We told ourselves it never would have happened if it hadn't been for the betrayal. We assured each other that it never would have gone so far otherwise. It seems we share nothing but bitterness and recriminations now. That and the need to constantly reassure each other that we were as victimized as they were.

Maybe we think if we say it often enough, we can believe the lie.

Maybe if we can believe the lie, we can live with the consequences.

---

Logan walked down the hallway in the lower level dressed in his workout clothes. He was still ten paces from the door of the gym when Jean came staggering out of the room. Her eyes were wide with shock. Logan's own eyes narrowed with concern at her pale complexion. She was so distraught that she didn't notice that she wasn't alone in the hallway. She stumbled aimlessly away from the door, casting stunned looks at it over her shoulder. When Logan reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, she gasped aloud, her head swinging around toward him, causing her ponytail to slap into her cheek.

"Christ, Jeannie, what the hell happened to you? You look like you're gonna pass out."

Jean blinked several times. She didn't seem to recognize him at first. "Logan? ... What ... What are you doing down here?"

Logan had never seen Jean in such a state. She was shaking all over. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled unnoticed onto her ashen skin. "I was going for a workout. Marie left a note in our room saying that she had something she had to do this morning, so I thought..."

Logan stopped explaining when he saw the stricken look on Jean's face. She didn't want to hear about his morning. There was obviously something very wrong with her. He rubbed his hand on her arm in a friendly, consoling manner and spoke with soft concern. "What's going on? You look like someone just died."

A heartbroken, humorless laugh erupted from Jean. It waned away into a mournful sound. "Not someone Logan. Just something." Her eyes drifted back over her shoulder to the door of the gym.

Logan didn't know what exactly had set her off, but the only person who could affect her this way was Scott. "Did you and Summers have a fight? You want me to go beat some sense into him?"

Logan headed for the door, but Jean stopped him with a frantic hand on his arm and a shouted, "No! Logan, don't go in there!"

Logan turned half way back, studying Jean through narrowed eyes. She seemed almost panicked at the idea of him confronting her fiancée. "What are you hiding, Jeanie? What the hell did he do to you?"

Jean laughed again. This one was humorless as well, but the heartache and pain had been replaced by bitterness and anger. "It's not me Scott was doing."

Logan's eyes glittered with fury. What the hell was that pitiful bastard thinking to cheat on a woman like Jean? Logan would be damned if he'd let this go without teaching that pretty boy a lesson. Logan growled deep in his throat, pulled away from Jean, and stormed toward the gym door.

Logan yanked the door open, but it immediately slammed shut before he could go in. He turned around and stared at Jean where she stood several paces away. "Stop it, Red. I'm going in there. He can't treat you this way-"

"Don't, Logan," Jean entreated. "Don't go in there."

Something in the way she was looking at him made Logan realize why she didn't want him going into the room. She wasn't trying to protect her fiancée from a well deserved ass-kicking. Jean was trying to spare Logan from seeing what she'd seen and feeling what she felt. {"It's not me Scott was doing" }. The blood drained from his face in shock. {God... No... she's wrong... she has to be wrong...}

Logan stared at Jean. Tears ran steadily down her face. She silently shook her head from side to side, wordlessly begging him to walk away.

Logan turned back to the door and quickly pulled it open before Jean could block him again. He took a step into the room and froze.

Across the foam mats and weight equipment, Logan stared into the observation room. Behind the glass, on top of the desk, two people were sweating and straining and rutting like animals. One of them was Summers...

The other was Marie.

Logan stood stock-still, unwilling to believe what he was seeing but unable to look away. Despite the massive explosion he felt inside his chest that he knew was the sensation of his heart breaking, Logan watched as the man he'd grown to unwillingly respect as a leader fucked the only woman Logan had ever trusted enough to love. There were no two ways about it. Marie and Summers weren't making love.

They were fucking.

There was no tenderness, just a raw, animal heat that Logan instinctively recognized. He'd experienced it himself more times than he could count before he'd met Marie. Worst of all, they were playing some sick little game. One-eye's ever-present ruby quartz shades were gone, replaced by a black blindfold. Even at such a distance, Logan recognized the scarf Jean had given Marie for her birthday.

The knife twisted deeper in Logan's gut. He didn't think it could possibly get worse.

Then Marie looked through the glass at him.

She didn't look ashamed at being caught or sorry that she'd hurt him. She just smiled wickedly, bit at her lower lip, then circled it with her tongue.

And then she winked at him.

His first impulse was to charge into that room and rip them both to bloody shreds. But as Marie's hands clutched Summer's shoulders and she flung her head back in ecstasy, all Logan's pain disappeared. His heart froze inside him like a block of ice. He left the room without a backward glance and went upstairs to pack.

---

Scott was breathing heavily when he pulled out of her. Still blindfolded, he asked for his glasses and felt them being placed in the palm of his hand. He heard the sound of clothing being straightened as he untied the blindfold and put his glasses back on. Only then was it safe to open his eyes.

Scott still felt confused and uneasy about what had happened. He didn't like playing "games", but she'd begged him to do it for her, so he had. She'd held out the scarf and whispered so seductively... {"I don't want you to make love to me, Scott. I want you to fuck me."}

Too late, he realized what a mistake it had been to do what she'd practically begged him to do. There were tears streaming down her cheeks and she wouldn't look him in the eyes. He tilted her chin up with his fingers. "I thought this was what you wanted."

"I thought so too... I thought that if you... If we..."

"I'm sorry. Please... what can I do?"

