Everlong

by Jacal Ste. Worme

When The Cure came out, it was the second best fantasy that had happened in Marie's life, and at times it even overlapped her frontrunner Logan-as-my-Lover wish. It took a few days until she had admitted to herself that she wanted it. She didn't need to use Bobby's waning affections as an excuse to tell herself how after all that's been said and done, that she was still a coward. Marie was still that awkward, scared, barely-out-of-her-teens girl that had the same fears when she hitched a ride with the Wolverine.

For almost six years, Marie had become one of Xavier's adopted children, was led to believe that she had embraced her mutation, even if it meant being comfortable in her own poisonous skin. She almost bought the idea, she had been trying all this time to do so, to believe that the years she spent in the mansion was worth something. Almost. Because the moment things came crashing down, or rather, when things started to revolve solely around Jean and all that was Jean, that's when it dawned on Marie that in spite of all her efforts, just like her mutation –she sucked in terms of control.

She unexpectedly grasped the fact that no one was keeping an eye on her (what a baby she was!), Logan was more than full of himself in grieving for his long lost Red, and the Professor, as powerful as he was, wasn't really God at the end of the day, and even if she had been surrounded by 'family', who claimed they cared for her and accepted her for who she was –they didn't even realize she was still the selfish little mutant who wanted to get rid of her 'powers' just to be able to touch.

And thinking about the Professor, the man she respected almost as she did Logan, served only as a crutch in her life. She remembers spraining her ankle when she was a little girl, and she had to use those wooden crutches for days, and she only got better when she started doing those excruciating foot exercises. And Xavier, God bless his soul, however he was a man with good intentions, was a man with favorites, was only one man who couldn't be everywhere at the same time. Despite being the greatest telepath on earth, he couldn't really help her the way she would have wanted him to.

And Logan, her dear Logan, had been, once again the only person to have caught her in such a moment that could have changed her mind, could have brought her back, could have changed her life –but instead of telling her to stop, say no, try to strengthen the crumbling foundation she had tried so hard to build for herself, Logan let her leave the mansion without conviction, other than saying they were 'friends', that is. And as much as she would have loved to take his offer for a free ride in the condition that she did it for herself, she refused and took the bus instead, just because she didn't want to lie to his face.

Even so, Marie couldn't really hate Logan, who always managed to overlook her presence whenever Jean had been around, or was the topic of conversation. She understood him too much, and loved him more than she loved herself. She liked to please him, loved to make him feel that his fatal sacrifices for her had paid off and she, his ward, was living a semi-normal life with semi-normal relationships.

Normal? Erik laughed. You are a god among insects.

Think of something original next time, bub, Wolverine snapped. You're becoming a cliché.

And here she thought that these two dominant voices in her head were quiet and observant today. So much for wishful thinking. Marie could only sigh as she sat on the bus alone, massaging and squeezing her gloved hands. With what she was feeling now, she knew she would take The Cure just to be able to touch him again. And if the cure fails, she would call his number and tell him she was dying, just so he can come to the rescue and force his fucking hands on her if that's what it took…

But things didn't always take that expected turn. With how her life usually ran its course, Marie should have known better. Right about the time she was about to get down from the bus, where she was supposed to literally reach for her dreams, to be normal, finally…

Marie remained where she was, gazing at the entrance of the bus, waiting for the familiar, dark unruly hair, leather jacket and muttonchops, wishing that maybe, maybe, he had come after her just like he did six years ago…

But he never came.

The only Logan present was the one in her head.

Some things were much more important than Marie right now. Her heart doubled in speed when the bus driver said that the next town would be a long trip, so they better get ready. The bus will be leaving in five minutes.

Wolverine's voice mumbled in her head, I'm sorry, darlin'.

Sighing to herself, Marie stared out the window, looked at all the protesters and picket signs, all the police, all the drama, and Rogue thought, not today. Maybe this, what she was doing, was not out of fear. Maybe this transition was meant to happen all along. She could almost imagine Erik dancing for joy.

I do not dance for joy, Erik corrected her. I waltz.

No need for the demo, Maggie, Wolverine warned.

This wasn't cowardice, Rogue told herself, ignoring the usual banter between the two. This was supposed to happen. Though she had all those normal things normal people had, all the things Logan thought she needed, she had saved her allowance ever since she started receiving it from the Professor, stashing it in her secret emergency duffel bag under her bed. She had always been prepared to leave. Ready. And she still wanted the cure, but not today. Not today. It didn't feel right.

Now, she was just supposed to run.

"I'm not a coward," she told herself again. This is Marie, embracing Rogue. Wasn't this what the Professor wanted? The man was onto something, it seems. I'll grieve for you by being me, Professor. It's a start, isn't it?

It took you long enough, child, Erik comments, but Marie tries to ignore him.

Wolverine was silent this time.

The real lesson begins now that she's out of the school.

Deflated, she sank back to her seat. Now she's finally on her own.

Back to square one.

Two weeks later...

After Jean's death, Logan had sunk into a quasi-pit of despair. Quasi, because he couldn't drown in sorrow as much as he wanted to –no, not when he was forced to hold shit together after finally losing three valuable assets in the school. Ororo begged him to stay, please stay, because having someone with his grumbling authority was actually a necessity this time around. And even during The Week where they were allowed to find solitude and do eulogies and stuff, Logan couldn't even find it in himself to ride his bike (reminded him too much of Scott, the pansy son of a bitch), immerse himself to a drunken stupor (reminded him too much of Jean) or run away (reminded him too much of Marie). He didn't know why he stuck around either, as it clearly reminded him of the Professor, but it was a good kind of distraction. At least, he knew, staying would help keep the institution in one piece.

This is gratitude, Logan thought. Helping out because, after all, the Professor had kept good in his word by taking care of Marie every time he left and returned the first three years of being associated with them.

Christ, Marie.

Logan clenched his jaw in her memory, the same way his heart did for reasons unknown. Because he wanted to believe that if he stayed longer, she would return. After all, this was her home now, wasn't it? Or maybe, after taking the cure Marie had made a life for herself, free from all the bullshit that surrounded their lives before and after The Week. Even believing so, Logan felt a nagging suspicion that she was out there –purposely running away from him, of all people, but he chose to push the thought away.

However, the more he thought about her, the more he felt the need to find her. And it wasn't just because the Wolverine inside his head kept taunting him about it. Blaming him for her decision to take the cure, blaming him for being such a dense idiot, blaming him for being a dick to her when she was vulnerable. Logan could only wince at the thought that Marie had made such an impression to his feral side years ago that his concern for her was overwhelming even to him –which was a feat in itself.

But Jean's death, followed by Scott, and then the Professor –now that was overwhelming. With regards to the redhead, it was the first time Logan lost someone he cared about, someone he planned to do more than flirt with. And when he told her he loved her before that final moment, tasting those three words in his lips before ending her life, Logan couldn't help but feel, rather… floored. He felt himself lost in the sensation of saying she meant to him more than a mindless flirt and possible fuck, and it made his heart ache with so much sadness that he wondered if that's what love was really about. He knows how he had never said 'I love you' to anyone before.

Not even Marie, the person who marked the beginning of his living. When he stopped merely existing.

The grief expands again because of that name, and once more, Logan wonders why would she need to run away.Why, kid? Why leave the life we've made here? I thought you were fine, weren't you? I thought we were close friends, and you go on with your life without as much as a goodbye to me? You trying to pull one on me, leaving me like I've left you before, is that it? Why the fuck did you leave me in this mansion, Marie? Don't you want to fucking see me anymore?

Instead of setting out to find answers to those questions, Logan chose to focus on the right here and right now. That, and he was starting to think like a fucking pansy. He was not going to shy away from the fact that in this mansion, he had friends, and he honestly wanted to honor Charles Xavier by settling even just a little longer, at least until things were back on track. As much as Logan felt like he was such a mess, he liked to think that he was doing the right thing. Be the good guy for once, even if there was no Jean to give him approval, or Marie to appreciate all that.

However, the week after The Week, Logan found himself getting more anxious and anxious each time he would return to his sleeping quarters. He didn't feel like dozing off, he felt the need to feel the wind on his face, the road in front of him.

But what about his defense class tomorrow morning?

There's a reason you've got healin' powers, moron, Wolverine mocked him. Use it.

"Sorry, Scooter," Logan mumbled, and mounted his bike. He remembers her years ago, smaller, thinner, afraid, those wide eyes staring up at him with so much emotion he thought he would balk and stay because she asked him to.

I don't want you to go.

Logan said 'I'll be back for this' when he gave her his dog tags then. Guess he should have said something else. Something more specific. Something like 'I'll be back for you.' Too late.

After everything they've been through, Logan always knew his home had a name.

Marie.

"…we call on you to lend a hand to restore the Golden Gate Bridge, as this will serve as an opportunity to…"

Roge tuned out the blaring television on the counter and focused on the roadmap in her hands. She was trying to figure out her next destination. For the past few days, her intuition was telling her to move. She had resorted to hitchhiking when she decided she needed to save money. And considering that her personal intuition has saved her a couple of times now, she decided to listen to it. After buying a one-way ticket to Vancouver, she kept moving from one town to the next, and now she was stuck somewhere in British Columbia. There's just something about Canada, and that was probably the nostalgic Logan in her head talking.

Don't you just want a beer with that thought, darlin'? You, me–

And me, Erik piped in. You are incorrigible, Wolverine. Corrupting–

"Alkali Lake," she whispered a bit loudly to drown their voices out, thumbing the spot somewhere in the map. She snickered to herself as memories from that disastrous day came back to her. How could she hate Jean? Like Logan, they always seemed to do things for the greater good. Unlike her, she only ever did things for herself.

You were my greater good, Marie. I'm smart enough to admit that.

And humans deserve to pay for thinking that mutants–

What did I say about clichés, Bucket Head?

Instead of listening to them go at it again, or have a pity party in the diner, Rogue shifted in her seat and stood up. Maybe it was time to check the parking area to see if anyone was leaving for somewhere North. North, just like Logan. Ugh, maybe she just idolized him, why she kept thinking of him this much.

Keep tellin' yourself that, darlin'.

I, for once, agree with the brute.

"Shut the fuck up, you two," she whispered harshly, and was thankful no one was looking at her like she was crazy. Leaving a few bills on the counter, she hoisted her bag up her shoulder and made her way out.

Much to her disappointment, the few cars and trucks in the area looked like they were just there, no drivers loitering whatsoever. Well, not everyone was in a rush to leave. She groaned to herself and decided to hit the road on her own. Her boots could last till the next town anyway. If she dies from the cold, then so be it. As she started walking, Rogue heard a clang from the distance, like something or someone shoved, hits against something metallic. There was struggling, and unable to help herself, Rogue cautiously followed the commotion. Maybe someone needed help, she thought, and walked quietly to what seemed like two men arguing in the distance.

What was it about the greater good thing again, bub?

She thinks too lowly of herself, this one.

And I agree with you right there, old man.

Rogue rolled her eyes, all the while following a small path behind the diner that led to an unpleasant trailer park. She listens for a while and hears it again.

"I said, let me go."

"I just wanted to help. Suit your self."

"Wasn't asking," the younger man spat.

The voice was all too familiar.

"Good morning, class," he greets once he enters the room. He places his blue tumbler at the teacher's table and for a few minutes, the distinct scent of coffee fills the entire room. "I don't suppose you guys are up for a pop quiz?" he laughs. Everyone groans in response; his humor was never really appealing.

Rogue stiffened. In an instant, she was dashing towards that eerie feeling, that voice.

"Happy birthday, Rogue. Please don't end up in jail by the end of the night." He sounds like he was joking, but the serious expression, those red shades of his covering his eyes, Marie really found him hard to read. She laughs anyway and thanks him for remembering. "I'm serious," he adds and she just rolls her eyes.

She felt like she was going to throw up with the tension she was feeling in her gut.

"Look, she's a young woman. You can't just let her in your room whenever you please." He didn't know she was eavesdropping, but Logan did. He doesn't take it easy on the feral, never really did. Logan waves him off, saying the other man was the one with a dirty mind. He doesn't say it out loud, but Logan really meant that 'she's just a kid'.

For a while, it stings, and Marie wanted nothing more but for his suspicions to be true. At least he knew she wasn't a silly schoolgirl with a crush anymore. Unlike Logan...

Emotion thick in her throat, Rogue gasped sharply as she regarded the beat-up physique of the man who sat back to lean against a jarred door that was part of a sorry excuse of shack, a far cry from the lavish mansion he called home. "Scott...?"

In all honesty, Scott looked pretty good –if you were planning to perv on him notwithstanding his situation. He lived like a beggar the past few weeks, but his muscles appeared firm, but he definitely looked feeble, probably due to the emotional torment he was going through. Though bathed and clean, he still looked disheveled. He looked older, exhausted, like life had kicked him in the nuts and he was trying hard not to recover.

But Scott knew better than to let his depression get in the way of his appetite. Even if his eyes were tightly shut with bandages, he was eating his plate of omelet, sausages, toast, a hamburger, bacon, waffles like the feast it was. He didn't play the blind part, that's for sure. When he realized she was most likely staring at him because she was so quiet, he quipped, "I wasn't born with the shades, you know."

At least he's got a sense of humor now, Rogue thought, watching him intently from across the table. Thing is, she didn't really know what to say, so she settled for asking trivial questions. Nothing serious. You hungry? Want more bacon? She didn't know how to approach the sensitive Jean subject, but something was telling her that Scott was more than aware of what transpired lately.

After taking a sip of his coffee, Scott puts the small white mug down, 2 o'clock of his plate. He then dabs the corner of his mouth with the napkin from his lap. He takes a deep breath and looks up towards her. "Thank you for the meal."

Scott was probably just being polite, but Rogue suddenly had to blink back tears. He had always been such a good, strong guy and seeing him all frail, weak-like, made her feel downright sad. "F-for god's sake, Scott, you're my friend. Why haven't you tried calling the mansion!?"

"What's the use? It's not like she's going to be there," Scott answered with a nonchalant shrug. He raised a brow in her direction. "I'm not asking you why you're here in the middle of nowhere."

Rogue took a deep breath. She tries her best to be calm. "I'm sorry." She plays with the zip of her hood. "My bad."

"I'm not ready, I guess. After losing the link with her, I knew she was gone. Even if the Phoenix was…" he trailed off, the strength in his voice wavering. "I lost her. For good this time."

"It's not just about her, you know," Rogue said slowly, though she hoped the bitterness didn't seep from her voice. "I'm not saying you should go back now, but…"

"Why are you here, Rogue?"

Of course he's quick on this whole back and forth thing. Might as well hit him with the truth… at least some of it. "There's nothing for me there anymore." At least, not the way she wanted things to be. Rogue could already see LOGAN flashing in Scott's head in bright lights, but he didn't call her out on it, just because it was a low blow.

"Same for me–"

"I doubt it," Rogue cuts him off quickly. "The Professor would have wanted you to…" She swallowed then, saw the raw emotions on his face. Despair. Like she buried three adamantium claws in his chest.

"He's… gone, too?" The question came out like a choke, a whimper.

Of course he didn't know yet. It was The Phoenix's fault, but Rogue knew she couldn't tell him now. The way he's taking it, it's safe to say he'd rather wallow in private misery for a while. Saying his fiancé killed the man they saw as their father, she wanted nothing more but to wrap her arms around him, comfort him and tell him things would be ok soon. But she didn't have that power. She wasn't the perfect picture of beauty and serenity that was Jean Grey. Also, an accidental skin-to-skin brush could render them both in the situation he was in right now, so she kept to herself and instead, empathized for him. "I'm sorry, again. I shouldn't have–"

"No. It's…" Scott shook his head, kept his face down. "I didn't… I…"

Rogue didn't look at him either, afraid to see the dampness forming on those bandages over his eyes. But she reached out, searched for his hand and gave it a squeeze. She couldn't help the hot tears that brimmed her own eyes as well. It was inevitable that when she blinked, they fell on her cheeks. And it felt hot at first, the salty blues, then left a cold trail down her cheeks.

It's been the first time she cried in a long time.

"But Professor Logan…"

"SIR," Logan said with emphasis, turning his back to the students. He insisted that they shouldn't call him 'Professor Logan' because it sounded all kinds of wrong. Sir was enough. That wasn't so hard, wasn't it? And, he roared, "There will be NO exceptions!" Once his nose got the scent of fright, he left the classroom like it was on fire.

Just in time, Ororo had only just stepped out from her class, and with the way she was looking at him, he could tell she knew that he wasn't having such a good day. To his surprise, the woman didn't reprimand him at all. She just gave him a nod and a lopsided smile. "Logan."

"Ro."

The weather witch accompanied him through the hallway, as if readying herself for a conversation, but she stopped walking and shook her head, as if changing her mind.

"Danger Room for me then," Logan said, more for himself than his company. He hated teens. He hated teaching. In short, teaching teenagers were killing him faster than charging towards Magneto on a bad day.

"Logan," Ororo's voice interrupted his mental rant.

Logan turns his head to face her. She's looking at him with sincere eyes, and her scent is oozing with gratitude and relief.

"I just want to thank you," she said. "Thank you for returning every morning."

Logan felt uncomfortable all of a sudden, and he felt the need to scratch the back of his neck. Run a hand through his crazy hair. He cleared his throat and checked if he wore his boots this morning. He doesn't know what to say, knowing that she knew about his nightly excursions. "Ah…"

"Have a pleasant day, Logan," Ororo said, saving him from whatever awkward hilarity that might ensue.

Giving the woman a nod, Logan resumes his long strides towards the Danger Room. These hallways he patrolled every night looked every much as a normal school by day, like nothing could ever go wrong. You would think that the incident with Stryker didn't happen at all, didn't traumatize the mansion's housemates for at least a month. Remembering the man made him snarl, but then again, he was extra grumpy lately, considering he only got at least two hours of sleep each day. Or less.

If only he didn't have to put up with these damn kids every morning. What kept him alive was the thought that these kids were Marie, and they looked up to him –even if most of them were terrified and nervous most of the time. If there was one thing about Marie though, it was that she was never afraid.

God, kid, what you do to me, he thought, rubbing a tired palm over his face. He smiles fondly at her memory. But as soon as the smile appeared, he frowns again when he knew how useless it was –searching for Marie whenever school was over. But there was something about it, even if he was just driving aimlessly, that he felt like he was closer to her, like she would be just waiting somewhere and he would offer her a ride.

Damn. Maybe he secretly loved being the hero.

"There's Professor Logan!" someone said from the other side of the hallway, but before that teenage person could catch up to him, he stealthily ducks by the corner and slithers like a panther eager to escape to the Danger Room.

Nah, he thought. Hero my ass.

Playing house, Marie? Wolverine asked, clearly not entertained by what she just told the landlord. He sounded almost jealous, but as always, Rogue liked to think he was only fond of her because he was living in her head.

You are endeared to me, but as a daughter, Erik was quick to intercept her doubts.

The Erik in her head was biased, simply because they have been living together for 6 years. She knew about him more than anyone else ever could, and when he realized that it was useless to fight her, he had settled himself in the back of her mind as a friend. It was comforting, too, having this almost father figure in her head. Her own father had beat her up, and Charles wasn't really hers exclusively. Erik was a good guy, especially to mutants, and his only flaw was when he became overpowered by his own passionate beliefs.

Erik adds, Clearly, there is just something innately wrong with this animal.

There's nothing wrong with me, bub, Wolverine snapped. I just call 'em what I see 'em. And she's mine–

On that note, Wolverine was a mystery to her though. Perhaps it was because she had almost killed Logan twice, that his human conscious had really 'died', and the only living life force she had absorbed was his feral side. But to her surprise, Wolverine was just like Logan, only possessive, called her 'darlin', treated her what he liked to call a 'mate'. But whenever his thoughts pushed towards that direction, Rogue always tuned him out, believing that she was probably manipulating his thoughts to accommodate her desires. She was hopeless, that was for sure. Crazy hopeless.

Yours? Erik mocked, The real Logan let her leave like she meant nothing–

Wolverine growled. That's because Logan is an idiot.

That he is, ruffian.

TIMEOUT! Rogue screamed in her head, effectively shushing the two. "God, all of us are hopeless." She finally reached room 6. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to enter the room.

Play nice, darlin', she hears Wolverine warn right after she closes the door behind her.

"I hope you don't mind being my Mr Marie Danielson for tonight?" Rogue asked, her voice clearly teasing as she found Scott lounging by the bed, his legs spread, crossed at the ankles, pillow behind his back. The television was loud, and one would think he was just relaxing after a long, normal day.

Scott gave her a smile, a real one this time. "I'll be anyone you want me to be if I can sleep in a warm bed tonight."

Rogue felt like blushing, but Wolverine in her head was growling. She realized that she wasn't used to playful banter with other people. Bobby had always been a sweet guy. He never pushed her buttons; always took it slow. "Um, so I was thinking..." Initially, all her senses were telling her that ever since Scott found out about what happened to the Professor, he was more than open to the idea of returning to Wetchester –even if Jean wasn't there. But for now, she had to play it safe. "I need to head out tonight for extra cash. Will you be alright here on your own?"

Scott fingers the remote control, but Rogue's already by the television, turning the volume down. She watched as his Adam's apple move as he swallowed. "Look, Rogue…"

"Will you be alright on your own, Scott?" she asked again, her tone serious, firmer this time around. He was either going to say he was being a burden to her, or worse, say something else. OK, maybe it wasn't Scott who wasn't ready. It was her. She quickly walked to the kitchenette and opened the fridge. She took some of the snacks she bought earlier and placed them on the end table beside him. "Just rest, alright? I want to buy you some new clothes tomorrow. So I just need to be sure that you're going to be here when I return, comfy and well-rested."

Rogue knew she was a terrible rambler, that when Scott opened his mouth to speak, he immediately shut it close and nodded instead.

Thank goodness, Rogue breathed. "I'll see you later then," she said with a cheerful tone even she knew was forced. Giving him another nod he couldn't really see, she says goodbye and leaves their little room.

It took her about five huge steps away from Room 6 before she collapsed on the floor until she bawled like a fucking little girl. She pressed her trembling hands against her mouth, trying to suppress her sobs. But it was too much, seeing him helpless –seeing him again, period. He reminded her mostly of Logan –the broken man having escaped from the lab, nowhere to go. Scott reminded her exactly how weak she was, physically and emotionally. He was too close to home, it seems. Rogue didn't know if she could handle it, be strong for both of them. She also had this vibe that Scott was giving up on life like she was.

To her surprise, a strong set of arms enveloped her, and she immediately jerked from the contact. "Shh, Marie," Scott hushed her in a voice so quiet, she couldn't even tell it was him. More tears fell on her cheeks when she realized he was actually channeling Logan. Sick woman she was, she leaned back against him, more than willing to play along. "You're going to be alright. We are going to be alright."

Marie shook her head as she cried softly, clutching his arms fiercely against her chest, glad that she had all her layers of clothing on. After a few minutes, she managed to put a lid on her emotions, and she drew away from him, just so she can put her hands on his shoulders. "Scott, listen to me. You have to go back. You know you do. Please say you'll go back to New York. Please. They need you to be there. You need to be there."

To her relief, Scott nodded. "I know," he admitted. "But not now, Rogue. Give me a… few days. You can leave me here, I can survive on my own–"

"No, no, I can sustain us," she said quickly. Wiping the trails of tears from her face, she helped him up and escorted him back to their room even though she knew he was capable on his own. Once he was settled, she pressed her gloved palm against his cheek. Feeling the need to show him her appreciation for letting her have a good cry, she bent down and pressed a kiss against his hair. "Thanks, Scott."

Scott grinned at her, his face undeniably brighter than it was when she first found him. "Who would have thought we'd be together like this, huh?"

That scrawny ass better watch it, Marie! Wolverine spurted all of a sudden.

Rogue could only laugh softly before bidding him goodbye.

"Are you sure you're up to this? Things can get pretty rough at night." Karl was a lanky man with graying hair that contradicted his youthful face. He wore black thick-rimmed glasses, skinny jeans and worn-out shirt and sneakers. He was obviously going for the hipster/starved artist look. He gave her a once over again and frowned. "I'm not going to pay you if you–"

"Just shut up and listen to me, OK?" Rogue said impatiently. Avoiding another useless appraisal of her looks, she darts to the front of the dim bar and picks up the dark blue Les Paul, plugged it in the amp, gave it an experimental strum and began a solo rift. Aiming to impress, she picks a favorite Racer X song, Viking Kong, knowing the audience wouldn't appreciate Amazing Grace at this hour. She bops her head in tune, lost in the music, reliving her pre-mutie days as the only girl in their small town rock band, Anna Marie. The Cody in her head would probably forgive her for rendering him in a coma –this was his favorite song too.

Never knew you played, darlin', Wolverine commented, clearly pleased, just like Karl who was probably drooling. But, unlike the owner of the bar, Wolverine was a little disappointed that she never told him. And that good too?

You never asked, Rogue thought noncommittally, and focused on her rift. After her piece, the only thing she could hear was the loud beating of her heart. She noticed that everybody was quiet, gaping at her like she was Hank in a pink tutu. Instead of blushing and fishing for praise, (ok, maybe she was blushing, but the dim lighting hid that fact well enough), she puts the guitar back down and stomps back to him. "So? Good enough, right?"

The owner nodded as if he was hypnotized.

"Now, as long as you pay me fair and don't let anybody lay a finger on me, I can play whatever song you want and sing too, if the vocalist dies. Gotta warn you in advance though, mister, I won't sing pop songs." Rogue kept her chin up high, like she was the one in charge.

To her surprise (and relief), Karl started laughing. "You got yourself a deal, Joan Jett."

Actually, she was more of a Jennifer Batten fan, but she'll give this man what he wants. Rogue knew this was much better than washing plates or waiting on tables. She didn't want to strip either. At least she can be on the stage, untouchable, without selling her sexuality to drunken, smelly men.

"Just make sure you show some skin, JJ," the man said before leaving her to talk to someone else .

Well, so much for that. At least she'd be doing something she knew she loved to do. Back at Xavier's, she never got around to playing, as all the instruments present there were for classical music. Also, the electric guitar made her feel connected to her roots, not that she wanted to return there though. But it was a nice change, feeling Mississippi in her heart in the middle of nowhere.

