down the steps before striding purposefully towards the school entrance.

Logan scowled.

Breaking out into a light jog, he entered the mansion from the side door and saw the professor and Scott greeting the S.H.I.E.L.D. deputy director, their countenances expressing their disappointment when the sharply dressed man informed them they were still unsuccessful in locating Blindspot and Mystique.

Stopping to stand directly in front of him, Logan demanded, “What the hell are you doin’ here, Stark?”

“Why, hello Logan. Is the welcoming committee around here always up so early?” Tony pushed the sunglasses he was wearing to the top of his head and grinned, sticking out his hand.

Logan growled and ignored the gesture, folding his arms across his chest instead. “I learned a while ago tincan, that you showin’ up uninvited means trouble. Out with it.”

Unperturbed, Tony shrugged and his grin broadened. “Funny, that’s what we Avengers say about you.” He withdrew his hand and returned his attention to Charles. “Except this time, I’m expected. Is she ready?”

All three X-Men looked at the Avenger, confused. “Is who ready?” This came from Scott, frowning.

“Me.”

All four men looked up to see Rogue making her way down the stairs, dressed in jeans and a waist-length, thin black leather jacket, a suitcase in each hand and a duffle bag worn over her shoulder. The scent of peppermint and vanilla wafted down and Logan inhaled it deeply into his lungs, the freshness of it revealing the recentness of her shower. Her hair was worn in a loose ponytail, falling over her shoulder in wet tendrils and her face was free of any makeup, making her look younger than ever.

Tony clapped his hands sharply and the two soldiers that had been standing sentry by the front doors stepped forward to take her things. Logan snarled and blocked their way, his claws shooting out as he held out his arms on either side of him.

“Don’t even think about it, bubs.”

The sound of guns being drawn filled the foyer as both soldiers immediately pulled out their weapons, double laser target beams forming red dots dead centre against Logan’s forehead. Tony Stark stepped in front of the tense soldiers, pushing the nozzles of the guns down with his index fingers slowly.

“Hey, hey, no need to get huffy. It’s too early in the day for this anyway, I’m barely awake as it is.” He yawned dramatically and pulled down the dark sunglasses over his eyes again, looking towards Rogue who was now at the bottom of the stairs. “I take it they didn’t get your memo?”

Rogue walked past a stunned Logan and handed over her things to the two soldiers who looked relieved to be given a reason to return to the jet. “No,” she responded, annoyed. “I haven’t told them yet.” His flippant attitude was getting on her nerves. If these Avengers were all like him, she’d have to make alternate arrangements. Drawing her shoulders back, Rogue stepped towards Charles and Scott, her eyes cold.

“I am officially resigning from the X-Men.” They both opened their mouths to protest but she continued, her accent completely gone, her words clipped and clear. “The theft of my memories has made me irrelevant to your organization, the person you all believe me to be no longer exists. While I can appreciate your belief that the return of my memories will also return the woman you know as Anna, I can assure you, she is gone forever. I have decided to pursue the opportunity of joining the Avengers at the invitation of Mr. Stark.”

“Like fuck you are.”

Rogue turned to look at Logan, seething beside her. Her eyes poured over his stricken face, taking in his flashing eyes and clenched jaw, his entire body flexed and ready to fight. She held out her gloved hands to reach for his claws, placing her palms on their tips and forcing him to sheathe them back into his forearms when she pressed her hands forward. Sad, she laced her fingers with his and pulled him close to her, their arms straight by their sides as she leaned into him.

“You have to let me go.”

His heartbeat became erratic, his breathing sharp and shallow to prevent the ache that was growing inside him from stealing it away completely. Logan pressed his face into her damp hair where the smell of vanilla and peppermint was even stronger. Swallowing hard, he whispered into her ear, “Don’t do this. I can fix us. I can.”

Rogue pulled back to look into his eyes and told him, “I need to go.” His face blurred as hers filled with tears. “Please, Wolverine. Let me go.”

Logan held on briefly when she loosened her fingers but released her when she pulled her hands away, keeping his eyes on the floor, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. Rogue went to stand by Tony Stark and for once, the flamboyant billionaire playboy stayed silent, turning to escort her to the Avengers Quinjet waiting for them outside.

“Stay where you are, Rogue. I do not accept your resignation.”

Everyone looked at Professor Xavier, surprised. Scott’s mouth eyebrows knitted together in confusion when Charles’ voice rang through his mind, calling out to the rest of the X-Men telepathically for assistance. The X-Men leader felt an icy chill race up his spine. “What are you doing?”

Professor Xavier ignored him and kept his eyes on Rogue, informing her in a stern voice, “I cannot permit you to leave.”

Rogue’s eyes narrowed, taking a step towards him. “Permit me? All this time you had the answers I needed, knew the truth about my past and yet you chose to keep me ignorant. You let me think it was for my own good, but I don’t believe that’s true. Out of respect for everything you have done for me, I am keeping this civil, but I am leaving and there is nothing you can do to stop me. Your telepathic powers are useless on me.”

Charles looked at her sadly, but his face was resolute. “They are useless on you, yes.” Tony Stark was suddenly thrown against the wall and pinned there, his arms crossed over his chest and his head lifted high, unable to speak. “I am very sorry, Rogue. I am doing this for your protection.”

Logan moved to stand in front of Rogue, seeing bone claws slide out between her knuckles, her lips curled back to bare her teeth. She was letting the feral in her take over and he held her back, his back towards the professor. “Take it easy, darlin’. We’ll figure this out.”

Nightcrawler appeared by their side in a cloud of sulphur as Colossus, Beast and Storm bounded down the stairs. All were struck speechless at the sight of Tony Stark paralyzed against the wall and Rogue being blocked by Logan, her eyes fixated on the professor.

“Oh my goddess, what’s going on?”

Storm stepped towards them but Logan growled in warning, spinning around to face Charles, keeping Rogue behind him. The weather controlling mutant turned to Beast whose face reflected his growing alarm at the expression on his old friend’s face. “Charles, what is this? Is S.H.I.E.L.D. trying to take Rogue again?”

Professor Xavier’s eyes glinted dangerously, facing his team who were all unsure of what to do in reaction to the scene before them. “I cannot be more clear, X-Men. I want Rogue restrained. Now!”

Tony meanwhile was having difficulty breathing, his face red and mottled. “What are you doing, Charles?” Scott yelled, placing a hand on Charles’ shoulder to get his attention. “You’re attacking an Avenger!”

“I am willing to do much more than that if any Avenger tries to take Rogue from us, Scott.” Charles turned his plated eyes towards the confused and shocked group of mutants and became angry at their inaction. “Do as I say X-Men and take Rogue downstairs to the detention cells immediately!”

Logan crouched and released his claws again. “Anyone comes near her, I’ll gut’em.” Suddenly, his claws were pressed up against his neck, and the professor looked regretful.

“Don’t make this any harder, Logan. I assure you, I mean Rogue no harm. But she cannot leave here, under any circumstance.”

Rogue was startled to suddenly hear voices in her mind – both Kurt and Colossus refused to attack her and she realized that the professor heard their thoughts as well because they fell to the ground, completely immobile and under his control. Her eyes darted to Scott, Hank and Ororo and although they looked at her apologetically, Rogue could hear their thoughts go in the opposite direction. Despite being upset at Professor Xavier’s behavior, they intended to do as he instructed and apprehend her. The three X-Men moved towards her cautiously.

Furious, Rogue looked directly at Charles Xavier, the resentment she experienced throughout the night as she accessed more and more of the Wolverine’s memories intensifying. She had been going crazy over the past six weeks, had begged for information and had been patient, trusting this man. Yet he had continued to keep so much from her and now, he revealed his intent to keep her his prisoner.

Rogue was done waiting. It was time for her to be free.

