Ah don’t even have to turn around, Ah know she’s there. Watching us. Waiting. Still long-limbed and perfect. Not a hair outta place, not a speck of makeup outta line. Still untouchable, unforgettable, irreplaceable Jean Grey. Red curls around her shoulders now, perfect figure outlined in an outfit that’s just the right side of revealing to get his attention without looking like she’s trying. A smile on her face as she nods to me, feigns interest in mah presence.

Ah know it’s a crock, but Ah still nod back. It’s mannerly.

Turns out you can take the girl outta the South, but you can’t take the South outta the girl.

Sigh then, tension in mah shoulders tightening as whatever of Logan’s attention Ah had winds away from me. Get to mah feet and make mah excuses to leave Storm’s office, the realisation that our briefing about Fury’s newest project staying at the mansion will have to wait setting mah teeth on edge. It’s been like this ever since she came back six months ago; Me’n him came back from a mission together in Genosha to find her in Storm’s office and as soon as he laid eyes on her Ah knew whatever Ah had of Logan wasn’t mine anymore. Maybe it had never been to begin with. They’ve been circling each other ever since, feinting. Flirting. Inching ever closer to the moment when they throw down and Logan finally gets what he’s always wanted from her-

Cos now there ain’t no Scott to get in the way, no Professor to be disapproving.

No scrawny, brown-eyed brat needs saving to distract Logan’s attention yet again.

Him and her can finally be together and the past can be left behind them, where it should be-

And nobody needs to hear that their happy ending is killing mah heart like a slow-bleeding wound to mah chest. Nobody. So Ah keep mah shit quiet about it.

A dull, wired, drawn-out beat.

Ah tell mahself it doesn’t matter as Ah quietly close the door on them. Tell mahself that you can’t control who you love, and you can’t fall in love outta gratitude neither- despite what Ah might wish. And gratitude is all there’s ever been between us, at least on his side, Ah know that now. Ah know a lot about this situation, Ah ain’t ever worn blinders over it. Nobody asked me to take care of Logan in the aftermath of Alcatraz, to make sure that he didn’t hurt himself or anyone else during those endless, slow-slipping vigils before dawn. Nobody asked me to become imbedded in his life afterwards, to make us the closest thing to family Ah’ll ever have. Ah put mahself up for that job, and Ah know it. Just like Ah know that if there was anything Logan could do to stop the pain Ah’m in he would. But he can’t choose who he loves anymore’n Ah can-

And the pain of feeling like a bitch for not wanting him to be happy without me is eating me alive, so Ah try to ignore it.

Can’t say Ah’ve made any real progress with that, but Christ knows, Ah’ve tried.

Ah pad through the mansion then, wanting the solace of being alone with this. Hear the front doorbell and since Ah’m nearest Ah’m the one goes to get it, no calming solitude for me. Ah check the cameras and see Nick Fury’s face glaring right into the monitor as if daring me to refuse him entrance. A couple of S.H.I.E.L.D agents with him and some guy in a hoodie standing in silhouette; Ah can tell just by how still he is that the Hoodie Guy can’t be Tony Stark. For a second Ah delay, checking the thermal imagers to make sure that our guests are who they appear to be- Mystique got into the school three months before we installed these bad boys and we ain’t having a repeat on mah watch- But everything checks out so Ah let ’em in. Ignoring the filthy look Fury shoots me since he ain’t supposed to be here until tomorrow and it’s a school night anyways. Throwing the S.H.I.E.L.D agents mah best Southern Belle smile because Ah recognise two of ’em from that epically kick-ass training session S.H.I.E.L.D organised against the X-Men last month. (You know, the big one we won.) Fury’n his merry little bunch crowd into the mansion’s hall, Hoodie Guy trailing behind, shoulders hunched, looking for all the world like a startled kitten-

He sees me standing there glaring at him though and immediately stands up straight. Looks at me.

Ah can’t see much of his face yet but his eyes are an incredibly pale shade of blue.

“Rogue,” Fury starts then, inclining his head to me. “I see you were expecting us.” And he gestures to the file Ah’m holding in mah hand, the one with Property of the United States Government written on it in big, shiny red letters.

Ah (valiantly) fight the urge to stick mah tongue out.

Can’t promise that Ah won, but Ah want it duly noted that Ah tried.

“No,” Ah say, “Ah was just awake. Since y’all were supposed to be arriving tomorrow, yeah?” Ah gesture to the mansion. “This ain’t a halfway house, y’know, Nicky. There’s kids here trying to sleep.”

Fury cocks an eyebrow at me. Bastard actually looks amused though the S.H.I.E.L.D agents look horrified. Apparently Ah ain’t supposed to talk back to the meta-human division’s answer to Shaft. “Captain Rogers wanted to get here right away,” he says, “He felt he couldn’t sleep in the S.H.I.E.L.D HQ knowing he’d be moving here tomorrow morning-”

Ah shoot ole One Eye mah most cynical look. “He think there’s a monster under his bed?” Ah drawl sarcastically.

“No,” Hoodie Guy says. “I think there’s a monster under yours.”

And he pulls the hood down, showing me his face as he steps into he light. Holds his hand out to me to shake, and because Ah’m wearing gloves Ah accept. Even smile a little cuz it’s not his fault Fury’s a dick. He’s cute, strong jaw, good bone structure. Firm handshake too, and Ah’ve enough of Logan left in mah head to appreciate a thing like that. Looks about 6’2”, so tall Ah have to stare up at him. Built beefy like Colossus but streamlined like a runner or maybe a swimmer, the kinda musculature that inexorably brings Cyclopes to mind, Lord rest his soul. Ah watch as he steps further into the hallway, his posture visibly relaxing; He doesn’t seem to be cold at all though his team’s shivering, breath frosting in the air. All of which Ah find real interesting in a Things-Ah-Really-Need-To-Know-More-About-Before-Ah-Face-This-Guy-In-The-Danger-Room kind of a way-

Another, longer beat, wherein Ah notice he’s smiling at me.

Don’t wanna be inhospitable, good Southern girl that Ah am, so Ah find mahself smiling back.

Try to remind mahself what the file said about his abilities then, since Ah barely had time to skim it. Seems he’s a mutate like Pete Parker and not home-grown super, but as Ah stare up into those pretty pale eyes Ah find mahself getting distracted. The way he’s staring at me setting something low and quick burning inside of me, the fact that for once Ah’m having this reaction to someone who can’t smell it on me more off-putting than Ah would imagine. The fact that Ah’m having it at all more surprising than Ah’d like to admit to after all mah years chasing after Wolverine. We hold each other’s gaze for just a moment longer, mah hand still in his, breaths frosting together. An honest-to-goodness blush starting on the guy’s cheeks when it becomes obvious neither one of us is letting go, the weight of his fingers heavy and welcome, warming and… comforting, in mine. Fury lets out a low chuckle and Hoodie Guy blinks, finally pulling away from the handshake-

“Captain Steven Rogers, ma’ame,” he says stiffly.

“Ah’m Rogue,” Ah say. “Least that’s what everyone calls me.”

He straightens up some at the name, those pale blue eyes finally sliding away from mine. Ah feel disappointed; Ah don’t wanna let mahself imagine why.

But he’s talking. “I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour,” he’s saying, “but I didn’t want to spend any more time away from my new training facility-”

Fury snorts. “Which is code for “I spend another minute with Tony Stark and one of us is going to end up murdered.”” Nick’s grin is wicked. “But then, you’re familiar with the Iron Man Effect.”