"I'll be needing at least three rounds tonight, people!" Karl announced loudly. "30-minute breaks or less in between sets. I need to hear music all the fucking time. Get ready! We'll be opening soon!"

Rogue padded to the front again and picked up the guitar. Taking her place by the side to the wall –the one away from people, she leans against the bar stool, and starts strumming. It took her a while to notice that the other band members were actually gussying up before the show.

"You can't be wearing the Goth look, babe," someone said from behind her. The drummer. He was referring to her gloves, her black long sleeves, black pants. Black everything. "You can make that guitar weep, but people need something to look at."

Did he just call you babe? Wolvering was quick to answer, Punch 'im out cold, darlin'. You don't need–

Actually, the musician has a point, dear, Erik countered.

Rogue growled at him nonetheless. Woops.

"Just sayin'," the drummer mumbled, throwing his hands up in defense.

Sighing because she knew Erik and the drummer had a point, Rogue stopped strumming and made her way to the ladies' room. She went to the furthest sink and tied her hair in a tight, high ponytail, letting her platinum locks loose by her cheeks. She eyed the mirror in front of her and wondered how else could she look better. Her eyes looked tired, the dark circles around them getting more evident the more she stared. Her lips were still plump, slightly chapped, but she looked pale and cold.

Pretty as fuck, I think, Wolverine smirks. Or should I say pretty to fu–

No one was asking for your opinion, pervert. Erik gives her a mental pat on the back. But you are always a beauty, never doubt that.

You guys aren't helping at all, Rogue thought. She bit her lips hard in an attempt to make them redder. Alive. She pinched her cheeks in an attempt to make them rosy. She was nervous. Shaking her head, she reminded herself, "No one can touch you. You can do this." She shut her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and unbuttoned her long-sleeved shirt. She slipped the garment off and then her camisole. She lets out a curse as she stares at her black-laced push-up bra. Sorry girls, she said, referring to the generous cleavage on show.

Rawr, Wolverine growled playfully. Me thinks–

He was then muffled somewhere in her mind, while Rogue was too busy putting the long-sleeved shirt back on sans cami, but this time, she left all the buttons open, baring her midriff. Then she heard a toilet flush from one of the cubicles behind her, and out stepped the mocha-skinned vocalist of the band.

The woman gives her a smile from the mirror as she washes her hands. "Heard you play. You're good." She then took something from her pocket and placed it on the sink as she gave Rogue a nod of encouragement. "Name's Koren. We'll be waiting for you out there, 'k?"

Rogue only managed to stare as Koren left, and rushed to the little black tube of lipstick waiting by the porcelain sink. She popped the cap, twisted it open and with a pout, she applied the crimson lipstick onto her lips.

"You look pretty good, chica." Marie could almost hear her friend Jubilee's voice from the other side of the room. It was only now that she wondered if she would have still left if Jubilee didn't leave for college. Knowing it was hopeless to ponder on yet another absent person in her life, Rogue slid the lipstick back in her pocket and gave herself two thumbs up. She grinned at her reflection. Sexy yet subtle. That'll do.

Now, on with the show.

Logan inwardly flinched when the singer crooned at the front. A waitress put another bottle of beer in front of him right after he downed the one he was drinking. He told himself to stay for a few more minutes before going back on the road. He lit another cigar, took a puff, and then a long drag. He closes his eyes for a second, his senses appeased; nothing out of the ordinary was happening so far.

When in the city, Logan did his thinking time in bars. The thick atmosphere was mainly clouded with smoke and alcohol –an amiable distraction from all those suffocating teenage hormones at the school. Here, the hushed whispers and poor music were nothing compared to the sudden screeches, squeals, whining, and a whole bunch of unexpected bull he put up with at the mansion.

Just to think, which was a good sign that he was still in control. If, however, major self-recollection was necessary, he would be so far up in nature's ass until he reemerged as Tarzan. Nowadays, though, he didn't feel lost, rather,lacking. The more he got used to routine at the mansion, the more he was starting to really, genuinely miss her.

Marie had been such a normal part of his life in the mansion for the past few years, and sometimes he wished that when he got back from his long drives, she'd drop him a hi or hello before he went back to his room. Because she always said goodnight to him before, no matter how late it was. She'll have a book in hand, but deep inside he knew she was just using reading as an excuse to wait for him. Sometimes it was her iPod. Sometimes she really was just there, waiting. She was always so sweet to him, Marie was.

Logan found it incredulous why he kept postponing the real, serious search for Marie. What was keeping him from doing so? For one, his sensible side was urging him to respect her decision. He didn't want to look like an outraged parent who wanted to ground her in the house because she ran away. It wasn't like she was a child. Kid.

But the Wolverine was forcing him out of this train of thought, claiming it was his responsibility to take care of her, whether she needed it or not. What if she was in real trouble then? What if she was already dead in a ditch somewhere? The thought of Marie lifeless made his blood run cold.

She's still alive and you know it. She just wants you to find her.

Logan felt antsy with the prospect of seeing her again, as if she would find out about a secret he was keeping. What the fuck.

Man up, bub.

You need to find her soon.

Need her now.

Need to see her.

Need.

Logan growled to himself, dissatisfied and perplexed at the same time. He was such a fuck up. An indecisive, horrendous, badass motherfucking fuck-up.

"But I'm in so deep, you know I'm such a fool for you…" the woman at the front sang. "You got me wrapped around your finger… Do you have to let linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger…"

"How fitting," Logan grunted quietly, feeling the exasperation consume him. His brows knit together when he remembered Marie humming this particular tune on those random days he was in her presence, singing softly when she thought he wasn't listening to her.

Oh, I thought the world of you,

I thought nothing could go wrong,

But I was wrong, I was wrong.

Now this is what he didn't like about Marie. She always had him thinking, always wondering. Like her scent, shealways let it linger. Like honeyed vanilla. And by god, he had always taken it for granted, just sniffing it like the animal he was, content to have her sweet scent in his room, the hallway, the kitchen, the library, and everywhere he saw her. Everywhere she had smiled at him, especially after she bade him goodnight or see you later. Never goodbye.

Logan took a big gulp of his beer. 

But you always really knew,

I just wanna be with you.

"Oh, fuck."

After their final set, Rogue felt like she was on fire in more ways than one. Her entire body ached –especially her arms, shoulders and her ass. Her trusty army boots didn't even manage to save her dying feet. But good god, she was elated. Her spirit was singing; her whole being was swirling with music like she was high. It probably had something to do with Cody, her sort-of mentor in music, that she made an easy transition from Rogue the Runaway to Rogue the BAMF Rocker. She felt like she could play for hours and hours. She was a little grateful that she was only wearing her bra because she was sweating like a pig –not to mention the rest of her sleeves were soaked to the core.

Intensely hot, darlin', Wolverine started, but was once again quickly muffled by someone in her brain.

You've got talent, child, Erik said. Which, after much contemplating, I deduced that you can utilize your musical abilities to unite mutants and serve as an example–

Oh for fuck's sake, bucket head!

"You were awesome, Joan Jett!" Koren praised her. "What rock have you been hiding under all these years?"

"Something like that," Rogue answered, and added in her head, A rock called the X-Mansion. For a second she thought that the vocalist was going to give her a hug, but she's quick to look busy by buttoning her shirt close, making it look like it was such a meticulous process.

"See you tomorrow night?"

Rogue just nodded, but flashed the woman a big smile and a wave goodbye. She then heads to where Karl waited by the bar. The green bills in his hand made her feel all giddy and excited. Ooh-la-la.

"Good job, JJ," Karl said once she was in arm's reach, and handed her salary. "Gave you a few bills in advance too. Some of the customers tipped you big."

"Wow," Rogue gasped. "Thank you. I know guitarists don't really get paid well…"

"Cut the drama, kid," he said quickly.

Rogue recoiled inside. Fucking kid. If it weren't for Karl's smirk, she would have probably smacked him on the face –without gloves. She noticed Wolverine was noticeably quiet. Where's your humor now, Wolverine? Kids don't have boobs like mine, that's for sure.

"Just get your cute ass back here tomorrow," Karl said, and before she turned away, he called her name again. "Someone asked to see you. Private booth near the restroom."

Something, someone, Rogue's senses tingled. She suddenly felt cold all over.

The owner obviously saw how terrified she was, that he laughed right at her face. "You're my prized guitarist, not a whore." He winked at her. "It's a woman, JJ, so don't get your panties in a twist." He gave her a rough yet playful shove on the shoulder before leaving.

Rogue exhaled loudly. Tucking the bills in her pocket, she knew she could finally buy Scott a new set of clothes, and food that will last them for a few days' worth. Coast is clear, she thought, looking left and right as if crossing the street as she made her way towards the private booth Karl told her about.

The maroon curtains were drawn close so she couldn't immediately spot who was waiting inside. She felt nervous, but even her Wolverine was keeping mum, probably still guilty about the 'kid' comment. Or maybe the guest waiting wasn't really hostile. Hostile? That's what you get for training for years with the X-men. Rolling her eyes at her self-made doubts, she made sure she was covered in all the right places before sliding inside the booth. "My boss said you…"

"Hello again, Rogue," the mystery woman greeted her.

Different face, hair, sure –but she knew that particular timbre of voice anywhere. She had Logan's dreams of killing this woman just for the pleasure of it, with Wolverine cheering in the background; swipe those motherfucking claws at her belly, don't just stab her for cryin' out loud!

Now Wolverine was growling angrily, Off with her head! Off with her motherfuckin'–

SHUT UP, Rogue warned loudly in thought. She tried her best to look relaxed and controlled, though her right hand reached for her other glove, ready for an emergency life-force vacuum session. "Mystique."

4am.

It's a record breaker, if you can call it that. Logan didn't know why, but he felt that it was a good idea to head back to the mansion earlier than usual today. As he parked the bike in the garage, he saw the hardly used black pickup truck on the far corner of the room. I could use that when I go up North, he thought positively. Hopeful. There's just somethin' about Canada. His thoughts drifted easily to platinum streak and pouty lips as he made his way to the front door. As he twisted his private key to open the lock, he grimaced when he realized that the door was already open.

"Huh," he wondered aloud as he stepped inside. Who the hell would leave the mansion unlocked at this ungodly hour? Already planning his verbal assault for the young residents later, his mild anger was interrupted by a vision of someone's hurried pounding by the stairs.

"LOGAN!" Ororo hissed in a harsh whisper as she ran down the stairs. She was always so graceful when she carried herself, but there was something different in her countenance this time –and it's not just because she looked like a half-crazed woman who was dragged out of bed in the wee hours of the morning. The woman was clearly dazed, and he couldn't decide if that was such a good thing or not.

Logan jumped when the headmistress latched on his arm and tugged him up the staircase. She pulled him through the hallway like he weighed nothing, but he was sure her anxiousness was getting to him as well. "RO! I'm notgoing to sleep with you!" he tried teasing, just to get some other type of reaction from her. He wasn't used to seeing her look so… cattish? A frown is already on his face when he realized that they stopped in front of a particular room. "Ro, are you–"

Her white head nodded quickly. She was hyperventilating a little. Her scent was suffocating him with a particular kind of fear, waves of confusion, surprise, and a tinge of sadness.

Logan shook his head in return, and suddenly, he got it. An intruder was inside the room. A different scent. He was already clenching his fists, readying for an attack. He shrugged off the weather witch's death-grip on him and burst through the doors.

And it surely wasn't the Hulk. Any other dreams of having an impromptu death match with a worthy opponent vanished instantly when he saw the man's big droopy eyes and wavy brown hair. The prim and proper attire of designer cardigan and casual slacks, as if he had just time-traveled from the 50s, didn't aggravate the situation either. Logan couldn't place a scent on him, and for some reason, the Wolverine told him NOT to attack… yet. But the claws slid out nonetheless. "What the hell are you doin' here, bub?"

The man merely smiled at him and Ororo, whom he regarded with an all too familiar nod. "Why, I didn't think I needed permission to be in my office, Logan."

The voice was different. Youthful. Logan's eyes widened like he just saw a ghost. That unmistakable calm, the subtle authority, the respectable tone, the self-assured wisdom… That do-goody charm Scooter learned down to an art. Only one person: "Charles?"

Welcome back, Logan.

"You've grown in all the right places, I see," Mystique verbalized what her eyes were doing to Rogue's chest and lips. Then she flashed the younger woman what seemed like her seductive come-on-to-me gaze.

Stab her with the salt or peppershaker, I don't care, Marie, Wolverine ordered. Just fuckin' get rid of her! You can start with her eyes–

My beautiful Tiger, Erik lamented. I detest it when she resorts to hiding her exquisite skin…

Call Logan, Marie. Or any of the X-Geeks, Wolverine snarled. They have to know she's here with you–

No, Rogue thought decidedly. It may have been just a few weeks, but the X-Men didn't look for her. And she didn't want them to. She knew she picked the perfect time to get lost, because they would be too occupied keeping the place together to spend it looking for a hopeless/dangerous woman. I am no longer an X-Man.

Erik snorts, clearly entertained. Wolverine growls in frustration. Rogue felt rebellious all of a sudden –because she's here, all out on her own, rocking on this god-forsaken bar, and she's talking with the enemy! Who's the new badass motherfucker in town, right? Rogue marveled. I should have done this years ago. She was brought out of her thoughts when Mystique laughed softy. "Huh?" she asked with a frown. Fuck. How mature was that. 'Huh?' I might as well have said I still play with Barbie. Biting the inside of her cheek for confidence-boosting reasons, she tried to get hold of the situation again. "If you just came here to say hi, well, I'm more than willing to say 'go fuck yourself and goodbye'–"

"Rumor has it you took the cure, but I had to make sure for myself," the true blue woman said, her plump lips doing that pout models were so fond of, because she honest-to-god looked like she just stepped out of a magazine. "But judging that you're still the walking glove lady, I can see that you're still, well... you."

"Now you insult me?" Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick.

"Oh no, honey. That's the last thing on my mind." Mystique shifted in her seat and fluttered her eyelashes at her. "For what I came here for, I'm actually rejoicing because of the fact that you didn't take or got shot with the cure."

Rogue noticed how she said the latter part of her sentence with much malice. She huffed indignantly. "I'm not going to join your Brotherhood."

That's my girl, Erik quipped, though Rogue didn't know to whom he was referring to.

"I'm no longer associated with them," Mystique drew sharply. Bitter, as if she had been betrayed. "Just like you're not chummies with the X-Men anymore."

Erik suddenly withdrew from her head like he got burnt. It was Wolverine's turn to laugh at the man. Rogue sighed then, remembering her 'family'. Or should I say, X-Family? Hah. "What did you come here for again?"

"I have a job proposal. But given our history, you can also consider this doing a favor for a friend."

"Do I look like I'm having it easy, Mystique?" Rogue hissed through clenched teeth. "Oh it's a fucking job, alright. I'm not going to do you fucking favors." To think she actually found it amusing, given their history. She let out a dire chuckle. "You sure are a mischievous bitch."

"Are you Logan-possessed?" the other woman beamed knowingly at her. "Because I'm starting to love the way you talk."

Is she flirting with me? Rogue felt sour and sick to her stomach.

At least give her a slap on the face, darlin', Wolverine begged. Just–

Mystique laughed again, shook her head as if having come to a conclusion. "Let's start over." She sat up straight and smiled nicely. "I'm Raven and I'm here because I need your, ah... services."

Services. Somehow, Rogue knew it wasn't her guitar-playing that she was after. "How much are we talking about?" she asked, and pushed Wolverine to the darkest recesses of her mind. She didn't need him stealing her thunder when it came to earning money; it wasn't like his violent suggestions were earning her millions in the bank. She didn't care that she sounded like she was willing to sell her soul for money, because it was actually far from the truth, but she wasn't going to let Mystique –Raven hire her for shits and giggles.

Mystique regarded her for a moment, and looked straight into her eyes. "Enough for me to give you a blank check when it's done."

A blank check?

"I'm not even lying to you," the former Brotherhood shapeshifter said calmly. "I'm this desperate simply because there's only one person who could do this: You."

Might as well listen to her offer, right? Rogue flinched when she felt her mental barriers rattle with the force of Wolverine's protests, ever the natural cage-fighter. Before Mystique could say anything else, she put her hand up to halt their conversation and stuck her head out of the booth. "A bottle of Cuervo here, please!"

When Rogue settled back in her seat, her future employer was clearly entertained. "Something tells me we're going to get along so well, honey."

I doubt it, Marie thought. But Rogue nodded, and poured the tequila on both their glasses when the order came. "By the way, you're paying."

Mystique raised her jigger in her direction. "No problem by me, honey."

"Stop calling me honey!" Rogue yelped as they clinked shot glasses, then drank together. Their pretty faces crumpled in front of each other, but they didn't mind, considering they didn't have an audience. She held back a laugh at that thought. She coughed a bit, but felt that thick, distinct tequila effect starting to do its little wonders in her system. Judging by how Mystique's face looked more relax, more feminine, she could tell that both of them were starting to lighten up.

"We're a lot alike, you and I…" Mystique (or should she say Raven from now on?) whispered as she stared at her glass.

"Stop it, you're not even drunk yet."

"Pull that stick out of your ass, would you, hon?"

"I said, stop calling me–"

"Yeah, yeah." Mystique flashed Rogue her pearly whites. "Honey."

Not in a million years did Rogue expect to be a guitarist in a shady bar somewhere in cold Canada in her early twenties, just as she didn't expect to be in a drinking session with someone who deceived and tried to kidnap/kill her years ago. That's life for her, she knew. Always the shit-end of the stick.

Rogue was slightly intoxicated, but for the record, she understood everything Raven told her. Apparently, the blue girl had a run-in with her ex and she wanted him off the grid permanently. Despite all the strong mutants the veteran ex-Brotherhood woman was acquainted with, it was Rogue whom she thought was capable enough to do the job. It made sense, actually; being Mystique must have garnered her more enemies than friends.

"Why did you want me to take Sabretooth down again?" Rogue asked quite coherently, though the side of her face was matted against the table napkins spread on the table. They've been here for more than an hour, drinking each other down, and still, Rogue found herself enraptured by Raven's perfect face. Pretty as hell, she noted again. If only I was that beautiful. Prettier than Jean. Damn she hated redheads.

Raven didn't roll her bright eyes and say how annoying she was. Instead, she sighed, leaned her chin against her knuckles, probably thinking how pathetic the younger woman was for being in such a sorry disposition. "Because you're the only one who can."

"Because?"

"He deserves to pay for killing our son, among other things," Raven said in one breath. She put a finger up. "And, you're the only one with the right mutation, the only one powerful enough to make sure he dies… and stays dead."

Yeah. Rogue got that part alright. "And what happens when I lose my mind if I use my… skin on him?" She was about to say 'powers' but she stopped herself. She couldn't use 'curse' now, could she? Why didn't she take the cure again? "It's not like I owe you anything."

"You're right. You don't." Raven had probably answered that question for at least three times tonight, but she just nodded again, accepted the younger woman's questions like they were old friends. Tipsy old friends. "But it's not about getting even, Rogue. It's about getting something you need. We're all going to benefit from this."

Shoulders sagging in drunken misery, Rogue moaned dramatically. She wanted to take another sip of whatever they were drinking, but if she took more –she might not make it back to Scott, who would probably optic blast her back to the mansion just so Logan can lecture her about right and wrong. Right, like Logan's moral compass always pointed north. Pushing thoughts of Logan to the back of her already muddled brain, she let out an unladylike groan. "Remind me why I benefit from this?"

Raven, however, could still handle her liquor, and took another gulp from her glass before answering her, "Let me rephrase this…" She was especially patient tonight, it seems, obviously working double time just to convince her. Placing her drink down on the table, she combed her dark locks with her fingers. "You want the Wolverine."

No, Rogue thought. She needed him –like aspirin and water, because she was going to have a fucking hangover when she wakes up later. Like fresh air, ice cream in summer, chocolate and ginger bread cookies. The way she needed a hug, a handshake. A kiss. And Reese's Peanut-Butter Cups. "And…?"

"Once you absorb Vic… Sabretooth, you would get his regenerative ability, and voila!" Raven said, her voice high with forced excitement. "You'll have something no other redhead can offer –a chance at immortality. With him."

Below the belt, ladies and gentlemen. "You didn't have to use Jean to convince me, Mystique," Rogue sniffed sadly. But could she blame her? She might or might not have blabbed about feeling insecure about that particular doctor an hour ago. But it felt weird saying her name. Doctor Grey made her feel jealous and resentful –it was hard to admit till now. Besides… "Logan doesn't even want… see me that way."

"That's the point, honey. He's not seeing you 'that way' because you're just a regular mutie to him!" Raven shook her head, waved her hands, as if trying to erase what she just said. "Give yourself some credit now, will you? You're not The Blob. You're sex on legs yourself."

Yeah, Wolverine told me that once. Problem is, it's the Wolverine in my head. Not the real Logan. Rogue bit her lip as her eyes stung with unshed tears for her silly unrequited love. Never the real Logan.

"Moreover, we wouldn't want Vic… Sabretooth's abilities to go to waste now, would we?"

"You could say his name around me, you know," Rogue whispered, making sure she was looking anywhere but the other mutant. "I don't mind. I love saying Logan's name." Saying 'Logan' in conversation made her feel safe, like they were close, together, secret lovers. Oh god, I'm pathetic.

Raven made a small sound that came across as half a whimper or a mocking laugh. "So back to our point," she said. "You take Victor down and you get his healing. Immortality will ease that fatal deadline in your gorgeous head and you'll get Wolverine down the line. I'm thinking that Victor's ego would help boost your confidence too. Logan has always been the self-doubter between the two, I wonder why I'm surprised you're such a party-pooper."

The long explanation could have better been summed as 'You'll finally be a candidate as Logan's mate, fina-fucking-ly.' Rogue felt ashamed of herself for revealing too much of her private information to Raven –of all people, and any hopes of rekindling with the X-Men felt further out of reach. The only way she could avenge herself was to stick her tongue out at Raven like the child she was. The shapeshifter only chuckled softly at her antics. "Will you… will you take care of me once I've absorbed Sabretooth?"

"More than you know," Raven assured her. "I have the perfect person for the job to help you sort your shit out." Her eyes focused on Rogue's gloves. "Please say yes."

"But maybe I don't want to live forever."

"Forever is synonymous with Logan in this world."

"Maybe I don't want Logan."

"You're not a very good liar."

"Yeah, he tells me that," Rogue sobbed. She pushed herself from the table and leaned back against the soft cushion behind her. The few tears she felt brim her eyes earlier slid down the sides of her cheeks, and she did not feel like wiping them away. "I can't. I don't even know why I'm here talking to you."

"You're talking to me now because you know a good offer when you see one." Raven smiled sadly. "As for me, you can tell I'm willing to do anything for you to give it a shot."

"Like putting up with me?"

"Yes, mostly," Raven said, amused. "Let's just say the recent events in my life got me thinking. He needs to be stopped, Rogue, not only because he did me wrong." She locked eyes with her now. "But also because he's eventually going to kill Wolverine."

Rogan knew about that because of Logan's memories in her head. Sabretooth was always out for his blood. "Why is he so mad at Logan anyway?"

"Does it matter, Rogue?" Raven asked. "Do you honestly want Logan to die in his hands? It's only a matter of time before he succeeds–"

"No one is allowed to harm him," she breathed. Images of Logan suffering, near death, hurt flashed before her eyes and it was at that moment that Rogue lost control. Her inner feral chose that moment to rear its furious head, making her sit up straighter, her hands on either side of the table, ready to pounce. Those bits and pieces accumulated from absorbing Wolverine twice made growling second nature to her. "Not you. Not Sabretooth. Not even your fucking precious Magneto–"

"Exactly!" Raven snapped. She wiped the sweat off her brow in relief when Rogue shrunk back on her seat. "So are you on board or what? This is the time for you to even the fields, Rogue. This time around, you'll save him –not only from Sabretooth, but from himself. I'm sure he'd rather have you chasing him than Victor for eternity."

The last line was already lost on Rogue. The mere idea of forever with Logan made her body shiver with desire. It was a powerful type of lust that blinded her. And she loved him so much, that it didn't take much for her to throw the 'Cons of Raven's Offer List' out the window. Because all she knew was Logan. Everything always was about him. And she wanted it that way. She was a masochist, but this was the sorrow that kept her hoping. She wanted to be with him. She did have those memories of his when he woke up without any traces of his past. He had been alone, wondered why he couldn't die –nothing could kill him, not even the heaviness of his heart. And there was this particular memory that she didn't know whether it was real or a sick fantasy –one where he tried using his own claws to stab himself, pulling against his organs, just to check if he was really alive. And there had been so much blood, so much pain…

"ROGUE!" Raven's voice interrupted the nightmare she had forced herself to remember. "It's your turn, you hear? Your turn."

Her turn to save him. Her turn to protect him. Her turn to love him. Her turn to be loved by him. My turn. Rogue blinked then, noticing that Raven's pale hands were clutching her gloved ones. And that was when she understood Mystique's angle.

This wasn't about revenge at all.

It was about love.

The woman wasn't just asking –she was begging. And Marie was all too familiar with this kind of pleading, because she did it every night when she said her prayers: please, please, God, let her be with Logan. Let him see her. Let him love her like a woman. My turn.

"My turn."

"This is freedom from whatever responsibility he bestowed upon himself years ago. Doing this will set you both free. You're finally allowed to love him, fair and square. You can say goodbye to those 'must be hero worship' taunts those people you call friends subject you to. Once he realizes you own him fucking nothing, that you'll fucking live forever, and you're no longer a fucking kid, that you're just this woman who wants his love and a whole lotta fucking, you'll have the man you've always wanted." Raven smirked. "Or should I say, the one you always needed?"

Rogue couldn't move where she sat, and after a minute of locking gazes with Raven, she slumped back down on the table, her cheek back in its position on the table. She tried to remember reason –she was an X-Man, wasn't she? But the smell of beer, smoke, Raven's expensive perfume, and Logan, her stupid, stupid love for Logan that always got in the way of sense… she knew she was Marie just as she was Rogue. And she could do this.