Charles Xavier’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, his body seizing and violently shaking before he fell like a rag doll to the ground. Storm screamed before she ran to the professor’s side, taking him into her arms as Beast dropped down beside her to take the inert man’s pulse.

Free of the telepath’s control, Tony Stark immediately transformed into Iron Man, powering up and holding out his palm repulse beam in warning to Scott who placed his hand by his visor to stop him. “Stand down, Cyclops. I have no quarrel with you.”

The Avenger turned to Rogue and she stepped into his outstretched arm, wrapping her arms around his neck. She only had time to send Logan one last, forlorn look before Iron Man ignited the rockets under his feet and flew out the front entrance, straight up into the air.

They were gone.

Logan ran out to the front courtyard as they streaked across the sky, a rapidly disappearing mark against the clear blue sky. A school bus drove through the front gates of the estate just as the Quinjet lifted into the sky and the newly graduated class of the Willowbend Academy poured out of the yellow chartered vehicle, pointing and exclaiming at the sight of the powerful aircraft rising above them before blasting away with a sonic roar.

Logan wasn’t aware of the small hand that tugged at his arm and when he finally noticed, he found himself looking into a pair of large, apprehensive green eyes.

“What’s going on, Wolverine?”

At the sound of Laura’s voice, Logan released the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. He looked over his shoulder and saw Beast carrying an unconscious Professor Xavier to the med bay with Ororo following closely behind. Kurt and Colossus glared at Scott before following the X-Men leader outside to help corral the excited new students of the academy, their facial expressions schooled to look neutral though Logan knew they were angry and bewildered.

Logan’s eyes returned to his clone’s worried face. “I don’t know, kid. I don’t know.”


*****


“We should prepare ourselves for an attack from the X-Men.”

The assembled superheroes were standing around the large circular table in the middle of the war-room situated in the top floor of the Stark Tower, the New York City skyline visible through the impressive 360 degree wall of windows. Iron Man was grim, adding, “I don’t think I have ever seen Charles Xavier like that. He had full intention of using whatever power he had to ensure that Rogue remained with them.”

“But, why?” Ms Marvel was the first to speak, the others still too shocked to react. “Why would he go so far to keep Rogue with the X-Men?”

Iron Man hesitated before answering. “There are certain facets to Rogue’s mutation that S.H.I.E.L.D. has learned of that Xavier had wanted to keep secret. He must want her to stay with the X-Men to keep her under his control. We’ve been after Rogue for some time to join the Avengers and he always made it clear that he would never support it. It could just be a matter of keeping a strong player on his team.”

Everyone turned to look at Rogue, who was standing by the window, a despondent look on her face.

“It is your choice, Rogue. Whatever you decide, we support you.” Carol Danvers approached her, placing her hand comfortingly on the younger woman’s arm. “There’s no rush to make a decision, and you are welcome to stay here as long as you like. We won't make you do anything you don’t want to.”

Rogue took a deep breath, trying to release the anxiety she was feeling, but failing. She had spent the last hour with Ms. Marvel who had provided her with counsel and empathy, an irony not lost on either of them considering their history.

“I don’t belong there anymore,” Rogue told her honestly. “Whoever I was while I was an X-Man didn’t feel like me. At least here, I can be myself. I can be Rogue.” She turned to face everyone, taking the time to look at each of them; Lucas Cage, and his wife Jessica, Captain America, Iron Man, Spiderman, Thor, Hawkeye and Ms. Marvel.

“I don’t want to cause any trouble. If I had thought my leaving would cause all this, I would have never contacted Iron Man. The last thing I wanted was to start a fight between the Avengers and the X-Men. Maybe the best thing would be for me to leave.”

Everyone began to protest, Spiderman’s voice carrying over the others. “I have no problem with the most powerful telepath in the universe trying to scrape the brain out of our skulls to get you back. But I do have a problem with that bat-crazy Edwards Scissorhands look-a-like coming after us.” Spiderman looked at his teammates. “Are we sure we want to go down that road?”

Hawkeye laughed and folded his arms across his chest, looking at Thor who looked just as amused. “Just step aside and let the big boys deal with the Wolverine.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Captain America said disapprovingly. “Underestimating the Wolverine is tantamount to signing your own death warrant. We’ll deal with our fellow Avenger should the need arise.” He swung his gaze towards Rogue. “I don’t like the idea of you being left alone after what happened in Washington. The offer to join the Avengers still stands, regardless of Xavier’s opinion on the matter.”

The Avengers all nodded in agreement. They would protect her as one of their own.

“…so we won’t be insisting that Rogue return to us. If she wants to remain with the Avengers, that is her decision to make. The X-Men are not opposed to her joining your team.”

“Understood, Cyclops.” Captain America placed his hands on the war-room table, his face earnest as he looked into the holographic image of the red visored man in front of him. “Do you know why the professor wanted Rogue detained?”

Strain showed on the X-Men leader’s face. “No, we don’t. There was no indication that he had wanted her movements restricted before today. In fact, Rogue has left the school a couple of times this past week without any objection from him. We believe that whatever made him behave so erratically this morning is responsible for the coma he is in now. It’s the only explanation.”

“Will he be alright, Scott?”

Scott’s took a deep breath, the Avenger’s genuine concern motivating him to reply honestly. “I don’t know, Steve. Right now, there is no brain activity whatsoever. The tissue is healthy, and he’s able to breathe and eat but outside of that, he’s unresponsive.” He frowned, clearly upset.

“It’s like he’s been put on pause.”


*****


Rogue sat on the large king sized bed, elbows on her knees, head bent down. She stared unseeing at the Brazilian cherry wood floors that covered the huge bedroom assigned to her in the Avenger Mansion, her mind swirling from the events of the day.

How could she have been so wrong about Charles Xavier? She thought he genuinely cared for her and yet, he had been willing to make her his prisoner, even to the point of attacking his own X-Men. And how the hell had she been able to knock him out? As soon as the professor went down under her psychic punch, everyone’s thoughts immediately disappeared and now, she was too afraid to try to read minds again. She didn’t want to try. What if she inadvertently woke him up? Professor Xavier had terrified her with his power and Rogue didn’t think she would get the best of him again if he tried to get her under his control again.

Rogue ignored the pang of guilt she felt, knowing she was the one who put him in a comatose state. No one suspected she was responsible and she wasn't going to say a word. It was Professor Xavier’s fault, he should have never tried to stop her and until she figured out what was going on, he could stay that way. Leaving was the right thing to do. She couldn’t stay in Westchester any longer – she was drowning, she was choking on a life that wasn’t hers anymore. She was exhausted and after last night, the decision to leave had been easy to make. It was bad enough feeling pressure to behave like a woman she couldn’t identify with, but accepting a love that didn’t belong to her was too much. She just couldn’t do it.

Rogue’s head shot up, eyes sharpening to focus on the figure that slipped soundlessly into the room. She could make out the silhouette of the Wolverine near the door of the bedroom and his hurt and anger came at her in waves, suffusing her in their intensity. She didn’t move, forcing her breathing to remain even and calm although her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

“Why?”

She closed her eyelids slowly to keep the tears that sprung behind them from escaping. Rogue couldn’t trust her ability to speak.

“Why?” he repeated more forcefully when she didn’t answer him, his voice a broken rasp. She turned away, unable to face him and in a flash, Logan crossed the room and pulled her off the bed, the mask of his uniform doing little to hide his torment. Logan wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tightly, burying his face into the hollow of her neck to breathe in her scent. She smelled so sweet, so warm. So his.

“Why did you leave me?”

The unsteadiness of his breathing underlined the pain he was in and Rogue bit back a sob –wanting so desperately to surrender to the familiar safety of his strong embrace, the need to comfort him overwhelming her. Logan could feel her body tremble, could smell the sharp salt of her tears and despite the rigidity of her spine he knew she wanted him. It was there in how her hands shook, in how her heart skipped. He slid his hands up her arms and held her face in his hands, the soft coolness of her skin tempering the heat of his.