She shook her head with sad resignation. "There's nothing you can do, Scott. I thought that this could make me forget Logan. I thought it would get him out of my system."

Scott stepped back, stung by her words. "That's what this was about?"

She reached out a shaking hand toward his face, then pulled it back without touching him. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I... I have to go..."

Scott watched his lover flee the room. He made no attempt to stop her. The pain in his chest wouldn't let him chase her down and beg for another chance.

Maybe he'd lost her, but he hadn't lost his pride.

---

Logan haphazardly threw items from his dresser drawers into the bag clutched in his hand. If he could remain cold inside long enough to get out of there, maybe he'd survive. The pain would have to wait for later when he'd have at least two hundred miles between himself and this place. He had to get away before he saw her again and did something insane, like clawing her heart out so she'd know how he felt... or begging her to tell him what he'd done wrong and swearing to hand her the world on a silver platter if she'd be his again.

Logan swore under his breath and headed for the bathroom. He grabbed a few things and threw them into the bag. He was headed for the door when his eye caught on the picture frame that sat on the bedside table. Against his will and his better judgment, Logan sat down on the bed and picked up the photograph. It was a picture of Marie and him, both in profile. They were grinning, staring into each other's eyes, their foreheads resting against each other. Jubilee had taken the picture a little over a year ago; a month after Marie had learned to control her mutation. Logan had never been happier in his life than the day Marie had walked into the bedroom they'd shared for two years and reached out a bare hand to touch his face.

Logan heard a sound at the door. He didn't want to look up, certain that it was Marie and not at all certain of how he'd react to seeing her. "You're leaving."

Logan looked up into Jean's pained gaze. He briefly looked down at the bag in his hand, then slammed the picture frame face down onto the bedside table as he stood. "No reason to stay." {...And so many reasons to leave they don't bear listing.}

Jean nodded silently. She walked further into the room, leaving the door ajar behind her. "I understand," she replied quietly.

Logan realized that she was the only one who could understand, telepath or not. He reached down and zipped the bag shut. "What're you gonna do?"

Jean huffed and shrugged her shoulders. "I honestly don't know. This is my home, my family. I can't bear the thought of leaving, but..."

"You can't stand the idea of staying either," Logan finished for her.

Jean stared at Logan for a moment before she slowly closed the distance between them. Her eyes were locked on his chest, then they slowly rose to meet his. "Before you go..."

Logan knew what she was asking. The look in her eyes was unmistakable. He dropped the bag and grabbed Jean's shoulders, pulling her to him and crushing his lips to hers.

Jean cried out softly as Logan's mouth left hers to travel along her jawline. Her hands squeezed between them to begin frantically unbuttoning his shirt. Logan shrugged out of his jacket and allowed her to push his shirt down his arms. His tee shirt was shucked off and tossed across the room, followed in short order by Jean's blouse and bra.

They spoke no words, exchanging only fierce kisses as they shed their remaining clothing. Logan pushed Jean down on the bed and ravished her breast with his tongue. Her long legs wrapped around his back and pulled him toward her, unwilling to wait for standard foreplay. Bowing to what they both craved, Logan plunged into her deeply. He slammed into Jean's body over and over again, consumed by his want, his need, his lust.

Wanting to forget the unforgivable. Needing to feel something besides the pain. Lusting for revenge.

And when he opened his eyes, he saw the same things in reflected in Jean's expression.

Jean and Logan were so consumed by their emotional battle that they forgot about the partially open door. They didn't notice it open behind them. They didn't hear the sharply drawn breath or the sound of footsteps stumbling away.

---

Scott rounded the corner of the hall and saw Rogue stumbling back from the door to the room she shared with Logan. Her trembling hand raised to her lips as she continued backing away. Scott approached her from behind and caught her when she stumbled over her own feet. "Rogue? Are you...?"

She quickly shoved away from him and turned. "I... I can't... I..."

Scott watched helplessly as she fled down the hallway. He stepped around the door and looked inside. He closed his eyes at the sight of the writhing pair on the bed and pulled the door shut. With resignation and a deep-seated pain in his heart, he walked in the direction that Rogue had fled. He had a good idea of where she'd gone.

Scott's assumption was accurate. When he entered the garden, he found Rogue huddled on a wrought iron bench, sobbing into her folded arms.

Scott walked over and took a seat beside her. "Rogue, I think we need to talk..."

---

Logan and Jean pulled their clothes back on in silence, unable to look at each other. There was no afterglow between them, just the feeling of loss and bitterness. Logan pulled his boots on and stood up from the bed. He finally dared to look at Jean. She looked as lost and hurt as he felt. Logan picked up his bag and said, "Come with me."

Jean's eyes shot up. "What?"

"Come with me, Jeannie. I'm not saying that it's right or it's forever, but I don't want to be alone right now. I don't think you want to be alone either."

Jean couldn't deny that, but the responsibility that she felt toward the school and the Professor in particular made her hesitate. "Logan, I can't leave here. I can't just walk away..."

"No one's saying you have to, Red. But I think you could use a break from this place for a while. Just come with me, and I promise I'll bring you back whenever you say the word."

Jean stared at Logan silently for a full minute. "I'll pack a bag."

---

Rogue and Scott crossed the grounds toward the mansion. Rogue felt a little better after their talk. That wasn't saying much considering she'd never felt worse than when he'd found her crying her eyes out on that bench, but she had to take the little victories where she could find them. And Scott had given her room to hope that things would get better.

As they neared the porch, Scott and Rogue both heard the roaring of Scott's motorcycle in the garage. It soon shot into sight, bearing Logan and Jean down the long drive toward the gates.