"What's the plan?"

"I honestly didn't want to believe him, that's why I needed you to meet him first." Ororo buried her face on her palms. "I know for a fact that you can smell a lie because of your feral…"

"He's not lyin', that's for sure," Logan said quietly. He grimaced. "I need a beer."

The man who claimed he was Charles Xavier was currently sleeping in the guest quarters. He had volunteered to stay there when he knew that the two people in charge of the mansion didn't outright believe him. It was almost 6am, and even if Logan felt mentally exhausted, and Ororo had those dark circles around her eyes, they wouldn't be able to sleep it off.

Logan glugged his beer like water, and with the alcohol dripping down his chin, he tilted his bottle towards his co-teacher. "Want one?"

It was Ororo's turn to scrunch her nose. "No, thank you…"

"I was going to get you a new bottle," Logan grunted and slammed the one he was holding a bit hard on the kitchen counter it startled the lady in the room, her eyes going full white for a second. "Sorry." He wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"I'm sorry. I actually don't know how I'm supposed to greet my class for today and tell them that Charles is alive!" Ororo exclaimed in a whisper. "In another body, at that!"

The woman has officially gone mental, Logan thought, watching his friend talking to herself, going through her 'schedule', trying to come up with different ways to tell the entire mansion that their beloved Professor was back. He genuinely felt sad for her. "Munroe," he said brashly, efficiently calling her attention. "Take a chill pill, would ya?"

Ororo's eyes widened at him, scaring him a little –what if she decided to let out her tension by striking him with lightning? But she nodded again. Apparently, he had become her voice of reason tonight when she was losing her nerve.

Change the topic. He remembered doing the same for Marie when she was panicking about something. Remind her of something she really loves. "Where is Kurt anyway?" he asked.

"I sent him on a pick-up mission just yesterday," she replied tiredly.

OK, that was as far as he went. Logan tried to think of something else, but his mind started reeling again. It wasn't because Charles was back in another body, but his presence that could change a lot of things. He chugged on his beer. "If you're having second thoughts, I have an idea."

"How?"

"If we're not getting any sleep, then neither will he," Logan said, and walked out of the kitchen, Ororo trailing behind him. They made their way to where the new Charles stayed and before he can open the door, the young man beat them to it. He looked like he was having a hard time trying to sleep as well. "We need more proof."

New Charles nodded in understanding. "I was looking forward to having one of your beers, Logan. I find myself having the peculiar craving for it." He took the lead. "It must be this man's body."

This is him, Logan and Ororo thought, sharing knowing looks, because they were on their way to Cerebro. They observed as the lithe man activated the device without a sweat, and Ororo's sigh of relief echoed throughout the room. Seeing him there, hooked on the machine, did something to her brain and made her believe. This was him.

"Good," Logan said. "Now, I want you to look for Rogue."

Ororo shot him a surprised look. "Logan, I don't think-"

"Do it, Charles." Logan held up an arm to stop Ororo from going anywhere near the machine. "Find Rogue. She's been gone for weeks." He didn't want to say she'd been gone for more than a month. He couldn't.

Charles remained fastened to the machine, eyes focused.

Logan watched as the lights blinked, flickered, moved. "Find her." The order came out as a growl.

"Logan, stop it!" Ororo exclaimed.

"No, Ro. I need to find her."

After a few minutes, Cerebro suddenly shut down, and as Charles took off the head piece, Logan was already beside him, his hands fisted on the soft collar of his shirt. "Where is she, bub?"

"That had been my intent the moment you woke me up –to find Rogue," Charles said, taking deep breaths. He looked exhausted. "But I…"

"You're lying. You're not Charles," Logan accused. "You can't find her. You're an impersonator, a fraud!"

"It's not that I couldn't find her, Logan," Charles said. "It's that I can't." When Logan growled, he shook his head. "She's managed to hide herself from me. She can block me." He sighed. "Like you, Logan, if she doesn't want to be found, I doubt even you can locate her."

"You have to try again."

"Stop this at once!" Ororo yelled at Logan, using her angry teacher voice, but Charles was quick to nod in agreement.

"I understand your concern, old friend. And for your sake, I will. But for now, I need to rest. This body is not used to operating Cerebro as my older one." He unlatched Logan's grip on his shirt and stumbled backwards, but Ororo was swift to catch him. Before assisting Charles out, she openly glared at him in disappointment.

Logan remained in the room for a while, clenched and unclenched his fists, trying not to lash out and wreck the place. He should have known better than to expect things to be easy for him, for New Charles to magically find Rogue in the first try. What now?

You wait, Logan, Charles' voice resounded in his head. I will do everything in my power to help you. Goodnight.

Groaning in defeat, Logan retreated back to his room with a scowl on his face, only one thought in his frustrated brain:

Soon, Marie. Soon.

When Rogue entered the motel room, she found Scott doing push-ups by the bed, wearing only his boxer briefs. He was sweating, all muscle and movement –you would think the bandage covering his eyes were part of his training. His hair stuck on his forehead, giving him this handsome wet look. "Thousand and two!" he ground against the floor and jumped on his feet. "Right after my workout." He cocked a grin at her direction. "Welcome back, Rogue."

Eyes up, Marie, Wolverine's voice resounded in her head.

"Hey," she said, suddenly feeling self-conscious that his abs were staring at her face. How the hell did he hide those under the rags he had been wearing? Thank goodness he couldn't see her get all red and fidgety. He wouldn't be able to see how much she changed in just a few weeks out of the mansion. She took off her coat and sat down on the bed. "How are you doing? Are you hungry?"

The past two days have been a haze for both of them. Since meeting with Raven a couple of nights ago, she had met her again tonight for specific instructions to start what Rogue liked to call 'Operation Immortalize'. Stupid, but she felt the need to make it feel like a serious job –because it was. She only saw Scott during the day as she was sleeping, and he busied himself with working out and LOTS of TV.

Scott revealed to her that he was never really fond of television –up until they started living in the motel. He had been watching and loving everything, from cartoons, reality TV, cooking shows, movies –all except the news. He said he would rather watch porn with her than sit through CNN, to which Rogue asked humoredly, "Is that a suggestion, Scott?" He only replied with a laugh and shoved her arm with his elbow.

Thinking of Raven again, Rogue felt her body grow cold with anticipation and fear. But a huge chunk of her emotion was mainly about excitement. She was twenty-three, but it felt like it was only now that she was about to turn legal or something.

"Are you going to seduce him first?"

"What?"

"I mean, you will seduce him first, right? Make him all vulnerable so then I can surprise him and absorb the life out of him."

Raven giggled like a schoolgirl. "Is that what Charles taught you, always resort to seduction when things get tough?" She shook her head then. "Your plan is impossible. He'll smell deceit a mile away."

Rogue watched Scott enter the bathroom. He left the door open as he washed his face. He turned away when he pushed his boxers down and got in the shower. Firm butt is firm. It occurred to her suddenly that he was probably throwing himself at her, prancing around half-naked, but she figured that maybe he forgot she was here in the first place. She had been mostly asleep whenever they were together. Few times they shared dinner, they laughed together like siblings or roommates.

Her Wolverine noticed her interest, and as usual, was more than vocal about it. Are you trying to distract yourself with Scooter just so you can ignore me, darlin'?

Maybe I don't mind seeing Scott in his birthday suit, she thought angrily. Either way, Rogue stood up and headed to the small cabinet and pulled out her bag. She had to get at least a few clothes to change into. She heard the shower stop, then the faucet again, and it didn't take long until Scott stepped out of the bathroom with the towel hanging treacherously low on his hips –not that she took a peek, his reflection was right there on the big mirror adjacent of the bed.

When Scott sat on there rather un-sexily, Rogue knew that this man was just comfortable having her around –that he trusted her with his life. He sat there, thighs apart, creating this poor zigzag of his towel in a sad attempt to cover his crotch. His eyes were shut tight, his freshly shaved jaw resting against his palm. He looked conflicted. "Where are you going this time, Rogue?"

"The only way to defeat something as powerful as Victor is to be more powerful than he is."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Yes and no," Raven answered. "I want you to meet a friend."

Rogue ignored his question. "I've asked the landlady to drop by everyday to give you food. Everything has been taken care of. You just have to open the door for her noontime."

Scott shook his head. "Rogue."

"I know you're able and you can find your way anywhere, but please do us both a favor and act like you need my help." This was it, Rogue thought. Leaving this room would validate your deal with Raven. No more turning back.

"How many days are we talking about here?"

"A few."

Scott's jaw clenched. She could see him put his hands on his knees, clenching hard, knuckles white. "I can just call them, you know. Call him."

"If you do that then this will be goodbye," she threatened fearlessly. "No problem by me, Summers." Which was half a lie, but she had to convince both of them that her mind was made up.

Scott let out a deep sigh. "A few days then."

Rogue zipped her bag close. This felt like packing in her room in the mansion again –with a one-man audience. Her bag on her shoulder, she walked to her fresh-from-the-shower friend and squatted in front of him. "Answer me. Do you think maybe… you'll be ready to return to them when I get back?"

"If you're with me, we'll see."

It was probably a pun or a double entendre, but he gave her what she recognized as his secret smile for her –a mix of familiarity, harmless flirting, and pure friendship. Rogue rewarded his sweetness with a kiss on top of his wet hair, glanced at him once last time, a soft "See you later, Scott," and shut the door behind her.

It was finally Saturday.

The past few days have been slightly chaotic in the X-Mansion. New Charles, as Logan liked to call him, had instigated to address the X-Men first regarding his identity. Like Ororo at first, they were hesitant to believe, but with Logan and another telepath's confirmation, they finally warmed up to the younger man. For further truth, New Charles was more than willing to communicate telepathically with those who were still unsure about the matter, and probably revealed to them secrets that they have only told the Professor. Then, the midget X-man who could phase through walls had squealed in delight, and said that they needed to celebrate his return, yada yada yada…

Logan stopped listening since then, but somehow, at the end of the day, the entire school was still buzzing about the Professor's return. More than half of the female population was having a hard time wrapping their head around the Professor's 'hot new bod', which was funny as hell and revolting at the same time.

Other than his classes, Logan occupied himself training in the Danger Room, burning off his impatience. The younger Charles, though mobile and starry-eyed, was still, in all actuality, a pansy. The man panted like a dog during his morning jogs, got all gassy when he ate meat, and liked to ask him for beer. His beer. As much as Logan wanted to drag him back to Cerebro, the man was an early sleeper, too. Scratch that –he was out cold after dinnertime, every fucking night. One would think a younger body would have strived harder to stay up, but the physical exhaustion, as New Charles explained, was new to him. There was even that one time Logan caught him sitting on his wheelchair.

"Nostalgia, really?" Logan asked in a mocking tone.

"Far from it," New Charles replied. "More of realizing that sitting all day conserves my energy for my astounding telepathic prowess. Now, all the walking, running…" He groaned and rubbed his temples. "Never thought this wheelchair was actually a blessing to me."

Now, Logan prowled outside the cafeteria waiting for New Charles. He was pacing back and forth, easily sending students the other way, brushing off any of their attempts to interview the Professor or tell him how they missed him, etc. Because he was done waiting, damn it. The moment that previously bald telepath was done with his chicken croissant sandwich, he would be dragging the man back to Cerebro.

"Logan, let's go," New Charles said from behind him all of a sudden.

They don't bother with pleasantries. They both knew it wasn't a good morning for Logan –hasn't been for so long. If only he could bark at Charles to walk faster.

"Forgive my lack of athletic skills, Logan."

Logan rolled his eyes. After only one step, he was suddenly struck by regret and sorrow. To think that Charles just came back from the dead, on walking legs nonetheless, and the man should really be just celebrating, laughing, reviving his long lost youth and having all sorts of naughty fun, but here he was, dragging him to do work for him. Had he forgotten that Charles was his friend?

"It is truly quite alright," Charles said, quite aware of his thoughts. When Logan growled, he smiled. "You were projecting rather loudly." The doors to Cerebro parted open and he quickly went to the center of the room. "Now, give me a few moments."

Logan sighed and waited when the machine activated. Just a little more. If he comes up with nothing, then it's final. I'm leaving. I have to find her soon. I'll get that damn truck and…

The lights suddenly went off. Charles was grasping for air again, but he looked more composed than the first time he tried. He choked on his saliva a bit before talking. "Logan…"

"Are you ok, Chuck?!" Logan leapt by the younger mutant's side and lifted him back on his feet. "Did you find her?!" he asked, hopeful. To his disappointment, the New Charles shook his head. For a second, he was tempted to drop him on the floor.

But Charles grabbed on his sleeve, staring up at him with concern in his eyes. "I found him… I… Scott…! He's alive!"

Scooter. Alive? Logan thought surprised, and inevitably dropped Charles on the floor. "Whoah, sorry."

"We have to get to him as soon as possible," Charles said, though frowning a little. "He's not alone though." He shot Logan a look. "I couldn't get a read on his friend, but his brainwaves are telling me he's with a girl. InCanada."

Logan's eyes widened. This was it, he knew. "Marie."

The convention was swarming with people left and right. However, her target stood out among the humans. Carol Danvers was definitely homo superior, because she was a fucking knockout, probably one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Busty, blonde, and blue-eyed. You wouldn't think she was a mutant. Despite her stunning physical appearance, Rogue felt a different kind of power oozing from Danvers. Without looking at her partner-in-crime/boss/frenemy, she asked, "If she's your friend, why do I have to creep on her?"

"Is that a stupid question?" The tick in her jaw and the glare in her usually flirty gaze meant that tonight, Raven wasn't playing around. She was Mystique. It also occurred to Rogue that Raven had been wearing the same physique since meeting at the bar. She put two and two together, but she couldn't somehow believe that Mystique was 'cured'. "Of course she's not a volunteer. Besides, she wouldn't know what hit her when you're already sucking the life outta her."

On the other hand, that bitchy tone… Nah. This was Mystique, alright. "Don't say it like that. I'm not a killer."

Mystique snorted at her. "You can't back out now, Rogue. Just do it, OK?" She shrugged. "Besides, you wouldn't be holding forever. Take only what you need for Victor tonight. It's all going to be so quick, you'll forget by tomorrow."

She was probably lying, but Rogue was unable to move from her spot. More expectedly than not, none of it abruptly made any kind of sense. What the fuck was she doing here? Had she truly gone out of her mind?

"Rogue. Honey," Raven's voice returned, encouraging and comforting. She was holding Rogue's hand again, squeezing the glove. "You can do this. Do it for him." Then she leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Or are you going to let this chance pass you by… kid?"

Fucking kid.

When Rogue saw Carol leave her trail of men and women admirers, she knew it was now or never. She pushed Mystique away and made a beeline to the ladies' room. Blondie was probably reapplying white eyeliner or something. Rogue doesn't think of what she's supposed to do. Any sign of apprehension will alert Carol of danger. Raven warned her that this mutant had more than the average 5 senses. So Rogue had to be as effortless as she can be –even if she was wearing a black wig to hide her trademark hair. Don't plan it. Don't worry about it. You just have to keep cool and then touch her. Your weapon is your skin –how natural can you get?

Rogue slid in one of the cubicles, even took a pee. After a while, she heard the water running by the sink. Rogue emerged from her stall and washed her hands. Blue met brown in the mirror. She even had the decency to acknowledge her with a polite smile, like 'hey, it's a nice day today, isn't it?' Then it happened so fast, for months Rogue will be astounded she pulled it off.

The moment her bare hands caught Carol's arm, Rogue recoiled, her eyebrows disappearing at the thick bangs of her make-do wig. This mutant was definitely a strong one –her powers surged through Rogue like unstoppable electricity. The impact was too much, that Rogue herself had to wrench her fingers free from Carol's smooth, freckle-free skin.

Unlike the others she had absorbed, however, Carol was still standing, though obviously paler. And unlike Magneto or Logan, she did not really know who Rogue was, or what she can do. She caught the brunette by surprise and clamped her own hands on Rogue's bare neck. "What did you do, little girl?!"

"LET GO!" Rogue shouted fiercely, and she wondered if people outside heard her. But no one came. She yelled again, but the next time she tried shouting, her voice had left her. Carol's confusion burnt her from head to toe like wildfire –it turned out that Ms Marvel did not realize her powers were being sucked out of her body, so she did what instinct told her to do: hold on to the offender, that as much as she wanted to stop to find out what was happening exactly, to find reason to explain the pain, the weaker she felt. "LET GO, LET GO, LET GOOOOO!"

Now, the memories were beginning to download in Rogue's system. Carols' first everything; first candy, boyfriend, present, the first time she lost her best friend. The first time she felt she wasn't normal. She used to be a little girl too. Endless sky and adventures from outer space. It was a phenomenal set of memories, a huge contrast to Erik and Logan's dark past. This woman actually loved her life. Everything –it was almost so perfect. Then shehappened. The pretty girl with the wig, that innocent smile and BLAM! It's the first time she felt physically weak, like someone had turned her knees into jelly.

The transfer was quick and powerful, and what felt like forever was only just happening for roughly a few minutes, that Carol was condensed into a weakling, like a child punching the air. The super strength that should have saved her, should have killed Rogue was hanging by a short thread, and it was then that Rogue finally had the strength to shout forcefully, "Get… OFF ME! MY SKIN!" But the invulnerability had already started to take effect.

Recognition etched on Carol's face –defeat and wonder in a delirious mix. Dumb blonde. No, Rogue corrected herself. Just unlucky. Ms Marvel's brilliance was superb, but like many others, she had underestimated the element of surprise. Surprise? More like underestimated the seemingly harmless 'pretty girl' with the fatal touch. And it was her skin that saved her, made this possible. Her skin that did this mind rape. This. Carol immediately pulled away, as if Rogue had a disease she couldn't put a finger on, but to their surprise, Mystique appears behind the weakened superhero, hands equipped with gloves, and shoved the frail woman back against Rogue's person.

"NOOOOOOO!" screamed the two women with all their might.

Everything went hazy.

Then pitch black for the blonde, a blur of colors for the brunette.

Before passing out, Rogue heard Raven's haunting whisper in her ear, "My gift to you, Rogue…" Then she felt a light kiss on the top of her hair. "May you live forever."

A hurricane.

She felt so full and yet so empty. Puffed from the inside out, going round and round in what felt like a black hole that went into what she could only describe was a pit of despair. The voices, the faces, and all the horrid memories collided in one swirling current. She feels like throwing up, giving up. She felt like dying. She probably was. This was it. She was going to die. Or worse, she was losing her mind.

I'll find you, Marie.

All kinds of emotions burst from her when she heard his voice: wrath, anxiety, love, unease, hope, regret, deceit, sorry, sorry… She knows that his promises were true, and yet, they weren't. Wasn't really him. It was just her.

Just…

Why was she –what was happening?

The vibrations surrounding her ears wouldn't go away. It was like having the wind blow endlessly on her ear. Whirring. Why had she been so stupid? Why did she think that she could…

Separate yourself from the tempest.

The voice was different from all those that she knew by heart. Panic coursed through her, but the more she felt, the more she lost control. It was like falling over a cliff over and over again –a cliff of indescribable torment. Then it came again, that detached entity that was trying to communicate with her. A part of her wanted to kick it out, terminate it from her thoughts, but it was almost comforting, to have this non-invasive voice in her head that actually wanted to help her out. Besides, she had no power to fight it anyway. How could she, when there were all these hands dragging her down, eager to tear her to shreds, consume every part of her till she was gone? They wanted to own her. Blue. Gray. Black. Blue. Red. Gray. Green. Fire. Metal. Adamantium. Hazel.

Separate yourself from the tempest, Rogue.

How?

There is quiet in the eye of the tornado. Go to it. You have the power to do it.

She cried helplessly because she couldn't even move. She was stuck in the cyclone.

Will it ever end?

She didn't think she could…

Listen to her, darlin'. At least this time, Marie. She's tryin' to help you.

I wanted it to be you, Logan. I wanted it to be you who could help me. I wanted it to be only you. She waited for him to answer, to quell her fears, but there was no reply. Maybe it's better if I…

A strong shove broke her from the chains of her mind, but she limped, fell on her knees. She was dangling. Everything ached. Why were they doing this to her? Was it so wrong, what she did? But she tried to stop, tried to let go. She was so miserable, so sorry.

The eye of the tornado, Rogue. Look for it. Go to it. Separate yourself from the tempest.

Was this what mutilation felt like? It felt like she had phantom limbs everywhere, that every time she reached forward and took another step, those extremities were cut, pulled, torn from her. She felt like weeping tears of blood; the pain was indescribable, pure torture. But every time she felt like stopping, giving up, the shove happened again, more persistent than the last.

Leave me alone!

I can't.

If she could see him, she would glare at him. But all she could see was his life force in her head. Why did it have to be you, Logan?

Tears. Strings cut. Exhaustion.

Look up. Look around you.

She blinked and took her a while to notice that she was alone. Alone. When she lifted her gaze, the chaos that was everything and everyone was there, in front of her. How many days had she suffered because of them? The nightmares, the voices, the paranoia, the weakness, and the fear… The longer she gazed, the more their obscured faces pressed towards her that she nearly screamed, horrified. But the cyclone itself served a barrier too strong for those forces to break free. They were trapped in an endless dance in her mind.

Was it wrong to say that she hated them as much as she loved them?

Alone.

Logan?

Wake up, Rogue.

Why did you leave me, Logan? Why did you let me go?

Quiet.

Awaken, Rogue.

Maybe it was better this way. This was reality, wasn't it?

Awaken, Rogue!

So she did.

Rogue bolted up the bed as if doused with a bucket of cold water. Her chest heaved, her breathing clearly strangled. She felt like she had just woken up from a long sleep, like going through an out-of-body experience. Erik and Wolverine's prominent voices were no longer there, drowned out by a whir of white noise in the back of her head. It bothered her for a while, that strange buzz that wouldn't go away, and she was tempted to smash her head against the wall but she noticed a forest-green electric guitar shimmering from across the room.

Like a child she was drawn to it, like it was the only beautiful thing that existed in her world. Sights set on the smooth guitar, she extended her arms towards it. Unknown to her she glides to the instrument without touching the floor. She tugged her gloves off and started to strum. The music filled her head, and just like that, it completely dulled the hum of turmoil in her brain. "Hmm…" There was no song, no direction, but the notes drifted up the air in sweet harmony.

Peace.

The music was disrupted when the door opened, startling Rogue, that she flew to the other side of the room, the guitar suddenly forgotten. She was trembling as she tried to recognize the intruder in the room. Dark hair, like a raven's.

Raven.

Memories wrecked her –what about the kill last night? Sabretooth! Did she just kill a woman before that, too? She rambled to herself, trying to remind her who and where she was, clutching and pulling on her hair.

Carol.

In a flash, Rogue had Raven by the neck, strong enough to cut her breath, weak enough to keep her alive. "YOU! What did you do to me?! YOU LIED TO ME!" Even though she was livid, the anger felt misplaced, but she was doing it for something –justice or goodwill, because the peculiar peace in her head was actually a pleasant thing. No ominous voices, no disturbing thoughts, except for that minimal thrum…

"We had to do it, Rogue," a familiar throaty voice said from the door, answering what Mystique was probably trying to gurgle from her choking hold. The woman dressed in all white reminded her of Carol, but with bigger breasts and blue eyes that were thrilling and dangerous. "Emma Frost. Most powerful telepath in the universe." She stretched a hand towards Rogue, not to shake her hand, but to hold the arm trying to kill the helpless brunette.

"But Carol…" Rogue whimpered, and relinquished her hold on Mystique. She slid down the floor and covered her face with her hands. "I… I killed her."

"The woman is in a coma. She's still alive, sorta," Mystique coughed out, massaging her throat. She glowered at Rogue, but she knew better. "She was an alien –about to become a major problem if she continued to live. You actually did the world a favor."

Emma echoed the sentiment with a patronizing smile on her face, "You're our hero."

They were just buttering her up. Carol's memories had no malicious intent whatsoever. But what can she do now that the deed was done, cry like a baby? But her heart ached with pain and guilt. "I don't want to be a hero," she bit out harshly, and pounded her fists hard against the floor. The three of them stared at the two fist-sized craters on the carpeted floor. Rogue chuckled sadly, eyeing her fists. "Sabretooth wasn't even there last night, was he? You purposely wanted me to drain Carol. You wanted me to kill her."

Emma crouched down to look at the newly-powered mutant. "Tonight was a test, Rogue. Sabretooth is not like your Logan. He is rabid and more feral than man. We had to find out if you could manage to overcome you're psyche's… pandemonium." The blonde was brave enough to tuck the white streaks behind Rogue's ear. To Emma's credit, the grief-stricken Rogue did not consider her antagonistic, recognizing her voice as the one who tried to get her through the scuffle in her head. "If you failed last night, we wouldn't be talking to you right now."

"What if you failed?" Rogue yelled, the tears falling on her cheeks.

"But you didn't," Emma prompted calmly, bravely combing her hair with her fingers. "Raven was right. You are a powerful mutant –more powerful than anyone has given you credit for."

Raven. Rogue gasped and glanced at Mystique, who looked like she was still trying to breathe properly. "Did I hurt you? I touched…" But there were no new memories, no tingle of the shape-shifting mutation...

"No, no," Mystique assured them. "I'm hurt because you smothered me, you bitch." There was no resentment in her voice though, if anything, a little amused.

"But how!?"

"Too much stress can make any person snap," Emma said with a shrug. "In your case, it was a good kind of snap." She proceeded to clap her hands in delight –genuinely, Rogue noted, as if they have been friends all these years. "I didn't even have to probe your mind. All I had to do was persuade you to come back to us." Rogue could only watch as the telepath cupped her cheeks and grinned proudly at her. "We didn't expect this but you have achieved control over your mutation. Congratulations!"

Rogue sulked, deep in thought. She turned her eyes to look at Raven. "Do you still want me to kill Sabretooth?"

Raven took a full minute before she replied. "Yes."

"Why are you helping her?" Rogue asked Emma now.

"What can I say?" Emma smirked, but the sadness was evident in her pretty face. "I love him too."