“I’m sorry.” Logan looked deep into her eyes, telling her gruffly, “I’m sorry for not telling you the truth about us, for holding back information about your past. Tell me what you want and I swear I’ll do it for you, darlin’. Just…” He stopped and swallowed hard. “Come back to me.”

Rogue found it hard to breathe. He was looking at her with so much love, his entire body thrummed with it, but it was a love she knew didn’t belong to her. When the Wolverine looked at her; when he kissed her and touched her, he saw his Marie. And she was Rogue. Rogue. The lump in her throat blocked the words that her heart demanded she say and she looked away, anguished.

“You can’t do that.” He gripped her shoulders with his hands. “What you’re feelin’, it’s all there in your scent. You can’t hide it. Not from me.” Rogue pulled back but he held on, easily holding her in place. “I’m done with this shit, Rogue.” Logan lifted her chin with a folded finger, forcing her to look into his eyes again. “Talk to me.”

Anxiety raced through her and she forced herself to breathe, struggling to find her voice. When she did, it was full of her misery. “I can’t take this anymore. It’s too hard.” She tried to look away but he held her chin in place, his mask making his hazel eyes even more bright. The tears she had been trying to hold back finally escaped her eyes and she weakened against him, defeated.

“I can’t do it, Wolverine. I can’t pretend.”

“Pretend?”

“I’m not who you think I am,” she told him quietly. “I’m not the woman you love.”

He gently wiped her tears away with his thumbs, his eyes darting between hers. “You are the woman I love. I’m in love with you, darlin’.”

She whimpered, the pain shooting through her making it hard to breathe again. “You’re in love with Marie. You’re in love with a woman I can’t remember being.”

“Everything that made me fall in love with you is still there, with or without your memories. You’re still my Marie.” His voice was rough with conviction.

She pulled his hands away and stepped back, his words completely breaking her heart. Rogue briefly closed her eyes before capturing his, her voice sounding like it was coming from far away, a strange calmness settling over her.

“No, I’m not. I’m Rogue. Your Marie is gone. She doesn’t exist anymore.”

Logan’s face reflected his confusion. “You’re not making any sense.”

Rogue could only look at him, wishing he could understand, but knowing he wouldn’t. Logan tried to not show his frustration, but failed. “You can’t expect me to throw away the past fifteen years like they never happened.”

She swallowed hard, wiping away the last of her tears with the back of her hands, breathing out slowly to work past the ache. “I don’t expect you to. But it’s what I need.”

Logan rubbed the back of his neck and stared at her in disbelief. “Why are you doin’ this? Why aren’t my memories of us enough for you?”

She held her hair away from her face, suddenly feeling very tired. “I feel like an imposter. Your memories of loving Marie, kissing her, touching her…” Rogue stopped, wincing from the images that formed unbidden in her mind and a few moments passed before she was able to continue. “It’s like watching you with another woman. I need you to belong to me, not to her. I need you to see me.”

His heart soared, taking her words as an admission that she cared for him and he took her back into his arms, his hands pressing into her back when she resisted. “But I do see you. I do belong to you. ” She turned her face away and Logan became angry, not understanding why she was so sad.

“Why are you makin’ this more complicated than it needs to be? Goddamn it, I love you!” His hold on her became punishing and fisted his hands into her hair, forcing her to look at him. “What you need, is to be with me.”

Logan crushed his mouth against hers, thrusting his tongue along her teeth, demanding she give access and biting her lips when she refused. Rogue kept her teeth clenched and his claws rang out, causing her to gasp in surprise. He took advantage, delving his tongue deep into her mouth to take it possessively and he moaned, the taste of her sweeter than ever. The animal in him demanded the submission of its mate, and it roared in anger when she didn’t respond and began to fight him.

The Wolverine slashed at her clothes, the silk slip she had been wearing falling in tatters to floor, her bra and underwear easily eviscerated. He threw her back onto the bed, forcefully placing himself between her resisting legs, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her. The sounds from their physical struggle hovered over them, the unbalanced fight lending itself to her frustrated cries and she struggled under him, pitching her hips upwards to throw him off her but only succeeding in burrowing him more intimately against her.

The Wolverine was stronger, larger, angrier. He unzipped the black leather pants of his uniform and pulled himself free and she could feel him hard and big against her inner thigh. He growled in warning when she tried to close her legs, biting into her neck in punishment and drawing blood. But when Rogue tensed under him, bracing for his invasion of her, he stilled.

The sound of their harsh breathing competed with the erratic beating of their hearts. Logan buried his face between her breasts, his entire body trembling with restraint and Rogue was stunned to smell his tears, her breath catching when she felt them drop like hot beads of wax onto her skin. Crying, she bent her head to kiss the top of his, running her hands over top his back when he released her wrists to dig his arms under her to hold her close. After a few minutes of holding each other tightly, Rogue lifted his head and kissed the last of his tears away from his eyelashes, hating herself for causing him so much pain.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Wolverine.”

Logan let her go and sat at the edge of the bed, dropping his head into his hands. Confused at his abrupt movement, Rogue sat behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her body against his broad back and resting her cheek on his shoulder. The leather of his uniform stuck to her, the smell of it made stronger from the heat he was giving off and she sighed, enjoying the sensation of him being in her arms.

It was short lived when Logan pulled away and stood up. “It’s Logan,” she heard him say softly, not turning around to look at her. “My name is Logan.”

Rogue’s mouth went dry, knowing he was waiting – hoping – she would say his name. The silence that grew became oppressive. His shoulders straightened and his powerful body rippled from the flexing of its enormous muscles as though they were being infused with resolve. Logan adjusted his pants and when he put his face in profile to look at her, she knew he was angry again.

“I love you, Rogue. If you need time to accept it, then I’ll give it to you but don’t try to run away from me again.” His voice was low and flinted with warning. “There is nowhere you can go that I won’t find you.”

He left and Rogue wrapped the sheets around her naked body, inhaling the lingering scent of him. She stared at the bedroom door until it blurred, soundless sobs deafening her as she whispered a name the felt foreign and strange on her tongue.

“Logan.”

Rogue stared at the sliver of sunlight that managed to escape from behind the heavy drapes of her bedroom. It slashed across the bed she had yet to sleep in, the swirling specks of dust in its beam mesmerizing her. She was so tired. For the second night in a row, Rogue released the Wolverine within her mind and had stayed awake, going through his memories.


What kind of name is Rogue?

That damn eyebrow. She could see why Marie found it annoying.


What kind of name is Wolverine?

Marie’s response had surprised him. He hadn’t expected attitude from a kid he could still leave on the side of the road. Rogue smiled, hugging the pillow closer to her. Marie wasn’t so different from her after all.


Logan.

He wanted her to see him as a man, not as the raging animal she had seen fighting in a cage. Rogue frowned. No wonder he didn’t want her calling him Wolverine. Looking at the image of Marie eating beef jerky, she was hit with how protective he already felt towards her. God, had she ever been so young? So innocent?


Marie.

Her sass was still there, but he had seen her vulnerability. Rogue’s eyes filled with tears, feeling his love wrap around her.


Unlike Remy, the Wolverine in her mind stayed quiet as she accessed his memories, only allowing his emotions to break through to help her understand what she was seeing. His fear, his insecurities, his jealousy and self-hate, Rogue felt them all and his silence spoke volumes. He wanted her to take ownership of his memories, wanted her to attach her own emotions to them to make them hers and as she shifted through them, Rogue realized it was working.

A determination took hold and she got out of bed, snapping the sheet away from her. It was time she took back control of her life.