Rogue fell to her knees sobbing, what little hope Scott had managed to give her disappearing in a cloud of dust that quickly settled into nothingness. Scott knelt in front of her and drew her unresisting form into his arms. Rogue clung to him with all her strength and sobbed against his strong shoulder. His hands traced soothing circles on her back until she calmed enough to pull back and look at him. "It's really over, isn't it?"

Scott smoothed strands of auburn and white away from Rogue's face. He gently wiped her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. He considered lying to spare her feelings, but he couldn't do that to her. She's been lied to more than she deserved already. "I think it is."

With that look of lost innocence in her eyes, Rogue reminded Scott of the scared girl she'd been when she had arrived at the school over five years ago. Tearstains streaking her face, looking to him like he had all the answers she needed, the strong woman he'd fought side by side with against countless enemies had vanished. "What are we going to do?" she asked bemusedly.

Scott leaned forward and pressed his lips to her temple tenderly. He held her close to him, the act of striving to comfort her pain actually helping diminish his own. "We'll do what we have to do. We'll go on. And each day, it will get a little easier to live with."

Rogue pulled back in Scott's arms again, locking her eyes on his. "Don't make promises you can't keep. If it's always going to feel like this, I need to know. I can't live with feeling this way... I can't..."

"You can, Rogue," Scott said vehemently, clasping her face in his palms. "We'll get through this together. That's a promise I'll never break."

Fresh tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, but her lips tilted slightly upward with the hint of a smile. "I believe you, Scott. When you say that, I believe it."

Scott gave her a small, warm smile in response. "You should believe it. I'm the dependable one, remember?"

Scott wanted to kick himself for saying that. But instead of her face falling with remembrance of the man who'd just deserted her, her eyes took on a light and she reached up a small hand to gently caress the side of his face. "I remember." Rogue dropped her hand from his face as if she suddenly realized what she was doing, but the light remained in her eyes. "Don't sell yourself short, Scott. You're much more than dependable." Her voice became intense and soft. "She's a fool to give you up."

Scott reached out and gently ran the backs of his knuckles down Rogue's cheek. "There were two fools on that motorcycle, Rogue."

Something shifted inside her at that moment. She trapped Scott's hand with her own and whispered, "My name's Marie, Scott. Call me Marie."

Scott swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. "Marie."

---

Two months after Logan and Jean left the mansion, Rogue was in Scott's bedroom folding laundry. When the door opened, a welcoming smile crossed her lips. "I wasn't expecting you back so soon."

Scott walked up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. He bent down to nuzzle her neck and Rogue leaned back into his embrace, sighing happily. He placed a quick kiss on her ear and said, "Traffic was surprisingly light, and I sped."

Rogue laughed brightly, dropping the towel she'd been folding back into the laundry basket and spinning around in his arms. She locked her hands behind Scott's neck and placed a quick kiss on his lips. "You were speeding?" she teased. "Whatever happened to my ever cautious fearless leader?"

Scott ran his hands slowly down her back, then wrapped them around her hips to pull her tightly against him. "Well, there was this promise a certain minx made before I left for the airport. Something about a shower and a massage."

Rogue grinned and raised a brow at him. "Really? Who's been making you promises like that? If it's Jubes, I'll have to star whispering sweet nothings into Remy's ear."

Scott scowled at her. "Don't even think about it. That Cajun's been sniffing around you ever since he got here. He doesn't need any encouragement."

Rogue ran her hands up into Scott's hair. "Now, now. No need to get testy." She leaned forward and placed her lips against his ear. "You know that all my sweet nothings are reserved for you," she whispered seductively.

A moment later Rogue found herself flat on her back. Scott loomed over her on his elbows, his pelvis pressed deliciously against hers. He bent his knees and pushed her further back on the bed with his hips, the pressure against her groin making Rogue moan slightly. Scott smiled with satisfaction and nipped at her lips. Rogue wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed down on the backs of his thighs with her calf muscles.

Scott was the one who groaned this time. He swept one hand to the side, knocking the laundry basket onto the floor. As he began kissing her neck and unbuttoning her blouse, Rogue laughed. "That was clean laundry you just dumped on the floor, Mr. Meticulous."

"It was in my way. I'll clean it up later," Scott muttered between kisses along her collarbone.

Rogue licked her lips and ran a hand up the back of Scott's head, directing his lips toward her left breast. It was getting more difficult to concentrate every second his lips were on her skin. What was it she was going to ask him again? Oh, right... "So did the Professor head off to D.C. as planned?"

Scott had her bra undone and had pulled the lace trimmed satin away from her flesh. His tongue danced across the crest of her nipple before he answered, "Um-hum. Plane took off right on schedule. He'll be back in a few days, once the hearings conclude."

Scott's hands were pulling down the waistband of her skirt. Rogue lifted her hips off the bed so he could pull it free from her legs. His own knit shirt had been discarded while she was distracted, and now he was working on removing his slacks. Rogue raised up and moved his hands away so she could do the job for him. She looked at him through her lashes. "So, you want that shower now?"

Scott kicked the slacks away and returned to the bed. It gave Rogue a heady thrill that a man who was usually so careful with the things he owned abandoned caution when it came to her. His hands came up to trap her face and his tongue invaded her mouth, sending shivers through her nerve endings. When Rogue was well and truly breathless, Scott leaned back and grinned. "The shower comes later. I want to get dirty first."