Ah nod, remembering the time Stark annoyed Storm so bad the serene Goddess of Westchester threatened to destroy his house in Malibu with lightning. The fact that we’d been in a situation and needed his help was the only reason he hadn’t ended up fried.

“Ah know what Tony’s like,” Ah tell him. “Gandhi woulda strangled him.”

Fury shrugs. “You said that, not me.”

In the dictionary under “epically unimpressed,” there’s a picture of me wearing mah current expression. “Everyone who’s ever worked with the guy says it,” Ah point out. “Including Pete Parker, and Petey’s about the most laid back guy Ah know.” Rogers smiles at that and something flutters a little, low in mah belly. Ah sternly tell it to stop. “So is that why you’re here really?” Ah drawl instead, trying for unimpressed. “Did you do something to poor little Tony? Cos Ah gotta tell ya, if you’re looking to get rid of his body, you probably came to the right place-”

Rogers snorts then grins, looking like he’s doing it against his better judgement. Man, he’s got a nice smile. “Glad to hear it,” he says. “If I ever do give into temptation and kill Tony, I’ll remember you said that.” And he holds out his hand to one of the S.H.I.E.L.D operatives, taking an army duffel that looks even more dismally, pathetically under-packed than the one Ah had on the road all those years ago. Fury seems to take the hint because he nods to him, giving him a firm handshake, even goes for the ole butch, hand-on-the-shoulder/back-pat before stepping away and making for the door. Dripping S.H.I.E.L.D agents like Dorothy dripped munchkins in the Wizard of Oz. Not even doing me the courtesy of saying goodbye. Ah feel ever so slightly like a kindergarten teacher who’s just had a toddler handed over to her and for a moment Ah’m tempted to tell Fury he’ll have to wait, that we don’t have accommodation assigned for Rogers- Not like me’n Logan got round to discussing that tonight anyway-

But before Ah can Rogers smiles that same winning smile and steps further into the Mansion, shucking the duffle as he heads towards the couch. The look on his face telling me plainly that he might even sleep in the lobby if he has to, and that gives me pause. Because as little as Ah might like Nick Fury, there’s no need to take it out on Rogers: Ah know what it’s like to be trailing through life looking for a bed with only a duffle o’ clothes to your name. So, with a martyred sigh- Ah’m an X-Man, not a saint- Ah take out mah android and pull up the schematics for the Mansion. Check whether there’s any rooms left in the teacher’s wing since it’s probably unwise to have a stranger hanging around the kids without them knowing who he is. Especially in a house where said kids have learned to use powers first, ask questions later. As it turns out there’s a room available down the hall from me and Logan, the one Kurt normally stays in. The elf’s on an art study vacation in Florence with a couple of the older kids and Ah doubt he’d mind having to share.

“C’mon,” Ah say, nodding mah head in the direction we’re taking. “Ah have somewhere to put you tonight in anyways, but you’ll have to make up your own bed.”

“No problem, ma’ame,” he says. Ah roll mah eyes again.

“Only person ever got called ma’ame in mah family was mah momma,” Ah tell him. “You call me Rogue, or you don’t call me nothing at all.”

He smiles again, gentler this time. Once again Ah think that smile’s awful nice. “Okay then… Rogue,” he says. He makes it sound almost like an endearment. “Thanks for this, by the way. For letting me stay here.” He falls into easy, brisk pace beside me as we walk towards the teachers’ wing. “I was beginning to think I’d go insane if I didn’t get out of the Baxter Building,” he’s telling me. “And that mausoleum Nick trains in on Fifth Avenue is worse. Feels like you’re living in a museum…”

Ah cock an eyebrow at him. “What makes you think Xavier’s will be any different?”

His expression is earnest, happy. It’s not the kinda thing Ah’m used to seeing, not since Remy went away. “Because Xavier’s is a school,” he says. “There’s kids here- kids with superpowers. No way it’ll be the same. And I’ll be able to spend at least some portion of the day doing stuff that isn’t about the Avengers Initiative. Help out, you know?” Mah surprise must have shown on mah because he rushes on, and suddenly he looks way younger than any of Nicky’s other band o’ geeks- Though something tells me he’s really, really not. “Whatever I can help with, I will,” he’s telling me. “I want to earn my keep; I’m not the sort of man who expects charity.” Ah’m tempted to point out that his being here isn’t so much charity as a quid pro quo for S.H.I.E.L.D’s looking the other way during certain X-Men operations but Ah don’t do. His enthusiasm is far too rare a thing to see, and Ah don’t wanna come off sounding like a bitch. So instead Ah lead him to his room, explaining that he’ll have to ask Storm about that stuff. Telling him that she’ll be back from DC tomorrow, and Ah’m sure she’ll see what she can do. That we’re short-handed, since we’ve lost so many in the last few years and regular teachers often won’t work with mutants, an observation which Ah can tell really pisses him off.

“This is America,” he mutters. “Stuff like that shouldn’t matter. They’re children, for heaven’s sake.”

Ah’m about to point out that Americans ain’t a separate species o’ humanity and everyone has reacted that way to mutants but Ah don’t. Can’t make mahself do. Man’s a true believer and that is also far too rare a thing to see. So Ah let him talk me all the way to his room, smiling and laughing despite mahself through most of it. Telling him stories and pointing out the security features of the floor, giving him the security alarm’s access code in case he wants to open a window and let some air into his room. It’s been locked up tighter’n a beer keg since Kurt went away, and it probably stinks of oil paint and thinners besides. Ah settle him in and as Ah pass Logan’s door Ah hear female laughter behind it. Hear the clink of wine glasses, the murmur of music. There’s feet, light female feet, moving across the floor towards Logan’s bed and Ah don’t need the Wolverine in mah head to tell me that pretty soon the place is gonna smell like sex. Sex and pleasure and Logan and Jean.

Ah’m proud of the fact that Ah get into mah own room before the tears start to fall.

And Ah’m so fucking grateful Ah got Rogers’ pretty smile to picture when Ah close mah eyes, cos Ah really don’t wanna picture where mah thoughts truly lie.

He lights up when she walks in a room.

I don’t think she even notices it, but everyone else sure does. Even that pretty redheaded piece he’s going out with, and she doesn’t strike me as the type of woman to worry about something like that if there’s nothing really going on. But every time Rogue walks into a room Logan straightens up, tenses, lets his eyes go to her- It’s pure, unmistakeable, animal regard. Were this the field something would be said to them, I’m sure of it: I don’t know how anyone could run a squad with all this background noise and hope to get anything done. But when I try to bring it up with their CO Ororo gives me the brush-off-

“Logan and Rogue’s relationship is theirs, Captain Rogers,” she says softly, knowing the use of my rank reminds me I’m an outsider. “If you have any worries, I suggest you take them to the pair in question.”

Which is essentially her way of saying butt out and don’t ask me to get in the middle of this.

Doesn’t often happen, but there’s times when I miss the sheer structure of the US Army.