*****


Rogue was standing by the window of Colonel Fury’s office, looking over top the smaller buildings of the Manhattan skyline below her. Her eyes rested on the Statue of Liberty in the distance and she felt a cold chill run down her spine, Wolverine’s memory of how she almost died flashing across her mind. Lost in the memory, she heard her screams, begging for someone to help her and his berserker rage washed over her, making her hands shake from the effort to keep her claws sheathed. The Wolverine’s roar in her mind obliterated the image, his anguish harsh and she reached out to him in comfort.

Logan.

Even thinking the name felt strange. A big part of Rogue rebelled, reminding her that it was Marie’s name for him, not hers, but she shut it away angrily. He told her last night his name was Logan and that’s who she would think of him as.

Logan.

She could feel him calm down and warmth spread through her, hearing him growl approvingly at her use of the name.

“What did you want to see me about, Rogue?”

Rogue turned away from the window startled, having completely forgotten where she was. She blinked several times before she was able to focus on the impatient man sitting behind the desk in front of her, tamping down her own annoyance at the glare he was sending her. People relations are not this man’s forte, she realized.

Rogue pulled off her gloves and rotated her wrists, stretching out and wiggling the fingers of her bared hands deliberately. “My control. It’s come back.”

The S.H.I.E.L.D. director got up from his chair and hesitated for a moment, making her laugh softly when she caught a whiff of his fear. Scowling, he bravely reached for her hands and sure enough, there was no pull. Releasing them, Nick Fury pushed down his excitement and forced himself to remain calm.

“How much control do you have?”

Rogue reached for a sheet of paper on his desk and tore off a tiny piece from its corner, keeping her eyes on his. Placing it between her hands, a purple glow seeped through her fingers and she dropped the charged bit into a trash can before a sound very much like a fire cracker burst across the large room. Nick Fury jumped back as smoke wafted up from the now mutilated metal container between them and within moments, soldiers poured into the office, their weapons aimed at the amused woman standing in the center of the room.

Rogue looked at them and then to him, her eyes shining bright red. She arched an eyebrow and her mouth curved into a small smile.

“Does that answer your question, Colonel?”


*****


Tony Stark ran tests on Rogue all day.

Nick Fury’s eyes were locked onto the woman on the other side of the glass wall that ran along S.H.I.E.L.D.’s extensive training room. He noted with amazement how easily Rogue completed various complicated maneuvers in the obstacle course Iron Man had set up for her, and smirked when she cheekily took the pencil Tony had tucked above his ear before returning it surreptitiously into his lab coat pocket without the Avenger noticing. Rogue’s ability to access Gambit’s mutation was absolute, his super agility complimenting the already extraordinary physical abilities she retained from the Wolverine. The scarlet irises flashing against her blackened eyes were disconcerting as she effortlessly accomplished each task, clearly enjoying and enthusiastically showcasing her new ability.

It was so unlike the Rogue he knew. The colonel remembered how upset she had been when both he and Tony had become aware of her ability to permanently access previously absorbed mutations. At the time, Rogue absolutely refused to demonstrate her power, absolutely refused to discuss it.

Now, she absolutely reveled in it.

“What does this mean, Colonel? Is Rogue able to hang on to Gambit’s mutation permanently?”

Nick watched as Rogue blew apart three combat robots simultaneously with accurate throws of energy charged cards, sending Tony for cover on purpose with a barely disguised smile on her face. “It would appear so, Carol.”

“Was Rogue able to access other mutations before?” Logan was in the far corner, the simmering anger coming from him contrasting sharply with the calmness heard in his voice.

There was a slight pause before the colonel answered. “Yes.” Lying to the Wolverine never ended well. It was time for full disclosure.

“Was that why you and Stark had her workin’ for you?” His voice became even more calm, making the hairs on the back of the S.H.I.E.L.D. director's neck stand on end.

Nick shook his head. “No. We had no idea of Rogue’s evolved mutation when she began working for S.H.I.E.L.D. We learned of it a few years ago and only by accident. We had received reports of a mutant exhibiting powers similar to Storm’s who offset a typhoon that landed down on a community of houseboats in Thailand. Based on the description given by eyewitness, we were able to determine it was, in fact, Rogue. She had been in the area, scoping out a suspected new HYDRA base for S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Suddenly, the attention of all four occupants of the room turned to the explosions on the other side of the glass and they watched Tony step out of a cloud of smoke disoriented, but otherwise unscathed. Rogue was openly smiling now.

Seeing that his deputy director was fine, the colonel added, “Rogue was the one who chose to step out of the perimeters of that mission to assist those people, S.H.I.E.L.D. in no way authorized her to do so. Since then, she repeatedly tapped into her powers time and time again, choosing to go ‘rogue’, so to speak.” No one seemed to appreciate his attempt at brevity and Fury sighed in annoyance before continuing.

“Both Professor Xavier and Rogue insisted that we keep her enhanced mutation secret. Rogue refused to divulge the full extent of her abilities but we have documentation showing that in addition to demonstrating Ms. Marvel’s and the Wolverine’s powers, she can manipulate metal, transform water into ice, teleport, and control fire. We are sure she has more mutations at her disposal, but we are unaware of what those are. Despite offering her a spot with the Avengers in an official capacity, she refused, choosing to focus on the Mississippi school she founded with the X-Men. The professor in particular was against her joining our team which could explain some of his behavior yesterday, but I never understood why. Rogue joining the Avengers wouldn’t have affected her status as an X-Man, just like it doesn’t affect yours, Wolverine. If anything, it would have given her greater protection since our group is sanctioned by the United States government.”

Captain America finally broke his silence and directed his comment to the Colonel, but it was for the benefit of everyone around him. “An Omega level mutant with this kind of power would be a highly dangerous weapon in the wrong hands, so I can see how they felt secrecy was needed. However Colonel, I am disappointed that both you and Stark failed to respect Professor Xavier’s and Rogue’s wishes.”

“We kept their secret, Captain.” Nick Fury's frame straightened and his shoulders stiffened in anger.

“Officially, yes,” the famous hero replied to the affronted S.H.I.E.L.D. director. “But according to the files I accessed this morning, you sent Rogue on increasingly dangerous missions once you became aware of what she was capable of. These missions forced her to demonstrate her evolved power - you took advantage of her, knowing she would continually take on these missions in return for the information S.H.I.E.L.D. had on potential mutant manifestations in young children. You, in essence, extorted from her.”

Nick Fury glared at the Avenger leader, but remained silent. Everything he said was true and there was no point denying it, especially with Logan nearby. The Wolverine was upset enough as it was.

“As of right now, Rogue only has access to Gambit’s mutation outside of the Wolverine’s,” he told the group, leaving Captain America’s words unchallenged. “Without her memories, she isn’t able to access any of the mutations she retained before. However, we need to assume that any mutation she does comes in contact from now on will be at her disposal.” Everyone became silent, the potential of Rogue’s power stunning them.

“Did Blindspot and Mystique know? Is that why they took her?”

Carol’s question hung in the air as they all watched Rogue leap effortlessly towards the ceiling before landing on top of Iron Man. By this time, Tony had transformed into his Avenger alter-ego and was actively taking part of the obstacle course for his own protection. Rogue’s laughter could be heard as she curled her body around him and slipped between his legs to reach up and yank down his helmet, leaving a charged card behind his neck. When Rogue jumped out of his range before the explosive went off, his yelps could be heard on their end and Ms. Marvel put a hand over her mouth to stifle her own laughter, catching Captain America’s amused look as Tony tore off his now mutilated head gear.

Logan growled. These tests were a waste of time. Despite Iron Man’s discomfort, it was obvious he enjoyed being close to Rogue, unnecessarily holding her tighter than needed when he managed to catch her in his arms. Logan pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on and slammed a fist onto the button of the intercom, snarling, “Cut it out, Stark.”

Both of them were surprised at the sound of his voice. Rogue’s shocked face turned to the speakers, unaware that they were being watched, but Iron Man held onto her for a few moments longer before saluting mockingly in Logan’s general direction. Releasing her, he bent over Rogue’s hand and kissed it gallantly, sending a cocky grin over her shoulder at the mirror that separated them from the observing group.

