Rogue’s POV:

After getting the cure, I returned home, back to the mansion. Only it wasn’t really home any more. Everything had changed. Professor Xavier, Jean, and Scott were dead, Ororo was attempting to cope with her new responsibilities, and Logan was in grieving for the woman he loved. I had hoped that at least things with Bobby would work out better. We could touch now, and when I got back we made out for half an hour. It was so wonderful that I cried. Not that I had any frame of reference to know if it was good or not, but simply the fact that I could kiss someone was overwhelming to me. Apparently, Bobby didn’t feel the same. The next morning at breakfast, I kept catching him and Kitty making googly eyes at each other. Being able to touch him didn’t solve our relationship problems, it probably just gave us some sort of perverse closure.

Bobby and I officially broke up a week after I returned. People looked at me twice as weird after that. Most of the residents of the mansion thought I was a traitor for giving up my powers. Now I wasn’t just the pathetic girl who gave up her gift to touch, but I was the girl who gave it all up for a boy who didn’t want her. I got the strangest mix of pity and hatred from them. But they didn’t understand, they didn’t have their gift take the form of a curse. And now there was no one to talk to about it, they were all dead or busy with their own problems. I didn’t want to add to anyone’s problems, and I couldn’t live in a place where I was a pariah. If I had wanted that, I’d have stayed in Mississippi. So I decided to pack up and leave.

It was a month after Alcatraz, and things were returning back to normal around the mansion. Well, as normal as a mansion full of mutants and millions of dollars worth of military equipment ever is. Logan was off on a recon trip, thankfully. He would have noticed me leaving, even if no one else did. I put a single white rose the graves of Jean, Scott and the Professor, silently thanking them for all they had done for me. I left two letters in my room, one for Ororo, one for Logan, then I walked away from the institute forever.

I ended up in South Carolina. It was far away from the two places that I had once called home, but it was still Southern enough that people were no longer making exasperating comments about my accent. Seriously, I wasn’t the one with an accent, they were! I had stashed enough money away in my years at Xavier’s so that I could afford a tiny apartment and I managed to find a retail job pretty quickly. Not sure how I managed that one. My resume was pretty empty. I could hardly list ‘junior member of the X-Men’ under job experience or ‘sucking people’s souls out through my skin’ under special skills.

I called the Institute a couple of times. The first time Kitty answered, “Hello?” she answered in that giggly voice of hers whenever she was around a boy she liked. All I could think about is how she and Bobby had hurt me, and I couldn’t say a word. Then, in the background I heard “Kitty, baby, who is it?” Speak of the Devil. I hung up and cried.

I tried again about a month later. This time Jubilee answered, and I thanked my lucky stars. She was about the only one not to judge me for taking the cure, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to say something that would break my heart. “Hello, Xavier Institute.”

“Hey girl.”

“Rogue! Oh my god, how are you doing, chica? Where are you? What have you been up to? Have you– ”

“Crap, Jubilee calm down. You’re talking so fast I can barely understand you.”

“Sorry. I’m just so glad to hear you. We all wondered what happened to you.”

“I left a note. Two, in fact.”

“Yeah, yeah. Stormy gave us the gist of what you said. But we still didn’t know where you went off to. Why did you call earlier? Even a friggin’ post card . . .”

“Sorry, Jubes. I’ve been so busy since I left.” A lie. I spent my days at work, and then went home to eat in front of the television every night. I had co-workers, but no friends. Nothing that interested me outside of work. Thought about going to community college, but I couldn’t find a major that I would really want to pursue. My life was empty and repetitive, but admitting that to Jubilee meant admitting that I was wrong about everything – getting the cure, leaving the mansion, cutting ties with my old life. I didn’t have much, but I did have my dignity.

“We’ve missed you. Why don’t you come home?”

“Xavier’s ain’t my home anymore. ‘Sides, I doubt that many people other than you have missed me that much. And you an’ I know that the only reason you want me around is so that you’ll have an accomplice in your little schemes.” I attempted to sound upbeat, but I was sure that I was failing miserably. Thankfully, Jubilee is pretty oblivious to subtle ques.