Only an hour later, Rogue assisted Mystique in packing their things. She did not ask how long she was unconscious or delirious, afraid of their answer. Emma asked her many times if she was up to it because if she needed rest, she would tell Mystique that they can postpone the main event. But she declined, replied that they should be taking advantage of her willingness. Might as well finish what she started. Where her resolve came from, she didn't want to know, but right now, she was a woman for hire, not a little indecisive runaway.

The three women exited the dingy motel and walked to the parking lot where Mystique's black Chevy Impala was parked. Remarkably enough, Rogue felt that she was not nervous, but eager. Her skin. Her new powers. It made her feel so… omnipotent. And it made her want to challenge Sabretooth. Sweet control; it made her feel so self-assured, and though she wasn't sure till when it would last, she didn't care. It came with a price, of course, but her regrets were waning by the second.

On and off. On and off.

The switch was in her head, under her palms, everywhere. Was it there all along? Why didn't she figure this out before? Why didn't the Professor? For a moment she waited for Erik and Wolverine to comment on that, but neither spoke. She couldn't wait to touch other people –at least not Emma or Raven, but more than anything, her hands itched for the guitar.

"I'm taking my leave now, ladies," Emma announced behind them, bringing Rogue out of her musings. "I'll need to get far away from here." Even in the dim streetlight above them, her eyes shone bright with unshed tears. "I'll need to get so drunk, or get high."

Just as Rogue was about to thank her, her jaw dropped when Emma stepped in front of Raven, trapped her face with her palms, and gave her an open-mouth kiss. It did not turn out to be a lesbo kissing fest because Mystique remained unresponsive, and only gave her own lips a lick when Emma drew back.

"You always won," the White Queen said in a hushed tone, a flicker of weakness clouding her countenance. When she flipped her blonde hair over her bare shoulder, Rogue saw her don what was probably her usual cold, crystal façade. It was wordlessly saying that playing nice was over, but Emma flashed Rogue a pleased, intrigued smile. "Call me whenever you need my help, Rogue."

"Thanks, I guess…" Rogue trailed off, watching the scantily-clad Emma hop on her convertible beside the Impala. The tires screeched noisily against the dirt road and off she went, far away into the night. Her eyes were still on the smoke of dust in the distance when she asked her partner, "Do you really want me to do this?"

Raven did not answer her, but she had a feeling that the answer would never be anything but yes.

When Logan found out that Rogue was indeed in Canada, he abruptly left Charles alone in Cerebro and dashed to the Blackbird hangar. He could feel the telepath trying to communicate with him, telling him that he did not need to –well, he pushed the man out of his brain and just as he set sight to the plane, he almost fell over his knees, but thankfully, his quick reflexes forced him to stop. He growled as he saw and felt the hardening blocks of ice on his feet, cementing him to the floor.

"I'd rather have her in Mars than have her here, looking at you with puppy dog eyes." Bobby Drake's voice had become deeper the past few years, but Logan knew dipshit when he smelled one. Stupid kid.

"Givin' you ten seconds, Iceprick. Leave or I carve snowflakes–"

"You're only going to hurt her," Bobby gritted. "We both know you would never really–" He yelped in surprise when the claws came out and tore through the ice, but just before Logan could make a cold corpse out him, a strong gust of wind sends the feral to the other side of the room, leaving a rather obvious dent on the wall. He breathed a sigh of relief, but Logan could hear the loud beating of his heart.

"Bobby," Ororo called his name, her face serious, eyes white. "Please leave."

"Ro, I don't think he's…"

"Bobby, don't make me ask you again."

The Iceman looked furious still, but he nodded and took a step back. He turned to Logan before leaving. "Don't break her heart, Logan."

"Fuck off, cheating bastard," Logan growled, making the younger man wince and exit the room quickly. He dusted himself off and glared at the white-haired mutant. "You can't stop me, Ororo."

"Who says I am?" Ororo asked, her eyebrow raised. "Be sensible. We are also going to pick up Scott. And, you don't know how to fly her," pointing her thumb at the plane.

Logan's ears turned visibly red.

"Consider this your training my ass!" Rogue snarled in sheer anger as she dodged one of Sabretooth's blows. She was bruised here and there, but she knew that if she didn't have Carol's powers, she would have gladly avoided this deathtrap. He would have certainly killed her the moment she entered his territory.

Mystique had dropped her off by force in this random, remote patch of trees somewhere and told her to hunt for Sabretooth herself. He was extra feral by night, and said that indeed, this was considered her 'first training' as the new, much-improved Rogue.

They managed to make a clearing in the woods, the trees overturned by the roots, bark, stones and bushes everywhere. It was an epic kind of mess and she was pound and beat up, but her blood was singing. They were trying to punch the life out of each other, but they both knew that the smaller adversary was winning. Though Sabretooth was truly outraged, completely savage -her invulnerability, flight, and super strength were truly a guaranteed cheat. Even if he was a fast healer, the measly seconds necessary for the restorative abilities to kick in was costing him.

When Rogue realized that their fight was becoming too mundane and predictable for her liking, she decided to resort to the original plan. Also, she wanted to stop eating weed and soil, thanks to his merciless head slamming. "I'll try to make this quick for you," she said, ripping her top apart. The strap of her bra hung loose on her shoulder, she knew it was time to switch her skin on. "Come to mommy, Garfield."

Howling loudly, the feral dove towards her.

This was it, she thought, feeling everything go into slow motion. Fangs and claws bared, ready to bite and kill, he looked so much like an animal, she could only wonder what kind of man he had been. This man was Raven's lover once. Hell, he had even managed to forget who she was. Because why would he fight her for no reason, right? Not wasting any time, she welcomed his attack with open arms, that he fazed a bit, as if hesitating. He slams right on top of her, their sweat-drenched skins glued easily together. He snarled, clawed at her, but he couldn't seem to push her off of him.

Victor Creed's memories slipped through her like hot, thick silver. It was burning as it was delicious. His strength was admirable –it filled her veins with a different kind of resonance, almost similar to Logan's, only more powerful and raw. She mimicked his growl to the point that it made her throat itch.

Livid, wanting.

And it seemed that the intensity of the transfer was twisting into something oddly erotic. The vision of her tearing her clothes off stirred carnal desires within her. It was imminent that they had began dry humping each other on the grass. The only intercourse happening, however, was the drawing of his life force into hers.

And she loved it, the way she felt her whole body writhe with desire and she knew it was there –his healing mutation, intertwining with her own, tickling, fluttering, stitching her body into perfection. His hidden passions were as potent as his thrusts. Purely animalistic. The pleasure exploded around them even though they were just rubbing against each other, though the other was dying. He whimpered then, like a dog kicked in the ribs. She felt him nuzzle the crook of her neck, took a long whiff of her scent, and collapsed on top of her like an empty shell.

What a way to go.

When Rogue returned at least a few hours later, which felt like a stretch of eternity to Raven, she was half-naked, torn, her hair in thick, crazy waves about her face and arms. She was bloodied and breathing hard. She kicked the door of their motel room lightly, but sent it flying inside the room.

Mystique wept openly, and sobbed out loud when she noticed how different the younger mutant looked. Her instincts told her to flee, but she remained by the bed as Rogue tackled her down the floor and squeezed her neck once again.

"You filthy whore!" she roared in a voice too deep to be hers, and delivered a crunchy backhanded slap on the woman's face. The woman bruised easily, her nose sputtered with blood, her lips split open. "You filthy, filthy bitch!" She slammed Raven's head back to the hard cement. She was about to repeat the action when the abused woman moaned in pain.

"Victor…"

Rogue wailed like an animal and raised her prolonged claws up in the air and slashed her hands down at Raven who was watching her with pain-filled eyes. The claws, however, don't make it on her face, instead, left a scratch mark right beside the woman's ear.

In her mind, Rogue watched as Victor Creed took control, leaned down in front of Mystique's face to look at her in the yes one last time and muttered, "Thank… you…"

Darkness.

Separate yourself from the tempest.

Separate yourself from the tempest.

Separate yourself.

This time around, it was no longer Emma's voice that reverberated in her head, but her own. And just like that, Rogue's eyes flashed open wide. Dark red vintage wallpaper painfully greeted her vision. Sitting on the bed, she noticed how her body felt perfectly fine, but a little heavy all over. Her mind was another story because of its mini hangover. She felt like her brain took a spin around the globe, upside down. The subtle buzz was there yet again; she'd have to play the guitar soon.

Instead of worrying, Rogue took a deep breath, but the moment fresh air filled her lungs, Sabretooth's dying thought echoed in her head:

What a way to go.

Flashbacks of grinding sexually against the maddened feral and finding pleasure in it, made Rogue retch by the side of the bed, but nothing came out. Sabretooth's grimy sanctuary could probably keep the secret that it was partly the feral's lust that had sparked her own, but deep inside she was well-aware of the fact that she had relished the heat of the moment, taken it too far. It was a given that their mixed carnality was overpowering. The sick part was that during that encounter, she lost herself with the thought that with Logan it would have felt better, but she enjoyed it nonetheless.

Logan. Her heart instantly constricted with pain.

How could she even fathom to think of Logan now? Did it make any sense that she felt like she had been unfaithful to Logan? Bobby had given her the same emotions when she accidentally touched him, and she found out he had cheated on her with Kitty –or was it the other way around? That even felt so shallow compared to this.

Cheated.

It left such a bitter taste in her mouth; it was how she felt whenever Logan flirted with Jean. His one-night-stands. She felt cheated every time, though she had no right.

Or was she feeling this way because she put down two powerful mutants consecutively and lived through it, scot-free?

She felt horrible and she deserved it.

"You were wonderful."

Raven.

Rogue's gaze slowly flickered towards the mutant. Calculating. She wished that she could find reason in that conniving face. The treachery/test that was Carol. Control over her mutation. Becoming the Slasher's killer. Meeting her at the bar, drinking like they were girlfriends. Everything was actually so transparent to Rogue, but she had to hear it from the woman herself. For confirmation. Remind her that it wasn't as distorted or as deceitful as she thought it was.

Justify this for me, Raven.

"He asked me decades ago," Mystique said casually, granting her wish. Her swollen face blanched as she pressed the icepack against her face. She appeared ready to collapse and blackout, but the woman was born a femme fatale. Her bruised lips were crooked with a tired, regretful smile. "Took me this long to come around to it. I'm a terrible ex-girlfriend, what can I say?"

Absorbing Sabretooth was the exact opposite of what transpired with Carol Danvers. One, he put a really good fight, and most of all, he wanted it to happen. She caught him without warning, he went down swinging till his last breath, but he desired death all along. In truth, Sabretooth forgot about telling Mystique about it years ago, but the few remnants of Victor Creed had kept the promise in a tight box in the back of his mind and held on to it like a lifeline. It had happened in one of those post-romps with the blue-skinned mutant, that he opened up to her in an emotional level that even Mystique thought was astounding. Rogue could even remember Mystique's scent of surprise that night. And he had asked her to find a way to end his immortality, especially if he had gone too far being feral.

"It had to be me, huh...?"

"No one else could have done it. I could have asked Wolverine down the line, but other than our obvious unresolved sexual tension," she paused to smirk at her, just to see her reaction, but Rogue's face remained blank. "It would have been disrespectful to who Victor was, and if anything, he loved Jimmy more than he loved himself."

"Logan doesn't know..."

"Who could blame him? Victor had a peculiar way of showing it anyway." When Rogue stil didn't move an inch from the bed, Raven understood that the younger mutant was processing everything, coping. Taking Rogue's bag from the floor, she deposited it on her lap. "Get dressed. You've got someone waiting for you."

Scott, Rogue thought instantly, but found herself just staring at her hands. Sabretooth's claws had retracted through the night, but she couldn't help but notice the long locks of dark and white chocolate hair that felt like a soft, warm coat over her arms. She hasn't seen her reflection yet, but something tells her that she wouldn't be able to deny going through something life-changing these days.

"Give me a call if you want to work together –or hook up," Mystique joked, though they knew she was actually serious, at least about the former offer. She sat on the bedside near Rogue's hip. "Time will come that you might want to kill me for using you and I wouldn't mind. But you have to give me time to grieve." She tapped the bag between Rogue's arms. "I gave you a disposable phone. You can contact me anytime. Emma's number is in there too. I strongly suggest that you keep it, especially if you need to work with mutants on the same par as you are."

"You sound just like Erik," Rogue murmured. Erik. His voice was no longer in her head. "But I'm not going back to them, if that's what you're implying. I'll just accompany Scott back to the school and go my way." Saying that didn't sound as pathetic as it would have a week ago. She sounded like a grownup, an adult. A woman.

"They'll take you back," the other woman said. "Especially now."

"Probably." Rogue missed the last part of Mystique's reply. "But it's not right."

A pregnant silence filled the air, and once again, Raven was brave enough to ask her, "Say… do you want to come with me?"

Rogue let her gaze linger on the older woman. A part of her wanted to say yes, just because she can, but she shook her head. "I might snap at you and kill you accidentally," she admitted honestly, though she tried to smile. As much as it felt weird to admit it, she considered the mutant one of the few people who really knew her inside out –and even that was an understatement. "Go… before I change my mind."

"Can't blame a woman for trying," Raven laughed softly. Tugging on one of Rogue's white locks, she said, "Go get him, Tiger."

Rogue felt sadness swell in her chest. She hadn't even had time to think of Logan just yet. It was too much. She knew too much. And now, as she watched Raven walk to the door, it tore another kind of pain through her chest. After everything, she knew she wouldn't be able to look at Mystique the same way again. But she would always be stunning, blue skin, beat up or not. Those amber orbs of hers would always sparkle mischief and danger, but Rogue wouldn't be able to forget that when they were together, she had been exposed and emotional. Weak for love. "Raven..."

"I rarely say this, Rogue: Thank you." The door swung open. "You can keep the guitar."

When Rogue heard the Impala's engine thrum to life, the tires crunching against the graveled parking lot, and disappeared further away from her, she finally slid off the bed.

It was time to go back to Scott.

Rogue left her new guitar (whom she affectionately named 'Rage') in her boss Karl's care. After openly ogling her, he gave her his assurance that he will make sure to keep her baby safe. She didn't want to go back to her motel with the guitar, figuring that she would probably play it in the bar when she got back to work anyway.

When Rogue stepped back out in the cold, she felt a bit ecstatic with the thought that she did not need to hitchhike any longer. She was more than tempted to fly back to the motel, but she knew people would freak out if they saw her looking like the Grim Reaper because of her black coat. That, and they could shoot at her, call her a freak, and then she'd lose her job, and then she'd be forced to find another place to settle down. She laughed at her silly thoughts, at the same time wondering why she decided to stay here of all places.

Rogue tugged at her gloves as she walked, feeling a bit skittish. She didn't know how to tell Scott –or believe it on her own, for that matter. Perhaps she'll surprise him with a bare-armed hug or maybe surprise him with a kiss? She giggled. Or better yet, maybe she can just take him out to fly somewhere up the mountains? But he wouldn't be able to appreciate that because he couldn't see shit. Smart, Rogue. Unable to think of what to do with her sudden touchable status, she decided to not dwell on it for the mean time. He would certainly ask her how she got instant control, and those questions she was not ready to answer yet.

Before completely losing her nerve, Rogue sprinted back to the motel without sweat. She knocked on the door before entering. "Scott?" she asked, and twisted the doorknob. It was open. When she entered the place, she found him sitting on the loveseat near the kitchenette, his head jerking towards her direction. "I'm back."

Scott looked like he was having a tantrum, though he looked pretty much like his old self, handsome and fit. He must have eaten all his food and exercised during his cable TV marathon. She missed his smile, because he just grunted at her, "Took you long enough."

"A lot has happened," Rogue sighed loudly and plopped down the bed, uncaring if her bags were left unattended by the door. Ignoring Scott's sour mood, she tried to strike a conversation. She missed him a little. "I don't know where to start."

"Maybe you'd enlighten us then," a deep voice asked in time after she heard the toilet flushing.

"Logan?" she asked breathlessly. Her heart just skipped a bit. It was him, alright; all muscle, flannel shirt, unruly brown hair and that damn eyebrow. The room suddenly felt too small; he was such a big guy. His hands were adjusting that silver belt buckle when their gazes finally met.

"In the flesh, darlin'."

"Glad to have you back, One-Eye."

Scott only nodded. "Thanks."

"No, thank you," he answered, eyeing Rogue again. Logan couldn't help but gawk. She was exceptionally different in so many ways. He didn't even think she was aware just how much she had transformed since leaving Wetchester. It was still the same innocent, beautiful face, her defined pouty mouth, but her pin-straight hair had burst into a fiery thick mane that fell down her waist. Made her look all sorts of wild. And her eyes, God help him –her intense, soulful eyes, framed by her thick, long lashes, had become even more ripened with secret experiences he wanted to discover. But her bronzed stare avoided him like the plague and in all honesty, it was irritating the hell outta him.

Their interaction had been halted earlier when Ororo entered the room, apologizing to Scott for forgetting his signature visor in the plane. She also gave Rogue a bone-crushing hug. She barely contained her excitement about telling them about New Charles, but they knew it was better for the telepath to greet them himself. A good kind of surprise. So the two of them decided to keep mum about how they traced them here, but neither seemed concerned though.

"Here you go, Scott," Ororo said, handing the man his trusty shades. She couldn't keep the happy grin from her face, which was understandable, considering she had regained two of the most important people in her life. First her father –albeit younger, and now, the man she considered her brother. Taking the spectacles from her hand, Scott thanked her and slid it over his eyes. However, he remained quiet, unbearably so that Ororo had to ask him, "Scott, are you alright?"

The man just nodded, but remained speechless.

Ignoring the two intruders in their small abode, Rogue marched towards Scott and touched his wrists with her gloved hands. She crouched in front of him and gave his hands a squeeze.

Logan felt a strange feeling in his gut when he watched Rogue act so… intimate with the other man.What the fuck was going on here? But he wanted to see what happened next and like some sick fetish, he couldn't just turn away. Ororo was observing the two as well. Jaws and fists clenched, he was too tempted to bury his claws on the wall just to keep from lashing at Scott for touching someone that was his. He felt the blood drain from his face. What the fuck? Where did that come from?

"Hey," Rogue whispered. "It's OK to open your eyes now." She took his hands and let his fingers trace his visor, letting him feel its texture, let him trace the ruby-quartz lens that shielded the world from his eyes, and urged him on with a gentle voice, "Welcome back, Cyclops."

Even Ororo's eyes widened as she shot Logan a knowing look. He, on the other hand, wasn't as pleased. A growl was going to erupt from his throat in three, two…

"Wha…" Scott exclaimed in pure astonishment, drawing back, seeing Rogue for the first time. "D-did you look like that all along?"

"Bleh," Rogue retorted childishly and dropped his hands.

"You…" Scott swallowed nervously. "You're drop dead gorgeous!"

"Ehem," Logan cleared his throat loudly, though it sounded more like a growl. Ororo was quick to give him her attention, but took Rogue and Scott a few seconds to catch up. "Do you need help in packing?"

"No," Rogue answered quickly. "I'm sure Scott would prefer his clothes at the mansion." She glanced at him for confirmation, but Cyclops was still staring at her, transfixed. Actually, all of them were watching her curiously.

This time, it was Ororo who asked, "Rogue? Are you alri–"

"Of course I'm alright," she answered in a beat. "Are we leaving or what?"

Ororo nodded excitedly, her giddiness returning. She latched on Scott's arm, and dragged him out of the room eagerly. Before he left the place, he gave it one last regard, looked at Rogue again and yelled, "BRING MY HOODIE!" The door was left open and a cold breeze blew inside, but neither of the remaining occupants shivered.

The fist-sized muscle in Logan's ribcage was doing all kinds of summersaults. He glanced at her, but she found the open door more interesting than him. "Rogue?" he whispered gently, but she still didn't move. He wanted to pull her in his arms; remind himself of the warmth he knew so well ever since he had held her so close that second time he let her drain him. Maybe she needed to hear him saying her nickname for her, something familiar? "Kid?" he tried, but hurt flashed on her face instead. "Marie…"

Rogue picked up her bag by the door. "You can go ahead and wait by the plane. I'll just settle our bill."

He didn't know how to fix it. How can he take it back? Wolverine kept on kicking his ass in his mind. "Do you need money?" He felt taken aback when she –did she just snarl at him?

"I can pay for myself." Rogue placed her things on the bed. She was about to check the cabinet, but she stopped walking. "I said I'll follow you in the plane."

"Christ, Marie–"

"I'm tired, Logan. I need some time alone. Please leave."

Rogue said it with such conviction that all he could do was nod. He took a step towards the exit, but hesitated still. "Are you sure you're coming with us?" Because I will drag you in that damn plane if you say no. Don't say no, Marie. You can't.

"Yes," Rogue answered, putting his mind at rest, but she added aloofly before he left, "Scott needs me to be there."

Minutes later after their awkward reunion, they were on their flight back to New York. It was overwhelming, their little party of four, but Ororo was bubbling with energy, as was Scott. Logan and Rogue, however, were occupied with their own thoughts.

"Who's left to guard the school?" Scott asked anxiously.

You'd think he would start taking full control once he returned, but he easily declined Ororo's offer to co-pilot the Blackbird. On the other hand, maybe it was false humility, but some lame attempt to come between him and Rogue. Because Scott sat beside her while Logan sat across them.

Logan also noticed that he was cradling 'his hoodie', which he knew was Rogue's. Not only did it smell like her, but the big brown body warmer was Rogue's favorite garment whenever she was cold in the mansion. After hearing Scott's story, he knew it was probably the first decent thing he had worn since she found him.

He usually was a sarcastic bastard, but Logan only listened when Ororo answered Scott's question, "Pete and Bobby are great with the kids, you know. You trained them well."

Scott just chuckled and stared at the window. "I've never been this excited riding a plane before," he jested, glancing at his female seat mate.

They looked like they were in their own little world again, Logan noted, which was annoying as fuck.

But what more could he ask for?

The important thing is, he placated himself, she's here. She's finally here.

And you better keep it that way, bub, Wolverine warned.

Bet your ass I would.

"Rogue, do you need a vomit bag?" Scott said, a frown on his face. "You look like you're going to hurl your breakfast."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not." Actually, it's because Logan won't stop staring at me. She gave Scott a light shove on the arm and stared out the window on the other side of the plane. She wondered if she could fly faster than the Blackbird. She wanted to find out, but now wasn't such a good time. Her skin prickled again, and as expected, she found those haunting hazel eyes of his boring into hers. Damn it, she cursed, having fallen into his trap of finally looking at him. She resorted to staring at her gloves, and used that to concentrate on what happened to her this week.

I'm touchable, she thought. I should be rejoicing!

Marie's fantasies bloomed in her head, the one about kissing Logan right on the lips with tongue, but he was just right in front of her and she hoped to the heavens that her invulnerability spared her from blushing. But one can only hope so much, and Scott, the one person she trusted to save her in this situation, decided to tease her again.

"If it weren't for my visor, I would have said you were blushing."

Rogue's eyes widened at him, and her face felt like it had definitely caught on fire when she heard Logan snicker. Somehow, it was the other female who saved her as she proceeded to tell them about things they missed the past month: Hank was in the UN, Bobby was currently training the junior X-Men team, and Logan was actually teaching classes on his own.

"The ones that matter," Logan piped in. "The manly classes."

"SEXIST!" Rogue and Ororo chorused, and Scott was the first to burst out with laughter. He probably caught himself looking out of character because Logan regarded him with a shocked expression on his face.

"What?" Scott asked in a defensive tone. "People change."

"Glad you finally lost that stick, Scooter."

"Don't start–"

"That stick up your ass."

Rogue only rolled her eyes when they began their senseless, albeit light-hearted bickering. Thankful for the distraction, she closed her eyes and tried to rest until they arrived at the school grounds. After a while, her senses told her to wake up.

Scott had a grin on his face. The mansion was there, waiting. She felt comforted that he was taking this rather well. At least he was happy, like he was coming home. As they got down the plane, they heard it loud and clear:

Welcome back home, lady and gentleman.

Rogue and Scott jumped when they heard the familiar greeting. They gawked at each other and then turned their gazes to Ororo and Logan.

"Professor…?" Scott recovered quickly and dashed inside the mansion without another word.

Rogue, on the other hand, only watched the trail where he had left. "He's alive?"

"Ah… It's quite hard to explain," Ororo admitted with a confused look on her face. She placed an arm around Rogue, who remained immobile where she stood. "Take your time, Rogue. I'm just glad you're back!" After giving her another squeeze, Ororo waved goodbye and followed Scott.

I'm not staying, she replied in her head. Rogue felt the need to bolt, fly back to Canada even if it took forever. And it was inevitable, that she was finally left alone with Logan, who was observing her so intently from behind. If only he stared at her because of her perky bottom, but she knew it was because of something else.

"Kid, Marie…"

It was a knife plunged through her gut –and it's not because he called her 'kid' or he still says her name like she's the most precious thing in his life. She wanted nothing more but to turn around and wrap her arms around him and say how much she'd missed him. Say his name again and let him feel just how much she'd sacrificed to be with him. But she couldn't. Right now, she was Marie, the coward who loved him with all her heart, who would rather die than hurt him intentionally. Sputtering about needing to see the Professor, she ran, far away from the man she considered the love of her life.

How can I face him, Rogue thought, when I killed his brother in cold blood?

But the secret was that she did not regret it –everything.

Not one bit.

Rogue observed him from the distance. She couldn't seem to call the man with her affectionate 'Professor' anymore. She had even called him that ridiculous nickname Logan had dubbed him –New Charles. The Professor was such a warm fellow –the old one, that is. He was all hairless and fatherly, his eyes full of wisdom and sincerity. It was hard to think of anything but respect and hope when you were around him. Now, though, New Charles was a fucking weirdo.

New Charles, with his thick head of hair, liked to flash the ladies his boyish smile and witty one-liners. It was hard read the expressions on his face. Not to mention that whenever you conversed with him, his eyes seemed to bore into you, like he wanted to intrude on your thoughts and, uh, something else. She expected him to be composed, just like his old self, but New Charles was definitely the New Charles. It was as if he was becoming this different entity, and the old Professor was becoming but a part of the past. It's not like she didn't like New Charles, but he was definitely NOT the Professor anymore. Maybe this was what he had been like when he was younger –quick, humorous, charming, and ah… like what Logan said, a pansy.