The only thing that keeps me from just locking the two in a broom closet and telling them to have it out is Rogue. The way she stares at me when she thinks he’s not looking, the way she seems to like me more than just about anyone else- Including the hairy Canadian. Which is clearly starting to grate on his nerves. I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s a good-looking dame. In fact, she’s probably one of the best looking dames I’ve ever seen. And she’s smart, tough, tender, all the best things you can say about a woman. You should see her with the younger kids, the ones with the really dangerous and uncontrollable mutations: She’s fearless- fierce- like a momma bear. Peggy was like that. Smart. Tough, but compassionate. Knew enough about the school of hard knocks to be careful, wasn’t so afraid of going back to it that she wouldn’t try something new. But Peggy had never been through any of the crap Rogue’s seen. Peggy was never left at the side of the road by the people who should have cared about her the most. Everyone here in Xavier’s has a sad story, every kid’s been abused and abandoned in some cruel, messed-up way. But what happened to Rogue? Makes me sick to my stomach. Because what kind of, of monster chains a little girl up and tries to kill her because he hasn’t the nerve to die for his beliefs? What kind of man does that?

I remember the war, and if this Eric Lensherr does too then he should know how many good people died for the courage of their convictions.

He doesn’t get to use what happened to him in Poland as a get out of jail free card when he wants to play terrorist with the life of a child.

And it’s because I know Logan’s the one who saved her, nearly killing himself in the process, that I keep my mouth shut. Because as much as his possessiveness annoys me, I know there must be something underneath all that gruffness that really cares about Rogue. Like I said, I don’t think he realises it yet: When he’s around her all he does is flirt with Jean. But when she’s not around all he seems to do is talk about Rogue. How she did in her tests, how well she fights against the Danger Room sims. What she did to save his butt in Genosha, what she thinks of the Cardinals’ chances in this year’s league. He’s smitten, I can tell. The whole Mansion can. But he never says anything to anyone about it. He never tries to get Rogue on her own. He’s living with Doctor Grey now for heaven’s sake- the pair of them are so lovey-dovey it makes a guy go into sugar-shock just watching them- and I’m not sure how Jean puts up his other behaviour. I mean, she really must be crazy about the guy. But I see Grey smiling at me sometimes, with that self-possession that’s almost a superpower in its own right, and when she does that I can’t help but wonder how much she knows, and what she thinks I have to do with it-

But if she thinks I’ll seduce Rogue to clear the way for her, it’s not going to happen. It’s just not who I am.

“You okay Steve?” I hear Rogue pipe up then. She’s flopped down on the couch beside me, Jubilee at her side. The firecracker is grinning at me, and I think she must have guessed where my thoughts were because she gives me a saucy wink.

“Sure he’s okay Roguey,” she says. “He’s probably mentally preparing himself to face the Wolvster today in the Danger Room today. It’s in, like-” she makes a show of checking her watch- “fifteen minutes, and yet here he is, watching TV.” She shrugs. “That’s one Helluva brassy pair you got on you there, Cap.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes and just glare at her now. The kids found a couple of the old movies I did as Captain America on You-Tube, and I’ve been hearing about them ever since. As ever though, Jubes is immune to my attempts at a glower.

“Not so, spark-plug,” I tell her instead. She hates that name. “That match isn’t until tomorrow-”

“Nuh-uh,” Jubes says. “It’s today. Re-scheduled. There was, like, a memo. The other Avengers are coming in to fight us mañana.” Rogue pats my knee comfortingly when I start at the news, and my skin obligingly heats up where she touches. I tell myself not to grin just at the skin-to-skin contact but I don’t think my face is cooperating.

Jubes’ smile widens.

“Well,” I say, trying to regain my mental balance as I go to stand, “If it’s today, it’s today.” Time and the super-soldier serum wait for no man. “We’d better get down there, ’Ro hates it when we’re late-”

Jubes is practically bouncing in her seat now. “What?” she demands. “She didn’t tell you?” She makes a show of playfully punching Rogue and the girl turns bright red before punching her back. That blow isn’t so much about play. “They’re talking about making Miss Thing here the new team leader,” Jubes says, undiscouraged. “Betsy’s heading back to the UK for some family shit and Roguey here’s in line to take over. Today’s the trials- and you’re on her team. Wolvie’s leading the opposition.” She smiles with mock sorrow at her friend. “I’ve been assigned to him, chica. No offence, but we’re gonna kick your ass.”

Rogue’s grin is almost feral. “You mean you’re gonna try.”

A spark of paff flies from Jubes’ fingers. “Bring it, redneck.”

Rogue pops her own paff, the result of a friendly tussle for the remote control the other day. “You’re on, firecracker.”

Something moves through Rogue’s eyes then, the same something I’ve seen in all the women here. It’s a similar light to the one that I used to see in Peggy, tough and ready for a fight. But whereas Peg would fight because she had to, the women in Xavier’s fight because they enjoy it. Because they’re good at it. Because it’s what they were born to do. I used to find it disconcerting as all get out, but on Rogue I suppose I kind of…like it. Or maybe appreciate it is a better term. I guess I just kind of think it’s swell, on her at least-

An image of Nick Fury’s grinning face pops into my head and I firmly push it away.

Fifteen minutes later though and I’m down in the Danger Room, suiting up; I can feel the weight of Logan’s glare on my back from across the room. Rogue’s team consists of me, Bobby, Pyotr, and Wolfsbane: She’s clearly been given a team meant to test her, see how well she can lead. Because me, she likes, so sending me into danger will be an issue. Bobby and her had a nasty break-up a couple of years back and it’s possible he’s still a sore spot in her heart, which will throw her off balance. Pyotr’s girl, Kitty, is on the other team so Rogue has to be aware that Colossus might be pulling his punches- And Rahne was her aviation instructor when she was getting her pilot’s licence. The Scottish woman always insisted on scrupulous deference in class, so ordering her around won’t be easy for Rogue- But then it’s not easy for anyone, when the woman in question turns into a giant wolf.

All in all though, Rogue looks like she’s not overly worried by her challenges. She wears authority easily, which surprises me: Around Wolverine she’s normally so deferent and quiet. We huddle in a corner as she goes over the mission: There’s a state secret, there’s a military compound. We’re to get in and out with as little loss of life as possible, because there’s also civilian personnel on the base. She divvies up assignments and it becomes clear that any supposed problems she should have had with her team are just that: Supposed. She sends me slap bang into the middle of danger with a dry request that I not screw up and get them blown to kingdom come. She tells Pyotr to take out Kitty, presumably on the grounds that if he’s put off by that assignment Shadowcat will be too. The Danger Room sim’ is taking place in a desolate, snowy area so she assigns Bobby the job of freezing one of the airlocks until it becomes fragile and she can use Jubes’ power to crack it. That way even if there’s a surveillance perimeter the door looking icy won’t set alarm bells ringing. Rahne’s to get in the back, stay away from the civilians, then get everyone to the jet. That she doesn’t feel comfortable being ordered around by her former pupil is obvious; That Wolfsbane makes a good effort at not showing it is likewise pretty clear. We fan out, each of us with our assignments: Rogue’s asked me to wear my Cap uniform, since I’m supposed to be a massive diversion anyway (and I quote) “Nothing says diversion like a guy with a white star on his forehead and a white, red and blue shield.” So at least I’m comfortable.

I also happen to have a massive target painted on my back, but like the lady says, that’s nothing new.