“Awww, don’t be like that Roguey-poguey. Of course we miss ya. You know that Logan misses you.”
I would be surprised if he even noticed I was gone. But if was nice of her to say it.

“I gotta get goin’ soon, Jubes, so here’s the short version. I’m working retail, got myself a nice little apartment all to myself, and I’ve gone on a few dates, but nothing serious.” More half-truths, but ones that would make both her and I feel better. “I don’t think I’ll tell you where I am right now, but once my life has settled down I will.”

“Really? That’s all I get? Where do you work? How many guys are you seeing? When—”

“Jubilee, I have to go. Just give my love to everyone who you think deserves it, and tell them I’m fine. And take care, okay girl?”

“Yeah,” she responded with uncharacteristic sadness. Had she seen through my false veneer of contentment or was she just upset that she wasn’t getting to hear more gossip? Probably the latter. “I’ll tell them you said ‘Hi.’ Call back soon, got it?”
“I will. Bye Jubes.”

“Bye Rogue.”

I didn’t call again. I had no new lies to tell and my real life gave me little to brag about.

Every day seemed the same. The biggest difference from one day to the next was what time my alarm clock went off and what kind of Lean Cuisine I would eat at night. I could barely remember my life before my mutation, but I was pretty sure that this wasn’t how a normal life should be. Shouldn’t I have had things to look forward to, things that I enjoyed, people that I liked talking to? But I didn’t. I had a routine, I had a place to stay, I had a job, I had all the things that normal people had. Right? So why didn’t I feel normal? Why didn’t I feel anything?

A month after he started working there, the new boy, Josh, heart-throb extraordinaire, asked me out. A couple of my female co-workers were within earshot, and I could feel their jealous glares upon me. He hadn’t been the first guy to ask me out since I had moved to South Carolina, but he was the first one who asked me at a point when I couldn’t come up with a decent excuse to blow him off. I knew that if I had given him a flimsy excuse the other girls would never let me hear the end of it. So I said yes.

We went dancing. He bought me plenty of drinks. I got drunk and he took me home. He fucked me. I didn’t feel anything. He left. He didn’t call back and he avoided me at work. Which was fine by me. I’d had my experience, and it had been like every other experience since I’d chosen to become normal. It left me more hollow than ever.

I kept waiting for a change that never came. My life didn’t magically take on some whole new meaning, it just kept going on and on. Till one day I didn’t want it to. I had lived my life, but I had thrown it away in an attempt to be happy, be normal. But all I had done was alienate the only people who had made me feel remotely happy. And it was too late to get them back, to get that life back.

No note. The only things I needed to say were already written in the two letters I left in my old room when I left the mansion.

Popped in ‘Harold and Maude’ – I used to love that movie. I lie down on the threadbare couch, blanket draped over me. I feel tired, feel numb. “Well, if you want to sing out, sing out, and if you want to be free, be free, 'cause there's a million things to be, you know that there are . . .” That song used to make me cry, but I can’t seem to cry. Can’t keep my eyes open. Manage to feel a single tear dripping slowly down my cheek. I don’t feel it as it fell from my face to the floor.

Logan’s POV:

Don’t remember much about those first days back after Alcatraz. It all seemed a blur. Clearer than my memories from before the time that those bastard scientists got a hold of me, but that ain’t saying much. I just know that I had killed a woman I loved and that the best man I’d ever know had died. And somehow, I had to keep going for their sakes. ‘Ro helped me through, told me what I had to do to help the school, and I did it without a second thought. I needed that, the constant activity that would keep my thoughts at bay. Yet all that pain was still there and welled up from time to time. There was only one person that would help me in times like those, the only person that could help me, the only one who I’d have see me that damn weak: Marie.