Logan.

The man was such a pest. If it weren't for Sabretooth's heightened senses, she wouldn't have managed to avoid his now becoming all too obvious stalking. He liked to corner her, but the strange thing was, whenever he found the chance to be alone with her, he just resorted to gaping at her, like he was sizing her up, trying to figure her out. She didn't want to read his intentions just yet, although a part of her felt glorified for having his attention all to herself, finally. But she realized even she couldn't say anything to him, too.

Knowing about Victor Creed's connection to him crowded her dreams at night, that she decided not to sleep at all. She would pretend to retire to her room (in the guest rooms, next door to New Charles –which was another problem all together), but fly out her window and sit by the roof. When she felt Logan doing his evening patrols, she would fly so high up in the sky till her face had turned blue because of frostbite.

But did she feel anything different for Logan?

Yes, definitely, but she didn't want to decide to be specific with her emotions just yet. For now, Rogue was willing to play along with the pretense that she was back for good, ignored the relief on everyone's faces when they found out that she chose not to take the cure because she was still wearing her gloves (sons of bitches) and she just went over a drastic makeover –which definitely aroused most of the male population whenever she was around. The fuckers.

For now, her mission was simple: don't be an idiot and confess her literally undying love to him, which can only be accomplished by avoiding the big lug. Ha. Yeah right. So whenever her Logan senses tingled, she had to act like he was going to give her STDs. Which was actually stupid, because she could heal –STOP, she reprimanded herself. Don't even go there.

"Roguey?" Scott's voice asked, his head popping by the door in the TV room. He jumped over the couch to sit beside her. He plopped his feet on the coffee table and grabbed the remote control between them. He changed the channel, which made her look at him in disgust. "Um, I'm not even sorry. It's my telenovela time. Conchita's about to confess to Alejandro." Instead of dropping his TV habit, he actually embraced it even more –especially wen he found out that the Conchita character was a Latina bombshell.

"Why do I bother," Rogue said, rolling her eyes. They sat side by side on the sofa, and thankfully, she didn't feel the intimidating leer Logan sent their way whenever they were together. Besides, Logan had classes to teach this morning. She didn't even mind when Scott called her Roguey. Because what the fuck, right? Trying hard to think of something else, she read the title of the show: "Dame Tu Amore. Do you even know how to speak Spanish?"

"No," Scott laughed. "But I think it means 'give me your hot lovin' or something." He said the last part with his eyebrows wiggling up and down from his visor.

"What the hell, Scott?"

"Hey, this is actually pretty good!" he defended his show. "The emotion in their voices are so intense and…"

They both started laughing. When Conchita reappeared on the screen, Scott forgot she even existed that all Rogue could do was frown at him like he had a second head growing out of his back. Well, it was certain that her friend didn't care one bit if people caught him watching the show, the same way he didn't care if everyone thought he was definitely a different Scott now. Somehow, she felt proud of him. If only I were that confident, she sighed.

Then Rogue felt it –that familiar tingle down her spine, making the hairs on her body stand on end. He was watching them. Her gloves felt so hot and cold at the same time. "I'm gonna go, Scott. I think I'm coming down with something."

Thankfully, Scott was too immersed with Conchita to hear her lie. "What?"

Waving him off, Rogue left through the other exit of the room, but she should have known better. Wolverine had been trained for stealth despite his 6'2 frame, that it was like breathing to him. She had to stop herself from flying off the floor when he startled her as she rounded the corner back to the dorms. "Logan," she squeaked, backing against the wall.

"Why aren't you talking to me?" he asked sullenly. He looked hurt, but there was something else in his gaze that made her want to balk –or ravish him right on the hallway.

"I didn't know I was supposed to," she said, which they both knew was a fucking joke. Because they liked to talk. She always made it a point to talk to him, to see him at least once a day. But now she couldn't even look him in the eyes. He was right there, and she couldn't lift one finger up-

"Logan!" she hissed quietly, when he wrapped her in an embrace. Now this she didn't expect, her softness molding all over his firm body. She was melting. Her senses were overwhelmed by his musky scent of cigar, sweat, beer and man. So Logan. I love you, she said in her head, and for a moment she lost herself. The need to bury her face in the crook of his neck and take everything in, pepper his skin with kisses, butno –she tried pushing him away, "Logan, are you t-trying to hurt yourself!" she protested breathlessly, but he locks her in his caress even harder. The super strength she was so proud of was useless in his arms. Her body felt like it was set ablaze, the raging of her heart making a soft slow burn down to her belly. And the hard outline of his belt buckle pressed against her belly and she wondered, what if this was something else… something…

"Marie," he growled softly, almost possessively she couldn't help but whimper in pleasure. His voice felt like fingers inside her body, sliding inside, feeling her everywhere. "I missed you. I miss you."

Rogue moaned out loud when he touched her slender neck with bare hands –and it occurred to her that she had forgotten to put on a scarf, but oh –the delight of his hands on her skin, it was blinding. This was what she wanted all along and it was driving her crazy. She wanted to climb up his body, wrap her legs around his waist and let him take her against the wall in broad daylight where everyone could see just how much she wanted him.

Logan must have sensed her arousal, as he stiffened for a moment and that mere second of hesitating had brought her back to reality. She used a portion of her new strength and pushed him away. "M-Marie…" He looked guilty, like she had caught him sticking his hand down the cookie jar, and for a second she wished it were true in Freudian terms.

"Did I hurt you?!" she demanded instead, trying to change the subject, making them both look even more flustered. She didn't take a thing from him, no, and he knew that the short contact wasn't going to hurt him one bit. But both of them were donning flushed faces and the scent of arousal in the air was thick as honey, just like the wetness forming between her legs. Embarrassed as fuck, and close to exploding, Rogue returned to avoiding his gaze and ran to her room.

From their last encounter at the hangar, they barely had time alone. After the arrival of New Charles, which was a feat in itself, once again the mansion was brought to another level of exuberance with the arrival of Scott, and most of all, the very hot, sexy new Rogue. He hated the attention she was getting from almost every male who was in her vicinity. Though she didn't wear outfits to draw attention to herself, every curve and graceful step was enough to make anyone with a dick look like a virgin teenage boy. It didn't help that she was projecting this mysterious aura about her.

All he could do was observe her. What was so different about her? Her scent was still Marie, his –but, he was quick to alter his thoughts with that, there was this change that made her scent more appealing, more… penetrating. It was almost as if she had absorbed someone so...

Even New Charles was intrigued, he can tell. There were a few times when the young man looked like he was more interested in staring at Rogue rather than talking to her about her previous whereabouts the past few weeks. But she had remained elusive, and just retold the plain version of the story: she didn't take the cure, went to Canada, hoping to get somewhere near Alaska, and accidentally found Scott. It was the truth, but she was evidently not wholeheartedly honest.

When he first arrived at the motel where Scott was staying, he was unable to stop himself from demanding where Rogue was, because her scent was all over the goddamned place. But Scott responded scrupulously –he had no idea where she went, but he knew she had been working at a bar somewhere to earn extra cash. But, he said, he knew she wasn't working lately. But she promised to return, sort of. And then there she arrived, just in time. Her scents were mixed and suspicious, but even those faded by the time their gazes met. Marie. Where had she been, he wanted to ask, but she was so moody and ambiguous. Asking her more questions would probably drive her away so he kept his mouth shut.

Whenever Logan heard the young men in the mansion planning to ask her out, he had growled at them shamelessly and told them to think again. He didn't even bother to explain himself, all that was clear to him was that they couldn't be with her, no. Not when he's around. Even when he wasn't around, actually, but that wasn't the point, was it?

Whatever makes you sleep at night, bub.

Logan was teaching in self defense classe when he saw Scott's brown head pass by the hallway. He smelled the usually-sane-turned-snappy mutant walking down the corridor, probably on his way to the common room with the wide screen TV. The man had been watching television more than the average person, he wondered when Ororo would start doing an intervention.

My Marie, Wolverine chided. She's there too.

Annoyed once again with the thought that those two were so familiar with each other, and thinking about them kissing and fucking –OH FUCKING HELL NO! "Get a partner and practice, I'll be back soon, NO SLACKING OFF, I'll KNOW IF you guys didn't do what I instructed!" he said in one breath and slid out of the room to follow One-Eye.

You fucking slowpoke.

And that's where he caught them. Sitting beside each other like he and Marie would have months ago. Watching TV. Laughing. It made him want to tear them apart with his claws. He always had Marie all to himself whenever he was in the room, even when she had been dating that Ice Prick –how long had he taken that for granted? Marie would look at him like he meant the world to her. Meant. Past tense.

Fuck that.

His heart did a jumpstart when Rogue excused herself and went out the other door. She knew. She knew he was watching.

He followed her so quietly he even surprised himself he was capable of that shit. No one was around, and he liked to believe she'd spare him some of her time. He felt like they needed to talk –what about, he didn't know, but he had to try. When he blocked her path all of a sudden, he decided to ask the only thing on his mind, "Why aren't you talking to me?" He recoiled in his head about how pathetic he sounded, like he was a kid who wasn't allowed to play with his new toy.

"I didn't know I was supposed to," she answered.

She didn't? Logan felt angered and betrayed. But as he watched her, he saw Marie –his Marie, looking a little lost and helpless, caught in the thoughts and voices in her brain. Fondness, affection and a whole lot of other things he couldn't explain flooded through him. He just had to hold her close, so he gave into the need and took one big step towards her and trapped her in an embrace.

The embrace was initially a good one. It was meant to be innocent, between friends. But then she called out his name, "Logan!" and that's when all the inappropriate things swirled in his head, especially now that his body could feel every inch of her softness squeezed against his. It was addictive. He wanted to push harder, see how much he could do until she moaned. It was… "Logan, are you t-trying to hurt yourself!"

Her skin. Her beautiful alabaster skin, now tinged with pink. He liked it, like the breathy tone of her voice and the soft locks of hair tangled in his arms. Bet she didn't think he would embrace her like this, like he wanted her. "Marie…" he heard himself saying, and it felt foreign to his ears, because he sounded so desperate, so whipped. "I missed you. I miss you." I'm sorry, kid. I'm sorry, his rational brain thought, but I want more. More. His hands sought out her skin, and the only place where he could touch her without barrier was her long, smooth neck, and so he did. He let his palm rest on that warmth, felt her hair weave through his fingers, felt the soft beat of her jugular against his palm. She was so alive, so here, so soft. He waited for the pull, but it didn't come.

Instead, she moaned.

Fuck, he thought. You weren't supposed to sound like that, baby. He knew he was hard, but thankfully his jeans were tight, but his belt buckle was probably poking her to death. Logan wanted to slide his hands lower, cup her ass and lift her up. What the fuck am I thinking? "M-Marie…" She had sense enough for both of them when she pushed him away; when did she become that strong? He wanted her back in his arms, but why the fuck…

"Did I hurt you?!"

Marie, the only thing hurting me is the cock strained in my jeans. He could only stare at her, get lost in the sensations their contact made…

Was she wet? he wondered foolishly. Because she was. He could smell the sweet aroma invading his nostrils. Fuck.

He couldn't move. One wrong move.

Fuck, Marie was a kid. She…

Before he can do anything else, she saved them once again by being the one strong enough to leave.

He missed her already.

He was still hard.

Wolverine was laughing in his head contentedly, mocking him.

What the fuck just happened?

Rogue was losing it. Not really, but she felt like she was. Her super-powered body had tried to cope the best that it could for almost a week without sleep since returning to the mansion, but as usual, it was her over-active emotions that couldn't handle the pressure. The slight hum of voices/memories were starting to lose its chaotic yet staple spinning in her head because of tiredness, but her ovaries represented what she could classify a bigger problem altogether.

Touching Logan hadn't been in the agenda since returning here.

Sure, she conspired with Raven for Operation Immortalize, but Rogue realized she hadn't planned ahead, specifically on what to do when she actually saw Logan in person. Why the fuck did she expect he wouldn't lay a finger on her, when all along, he had been the only one who had been unafraid to touch her? She ran away after their steamy embrace, but what now? She couldn't face him since then. Well, it's not like they had anything more to say to each other. Unless he wanted a repeat of that… But no, Rogue thought. She couldn't. They both knew she was the talkative one, and perhaps now he couldn't blame her for being so tongue-tied whenever he was around. It went both ways regardless.

All the adults were in their classes today –except for Scott, who was busy watching his precious Conchita. He was more than willing to get back to teaching again, with the condition that his mornings were free for TV time. Ororo had been more than willing to agree –anything to have him back on track. The Professor had announced that he would prefer to be addressed as –no, not New Charles, but another of Logan's nicknames for him (no not Wheels), Chuck. He said he couldn't get used to the awkward stares everyone gave him now and then, and said he would rather prefer everyone to acknowledge the fact that he was, indeed, a new person. Aside from teaching, he was also obsessed with physical training –most likely brought about by Logan's teasing about him being a weakling.

Coping had always been one of the mansion residents' strongest suits, and Scott, Chuck, and everyone else, easily fell in tune with the whole new dynamic. It was Rogue, however, that still didn't fit into the mix. She didn't want to, as she politely declined when Ororo mentioned her previous job.

Before leaving the mansion, Rogue had been cooped up with clerical work. Filing papers, proof-reading documents, making calls, etc. Secretarial work was the best way she avoided people in general. But now, she wasn't sure she could pigeonhole herself anymore –not only because she was secretly touchable, but because she would rather play the guitar for a living, even if the pay wasn't enough to make her rich.

The mansion made her forget music for convenience –not to mention all the drama that came along with it. When you almost died twice, had unrequited love, a sort-of-fake boyfriend, the voices in her head, school, and avoiding killing people accidentally –her guitar-playing had to take a backseat. It was only right that Marie the Musician had to remain in a ditch after getting her curse. The gloves were a constant ever since then, and playing the guitar didn't exactly make sense with those –especially if she was used to shredding. She never really gave it any serious thought, but ever since she played for Karl's, gaining control over her mutation, and the confidence she had absorbed from Carol, Victor, and being a truly independent, capable person on the road –she knew that she couldn't return to being a lame ass secretary. Give or take they would have dubbed her the crazy cat lady even if she didn't have a cat.

And as Rogue wandered aimlessly through the mansion, unable to concentrate on anything but the fire in her loins and the dreary sounds in her head, she heard a lively piece coming from the Music Room. The buzz in her head was once again put to rest as she paced towards where the notes were oozing in bouncy, spirited tingles in the air. Energized and nervous, she opened the door and found the pianist to be none other than Chuck. "Professor?"

Chuck regarded her with a smile and a nod, encouraging her to enter the room. She returned his smile with one of her own and shut the door behind her. She closed her eyes as he repeated the piece, once again marveling how real music managed to soothe her soul. When it was finished, she was breathing calmly, just like she would after having a heart-to-heart with the old Charles.

"It's Chopin's 'Butterfly Etude'," he said, his fingers resting on his lap. "Was it any good?"

"Yes, definitely," Rogue answered quickly. Her heart was pounding, brought to excitement by the melody he had played. She blushed then, feeling his intentional gaze pierce right through her. She looked away. "Did you read my mind?"

Chuck shook his head. "Far from it." He gave her another knowing grin. "But you were projecting rather loudly, something about missing music." He gave her a look that was a mix of amusement and curiosity. "Also something about 'rage'."

Technically, he probably misread missing 'Rage', her guitar. But it was partly true. Last week Rogue was on a roll and now, life at the mansion was boring. And awkward. "Thank you for playing. You really didn't have to."

"It was my pleasure. I've been planning to for so long, but never got around to it," he said. "But that specific piece though… I played it for you, I have to admit."

"You did?" They both knew there wasn't romantic about the music –unless you were determined to interpret it as such.

"You're a butterfly now, aren't you?" he asked. "Surely, you must know."

Always on the move. Fluttering about. Never still. Broken free from her cocoon. Wings spread. Flying. New colors. But instead of delving in however she perceived his words, she just stifled a giggle. "You know, Profess –I mean, Chuck." She cleared her throat. "You have to stop speaking Jesus."

"I just hope that you would tell us this time around, if ever you do wish to shift to another flowerbed…" he trailed off, and then gave her a wink. "Or perhaps, you would wish to just single out that one bud you wish to pollinate?"

Rogue glowered at him.

"All I'm saying is, Rogue, maybe it is time for you to be clear with your intentions with him–"

I've always been clear, she snapped telepathically. "I don't know what you're saying."

Chuck gave her a disbelieving look. Perhaps if you were still 17, I would have been against the two of you getting together. Then again, I am no longer bald…

He's confused –hell, I'm confused. Rogue sighed. Just drop it.

Whatever you wish, Rogue. Chuck ended the conversation. "My, you surely never fail to impress. Since when did you learn to start a telepathic link like that?"

Must be Emma, Rogue thought to herself, but secured her thoughts back in place. "I just need sleep," she said, knowing it didn't really make any sense, or connection to what he asked. She walked to the door and turned to him before leaving, "Chuck, thank you. But seriously, get off my case."

"But neighbors are supposed to care for each other, Rogue."

Rogue could only laugh as she left the telepath alone in the music room.

Time to get some shut-eye.

Logan groaned loudly when the shower burst, the hot water prickling his back like boiling rain. Even if physically, he was in tiptop shape, all his activities today made him feel burned out and tired. He had been extra meticulous with the trainees in the Danger Room, snuck in a few rounds of level 10 workouts for himself, and volunteered to be Chuck's spotter when he trained. He even jogged with the man after that, for fuck's sake.

When he felt hungry, he just grabbed food from the cafeteria and went on his way. Whenever someone needed help from him, he gave it wordlessly. If someone asked for instructions, he went about it like a professional. He even put the grunting to a minimum. And before he could notice how people saw how strange he was acting, he resorted to going out to the gardens during his breaks –which was saying much. When he found himself straying by the gravestones, he couldn't help but feel like he was in a museum. But it was as close to nature as he could get without bolting to the mountains.

Maybe he needed some serious 'self-recollection' ASAP. Marie kept on popping in his head even more so than necessary. Wasn't he supposed to be alright now, calm? She was finally here at the mansion –wasn't his mission to find her finally accomplished? No, his mind breached, more. More, more. Fine, maybe it was his fucking dick doing the thinking. But as much as she was here, she wasn't really here, was she?

She wasn't with him.

It had only been a couple of days in the mansion, and instead of falling back into her usual routine, Marie didn't jump into work. She spent her time reading, making casual talk with people, watching TV with Scott, or being the all-around assistant teacher of the place. He was proud of her in that sense, finally being so fearless despite her mutation. How long had he wanted to see her that way, so brave and confident in her skin? But even if she was slightly occupied, she appeared like someone simply playing a part. Like she really wasn't going to stay, and that made him feel all kinds of troubled. What the fuck was she planning? She wasn't planning on returning to Canada, was she?

The questions that devoured his head were not put to rest except for sleeping time. It was self-punishing, but he actually preferred, for once, to dream about his nightmares rather than obsess about Marie. Because Marie was such a dangerous place to be. Fuck, even that sounded sexual to him.

Delectably dangerous, Wolverine added. Damn, to be inside her–

Fuck, Logan snapped again. Wolverine wasn't helping either. His inner feral enjoyed everything that was happening to him. His torment, his avoidance of her –it only confirmed what Wolverine liked to call denial. The more he pushed the Marie-thoughts away, the more there was truth to the fact that there was something between them. But Logan was a stubborn man. If there was anything, maybe it was just that he felt like he had failed her, when he had promised her years ago to take care of her…

Wolverine laughed. And you wanted to take care of her sweet pussy when you embraced her the other day, right?

Logan literally slammed his head against the wall of his bathroom. The bloody concrete dented and chipped off. While his cut healed, he showered again to rid his hair of the dusty remains of the broken cement. No, he argued. Marie's my friend.

A fuckable one, at that.

"SHUT UP!" Logan yelled at himself, partly thankful that no one was in the same floor as he was because it was dinnertime. But he could still smell her everywhere, God, she was everywhere. He should just get some sleep. It was the only way to stop this. He –nor Wolverine, would be able to think of Marie when the nightmares started. Preferring despicable dreams over his Marie?

Oh Christ, I'm such a sick fuck.

Marie is NOT yours, not yours!

MINE, MINE, MINE!

Jaws clenched, the sting of his bruise starting to fade, Logan pulled his emergency stash of alcohol from under the bed and chugged it down in one go. The slight fizzle would be gone in a minute or two, so without putting his clothes on, he jumped on the bed and tried to sleep.

Too engaged in his mental debate and his resolve to sleep, Logan did not see the pair of eyes watching him from outside his window.

An explosion.

Logan was running.

Faster, faster! Wolverine screamed. MOVE FASTER!

Another loud, eardrum-shattering boom is heard from behind, that even his Adamantium-laced skeleton was flung across the white blanket of snow like a sack of potatoes.

MOVE, MOVE! Wolverine barked and his eyes flashed open, and once again, he was running forward. He could smell the blood pouring from several gashes on his body, but there was no time to rest, no time to think –just run!

Running from who, sugar?

Marie! Logan thought in panic. I left her! He pivoted his heel and readied to move again when a bright blaze stopped him. Hunching down the cold, he growled, and readied himself to attack. Thiswas keeping him from her. From Marie. His friend. His lover. His mate.

Stop running, Marie's voice echoed again.

Logan snarled again –where was she!? He bared his fangs, unsheathed his claws. He was about to charge towards the fire across him but something else pounced in front of him: Sabretooth!

He had Marie, he had Marie!

Engulfed in flames, Sabretooth's sharp metallic nails extended an inch down. Then he flew towards Logan and knocked him back on the snow. Logan hollered in anger and tried to push him away, but this Sabretooth was strong –stronger than he had ever been.

NO! Logan thought. Give her back to me!

We got her, the feral sneered on top of him.

NO! NEVER! I'm going to KILL YOU!

When Logan blinked, he saw him shapeshift into his Marie. His eyes widened, but he knew it was Mystique. Fucking bitch! He tried pushing her away, but she was so resilient. Mystique wasn't this overpowering as well. He could toss her aside with just a swipe of his arm. But he couldn't move.

It's me, sugar.

Marie. Marie. My Marie. He wanted to clear the long white hair from her face, see her eyes for himself. Oh you're so pretty, Marie. Fuckin' perfect –even if it's probably the blue bitch seducin' me right now. She ground her hips down against his crotch, but he remained where he was, even if his body was starting to respond to her actions. Three seconds, you fuckin' Smurf. You've no right to use her.

But it's me, she insisted, rubbing harder against him.

THREE!

Using all his strength, he broke out of her hold and buried those three claws in her belly just like last time. Take that, bitch–

"AHHH!" someone squealed too loudly, too real, and made Logan sit up in bed, his eyes widening at what he saw in the dim light. His retreating claws made a vision of three perfectly punctured holes on the sweat-drenched, bare flesh. The blood was flowing, and flowing. "M-Marie…?" he slurred.

Was this even real?

But it was. Her brown eyes gaped at him with panic, just like that first time he stabbed her, but this time around she does not touch his jaw to save herself. Instead she fell or rather, floated backwards, a dribble of blood spilling from her lips.

Maybe he was still dreaming, Marie didn't hover.

"Marie!" he found his voice, finally accepting he had indeed hurt her, that –and she stumbled out the window, leaving him with a bloody blanket and a full-fledged erection. His chest heaved as he run his fingers through his hair, tried to pull them out, tried to make sure he was fully awake. He leapt from the bed to see her crawling away from the mansion, cradling her belly.

Did she just jump all the way down there?

After stuffing his legs and his hard, needy, dangling manhood into his jeans, Logan lost all conscious thought and followed her lead. He couldn't wrap his head around what had just happened. Was it a dream? He wanted it to be, but the scent of her blood was too fresh in his nose. He started running faster, hoping to get to her in time. But as much as the images of her bare breasts were assaulting his brain, those rosy tips pinched and ready for fondling and suckling –there was something else that was racing through his head:

Did he just witness her wounds heal in front of his eyes?

Or did she touch him longer than necessary before he woke up? But he was too familiar with how it felt to have his mutation absorbed from him, and he felt none of it. And if she did try absorbing him, wouldn't she need at least more to heal herself?

Everything was foggy. But his feet kept moving.

Was it a dream?

No, no it wasn't.

The chase stopped when he reached the lake. Marie was kneeling in front of the water, and he could smell the scent of tears, blood and arousal. Her wounds were healed. He tried reaching out, but she flinched further away from him. "Marie, I'm... I'm sorry… Let me heal you. Please." Did he just beg? Maybe. He didn't care.

Marie looked like a nymph. Her waist-long hair covering her back, naked from the waist up. The only thing covering her crotch was this tight, black bikini underwear. Her honeyed scent filled his brain, blocking out everything else. She turned around then, and he tried hard not to move. He gazed down at her in awe of her beauty. Naked. Marie was naked in front of him. His cock was trying to escape his jeans, felt its traitorous head peak from the button of his fly.

"I don't need you anymore, Logan," she murmured. Marie took a step closer to him, and he was tempted to take another step back, but she caught his trembling hand and pressed it against the flawless patch of skin where he had pierced her only a few minutes ago. It was gone. Only smooth, moist skin greeted his palm. Then he felt it, the intense loss of energy, and perhaps what came with his sanity, as he fell on his knees, his face right in front of the part of her body where he almost killed her with his claws. He fell down just like that, just like the tears running down his face, but he was too disoriented to mind.

Without another thought, Logan pressed his face on her flesh, unafraid if her skin would suck him dry. But there was no pull, only stillness and heat. He let out a mangled cry when he wrapped his arms around her hips, crushing her to him, feeling how tangible she was. The scent of her core was reducing him to a ball of desire and helplessness –all he could do was nuzzle into her, mingle his tears with the sweat of her warm skin. "I thought I'd killed you… you ran away and… Marie, don't…" He looked up at her, saw her gazing at him between the valley of her breasts, regarding him with an expression he could not fathom. "Don't run away from me anymore, Marie. Don't."