The mission proper starts then, each of us going for our assignments; The Danger Room safety protocols have been disengaged and none of us want to be seriously hurt. Of course with the exception of Logan I have the least chance of being killed, but I don’t want to put that to the test- So I make sure I get inside the base as quickly as possible and keep to the shadows while I’m there. Pyotr trailing behind me, everything about his body language showing me he’s uncomfortable and tense. I count Mississippis in my head (still easier than trying to use that complicated, piece-of-nonsense watch Nick gave me) until I know that Bobby will have broken the back door. Then at my nod Pyotr heads off to find Kitty (she’s guarding the file room) while I listen for the largest contingent of personnel in the base and head straight for them. They’re in what looks like a war room; I sneak in as near as I can get to them, taking note of the fact that everything in this sim’ is big, metallic and built to survive pummelling by a tank. So not exactly conducive to a quick getaway, but the kind of hardware I’m familiar with. Logan and Jubes are standing in a corner, muttering to themselves because nothing is showing up on the internal camera system; I don’t know Wolverine all that well, but I get the impression he’s proud of how well our girl’s team is doing, especially with him leading the opposition. I fall back into the shadows, making sure to stand as far away from the air vents as possible; I’m covered in dust, mud and axel grease- meant to mask my scent apparently- and the last thing I need is Logan getting wind of me at the last second. I cock my head, listening carefully, and then I hear Marie’s voice, very softly, give my signal to attack.

She whistles the opening bars of Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition- a song I was amazed she even knew- And then, as planned, I take a deep breath and pull my shield in front of me and prepare to play chicken with an entire base of military personnel.

I know the precise moment Logan hears Rogue’s signal because I see him cock his head, face frowning. See him swing around as he figures out what’s going on, the claws coming out with their familiar snikt while I high-tail it into the room. For a split second the sims and Wolverine’s team stare at me, taking in my costume, trying to assess whether I’m alone. Mutations powering up, their eyes going to the exits. All of them clearly assessing the best way to corral me and take me down. And then the adamantium gleams in the light as Logan thunders towards me, snarling at Jubes to go find Kitty. Ordering the rest of them to cover the base’s exits, leaving Rogue’s plan of a distraction in tatters as the Wolverine rounds on me. He slashes angrily at me, hissing under his breath; I dodge away, picking up the shield and smashing his face with it, and am rewarded with a painful-sounding Ga-Dunk! As vibranium impacts against adamantium and bone. He actually staggers back a little, dazed and surprised by the fact that the shield made a dent in that metallic head of his; I wonder whether he even read the report Fury sent over on me, or whether he just didn’t believe it until now-

Doesn’t matter right now though. With his attention distracted I go on the offensive, bouncing the shield across the room to smash into the back of his head even as I throw a sharp upper-cut to his jaw. I trained as a boxer when I first enlisted so the blow has some power behind it. Not that that makes it more effective: My fist might as well the made of feathers for all it slows him down. And the impact hurts my hand like Hell. It might sound cocky but it’s a long time since that’s really happened to me: I feel pain, it’s true, but not as easily as everyone else does. Of course, I normally don’t punch guys with metallic skeletons either. Logan’s fist moves so fast I barely even see it, and suddenly my jaw hurts and the room’s spinning as my head snaps backwards, the balance thrown with the weight of the blow. I manage to swing my torso upwards at the last minute, barrelling into Logan’s middle and forcing him back with a mix of weight and momentum. He clearly wasn’t expecting it because there’s a slight look of surprise on his face as we sail floor-wards, the impact of his body beneath mine knocking the wind out of us both.

Doesn’t do much for my chances however; quick as lightning he flips us so he has me pinned. Hands going around my throat, something that’s way more about feral rage than it is about battle glowing in his eyes now. That beast inside him, the one everyone talks about, clawing its way to the surface now it’s been given an excuse to play. He gets a hard grip, his fingers like a vice around my throat; I dig my own fingers into the bones of his wrists, sharp and precise, enough to break the grip of a normal man but not enough to have the slightest effect on him. He’s running on adrenaline and battle-rage now. I’ve seen it before, in Europe, the things that the fight-or-flight reflex will let a man do, the things he’s capable of when survival is all he can see. But there’s more to this, more than just getting the job done. He’s enjoying it, enjoying hurting me. Enjoying showing a rival, maybe, that he’s physically the better man. He digs his knee into me solar plexus; When I give a cough in pain at it he gives a low, wicked-sounding laugh. The lights are flashing as the sim’ base goes into lockdown, the fact that in a facility like this we might well be locked in for a century if the doors close not bothering him at all. Not when he’s fighting his rival and has an iron-clad excuse to kick his butt. With the last of my strength I manage to dig my feet into the ground and force myself upwards. That breaks his hold on my unexpectedly and suddenly I can breath. He’s heavier than me so it’s difficult, but my height gives me an advantage so long as I’m careful and I use it-

Turns out this Brooklyn boy’s fought bullies before, and there’s more than one trick he knows how to pull.

So I distribute my weight as I roll him, giving him no chance to seize control- Again. I’ve surprised him but this time I don’t hesitate: I drag myself to my feet and pick him up- it’s the only thing I can think to do- before physically throwing him towards one of the consuls, hoping it’ll slow him down long enough for me to get away. The impact’s messy and painful- I threw him harder than I meant to- but it barely even slows him down any and this time he’s coming at me with the blades, his grin more scary than the devil himself’s, every inch of his body vibrating with the desire to part my head from my shoulders. Right. The Hell. Now. His body language shifts as he comes towards me, becoming more animalistic. He’s grown silent and watchful and predatory, his eyes practically glowing as he pads across the room. There’s a door about fifteen feet to the right of me and if I get enough of a start I know I can make it; Pulling the damn thing shut and high-tailing it out of here seems like a really smart plan to me right now. I launch myself at it, vaulting over another consul to do it. I very nearly make it but Logan’s too quick for me; He leaps clear across the tops of three control-desks to reach me, his movements limber and lethally concise as a jungle cat. The claws smash into the door an inch from my nose and I slam myself backwards: I feel the impact of the heavy, stainless steel door-jam ratchet up my spine and if it wasn’t for the super-soldier serum tomorrow I’d be black and blue. He slams the metal door into me, knocking me backwards and disorientating me; I see the flash of the blades in the red-and-green light and then suddenly something smashes into me, something too warm and soft to be a suddenly-charitable Wolverine. I tumble-once, twice- along the floor, the weight of whoever saved me pressing into me. I come to a rest to see Rogue’s face above mine, her lip smeared with blood and grease, a black eye blooming against her milky, alabaster skin. There’s a yell from the corridor and Wolverine comes straight at us; The sight of Rogue straddling me, strangely enough, doesn’t seem to be helping his calm. I roll myself to take the impact of the blow, knowing he’ll hate himself later if he hurts her-

And then, suddenly, Wolverine stops coming.

Suddenly the man I know is looking out through his eyes again, and his expression looks- It looks like he’s just taken a peek into Hell.

I pull back, not sure what’s happening. Try to roll away so that Rogue can stand. And as I do I follow his line of sight, my eyes widening. The realisation of what image was shocking enough to stop him rattling through my brain. Because Rogue’s uniform is cut and slit right across her abdomen; There’s enough skin showing to give someone a really nasty dose of her power- The kind of dose that could kill. But right where that naked flesh is pressing into me my own uniform’s split open: My bare arm was against her the entire time we were rolling away- And I didn’t feel it. I didn’t feel her power’s draw at all. A second later she sees what’s happening and tries to pull away from me; I reach for her, not willing to let her get scared unless she needs to be, and put my bare hand right on her cheek. It’s so very, very soft that my thumb skims over it. I hear the Wolverine growl at the intimacy but I can’t make myself pull away. She freezes under my touch, the shock of it obvious. In all the months I’ve been here it never occurred to me to check whether her touch worked on me and now I curse myself for not thinking of this, for not trying to find out if whatever alchemy project Rebirth worked on me would allow me to give her even one touch. One embrace. One stolen, oh-so-worth-it kiss. We stay like that, frozen, as the sim’ powers down around us. Stay like that even as I hear ’Ro and Jubes speak very softly to Wolverine, their voices far away and trying to soothe. Rogue’s looking in my eyes, this half terrified, half delighted look on her face and I can’t help it, I lean forward and brush my lips against hers-

By the time we break apart and look away from each other, the Wolverine’s already gone.