---

Jubilee was shaken from sleep by a loud noise. Remy shot up in bed beside her. "What de blazes was dat?" he mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

Jubilee jumped up and pulled on the jeans and shirt she'd discarded when they had gone to bed. "You got me, Toots. But it don't sound like a party."

Remy also dressed rapidly. He pulled on his long leather duster and retrieved a deck of playing cards from the bedside table. "Remy believe you, chere. If a party goin' on, you always there, no?"

The door to the room opened to reveal an agitated Storm. "Good. You're ready. The school is under attack."

"Who is it?" Jubilee asked frantically. "How did they find us?"

"I do not know," Storm replied stoically. "There was an explosion at the front gates. Cyclops, Rogue, and Bobby have gone to hold them off. Gambit, you need to help them while Jubilee, Kitty, and I gather the children."

"Gambit on the way, mon ami."

"Remy, be careful!" Jubilee called out as her lover raced for the steps.

"Careful is no fun, chere. Gambit intend to be a giant pain for whoever busting in the gates."

Jubilee tried not to worry about Remy's impulsiveness as she helped steer the younger children out the back of the house. There was a truck waiting at the end of the service drive. Jubilee stopped short and said, "Storm? What's this truck doing here?"

Jubilee had just enough time to register the unnatural yellow gleam in Storm's eyes before she was struck hard and everything went black.

---

Logan stared out the window of the New York City hotel room. He took a puff off his cigar and released the cloud of smoke to drift about his head and shoulders. His head turned at the sound of a key in the door lock.

Jean walked in with a bag in her hand and a newspaper under her arm. "I got breakfast," she said, placing the bag on a table. She wrinkled her nose at Logan's cigar. "How you can smoke those things is beyond me."

This was an old conversation. Logan was too tired to bother engaging, so he merely raised a sardonic brow and took another puff off the cigar.

Jean chuckled at him and began removing items from the bag. As she crumpled up the now empty paper bag, the phone rang. Jean's brow furrowed slightly. "Were you expecting a call?"

Logan shook his head. "No one knows I'm here 'cept you, Red."

Jean picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"There's a news report I think you'll be interested in seeing on the television. Tune it to channel four."

"Who is this?" Jean asked before realizing that she was speaking to a dial tone. She hung up the phone and immediately crossed to the television.

"... attack came in the predawn hours. No one has claimed responsibility thus far, and an estimated forty students have disappeared from the grounds. There are unsubstantiated reports of fatalities, but the police are withholding all information until identifications of the missing and dead can be made. Professor Charles Xavier, founder of the school, was in Washington D.C. at the time of the incident and could not be reached for comment. We will bring you further details on this tragic event as they become available."

Jean snapped the television off. Both occupants of the room stood in stunned silence for a moment. Logan recovered first, grabbing his coat and Jean's. "Let's go."

---

The hours it took them to reach the school seemed like years. When they arrived, they almost wished they hadn't come. The ground was scorched and torn. It seemed that nothing had escaped the fury of the battle that had been waged there less than twelve hours earlier. There was yellow police tape surrounding the blasted front gates. They had only been permitted to enter once the Professor identified them as residents.

They silently followed the Professor back to the house. The three of them entered the library. Finally, Jean broke the silence. "Professor, what happened?"

The Professor looked much older than Jean remembered, certainly more than two month's time accounted for. What had happened here had aged him. "From what I can gather, the Brotherhood has increased their ranks dramatically. They waged the attack while I was gone. The children are all missing, I assume taken under Erik's wing for instruction."

Logan tried not to think about why the Professor was looking at them so sadly. "You're sure it was the brotherhood."

"Yes. Even without the evidence from the security cameras, I would know Erik's manipulations anywhere."

Jean finally gathered up her courage enough to ask, "Are they all... gone?"

The Professor's mournful gaze met hers. "Along with the children, Jubilee, Kitty, and Bobby were captured. There was one survivor amongst the others."

Logan's jaw clenched tightly. He didn't want to believe any of them were gone, but it had to be Marie who had survived or he would go insane. "Who?"

The Professor opened his mouth to answer, then closed it when a figure appeared in the open doorway. Logan and Jean both noticed the inclination of the Professor's head and slowly turned toward the door.

Remy entered the room, leaning heavily on a cane for support. The back of his head was swathed in bandages. He slowly made his way to a chair and collapsed into it, obviously exhausted.

Logan closed his eyes against the pain that threatened to drown him. Remy being alive meant Marie was gone. He could have no second chance now. He'd thought all along that he could come back whenever he wanted, demand answers as to why she'd betrayed him and find a way to make things right between them. Logan collapsed into a chair near the Cajun. Logan pushed away the grief and pain, keeping the frozen wall around his heart. It would crack under the pressure eventually, but for now, he needed answers. "How did it happen?"

"An explosion at de gates woke us. Storm... who we thought was Storm, send me to help Rogue, Ice and Cyke. My chere go with the traitor to gather the children. By the time Remy get to them, Bobby been taken and Scott was down. Rogue, she wearin' Cyke's visor and blatstin' away. That the last Remy see. Sometin hit me in de head and everytin go dark. They must'a thought Gambit was a goner 'cause they left me be. I wake up and call de Professor."

Tears were streaming down Jean's face as she stared out into nothing. Logan shot out of the chair and paced. He needed more answers. He stalked out of the library and headed for the room that housed the security cameras.

[Logan, are you certain you want to do this? Seeing what happened won't change anything.]

[Shut up and get out of my head, Chuck.]

Logan burst into the security room and went directly to the monitor that showed the front gates. He typed some commands on the keyboard to cue up the digital recording. The monitor blinked the loading message on the screen. Logan sensed Jean approaching from behind him. "You don't need to be here for this," he said in a gruff tone.