Logan opened his mouth, but instead of pleading, he kissed her belly and gave her navel a lick. She moaned. Just a little more and he could finally taste it, the sweet ambrosia between her legs. "Marie… My Marie…" Her arousal spiked the air once again, so powerful he felt like he would die from it. If this was death, then he accepted; let him die by her hands. "Marie," he called her again, hoping she would move, because he was done fighting. Done. He can't. He refused to fight this. No. Enough.

When Marie moved, however, all she did was pry his arms away from her so easily –and to think he had her on a death grip. He was stunned into silence as she bent lower to meet his gaze, giving him a wonderful view of her hanging breasts. He wanted to be behind her, take her raw. Let her have everything. Taste her.

"Do you understand what this is, Logan?"

No. He didn't. Not when all he could think about was consuming her. Inside and out. His. All his. "I need…"

Marie tipped his jaw upwards as she said it again, "I don't need you anymore."

Reality dawned on him because of the glare in her eyes. He felt struck by lightning, unable to move as he watched her levitate herself upward, her feet leaving the green grass.

This was no nymph.

She was this –his goddess, and she was flying higher up into the sky, and left him staring at the heavens, alone in the filthy earth.

The clouds were shifting, the stars were hiding, and he could smell the ground.

It was going to rain.

It was dawn when Wolverine spotted her descending from the misty skies. Rogue still looked as ethereal as she had left him, with her rain-drenched hair and magnificent skin out in the open. Had anyone seen her in such a state, he would have gladly severed them. He knew he wanted to do so many things to her, with her, for her, but all he could do now was look from the distance. Somehow, he had known that she would come back, because what happened a few hours ago wasn't goodbye.

It was a lesson.

Rogue not only wanted to show him, but herself as well, who she was now –or rather, who she wanted to be: a powerful woman who had a choice; she could live without him if she wanted to.

The incredible fierceness she exuded was simply beautiful to Wolverine. She was as perfect as can be.

And she's mine, Wolverine thought, ecstatic in anticipation for things to come.

The only problem right now was one person: Logan.

Rogue knew her little show for Logan had been all about self-empowerment and pride, but when she returned to her room after distracting herself in nature for hours, she was but a naked, filthy mess. The reality of the two of them so... bare last night, the words they uttered, the bittersweet contact –it made her want to fly all the way to Kitty's university, absorb her mutation and phase herself down to the earth's molten core.

Pre-molesting Logan, Rogue's attempt to sleep had been in vain, obviously. She just tossed and turned in bed, because just as she was about to enter dreamland, her mind went gaga. She didn't fall asleep, she felt somewhat drunk and dazed –that the next thing she knew, she was outside Logan's window, floating near a tree, watching his every move.

Simply said, the clawed-mutant looked like someone who danced boogie nonstop for torture's sake. He had been so busy the entire day she knew he had been doing it just to avoid her. But his efforts only made him look hotter, ripped, giving her an eyeful when he stripped off, and went in the shower. She listened to his every move, and after a few moments, she heard a loud pound against the wall. When she smelled his blood, that's when it hit her.

Logan had been arguing with himself, and she knew exactly why. It was understandable though, because even Rogue had a hard time trying to cross that line. What were they anyway: best friends, friends and then lovers? It made no sense as much as it made perfect sense. Still it hurt, to be the cause of his inner conflict, that she wished she didn't know him so well.

Alone. Rogue felt so forlorn. Because what the fuck was she doing there, stalking Logan? Even with all her new powers, she was still that pathetic girl who had a crush on him. She tried not to put more blame on herself when he pulled a bottle of alcohol and drank it like water. After fazing a bit, he fell on his bed naked, pulled on the covers, and slept like a log.

In all honesty, Rogue planned to turn away after that, content that he was finally resting. After a minute or two, however, Logan began to groan. Nightmare. Her natural instinct was to gather her in his arms, tell him everything was alright. There were times in the past few years that she slipped in his room in the middle of the night to comfort him, fearless despite the danger. Because Logan was used to her. She was Marie, his friend, wasn't she?

Trusting what remained of her friendship to Logan, Rogue pushed his unlocked window open and swooped inside. She pasted herself across the room, watching him struggle with his inner demons. He growled in agony. Pain twisted her heart. She felt lonesome again. Why was she here, in the same room, but felt so far away from him? Why couldn't she just tell him everything like she would before? She would tell him about Raven, Emma, Sabretooth… Rogue knew he would forgive her. They would always forgive each other –that went without saying.

To come clean that she did everything for him, though, was entirely a different matter. She took a life with him in mind, for her own, selfish fantasies. Why would he want to be with someone like her? Love wasn't always a good enough reason, Rogue knew.

Logan's rumbling became louder, but this time around, it was of a different reason. Indeed, she saw the blanket covering his groin begin to rise, that she briefly wondered if he was dreaming of her. Rogue hoped so. She would be better than his nightmares, right?

It must have been the effect of having no sleep at all, or it was probably just her, snapping the 'bad kind of way', as Emma put it, because she heard a strange, deep voice enter her head.

Do it.

Wake him up.

Wake him up with your body.

Let him see what a woman you are.

He needs you, you know.

Don't stop.

Do it.

Rogue did not hesitate, spellbound by the waves of lust wafting off of him because of his dreams. She tore her gloves off, then her top. She slid off her jeans. She wanted him, to feel his bare skin under her hands again. The memory of his touch drove her to the edge. You shouldn't have touched me, Logan, Rogue thought. Now I must punish you.

Punish him with pleasure, the voice insisted.

Rogue inched her way from his feet to his waist. A soft sigh escaped her lips when she pushed his insistent shaft down and sat on it, the hard length warm between her legs. It made her so wet. The heat clouded her vision, just as the desire burst from her belly. Oh God, to have him inside her.

Then it happened.

Rogue should have figured that his adamantium claws could still wound her invulnerability with the force of his strength. Then the chase happened, followed by the scene at the lake, ended by her dramatic heaven-bound escape.

Only now did Rogue understand that Stabbing Marie II had been triggered because of her. Logan was used to Marie, not her, not the Carol-Sabretooth-infused Rogue. Who knows what kind of mutant she had become anyway? And that voice in her head that made her lose control –it didn't belong to any of the people she absorbed. It actually sounded like her and everyone else, warped into one single entity. But now it was quiet, like it didn't exist, and yet, it made her afraid.

Pushing the fear from her mind, Rogue knew she had to talk to Chuck. Staying in the mansion was definitely not for her anymore. This wasn't safe for anyone –hell, it wasn't even safe for her. After taking a shower, Rogue opened to the door to find a sleepy Chuck on the other side, greeting her with a smile. Before she could react, he merely pointed to the single seat sofa beside her bed. Confused and a bit shocked, she opened the door wider and let him in.

"I cannot stop you if you've already made up your mind," Chuck remarked, leaning against the cushion of the chair and shrugged. "But it would be proper to bid everyone goodbye this time around."

Rogue knew it was useless to pester him about knowing about her predicament. All she could do was shake her head. "I don't even care about what they think. I just… I don't know."

Like he couldn't stop himself, Chuck suddenly asked, "Do you really have those powers?"

"What?" she asked, glaring at him pointedly. "Logan told you!?" It wasn't even lunchtime yet, the blabbermouth!

"No!" Chuck exclaimed, waving his hands in the air. "It's all he's thinking about! In fact, he's still thinking about it now."

Remembering she exposed herself in front of Logan, sexually abused him in his sleep, made Rogue screech, "STOP LOOKING INTO IT!"

"I'm NOT!" Chuck closed his eyes and covered his ears. He peeked one eye at her. "He's just really… obsessed about it."

Obsessed. Rogue huffed, crossed her arms across her chest. "Why isn't he here then?" Why can't Logan just barge in her room and talk to her?

"Now that," the telepath said, tapping the air with his forefinger. "I don't know."

Rogue sighed loudly. "I can't be with Logan now." She wanted to erase what happened between them. Or not. "There's something going on with me. I think… I think I have to deal with this by myself." I can't do it here, when all I can think about is fucking him till we're both sore.

Chuck regarded her for a second. If he read her last thought, he didn't show it. "I know I'm not the Professor you're used to, but I am still that man." He gave her a warm smile. "If you think that you will benefit from living on your own, and not just because you're running away from your problem… then you have my blessing."

"I know. You're this new hottie but you still got your mojo," Rogue joked. She was about to thank him, but his relaxed face suddenly contorted like he was offended, worried, and sick to the stomach all at once. "Chuck, what's wrong?"

Chuck cleared his throat, rubbed his temples and flashed her a grin. "On the other hand… there is something you can do before going your way." Before she can speak, he said, "Join the team in one last mission. Consider it a goodbye for old times' sake."

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" Rogue exclaimed, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I'm not always joking around, mind you," Chuck said. "I just want you to know what you're missing." When the irritated expression on her face did not change, he just laughed. "OK, maybe I just want you to wear the leather suit one last time."

"Oh god, you're hopeless," Rogue hissed and pushed him away when he looked like he was going to hug her. Hands on her hips, she glared at him. "Fine. But after this, I'm out. Deal?"

"Deal," he chirped.

"I should be recording this for evidence," Rogue said, rolling her eyes. "So what do you want me to do?"

He only responded by chucking his head towards the door, and just in time, Ororo burst in the room, panic in her eyes. "CHARLES, CHUCK!" she yelled. "Moira called! JIMMY RAN AWAY!"

"I know, Ororo," Chuck responded calmly.

As she listened to Storm and Chuck converse, Rogue remembered that she never got the chance to meet Jimmy the Leech. She only heard of him through the mansion residents, during those rare occasions that the Phoenix issue was talked about in hushed voices. Apparently, Warren, the winged mutant, was the son of the man who set everything in motion and used Jimmy's mutated DNA to create the Cure. It wouldn't be a surprise at all, Chuck said, if the boy was abducted the moment he set foot out of the mansion. Of course there were still scientists out there who wanted to develop a Cure, not to help mutants, but to eliminate them for good. Revenge, possibly, from the chaos that happened months ago. It made perfect sense that they would want Jimmy back.

"I could feel Moira's distress at this very moment."

Jimmy could negate or nullify powers. It was a strange mutation, just like her own, because it didn't affect them per se –it affected the people around them. Ororo said that Jimmy stayed in the mansion for at least a week before he was transferred to Moira MacTaggert's care. Even if he was touchable, he tottered most of the mutants in his proximity, rendered training sessions useless –and he just watched that one time. For a while Rogue could sympathize with him, that she pondered had she not run away, she could have been able to touch Jimmy herself, without her gloves –touch all her friends while he was in the room. But she still wouldn't be able to touch Logan, as he was one of the many weakened by being near the Leech.

"Moira said Jimmy was always quiet, but he didn't show any signs of depression..."

Typical Marie, she reprimanded herself, always thinking about getting around her fatal mutation. But Rogue couldn't help but think: was she actually better off than Jimmy had ever been? Or was she thinking this way because she managed to use her mutation to her advantage?

"Moira has been crying. She's blaming herself–"

"Perhaps I should have come back sooner. But the fact is, Jimmy is a young boy. He is bound to be unpredictably predictable. Was he in contact with any of his friends here?"

How can Jimmy make friends in a school full of people who were taught to affirm their mutations, when all he did was reduce them powerless human beings? No wonder he didn't find solace in his new home.

"Kitty calls, but..."

And he had no personal savior like she had Logan six years ago. He probably looked up to Kitty for helping him escape back then, but where was she now? In college, trying to make a life for herself. Once again, Rogue felt lucky to have had Logan in her life back then. Everything led to where she was today, even if the situation has drastically changed.

"Storm, if you would be so kind to assist me in Cerebro?"

"Of course, Charles."

Yes, she owed this to Logan, to Chuck, and everyone else. Maybe she'd get to use her new abilities, too. One last dance as an X-Man.

"Rogue, are you coming with us?" Storm asked when Chuck stepped out of the room.

Rogue nodded. "I'll be suiting up." Staring at the empty doorway, only one question played through her head.

Who would ever think that one day, Rogue would actually be grateful she was the girl with the poison skin?

"Bravo to your first lover's quarrel. Not so fun, is it?"

Logan growled at the other mutant. "Do I look like the whiney type, Scooter? Better get your eye checked; you mistook me for a mirror." Expect him to be trapped in the locker room with Scott while Chuck was in Cerebro.

Scott, however, was not threatened. He just smirked at Logan. "So it's true."

"Butt out of-" What, Logan thought, our relationship? He shook his head and zipped his suit up to his neck. After taking a breath, he tried to adjust the collar, feeling he was lacking air. "Just butt out. Shut the fuck up."

"You know," Scott said. "Char –Chuck told me something in passing…"

The sound of the pansy's voice was obviously hinting it had something to do with Rogue, which instantly made Logan freeze on the spot. Scott just combed his hair into Ken doll perfection (Barbie knowledge, thanks to Marie). The only word he could think of was 'dork'. "Dork."

"He said this would be Rogue's last mission with the X-Men."

Logan turned around so quickly, the swish of wind made Scott's bangs fall back over his visor. "The fuck?"

Scott clenched his jaw and pushed his hair away from his eyes, still unfazed. "I haven't talked to Roguey yet. Chuck said to keep it under wraps for now." He walked to the door and Logan followed him, obviously waiting for an explanation. "I don't know about you but I always knew she wasn't staying for long." He turned to Logan, his face serious. "You and Rogue… both of you are alike. Like you with your memories, she's willing to be alone if that's what it takes to get what she–"

But I'm right here, Logan answered, but all he could do was frown.

"Not you, you self-centered prick," Scott snapped, as if reading his thoughts. "Rogue's mutation is restricting, torturous. I can only imagine what kind of hell she goes through everyday. But somehow, life out on the road… changed her. Like me, like Charles, she's this new being."

Oh you have no idea.

"She needs to travel the world. She needs to have a new life where she is truly in control."

"But she's safe here…"

"Rogue can take care of herself and you know it," Scott said. "I think you're missing the point, Logan. She needs to find peace not... in you. We all know you're a whole different can of worms, and you're not really ready to reciprocate her feelings just yet."

Was it possible to suffer a stroke from information overload? These past few days have not been kind to him, especially where Rogue was concerned. Logan could only grumble, "Huh." But he can't let her go –even more so that she had the ability to literally fly away from him. The thought of living in the mansion without her was simply absurd and unacceptable. Once was enough, Marie.

"This may come as a surprise... but you're not stupid." Scott gave him an encouraging nod and Logan growled at him again. "But we've all moved on from the past in our own ways. Why can't you do the same?"

Logan sneered at him. "Is this about Jeannie?"

Scott easily scoffed, "No. I'm talking about you." He was even brave enough to push Logan's chest with his pointer and middle finger. "Move on from your fucking pedestal and get your fucking girl!"

Logan wanted to slice those fingers off, but Scott continued abruptly, "Get this through your thick skull, Neanderthal: she doesn't need you to be her hero anymore. Get over yourself already."

I don't need you anymore, Logan.

"Gay. You're a chatty Cathy." He doesn't agree with him right away, but Logan doesn't argue either. "With a dick. Dick."

"And you're a dense douche."

"Touché."

After Scott's unnecessary tirade of how he should deal with Rogue, Logan decided to retreat to the hangar while everyone else reviewed the details of Chuck's recent Cerebro update. He was still annoyed that Scott (and everyone else) knew there was not only conflict, but a particular change in his friendship with Marie. It felt like they were stars in a movie and they were watching in anticipation, What's next, What's next!?

The Blackbird wasn't ready yet, and feeling idle, Logan decided to go for a beer, when a leather-clad buxom beauty caught his eye. Out of the blue, he realized people could just go fuck themselves because he didn't really care what they thought. This place was seriously starting to rub off on him, making him care and shit. What he was interested, however, was Rogue. Sure, she frustrated the hell outta him, but he wanted to see her again. Touch her. All that leather… his mind wandered. Eyes up, boy.

Rogue was pulling on her gloves, singing softly while she had some earphones stuck in her ears. It was only natural that she squealed loudly when he gave that alluring swell of her ass a light squeeze. "What the fuck!" she yelled, and jumped around to face her offender. A deep flush on her face, her eyes flaring, she was obviously surprised to see him. "Logan!?"

Logan showed her his palms in surrender. "Nice to see you too, darlin'." He tried to keep himself from laughing at how angry and shy she looked at the same time. His hearing gave him the heads-up that the X-Men were approaching, but not for a few minutes. "Glad you're comin' with us."

"You're polite for a pervert," Rogue remarked, smoothing her butt where he pinched her. She was also clearly ignoring his efforts to be cute.

"I try," Logan said with a grin. "But you can say it's payback." The excitement got the best of him when she blushed even deeper. Her heart sped up, but she took a deep breath and reverted back to being nonchalantly pissed off at him. Shit. "Kid, Marie…" Stupid fuck, calling her 'kid' again! Rewind! As expected, she glowered at him and all he could do was scratch the back of his neck. "Sorry. It's out of habit and…"

"I know," Rogue said, shaking her head. She let out a deep breath again. "It's not that." Nibbling on her lower lip, Logan wanted to ask if she could do the same to his. "I don't want to talk about it, Logan. Not yet."

The lake. The embrace. Being naked and liking it. Aroused. Sexual tension. Logan gave her whole body a slow sweep with his eyes. From the tight ponytail with the ivory locks framing her pretty face, those ferocious eyes, her cute nose, sensual lips, the beginning of a mouth-watering cleavage in the V of her leather suit, the evident flare of her hips, down to her boots. Was it really difficult to see her as a woman, so fuckin' sexy and gorgeous? Nah. Easy as pie. "Y'know me, Marie. Not much for talkin' either."

Rogue nodded, and she was about to turn away, but Logan trapped her in his arms and just as she scowled up at him, he planted one on her.

Not a sissy, Logan knew fireworks were out of the picture. So it had to be missiles. Atomic explosions. Land mines and bombs. Mushroom clouds and molten lava. Fine, maybe he was exaggerating because she just gaped at him while he raped her mouth, but the heat he felt was unmistakable. But he felt it again, that spark of arousal emanating from her, making him suck harder on her lips, and as he licked her tongue again –he felt himself shoved a couple of meters away from her.

Stupefied from their first kiss, Logan's hazel eyes only widened when she zoomed back in front of him, pulled his leather collar upwards to get him up on his feet. Boy, was she pissed. Her chest was heaving with tension and she looked like she was ready to decapitate him.

Maybe she didn't feel the same way?

Logan cleared his throat in discomfort, partly because of arousal. Damn she's hot when she's mad. Her lips were swollen too, he noticed. Fuck. She tasted sweet. Maybe this transition wasn't going to be hard as he thought.

"I'm not Jean, Logan, or like any of those other women you've had in your life," Rogue said through clenched teeth. "I made a slip last night in your room and I didn't mean to. Do you want me to say sorry, is that it? Or a repeat performance?" She looked like she was either going to cry or explode. "Do you think it was easy, saying that I," she choked. "That I don't need you?"

Aw, fuck. "No, god dammit, Marie–"

"Sexing me up isn't just going to do it, OK!?" Rogue screamed. "God knows we could screw each other's brains out, but that's not what I'm after. I'm not fucking around with you. I'm not a slut. I'm not going to open my legs for you just because you think it's hot."

Sense and shame effectively softened Logan's engorged dick. "That's not what–"

"You're taking the easy way out of this, bucko." Rogue pushed him away and set her feet back on the floor. She sighed. "After we have sex, then what? You're gonna feel so guilty then run away?" Groaning, she shook her head again. "So much for not talking, huh? You horndog." After giving him a disappointed look, she turned her back to him and boarded the plane.

Just in time, the other X-Men entered the hangar.

Logan went mechanical after that, following obediently when Scott ordered him to get his ass in the plane. There was an empty seat beside Rogue, and it seemed like Iceman was ready to take it, but Logan pushed Colossus into taking the spot. Taking the seat across her, Logan couldn't help but sneer at Bobby, "I'd rather sit beside you than look at your face." The young mutant glared at him, ready to snap back, but kept his mouth shut nonetheless.

Damn. Wolverine growled. You have the worst timing.

I tried and look where it got me?

That's the problem, you idiot –you tried. You're still undecided about this.

Looking at Marie, Logan sighed. She was still infuriated, but she looked genuinely gloomy. Clearly, she shared Wolverine's sentiment. Hell, he was even upset with himself.

That was one helluva kiss though, wasn't it?

Next time, bub. Wolverine gave him a tap on the back. You'll do better. Don't fucking mess it up.

I'll try. I swear I'll try.

You don't try, motherfucker. You do your best.

Before the kiss, Rogue had been trying her best to distract herself from the awkwardness that would happen between them. Sure, she didn't expect him to pay attention to her booty and it irritated her, but hey –he was still Logan. He was an impulsive, sex on legs, man. He had good intentions, but his executions sucked. Not that she didn't enjoy their lip-lock, because she did, she did! It's not that she was a choosy beggar, but it felt so weirdlyforced. Strange, almost.

Rogue could have taken the easy way out, kissed him back, had a quickie by the Blackbird. It would have been so sexy, so hot, but she couldn't let herself do it. They were a mess now, but she knew that what she had with Logan was special. However, though she had forever with him, rushing would result in sheer catastrophe. All things rushed end up in the trash.

What the hell was Logan thinking anyway, kissing her like that? She knew they weren't on the same boat yet. His 'trying' was definitely appreciated, especially last night, but getting all physical wasn't going to get them anywhere –at least, not the place she hoped for the two of them. They needed to take their time; they needed to figure things out the right way if they were going to make this last. Forever was a long time, and she didn't want to start on the wrong foot.

Rogue stuck her tongue out at Scott when he glanced at her for what felt like the nth time –you'd think he would have better sense, co-piloting the plane. Of course he knew what was going on even though they didn't talk about it. She tried ignoring Logan though, as pitiful as he looked as he wallowed in awkward guilt. Serves him right.

But then again, he didn't look that guilty –because who were they kidding? She enjoyed that kiss as much as he did. And she knew they would have so much more, but not today, no.

Nobody told her it would be easy, waiting for him, be he really made it so hard. Figures, he wasn't the regular hard-headed mutant.

Soon, Rogue hoped. Maybe things would be better soon.

The new 'besties' Scott and Rogue were normally exasperating. Having to watch the two of them interact in the small confines of the plane was another feat. Scott kept sending Rogue these concerned glances, and she halted his interest when she stuck her cute, deep pink tongue at him.

Fuck, that tongue. Logan hastily thought of something else other than specific parts of her body. He still felt a bit jittery, not just because of their kiss, but he felt as if they entered a whole new level in their, ah… relationship. They were capable of intimacy, and it made him all kinds of edgy, because it felt so right.

After half an hour, when the Blackbird landed, Cyclops in leader mode told the rest of the team to get ready. The man pulled another one on him by teaming him up with Rogue. He kept his annoyed face on, but deep inside, he felt rather eager to work with her. Scooter reminded them what they should do again, which Logan interpreted as 'tear the fucking lab down and get Jimmy the fuck out'.

Before everyone hopped off the plane, Scott called his attention, "Logan. Stay outside. Do you understand?"

"I can take care of myself, damn it," Logan snarled and headed out. I'm not a fuckin' pansy, he gnarled to himself, dashing towards the laboratory guised as an abandoned building. His senses alerted him that Rogue was hovering low behind him. He was a bit thankful that she could fly. Both of them were in charge of making sure that the perimeter was secure before the team went in. He easily took down a couple of guards before they even found out he was there. Rogue let him do all the work, and he was relieved that she didn't need to dirty her hands with pieces of shit. He heard her message Scott to start moving.

After just five minutes, Rogue tapped Logan's shoulder. "Do you want to go rogue?"

"Why?" Logan frowned at her when he saw how bored she look and the undeniable mischief dancing in her eyes. "What do you wanna do?"

"I don't know why they didn't plan it out, but I want to take out surveillance. What do you say?"

At least she's taking to me. Might as well agree. "The cameras? But–" Logan stopped talking when she put a finger on her lips. She leaned closer against the wall and he nodded. They were actually on the other side of the wall where the stakeout room was based.

Rogue appeared to be listening intently. "The team is up front, busting in. We're going to make things easier by doing this. Ready?"

What? Ready for what? "What do you plan–"

Rogue giggled, flew away from the wall. Just as he was about to ask her where she was going, she lunged towards the wall and broke it down with her clenched fist. Safe to say he was still surprised she could pack a punch like that, and it seems even the people inside were still gaping at the sudden intrusion... and the human-sized orifice on the wall.

"GET THEM!" one of the soldiers eventually shouted, and it made the two mutants tick. Easily enough, Logan started wrecking the place while Rogue hacked the controls.

"I knew it," Rogue said, checking the cameras. "We don't need Kitty. Why phase when you can break through walls, right?"

When the last soldier fell down with a BLAG, Logan casually stood behind her and chuckled. "You're still bitter about the midget, babe?"

"We're into pet names now, sugar?"

Sugar. That sounded right in his ears, but Logan didn't show it, just raised a brow. He was about to flirt back when she gasped, pointing at one of the monitors. A group of soldiers were readying for assault.

"I've got a feeling those are cure shots. Stay here."

Logan didn't even have time to process what she said. The next thing he knew, she was clobbering through the walls again, the consecutive loud, forceful bangs effectively surprising the soldiers, and finally toppled them down in debris along the way. Her excellent use of strength irrefutably surprised even the X-Men as well, as he heard Scott yell, "WHAT THE FUCK, ROGUE!?"

"What?" he heard Rogue ask innocently.

Logan climbed out of the smashed walls. His teammates were still talking. Everyone was surprised of Rogue's strength and flight. He heard them walk along the hallways, and just as Colossus bellowed, "I found Jimmy!"

Rogue's scream pierced the air.

"ROGUE!"

"MARIE!"

When Rogue came back to reality, she wondered what she was doing in a log cabin. The blazing fire in the hearth made her feel warm and homey. To her right was Logan, sitting on a wooden chair beside her bed. He looked so handsome with his wind-chaffed hair, red flannel shirt and his eyes filled with so much affection. Gentle. "Logan…" she croaked, "Where are we?" As comfortable as she felt, remnants of panic from their previous mission made her hands sweat. "Is Jimmy alright? Is it over?" When Logan turned away in guilt, she frowned. "How long was I out?"