He’s not in his room when Rogue drops by that night, and we don’t see him for another month- Just like we don’t see Jean.

He lights up when she walks in a room.

They both do. Soon as Logan sees her now he all but wags his tail at her; Soon as Steve realises she’s arrived it’s a toss-up whether he’ll drool or trip over his jaw on the way to the door. It’d be sickening if Rogue weren’t so damn oblivious to it-

Turns out however the scrawny, bratty little girl I met may have blossomed into a goddess but nobody told her about it.

And if not knowing means that she doesn’t realise just how bad my newly-returned fiancé has it for her, then I certainly am not prepared to be the one to point it out.

Hear a soft sigh then, and slide a look at Ororo. She’s staring at me in that pointed, slightly disappointed way that used to work so well on Scott, Lord rest him. Her blue eyes narrowed as they meet my green ones, everything about her body language telling me that she’s less than pleased with her team medic, let alone her best friend. It’s the same look she’s been throwing me ever since Logan and I returned from our month in Mexico and I try to ignore it; She wasn’t exactly supportive when we first started dating and she was even less encouraging when we moved in together. In fact, she flat out told me that she thought it was a bad idea. Too many unpredictable elements, too much possibility for disaster. Not to mention this ridiculous notion she has that I don’t really know Wolverine. At least, not as well as Marie. For someone known as the conciliatory one in the team she can be really damn judgemental at times-

But then I suppose Her Serene ’Roness saw this coming before the others did, and she therefore feels that I brought my current troubles upon myself. It must have never occurred to her that I just loved Logan so much I was prepared to risk it, prepared to take a chance on him never figuring out the way he felt about Rogue. What can I say? I spent my entire life being the perfect, unflappable Doctor Jean Grey. I spent every waking moment trying to be faultless for the X-Men, for Charles, for Scott. For everyone. I never even knew who I was really until Alcatraz, and by then it was clearly too late-

So can you blame me for wanting a second chance with the man I adore? Can you?

Because until you’ve walked a mile in my shoes, boys and girls, you really don’t have the right to judge.

I hear Logan mutter something under his breath then that would have done a dock full of sailors proud. His big, heavy arm coming to rest on my shoulders, his hand snaking down to stroke my thigh, fingers rough but warm through my skirt. His eyes come to rest on the engagement ring he gave me in Acapulco, the one which still doesn’t feel right on my finger no matter how long I wear it and I squeeze his fingers between mine, earning a little affectionate grunt in response- Though I can’t help but feel that he’s staring at the ring because he’s trying not to stare at something else. My suspicions are confirmed when I hear an uncomfortably sharp little huff of breath taken to my right and my eye is drawn to Rogue, standing by the TV room doorway in a forest green, forties-style tea dress. She has her hair swept up and she’s wearing period makeup, which just happens to make her look like Rita Hayworth. I’m secure enough in myself to allow that she looks really good. Jubes and her girlfriend Laura are standing behind her, grinning: They found a club in the city that plays live swing as a gift for Rogue being named team-leader after her re-trial last week. And judging by her outfit she’s going all out the look the part for the one man in the Mansion who would know if she gets even the tiniest detail wrong. And speaking of-

Steve Rogers is standing in the hallway behind her, staring at her so hard I’m surprised her dress hasn’t burst into flames already. He looks like he thinks every Christmas of his has come at once and then some- Which doesn’t exactly seem to be calming my Wolverine. Jubes making some sarcastic comment and suddenly the younger man blinks, apparently remembering where he is. Handing her a single white rose- her favourite- as he helps her with her coat. Rogue blushes as he offers her his arm but takes it, murmuring a thanks to Jubes and Laura before wishing us a goodnight. Her eyes resolutely skip over Logan as she speaks but the attempt at tact is unnecessary. I can tell she flinched when she saw him put his arm around me; I know she did because she always does. I don’t like that I like making her feel that way, but I suppose I have to be honest, I do like it-

I can feel Her Serene ’Roness staring at me from across the room and I force myself to smile.

Silence descends then, after they close the door behind themselves. The scent of arousal, I suspect, making my man even more tetchy than usual. The way Rogue was looking at Rogers as she left- and the fact that they can touch now- leaving no doubt about how taken she was with her date. Logan manages to restrain himself for about five minutes before he gets up and grunts something about needing some air; He sends me a telepathic image of the Danger Room, the message a clear indication that he wants to be alone. It’s another thing that I find so addictive about Logan, the fact that I can only see what he shows me. Scott and I were in one another’s minds from practically the moment we got together and the closeness which that brought was suffocating, no matter how useful it was in the field. But with Logan- I can’t know, I have to ask him. It’s something about the way the feral mind works. And since he hates talking almost as much as I do now, it’s just good times all the way. We don’t go in for all that touchy-feely stuff I had to sit through with Scott. I see a picture in his mind of a row of Sentinels, practically smell the anticipation he feels at the thought of fighting them. So I wave him off with a nod and a smile, trying to look calm for him. The fact that I’m relieved Rogers finally got around to making some progress with Rogue definitely improving my mood. Because this thing, with Logan and Rogue, this jealousy? It’s harmless.

And once Steve and Marie get on with things myself and Logan will go back to the way we were and everything will be fine again.

“You’re an idiot,” I hear Storm murmur then, and I’m so surprised she actually said it out loud that I blink up at her. With the departure of Logan it’s only her and me in the TV room and I’m surprised she’s looking for a fight. It’s not usually her style.

I give her a shot of my best Conciliatory Counsellor. “Sorry, ’Ro,” I say. “What was that again?”

Her look is hard. Unamused. “You know damn well what I mean.”

Nope, I don’t. And if she wants to have this conversation she’s going to have to say it. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a little bit less cryptic,” I tell her. “I know I’m telepathic but I try to keep out of other people’s heads-”

She actually snorts at me. “Only because you know you won’t like what you see.” And she stands, towering over me, every inch the weather goddess. She seems to forget that I remember what she was like when she first arrived at Xavier’s, back when she was still half convinced that she really was a tribal goddess. Suffice it to say the adjustment period was not easy for young miss Monroe. “How long are you going to keep this up, Jeannie?” she asks me. “How long are you going to keep hoping that how he feels about Marie will go away? Or are you actually under the impression that Rogers will do your dirty work for you and seduce her? Because we need her on the team-”

I shrug, deciding that if she wants to lay her cards on the table like that I can be equally blunt. “Rogue’s not going to leave the team, she hasn’t the spine for it- Even if we need her, which we don’t.” And I nod to myself, telling myself it’s the truth. That little girl, that scrawny teenager I remember cannot have grown into the glue which held this team together all these years; That’s my job. “As for Logan- You don’t approve. You’ve never approved. I don’t know whether it’s jealousy or those controlling tendencies Charles used to warn you about-”

Lightning suddenly and inexplicably splits the summer sky outside and I realise I’ve hit a nerve. I seem to be good at that. “If anyone needs to look at their controlling tendencies, Jean, it’s you,” she hisses. “I’m not the reason the Golden Gate Bridge is now considered a memorial to the defeat of mutant terrorists.” And she crosses her arms tightly, eyes turning white for a moment. There’s a clap of thunder far away but nothing else to indicate she’s lost control. For a moment I think she’ll start to hover- another nervous habit she had when she first came to us- but her feet never leave the ground. She’s tightening her fists though.