"Yes, I do," Jean replied stoically.

Logan didn't look at her. He just stared at the monitor that finally came on and flashed with images out of a nightmare...

---

Ten hours earlier...

Sabretooth was hurling anything he could get his claws on at Cyclops. Scott was fending off the objects with blasts from his visor and taking offensive shots when he could. Bobby was dealing with Toad, coating surfaces the reptile tried to stick to with sheets of ice. Rogue was in hand to hand combat with a mutant she didn't recognize. Whoever he was, he was foolish to let her get close enough to lay bare skin against his. After a few seconds, it became clear that Magneto had prepared this minion to deal with Rogue's powers. He was covered head to foot in some type of armor, including a visored helmet.

The armored mutant pushed Rogue to the side and she tumbled to the ground, hitting her head hard. With her temporarily out of commission, he turned with his arms extended straight out and his hands fisted. Shock waves emanated from his fists and shook the ground underneath Scott's feet. Scott lost his balance and went down. Sabretooth pounced and swung his massive claws into Scott's midsection.

While her opponent was distracted by his collateral attack on Scott, Rogue had regained her footing. She came up behind her foe just after he released the bolt that shook the ground. She quickly pulled off his helmet and laid her hand against his cheek. The draw started and her opponent gasped in pain. He sank to the ground in front of her, unconscious. {Avalanche... His name is Avalanche}. That was when Rogue looked up and saw Sabretooth gutting Scott.

An agonized howl erupted from her, and she turned the full force of the temporarily acquired powers against Sabretooth. The force wave hit him, knocking him away from Scott and throwing him against a tree across the courtyard.

Rogue raced toward Cyclops, tears streaming down her cheeks. As she ran, she cried out, "Bobby! Scott's down! Protection!"

Bobby understood the command immediately. Rogue skidded to a stop next to Scott's side, and Bobby surrounded them with a thick wall of ice. He turned back to where Toad had been not five seconds before. The reptilian mutant had vanished. Bobby turned in a slow circle, hands extended in preparation to attack. Suddenly, a green pock-marked face appeared upside-down in front of his. "Boo!" Toad hissed quickly, then spat venom directly in Bobby's face.

Rogue was putting pressure on Scott's wound. His breathing was spasmodic and shallow. Tears fell from Rogue's eyes and splashed against his black uniform. "You're going to make it," she muttered shakily. "We'll get you some help, just don't give up."

Scott's answer wheezed out of him. "Too late... Leave me... Go help Bobby..."

Rogue shook her head vehemently. "No! I won't leave you! You're going to be fine, Scott."

Tears slipped past the edges of Scott's visor. "No... Marie... I'm dying..."

Rogue could feel Scott's life blood seeping past her fingers through the uniform. "Please, Scott... You can't leave me too! I need you too much..."

Scott raised a weak, shaking hand and caressed her cheek. "I'm sorry," his voice croaked out weakly. "I love you, Marie."

Rogue felt her heart breaking inside her for the second time in as many months. They'd never said the words before, but they had been true just the same. "I love you, Scott."

"Kiss me goodbye."

Rogue knew what Scott was asking her to do and why. She didn't want to do it, but she couldn't deny him anything. Her hand reached out to caress his face, and she placed a tender kiss on his forehead. Her tears dropped from her cheeks as her hands reached out to close around the edges of his visor. "Close your eyes."

Scott gave an almost imperceptible nod. Rogue removed the visor. Scott's eyelashes lay against his cheeks. Rogue put the visor over her own eyes, leaned down, and kissed him.

At first, she just allowed the kiss to be a farewell. Then Rogue let her mutation surface. She drew in the remainders of Scott's energy. His feelings and memories flooded through her and she shook with the intensity of it.

After a time that was too short and too long all at once, Rogue felt the connection close. Her eyes burned with her tears and with Scott's newly absorbed power. "I love you, Scott. Goodbye."

Something shattered the ice wall surrounding the pair. Rogue turned her eyes to see a recovered Avalanche approaching. "I'm not done with you, girlie," he snarled.

Rogue stood and adjusted Scott's visor the way his voice in her head instructed her to do. "Well, I'm done with you." A red beam shot from the visor and threw Avalanche back into the wall surrounding the mansion.

Gambit was racing toward the battle ground, a fist full of playing cards charged with kinetic energy and at the ready. He saw Scott lying unnaturally still on the ground and Rogue blasting a guy into a wall. Sabretooth was laying next to a tree shaking his head, apparently recovering from a blow. Gambit headed in his direction, determined to make sure that the beast would be out of commission permanently.

Gambit passed under a tree, and Toad dropped from a high branch to land on top of him. The back of Remy's head struck a rock as he went down and his knee twisted viciously under him. Toad cocked his head and looked at his handywork. "Bum, bum, bum... another one bites the dust," he sing-songed with malicious cheer. He looked over at Sabretooth. The girl with the streaked hair was shooting blasts at him through a visor. Sabretooth was dodging the blasts and looking for a chance to take her out. Toad sighed. "Do I bloody well have to do all the work around here?"

Toad was about to head off when a hand fell of his shoulder. He turned to find Mystique looking back at him. "While I know how much you enjoy your 'bloody work', Toad, this one is mine. I have something special in mind for her."

Toad watched as Mystique's blue visage morphed into another one. He shrugged. "Fair enough, love. Just don't be all day about it. We don't have time for fun and games. The boss is expecting his special delivery, don't ya know."