Logan’s growl deepened.

“Maybe. I’m not sure,” Nick Fury answered Ms. Marvel’s question in an attempt to distract Logan. “Rogue was abducted with the intention of having information extracted from her; that much we can determine based on Xavier’s readings of the two women before Spiral teleported them all away. Personally, I think Mystique had hoped to keep Rogue with her and as for Blindspot, it would stand to reason that her intense feelings for Rogue would have made her want the same thing.”

That got Logan’s attention. His eyes narrowed. “Explain intense.”

The colonel frowned. “Didn’t the professor tell you?” Seeing the blank look on Logan’s face, he explained, “Blindspot is in love with Rogue. According to Xavier, she always was, ever since both of them had been wards of Mystique and Destiny.”

“If this Blindspot cared so much for Rogue then why did she steal all her memories away? How could someone in love do such a thing?” Ms. Marvel looked to Logan. They both knew it was a special kind of hell to lose your past.

Nick shrugged, genuinely confused as well. “Blindpot returned all of Rogue’s memories the instant she touched her at the Senate hearing so it defies logic as to why she would remove them again. Could be that Mystique wanted Rogue to forget her time with the X-Men to get her to stay with the Brotherhood, but that’s pure speculation at this point. What I am certain of, is that they would not have discovered Rogue’s evolved mutation by removing her memories. The safeguards Professor Xavier placed in Rogue’s mind held throughout her ordeal.”

“Safeguards?” Logan’s voice cut across the room sharply. “Just how many of these ‘safeguards’ did Chuck put in her?”

Nick’s frown deepened, realizing that Charles Xavier had hid more from his X-Men than he had originally thought. “In addition to the one I just told you Logan, he had another one installed to prevent knowledge of her involvement with S.H.I.E.L.D. As for any others, I have no idea.”

Logan’s face darkened. It was time to call in some favors.


*****


“You can’t be serious!”

Logan lit the cigar he had clenched in between his teeth, wrapping his lips around it and quickly inhaling to maintain its burn. He eyed the incredulous man in front of him through the resulting smoke between them before replying, “Dead serious, Slim.”

Scott folded his arms across his chest, his jaw set in a hard line. “She’s our enemy. Inviting her here is the equivalent of placing a bomb in Cerebro. I won’t allow it.”

“You have no choice.” Taking the smoke deep into his lungs, Logan pulled the cigar away to look at it appreciatively before expelling it slowly. He had expected Scott’s reaction. “Angel’s been tryin’ to get in contact with Psylocke ever since Chuck fell into his coma and so far, he’s had no luck. We need the professor up and at’em and the second most powerful telepath in the world is our best bet to do that. Sometimes, you just gotta take a chance.”

“No.” The X-Men leader shook his head. “I won’t allow Sebastian Shaw’s mistress to have access to Charles. It’s a perfect opportunity for the Hellfire Club to attack us. We’ll wait for Psylocke.”

Logan got in Scott’s face, his patience worn thin. “Listen here, Cyke. The longer Chuck stays in a coma, the more likely his enemies are going to find out and come running. Emma owes the professor. He saved her life recently, no thanks to Shaw, and she is more than willin’ to take this on without gettin’ the Hellfire Club involved.”

Unaffected by the Logan’s aggressiveness, Scott shot back, “You already told her that Charles is in a coma. If anyone comes here looking for a fight, it’s on your head.”

Logan swore in frustration. “She already knew, you dickhead. The most powerful telepath gets knocked out for no apparent reason and you think the loss of his presence wouldn’t be felt by other telepaths? Word’s already gettin’ around that Chuck’s been laid low. We gotta do something before someone gets the bright idea to take him out completely. The sooner the better.”

The two men glared at each other until finally the X-Men leader looked away, agitated. He knew Logan was right. “Emma agreed to keep quiet?”

Bringing the cigar back to his mouth, Logan nodded, hiding his surprise at Scott’s use of the telepath’s first name. Scott walked to the end of the terrace, bracing his arms against its stone half-wall. He could hear the students playing in the pool, their innocent shrieks of laughter adding to the already heavy weight he felt on his shoulders. The chance that the school could come under attack was very real.

“Fine.” He took a deep breath and turned to face Logan. “Tell her she can come.”

“I already did.”

Logan grunted at the look of outrage that Cyclops sent him. “Give me some credit for knowin’ ya well enough that you’d make the right decision, One-Eye.” Scott watched Logan stride away and a bemused expression came over his face.

It had been a long time since he had last seen Emma. After they were rescued from Stryker’s island, she disappeared, intent on getting revenge for her sister Kayla’s death instead of joining him at Xavier’s school. Her choosing to ultimately side with the Hellfire Club had deeply disappointed him, especially since they developed a close friendship during the year they were kept prisoner. Throughout the years, they managed to avoid each other but now, their paths were being forced to cross and Scott was unprepared for how conflicted he felt.

Scott made his way back in to the mansion, reminding himself that the Emma Frost he had known was gone. The sweet young girl he protected while they were held against their will on Stryker’s island had been replaced with a cold-hearted, manipulative and evil woman. Emma was the White Queen now. And regardless if she was able to help Charles or not, she would always be his enemy.

“Someone is here to see you, Ms. Rogue.”

Rogue looked up from where she was sitting on the floor of the living room with Luke Cage and Jessica Jones’ daughter. She was rebuilding the wood block tower that the giggling toddler had been repeatedly knocking over for the past hour - much to Rogue’s played up devastation - and was ready for a new distraction. Tony Stark’s butler stepped away from the front door and revealed a young girl, barely a teenager with long black hair and huge green eyes, dressed in jeans and black t-shirt. Her visitor’s apprehension was palpable and when her gaze fixed on Rogue, it was with a startling intensity.

“Yes?” Rogue smiled at her encouragingly and stood up, picking up the baby before approaching her visitor. She was a pretty little thing.

“Anna?”

The name made Rogue stop, a mere millisecond, but enough for the young girl to notice.

“Sorry. I meant to say Rogue.” Her voice was soft, its huskiness reflecting its disuse. The girl’s grip on the straps of her backpack tightened. She was extremely agitated.

Rogue approached her and gave her a bigger smile, making sure to maintain a distance between them to alleviate some of the child’s discomfort. “That’s okay. It is my name.” Rogue lifted her head; the girl’s scent seemed familiar. “Are you one of my former students?”

“You could say that.” And then, “You really don’t remember me?” The girl watched for any sign of recognition, her face hopeful.

Rogue shook her head apologetically, shifting the wiggling toddler onto her other hip. “Outside of your scent, not a thing. How about you bring me up to speed over some soda-pop?”

Rogue handed Danielle to her nanny who came to retrieve her charge. At the baby’s fussing, Rogue took her hand and blew strawberries into its dewy palm, the toddler’s delighted screams making both women laugh. Rogue looked over to the young girl to share the moment but was surprised to see that adolescent remained completely unaffected, her face expressionless. Rogue shared a look with Doreen who left to put Danielle to bed. Obviously not all kids liked babies.

Rogue indicated with her hand for the girl to follow her, noting that the kid’s eyes darted everywhere, assessing all the exits and entrances of the mansion as she was led into the kitchen. The strange girl continued to tug at the straps of her backpack, her body a bundle of tightly wound nerves and Rogue realized by the way she sniffed the air that she was trying to determine who else was in the mansion.

“No one’s here, except for who you just saw,” Rogue reassured her and the information calmed her somewhat. “It’s the weekend and even the Avengers get to have some fun.” Rogue pulled out a stool at the breakfast bar for the girl to sit in and opened the refrigerator door, offering over her shoulder, “There’s Coke, Sprite and Dr. Pepper. Which would you like?”

“Water, please. And thank you.”