She sends me a mental image of her decking me and despite the shock I know she wants me to feel my face breaks into a smile.

’Ro sags then, the fight going out of her. I’m surprised: If she folded that easily on the battlefield the Brotherhood would have over-run us years ago. “You never really came back to us, did you Jeannie?” she says softly. “The girl I knew, the woman I grew up with- She died at Alkali Lake, didn’t she?” And she shakes her platinum head mournfully, her blue eyes sorrowing as they look into mine. For a moment I feel like the biggest bitch in the world. For a moment I miss Scott so much I think I’ll cry. For a moment. But then-

“No,” I tell her, “I’m still your friend ’Ro. I’m still Jeannie, it’s just now I’m honest about what I want. And I want Logan.”

“But Logan doesn’t want you. I don’t know how I can make you see that.”

And she shakes her head again, her voice as soft as if she’s bestowing a curse. ’Ro was always more…tender than I was, for all the worldly-wise toughness she seems to project. No wonder Charles was so crazy about her. No wonder that deep down her trusted her more than me. “I need some air,” she says eventually, “I’m going into town now. You and Logan spend tonight however you want but tomorrow I want you gone, out to the boat house at least.” I blink, surprised at the order. It’s a long time since she’s given me one- or had to. She shrugs. “Tonight’s the night for Rogue and Steve, I’m guessing,” she tells me. “I saw the way he was looking at her, and I certainly saw the way she was looking at him. I don’t want Logan in the house for that any more than you do- Rogers might not survive it, and I won’t do that to Rogue. So get him gone.”

And with a curt nod she turns to pull the door open. About to melt into the darkness like the thief she once was. But before she can do it we hear a bellow of rage, loud and echoing through the mansion. The voice as recognisable to me as my own, for all its feral gruffness and growl. But there’s something else in it, something haunting. Something I can’t say I’ve ever heard from Logan before. It makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck; Storm and I exchange looks and without hesitation we head towards the Danger Room. My bare feet slipping and sliding on the polished marble floors, some dread I have neither name nor explanation for curling like a snake inside my head. We skid to a halt at the door, Storm hastily pressing in her security cold with shaking fingers. When the doors open we see Logan rocking on his heels, covered in simulated blood and viscera, his gaze feral and dark and mean. He’s surrounded by body parts, bits and pieces of what it might once have been Steve Rogers-

And in his arms he’s cradling a body.

One so cut and maimed and bleeding that it seems impossible to recognise.

A sim’ of Marie is in the corner, crying. He keeps looking at her as if trying to convince himself she’s real, as if he feels bad about her seeing this- Which, judging how protective he normally is of her is more than likely the case. I move to comfort him, suppressing a flash of jealousy that there’s no simulated me here. Try to check his wounds though the healing factor’s already taking care of them, wanting him to lean into me and ask for me as I do so. As I take care of this man I gave up so much of myself to want. And as I do I glance down to see that he’s cradling a sim’ of his own corpse, its flesh mutilated and still and bleeding. His face gauged and claws and ripped open, adamantium glinting through the flesh in the dim light. Dark eyes stare up at me: “The tank didn’t do to Rogers what it did to me,” he mutters. He starts rocking again. “The tank made him whole, fer Rogue, fer everyone-”

I try to hold him but he moves away from me.

I don’t know what else to do so I settle down beside him and watch.

He lights up when she walks in a room.

Always has done, suspect he always will do. Doesn’t matter whether it’s the garage when Rogue’s sneaking back into the Mansion bearing contraband- (What? The Jube needed her Cosmo…) Doesn’t matter if she’s eyeing one of the bikes for another unplanned and wholly unauthorised road trip down South- (Family shit… Whatcha gonna do?) Doesn’t even matter that he’s a teacher and he’s with another teacher and he’s been telling himself he doesn’t want her for practically a decade- (Denial as superpower: Discuss). Fact is, soon as Wolvie sees Marie he just melts, and everybody knows it-

Of course when the room in question is one of the Infirmary’s “penalty boxes,” as it is tonight it ain’t nearly so romantic as I just made it sound.

And the fact that he’s covered in blood- and it’s his own- also kinda sucks the Hallmark outta the moment.

Feel Laura ghost into place beside me then, her thin, strong arms wrapping around my waist. She’s tucked her chin onto my shoulder and I can sense the tension coiling through her. Feel the anger she hasn’t really the words to express yet vibrating through her frame. See the thing is, she loves Logan as much as I do- So watching him through a one way mirror, the Wolverine right at the surface and snarling for his Roguey, is upsetting to her. Bringing back bad memories of the Institute. Bringing back bad memories of what was done to her. I wrap my arms around hers, stroking at her knuckles where the claws come out. She purrs a little, tightening her grip on me. Telling me in in only language she’s truly fluent in that she’s just glad I’m here. The scent of our contentment must have leaked into Wolvie’s penalty box because he raises his head, looking straight at us through the mirror. There’s nothing of the man I know in that gaze, but I recognise the mean sonofabitch the government made outta his inner beast right away. It’s the same bastard I remember seeing the day Marie realised she could touch Steve. At seeing his look Laura draws her teeth back, a small growl escaping from her. Like every feral I’ve ever known she has the protectiveness thing down pat. I try to hush her, whispering gently that it’s nothing, that he won’t try anything-

I can tell that her inner beast doesn’t entirely believe that but she’s willing to give Wolverine the benefit of the doubt. For now.

Door opens somewhere to my right then and I see Rogue and Rogers walk through it. Her hair’s down and she’s not wearing any makeup, the princess me and Laura managed to conjure for her big night with Steve now hidden behind an Xavier School tracksuit and tee. Doesn’t matter though; Steve’s holding her hand and staring at her like he thinks she’s an angel. He’s also draped his leather jacket over her shoulders just in case chica decides to turn Southern belle and catch herself a chill. Even if I hadn’t been the one to pick them up from the hotel suite me and Stark arranged (What? They needed some alone time…) their relationship would still be obvious. There’s this…aura of excitement and contentment that surrounds them, the tell-tale jitteriness of those who have recently realised that they’re in love. I remember how that feels. Laura shoots Steve a small smile- they get along really well, miracle of miracles- and he smiles uncomfortably back, giving me a little nod in greeting. I can tell he’s really nervous about the situation but he’s trying not to let it show. “How is he?” he asks quietly, nodding through the glass to Logan. “Has he-”

“He is demanding to speak to Marie,” Laura tells him stiffly. Her hands tighten beneath mine. “He is… He is claiming that we are keeping his mate from him.”

I hear Rogue give a sharp, annoyed little breath. “So that’s why Jeannie wanted me to shower,” she mutters.

Steve’s eyebrows rise in incomprehension and Rogue shrugs. “He’ll be able to smell you on me. Smell the way we…”

And she trails off, the pair of them blushing identical shades of crimson and looking at the floor. Roger’s hand tightens on Marie’s though, and he looks up first, giving the room in general a challenging look. As if daring anyone to say anything about his girl, now that she’s finally decided that she’s his. I smile despite myself, liking the show of bravado from the guy. Sometimes you just gotta stand up for your honey, no matter what people might say. Rogue must like it too because she turns and plants a tiny kiss on his lips, her cheeks if possible turning a deeper crimson. Wraps her arms around his neck, whispers something quiet I don’t catch in his ear. He nods though I can tell he doesn’t like what he’s agreed to. Roguey gives his hand a final squeeze and walks towards the entrance to Logan’s cell, her head held high and her shoulders set. She pushes the door open and at the edge of my mind I feel Doctor Grey pressing lightly. She’s somewhere up in the Observation Booth, watching this mess play out from a safe distance- And isn’t that just Jeannie’s MO to a tee? But I push her presence away and to be fair she takes the hint. Lets me.