Instead of telling her about Jimmy, or where they were, Logan faced her again, his eyes downcast. "I'm so sorry, Marie."

"What for?" she asked, because she didn't care, really. Rogue knew he didn't even have to ask. They would always forgive each other –that went without saying. She shook her head, confused. What the hell was she on?

"I shouldn't have…" Logan paused, as if unable to continue. "I shouldn't have kept it from you."

Kept what? Rogue didn't understand. She felt the fear playing xylophone on her spine. "What?" She felt so different, so perplexed –there was a feeling she couldn't shake off, a nagging suspicion that something wasn't right. "What are you talking about? You're scaring me."

Logan reached for her hands and clasped it in his own. He stared at her palms and fingers that Rogue wondered if he was memorizing her skin. Despite the soft caress, Rogue felt dread fill her being as Logan whispered, "We're inside your head, Marie."

The moment he heard her scream, Logan leapt faster from one room to another, following the path of broken walls, but before he could see anything else, Scott's firm voice screamed, "ICEMAN, STOP WOLVERINE! NOW!"

Bobby threw a huge ice popsicle towards him, adequately knocking him down. When Logan got back on his feet, clearly enraged, he already found a thick layer of ice between him and the rest of the X-Men. Kept him from Marie. Unleashing his claws with a loud growl, he started to pound against the frozen barrier. After only a few punches, he staggered backwards. "W-what the f-fuck is going on…?" He felt his entire body wobble. Red lights flashed in alarm in his head when he noticed that his healing was working double time as he took steps away from the cold, crystal wall. Fuck, he thought. Only one other person, aside from Magneto, could do this to him without the need for touch. The Leech.

Logan couldn't even understand half of what they were talking about on the other side. "Rogue!" he screamed, trying to stand up, but the heavy ache on his entire body was starting to disable him. "Where's Marie?"

"Logan," Scott's voice interrupted his worries and pain. He sounded steady, but the nervousness was evident in his tone. "We'll need to transport Jimmy back to the school."

"Marie, what about Marie? Is she hurt?" he wheezed.

"She's fine, Logan," Scott placated him. "She's just… We think being near Jimmy destabilized her control."

"Scott, let me out, I swear to god–"

"She's physically fine, Logan, but we have to go. We're going to get back here for you guys as soon as we can. But for now we have to set the two of them apart. Lee… Jimmy's mutation is driving the voices in her head in a rage."

What? Oh, Marie. "If anything happens to her–"

"LOGAN, FOCUS! WILL YOU BE ALRIGHT!?"

"YES, GOD DAMMIT, NOW HURRY UP AND LEAVE!"

Rogue tried to get up from the bed and leave, panic and disbelief wrecking her thoughts, but Logan forcefully pushed her back on the bed. She plopped back down on the soft cushion with her eyes wide in shock. "It was you…" she said. She started to hyperventilate. It was him that pushed her, pushed her out of the crazy tempest in her mind two weeks ago.Logan was the one who pushed her, told her to trust Emma's voice. He knew everything. The emotions stirred within her, making her focus crumble and her hands tremble. Her throat felt chick with tears and distress. "W-why? Why didn't you tell me? You were here, all along…"

Logan let out a deep breath and pulled her into his arms. He wiped the tears from her eyes and cleared the hair from her face. "I couldn't, darlin'. I didn't want to overcrowd your head. I know you're always having a hard time… And you needed to live on your own. Without me."

"But why was Wolverine…"

"Him I find so hard to control," he admitted with a sigh.

Marie sniffed. "What about now? Why are we here? Am I dead?"

"No, no," Logan answered, shaking his head. "But I'm not letting you out just yet."

"What?" Marie trusted him, but she felt nervous with the way he said it. "Why not?"

Logan locked his hazel eyes into hers. "Because you need to get rid of me first, Marie." He nodded, resigned. "You need to kill me."

When Logan heard the Blackbird take off, he tore through the ice and rushed to where Rogue was. The place was a wreck, fallen soldiers everywhere, broken concrete, but at the end of hall was another gate of ice. The small room was sealed tight, but he could see the faint outline of Rogue's form on the other side. Before he approached, he felt a strong grip on his shoulder.

"They had to do it," Colossus' voice said. "Or she might lose control."

Logan nodded in understanding, though it pained him to see her trapped in there like she was in an asylum. He took another step forward. "Can you leave us here?"

For a moment Logan thought Peter would say no, but the 6'6 mutant let him go. "I will wait outside. Please do not hesitate to call me if anything…"

"Go," Logan said with finality, and the moment Colossus was out of earshot, he heard her speak. She was whispering something barely audible –if it weren't for his feral senses, he would have missed it.

"Come on inside, Logan," she murmured.

Logan knew it. She wasn't out of control completely. If she did, she would have drained everyone dry. But no. She was simply waiting for him, rather, baiting him. He felt a cold shudder faze him when he heard her again.

"Come over here, Logan… We need to kill you."

That wasn't his Marie, Logan thought at once, but mindlessly began pounding on the ice. I need to save her. Rogue began to laugh deeply. The ice started to thin with his efforts, tinted pink with his blood. It was supposed to hurt, his knuckles, but he didn't feel it. His claws were on auto-destroy mode because he had to get her out. He couldn't lose her. He kept on hearing her talking to herself. It made him angrier because he knew how much she hated it, when the voices took over. It broke her heart, and it broke his, too.

Logan growled with all his might as he gave the iced obstacle one last thump, and like a brittle brick wall, it broke off with a puff down on the floor. As his knuckles started to heal, he lifted his gaze to look at her, and there she was in all her glory.

Rogue was floating in the middle of the room, her darkened eyes gleaming at him, her long mane swirling in the air like dark, pointed tentacles. She reminded him of his dream at once –all heat, danger and Rogue in one fatal mix.

"Marie, darlin'…"

"Why hello, Wolverine," her voice reverberated around the room, tickling his ears as it traveled in his head in different strained tones. It wasn't just her, he knew. They were a mix of two women, two men –one guarded while the other was wild, three teenage boys, and a little girl's soft whimper. It was enough to strike fear in Logan, which was saying much, that his last lethal encounter with the destroyer Phoenix felt like a walk in the park. It wasn't just her appearance or her voice that made his blood run cold –it was the familiarity. He was familiar with this kind of outrage, pending doom and losing her all over again. "We've been waiting for you."

Logan remained fastened on the floor, but his fists clenched and his nostrils flared. "Marie! Bring her back to me!"

"For what? For you!?" She asked ferociously, scornfully. "I had to lose my life for you. I had to die because of you. You are my family, you are my friend, my enemy! YOU! You don't even love me back! You are despicable filth!"

"Marie," he pleaded, moving in closer. Logan knew he had to believe that he was enough, at least enough to make a connection to her. Because it's who they were, right? They were friends, they were… She trusted him. She loved him. That had to be enough.

But not, She mocked him, "You think it's always about you, Logan."

Logan couldn't lift his feet off the floor. His whole frame was immobile, petrified. It made his entire body itch with soreness and impatience. It dawned on him that she was channeling Magneto's powers. The heat melting him was probably Pyro's. But he had to push forward and see this through. I have to move. I have to get to her. "Let. Her. Go." Was he bleeding? He could smell his blood.

"You deserve to die," She said, as if she had decided his fate. "She/I deserve(s) to suffer."

His heart pounded like a loud drum between his ears. This was it, Logan thought, as he watched her approach him ever so slowly. Time was suspended as she drew closer, the picturesque vision of death, and despite the voices, the crazed eyes devoid of her lovely browns, her beautiful face was still Marie. His Marie.

Logan didn't even recoil when she kissed him. Because I would die for you, Marie. Even if third time's a charm, I'd still die for you. Her wet tongue slithered across his lips, tasting. Logan closed his eyes. I think I love you more than I should, kid. Would you forgive me for that? She cupped his face with her bare, hot palms, and he wanted to breathe out at least her name, but he couldn't. Marie, I'm in love with you.

It was too late, and only one thought raced through his mind:

What a way to go.

"Why!?" Marie asked, embracing him. The tears fell on her cheeks and she didn't want to stop crying. "I don't want you to go. Oh Logan, I… I always wanted you to be here with me, but you've been just quiet all this time?" She shook her head, pulled on his shirt. "Don't leave me, Logan. It's always been you… always!"

"No, baby." Logan looked so torn, he tried pushing her away, but he pulled her back to him just to kiss her hands, her hair, her cheeks. "You have to do this. You can do this. Having me around here… it's punishment for both of us. All the other voices, they're here too, but they're out in the storm. They're taking control of you now, darlin'."

My lover, Marie thought, feeling herself so tall and yet so small in his arms. She pressed her face closer against his chest. The usual warmth that was there was bland and cold. But she still felt like they were lovers. "But you'll save me, right, Logan?"

"No, baby," Logan said, trying to push her away again. This time though, he smiled at her affectionately. "You've got to save yourself."

"I love you, Logan."

"And I love you, Marie," he said, gazing at her lips, then her eyes. "I always have. But you don't need me anymore."

I don't need you anymore, Logan. Her heart broke. "But Logan…"

Logan tried to be firm, she can tell. His grip on her shoulders hardened and she felt herself bruising. "Can't you see, Marie? I'm part of them. I'm part of the storm… your tempest. I'm the only friendliest face you see. But I'm…" He looked struggling with his entire being, like he was dying. "I'm keeping you here, baby. That's why you've got to let me go."

Marie felt the hot tears brim her eyes. "But you're the only one I have! I can't, Logan, don't ask me to!"

But Logan was persistent, strong. He pushed her to her feet, towards the door. "You don't need me anymore, Marie." He tried to look like he was mad at her, but she knew he was just trying to convince her, trying to make her see. "The real me, baby. He's… he's waiting outside. He wants you. He may need some time, but–"

"No, Logan." She didn't run back to the bed, but she didn't move from her place on the floor either. She crossed her arms across her chest. "No."

"Get out, Marie," Logan warned. His claws slid out slowly. "Or I'll have to force you out of here again myself."

"One condition," she said.

"Anything."

"Kiss me."

Logan nodded, and fell down the floor on his knees with a loud thud. It made the entire cabin quake. He looked yielding, just like he did by the lake. "Please."

Marie padded to him, tilted his face up to meet hers. "You always knew, didn't you?" She bit her lip. "You always knew."

"I always knew." Hazel eyes shimmering, Logan nodded. Wolverine nodded. "Now kill me–"

But he didn't have to say it again, because Marie gave him the kiss of death.

The squeaky clean hospital smell of the med lab brought Logan back to consciousness, and yet again, he knew he abhorred the odor as much as he hated warm beer. The lights, thankfully, were dimmed. Nothing was hooked on him –as far as he could tell with eyes closed, that is. The only consolation in this place was Marie's scent. It made him want to go back to sleep, but he wanted to be awake as much as he could because he didn't want to worry her.

When he had regained mental awareness, Logan knew she had been waiting by his side all along. The faint traces of vanilla was everywhere in the room, mixed with something salty, something he could only identify as tears. He hated to know she cried, but as much as he wanted to comfort her, he was only as good as a vegetable for now. He wanted to hear her sing all of a sudden –even humming would do. Instead, he heard her leave the room. Marie paced outside for a couple of minutes, and then reentered the room. Her heart was beating in a steadfast rhythm, but her breathing came in short intakes, giving him the confirmation that she was actually nervous.

Logan wanted to look at her with his eyes, ask her so many things about what happened back at the lab, but judging where he was now, all he could do was be thankful that both of them survived. He smiled to himself with that thought. They were such a good combination–

"Logan, did you know that Sabretooth was your brother?" Marie asked, her soft yet nervous voice permeated his thoughts. He wanted to hold her close, but for now her voice was akin to a thick quilt on a cold winter's day. Say somethin' else, he bid her, somethin' sweet like you usually do. He didn't even bother to comprehend what she just told him, but she continued, "He knew so much about you and your past. His name was Victor Creed."

You think I didn't know you absorbed him? Logan wanted to ask her. I could smell him on you the moment you returned to that filthy motel with One-Eye. But I didn't want to say anything because I'll just sound like a disappointed 'friend'. But he was glad that she was talking, although something about this one-sided conversation was making him a bit perturbed.

"I…" Marie started again, her voice shaking. "I don't know if you can ever forgive me, but I… I killed him, Logan."

Why'd you do that, darlin'? Logan wondered. Why'd you hurt yourself like that?

Marie started to stutter something about working for Mystique. A woman named Danvers. She was never forced. He couldn't fully grasp her words all of a sudden, but it made sense to him in bits and pieces. Touch. Lonely. Love. When he heard her sniffle, Logan felt so useless, being unable to comfort her. However, he didn't expect her to say the following words.

"And you know why I feel so terrible?" she asked his unresponsive body. "I did it because I love you." The smell of her tears doubled. "I love you with all my heart. And I'm such a fuckin' mess because I don't even feel sorry for the things I did. And what happened… I don't want to take it back."

Marie, you don't have to…

"I love you so much, Logan, that it kills me –even though technically it can't. I guess I finally understand you now, not only because I share your memories. It's because I know. There's this indescribable ache in my heart that won't go away. I can heal like you, but I can't make the pain go away, Logan." She paused, wiped her tears. "Maybe it's guilt, hate…" She took a deep breath and exhaled. "I don't know anymore."

Marie, please. Just wait for me. Once I get up–

"I've had you in my head for the longest time, and you know what my Logan told me? He said that you knew. Even then –you knew you were going to love me too."

I do, baby. I do. Logan felt his heart expand in his chest. I love you.

More tears and sobbing. "And I'm glad, so glad. To hear you say that, even just in my head, it's just… It makes me feel like I made the right choice, you know?"

You did it for love, Marie. I can never take that against you. You and me against the world now, darlin'.

Marie sighed. "All I know is that right now… I can't be with you here. I can't wait here, watching you until you figure it out."

Why do you sound like you're leaving? Marie. You don't have to go. Don't go. Let's figure it out together.

"Logan, you still haven't transitioned… Not the way we need you to. Wolverine knows it. Logan in my head knows it. You said you're done fighting, but it's still not enough. You're still resisting. And you know what?" She squeezed his hand. "I understand."

Understand? Understand what, Marie?

"For now, sugar, I'm… I'm setting you free. Maybe somewhere down the line, we'd find each other again. Please don't look for me now, because I can't face you, knowing that you know I've always got forever. That I'm always just waiting." Marie let out a chuckle –a bitter one.

What? You're leaving me? I don't want to be free, Marie. I want you. I need you.

"I know what you're thinking. You want me to change my mind but… no. I have to leave while I can, before I kill you with my love, sugar." Her voice became deeper, serious, further from the crying young woman she had been only a few moments ago. "I cannot not have you, and I will have you."

Logan mentally shuddered in anticipation with her tone. I want you so bad, baby. Stop this nonsense right now. But she can't read minds, can she?

"You have to want my love, Logan. You have to need it, feel it burn through you, consume your entire soul, eat you alive from the inside." He heard her stand up, her breathing in control –as if she never shed a tear. "But you're not ready for this yet." In other words, what she was saying was… You're not ready for forever.

I am, Marie, Logan yelled in protest in his head. Let me show you how much. I love you, damn it. I just can't fuckin' move! Fury flared in him when he heard the door open.

"Goodbye, Logan."

Hearing her say it weakened him more than the Leech, Magneto or even Rogue herself had ever been capable of. A few minutes passed by and Logan still waited for her to return, but all that was there was silence.

Never goodbye, Marie. You never say goodbye.

"You do know he'll be hounding your cute ass once he wakes up, right?"

"I doubt it." Rogue frowned at him. "Chuck told me his mind was awake so I know he understood everything I told him. And believe me, Scott. No one –even Logan, in his right mind, would come after an obsessed woman. He's better off without me." For now, she added, but it was too embarrassing to admit, even if she just ratted out her craziness to Scott. But with that look he gave her, it was clear he understood.

"Whatever, Roguey," Scott snickered. "You know Wolverine doesn't care. I'll bet you Bobby's gay that Logan even likes you doing that 'crazy love you eyes' at him."

"Bobby is not gay," Rogue said with a roll of eyes. "He's just… not the macho type. Besides, isn't he with Kitty?"

"Yeah sure, for now," Scott shrugged. "But long distance relationships never work out, which leads me to the point that Logan would follow you basically anywhere you plan to run off to."

Not when I put a magnetic hold down on him at least until after I've left the mansion. "Seriously, Scotty. Your interest in Dame Tu Amore has made you into a senseless romantic it's really making me sick. Thank goodness I'm leaving, right?"

When she closed the guest room behind her, Scott shook his head as he followed her. "Its useless, isn't it? Now I feel like we're in Room 6 again, you leaving me. Worse, I feel like a kid whose parents are separating."

"Scott, you're really something," Rogue mocked, but before she can turn away, Scott leaned towards her and gave her loud smooch on the lips. Flabbergasted, all she could do was stare at him. They gaped at each other as they stood on the hallway. "Fuck. Why do I feel like I got kissed by my brother?" It was the fee, she supposed, for trusting Scott to explain her whereabouts/reasons for leaving to the entire mansion. "Ugh."

"Whatever, Roguey," Scott said, pulling her towards the mansion entrance. "Just call once you get there, OK?"

This time, Rogue knew that she would.

"MARIE!" Logan bellowed a few hours later, as if waking from a long nightmare. He started wheezing, but after a few deep inhalations, his breathing returned to normal. He felt like he had jetlag and a hangover. He rubbed his eyes and scratched the top of his head. "Aw, fuck." Did he wrestle with Magneto or something?

"Logan?" a deep baritone voice asked from his right. There stood Hank in all his blue fur, his glasses perched on his eyes. He held a folder in his hands, gave it another glance before sitting on a stool in front of him. "How are you faring today?"

"Rogue?" Logan bit out, clearly irritated.

"Why, she is alright." Hank smiled at him, giving him thumbs up. "Scott's assumptions were correct: being with Jimmy shattered whatever control Rogue had over her mutation. Thankfully, they had enough sense to separate the two before she lost further control… Although, of course, that is keeping what happened to you out of the equation. But it seems that her mutation is continuously evolving…"

"But is she ok now?" Logan interrupted him, not quite interested in hearing theories and whatnot. He cricked his neck; that felt good. "Don't answer that. It's coming back to me now."

Goodbye, Logan.

Fuck. Logan was already on his feet.

"Logan, wait!" the furry blue mutant called out as he made his way outside the med lab. "I need to make sure you're a hundred percent OK!"

But Logan just growled at him and used his sense of smell to track down Charles, who, thankfully, was enjoying a tea party out in the gardens all by his lonesome. "Chuck!"

Immediately, Chuck set down his cup of tea and shook his head as he gazed up at the feral. "I apologize, Logan, but she blocked me out the moment she left–"

"No. Marie I will find," Logan muttered confidently. "I need you to find someone else."

Chuck breathed out a sigh of relief and grinned at him. "I might just have to start charging you extra…" When Logan didn't laugh, he frowned. "Who is it then?"

Only one bitch was on his mind right now: "Mystique."

A coupe of hours later, one would think the time out on the road would have given Logan some peace of mind. Instead of a thoughtless drive, he spent the entire trip trying not to get a speeding ticket, kill anyone accidentally along the road, because he was livid. He needed to lash out at something, or rather, someone specifically with yellow orbs and slithery teal skin.

The fact that Marie wouldn't age a day really exasperated him, but Logan knew he was going to chase after her no matter what. Because hell, he was the Wolverine and he loved a good hunt. The only reason he was willing to postpone seeing her at once was that he could not decide what to do with her first: argue, kiss, touch, fuck, spank, talk? He was placated with her monologue while he was 'asleep', though he had a badgering suspicion that she had something to do with his extended stay at the med lab. But there was more anticipation to see her than fight with her, of course.

When Marie told him she was most probably immortalized like he was because of absorbing Sabretooth, Logan was astounded. He had his suspicions, yes, but finally hearing it from her, he knew denial was no longer an option. He couldn't just forget or ignore that truth anymore than he can ignore that they weren't supposed to be just friends. Thinking of Sabretooth though, Logan had always had a feeling that he was related to the feral. Acknowledging him as his brother was fucked up as hell, but it was actually a sigh of relief on his part.

For as long as Logan can remember, his probably immortality had depressed him like fuck. He drank his ass to kingdom come and did everything he could to push and push his limits, but Lady Luck was in love with him for letting him survive all his conquests, despite his healing factor. Although no matter how he saw it, outliving everyone he knew scared the shit out of him. He couldn't really invest in relationships or establish roots, because he had the feeling that in the past he tried and failed miserably. It left him in his own brand of doldrums and it turns out that the one person who could relate was good as a dried prune.

Now though, with Rogue in the picture, it put things in a different perspective. Instead of wallowing in grief for her sake and his, Logan wanted to be there for her –not only because he wished to help her deal and cope, but he was truthfully excited to finally explore that Pandora's Box with Marie. It was enough to make his dick hard just as it was enough to put a smile on his face. He wasn't saying that he was glad the mutation of eternal youth happened to Marie, but he couldn't imagine being stuck with anyone else but her.

Other than that, there was still outrage in his soul.

Logan knew he had to do something, anything before reuniting with Marie. So now, Mystique was his priority, just so he can punish the mutant for causing his mate internal pain and suffering. All because of her stupid, albeit effective plan, Marie had almost lost her mind, which was a big no-no in Logan's dictionary. Though, sure, Marie gained control over her mutation because of what happened, it was an entirely different matter altogether. Fine, maybe there was no sense in killing the woman, but he felt the need to punish her.

Or maybe, Logan just wanted to hear it straight from Mystique's mouth, that Rogue was really going to be with him forever. In a vague sense, he needed answers, answers that can push the fears out of his mind.

To his surprise, Logan found the shapeshifter in a seedy bar without her signature cerulean-hued skin, only nursing a bottle of Jack Daniels. He observed that she drank her whiskey slowly, as if taking her time. The usual self-assured, haughty mutant did not move an inch from her seat when he stepped in her line of sight, giving him the impression that she had been expecting him for quite some time. Initially he thought he would either smother or cuss her to death when he saw her, but only one word came from his lips, "Why?"

"It's poetic justice, don't you think?" Mystique asked slowly, staring at the dark amber liquid in her glass, then at his hazel eyes. "It can't get any more perfect than this. It's mystical but our links to each other are well-orchestrated by the Moirai."

The goddesses of fate. Logan didn't bother to remember why he knew about that, but he was a bit thrown when he found himself marginally captivated by the way Mystique spoke in hushed tones. She wasn't drunk, but she was definitely different, as if this was the first time they've actually met. In a sense, it sort of was, considering he wasn't stabbing her just to see if her blood was blue. They were not adversaries now, and Logan lost all the urge to kill her, especially when she looked so disillusioned with life. He didn't even mind when she started to speak again.

"Fancy this: Victor Creed asked his lover to find a way to end his life and she agreed. Then the lover beseeched the powerful Rogue for help. With his death, Victor gave her his mutation, which somehow paved way for this striking ending: his immortality served as his last gift to his only brother, giving him the eternal lover in the form of Marie, who –pay attention, has been pining for said brother the moment she laid eyes on him in that horrid cage. A cage, mind you, that is so symbolic in ways you can only imagine." Mystique smiled, satisfied with her story. "It's my ultimate mythology; you were the binding thread, the key to its lovely success."

Logan refused to acknowledge the way she narrated what happened like it was a beautiful tale, simply because a big part of him wanted to believe her. He wanted to feel a connection to Victor Creed, owe him thanks or bury his knuckles on his face, bus all he kept thinking about was Marie. Marie was really going to be forever. His forever. He forgot for a moment that he was at the bar with Mystique, of all people. "Where does that leave you?" he asked the sullen woman.

"Alone, but fulfilled," Mystique replied, pouring the glass a drink. She pushed it in his direction. "Drink with me, will you?" She smiled seductively when he took a step closer and took the glass from the table, while she raised the bottle to her own lips. "I can finally die in peace."

Logan knew it was never an easy feat to reach that point for anyone these days. Tipping the glass while looking in her eyes, he said, "Cheers."

The moment Logan entered the kitchen, the words sprouted from his lips, "Ro, I need a ride." He didn't feel apologetic that it was the first thing he said to the barely-awake staff enjoying their morning cup of coffee.

Ororo almost choked on her warm drink. "What?"

Logan wasn't going to pretend. With a shrug, he answered her. "Neet to get my adamantium ass to Canada."

The weather witch narrowed her eyes at him. "The Bird runs on gas. Gas costs money. I don't want to abuse our spending power." She sounded serious, but she was obviously humoring him. Her usual coffee-buddy/bedmate Kurt even snickered. When Logan only responded with a glare, she put her mug down. "She's not a child, Logan."

Everyone in the entire mansion knew how easy it was to fall into a sarcastic argument with him, but Logan just nodded. "I know that, Storm." When his colleague just looked at him in fascination, he avoided the knowing look in her face by turning to the only blue mutant in the room. "Can you just bamf me to Canada?"

Instead of answering him, Kurt turned to his white-haired goddess with pleading eyes. "Mine shahtsi…"

"Kurt, now is not the time to use your German on me."

"I'll take you," someone piped in all of a sudden. All eyes turned to Scott who made his way to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. "Just give me a few minutes to get ready." They heard him grumble about missing an episode.

Logan inwardly rejoiced and breathed a sigh of relief, but he just grunted in gratitude and retrieved his duffel bag from his room. He didn't even have to tell Chuck that he was leaving, maybe for good this time, but he had a feeling that the telepath knew what was really going on. (Just like Ororo did, and everyone else.)

A few minutes my ass, Logan wanted to hiss when Scott strolled in an hour later. He didn't want to argue with the only man who could take him to Rogue as soon as possible. Now, he actually wanted to be nice and polite. Scratching the back of his neck, he cleared his throat. "Uh, Scott, I... Just wanna thank y–"

"I'm not doing it for you," the mutant waved him off from the pit. After flicking a few switches, the Blackbird thrummed to life. "I'm not doing it for her either though."