Rogue grabbed a bottle and passed it over, amused at how proper the girl sounded. “So, how about you telling me your name?”

“X-23. But you knew me as Laura.” She sat at the edge of her seat, looking around her, gauging, calculating. Still on edge.

“Okay, Laura. How about you tell me why you smell almost exactly like the Wolverine?” Laura’s eyes shot to hers and Rogue held them. “Are you his daughter?”

“No. Not exactly.”

“Now that sounds downright mysterious.” Rogue sat down on the seat beside her and decided to not push for an explanation. “How can I help you, Laura?”

“Why are you here, Rogue? Instead of Westchester?” Laura twisted off the cap of the bottle and began to drink from it, pausing once to catch her breath before emptying it of water. Rogue got up to get her another one but Laura declined, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she waited for an answer.

Rogue regarded her for a moment before replying, “The more important question is - why are you here?”

“You must come back.”

The girl’s declaration surprised her. Rogue straightened in her chair and patiently asked, “Now, why must I do that?
”
“The Wolverine needs you.”

Rogue’s smile became frozen on her face and she gave the child a hard look. “How did you get here, Laura? A young girl like you shouldn’t be in New York City, alone. Does the Wolverine even know you’re here?” The way Laura’s heart sped up told Rogue he didn’t and she stood up to grab the cordless phone off the wall.

“You must come back,” Laura repeated calmly. “You belong with the Wolverine. You are his mate.”

Rogue’s heart twisted painfully at the simply stated words, making her sound harsher than she intended when she responded tersely, “It’s going to get dark soon and I’m sure everyone is worried about you.” Rogue began to punch in the phone number of the academy.

Laura stared at her. “I waited all summer to see you again. You said before you left that you would stay with me until I was comfortable in the new school. You promised to take care of me. But you’re not there.”

Rogue’s face softened, realizing that her relationship with Laura obviously went beyond teacher-student. Rogue left the call incomplete and sat back down, holding the phone between her hands.

“I’m sorry, Laura. There are a lot of things I don’t remember and making that promise to you is one of them. Maybe you can come here every week and we can catch up with each other? I’m sure I can arrange something. How’s that sound?”

“I want you to come back with me. Don’t you know how much you’re hurting him?” Her large eyes suddenly filled with tears. “How could you do this to us?”

“Laura, you don’t understand…”

“I still need you! I trusted you! And now you’re gone!” Laura stood up, wiping away the tears that managed to escape. “How could you let this happen? I wish I never listened to him!” She began to back away from Rogue, her face twisted with anger. “I wish I never met you!” She ran out of the kitchen, crying.

“Stop, Laura! Please, don’t go!”

Jarvis glanced up from where he was adjusting a painting on the wall of the main foyer, jumping back in surprise when Laura ran past him. She slammed the front door behind her, setting the portrait off center again and he gaped at Rogue who followed close behind.

“Jarvis, do you know who that girl is?”

Iron Man’s trusted servant looked very concerned. “I do believe that is Miss Laura. She appeared a couple of months ago after locating Mr. Logan.”

Rogue accessed Logan’s memories and the images that came into her mind made her eyes widen in understanding. She pressed the kitchen phone into the elderly gentleman’s hands. “I’m going after her, Jarvis. Please contact the X-Men and let them know she was here.”

Doreen ran down the stairs, worry etched on her face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rogue. You shouldn’t leave here by yourself.”

“I can’t just let her go, Doreen. She’s been on the streets before and knows how to lose herself in New York City.” Rogue grabbed her leather jacket and shrugged it on.

“Just hang on. I’ll get in contact with the Avengers.”

Rogue swung open the door and shook her head. “She won’t be responsive to whole bunch of Avengers swooping out of nowhere to get her, especially because Captain America wanted her jailed when they first met. I’ll find her. Just tell everyone what’s happened.”

Doreen and Jarvis’ protests followed her down the front steps as she ran after Laura, catching the young feral’s scent easily before tearing across Fifth Avenue to follow her into Central Park. When the Logan in her mind began to protest as well, she slammed him back into his box, intent on tracking the girl who had already had good head start on her.


*****


Damn, but the kid was quick.

Even at a dead run, Laura’s scent stayed ahead of her, zigzagging across the lawns of the huge municipal park in an attempt lose Rogue. Rogue yelled out her name repeatedly, thanking people who pointed out the direction the young girl was running in, and growing more frustrated as time went on with no Laura in sight. Growling, Rogue looked up at the sky and saw that the sun was beginning to set.

Shit.

Unbelievably, the distance between them grew. Rogue continued the chase, refusing to accept that a child could get the best of her but after a while, Rogue admitted defeat and realized her night was going to be spent following Laura, rather than catching her. She stopped on the other side of Central Park and spun around, struggling to hang on to the scent. There were people milling about everywhere, enjoying the summer evening and Laura’s scent intermingled with the crowd’s, making Rogue swear again. Pulling out the cell phone from her jacket pocket, she braced herself before hitting the talk button to finally answer its incessant ringing.

“Where are you?”

Wincing, Rogue pulled the phone away from her ear. She took a deep breath and made sure her voice was even although the barking sound of Logan’s voice made her heart beat faster than the hour long sprint she just endured. “I’m outside the Museum of Natural....”

“Don’t fucking move.” He ended the call abruptly.

Rogue stared at the phone for a moment before scowling and pushing through the pedestrians that lined the Central Parkway West sidewalk. Breaking out into a steady run, Rogue knew where Laura was headed based on the direction of her scent. Picking up her pace, she punched some numbers into her cell and Ms. Marvel answered right away.

“Okay Rogue, what do you need? I’m sky bound and just over Harlem.”

“It looks like Laura is headed over to Hell’s Kitchen, her old neighborhood. Maybe you can contact Daredevil to keep an eye out for her?”

“Will do, kiddo. Jessica and Luke have some contacts there as well. Don’t worry, we’ll get her back, just keep your eyes and ears open and keep safe.”

“Thanks Carol.” Rogue ended the call and continued to run, mentally smacking herself for not taking her wallet to hitch a ride on a cab. Then again, it was Saturday night in New York City. The odds of snagging one in this part of the city would be next to impossible.

After about ten blocks, Rogue reached 42nd Street where Laura’s scent suddenly became stationary. Rogue stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, causing the throngs of people around her to complain as they were forced to move around her. Ignoring them, she lifted her nose into the air and dread flushed through her. The stench of freshly drawn blood surrounded her and she turned sharply to the left where a wall of plywood ringed around a construction site.

Leaping over the barrier, Rogue raced towards the back of the half built skyscraper, her eyes adjusting quickly to the lack of light. Rogue immediately spotted a small figure sprawled on the gravel strewn ground and she ran towards it, heart in her throat.

It was Laura. Her hands were pressed to her side and she was trying to stem the blood flow that was pouring out from between her fingers. Rogue dropped to the ground beside her and gathered the young girl into her arms, placing her hand against the large gaping cut that sliced around Laura’s waist.

“It’s okay, sweetie. You’ll be okay.” Rogue pulled off her jacket and t-shirt, ripping the cotton in half to bind it tightly around the wound and tying the leather around it. The dressing did little to staunch the copious amount of blood that continued to flow out of the girl, the thick red liquid spilling over Rogue’s legs and staining the ground beneath them. Horrified, Rogue realized that the young feral’s healing factor was failing to kick in.

Laura’s body began to seize and looking into her terrified eyes, Rogue yelled, “Don’t you dare, Laura! You hang on, do you hear me?”

The young girl nodded, blood beginning to stream from her nostrils and mouth. Laura blinked rapidly and was trying to tell Rogue something but the effort made the blood in her throat gurgle, taking away her ability to breathe.