I feel the tiniest stab of pity for her, because I know that watching the man you love try to get down and growly with another woman must really, really suck.

Watch as the Wolverine takes in Rogue’s presence then. His posture hunching over, shoulders rolling. Nose sniffing and taking in her scent, his eyes narrowed to mean little slits. This isn’t Logan, not really. It’s not even really his inner animal, because him I’ve had to deal with and he’s actually kinda cool. No, this is the Wolverine, the thing Weapon X turned him into. It’s Logan without the good parts, Logan without his soul. I can tell Rogue’s come to the same conclusion and I wonder whether she’s disappointed that it’s not the guy she loved all these years but his evil twin that’s been hollering for her all night long. My girl’s a professional though and she keeps her gaze steady. Leans against the door, arms crossed tightly while she stares the Wolverine down. There’s a flash of movement almost too fast to follow and suddenly he’s in her face. One hand planted in her hair, the other at her hip. His nose pressed firmly against the delicate skin behind her ear. From the corner of my eye I see Steve start, make as if to go in there. Laura stops him, murmuring that Marie can take care of herself and if she felt she couldn’t we would certainly know by now. I can tell Rogers doesn’t like the answer but allows it, manages to get a handle on his temper and calm some-

Just to be safe Laura stays close to his six though.

There’s a reason myself and Laura are here tonight and it’s not really to protect the Wolverine.

I turn back to the cell to see Marie holding still then, her eyes fixed on some point in front of her. Every inch of her stiff and unyielding, the body language disengaged and totally, utterly cold. I can’t hear what the Wolverine’s saying and she hasn’t spoken yet; It’s obvious from the look on her face though that our boy ain’t exactly spouting poetry in her ear. He’s grinding himself against her, an action I know would embarrass the Hell outta him were he in his right mind: Logan’s a lotta things but he’s never been an asshole with the women that he trains. When Rogue doesn’t respond to the He-Man treatment however he growls, tries to move his hand lower across her belly. It’s obvious where his touch is headed and she swats the hand away, finally getting pissed. Again Steve makes to go in there, again Laura stops him: Rogue’s already twisted herself out of the Wolverine’s grasp, planted a quick, sharp rabbit punch to the back of his head. Leaving him disorientated and annoyed. He hisses in the pain, going for her; She jabs at him again, makes to take off her glove.

“Ah swear, Logan,” she murmurs, “Ah swear you do this and Ah’ll drop you-”

The Wolverine’s smile is predatory. “If you want me inside you that much,” he purrs sly, “then all you gotta do is ask, baby.”

And he tackles her to the ground, pinning her. Forcing one knee between her thighs as she struggles there and cusses enough to do a fleet of sailors proud. Maybe it’s the crassness of the come-on, maybe it’s the stress of being dragged outta bed in the Astoria. But Rogue smashes the heel of her hand into his jaw and knocks him clear off her. Jumps to her feet and kicks him where he lies. Because now, ladies and gentlemen, my girl is Officially Pissed. He grabs her foot, yanking it and knocking her onto her back again. She calls on Pete’s power, making her skin metallic and smashes her fist into his jaw. The Wolverine lets out a string of cuss words, dazed by the blow: Within seconds she’s on her feet, her posture dropping like she’s about to engage an opponent- Which given the way the Wolverine’s reacting she kinda, sorta is. They circle one another, feinting, shadow-boxing. It’s part battle and part mating dance and the eventual winner is something I honestly don’t think I can call. “I wanna talk to Logan,” she’s hissing, her voice breathless. “Ah ain’t dealin’ with the messenger boy: Get the boss-man up here right the fuck now-”

“Logan’s not here,” the feral murmurs as he jabs at her. “’Fraid you’ll haveta deal with me, sweetheart- Haveta deal with the monster and not his fuckin’ leash-”

And he makes to touch her again, eyes glinting. She swings at him, another dirty rabbit jab to the back of his head before bringing her knee up to slam into his groin so hard that even Laura winces- And violence-wise my honey isn’t easy to impress. The Wolverine smashes his fist into her abdomen though and she curses, her leg smacking soundly into his chest in a roundhouse kick that makes even my teeth shake. She wraps her legs around his waist, squeezing tightly. Yanking his hair so hard with her little hands I’m surprised it doesn‘t come out. “Don’t bullshit me,” she’s saying, voice breathless. “Ah’ve known you for a decade. Logan’s here, he’s always here. He just occasionally likes to let you do his dirty work when he don’t wanna be the bad guy-”

The Wolverine’s laugh is more like a snarl. “He is the bad guy, he’s always been the bad guy-”

“He ain’t the bad guy,” she hisses, “That’s just his get outta jail free card talkin’-”

And without the slightest hesitation she calls on Carol’s power, levitating herself upwards.

Knocking the Wolverine backwards a single, powerful, unmercifully hard kick.

He lands messily against the wall to the right of us, the blow hard enough to hurt anybody normal- So it’s a good thing that normal has never been the watch-word when you’re dealing with the Wolverine. I see it then, see the real him come to the surface. It’s in the slightly softer tilt of his eyebrows, the turned down sorrow of his mouth. In the shifting of his hands to keep the blades away from her, as if he’s secretly terrified that they’ll accidentally pop out and hurt her again no matter what he does. Rogue must see it too because her stance eases. She lands lightly on the floor beside him, not too near but close enough to reach out for if he feels he must. For a moment their eyes lock, that Vulcan mind-meld thing they sometimes do going on between them. The slight cock of his head showing his contrition, the tiny drop of her shoulders showing her acceptance of the closest thing to an apology she’ll ever get. He puts his hand to her shoulder, gripping lightly and whispers something. She shakes her head, biting her lip and then whispers something back. For a second Logan’s eyes stray to the mirror and I can tell he’s looking at Steve; I swear I could stare at his expression for a year and not see even half of what’s going on in his head. And then just as suddenly his eyes are back on Rogue; They’re warm. Loving. His arms cradling her though there’s something defeated in his posture as he reaches out to bring her hand to rest against his heart. He tugs the glove she’d half removed down, tucking it into the leather jacket cuff. Twines his own fingers through it, darts a kiss onto her knuckles quick as you please. She sighs, worried. Restless. Uncertain.

But it’s the guilt in both their expressions that strikes me the most.

“It wasn’t right, kid,” I hear him say then. He’s making sure to sat this loud enough to be heard by his audience. I can tell this is as much an apology to Steve as to her. “It wasn’t right what the other one felt- what he wanted me to do to you. It wasn’t right that he got out tonight, that he tried to drive your good man away. But he was jealous- So fucking jealous-” His face twists in a kind of anger. “Cos Rogers turned out like he-we- were meant to do…” And he shakes his head, trying to turn away from everyone.

I wanna hold him so badly right now that it’s an actual physical ache.

By the look on Roguey and Laura’s faces I’m not the only one.

“So that’s what tonight was about?” Rogue asks him quietly. “That’s why- Why you hurt yourself in the Danger Room?”