She’d hold my hand (now ungloved – that didn’t seem right) or just sit there with me. She wouldn’t spout off that psychiatric crap about mourning like McCoy would, or come up with flowery and false works like ‘Ro would. Mostly, she didn’t say a word. The few words she did say were genuine, they were honest, they helped heal me, just a little. Her being there was what helped the most.
Part of me was glad she hadn’t been at Alcatraz. If something had happened to her, I don’t know what I would have done. Somehow I was coping with Jean and the Professor being gone, but if it had been her, the girl I’d sworn to protect? The one who made me feel normal? Fuck. I’d have lost it completely.

But she was here now, safe and sound. People may have looked at her differently, but she was safe, and that’s what mattered. The Ice-prick might have dumped her, but she would get over it. She was always strong like that. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t tempted to skewer the little bastard.

Ororo had sent me off to scout out the headquarters of a new organization that called itself ‘Friends of Humanity’ for a few days, and when I got back, she was gone. She had left a couple of letters behind for us to read. ‘Ro shared the one that had been addressed to her, but had been for everyone in general. It was filled with gratitude and best wishes, but no hint at where she was going. The letter she left me didn’t give me any hints either. I figured she just needed a break from it all. The shit had hit the fan all at once and she needed to get away from it. So she ran. God knows I get that. But she’d be back. I always came back to her, and she’d come back to me.

But the weeks passed and we didn’t hear from her. I still kept busy and that kept some of my worries away, but every day I got a little more panicked. What if something had happened to her? She could always rely on her mutation before, to keep her safe, but it was gone now. Anything could happen to her.

A few other people at Xavier’s were worried, but not many. ‘Ro was concerned, but mostly she just felt responsible. Rogue was one of her students and she had turned her back on her once she got the cure. If she hadn’t already been beating herself up over it, I would have pissed at her. But she was doing a damn good job at feeling horrible about the whole thing, and I just left her to it. Jubilee and Colossus were most distraught at Marie’s disappearance, and even Ice-prick and Kitty seemed genuinely concerned as to how she was doing. Not that those two had any right to care, after what they pulled.

About two months after Marie’s disappearance Jubilee came running into my classroom (yeah, classroom. I am a teacher, dammit!) saying that Rogue had called. The hyper little firecracker enthusiastically reported every word she’d said. It sounded like Marie was okay. But something didn’t sit right with me. Something was wrong. I’d have to find her and find out for myself.

But ‘Ro still needed me at the school, and the X-Men needed me on the battlefield. So it had to wait, no matter how much it churned my stomach. She’d wait for me, and when I found her, we’d work it out.

Spring break came and I went to talk to ‘Ro about taking off to find Marie. She had just about agreed when the phone rang. I poured myself a whisky while she took the call, but tensed as her face blanched.

“Yes, we are her emergency contact still, I suppose.”

‘Ro grew paler.

“Oh goddess.”

Tears ran down her face.

“T-thank you for letting us know. We’ll be there as soon as possible.”

She looked up at me, but couldn’t look me in the eye. She didn’t have to say anything. I knew.
We took the Blackbird to South Carolina.

A metal slab. There she was on a metal slab. Cold, hard metal. She wouldn’t have wanted to be like that. It would remind her of that psycho Magneto or of my memories from the lab.

And she looked so fragile. Even more doll-like than I remembered. She’d lost weight. And she was so pale. But she was still beautiful. My beautiful little Marie.
The coroner was saying something, but I couldn’t hear it. I brought my hand to her cheek. It had worked once before, I had brought her back with my touch. But she hadn’t been so cold last time. I just stood there, willing her to use her power, to take that damn healing that had been the bane of my existence, to make it all better. Then I remembered that she had gotten rid of her mutation. She’d gotten rid of the one thing that could save her. How could she do that?

I was awakened from my stupor by ‘Ro pulling my hand away from Rogue’s cold, pale skin. Oh yeah. She’d been dead for hours now. Even if she had been a mutant still, I couldn’t save her. She was gone.

“Yes, she is,” Ororo said tearfully.

Fuck, did I say that out loud?