Rogue shushed her, her tears falling onto the young girl’s cheeks. She could feel the small body in her arms lose its heat, Laura’s wheezing and dropping blood pressure telling Rogue she was losing her. Rogue heard the roar of a jet nearby and she looked around her desperately. Grabbing an empty soda can, she charged it and whipped it high into the air and within moments of its explosion the Blackbird was above them, its powerful tracking light shining down and blinding them.

“I've got you, Liebkin,” a voice said. Strong blue arms wrapped around her and an instant later, Rogue found herself in the interior of the X-Men’s plane.

Beast took Laura from her and placed the ashen faced youngster onto a stationary bed, ripping open bandages while Storm raced to hook her up to an IV. Logan grabbed Rogue, the sight of so much blood making his hands rough as they ran over her body looking for injuries and she pushed him away, screaming, “It’s Laura who’s hurt! She’s lost too much blood and she’s not healing!”

Stunned, Logan’s eyes snapped to Hank’s. The doctor’s face was grim.

“She’s dying, Logan.”

Rogue cried out in anguish. Logan rushed over to Laura and ripped off the sleeve of his uniform, yelling, “Get my blood into her! Now!”

Beast made an end-to-end anastomosis between the artery located at Logan’s wrist and the vein on the inside of Laura’s elbow, allowing a direct transfusion between the two ferals. Colossus led Rogue to a chair and Nightcrawler placed a blanket over top his foster-sister, the pale colored material darkening from the congealed blood that coated her shaking body.

Rogue was barely aware of Scott’s shouted command for Nightcrawler to strap her in, all her senses focused on the young girl fighting for her life as the powerful jet’s thrusters kicked in to speed back to Westchester.

Logan slipped quietly into the room, not wanting to disturb the sleeping woman curled in the chair at the foot of the bed. His eyes took in the myriad of medical machinery that was helping keep Laura alive, his brows knitting together in frustration. Three days had passed and her healing factor still hadn’t kicked in. He slowly caressed a cool cheek with the back of his finger, noting how pale Laura was. It was heart sickening, seeing the normally sullen expression on the girl’s face replaced by none at all, her extreme youth painfully evident. Logan gritted his teeth, choking back his fury and need for retribution - the burning hatred in his gut growing for the person who wanted a child dead.

Hank’s tests came back showing Laura’s wound was caused on a molecular level, further confirming someone attacked her with the Muramasa Blade. Logan gripped the steel bar that ran alongside the bed, his knuckles whitening as he thought back to when he had given a piece of his soul to create the powerful katana – a weapon forged from his hunger for revenge at the murder of Itsu and their unborn child. Knowing the cursed sword was responsible for the potential death of the only family he had - and Laura was family, regardless of how she came into the world - dug deeper into him than any blade could.

Logan picked up her small hand and held it in his, careful of the stitches that held closed the cuts her claws had made through the soft flesh between her knuckles. Laura had so much going against her. Hank told him daily blood transfusions of Logan’s plasma could only go so far, in order for Laura to survive the massive trauma to her body she would need her negated healing factor to return and as it was, she was barely staying alive. Logan blinked back the moisture that swam in his eyes. Laura had to live. It was his fault the Muramasa Blade was brought into existence and now, yet again, his misspent past had come back to hurt people he loved.

Logan rubbed his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his free hand, the depletion of his own blood and no sleep combining to make his vision blur. Opening them, he focused on Rogue. She wouldn’t allow anyone but her care for the young girl’s hygienic needs; wouldn’t allow anyone but her change the bandages and tubes that drained and replenished Laura’s small body. When Hank became overwhelmed by the excessive damage to Laura’s internal organs, Rogue touched him to absorb the necessary skills and knowledge to assist in repairing the amount of lacerations caused by the deep slash across the young girl’s abdomen. She had worked alongside Hank for hours that first night- suturing, cauterizing, suctioning – relentlessly keeping Laura alive with an unwavering determination that had yet to wane.

Logan bent down in front of her, reminded of when he last saw Rogue sleeping in this position – same tear-streaked face, same look of sadness scarring her beautiful face – and his heart twisted much in the same way it had then. He dragged her peppermint and vanilla scent deep into his lungs, remembering that pivotal night when his world finally righted itself from its bent axis, when he had been given an undeserved second chance at happiness.

God, how he loved her. Almost too much.

Rogue shifted, uncomfortable, the large pale green cotton pants and shirt she had taken from the medical cupboard loose around her body. Gently, Logan lifted her into his arms and sat down, holding her on his lap, her head resting against his shoulder. A soft sigh escaped her as she settled against the hard planes of his body, taking in a ragged breath and releasing it with a contented purr. Logan smiled at the sound, feeling it vibrate gently against his chest, and the peace that came over him chased away his fragmented thoughts.

Nuzzling her hair, he whispered, “I love you,” before the beeping and whirring sounds of the life support machines gave way to the unified beating of their hearts, carrying him over into slumber.

Inhaling his scent, Rogue fell into an even deeper sleep.


*****


“How is he?”

Hank looked up from where he sitting at his desk to see Rogue standing by the doorway. The wrinkled condition of the medical scrubs Rogue was wearing told him she slept in Laura’s room again last night and he frowned, wishing Rogue would sleep upstairs in the bedroom they still considered hers, even if she did not.

“Charles is doing very well, all things considered." Hank stood up and pulled off his reading glasses, tossing them onto his desk where he had been reviewing his patient’s chart. “He is exhibiting none of the typical physical ailments associated with persistent unconsciousness, which is fortunate. It had been a concern of mine initially, but it appears his body is retaining its top physical condition despite its immobility.”

Rogue nodded briskly. She kept her eyes fixed on the man lying on the bed, his face serene in its dormancy. Watching his chest rise and lower in an even, steady rhythm, Rogue was unprepared for the powerful emotions that competed inside her at the sight of his torpidity. She felt confusion, fear, anger…and guilt. Lots and lots of guilt.

“It’s not your fault, Rogue.” Hank approached her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

Her eyes shot up to his, startled. Rogue had forgotten he was feral and would be able to pick up on her feelings. Her voice was cold when she replied, “I don’t.”

Hank regarded her for a few moments, puzzled at her tone. “I can understand how upsetting this must be for you. It is for all of us. I wish we knew why he wanted to keep you from leaving.” He looked to Charles, clearly worried for his old friend.

“And yet, not knowing didn’t stop you from trying to do just that.”

The doctor returned his eyes to her, surprised to be met with an accusing glare. “I was confident Charles’ misconception of you would be corrected,” he began to explain, but found himself suddenly pulling back defensively when she stepped forward to interrupt him. Rogue’s eyes were shards of ice.

“I am sure your dear Professor Xavier would be pleased to know what a loyal pet you are to him.”

Hank stared at her as she spun on her heel and left the room, shocked at the look of contempt Rogue threw at him before she rounded the corner to return to the critical care area of the sick bay.


*****


Ororo found Rogue sitting on the steps leading down from the back terrace, pressing a cold beer against her neck in an attempt to alleviate the oppressive heat in the air. Rogue looked at the weather-wielding mutant through the corner of her eye but other than that, did nothing to acknowledge her presence. Sighing, Ororo sat down on the step next to her.

“You are upset with me.”

It wasn’t a question. Rogue brought the bottle to her lips and tipped its contents into her mouth, keeping her narrowed eyes on the lone cloud in the distance. It was clear she wanted to be left alone.

“I’ve learned you are upset with Henry as well.”

Rogue maintained her silence, leaning back onto one elbow and stretching her legs out in front of her, keeping her fingers loose around the glass neck of her beer.

“You are being very unfair, Rogue.”

She whipped her head sharply to face Ororo, the muscles of her body tensing with anger. Ororo’s eyes were hard.

“You had no right speaking to Henry the way you did this morning.”

Rogue snorted in laughter and shook her head in disbelief, returning the beer to her mouth and refocusing on the quickly approaching cloud in the sky. The conversation, at least to her, was over.