She’s biting her lip as she says it, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“Yeah.” And he nods, face torn, expression heart-wrung. The last time I saw him look like this we were putting Scott, Jeannie and the Professor in the ground. “He started whispering about you when you were only sixteen, Marie,” he tells her. “Started telling me how good you looked, how easy it would be to just… To just…” And again he shakes his head, hands fisting together. He looks like he wants to be blind, to have never had sight if it means he doesn’t have to revisit the images that he’s seeing in his head. “And I didn’t want that fer you,” he’s whispering, “You were just a baby. You were just a little girl, no matter what you looked like. No matter what that-that thing inside me said, I’d never, ever let myself do something like that to you.”

And he finally drops his head as if he’s told the most terrible secret man has ever committed to thought or speech. As if he really is that nasty sonofabitch the government made him and not simply the living, breathing, aching monster’s cage in which it lives. I see something- pity or maybe understanding- flicker through Laura’s eyes and I pull her close, holding her tightly. See Steve’s face turn ashen in understanding, as if he finally truly gets how different he and Logan are and why. Roguey nods, biting her lip sharply. Twisting it. Tears streaming down her face now as she realises that the man she loved has always loved her. That he’s been protecting her from himself all along and that he’ll never give it up no matter what it does to him- No matter what damage it’s already done to them both. Laura’s hands tighten on me, her grip on Steve loosening. I guess her senses are telling her he’ll be safe going into Marie if he feels she needs him but he doesn’t move, gives Marie and Logan their space and their moment. Because going in there right now would feel like gloating and that’s not Steve, dude-

Say what you like about ole Captain America but that’s just not who he is.

Marie sniffs then, putting her forehead to Logan’s. Kissing his brow, his eyelids. Sweeping her gloved hands over his mutton-chops to hold him close and look into his face. “Thank you,” she’s saying through a tight throat. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for loving me that much Logan. Thank you for trying to- to give me that.”

And she kisses him once, very softly, on the lips as she says goodbye to him.

I see the look on his face as she does it and it’s unreadable- But when I see Laura looking at him her eyes are bright with tears.

And then Rogue lets go of him and opens the door and wraps her arms around Steve. She’s crying and he rocks her, whispering to her, telling her he loves her. Other shit, private shit that nobody else deserves to hear- And if they try to listen in then they’ll have to deal with me. Me and Laura walk past them into the Penalty Box and check on Wolvie. He’s healing from what he did to himself in the Danger Room, but the rest of him- That I can’t see the wounds of so I’m not sure how long the hurt is going to last. After all, I’m one of the only people who knows how long it takes my Wolvie to well and truly heal. His eyes are on the one-way mirror, staring at it as if he can still see Rogue and Rogers. Gaze looking about a million years older than I’ve ever seen it do, his craggy, perfect face looking about a million years older than my tough-as-dirt old man actually fucking is. Laura’s holding him close, helping him to sit up. They’re sniffing each other which I gotta tell you for ferals is just plain par for the course. Logan grabs Laura’s hand as she moves him, pulls her into his side. It’s more physical closeness than she’s used to from him and she looks at him askance. “I did the right thing, didn’t I?” he asks her, nearly growling. “You smelt- I did the right thing by her, didn’t I, Laura? Didn’t I..?”

And he shakes his head. Eyes riveted on the spot where Rogue’s just been.

My honey nods. “Yes, Logan,” she says simply. “You did right by her.” She reaches down and- in a first for her- kisses him lightly on the cheek. “Some sacrifices are worth it, isn’t that what you told me?” she whispers.

Logan nods and she helps him stand.

Jean walks in then, her eyes red as if she’s been crying. She’s staring at him as if she’s afraid he’ll bite her but he pulls her into his arms and hold her so, so tight. I suppose for her it’s a win. Me and Laura leave them there, not wanting to intrude any. Go to bed and pray we never, ever have another night like this one. Hold each other close in the darkness and remind ourselves how lucky we’ve been where that little sociopath Cupid’s concerned. It’s only a couple of weeks later when Marie tells me that she’s late that I think about what Logan said to Laura. Only a couple of weeks later when it occurs to me to wonder how honest he was being when he told her what some part of her might have wanted to hear.

And then I wonder- not for the first time- just what damage Logan might have done to himself to do right by his Marie. It’s a valid question.

Like I said, every feral I know has the protectiveness thing down pat.

He lights up when she walks in a room.

Don’t matter how long she’s been gone fer, whether it was a couple o’ minutes or a mission. Don’t matter how tired or how beat up she looks, the boy’s eyes just widen and he wraps his arms around her like he’s never gonna let her go. We all smile, look at one another, even if my smile ain’t as wide as the others’. It’s what we’ve been fighting fer, what we all wanted. To see Marie happy- And she’s at her happiest when she’s with him. He’s got light, neat, blond-brown hair like his daddy. The same even features, the same small, delicate frame Steve had before Project Rebirth went GI Joe on his ass. But his eyes, those are Marie’s: Wide and honest and brown and beautiful. The kinda eyes that right look through you. The kinda eyes you never wanna see filled with doubt. He may be the spitting image of his father but I see his momma in him every single time he looks at me-

And as much as that makes my heart hurt like a motherfucker it also makes me glad.

See him grin then, hold his arms out to Laura. She picks him up, cradling him to her chest while he shows her’n Jubes his newest toy and the pair of them laugh with him, telling him that he’s their favourite god-child. I guess that’s something else he got from his momma, his way with us ferals. Boy just seems to know how to talk to Laura, just like he seems to know how to act around me. It’s probably just as well: He’ll be starting defence with me soon, the baby course in anyways. His mutation hasn’t manifested yet- if it ever will do- but Steve’s got more’n enough enemies to make training little Jamie up worthwhile. I know Jeannie’s worried about it, not sure what it’ll dredge up between us. She’s no fool, my woman, she knows what Marie meant to me. But I made my choice that night in the Infirmary, and I’ll stick with it. I gave Rogue the out she needed and there’s no way I would ever go back on that. I smelt it on her, ya see, smelt what mighta been the beginning of a pregnancy. Smelt the hope and sex and affection from the night with Rogers and something just clicked inta place in my chest. Because that night in the Infirmary was the first time since Jeannie had returned that she’d smelt… happy. The first time in as long as I could remember that she hadn’t stank o’ heartbreak just because I was near.

And it was in that moment that I finally realised just how much I’d hurt her by bein’ a blind, self-involved moron-

Feel Jean pushin’ against my mind at that and realise I must be broadcasting. Seems to be something of a habit fer me whenever I think about Marie. I look across the room, give her this tight-lipped smile that’s part apology, part reassurance. Feel her mind slip away from mine now she’s made her point, watch her as she and ’Ro go back to flirting with Fury, Stark and LeBeau. I close my eyes, just fer a fraction of a second, trying to get a handle on my emotions. Trying to remind myself that everybody got what they wanted, even if it feels like some kinda purgatory the Bible never bothered to name. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I ain’t a saint and I ain’t a martyr: I got a beautiful woman who loves me in Red and I stuck with her. Made the effort once I realised she wasn’t gonna give up on me, wasn’t gonna give up on us. But she ain’t Marie and she ain’t ever gonna be. I know that, just like I ain’t ever gonna be that golden, perfect warrior that emerged from Project Rebirth oh so many years ago. I’m lucky, I’m happy Marie’s happy-

But when I stare at that little boy o’ hers I can’t help thinking shit I really don’t wanna dwell on.

I can’t help thinking of a little boy with auburn hair and innocent hazel eyes.