Mystique nodded and headed off across the lawn. Just because it had to be quick, that didn't mean she couldn't have a little fun.

Rogue released another burst of energy at Sabretooth. He dodged it and heaved a large rock at her. She blasted it just after it left his hands. The rubble rained down on his head, burying him and temporarily putting him out of commission. Rogue realized that Toad was nowhere to be seen. She was about to look for him when a voice called out to her. "What the blue blazes is going on here?"

Rogue turned, her chest heaving. {It can't be...}

She found herself facing Logan. He was striding toward her, claws unsheathed. "This is one hell of a welcoming party, kid."

Rogue's breath came heavy as Logan got closer. "Logan... What are you doing here?"

He stopped in front of her. "I came to deliver a message."

Rogue stared into his face. The fury of the battle and its sudden cessation had disarmed her. Her mind was in chaos before - Logan's sudden reappearance increased her disorientation a thousand fold. Otherwise, she might have realized what was wrong in time. "A message?"

Logan nodded. A sudden pain in Rogue's abdomen caused her to look down. His claws were embedded deeply into her flesh. Before Rogue could react in any way, the claws were withdrawn and he stepped away, leaving her to drop on the ground in a heap. Rogue pressed her hand against the wound and looked up into the cruelly smiling face.

"The message is, love hurts like a bitch. But you knew that already, didn't you?" A low rumbling laughter started, then transformed into a higher pitched, malicious tone as Mystique reassumed her own shape. As the shape-shifter walked away, she called out, "It seems so fittingly tragic that you and your lover both die of abdominal wounds. Erik will love the irony."

Rogue watched the Brotherhood pull out as victors, driving away with their prisoners in the large truck. Rogue gathered what remained of her strength and dragged herself over to where Scott's body lay. She collapsed next to him, laying her head on his chest. She touched his face with her hand. "You're still warm..." she muttered weakly.

Rogue could feel the lack of burning in her eyes and removed Scott's visor. She dropped it and curled up against his side. Logan's voice inside her head howled in animalistic fury at her, commanding her not to die. Whether it was Mystique's ruse that had reawakened Logan's presence or just the fact that her life was bleeding out of her, Rogue didn't know.

She closed her eyes. In the darkness, she saw Logan demanding that she live. Then she turned, and there was Scott. He made no demands. He just smiled softly and held out a hand toward her.

"I'm coming, Scott... It won't be long now... We'll be together..."

Rogue reached for Scott in the darkness. Finally, he clasped her hand and pulled her to him in an embrace.

As her breathing stopped, Rogue smiled peacefully. It was so nice not to die alone...

---

Logan turned off the monitor. Jean was huddled against the wall, sobbing into her hands. Logan knew she needed to be comforted. He walked over and she looked up at him with misery etched in every line of her face. He turned away and walked out the door.

He just couldn't bring himself to care.

---

The funeral was held two days later. Three caskets were lowered into the ground. The small group around the burial site presented a picture of abject desolation. Jean stared fixedly at Ororo's tombstone. She at least had been given the mercy of dying quickly and painlessly. She had been found in her bed with her neck broken, her eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

The Professor was quietly calm. The grief for those he'd lost burned in the depths of his eyes, as did the determination to retrieve those he could still save. Remy stood beside him. He, on the other hand, was agitated. He couldn't let himself grieve until after the rescue. He was completely focused on the present and on saving Jubilee. There would be plenty of time to mourn his fallen friends later.

The Professor had called in a few friends and former students to assist them in the rescue plan. Hank McCoy stood by the gravesite, along with Kurt Wagner and Piotr Rasputin. They were awaiting a few more arrivals before launching an attack on Magneto's lair. In the mean time, these men were also mourning the friends they'd fought next to many times over the years.

One person was conspicuous by his absence at the graveside ceremony. Logan had staunchly refused to go. Until they rescued the children, he couldn't allow himself to feel anything, let alone grieve. He knew that when he finally let himself feel something, the pain would be so overwhelming that he wouldn't be able to breathe.

So Logan was alone in the mansion while the others listened to the minister giving final rites. The bell on the front door rang. Logan swore under his breath, "Fucking condolence callers..."

Logan yanked the door open. The messenger outside stared at his menacing expression with wide eyes. "Umm... I have a package and a letter to deliver?"

Logan took the box and the note impatiently. He scrawled his name on the clipboard the shaking messenger handed him, then slammed the door in the kid's face.

Logan stalked into the library, tossing the package and the note on the Professor's desk. It was only then he noticed that while the letter was addressed to Professor Charles Xavier, the package was addressed to him and Jean.

Logan picked up the box and ripped it open. Inside was a videotape with a note reading "Watch Me" taped to the outside of it. Logan's expression darkened as he headed for the VCR and popped the tape into the machine. He turned on the television and hit the play button.

Mystique appeared on the screen. She was curled around a leather chair and had a malicious grin on her face. "Hello there, Ms. Grey, Wolverine. I have a little surprise for you two. I thought you deserved some answers about what led you to where you are today, stuck with each other and grieving the two people you truly loved. So, who am I to leave you with so many unanswered questions?

"I'll start back at the beginning. That day in the gymnasium when your worlds exploded, to be precise. I thought you might like to see this little tape I liberated from the security cameras while I was there. I think you'll find it quite enlightening..."

Mystique's face disappeared from the screen, cutting to a shot of Jean and Scott in the observation room of the gym. Jean was whispering to Scott seductively as she pulled out a black scarf. Realization began to dawn on Logan. The blood drained from his face and his hands fisted. He already knew what he was going to see, but he couldn't look away.