Logan rolled his eyes when Scott told him to fasten his seatbelt, but when he saw that his personal pilot was trying to hold back a grin, he couldn't help but chuckle. "Are we actually entertaining you, Scooter? If yes, you should pay up."

"Give me an update, ok?" Scott remarked with a smile. "I hope you guys get in touch though. All of us would miss you. Even you and your hairy ass."

"Been peeking at the showers, eh, One-Eye?"

"Don't flatter yourself; you're not my type."

Logan let out a laugh. When Scott went into aviator mode, the clouds didn't do much to distract him from the jitters in his stomach. Since waking this morning, his body had went into automatic, eager to leave the mansion. With no one to talk to, his mind easily recalled what happened after seeing Mystique. Last night, Logan had been as serene as a still river when he slept in one of the guest rooms, burying himself in the Marie-drenched sheets.

Wolverine's complacency was due to the fact that his inner feral knew where Rogue was all along. Somehow, he did what Logan found hard to accomplish –trust Rogue that she can take care of herself. His inner feral was even more at peace to acknowledge the fact that she was, indeed, his missing other half.

Logan's only dream last night had been a conversation with the beast dwelling in his psyche.

That's why you gotta start treatin' me with respect, Wolverine said reproachfully. I'm not just some animal, not just an emergency hound dog.

Was Wolverine actually scolding him? Logan wondered, a bit distraught.

Stop separatin' us, bub. You're only makin' us go crazy with what you're doin'. If you can't stop this shit, I might not be able to help you. You wouldn't be able to help our mate, dammit.

Logan flinched. I just can't. You're too much. You–

I'm YOU.

Somehow, then and there, Logan woke up, and knew that from now on, he was going to have to start trusting himself. It was a peculiar yet unexpected epiphany, but for once, he didn't want to doubt what just happened.

Almost an hour later, Scott landed the plane. He opened the entrance for Logan. "I'll drop you off here so you can rent yourself a ride or something." He shrugged. "I figured you'd also want to surprise her."

Logan snickered. "You're thinking in advance; I like it."

"Unless you want me to puke on your jacket, you better stop flirting with me."

"I guess I'll see you around, Scooter."

"Just take care of her, Logan," Scott replied. When Logan made his way down the steps, he called out, "I want pictures of babies and I have to be the godfather, you hear?!"

Logan suddenly felt like his face was on fire as he threw his head back at the other mutant. "Good grief, Scott, you're thinking WAY ahead!" He could hear Scott laughing even as the plug door shut close. Quickly pacing backwards, Logan watched as the Blackbird lifted off the ground and sped away into the sky. His senses picked up on the movement of the bustling city nearby. Fishing for the rolls of cash in his jacket's inner pocket, he mumbled, "Now, to get myself that damn ride."

Rogue didn't know what to do when Karl told her that the bar would be closing that night. There would be no show, he said, but she knew he was just angry at her for skipping out for more than a week. But the man could only refuse the pretty lady for so long, and offered her job back to her in less than a few minutes. Her guitar was still in safe hands, and she eagerly practiced before leaving the place. She even gave Koren, the band vocalist, a hug before heading back to her motel. Hell, she even winked at the drummer who told her she needed to shed the 'Goth look'.

Rogue returned at Karl's only for her guitar, but she decided to stick around for a few days before heading to Anchorage. Whatever she was going to find there, she didn't know, but what the fuck ever. Anchorage made her feel nostalgic, in a way. Or maybe she really should just fly to Paris or London for vacation? It made her squeal in delight. Being away from the mansion really made her feel so cool and capable. She had her whole life ahead of her and she was going to enjoy the hell out of it.

Later that night, she played with the band and never took a break. Just as she expected, Karl tipped her good and she left the bar with a happy smile on her face. There had been no mystery woman waiting for her this time around, and she was glad. She didn't want any trouble for now.

It was freezing at this hour, and Rogue took her time walking back to Room 6. She never really did check out when Logan and Storm picked them up before. She asked the room to be cleaned regularly, and gave the promise that she would be back. She was glad that she did, because when she returned, her senses felt relieved she didn't have to deal with other people's odors on the walls, bed and bathroom. Scott's scent was already nearly gone, even more so her own. But it was comforting either way. It felt familiar. It was the place where she had decided to really live her life. Sure it might have been motivated by so many other things (Logan), but she had a choice in this place.

Her motel still nowhere near in sight, a truck suddenly stopped beside her on the road. Startled, she tried to keep her feet on the ground and not float when it gave her a honk. Pulling her coat tighter against herself, she yelled, "NOT INTERESTED!" She walked faster and groaned angrily when the truck kept in pace. She ignored the sound of the car window rolling down.

"Are you sure you don't want a ride, darlin'?"

It was probably because of the cold, why she couldn't seem to function properly. She just stood there, jaw hanging open. From the driver's seat sat Logan, who looked like he was stoned. His pupils were dilated as he regarded her with an expression she could only classify as ecstatic interest. "Logan? What are you doing here?" Fine, maybe Scott was right, but she didn't expect him to be here so soon. Not waiting for his answer, she resumed walking forward. Her heart sped up when she heard the pickup truck's door swing open and slammed shut. As much as she wanted to fly away, her body did not cooperate.

"Rogue!" Logan called. "Marie, just stop walking!"

"Go away, Logan!" When Rogue felt his hand on her arm, she turned around swiftly and glared at him. "What is it, huh? I told you what you needed to know. You didn't have to follow me for an encore!"

Logan cocked a smile at her. "Maybe I want to hear it again."

"SHUT UP!" Rogue yelled, shoved his chest away. He didn't budge. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Maybe I do."

A small part of her wanted him to give up and drive away, but Rogue knew she could never resist. That, and she really missed him. Sighing, she said, "Then talk."

Logan nodded and buried his hands in his pockets. He looked like he was really thinking about it. He gave her a wary look. "Let's… let's start over."

Huh? Rogue frowned. "What?"

Logan nodded and stood straighter. As if more confident, he repeated what he said, "Marie, let's start over."

"You're serious?"

"Damn right."

Rogue crossed her arms across her chest and looked away, now feeling awkward in her own skin. She felt like her cheeks were aflame. Putting up a brave, controlled front, she glared at him again. "You know what this means, Logan."

"I do," Logan affirmed with a nod.

For a few minutes Rogue stared at his handsome face. He looked so adorable as he stood in front of her. He was wearing his brown leather jacket, tight jeans and boots. His blue flannel shirt was open on the chest, revealing the wife beater underneath. Those firm pecs were surely trying to entrance her to just give in. "God," she whispered. "It's like I'm asking you to marry me." His eyes widened and she was almost tempted to laugh. Instead she scoffed and turned around. "Fuck off, Logan. I'm not in the mood to play around."

Logan pounced at her because she only took one step backwards and he's already got her trapped in the steel cage of his arms. "Marie, would you please just stop and listen to me?"

Rogue raised a brow at him. She could tell he was impatient, but she had a feeling he was more than willing to work for it.

"It takes much to accept it all in one go, Marie: you bein' immortal, you lovin' me as much as you do. Fuck, I can't even accept the fact I'm lustin' over you like a teenage boy. But it's true –the Wolverine wants you, and… And I know I do too. I guess I need more time–"

"That's why I left you, you fucking moron!" Rogue cut him off, trying to shrug away from his touch. "I said I didn't want to explain it all over again and you–"

"I said: I need more time with you, Marie!" Logan yelled, effectively stunning her into silence. "How am I supposed to do this when you keep on running away?" He hardened his grip on her arms, knowing she could take it. "What were you plannin' to do anyway, tryin' to 'let me live my life without you', that kinda bullshit for revenge? I'm a fuckin' antique, Marie, you don't have the right to tell me what to do."

Rogue heard him loud and clear. He was right. But that didn't mean she was wrong either. She shook her head and stared at the snow. "Can't you see, Logan?" she asked, hating that her voice sounded terrified. "I'm... obsessed and it's wrong. I want to blame Carol's self-confidence, blame Sabretooth's feral mutation –but it's just…" She paused to swallow the sob about to escape her throat. "It's just me, Logan. And I want you so bad that I don't know how to stop!"

"That's what I'm tryin' to say, darlin'," he replied, running his palms up and down her arms, as if he was trying to make her warm. "I don't want you to stop."

When she locked gazes with him, Rogue saw it was clear in his eyes –what he was probably trying to say: It's not just you."You don't know what you're saying. You're crazy!"

"Let me prove just how much then," Logan said, and pulled her in for a kiss.

Once again, the heat was overwhelming. It tore through Logan from the inside out. He loved every minute of it –especially the way her hands and arms unconsciously pulled him closer. This was the way they were meant to be. When he drew back to look at her face, see just how much he made her lips swell, he realized that they ended up backed up against a tree.

Marie was flushed and breathless, the soft intakes of breath tickling his ears. Her eyes were glassy with desire, fear, shock, denial and love. It seemed like it wasn't only him that needed to start changing. She needed time to believe he was ready as well.

"I want to figure it out together, Marie. I don't wanna do it alone." Logan covered her frame with his own when a bone-chilling breeze blew towards them. She was trembling, but it wasn't from the cold. It made him want to kiss her, embrace her, love her… Palming her warm cheek, he smiled. "I want to be with you every step of the way, darlin'. I want to be sure that I'm really what you want. Because there's not turning back from this, Marie… not for a very long time."

For the first time in months, Logan felt content and pleased. He got her to nap on the passenger seat as he drove to nowhere. He wanted to keep her with him for as long as he can. Once they step out of his rented truck, he would have to share her with the world again. It was a bit amusing though, to see Marie exhausted despite her advanced mutation. He fervently sent her a warm smile when she roused a few minutes later, her wild hair everywhere, eyes blinking.

"Just like the old times, darlin'," he said, reaching across the dashboard, took a package and handed it to her. "You, me and beef jerky."

Rogue laughed at that –a real one he'd heard in a while. She didn't devour it like she did when they first met though, instead took a piece and munched on it slowly. She took a can out of his six-pack of Molson's resting by her feet. Popping it open, she washed the beef jerky down with the cold beer. "Ahh," she hummed in satisfaction. After taking another sip, she licked her lips and turned to him. "You really want this?"

It wasn't the beer, he knew. Logan felt his chest tighten with an emotion that was too strange to him. It unfurled akin to death… in reverse. It was as if life was so good that wanted to die, but didn't want to at the same time. Grinning like an idiot, he nodded. "You bet I do."

Rogue observed him for a moment before staring out the window. "You know… you can really change your mind now, but I'll be hunting you down after a few years. Probably after I've toured the globe."

Logan stepped on the breaks and brought the truck to an abrupt halt, making both of them jerk off their seats. Neither wore seatbelts, and he almost felt a bit gratified that while he didn't smash his head on the wheel, his companion had been forcefully shoved forward against the dashboard that it burst open. Rogue gave him a glare enough to kill him, but all he did was stifle a chuckle when she still looked undeniably cute with that healing bump on her forehead. She might just kick him out to the curb, literally. Before she completely lost her temper, he spoke, "You have my brother's feral senses. Do you honestly think I've been lying to you since I came here?"

"No," Rogue answered quietly. He found himself fascinated by the red tinge on her tongue as she licked the blood off her lip, the cut nowhere in sight. "But you don't love me, Logan. You don't. You don't magically fall in love with a person-"

Logan clenched his jaw. "You're wrong. I may not have been in love with you before, but I do love you. I always have, Marie. I admit, my..." he sighed, trying to find the appropriate word to use. "My craving for you is fresh and I'm still gettin' used to it. I've taken care of this… this line for so long, Marie. I didn't expect to suddenly lose this guardianship over you." He scratched his unruly hair roughly. "Also gettin' used to the idea that you really don't need me anymore–"

He growled loudly when Rogue pounced on him all of a sudden, crushing his body with hers. She's got the collar of his flannel shirt in her tight fists, her breath cool on his lips as she straddled him. "I'm dying to fuck your brains out, Logan." Rogue used more force on him, shoving him harder backwards that he thought the seat would break. He opened his mouth to speak, but she covered his mouth with her hand and started to grind herself against the bulge in his jeans. He gnarled impatiently in response, but he closed his eyes when her hand began to flick his fly open. "I didn't ask you to come here just so you can take it slow…" Just as she was about to pull his manhood free, the same force that she used to knock him back was returned in full.

Because she should have known better. You can push Logan around, sure. But the Wolverine pushes back.

Hazel eyes dilated and fangs bared, he buried his fingers on her hips and pushed her harder down onto him. "Who said anythin' about takin' it slow, hmm?"

Logan was angry. Well, Wolverine, that is. He was in feral mode all of a sudden, Rogue wondered why she was surprised. He did a 180 on her all of a sudden –from the seemingly levelheaded guy who bought her dinner and beer, suddenly transformed into this rugged, thick, wild beast. He was agitated, fierce and ready to fuck –just like the rock-hard rod underneath her drenched panties. His flaring nostrils were sexy as hell, too. Thank goodness she wore a skirt today.

"Wolverine," Rogue whispered in acknowledgement. "Do you want a peek?" Overcome with that lust only he could evoke, she tightened her knees for support and eased herself from his groin. Biting her lip hard, she twisted her panties aside, showing him just how wet she was. The way his eyes devoured her brought her closer to that delicious edge.

The truck honked loudly when Wolverine shoved her upwards to bury his face in her heat. Like a wanton woman Rogue moaned, pushing her crotch harder against his mouth as he lapped on her juices like a thirsty animal. He nipped at her inner thighs, those puffy nether lips, and sucked hard on the small bud of pleasure. He held her thighs apart with all his strength; they knew she might accidentally snap his neck if she clenched her legs any harder. But he had always been so strong, so strong for decades and decades, and it did not take long until his skillful tongue made her fullness burst. Breathless, she came all over his face, and once again, she lost her control and sunk her ass back on the wheel. The truck tootled louder than the last time.

This time around, the loud beep served as an alarm clock that woke Logan from his Wolverine-lust-induced state. He still looked striking as his confused, moist face dawned with recognition. He unconsciously licked his lips, and his eyes widened at their position, her distinct sweet taste. "Marie…?"

Still recovering from her orgasm, Rogue bit her lip hard and made it bleed. She barely felt the sting as she quivered. When she saw Logan's surprise with what just transpired between them, the familiar disappointment wrecked her. Hurt because of his seemingly expression of regret, she swallowed the sob in her throat and tried to get off him. "Let me go," she ordered and tried to leave his lap, but to her shock, he grasped her by the shoulders.

"Stop moving!" he yelled.

The fight having left her, Rogue actually felt afraid of him. She tried to ignore the smell of her sex in the confines of the truck, tried to focus on the humiliation.

"Give me a moment," Logan growled softly, closing his eyes.

Embarrassment consumed her. She wanted to cry. Run away.

"No, not that kind…" Logan trailed off, seeing the doubts painted on her face. He sighed again and leaned his head on her breasts. "God, kid… what you do to me."

A part of her wanted to punch his lights out and fly away again, but there was something about this moment that made her stop. There was something about the way he pressed the side of his face on her bosom –you'd think he was listening to her heart. Despite what just happened, he kept her warm and close, like she was this precious thing… Who am I kidding, she thought. This is Logan.

"Don't move," Logan whispered, intruding her angst. One of his hands released her shoulder and trailed between their bodies. It took her a minute to realize he just unzipped his jeans to pull out his swollen cock. Her mouth-watered and her core clenched when he began to move his hand up and down the rigid length. "Can you… can you just…" He cupped her bottom then, and she wondered if this was going to be her first time, but he didn't impale her on it, nor did he push her away. He pressed the hot girth of meat against her slippery warmth and guided her up and down, slowly and gently.

"Nnnnhhh," Rogue whimpered, feeling the hardness poke against her clit over and over again. She saw how her juices had coated his shaft. The end is nigh! "OH!"

"Oh fuck, Marie," Logan groaned, keeping her hips in steady rhythm for his own release. He growled when she pushed her low-cut blouse down to reveal her breasts. His mouth didn't waste any time as he bathed her breasts with kisses. He bit a nipple gently, just so she can moan louder, so he can suck and lick the pain away. He quickened the pace of their hips then, rubbed his length harder against her slit, controlling every urge to enter her. "I'm cumming, baby!" he screamed, and sucked harder on the hard pink tip of her breast, and with one hard thrust against her clit, he roared loudly in release. If it weren't for the way his chin was busy milking her tit, he would have shot a hole through the roof of the truck.

The intensity of his orgasm brought Rogue to her own climax. Drained in more ways than one, she slumped against him, slick with their essence. "Oh, Logan…"

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I wanted your first time to be somewhere special. On a bed at least." He kissed her breasts one more time before fixing her clothes. He cupped her mound before pushing her skirt back down. Before setting her back to her seat, he cupped her face, looked into her eyes. "Now do you believe me?"

Rogue wanted to snap at him. Come up with a sassy remark. But all she could do was nod. When she said nothing still, he kissed her full on the lips. She tasted herself as she closed her eyes. Loved the way his tongue tasted her teeth, her tongue, her lips.

"I'll have to keep convincing you then," Logan breathed, clearing the hair from her face.

But what if he was doing this just to convince himself? Rogue sighed and embraced him hard before she sat back in her place. How the hell she still managed to doubt him was beyond her. Giving him a kiss on the cheek, she decided to keep this fantasy, at least until he wanted her.

The next night, Rogue didn't know how she lasted an entire day with Logan in Room 6. They slept beside each other on the bed, had a late brunch, and now they were watching TV. It was like her non-working day with Scott, only weirder, because even before the whole fiasco, she and Logan always fell into a routine whenever they were together. They would laugh at movie characters, ask each other useless questions, ask one another for more beer, more chips, etc. Now, it was the same, only that they managed not to sit too close with each other. They were being careful, but at the same time, they were waiting for one of them to lose it.

Or maybe it's my paranoia, Rogue thought. Because Logan was really just comfortable with her no matter what the situation was. He was always so cool and she always loved that about him. She was actually thankful that he didn't look like he was about to bolt back to New York. Speaking of... "Don't you want to go back to the mansion?"

Eyes on the TV set, Logan shrugged. "Nah; never was my thing."

Rogue couldn't help but raise a brow with that response. "Hard to tell."

Logan had the audacity to chuckle, as if she was implying something stupid. "Other than my business with Chuck, I did actually return for you." He turned to her, face serious. "Not for Jean."

Her heart sped up with that sudden remark. Were they really going to talk about this now? Feeling all sorts of uncomfortable, she yawned. "I'm hungry. Do you want me to go out for food?" She wanted him to say yes, but she had a notin that he would just ignore her attempt to change the subject, and he did.

"I loved Jean."

The green monster reared its familiar ugly head right between her ribcage. If only she can make her stomach rumble or his head explode. She rolled her eyes and she wished he saw it.

"Lika a friend," Logan added. "With flirtin' benefits." He chuckled. "A pissed off Scooter is good as gold too."

Ok, now that she didn't expect, because Rogue felt speechless. Was she supposed to believe that? One wrong word from her and they might be caught in an argument, or fucking, or whatever. She wanted to tell him to shut it, but somehow, she wanted to hear it herself. Was it just an excuse? A part of her also just wanted her heart to break. But Logan's face was contemplative, like he had been trying to get his head around this particular issue for a while already.

"Before I... stopped the Phoenix, I told Jean I loved her," he said slowly. A frown was etched on his face. "I said it because Scott couldn't say it for her -he was dead as far as we knew then. The Professor would have said it to her, just as her students would have too. But I never really understood it for myself. And when she was really gone... I knew that I lost someone important in my life. I lost a best friend."

Maybe now was a good time to smack him on the face, Rogue thought, although she understood what he was trying to say.

Logan shot her a grin. "Now, I'm not telling you I didn't find her attractive. You'd know from my memories I was more than willin' to bed her, but I never did love her. She was the best friend to talk to when I was down. Scott was always such a whiney bastard then, always insecure with my presence around Jean. Hank is always too serious and Ororo is too kind. Chuck was too pokey in the head department. And you..." he sighed. "You had a life to live."

Talk about something else, Rogue ordered herself mentally. "Do you want to know anything about your past? I can access Victor's memories if you want." But instead of nodding and agreeing, Logan just blinked at her and shook his head.

"No."

After always leaving me in the mansion to search for your past, you say no? Rogue grit her teeth. "Why not?"

"It's not as urgent as I thought it was," Logan said casually. "When you're immortal, and you've got what you need right in front of you will take your time now and then."

"Is that what you did with me? Take your fucking time?" Honestly, she didn't mean to sound so irate. But she couldn't help it. She felt a little satisfied when Logan flinched.

"Yes. No. I don't know," Logan said. "But the thing is, you... you're my most urgent, Marie. All I know is, we're going to be in this for the long haul. And I want to make sure we're on the same boat before we start doing, uh... other stuff." He turned away to look at the screen.

The emotional mood efficiently destroyed, Rogue's eyes glinted mischievously. "Things like what?"

Logan wiped a hand over his face, then his hair. A part of him felt dejected with the sudden shift of topic. In terms of friendship, they were still great together, but the line he was so careful not to cross was definitely gone. For so long he had considered her his friend, the little sister he might have had in another life, his constant. Marie was his reminder that there was still hope in this world. Now all he could think about was bending her over wherever. Sure, he still wanted to talk, wanted to sort out through their baggage and all that, but she was making it so hard for him, pun intended. "Marie... I'm not sayin' we shouldn't do it again, but why are you rushing?" The disappointment darkened her gaze but he had to be reasonable, somehow. "It's not that I'm deciding for both of us -we both know you're no longer a kid, but..." He groaned. "I want you to understand we're still new at this whole relationship thing and..."

He paused when he felt a hand on his bicep. He looked at her, the typhoon that upturned his boat, and yet the float that spared him his life. He knew she was still far from convinced, but somehow, she was looking up at him with something in her eyes, like she just had an epiphany, like she'd just seen the light.

"Logan... will you marry me?"

The sounds from the television were drowned out instantly. All he could see were her eyes, all he could hear was the beating of their hearts. It was thrumming in one rhythm, and it was beautiful as it was fatal. He wanted to kiss her, but he was frozen, the reality of everything dawning on him like he was-

Her laughter filled his ears, and the commercials from the TV began pounding back into his senses. "OH MY FUCKIN' GAWD! I should have caught your face on cam or something!" She wiped the tears from her eyes while he just stared at her. "Logan!" she called his name, tapping his cheek lightly with her palm. "I was joking."

Logan gulped. "Marie…"

Marie smiled sweetly at him and kissed his cheek lightly. "We've been so serious and I wanted to bring us out of that boohoo moment."

"Kid, that was not funny."

"Why, sugar, afraid of me?" she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him.

"I might…"

"OH! SHIT!" Marie exclaimed, jumping back to the floor. She went to the drawers and got some clothes. "Come with me, sugar, I have to show you something..."

Rogue sat him somewhere in the back of the bar. Logan was sipping his beer quietly, but he knew he was feeling fidgety all over. He said she would be showing him what she did for a living, and when he asked if she waited tables, she just glared at him and told him to shut up and enjoy the show. He was even more worried when she said 'show'. If Marie was stripping for money... letting so many men eye her with their hard dicks, he would unleash Wolverine in a blink of an eye. He was torturing himself with these thoughts, but deep inside, he was thinking of something else.

Marry Rogue, his Marie?

Logan took another big gulp of beer. Wolverine was laughing at his distress. Because Logan was excited.

A ZING from the stage interrupted his thoughts, and Logan's eyes zoomed up front. There stood his woman, a shiny electric guitar in her hands, and after one careless strum, she began to move her hand. Her fingers zipped and ground against the stringed-instrument, grinding out pure rock and roll. Her eyes were focused on her rift, intense and occupied. Sweat dripped from the sides of her face, glistened like tiny crystals on her creamy collarbone. She was playing that guitar so easily like a pro and she looked damn right sexy. Hot. Instant erection in his pants. This was his Marie? Then, in the middle of her piece, she stopped.

Everyone was still entranced, and the silence extended when she started to strum an acoustic song. She leaned closer to the microphone, those red and pouty lips he loved parted to sing. Her voice came out breathy like a moan. Woman.

"Hello
I've waited here for you... Everlong
Tonight I throw myself into
And out of the red
Out of her head she sang

"Come down
And waste away with me
Down with me
Slow how
You wanted it to be
Over my head
Out of her head she sang

"And I wonder
When I sing along with you
If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again
The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when
She sang

"Breathe out so I can breathe you in
Hold you in
And now I know you've always been
Out of your head, out of my head I sang

"And I wonder
When I sing along with you
If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again
The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when
She sang

"And I wonder
If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again
The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when..."

Marie ended the song with her eyes closed, and when she returned back to earth, the place was loud with applause and whistles. She felt her face heat with the attention, but mostly it was because she knew that she sang that song for him. She smiled at the adoring audience and waved goodbye, handing the mic back to Koren. She stepped down and went to the backstage for a while, feeling the adrenaline still pumping in her veins. Music made her feel this way, but it intensified because of Logan. She knew he heard her pour her soul out not only with her playing, but with the song.

When the band started to play without her, she felt the heat of his gaze from the darkness. She smiled shyly at him, leaned back against the wall for support, feeling her knees would give away soon. "Always felt like that with you, you know? Waiting for you, everlong."

Logan took a step closer.

She watched him curiously. "Did you like what I played-"

Logan trapped her in a rough lip-lock, but the way he coaxed her into it felt like a gentle, slow burn to her. He was kissing her like it was their first time. She wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer. He licked her tongue with his own, and she moaned, her body wishing for more. She wanted to grind herself harder against his for more heat, but all he did was kiss her passionately. The heat exploded in her belly, and it's a strange mix with the way her heart is bursting with love, and she knew it was all for him, all for this man.

"I love you, Marie," Logan whispered hoarsely as he drew back. He pressed her against the wall, his arousal evident between their bodies, but he just stared at her like she had been lost and he had found her. "I've loved you the same way you've been waiting for me. Everlong." He didn't know when it started, but he knew it was never going to end.

Blinking back tears, Marie sniffed and buried her face in his chest. He kissed the top of her head, and she thought he would kiss her again or drag her out of the bar for that much-awaited love-making, but he just stared at her lovingly.

"Marie, please marry me."