Logan was dead. Finally something had proven to be more powerful than his mutation. The Cure. It had been used as a weapon to bring him down. With his healing mutation gone he had fallen to victim of his own body. Adamantium used to reinforce his skeleton had poisoned him. He had never had symptoms because his mutation had been healing him constantly, but as soon as Cure hit his bloodstream heavy metal poisoning brought him on his knees. After an agonizing ten hours he had died.

“Go away,” Rogue rasped, trailing his name carved to a simple black gravestone. Scott stopped behind her and cleared his throat.
“If you’re here to give me a lecture about how this isn’t healthy and how I should live on, forget it and go away,” Rogue growled.
“I’m not. I thought you could use some company,” Scott said and sat next to her. Rogue bit her lip and moved closer to the cold stone, leaning her cheek on its smooth surface.
“He wasn’t supposed to die. Not like this. Not in a med lab. He hated that place,” she sighed and plucked a few dry leafs from the grave, crushing them in her palm.
“It was his decision. And in the end he knew it had been worth it.”
“Worth it? I could have taken it! Cure couldn’t have harmed me!” Rogue spat.
“No? Remember the last time? How sick you became once it wore off? You nearly died,” Scott reminded her about the time she had sought the Cure voluntarily. It had kept her mutation at bay for two weeks. When it returned to full force she fell to a coma for three days.
“I did it once. I could have done it again. Why the fuck you were so stupid!” Rogue cried now and struck the black stone with her fist so hard her knuckles started to bleed. Scott moved closer to stop her.
“Back off, Scooter…” Rogue growled, and hairs in the back of his neck prickled. Wolverine shone through her eyes. Scott nodded, rose and left, leaving the two of them alone.

**Kid? You have to stop hurting yourself.**
“Who are you to give me orders?” Rogue snorted to the voice echoing inside her head. She could sense a brief moment of hesitation, then a slight nudge.
**I didn’t do it so I could watch you torture yourself.**
“You knew I could have taken it.”
**I wasn’t going to wait again, not knowing would you wake up or not.**
“I woke up last time, didn’t I?”
**We have been through this already. Please, leave now. Go to your friends. Have fun. Live.** Wolverine in her head was pleading. He had never pleaded when he was alive, not even in his last hours when pain wracked his body. Now it was all he got left, only way to influence her.
“No. I think I take a nap now…” Rogue yawned and lay down on top of the grave, curling on her side and closing her eyes. Soon she drifted to a deep sleep. She didn’t wake up when tall figure crouched next to her and picked her up.

She was so small and fragile. She had lost weight during these months and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her hair hung unwashed and tangled nest around her face.
“Christ, you’re a mess…” He murmured quietly and cradled her tighter against his chest, folding his wings protectively around them both to shield her from the wind that was picking up. She whimpered in her sleep and snuggled closer to him, grabbing his shirt to a tight grip.
“This has been going on long enough. Lets get you cleaned up,” he whispered.

Majority of the students were on a field trip with professor and other teachers, so there was no welcoming committee when he entered, carrying Rogue. Hall was quiet and whole place smelled of old paintings and wood polish. He took the stairs to second floor, and hesitated only briefly before picked a door to his old room. It wasn’t locked, but it was untouched. Magazine he had been reading lay next to unmade bed. Curtains were half closed. Faint scent of cigar hung in the air. It came from the ashtray on the table next to window. Half smoked, dried stub lay there forgotten. In the corner was his knapsack, right were he had thrown it just few days prior to his last mission with X-team. Door to bathroom hung half open. He walked in. Three fluffy towels hung on a towel rack, each one embroidered with Xavier’s trademark X. He returned to his bedroom and laid Rogue on his bed, careful not to wake her. He stretched his back and turned back to bathroom, when glimpse of something silvery caught his eye. He turned and took a closer look. Collar of Rogue’s shirt had moved and he could see familiar chain around her neck. He knew what he would find if he pulled that chain. Dog tags. His dog tags. Strange burning sensation set inside of his chest and his throat constricted. He reached his hand and traced her features softly. She sighed and took a hold of his hand, pulling him on the bed with her.
“Logan…” She murmured with a voice thick from sleep.

She woke up confused and disoriented. This wasn’t her room. This was his room. And she hadn’t fallen asleep in here. She had fallen asleep on his grave. It took her a moment before she realized she wasn’t alone. Somebody was in bed with her. A man. With his back turned towards her. Bare back. With impressive set of wings. Little like Warren’s, but where Warren’s wings were white and angelic, wings on her companions back were light grey and strictly utilitarian. More like a bird of prey than angel. She scooted carefully out of the bed, not wanting to wake him until she knew what was going on. Knock on the door made her jump and turn towards the sound. When she turned back towards the bed, man was gone. She was alone in the room. Only proof of him was one light grey feather, fallen to the floor next to bed. Her hand flew to her throat. Where Logan’s dog tag had been, her fingers found only skin. It was gone.