‘Ro wandered off with the coroner, discussing paperwork or some shit.

“Just you an’ me, Darlin’,” I smiled down at her, “Just like it always was.”

Not sure when the tears started falling, but it was like a damn rainforest or something. I couldn’t stop. But no one could see. No one but Marie. She was the only one who could see me like this. The only one who would understand and not judge. For everyone else I had to be the Wolverine, for everyone else she had to be Rogue. But when it was just the two of us, we were Logan and Marie. For one last time.

‘Ro had tried to get me to talk when we got back to the mansion, but I shrugged her off. I silently went to my room, frightened students scattering in my wake. I sat on my bed, watching the last rays of light fade out my window. Numbness overtook me. I must have sat that way for hours, but I can’t say for certain. Finally, a thought came to me. The letter that she had left for me months ago when she left my life forever.

I hadn’t read the letter since I came back from the recon trip and found her gone. Part of me had wanted to throw away the damn thing, knowing she’d be back soon enough. Another part told me to keep it, which is what I had done. I had kept it in my bedside table, eyed it once and in a while, but never bothered to re-read it. Until now.

Logan,

So I’ve decided to go. Nothing left for me here but bad memories, and I have enough of those to last a life time. Several lifetimes, really. Strange thing happened when I got the Cure; my powers are gone, and so are the voices are in my head. But the memories are still there. All of them – yours, Magneto’s, Bobby’s, John’s – everyone’s. But that’s neither really here nor there. Point is, it’s time for me to move on. I kind of wish I still had your voice in my head, so I can blame it for my urge to run, but it’s all me.

I’m sorry about Jean. I know you loved her, and how what you had to do hurt you more than words can say. I’m sure she would thank you in the end for what you did, but that doesn’t stop the pain, does it? She would have been proud of you, how you stepped up and helped everyone at the school. You became a hero. You were always a hero to me, but now everyone knows it.

Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You helped me when no one else would, you listened to me when no one else cared, you suffered for me like no one ever should have had to. Most of all, you were my friend when that was what I needed most in the world. I’ll always think of you as my friend, but now that I’ve lost the most important thing we had in common, I’m guessing that we could never go back to being so close. I’m sorry if you think I betrayed you or myself for getting the cure. Is that why you let me go that day to get the cure? Because you knew it was time for me to move on? Because you knew our friendship was over? You always knew more than you let on.

I’ll be alright out there. You’ve taught me well and I’m no longer a target for mutant haters. Not sure where I’ll go, but I’ll be fine.

When you’re out there saving the world and helping mutants everywhere, remember to take care of yourself. I know your body heals, but don’t put yourself through any more pain. I could never bear to see you in pain, and I know you’ve seen a lot of it lately.

Good-bye Logan, and thank you for being my friend.

I’ll always love you,

Marie

The first time I had read it, I had only understood half of what she wrote. What the hell was she talking about “knowing more than I let on?” I don’t know shit. And now, every word seemed important, everything seemed laced with double meaning. Did she know it then? Had she planned it that far out? She was in so much fucking pain, but all she did was thank me, and comfort me, and tell me to take care of myself. Why the fuck couldn’t I see what she was going through?

One line bugged me most of all, where she said she’d “lost the most important thing we had in common.” Did she really think that us both being mutants was all that held us together? We were in a school filled with mutants, that didn’t mean that they got me like Marie got me. Hell, I’d met my fair share of mutants out on the road, and I didn’t get attached to any of them. Long time back, when she had tried to run away from the school the first time, I told her Xavier’s was a good place for “people like us.” I didn’t mean mutants.

She and I both knew what it was like to be alone. To be feared by other mutants. To keep your feelings bottled up and to yourself. To always be ready to run the moment that trouble hit. To not understand the fragments of memories bouncing around your head. To never fit in. To hate your own body and the destruction it could do. To be resigned to love, but never really be loved in return.
But I loved her. And she loved me. Maybe not how I loved Jean and she had loved Bobby, but we loved each other. Except I never told her. And I never would be able to.