Scott was blindfolded. He was kissing her, completely unaware that she had shifted from Jean to a blue shade, then into Marie. Logan watched as first Jean entered the room and fled in shock. Then he saw himself standing in the doorway briefly before leaving.

Mystique's voice came over top of the security camera footage. "I know what you must be thinking now, Wolverine. Why didn't you charge in there to stop them? You would have known my scent, would have realized I wasn't your precious Rogue. But would you have known in time? Would you have killed Scott Summers in a rage before you realized my deceit? I know these questions plague you, because I've thought about them myself over the past weeks. I truly am curious to know why you didn't come in as I expected. Was it because you loved her too much, or not enough? Were you merely looking for a reason to do what you'd wanted to all along? Perhaps one day we can sit down and have a chat about it."

On the video, the pair began straightening their clothing. The earlier transformation reversed, leaving an unknowing Scott looking at "Jean" when he removed his blindfold. "You really did surprise me that day, Wolverine," Mystique mocked cruelly over the footage. "It turned out much better than I could have ever hoped. We had planned on attacking later that day while the misunderstanding would make the X-Men confused and vulnerable. But you and Ms. Grey fleeing on that motorcycle made things so much easier on us. With the man who could sniff me out not being around and one of the telepaths gone, it was a simple matter to wait for Xavier to leave on important business. We had plenty of time to prepare our attack plan down to perfection. So, I offer you both the thanks and gratitude of The Brotherhood for being so easily mislead."

Logan's claws unsheathed at her taunting. The pain in his knuckles was nothing compared to the burning agony in his chest where his heart should have been. White-hot fury laced through his veins as Mystique's voice continued over a new loop of surveillance footage. "You should be happy for them, you know. After the two of you got out of their lives, they actually managed to be happy for a while."

This time, the camera footage showed the real Marie with Summers. He was comforting her in the driveway after the motorcycle had sped off. Logan didn't think he could possibly feel any more pain...

Then he heard her asking Scott to call her Marie.

Little cut shots followed that scene outside the mansion.

Scott and Marie walking in a hallway: Scott reaching out to squeeze her hand; Marie smiling up at him in thanks and something more.

Scott and Marie out in the garden: Marie picking flowers; Scott smoothing a strand of hair away from her face; Marie looking up at him intensely; Scott leaning down tentatively for what was obviously a first kiss; Marie angling her head upwards to encourage him.

Scott and Marie walking in a hallway again: Scott stopping next to his door and saying goodnight; Marie trapping his hand against the doorknob and saying the night didn't have to end yet; Scott caressing her face gently and asking if she was sure; Marie saying that she'd never been more sure of anything.

The scene cuts faded back to Mystique again. "So now you know everything. You shouldn't feel too badly for them. After all, they died in each other's arms. How sappily poetic is that? Just like Romeo and Juliet. Erik thinks it's more along the lines of another Shakespearean tragedy. He said I made a perfect Iago. I'm sure Ms. Grey knows the reference, but I'll elucidate for you, Wolverine. Check out 'Othello' and you'll understand. Take comfort in the fact that this Desdemona got to have a little fun before she was snuffed."

Mystique smiled maliciously. "Well, I hope I've answered all of your questions. Have fun living with yourselves."

The screen went blank as the recording ended. Logan roared as he ejected the tape and shredded it to pieces with his claws. He hurled the pieces against the wall and screamed out his fury to the empty room. His righteous indignation had been a ruse. With that ripped away from him, he was left bleeding and raw. His wrath still unabated, Logan overturned furniture and slammed his fist into the wall. He beat the wall over and over again until emotional exhaustion overtook him. He sank down on the floor next to the wall and buried his head in his hands.

For the first time in his memory, Logan wept.

---

When they arrived back at the mansion, Hank and Kitty herded the children off to their beds. This mission had succeeded with no major casualties, not on their side anyway. The Wolverine had taken out several of the Brotherhood, reserving his most vicious attack for Mystique. He'd made good and sure that the blue bitch was dead this time, separating her head from her body with a gleam of satisfied pleasure in his eyes. A blood-curdling battle cry had erupted from him as he'd cleaved her neck in two.

Remy was fussing incessantly over Jubilee. She waved him off, but the attention was clearly welcome. He insisted that she go directly to bed and that he was going to personally stand guard over her all night. She said he was behaving like a mother hen and that her head didn't hurt any more than his did. Underneath their bickering was a sadness. Like everyone else in the mansion, they were aware of the cost that had come from the team's lack of focus the other night. Such a thing would never happen again. The lives lost would be a constant reminder of what was at stake if it did.

Bobby had already recovered from Toad's venom when the rescue occurred. He had been able to assist their get away by laying a sheet of ice on the ground behind them to stall the pursuit. All the children had looked at him like he was their personal hero. Bobby didn't feel heroic. He felt like he was to blame for Rogue's death. He'd made a mistake that had allowed him to be captured, leaving Rogue without backup. One of those tombstones on the lawn should have been his.

The Professor pulled Jean aside and led her into his library. "Are you planning to stay? We need you here."

It was on the tip of Jean's tongue to refuse. She wasn't sure she'd be able to stay sane surrounded by the memories in this place. But another part of her acknowledged that, though she'd forgotten it for awhile, this place was her home. These people, her family. "I'll be staying Professor."

"And Logan?"

Jean's eyes turned over her shoulder. She looked through the open library doors at the figure climbing the stairs, his back rigid with tension. She quickly turned back to look into Charles Xavier's penetrating gaze. "I don't know, Professor. I think this may be too much for him. He'll probably run."