Seeing that Rogue returned to ignoring her, Ororo suggested drily, “If you have a problem with any of us, you should at least be respectful enough to discuss it instead of resorting to childish barbs.”

Rogue took her time finishing the beer in her hand, enjoying the taste despite the company. She knew Logan kept a decent stash of Molson at the academy and it only took a quick peek into his memories to determine where it was. It would serve him right if she emptied the refrigerator in the boathouse in retaliation for him leaving this morning for parts unknown. Realizing that Ororo wasn’t going leave, Rogue rolled the now empty bottle between her hands and drawled, “Looks like it’s you who has a problem with me.”

“Yes. I do.”

“That’s too bad.”

Rogue stood up but Ororo blocked her, making Rogue’s eyebrow rise at the aggressive move. “It doesn’t take much to get you to run away, does it, Rogue? You’ve got more Wolverine in you than I thought.”

Rogue laughed, genuinely amused at Ororo’s attempt to make her angry. “What is it, Storm? Wanna beat me up because I hurt your little boy-toy’s feelings?” Blue eyes flashed white and Rogue laughed again, folding her arms across her chest. “My opinion of him extends to you as well if it makes it easier for you to take the first shot.”

Ororo kept a lid on her temper and replied, “It doesn’t.” She took a cleansing breath, reminding herself that she wanted to fix things between them, not make them worse. “I don’t understand why you are so angry with us. We are your friends.”

“My friends? Let’s see. A week ago, you, Cyclops and Beast tried to take me prisoner. That's not very friendly.”

Ororo frowned. “I admit, I was shocked to see you and the professor at odds, but I’m sure there must be an explanation as to why he wanted your departure prevented.”

“Do you even hear yourself? He didn’t want my departure prevented. He wanted me held against my will.”

“He must have had a good reason at the time.”

Rogue caught the uncertainty that flashed through the other woman’s eyes but it did nothing to lessen her anger. She moved to brush past her but Ororo grabbed her arm, preventing her. “You have to listen to me.”

Rogue looked pointedly at the hand gripping her forearm, her eyes hidden under their lids. “Let. Go.”

But Ororo held on, despite feeling a bit lightheaded. “We are X-Men, Rogue. Our loyalties lie with Charles Xavier.”

“Someone who attacks his own team, who turns colleagues against each other, doesn’t deserve that kind of loyalty.”

Ororo stared at her. “We didn’t turn on each other. We were simply doing what Charles wanted.”

“Yes. What he wanted.” Rogue’s eyes flickered. “Is it always about what Xavier wants?”

“I don’t like what you are implying.”

“I don’t like being attacked by mindless lapdogs.”

“You’re way off, Rogue. Charles is a wonderful, caring man. He does not control us.”

Rogue leaned into her menacingly. “You keep telling yourself that the next time you find yourself obeying the almighty Professor Xavier without question.”

Dark clouds gathered above them and Ororo cast her eyes briefly upwards, bewildered. “You, out of all of us, should know what kind of man Charles Xavier is. Before the theft of your memories, there was nothing you wouldn’t do if he asked it of you.”

Rogue growled and kept her eyes averted. "Yeah, I heard." Lightning flashed above, its resulting thunder shaking the ground beneath them. “Things change. Blind faith just doesn’t cut it for me, anymore.”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Scott was standing at the bottom of the steps, the blonde woman standing between him and Logan appearing highly entertained at the scene before her. Rogue tore her arm from Ororo’s grasp, viciously snapping, “Ask your X-Man, Summers.”

Rogue ignored Scott’s shout for her to stop when she marched back into the mansion after slamming her empty beer bottle onto the nearest patio table. Logan sprinted up the steps to follow her as the wind continued to pick up in strength, swirling around the three mutants left behind.

“Were you really going to attack her, Storm?”

The cultured tone of Emma Frost’s amused voice carried over to where Ororo stood, platinum hair blowing about her stunned face. Locking onto Scott, her clear blue eyes were bright with confusion, telling X-Men leader that the sudden weather change wasn’t her doing.

Hearing their thoughts, Emma Frost’s face tightened in concentration, only to flinch from the psionic slap dealt her when she tried to enter Rogue’s mind.


*****


“Hey darlin’, hold up.”

Rogue glared at the metal door at the bottom of the stairwell as she waited for Logan to catch up with her. When he did, she kept her eyes on the door’s metal handle, struggling to keep in control. Logan tilted his head in concern at the anger that was rolling off her.

“What happened out there?”

Rogue latched her eyes onto him. “Who is that woman?”

Logan blinked, taken aback by Rogue’s hostility. “She’s Emma Frost. Kayla’s sister.”

“Does she make it a habit entering people’s minds without permission?”

“Maybe,” Logan answered her honestly. “Did she enter yours?”

“She tried.” Her green eyes were on fire. “Where were you this morning?”

Logan blinked again, this time taken aback by her abrupt change of subject. “I picked Emma up from the airport. Her plane was delayed so I was held up for a bit.” Hazel eyes glinted devilishly. “Why? Did you miss me?”

Rogue huffed out a sound of disgust and threw open the door. Logan was close on her heels as she made her way down the corridor, saying, “I brought some of your things from the Avenger’s mansion.”

She stopped and turned to face him. “You went through my things?”

“Yep. Chose only the stuff I wanna see you in. Lots of lace. Lots of silk.”

Rogue squeezed the bridge of her nose, the headache that came on during her confrontation with Ororo worsening. “That’s not funny.”

His concern returned in an instant, seeing pain skitter across her face. Rogue pressed her fingers against her temples and winced when the pain didn’t let up. Logan led her to an empty room and made her sit on top of its bed, replacing her fingers with his stronger ones and massaging her head in hard circular motions. She closed her eyes and sighed gratefully, the sharp pains that wracked her brain moments ago subsiding under his ministrations.

“Thanks.” Rogue reached up with her hands to pull his away but Logan cupped her face in them instead, looking intently into her eyes.

“You okay?”

“Just a little headache. Being outside in the sun after being down here these past few days didn’t agree with me, I guess.” Rogue gave him a small smile. “You were kidding about my clothes, right?”

His hands left her face and slid down her arms until they held hers. Curling his fingers with around them, he answered, “Carol had a bag ready for me to pick up. Your unmentionables were left unmolested, don’t worry.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Thanks for getting my things, Logan. I appreciate it.” Rogue felt his fingers tighten, a strange light igniting his eyes. Confused, she asked, “Something wrong?”

A grin had broken out over his face. “My name. You said it.” He was looking at her like she just lassoed the sun and handed it to him. Her breath hitched when his gaze dropped to her lips and she licked them in anticipation; the butterflies already loose in her stomach turning manic. Suddenly, sounds of an alarm exploded around them and they both pulled back sharply, hearing them come from the direction of Laura’s room.

Logan ran ahead of her, almost slamming into Hank who was already with the young girl, pulling out the breathing tube from her windpipe. Laura was gagging, and Logan grabbed her hands as Hank carefully removed another tube that was fished down to the young girl’s stomach, placed there to prevent choking. Rogue pulled Laura up into a sitting position to make the bile and saliva fall away from the girl’s mouth and wiped her face tenderly before returning Laura into a half elevated position on the bed. Hank turned off the ventilator and the blaring of its alarm stopped as he placed an oxygen mask over the mouth and nose of the still sleeping child.

“Laura’s just regained the ability to breathe on her own,” he told them happily. “I’m keeping her in a medically induced coma to assist in reducing the swelling in her brain but I think, unbelievably, that this young lady has just cheated death.” Hank clapped a hand on Logan’s shoulder, adding, “You saved her life, my friend.”

Logan grabbed Hank by the shoulders. “No Hank. We all did.”

Rogue dissolved into tears. Logan reached for her and Hank left to afford them privacy as Logan caressed her hair and held her tight in his arms, whispering words of shared relief and joy into her ear.