He studied her expression carefully. "But you will be staying regardless."

He hadn't posed it as a question, but Jean clarified anyway. "I'm tired of running."

The Professor took her hand gently in his and quietly quoted, "Though wise men at their end know dark is right, because their words had forked no lightning, they do not go gentle into that good night."

A slight smile graced Jean's lips as a tear slipped down her cheek. "Who said that?"

"It's from a poem by Dylan Thomas."

"It's beautiful. It... it reminds me of Scott."

The Professor nodded. "It reminds me of him as well." The Professor rolled his wheelchair over to his desk and picked up a book that was laying open on it. "I've been reading it all day. Here, read the rest. Perhaps it will comfort you as it does me."

Jean took the book and closed it around her finger, marking the page. "Thank you, Professor. I... I should probably go check on Logan."

The Professor nodded and Jean went upstairs to search for Logan. She found him standing in his old room, clutching that photograph of him with Rogue. Finding it hard to believe that she suddenly felt so awkward with him, Jean tapped lightly on the door. "Logan... Are you all right?"

"No," he replied, not taking his eyes off the photograph.

Jean bit at her lip. She didn't know how to reach him. She wasn't even sure that it was possible. "Do you want me to go?"

Logan started to say yes, but then he recalled the fact that she didn't know the truth yet. She had as much right to know as he did. A voice inside him snarled that he was simply looking for someone to wallow in his guilt-ridden misery with him. "Jean... Come in and shut the door. There's something you need to know."

She refused to believe him at first. When she finally did realize that Logan would never be so cruel as to make up such an outrageous story, her veneer of anger cracked. She seemed to fall apart right in front of him. She cried and screamed at the unfairness, the deceit. The blamed and she railed and she sobbed. Eventually, she wore herself out and collapsed on the bed.

Logan thought that he should console her. He should go over there and wrap his arms around her; tell her that he knew how she felt and that she wasn't alone. He couldn't do it. The gap between them was too wide, and the chasm grew with every second. Logan knew he would never be able to bring himself to touch her again. Even if he could, he didn't think Jean would want him to.

And he was right.

Jean pushed herself off the bed and stumbled wearily toward the door. "When will you be leaving?" she asked in a monotone, not bothering to look back at him.

"I'm not leaving," he replied in an equally flat voice. "I'm not running from this. Marie deserved better than she got from me in life. The least I can do is honor her memory by staying here and protecting the people she cared about."

Jean nodded and walked out the door.

Logan watched the door shut, then rubbed the heels of his hands wearily against his eyes. He walked around the side of the bed, intending to pick up the photograph again. His foot hit something as he rounded the piece of furniture and he looked down. There was a book on the floor. He vaguely remembered Jean dropping it at some point.

Logan reached down and picked up the book, intending to return it to Jean when she wasn't feeling so raw. There was a page marked and the book fell open to it. Logan's eyes caught on the words, and he sank down on the edge of the bed to read the poem. He read it several times over, the words echoing inside his skull. He ended up whispering part of the last stanza aloud to the empty room: "Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Logan dropped the book on the floor and picked up the photograph from the bedside table. The smiling images blurred as his eyes swam with tears. He let them come, let them fall to dot the surface of the glass covered picture. The battle rage was gone; the children had been rescued. There was no longer a reason to fight his pain, no distractions to block it from crashing down on him. Tears would never bring Marie back to him, but he could give her this to see from wherever she was. She could know that he grieved for her. She could know that she'd been his reason for living and his greatest regret all wrapped up in one.

"Oh God, Marie... I'm so sorry. I love you..."

---

We told ourselves it never would have happened if it hadn't been for the betrayal. We assured each other that it never would have gone so far otherwise. It seems we share nothing but bitterness and recriminations now. That and the need to constantly reassure each other that we were as victimized as they were.

We know it isn't true. Even as the words fall from our lips, we feel the lie underneath it. We were all betrayed, but Marie and Scott were doubly so. And the greatest betrayal to them didn't come from the enemy.

It came from the two people who loved them more than our own lives.

Jean and I haven't touched one another once since we came back here - Not so much as a brush on the shoulder or a friendly clasping of hands. It would be a whole new betrayal to the ones we loved, and it would be a worse one. Knowing the truth of their innocence, how can we touch now and further disgrace the feelings they had for us, we for them?

But we remain in each other's presence constantly as a reminder - As a penance.

The enemy knew our strengths and our weaknesses equally well. We'd proven time and again that they couldn't beat us in a fair fight. When we were united as a team, nothing and no one could defeat us. So they cunningly attacked our weakness.

They destroyed us from within.

And it doesn't matter that in the end I was able to mete out bloody vengeance that I called justice. It doesn't change the fact that I believed my eyes instead of my heart. That I chose to blindly follow the path of revenge instead of confronting things with my eyes open. The enemy's betrayal wasn't our undoing.

Mine was.

I know Jean feels the same way. We discuss it more often than we should. But then the words turn to lies. We lay the blame other places. We say that the blue bitch's cunning was our undoing. We couldn't possibly have realized what would happen when we roared out the gates of the school on Scott's motorcycle. How could we have known that we'd never get the chance to make things right?

So now, the deceit is self-directed. Jean and I reinforce our delusions for each other. We are partners in telling each other the words we need to hear. We avoid the truth like the plague. We constantly repeat the self-deluding words.

Maybe we think if we say it often enough, we can believe the lie.

Maybe if we can believe the lie, we can live with the consequences.

---

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.